March 7, 2024
Something in the way
Growing up, I found my dad to be a real pain in the ass. Everything had a way it was supposed to be done. That’s not how you wash the car or fold your dress pants. Your files aren’t organized; your camera shake is showing up in the video; you’re articulating poorly in your presentation. His nitpicking for details drove me insane.
As an editor with a background in film and radio, he seemed the obvious choice to bring my school projects for last minute refining. Then at 10:00, mere hours before a deadline, he would tear my paper to shreds, axing entire paragraphs. The document would bleed red with suggestions.
Yesterday, as I sat outside on the UTC campus while Julian tore through my script, I was brought back to my adolescent PTSD. The way he scrutinized every word and challenged me with his questions, while I internally asked myself, “How many times are you going to make me do this?” all reminded me of editing sessions with my dad.
This is not to say I have a bad dad; he’s great. Matter of fact, as I’ve aged, I’ve grown to appreciate his attention to detail, especially during my time in India.
Yesterday, when I was supposed to be writing this, I was exhausted and high on anxiety tearing through footage for our two minute video. I couldn’t help but think how damn helpful my dad would be. Regardless, I sweated over each piece of footage, every awry clip of audio, and every transition. Still didn’t turn out great.
But how can you not? This work is the culmination of 10 weeks on the other side of the world. Whether it’s ensuring our video flows smoothly or rolling down my sleeves during our final presentation, there is something in the way the little details speak not only to who I am, but what this experience means to me.
Three weeks ago, Ridgely and I were pouring through frustrations with our projects attempting to bolster rain water harvesting and public garbage cans. Amid our conversation, something in the way we were discussing Grand Challenges while floating in the Indian Ocean off the coast of Pondicherry on a bright and sunny day in February made me chuckle.
At our final meal before leaving Pondicherry, all of GCIL sat along a lengthy table. I zoned out from the conversation and looked up at the French style balconies above. At that moment, something in the way twenty Americans were sitting at a French restaurant listening to Bob Dylan on the eastern coast of India made me smile.
The roof of UTC has been a location admired by nearly all of GCIL. There is something in the way the trees sway in the wind, while the train horns blow, the hawks fly and the sun sets that brings me unrivaled relaxation.
There’s something in the way attention to detail makes our presence all that more meaningful. In all seriousness, the way you fold your dress pants doesn’t really matter. These clips of footage probably don’t either. But in culmination, the details we emphasize in ourselves, along with those we notice around us, define who we are.
Tomorrow, as I’m reading this, will be the last day of GCIL (cue sad music). To my fellow GCIL members, the people of India I’ve been blessed to meet, my dad, and even Julian, I’d like to give thanks for the experience of the last 10 weeks. And moreover, for helping me to see the way attention to detail makes life all that much better.
I bid you all goodnight. It’s late, and I’m up early tomorrow to reshoot footage for our two minute video. Here’s to hoping there’s something in the way it all comes together.
By Andoni
