Letting Go...

I suffered extensive first world trauma at the age of 15.  I was on a three-week student exchange in Germany when I arrived a few minutes late for a charter bus trip that I was told “under no circumstances” to be late for.

That particular morning I actually was waiting on my German Host ‘sister,’ but I got a rather memorable comeuppance from my teachers who dressed me down in front of ALL the other students in the middle of bus.

I was sure my reputation was ruined forever, but I learned a valuable lesson that day – “Take ownership for your actions and their outcomes.”

(My excuse of, “It really wasn’t my fault this time,” didn’t quite cut it…)

So I’ve built my life around taking responsibility and ownership and seeing through what I start.  But now I have a new handicap.

I don’t always know when to let go.

Correction – I usually KNOW when – I just struggle with the execution...

I’ve always had a hard time uttering the word, “no,” when asked to do something I don’t want to do.  And I’ve rarely been able to say, “I’m done,” with anything more significant than a tasty dinner.

Peas are God's way of punishing mouthy children...

So two days ago, when a person I really didn’t want to deal with called me and literally demanded that I talk to him, I put him off and told him I’d call the next day.

All the next day, I wondered why I’d told him that.  I didn’t want to talk to him.  And I didn’t want to dive back into a project that I’d finally let go of after three years of investing massive amounts of time and money.

I was done. I am done.  I’m okay with that – so why couldn’t I say it to that dipsh*t when he called me?

Those of us who work in collaborative mediums like filmmaking learn to take a great deal of ownership in our work or it won’t get done.  That’s good.

But when you’re having a staring contest with your phone because you’d rather digest and sh*t out your own tongue than make one more promise to pursue a dead avenue, it’s time to get up from the table, scrape what’s left on your plate into the trash and start over new. 

Dignity AND sign language that is...

We deserve a fresh start from time to time.  Without one, we’d go absolutely insane. So this year, I hope to learn to say, “I quit,” with dignity – and screen my calls better...