The 20th of September
I turned 21 this week. It was my first real adult birthday. Casual. Tired. Kombucha was involved.
It got me thinking about my past birthdays.
From my 11th birthday tea party. The video was made out of our obsession with Revolutionary War history.
This high-society approach was not our norm; we usually played variations of the classic make-believe game in which one must dress up as a boy so you can join the militia to fight the redcoats, and where you’ll have to outsmart Paul Revere so you don’t get sent home.
We copied something we liked, and the birthday party became a production for us; for our own fun.
18th birthday party tea. See how our interests have evolved over teenagehood? Pirates, poison, and whimsy.
It was just for fun. Freedom. Friendship.
My short film Flora is in pre-production at the “mo.” (That is slang, but as an old adult of 21 I am irrevocably out of touch with what is popular in the “vocab” of today’s youth.)
When I wrote the film in November almost one year ago, it was wrapped in a midnight blue silk ten-page handwritten letter for a friend about dreams.
A lot of learning was swirling. A new way of engaging, listening, being present, pressing into the feeling, into the moment. A lucidity of making art. A hunger to know … oh shoot. Oh my gosh darn shooting stupey cats.
Of course.
This week I've been stressed about all the tasks that have to be completed to get this short film to and through production.
You know, on Saturday I tested out the Dremel on the board that will become three grave marker props, then drew a template on brown paper in the house and laughed with my parents about what a weird task to do. To inflict on myself. These were not the first grave markers to be painstakingly designed in our house.
And on Saturday, I finally recognized my dissociation from the heart of the film. When people ask about the story, I can’t remember why it matters, just that it does because a wiser past version of me wrote it and called it strong. My brain rattles with logistics and schedule revisions; how about transportation? Budget formatting? So many emails? Equipment? Rehearsal schedules? Very specific costume pieces that must be tracked down? Props and lists that need to be revised? Each category swarms with a cacophony of tasks. It takes up a lot of my brain. And I have not been able to switch into story mode. Director mode. Lucid, emotional building-a-single-continuous-dream-with-our-team mode.
In order to get to production, all I have space for are the tasks.
And I grieved that a little, earlier this week. It was like my 10th birthday party when girls from different friend groups were all invited and instead of being a participant in the “production,” I had to spend the time going to crying little girls and moving the party along through tasks. Voluntary leadership, ugh.
As the week has gone on it has been better. Meeting with a friend about pre-production and later going on a location scout with her was so much fun; we imagine and work on tasks together. It’s a lot more fun with friends.
The epiphany I started to have way up, up, and above …
Was about story. And dream. Two meaningless words that were the reason for that handwritten letter of collected mentorship and learning.
It is a circle, maybe. I do not remember the heart of the film right now. (I probably don’t need to, at the “mo.”) There is work to be done. Yay!
At precisely the right time, the meaning will be given to me. May I then pass it around to my team well and with the intensely focused, sharpened pencil energy of the mentors I learned from as a 20-year-old.
The corset for Flora’s costume arrived and I can confirm it is the most comfortable garment to wear while handsewing.
It supports your back, the boning is so flexible you can bend anyway you like, and it feels like being wrapped in a weighted blanket or a hug. A friend tried it on the next day and as we curled up on the couch, she agreed that the corset gives you the perfect amount of back support and comforting compression. She’s tempted to buy one for college. I found myself slouching at work on Monday and wishing I’d worn the corset to work. We don’t tight lace, we are not into waist reduction stuff. I am wary of relying on corsets too much because they can do all the work for your core and leave your muscles weak from disuse. But there’s a reason we still have back braces. (My dudes who read this newsletter, don’t feel left out; men wore stays for several centuries!)
A handmade flexible cotton corset can be a wonderful comforting sensation to a chronic sloucher.
Quote: 🏹📜🌻
“There is divine beauty in learning. To learn means to accept the postulate that life did not begin at my birth. Others have been here before me, and I walk in their footsteps.”
—Elie Wiesel