For the last few days I've been a P.A. (Production Assistant) on a student film for the American Film Institute. It's hardly the first time I've done that and as usual it was quite a bit of fun as well as a great learning experience. However I ran into something I didn't think would happen... Turkish people on the set. In fact, the entire Art Department, which was four people, were Turkish, and I just happened to have been assigned as an Art P.A..
The whole thing felt.... weird. I don't know, just helping Turks felt weird to me, even though they as individuals seemed like cool people... but still, something about it felt wrong... I just wanted to go home, it was as if just being in their presence was disturbing to my soul or something, I couldn't describe it.
Again, they never did anything wrong to me... in fact they bought us lunch (I felt weird taking "gifts" from a Turk) and I think one of the girls in the group had a crush on me cause every time I looked over at her she was already looking at me, and blushed and looked away each time. But still.. hearing them talking in their language, hearing them laughing, helping them work, and not to mention being 'out numbered' by Turks (I was obviously the only Armenian there) just felt... wrong. Everything about the situation made my skin crawl in a way I've never experienced before, and as nice as they were...
...I wanted to kill them.
The whole thing felt.... weird. I don't know, just helping Turks felt weird to me, even though they as individuals seemed like cool people... but still, something about it felt wrong... I just wanted to go home, it was as if just being in their presence was disturbing to my soul or something, I couldn't describe it.
Again, they never did anything wrong to me... in fact they bought us lunch (I felt weird taking "gifts" from a Turk) and I think one of the girls in the group had a crush on me cause every time I looked over at her she was already looking at me, and blushed and looked away each time. But still.. hearing them talking in their language, hearing them laughing, helping them work, and not to mention being 'out numbered' by Turks (I was obviously the only Armenian there) just felt... wrong. Everything about the situation made my skin crawl in a way I've never experienced before, and as nice as they were...
...I wanted to kill them.
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