After 365 days, Friday will be my last one at the film studio. There has been nothing clearer lately than realizing the emotional burden I have felt; how thin I have stretched myself out. Initially, when I came to this realization, I was ECSTATIC. (Working one job? Having NIGHTS free? Two days off…IN A ROW?) Months and months of bitterness and resentment finally came to the surface and disintegrated…
…Now, it’s starting to sink in what, exactly, I’ll be leaving.
I’ll be leaving a great history I’ve never paid too much attention to, except when I’d hear a veteran tell a quick story about Clooney or Bogart. Or when I’d get a chill after passing the sound stages which held my favorite films. I’ll be leaving the comfort of a beautiful backlot, reminding me seasons CAN change on the west coast (and not just through Starbucks flavors). I can’t forget to mention I’ll be leaving the crew members, security, and array of guests I’ve stumbled upon. Despite bad days, there were always good hearts in the crowd. I’ll be leaving the obvious — my friends. Well, they’re more than that. They have been my creative partners, my visionaries, my confidants, my arch enemies, and with some, if I didn’t know any better, the loves of my life. When you start a new journey somewhere, no matter how social you are, making true friends is the hardest part. You have to go on a million dates, sorting out the truthful ones from the deceitful. (Although, you keep the deceitful ones around for the good gossip.) I’d be lying if I said the relationships I made were the latter. They were all very much real, and still are.
There’s not much else I’d like to say, except how blessed my life continues to be. I do not regret, for a second, applying for this job which allowed these unique and wonderful moments to take place. For those who know my pessimistic nature, I apologize, because that’s not how this chapter should end. On Friday night, I would like to walk out of Building 160 (when most of the Porsches have left the parking structure) knowing my coworkers will remember the Nina who first started. The optimistic, go-getting, easy-to-please girl. Whose hair wasn’t as blonde, and whose spirit wasn’t as jaded. The girl who saw the good in everyone and laughed with the rest. In actuality, maybe you won’t forget her. She’ll be found frolicking around the backlots, waiting for her second-season pickup.
The only way I can close out this post is to quote my number-one, Brad Pitt, and say, “I guess that’s what happens in the end, you start thinking about the beginning.” Cheers to all of you, and to all of your dreams. You have at least one fan.