Today I had a flashback to 2001 as I sat at my desk experiencing the long forgotten craving of a good smoke. When I was in my early and mid-20′s, I would chain smoke for about two weeks straight two to three times a year. I would get stressed or anxious about something related to work, smoke like a chimney, then freak out at the possibility of addiction and throw out any cigarettes I had. In fact, one good memory of that time was standing on the porch of my house watching the TV through the window as the New Jersey Devils won the Stanley Cup in double overtime. The butts of Marlboro lights were piled up in an alter to stress relief.
I’ve since learned more healthy ways to cope with stress. I whittle away at the mountain of work in front of me and eventually things return to normal. However this week I’m experiencing a new kind of stress that is out of my control – waiting for rejection or acceptance. Even those words make it sound so epic – as if my very existence as a human being rested on the decisions of someone I have never met.
But that is part of what is so frustrating about the experience – you spend years working on a film project, send it off to someone you’ve never met and await their judgement. You have a rough idea of when you might hear, but for the most part it’s silence. It leads to a vicious cycle of questioning and obsessive searching for any hint online – some tidbit that a festival or other applicant may give away on twitter or Facebook. When that rejection comes you have no idea of why. Was it because my film stunk? Was it screened by a grumpy intern? Or were there 5 other documentaries about wrestling? So I crave the cigarette, choose not to smoke (yes indeed Mother) and remember two truths.
1. I have chosen this field and it is part of package. Deal with it and stop complaining.
2. At the end of the day, I return to my greatest vocation – the family and the culture I create at home. Besides how could you stay anxious when this awaits your arrival from work.
