Contrary to the misleadingly metaphorical-sounding title of this post, I have no great epiphany to report, no heart-stopping news. I literally remain unscathed by a literal ton of bricks by a matter of minutes.
I was leaving for work a few minutes later than I'd planned when I heard a big crash outside my bedroom window. I figured: melting ice. But a moment later my street was full of firetrucks, and when I came down I saw (once again) police tape blocking off my street.
So what happened? A chimney protruding from the fourth floor of the building next to mine became detached, and crashed on the street (and car) below, ten feet from my door and exactly where I would have been walking. As I watched in awe, bricks were still raining down.
Never a dull moment on Montgomery Street. I called my boss and said I was running late for work, and it was a damn good thing, too.
I'm back in town after my first NYC shoot with Mark. Being blessed with relatives and friends in the city, I'd never had the luxury of staying in a hotel until now, and it was amazing. You know it's good digs when they leave Aveda products in the bathroom for you.
Here's me, helping out with test Polaroids on the shoot.
I'm sort of amazed. It's been just a few months since I decided to get serious about working in photography, and suddenly I have the kind of job I dreamed about landing. In the past week I've paid for the rented studio in New York, made inquiries about hair and make-up artists for an upcoming shoot, set up lights, gels, and backdrops, and even given suggestions during shoots that have actually been used.
And then there's my own work, too. On Sunday morning Georgia drove me to Worcester for a few hours of campaign photography for a state rep candidate. I shot in a handful of locations, arranged big and noisy groups, staged photo-ops, laughed and joked with people. And miraculously I got paid to do it.
I got home late last night on a Greyhound, which was... well, an annoying ride. Which brings me to this: I'm trying to find ways to be less annoyed by things. People, public transportation, noise, cold. Because in the end, people are jerks, trains run late, luggage gets lost, and Boston is f'ing freezing in the winter. I'm asking myself: why should I pull out my hair about it?
It's just that sometimes I can't help but let stupid things get under my skin. Like the two guys behind me on the bus last night, who talked and laughed at full volume for 4.5 hours, and who couldn't be blocked out by my iPod. Or that when I flew home from Key West they ran out of all the food products on the plane, so I couldn't even pay an overpriced $4 for a bag of chips or something. Or don't even get me started on the T. Or my landlady, who won't fix the broken radiator even though there's a 15-degree temperature difference between the two common rooms of our house, and shrugs her shoulders and says, "it not work, it not work." Yes, I know it not work. That's what I said in the first place.
Last night, as the two guys jabbered behind me, I oscillated between complete fury during which I pondered all the things I could turn around and say to them about their unjust and inconsiderate behavior, and breathing deeply and thinking, "I'll be home in a couple hours and they'll never bother me again." I find it helps to try and slip outside of myself into the third-person, which serves two purposes: one, to see my life in a pseudo-romantic-comedy-esque way, and two, to make me realize: Hey, I don't want to be Annoyed Girl. I want to be Easy-Going Girl. Nobody likes Annoyed Girl. Except Pissed-Off Guy and Irritable Lady.
Also, sometimes grinning and bearing it pays off, like when, after smiling and saying, "Oh, that's okay," when there was no food left on the plane, a friendly flight attendant snuck me two mini-bottles of red wine, which rendered me calm, happy, and (embarrassingly) drunk upon being met at the airport.
I'm going to get some coffee... but I think I'll wait a few minutes, lest a piano comes tumbling down on my head.
(Perfecting my "God, life is so annoying" expression.)