For the last four years, I’ve been lucky enough to work with my friends and define myself by what I do for a living. Some would say that’s unhealthy. That a job is a job and you should compartmentalize, keeping the stress of a job from affecting the rest of your life. I feel bad for those people. Truly. They’re either making a blanket statement with no regard for the TYPE of work or they are so miserable in their own jobs they need to create some rule that allows meaning to creep into their life from something happening before 9 a.m. and after 5 p.m.
But they’re wrong.
Thanks to Windsong Productions, I’ve worked with animal trainers. I’ve helped hospitals tell their stories. I’ve helped community based organizations reach out to their neighbors. I’ve sold cars and thrift stores and horse joint cream. I’ve worked with plastic pallets and Russian dentists. I’ve sold cars and bikes and a luxurious way of life. I’ve told the stories of interesting Fresnans and made a fool of myself a few more times than once. I’ve met football coaches, UFC fighters and spoken word poets. I’ve worked with applications, appetizers and Playboy centerfolds. I’ve been to Omaha, Atlanta, Philly and Visalia. I mean…I’ve spun a dental vacuum in a park.
And most importantly, I’ve done it with people I love. That’s not normal. I get that. I feel guilty loving Windsong and what I’ve done here so much. It’s a freak thing for someone with my background. Former strip club DJ’s don’t get these kinds of opportunities. Professional bank tellers and college dropouts aren’t afforded these chances. But I was. And I’ve let the work and learning I’ve done here stand as a testament to what I’m capable of and what I want the world to know about me.
Now…my work outside of Windsong has fulfilled me too. Let’s not get crazy. And those endeavors have far more artistic freedom, but as I reflect on my last hours at my desk here at Windsong, I can’t help but be intensely sad and grateful.
I’ve had the pleasure of working with my best friends. Byron and Sara have both been my mentors, partners, apprentices, confidantes, counselors and advisees at various points in our lives at Windsong. The idea that I won’t be getting on the bus at 6:45 tomorrow morning to head to work seems crazy. Scary, crazy, lonely.
But I do have the pleasure of knowing they will be there with me in New York. Reminding me to not keep doing the same thing as everyone else. That the first idea is never the best idea. That you can always take a few more minutes to look at something before it goes out. To be a boss. To find the story. That snacks are important. To just start making decisions. To order jelly donuts.
And for that, I am grateful.
If you’re ever in New York, look me up. I’ll be the fat guy with blue glasses named Hootz with a big steampunk angel wing back piece tattoo that says “Windsong For Life.”
