Lingering in the past is dangerous. It can weaken us, chastise us. It makes us rest on our laurels when we don't quite deserve to do so. But, on rare occasions, I also think brief reminders of what we have been through can re-energize us, quicken our pace, and freshen our outlook. Today, I am going to devote a post to do just that. Please forgive this quick act of self-indulgence.
Today, I woke up and had an overbearing urge to write about the two years I spent as a projectionist at UGA's student center. I had plenty of good times in that little theater, saw many good movies, and made plenty of good friends.
For over a year and half, I worked the Saturday night shift. I didn't mind. I would write or read, and that funny little clicking of the projector was oddly therapeutic. That projection room became my Zen garden.
I was proud of that little minimum-wage job. I was so excited that I had an "-ist" at the end of my job title. It meant that I had a skill and some knowledge. I loved the fact that the movie was not possible until someone like me came by, threaded the film, and pressed the button. I was apart of the system, and it needed a skilled individual like me to come by and make it all possible. It was a nice little break from being just another twenty-year-old kid in a red T-shirt.
My friends would usually catch the last showing and wait for me as I closed down the theater. Afterwards, we would linger in the lobby till they closed the student center. We would joke and kid. They will probably be the best friends I will ever make.
I loved that little theater. I would project the movies, and would often pretend I was projecting my own. My time there was not perfect, but it was perfect for me at that time. Of course, one of the great tragedies in life is that you rarely realize how special those little moments are till they are gone.
Flippo
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