So I had a revelation last night. I was reborn. I found myself. Before you start in with the “aw, maaaan, another of my favorite bloggers got all freaky religious on me. UNfollow”, don’t fret, this revelatory moment had nothing to do with the realm of God.
Last night I teamed up with a group of filmmakers, actors, and a foggy-ass NYC skyline to shoot a scene from the (as yet unwritten) film that I’ve been helping work on for several months now. I went out to the shops at Columbus Circle and bought myself a sexy, satiny party dress, taped the exposed tag to my back, and kept the receipt and was ready for a night of acting. Hold up, I don’t remember how to do this. I’m serious…as we were reading through the script before rehearsing the shots I realized that I haven’t actually ACTED in months. How is that possible? I started to get nervous and wonder why the hell I want to do this with my life, what’s the point, why do I think this is fun/interesting/important? And then we got on the roof and I remembered all of it.
The past two months have been full of planning, scheming, organizing, saying goodbye, crying, taking pictures, sleeping on couches, tucked in with friends, dragging a rolling suitcase up the subway steps, but they have left me feeling a little bit empty; a little bit unsatisfied, and now I know that I’m doing the right thing. It felt so right, so fulfilling, so unlike anything I can describe, that I know I’m not wasting my time, my life, or my energy.
With this shoot out of the way the only thing left to do is mail my boxes to California, pack the car, load up the iPod playlist, buy a dozen rolls of film, and head west…
Not YET, though, I need your help first. I need you to leave me, in the comments, three songs that should be on EVERY road trip playlist. Go.