I’ve been thinking about friendship lately. Perhaps it’s because I just watched one of my closest friends get married in Cabo San Lucas to an amazing guy who loves her and yet, I see how she still manages to make time for her friends or maybe it’s because in the past ten years of my life, I’ve come to realize how important friendships are… Whatever the reason is, truth be told, I’ve learned that friendships are important and should be treated as such and I’ve been thinking about that lately…

One such person is a beautiful girl I hung out with tonight.  A girl I’ve known for fifteen years. A girl who I’ve only lived in the same city as for two of these fifteen years. But more on her in a moment…

I didn’t always feel this way about friendships. I wish I did, but honestly, I used to treat friendships as though they were disposable and I went through many close friends, most of whom I don’t talk to anymore or if I do, it’s nothing more than a casual hello. I blame myself for much of this because I thought it was easier to keep people at a distance than be vulnerable and open up to them. But then, in my late teens-early twenties, I began to realize how important friendships can be and was fortunate enough to meet people who helped show me this.

Recently, someone “de-friended” me on Facebook because he disagreed with a status I wrote about a political figure. No joke. And while I accept his choice, his lack of tolerance and his need to vent anger at me because he didn’t like what I wrote made me think again about the importance of friendship. To be fair, I don’t really know this person that well and can likely assume his anger isn’t really at me but rather his own life, but nonetheless, it was interesting…

Friendship by definition (from my handy Apple dictionary of course) says it is “the state of being friends.” I like being friends with those who don’t agree with me. Those who do agree with me. Those who kinda agree with me. Those who think I’m crazy. Those who think I’m a genius. Those who think I’m trouble. Those who think I’m perfect. Those who think I’m far from perfect. It really doesn’t matter. Friendships are based on two individuals and their individual natures.

I’ll never forget the day I moved into the co-ed dorms at San Diego State University and a girl across the hall from me told me that I would love her roommate. She said I had to meet her because we would get along great. At the time, I thought, sure, whatever. I don’t know anyone here so why not. But then… I met her roommate and this girl was like meeting a part of myself. It wasn’t that we were identical. Far from it. But we got along beautifully, appreciated each others differences and enhanced each others similarities. We’ve been close ever since, even though she left San Diego after the following year.

It’s interesting though because we’re actually quite different from each other. She’s a liberal thinker politically and I’m more of an independent, no-government thinker. She embraces pets while I have never had any. She wakes up at the crack of dawn and I’ll sleep till noon if you let me. She doesn’t eat meat and a steak is my favorite meal. Point is, we’re not people who think exactly alike and yet… we’re the closest of friends and have been for over fifteen years.

I’ve recently completed a final cut for my latest short film and when I told her I wanted to show it to her, she didn’t hesitate for a second. She simply said, “I want to see it” and we made a date for it. She watches with an honest eye, and doesn’t tell me what I want to hear but rather tells me the truth. I like that. I value that. I love that. When a film of mine was playing at a festival in LA, she was one of the first to show up and then sat right by my side. She’s helped on practically every set I’ve ever run and not only helps, but works hard. She believes in me and I value that. I believe in her and love her with all my heart. I am stronger because of her.

It doesn’t matter if we think alike. That’s irrelevant. It’s about respect. And appreciation. And love.

That’s friendship.

Anyone who has seen the film “Sound of Music” knows the song “My Favorite Things”.

While I am not a huge fan of musicals, and in fact, kinda loathe them, as I couldn’t sit through “Mama Mia” and will not make the time to see “Moulin Rouge”, “Sound Of Music” has a special place in my heart. Perhaps it’s because I saw it as a kid, perhaps it’s because I like how strong Maria is, or maybe it just got to me when they had to run from the Nazi’s, but regardless, I do like it. I haven’t seen it in probably fifteen years but I was thinking about the song “My Favorite Things” today as I was cutting my film and I couldn’t help but smile when the song popped into my head. I mean, just read these lyrics:

When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I’m feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don’t feel so bad

Don’t you just want to get up and make clothes out of your curtains?***

Anyway, as I thought of this song, I started thinking about my favorite things and decided to write a blog about them. Below is a list of eleven (I like odd numbers) of my favorite things. Perhaps you may want to make your own list. Who knows, when you’re feeling sad, you may turn to your list and a smile will find its way upon your face…

***(inside joke for those who’ve seen the film)

“These are a few of my favorite things…”

1. My mother’s sneezes. She actually says “Ahh Choo, Ahh Choo”.

2. White sticky rice. I can eat it with just about anything, and at any time.

3. My Apple iMac –  a portal for my cyber life and an excellent tool for all my filmmaking.

4. Talking about films with my brother and father. We have very similar tastes and can talk for hours about the films of Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola, Michael Mann and Brian De Palma.

5. Chicken wings (I’m from Buffalo, it’s in my blood.)

6. Red wine (I’m Sicilian, it’s in my blood.)

7. Making people laugh when they don’t expect it.

8. Music.

9. My nephew’s need to close every door in the house and point out every candle.

10. My sister’s laugh.

11. Making films.

 

I debated writing this blog because I didn’t want it to come off egotistical but then, I remembered someone who had inspired me and I thought, screw it. I’m going to write it and let those who read it decide for themselves if it’s written in vanity…

A couple months ago, a regular who comes into the restaurant I work a few days a week at asked me if anyone has ever painted me. I practically laughed and said no, not thinking much of it. Then, she proceeded to tell me that she’s an artist but she hasn’t been doing any paintings in quite a while and she liked my face and told me I’ve inspired her to start again. She told me how when she and her husband had first met me years ago, she told him that she wanted to paint me. I was humbled by the experience and told her she could paint me if she wanted to. So then, we started talking about it. We met and I asked her some questions about the process and what would be expected of me. Honestly, I really enjoyed talking to her. I can appreciate the artistic process of finding one’s subject. As a filmmaker, I continually find subjects I want to explore in an artistic manner.

Anyway, we set a time and I went and sat for her. It was simple really. She let me sit and read a book, which is something I do all the time. But then, when I saw the first painting of me, I was blown away. It’s not an exact replica or anything, as she is a bit abstract, but she tried to capture a feeling and it was surreal to see the painting and be part of this artistic process for her. She tells me I’ve inspired her to paint and I’m really happy about that. It caused me to remember someone who had inspired me and had actually changed my life.

Years ago, when I was in college, I had a boyfriend for four years. He was my best friend and a great guy but I wasn’t being honest with myself that he really became just a friend to me, and not someone I wanted to be with on a romantic level any longer. Then one day, I crashed an English class where I met a graduate student (I was an undergrad.) He flirted a lot with me but most importantly, he got me to feel what it was like to be attracted to someone again. Not long after, I broke up with my boyfriend, which was one of the hardest things I ever did, and became friends with this grad student. He opened my mind to new music, new films, new books and a whole new way of thinking. I don’t know if he realizes that he did this for me because, I’ll be honest, I’ve never told him, but he truly inspired me. He inspired me to become the filmmaker I want to be. To live the life I want to have and I will forever be grateful for that.

Inspiration comes in many shapes and forms. But where ever one finds it, it’s lasting and memorable. But what I now realize is that it’s true on both sides.

We can inspire and be inspired. And what a beautiful thing that is.

The other night, I was at a bar where the scene was quiet young. And by young, I mean those who just became legal to drink. My friend and I were chatting with some people and I believe it was I who had mentioned the crowd was rather young at this particular bar and so, our ages came up. When this cute young girl said she thought I was twenty-five, I corrected her by telling her, “Nope, thirty-three.” And it was at this point where her jaw dropped. LITERALLY DROPPED. She couldn’t believe it. To her, thirty-three was old.

A different night, I was talking to a man in his later fifties and asked him the well-known question by Satchel Paige, “How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?” He answered that he would be in his early to mid thirties, remarking that it would be old enough to know himself and have certain knowledge of such. To him, that was the age he felt.

As I embark fully into my thirties, having recently turned thirty-three, I find myself thinking about age and whether it really matters or not. I suppose in terms of biology, it does. For example, a woman who wants to carry a baby must biologically be able to do so or the biological fact that we cannot live forever, but otherwise, does it really matter?

Clearly, we must mature into adulthood, but is there a single answer as to what “adulthood” is? I don’t believe so. For some, it’s getting married and having children. For others, it’s being independent and going after a demanding life dream. Or maybe a combination of both. I suppose it’s whatever is important and meaningful to that particular individual. Being one who has opted to go after the difficult livelihood of a filmmaker and not want the traditional adulthood of home, kids, etc… I find that I may perhaps think less about age than others, but regardless, I wonder why age itself would limit or define someone, with exception to reproduction and mortality. I plan on listening to the music I love until I die, I plan on seeing concerts until I’m unable to leave the house, I plan on making movies until I am physically no longer able to and I plan on living like I’m the age I feel, not the age I am, until my clock stops ticking.

Must age dictate what we can or cannot do?

Sure, we age every day, but while we are living, why not live as though we don’t? Yeah, we have to be aware of reality but what is age really, other than a measurement of our time on earth? There is no chart that says one must do X by so and so age. You create your own chart.

I’m thirty-three and have never had a full cup of coffee.

The next time you find yourself saying, “I’m too old for that” – ask yourself  – Why, exactly?

And then ponder this thoughtful question:

“How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?”
– Satchel Paige