Here's To Complex Emotions

Language is wonderful, and I'm all very fond of the English language, it being the most familiar to me, but language doesn't always do justice to our experience.

There have been rare occasions, for example, when I'll experience an emotion that a single word cannot describe. It will be complex enough that I'll have to stop and think about what in the hell *am* I feeling at that point in time. These are pretty interesting moments, and I hope to have other people share one or two of their own personal "complex emotions."

So, here's one of mine.

I was just out of college, and there was a low-budget independent feature film being shot in my hometown of Springfield. For the most part, the cast and crew were from LA and New York.

I moved back in briefly with my parents, and managed to get on the film, working for free as a lowly Production Assistant. When one of the electrician crew got a little too wasted (wasted enough to get fired), I was given the opportunity to take his place.

I worked very hard for the rest of the film, learned a lot, etc. The director and the cinematographer of the movie had a history -- they had done a couple movies before, and though they clashed once or twice during the production, one could see that they were very close.

So, the shooting of the movie finishes, and they're having a wrap party at a local bar in Springfield. I was in a very good mood -- I had feature film experience under my belt just out of college, and the film's production company actually ended up paying me for my electrician work (which I hadn't really been expecting).

So, I wanted to go up to the director during the wrap party at some point and express my sincere gratitude. I was getting ready to leave the party, and spotted him. At this moment, however, he and the cinematographer were talking. As I neared the two, I realized they were bonding over finishing yet another movie together. They weren't crying or anything, but I could tell it was an emotional moment.

So, their moment ends, and then the cinematographer walks off. I walk up to the director, and say, "Michael, I just want to say how much I appreciate you giving me this chance. Thank you so much." I can't remember exactly what Michael said, but I do definitely remember he never looked at me while I was talking or while he responded. It felt like he was still in that other moment, and I seriously doubt if on the following day he would have remembered talking to me.

The thing was, I thought it was incredibly funny that he was ignoring me in my attempt to give thanks to him -- that I was on the ass-end of someone else's meaningful moment.

I guess my best attempt at describing what I was feeling would be "gloriously inconsequential."

So, any of you out there care to share a sample of your own complex emotion?

Or am I just the most fragile, sensitive flower in the blogosphere?