When it rains it pours they say. Come the end of next week I’ll either be happily dropping hundreds of dollars on presents for fam, friends and acquaintances or working on acquiring alcohol poisoning and skirting chronic liver failure as I attempt to drink every bottle of liquor in the freezer at once (quite a few).

So last week at work I had a series of fuckups concentrated into a few days. The big one was me shooting an entire reception with fucked up white balance. Like fucked up to the point that it may not only be unfixable, but the company may actually stand to lose a shit load of money trying to compensate the customer. That alone should mean my ass, but Eric really is doing his damnedest to save me, but he can’t unfuck that footage any better than the editors can. Then, at the same time, coordinators start bitching about weeks worth of my lax mannerisms all at once. Hand in pocket while shooting (a coordinator corrected me on this once and I never did it again) and leaning on things/ sitting on the floor while shooting (they claim laziness, I claim steadiness). Concerning my shooting posture, if I wasn’t so goddamn depressed I’d be fucking pissed off about that complaint. But yeah, Take sat me down and gave me the whole son, I am disappoint chew out.

Not an hour ago I was seriously down enough to cry (I didn’t, but I couldah!) because of it. Then Eric called me and did his big brother it’s gonna be okay spiel, I had a quesadilla and listened to some Harvey Danger, and now I’m feeling just moderately depressed. It’s just that the company I fucked with is already pissed off for a bunch of fuckups prior to my joining and it’s just all coming close to breaking because of me. Ihateitihateitihateit.

I’m becoming Van. I don’t know the dude so I really try to refrain from talking shit about him. He came, he fucked up, he left, we came, we replaced him. Jay’s doing fine, but I fucked up. I haven’t gotten to the point Van did where he just.. neglected to show up some days… but he fucked up on ceremonies too and that seems to be the point these guys try to drive home. He’s the guy that everyone at chapels ask “hey, what happened to him?” And then the shooter always smiles sheepishly and say he fucked up, now he’s gone. Is that gonna happen to me? Am I gonna be that guy who fucked up and got canned? I really don’t want to. Idontidontidontidont.

Last week I was worried if I would be able to afford that fucking turbo sports car. I’ve truncated my worries to wondering if I can afford-. Can’t afford shit without a job, let alone shiny needless bullshit. But that’s too obtuse of a worry. I’m not worried about money. Well, I am, but that’s not the only value I see in this job.This job is sweet. I get to do cool things that I’m genuinely interested in, I get to learn a trade that is absolutely fascinating and best of all, I work with the greatest people I’ve ever met. Each and every single person at the office is one of the coolest people I’ve ever had the pleasure of associating with. Eric going out of his way to try and get my back is just an example. Even though Take chewed me out I totally understood why and I was bothered by the fact that I let him down more than getting chewed out. Take’s the most fair boss you can ask for, he’s astoundingly generous, and he’s a cool guy on top of that as well. I really want to keep working for him and TBS, but I’ve been trying so fucking hard this whole time to turn out good work.

The ice I skate is so un-fucking-believably thin right now, so I’ve seriously gotta put ALL of my life into it right now. Watch tapes, read shooting guides, research shit, etc. If I don’t, I’ll be kicking my ass later.

In the immortal words of one Xzibit:

Keep on acting like it ain’t gon happen till it happen cuz when it happen you gon wish it neva did… MUTHAFUCKA!

This entry was posted on Monday, November 30th, 2009 at 8:07 pm and is filed under Another Blog, Whining, Work. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.