Dead Aim

I just returned from a meeting at a large studio. As I drove up, I had a small wave of excitement rush through me, but not because of the meeting.

It just so happens that this studio is where I had my first job when I moved to LA a few years ago. A behemoth media company owns this studio, one of the big ones. They shoot many, many movies here. They tape lots of television shows here. I’ve seen way more than my share of celebrities here. I got to walk on the set of my favorite TV show here and poke around.

When you drive past the guard shack you can see an outside set which looks like a New York or Chicago neighborhood. They’re all facades, but it looks amazingly real. Many times I would take my sack lunch and sit on the stoop of some fake apartment building as if I was hanging out in Brooklyn.

All this made me thing of that first job. It wasn’t anything fancy or glamorous – I was someone’s assistant – but it was Hollywood, baby. I had arrived. I remember doing assistant-like things: faxing, taking phone calls, sorting mail and spending a large amount of time at the copy machine.

Not long after I started, I was at the copy machine, making 1000 duplicates of some letter that needed to be sent out that very night. I just stood there watching the machine copy, collate and staple. Copy, collate and staple. Normally, this would be a mind-numbing experience, but at that very moment, I was giddy. Giddy as a schoolgirl. I was working in Hollywood and it didn’t matter that I was making copies. This kid from a small town in the Pacific Northwest was working at a large studio where they made movies.

Youthful optimism. Here’s to hoping I never forget what it feels like.