a nascent filmmaker meditates on stuff

Being a filmmaker, and an artist in general, is extremely frustrating in this hyper-capitalistic and hyper-consumerist society. With mental illness in the mix, it makes for an awesome smoothie, much like the one almost formed by the Fratelli Brothers when they threatened Chunk into a sobbing confessional venting session. Which reminds me, I need to get in a good scream and cry session soon. The hustle culture paired with the mind-numbing nature of the social media content onslaught is making me nauseous. Oh and don't even get me started on AI (another post on that later). I felt constantly inadequate, ugly, incompetent, incapable (even though I am a Master of Fine Arts in Documentary Film!), and behind---always falling behind. It has taken six years of therapy and psychiatric medication to repair my self-esteem and mood stabilization and sanity. Recently I deleted my Instagram and Facebook, LinkedIn is next on the chopping block. Why would one do that? Isn't that madness and career suicide? Perhaps, but at this point I do not care. I will commit to focusing on my art---writing, painting, doodling, singing, performing---instead of getting a "real" job. Working a retail or restaurant job is good enough for me. Sure, having a salaried job would be awesome, but when you have a disability and a heavy tendency to defy authority, especially micromanagers, there's not a good place for me in corporate or even non-profit.

Filmmaking brings me much joy and gratification, but my school program certainly burned me out and sent me into a depressive episode, followed my a series of mixed episodes, manic, depressive, I don't know who I am anymore without this disorder, I try to remember the peace of not having to remember to take medications pre-pandemic. Post-pandemic, everything fell apart violently, my efforts to keep myself together failed, the vase shattered, the suicidal thoughts intruded incessantly; while I was eventually able to put the vase back together, the cracks are there, the tiny slivers-shards of ceramic are lost forever and the gaps must be filled with some sort of glue, but it was a long time coming, there were signs in high school that I wasn't doing well, I hid it well or I thought I did, in college I wanted to step into the road to be run over. My friend talked me down from attempting. Anyway, enough of that depression expression mess.

Don't get me wrong, I am grateful to be alive in an era of indoor plumbing, libraries, and access to the frozen section; however, I can't help but fear for the future of women's bodily autonomy, erosion of the progress made in the Civil Rights Movement, and the ultra-rich kvetching about the possibility of having to pay more in taxes. The Big Beautiful Blue Wave washed up on our shores yesterday, bringing hope to many a center-ish democrat, democratic socialist, liberal/leftist, and possibly a communist or two. What is concerning to me is that the Democratic Party will relax and focus on the wrong mess to clean up. I understand that Trump deserves to be impeached, thrown out of office, and thrown in jail, but that boy pig isn't going to disappear until we ignore him, consider him irrelevant, and let him rot til he enters his appropriate circle of hell. Dems need to remember that the swing voters are expecting lower gas & grocery prices, ending the war, and less BS. Democrats need to take this as a sign to light a fire under their bottoms and get moving.

One more thing, or multiple things, when you are a filmmaker often people don't realize that we can't just send our films off to PBS or streaming services, we have to make sure we secure the rights to all the assets, music, archival, etc, there's consent forms from all the participants, ethical considerations, And on top of all that we must make sure our art is true to our voice/vision/style and sends the message that we want to send. We have to take care of the people and the communities we film, and portray them truthfully, as tenderly and grounded and gritty as possible. Securing funding is a whole other thing eeeesh. This will end on a high note my friends!

There is always a reason to keep going, keep creating, keep looking for love and loving friends, and helping them out when they need it. I spent about 5 hours in the emergency room with my friend the other day and honestly it was so fun, and it reminded me that we've got to be there for each other. Even though I wasn't the one seeing the doctor, I felt healed and rejuvenated by helping her.

Sure, it was a time commitment and by the end I got dehydrated, but it was great getting to talk with her about everything under the sun and play a Name 5 Things game. I got to see a slice of humanity that needed to have their illnesses, injuries and other concerns looked after. It reminded my friend of an airport and I said, "Dang you are right." I couldn't help but think about my two stays at psych wards. When admitted, a patient must follow orders and a routine in order to heal faster (be discharged faster). In my first stay in Tulsa OK, I was in for 8 days, I left as a shell of myself uninterested in living, ashamed of my behavoir in my manic episode, and my only friend was my sister; to this day I feel guilty that she had to pry me from my despair and convince me to keep going. Fast forward one year, I was in Hampton VA. Over the course of two weeks, I went from fully psychotic, (delusions and extreme paranoia and rage) to accepting of my meds and of my bipolar I diagnosis. I was not back to normal, I still had to come down from an extreme mania, however I give credit to the nurses, psych techs, and therapists that helped me realize that I was going to heal, that I needed to heal for my own sake, not for anyone else's. So, take care of those you love, let them take care of you, ask for help, and love yourself, you more than deserve it. You are divine. With love and luck, Christine.