Yes, thankful. I'm thankful that I've got work, such as it is, and thankful that I have a tattoo on my left wrist that quite simply says "patience." Were it not for this tattoo I suspect that I would have walked out of this job today. Aside from the director and the DP I am surrounded by the barely passable. The list of things left undone, half-done, and/or badly done is too long and bereft of any real comedy that I will simply leave it aside for now. To the uninitiated let me say this, I am working with a group of people who work on low budget films because they are unskilled and undisciplined and yet they wonder why they aren't being offered "bigger" jobs. I watched a man set a stand incorrectly and almost drop something mildly painful on our actor only to turn around and lash into someone else about their job performance. I am without an assistant and am doing the work of two while my DIT sits at his computer, back to the set, and plays backgammon and listens to whatever greasy pony-tail hipsters listen to these days. It is uninspiring work but at least I am being paid tomorrow when we're done.
It's weeks like this that make me truly appreciate my usual co-workers, people who, despite all outward appearances, kick ass and take names and know when to shut the fuck up. I want to quit, I want to get off this job, I want to be out in the woods sitting alone, looking for deer. I. Don't. Want. This. Shit.
Yet here I am and it's Ramadan for the first time in years. So far so good, being tested and maintaining even though all around me is mendacity and mediocrity. I do my breathing exercises and take a nap at lunch and forget for thirty lovely minutes that I am in a soundstage inhabited by a pack of braying asses.
You know, I've never eaten a Butterfinger.
Peace out, bitches!