I'm a recovering selfaholic. I used to be amazingly, painfully, disgustingly selfish. It didn't matter what it was--a bag of chips or homework I'd done or just general knowledge that you didn't have--if it was mine, you wasn't getting it sucka. And if you had it and it was popular/cute believe I would have it tomorrow. Essentially, I was a prick. And in my mind at that time, if you didn't like me you were stupid or jealous. And while I still basically feel this way (I SAID BASIC), back then these were facts of life. There was no grey area (now I can recognize when I've given people reason to not like me). I'm amazed that I had any friends. It used to floor me when people would do nice things for no reason. I just didn't get it. It sounds so stupid, I know. But that is the only way I know how to explain that truth. I think I just grossly wanted to outdo everybody. I NEEDED to be one up on everyone at all times. It was exhausting.
And my poor first, real boyfriend. I was about to say bless his soul, but his soul is on its way to hell and I don't want to interfere with what fate has planned so, I'm going to keep it moving and say I'm just glad I can look back on those guys and appreciate how much some of them had to have liked me cuz I really did not give a fuck. I thought I did at the time, but I didn't. I didn't know how to put forth effort. I didn't know what it actually meant to care about someone else. I didn't know what my actions should entail. It was my world, you were just in it. No hard feelings, I'm sure.
Now that I know better, I try really hard to do better. One day some years ago, I sat down and said to myself, "Self, do you really care about the damn ice cream? Who cares if Aura ate it all? Seriously? Are you fucking kidding me right now? Yea, it's inconsiderate, but you don't care. You really don't. You didn't even pay for it." I'm up here losing my fucking mind behind two scoops of ice cream. That let's you guys know just how big my problems were back then. If ONLY I knew then...
What I know now is that giving what you can without sacrificing yourself totally just might be the key to having a happy life. So it's really all selfish in the end, I guess. When I put it that way. But still everyone's happy here. This realization has changed my world more than I can ever explain while still keeping your attention.
Now, I'm not saying I'm totally cured. If you drink the last Coke, I will break your face. But overall, I'll go with I'm at 95.5% recovery. Ok 90%. As with alcoholics, I guess I will always be recovering once I've been to the darkside. Sometimes I still hide a little food when I know my brother's coming around. Sometimes I'll keep my eye contact straight when I see a homeless person. Every now and then I won't let someone over in traffic. Occasionally I'll catch myself lying about something small inadvertently. (NOTE: If it feels like I'm lying, act outraged about it and I'll immediately say I don't know why I just said that. Please, come, have the last bag of fruit snacks.) When I'm not thinking, I still default back sometimes, but I'm trying really hard. I'm almost there.
I don't care about anything--but in a good way. I don't care about anything to the extent that I'm not about stop you from having what you want if I have anything to do with it. Especially if I ain't using it. Girl, here. Of course I still have to be my main priority, but if it'll make you happier than it's made me--it's yours. You can have the clothes off my back. Just remind me that I'm not that into them and need to make room for some new crap-I'm-going-to-be-over-next-month anyway.
The wild thing is that now it's made me keenly aware of when people are like the old me. It's much, much easier to be mean and not do anything extra for anybody. I think it comes very natural to certain people, but it's just plain immaturity. And while it's harder to be nice, it becomes second-nature once you realize how wrong you are. That's the crazy part about it. You just have to think about it. I don't think it's possible to ever really love anyone when you're that way. I'm generally genuinely ridiculously happy when fabulous things happen to other people. I can say that while it's definitely harder to be nice, especially not all the time, it pays off. It all comes back. Plus you can recognize that same niceness in other people and help each other out. It makes life wonderous. I'm free. Do the right thing people. All that stuff we learned in kindergarten was the truth. Honesty is the best policy...do unto others...don't take kindness for weakness...all that. Somebody genius tried to prepare us early in life and some of us listened and some of us thought we knew better. Man in the mirror. Nothing but the truth. It'll be all worth it if when I die at least ONE person would write something like this about moi:
One night, as I’m standing on LaSalle Street in Chicago, trying to line up a shot for “The Dark Knight,” a production assistant skateboards into my line of sight. Silently, I curse the moment that Heath first skated onto our set in full character makeup. I’d fretted about the reaction of Batman fans to a skateboarding Joker, but the actual result was a proliferation of skateboards among the younger crew members. If you’d asked those kids why they had chosen to bring their boards to work, they would have answered honestly that they didn’t know. That’s real charisma—as invisible and natural as gravity. That’s what Heath had.
Heath was bursting with creativity. It was in his every gesture. He once told me that he liked to wait between jobs until he was creatively hungry. Until he needed it again. He brought that attitude to our set every day. There aren’t many actors who can make you feel ashamed of how often you complain about doing the best job in the world. Heath was one of them.
One time he and another actor were shooting a complex scene. We had two days to shoot it, and at the end of the first day, they’d really found something and Heath was worried that he might not have it if we stopped. He wanted to carry on and finish. It’s tough to ask the crew to work late when we all know there’s plenty of time to finish the next day. But everyone seemed to understand that Heath had something special and that we had to capture it before it disappeared. Months later, I learned that as Heath left the set that night, he quietly thanked each crew member for working late. Quietly. Not trying to make a point, just grateful for the chance to create that they’d given him.
Those nights on the streets of Chicago were filled with stunts. These can be boring times for an actor, but Heath was fascinated, eagerly accepting our invitation to ride in the camera car as we chased vehicles through movie traffic—not just for the thrill ride, but to be a part of it. Of everything. He’d brought his laptop along in the car, and we had a high-speed screening of two of his works-in-progress: short films he’d made that were exciting and haunting. Their exuberance made me feel jaded and leaden. I’ve never felt as old as I did watching Heath explore his talents. That night I made him an offer—knowing he wouldn’t take me up on it—that he should feel free to come by the set when he had a night off so he could see what we were up to.
When you get into the edit suite after shooting a movie, you feel a responsibility to an actor who has trusted you, and Heath gave us everything. As we started my cut, I would wonder about each take we chose, each trim we made. I would visualize the screening where we’d have to show him the finished film—sitting three or four rows behind him, watching the movements of his head for clues to what he was thinking about what we’d done with all that he’d given us. Now that screening will never be real. I see him every day in my edit suite. I study his face, his voice. And I miss him terribly.
Back on LaSalle Street, I turn to my assistant director and I tell him to clear the skateboarding kid out of my line of sight when I realize—it’s Heath, woolly hat pulled low over his eyes, here on his night off to take me up on my offer. I can’t help but smile.
PS I don't get the video either.
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