I'm back on the East Coast for the rest of the week and then I'm jetting back to the Beehive State to move into my new place before school starts. I've been running on empty for a while, so it's been beautiful to come home and have my biggest responsibility be not forgetting to take advantage of the pool in the backyard.

I've been shooting in a 16x9 ratio over on my instagram lately because I'm a cinematographer at heart and I needed something a little more cinematic than a square, just for now.

This is a photograph of lady liberty as seen from the Staten Island Ferry. Riding from Manhattan to Staten Island as the sun set was breathtaking.

The fact that The Man From U.N.C.L.E. isn't doing well at the box office is breaking my little heart because I think it is witty and charming and stylish and that the soundtrack is fabulous. Promise me you'll go see it.

Bye

One of many essays about film school: read the rest here

Let's talk about second acts. Seems to be an appropriate topic for the second essay.

This past January I was sitting in a class and one of my professors was giving a group of students feedback on an edit of a 30 second commercial they were trying to finish. He wanted them to spend more time on the rising action of the story arc.

"Most meaningful is the balance before we know what's going to happen."
—Jeff Parkin, on second acts

I loved that thought so much—its applications are so multiple. Yes, in this context it was describing the editing choices of a 30 second TV spot, but second acts are a part of life. We're going to have a lot of second acts in our lives, because we sure do spend most of our time not knowing the answers to our questions, not being able to quell our fears, and dwelling amidst our doubts. If you look at the big picture, our entire time here on Earth is one giant second act. My freshman year I remember talking with a friend about some sort of General Conference talk regarding God's approach to giving answers—He gives answers, delays answers, and sometimes withholds answers from us when we're asking for them. I don't really remember our conversation but I do remember laughing/crying/lying on the floor in a moment of comical but valid self pity that "God seems pretty obsessed with withholding answers from me lately."

It's true. God does withhold answers from us. Occasionally. Occasionally it may feel more often than "occasionally". And sometimes it gets easier and sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes you still don't know and sometimes you have to accept you're not going to find out until the next life. But I loved that idea about second acts.

Sometimes remembering that 'not knowing' is 'meaningful' is helpful, and sometimes if someone told me that I would want to throw a brick at them—It's not like this perspective makes all your worries disappear in a split second. They're still there. You're just looking at them a little differently. A little less aggressively. A little more lightheartedly. Maybe an endearing eye roll here or there. Because in the end, those annoying little [big] questions are adding more meaning to your life.

If there's something that I try to remember regularly, it's that the second act is where the magic happens.

The other day I was making a little list of all the big picture things that the last six months of being in film school has taught me and it ended up being not such a little list. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I'm obsessed with the film program, maybe it has to do with the fact that I truly believe that everything is a metaphor, maybe it's because I'm really big on documenting things (or I'm trying be better about it, anyway). Maybe it's a combination of all those things.

I think that perfectionism is a concept I'm trying to wrap my head around. Well, maybe not perfectionism, but imperfectionism. I'm not a perfectionist, but I set high high standards for myself. Some of which are probably not the most realistic expectations from someone suffering from imperfectionism. Which would be all of us. Because imperfectionism is part of being human. I'm trying to remember that and be kinder to myself. Burning out is no fun.

A final thought. Lately I have been getting even more frustrated at the way I see humanity treating each other. I truly believe that my job here on earth isn't to judge people, it's to love them. I'm working on it—I may not have an issue with loving some of the demographics that are often societally oppressed, but I sure do have a hard time loving people who hate. It's hard to love people who are apathetic. It's hard to love people who don't care. It's hard to love people who hate. I think that hate can be louder—not more powerful than love, but louder. Hate can be screamed but love is best communicated over a lifetime. The best way to teach love is through a life well lived. And sometimes that can be quieter. It can take longer. But we can live our lives well. We have the choice to live our lives with love. And that's a way we can change things. We can change people. We can change everything.

I spent the last four days up in the mountains with my favorite kind of people: film people. I attended a writer's retreat for BYU's Media Arts students—although technically referred to as a writer's conference, it was more of a conference for storytellers. Regardless of whatever process you study in filmmaking (like editing, sound, directing, screenwriting, cinematography, vfx, etc.), every single one of them is a form of storytelling.

What I think encapsulates this weekend, the program, the people, perfectly was the closing event of the retreat—a screening of the incredible film Ida, followed by a panel discussion with BYU's film faculty. I love the film program so much. I'm grateful to be a part of it every single day. Easier than trying to delineate all the reasons why that statement rings true to me would be using this screening of Ida to represent what the program is all about. More important than writing workshops or plot structure or accolades is a discussion about faith and doubt and love.

I think that that says it all.

I updated the header of this little online journal of mine to reflect the fact that I've always been 90 years old at heart and I love it. I've been so unbelievably busy lately but I have been trying to make time for the things that I love.

I've been starting and reviving a lot of personal projects lately, which is super funny because I've never been busier than I am at this moment. But that's the funny thing about time. He's a sneaky lil guy. He's never going to show up and say, "Here I am! There's more than enough of me to do it all!" You have to make it. You have to give up some sleep and say "I'm doing this because it makes me happy."

There's never going to be enough hours in the day and you can let that stop you from living your dreams or you can try regardless. My days are busier than I have ever been, with spring classes moving at light speed and shooting ad campaigns at work and making movies on weekends with my people. But I've started on a few photo series and multiple video projects in the midst of it all and they are making me elated—anything but stressed.

If not now, then when? Live your dreams! Starting things tomorrow is overrated.

The end of the semester is hitting me like a brick wall. If I can make it to April 9th it's gonna be fine, but until then, I'm kind of holding on for dear life and making the title of this post my personal mantra. Here's a photograph of the sunset in February when life was simpler and more beautiful and mostly just less full of deadlines. It's gonna be fine, right?

My sister texted me this video the other day at work and my co-workers can testify that I cried actual tears because I was laughing so hard. It won the spot as my favorite cat video ever, right alongside stalking cat and cats try to understand treadmill. All of these bring me to tears. I just love cats so much—they understand life and they do whatever they want.

Working on lots of homework and video shoots this weekend.

Recently rediscovered how much I love honey bunches of oats (see below).

Law & Order. I could take or leave the crime, but I love love love the judicial side of it. I CAN'T STOP

I would like to hire Emma Stone's stylist from Spiderman 2 to redesign my life because I just want to be Gwen Stacy—is that too much to ask? Minus the dying part.

I don't feel like capitalizing things lately because I've been reading a lot of E. E. Cummings. But also grammar. I'm so torn right now. Mostly this post is going to act as a test post because I feel like making a new blog and having a fresh start. Here's a project about feminism that I made for one of my film classes. YOLO. Love you bbs.