Saturday, November 10, 2012

The Waiting Game

"Wait." "Stop and think about this." "Sleep on it." "Think it over." "Give it time."

Why do we say these phrases so often? Why do we place so much emphasis on waiting for everything? "Wait to travel until you've finished college." "Wait to have sex until you're married." "Wait until college." "Wait until high school." "Wait for permission." "Wait until you're eighteen." "Wait until you've grown up." If you know you want something, why would you wait? Why let societal rules made up by someone else dictate your happiness?

I've always had a bit of a thing for breaking "waiting rules." Maybe it started with my mother. You're supposed to wait until your kid is in kindergarten to teach them to read. She started the minute I could talk. You're supposed to wait until your kid starts school to give them "the talk." She did it as soon as I started asking questions. You're supposed to start thinking about college in high school. My mom and I started discussing colleges when I was twelve. The message in all of this was clear: Go at your pace. Do things when you feel ready, not when someone dictates you should be ready.

It didn't end when I stopped being homeschooled. I left home at sixteen to go to a boarding school in the middle of nowhere. Many of my friends in college had never lived away from home prior to coming here. You're not supposed to go abroad or go on study tours as a freshman; it's generally somewhat discouraged. I went to Italy on a study tour with mostly juniors and seniors--the only other freshman there brought her father. My mother encouraged this whole-heartedly. It was, in fact, her idea for me to go to Italy on the photo tour, and I will forever be grateful for this suggestion.

If I were to go to my parents tomorrow and say, "I want to go to Sweden to study film, here's the program that I want to do and here's the Swedish-English dictionary I'm taking with me so I'll be able to understand what the hell people are saying," I have no doubt they'd say, "Sounds like you're sure about this, let's do it."

My parents and I don't always see eye-to-eye. I have had multiple conversations with my mother about whether or not I truly want to be a filmmaker. She doesn't always see it; she sees me as more of a writer. (Apparently so do my screenwriting professors, both my current one and my teacher from Interlochen...but that's another story.) We've had multiple arguments about whether or not I have the right disposition, work ethic, sensitivity level, or skill set for the profession I've chosen. (Plenty of people I know think I'm too sensitive for this--and they're probably right, but I've never let that stop me.) We once had a days-long argument because she compared her profession to mine.

But throughout it all, she has never once said to me, "You can't be a filmmaker." She once said, "I think you're more of a writer, but if you really want to be a director there's nothing stopping you. There is no reason for you to not achieve anything you want to achieve."

My parents have bought me sound equipment, endless DVD stock and tapestock, Final Cut software, laptops, and--my favorite of all--the most beautiful, incredible camera I could have asked for. (Yes, Tibby is doing fine; yes, there will be more photography posted soon, I promise.) They paid my tuition for Interlochen and college. My dad paid all my film festival fees. They've attended all of my screenings at Interlochen. When I won an award at college--it wasn't even for filmmaking, mind you--they drove twelve hours to come and watch me accept it. When I wanted to apply for a job at Interlochen for the summer, they helped me with the application.

There was only one time they told me, "Wait." I was fourteen and wanted to go to Interlochen. My mom said, "Wait, I don't think you're ready to go yet." Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't. Maybe waiting hurt me, but I don't think it did. I think I got the same education in two years that I'd have gotten in four years. I think I benefitted greatly by a year in public high school: it taught me the true lack of respect that people have for art and deepened my passion for writing by blessing me with not one, not two, but four teachers who pushed me to grow and develop not only in writing and film, but in all areas of my life. I would not give that up.

But when I wanted to go to the summer camp, they didn't tell me to wait--they encouraged me to go. When I called my parents from a payphone at the camp half-laughing and half-crying and told them, "I have to go to school here," they didn't tell me to wait--they faxed me the forms necessary to complete my application. When I told my dad "I want to apply for higher-level film festivals," he didn't say, "Wait until you make a better film," he gave me the money I needed for fees. When I wanted to go to Italy, they didn't tell me to wait, they practically pushed me out the door and onto the plane. And when I said I found a new talent for photography, they didn't say, "Wait until you take a photography class," they gave me a camera for graduation.

My parents have never made me wait for something they--and I--knew I wanted.

My mother has long had the catchphrase of "How hard can it be?" I can't say that I go through life with this mentality--I worry about difficulty far more than she does--but there are definitely times when I tell myself, "It's not as hard as you think," and just do it. Wait two years to take film analysis and scriptwriting classes that most people take as juniors and seniors? Nope, I'm taking them now--and I continually get praise for my writing and my analyses. I constantly get teased by my teachers for taking so many film classes--but at the same time they encourage me to keep growing and learning not only in class, but also on my own.

I hate being told, "Wait until ____." No. I don't want to wait. I've waited long enough.

One of my favorite blogs is The Road is Home, not only because of the beautiful photography (though that alone was enough to make me fall utterly in love with the blog author, Nirrimi), but because she didn't wait just because it was "what was expected." She went out and did what she knew she wanted--needed--to do. She is my age and is already a successful photographer and mother of a beautiful little girl. Does she take crap for it? Undoubtedly. But she has talent, and she has strength, and I admire her so much for having the guts to go ahead and make her dreams come true without listening to people who told her "It's not right," "You can't," "You're too young."

Raised the way I was, I can't for a second believe that there is any benefit to forcing yourself to hold off on something you know you're ready to do. If you put me on a professional film set tomorrow, I don't doubt for a minute that I could hold my own. If you put a feature script in my hand, gave me a specific budget, and told me, "This is now your movie, make it as you see fit," I don't doubt that I could pull off a finished product. Would it be Oscar-worthy? In all probability it wouldn't be; it would be my first feature film and my first attempt at navigating the film-festival circuit with a full-length feature. But I could make it. I could do it. How hard could it be?

I don't give up. I'll give into wallowing now and then. I'll rant. I'll be furious. I'll be hurt. I'll take a little time to lick my wounds. But I won't give up. Plenty of people can attest to that.

And I won't wait any longer.

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