Wisconsin

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As always, I’ve let too much time pass and what was once interesting is not so anymore.

Three weeks ago (? I think?) we went to the Wisconsin Film Festival.  It was great, it really was.  I would love to go back to that festival with June.  It was a whirlwind, we were just in Madison for a weekend and we loved the films we saw (Uncle John, Bloomin Mud Shuffle, and the Found Footage Festival were all wonderful).  Then we saw our film screened during the shorts presentation and…ouch.

I mean, Christ, I’m glad I can laugh it off a little now, but there’s nothing like seeing other more professional films screened alongside your $300 (max) budgeted film to get a little humility knocked into you.  I mean, the sound, the color issues – everything we thought would be “indie but okay” was definitely NOT okay to me.  Do I admit the truth here?  Ugh, sure.  It felt really shitty.  All our sound issues (we had a bad mic – we were actually testing it for June) and color problems (we did little with color correction and we need pro help) were fuckin magnified.  To be fair, the other films had budgets (as we learned during the Q&A) of generally $1,000 to $10,000.  And we had about $200 to $300.

Still.  Ay yi yi.  It was a good lesson – never show anything you’re less than proud of.  So – if we get in anywhere else, and we will, those problems will be minimized by some (cheap) pro help.  It’s frustrating because we just did not have the money to fix it.  It cost enough just to fly there.  So sad to admit, but true.  I’ve maxed out credit cards making June.  But, hey, I should be getting a little tax return so hopefully that can smooth out our issues some.

I do think Cam was well-received though, despite its issues.  And I think people were impressed with what we did on so little (which is the point, Rebecca!)  It’s funny how you work on something for so long and you lose perspective.  I think I lost perspective on just how weird it is.  It’s really unsettling and it’s hard to know if it’s funny or just uncomfortable.  I guess that’s what I liked about it when I wrote it.  That said, I’d be happy to never see it again.  But I tend to be that way about everything I make.

Ugh, I’ll write about it another time.

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I guess I can’t seem to mask my slight depression I’m going through at the moment.  I mean, I always have it, it’s always around.  Moods.  I’ve always had heavy moods.  But I guess I’m just grieving right now.

A week ago I left my family home forever.  That sounds so dramatic, but it’s the truth.  And it feels dramatic.  My family was in that home for 24 years, since I was four years old.  Everything happened there.  My dad died there.  We grew up.  We came home.  It was a touchstone, it was security.

I think I might be in a little bit of shock.  I walked through the house in my last days there after I packed up my bedroom and I watched the ghosts run past me, vignettes played out in lights and shadows.  My dad popping around every corner (“Hey, Beccaroo”), my brother and sister and me running around as little kids, chasing the dogs, the shadow of a cat around the legs of a chair, my mom in the garden with cuts up her arms from the roses, a warm and dark dining room with candles lit for Christmas dinner and all of us at that same table year after year.  All gone to the present anyway.  Swept up in time.  Good bye.  It’s all been gone for a long time anyway.

Still.  It’s heartache.

And being out here, in this apartment by the train, well, it hurts a little more than it used to.  There’s so safe room to return to anymore.  It feels like depending even more on my dreams, which honestly feel like a lot of bullshit that I made up sometimes, more than any real kind of possibility.

And yet.  Here I am.  There’s some kind of faith (and knowing) that propels me forward.  And boxing up my room did not kill me.  It felt like it could even be a fresh start.  Like I could let go of the bad years – and there were some bad years – in that bedroom.  Dark teenage angst I’d just as soon never see again.

And I believe I am supposed to be here.  Even if California is a sacrifice and could never be a real home.   Even if I dream of prairies and mountains.  Wisconsin.  Colorado.  Here I am.  Anyway.  Making movies.  Failing and continuing.

I feel dark and light.  I guess I’ll keep going.

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