“When perfectionism is driving, shame is riding shotgun, and fear is that annoying backseat driver.” Brené Brown
Sometimes I feel like the girl who cried film.
I first wrote a blog post introducing Tiny Buddha Productions three years ago, and despite my earnestness, passion, and enthusiasm, I have only one short film to show for myself.
When I was working on this short, which we filmed partly in my apartment—in my bedroom, amid the worn clothes and shoes in my walk-in closet even—I felt more alive and aligned than I’d felt in years.
I was doing something I’d wanted to do since college, in LA, the mecca of filmmaking, with a team of talented people I admired and respected.
I was telling a story that felt deeply personal and authentic to me, sometimes tearing up behind the camera because it was finally happening, after months of planning, failing, and trying again.
It kind of felt like a Jerry Maguire moment. I wasn’t my father’s son again, but I was the old me again—the me who felt most at home amidst lights, costumes, and makeup, even when I was standing back and watching other people shine. The me who felt a sense of belonging in a family of oddball actors and crew members who seemed like reflections of myself.
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