For the June 2025 IndieWeb Carnival by Nick: “Take Two”

Joe:

READY CAMERA ONE.

Joe:

TAKE ONE.

Joe:

CAMERA TWO DOLLY BACK TO A TWO SHOT.

Joe:

READY CAMERA TWO.

Joe:

TAKE TWO.

In 1988 I took a class at San Diego City College on Radio & TV Production. I learned to read a tv script. I learned to run a video camera. I learned to be a floor director counting down with my voice and fingers for talent on screen. I learned to also be on camera. And I learned to be a director of a live tv production.

In that role, I was “the guy in the chair.” My voice could carry to all the other people on the team. And I could talk to the technical director to hit the switches that switched what was on screen. “Ready camera two” is said in the control room, to get ready to switch to the camera. “Take two” means go ahead and switch to that view.

I do not use what I learned in a job in radio and television. I haven’t ever really done work in television but it taught me about media. How someone is making choices about what is happening on a screen. It taught me about live television. And edited television. And the differences.

Every piece of media we watch has choices that were made. Photography is made of editorial choices. It applies to visual artists and interactive artists of every kind. Nam Jun Paik’s video art. Play Fortnite. The screen is the result of choices being made.

“Take Two” in live television is… different from “Take Two” in a movie.

In film, “Take Two” means let’s try it again.

The “do-over” as Nick said in the prompt for this post.

I have gotten so many do-overs.

I moved around a lot as a kid.

I was born in San Diego. And when I was 3 we moved a hundred miles away to Riverside, California.

And then 60 miles away o Los Angeles right next to General Hospital (L.A. County Medical Center).

Then, Alhambra for age 4. I attended Kindergarten and exceeded expectations so well I was skipped a grade.

I promptly began to fail to meet expectations. Do over.

That lasted a few years and then we were living 11,000 kilometers away. Manila, in the Philippines. Do over.

Each of these were in their way radical changes in scene.

Each one a new take.

But more like a Television “Take Two.”

Not really a Film “Take Two.”

New scene. New script. New setting. New actors. New lighting. New special effects.

I think a Film “Take Two” is more like one of those videos where you see someone trying to land the same skateboard trick over and over. Tony Hawk doing his 1080s over and over and failing and landing on his butt. Or those videos where again and again some eager young person tries to toss that water bottle end-over-end so that it will land on its butt.

So what are my do-overs?

Before I got married Dave Segovia asked me about my wife. I was working in downtown Los Angeles in the mid-1990s. Night shift respiratory therapist. Handwriting HTML on my worksheets on breaks thinking about web pages yet unwritten. I was living with J at the time. My girlfriend.

Dave Segovia:

How’s your wife?

Joe Crawford:

I’m not married Dave.

Dave:

Oh Joe, you’re married.

Joe:

I am not married.

Dave:

Do you have something about her that drives you crazy? Maybe the way she chews gum?

Joe:

…

Dave:

But you stay with her anyway right?

Joe:

Yes, she’s great.

Dave:

See Joe, you’re married.

I married her a few years later. There was a horse and carriage and it was all so romantic and hopeful.

Things changed. And dissolved.

I married again a few years later. No carriage. But there were slot machines. The second was successful enough for a decade and a half.

I don’t think I’ll do a third, though, by my late friend Dave‘s definition I’m married.

I’ve kept moving. Job to job. Place to place.

Every time a new scene. A new story. A new take.

Along the way, even broke or hopeless, I have thought of how lucky I have been to get to try again.

That’s the blessing–and the curse–of the living.

The dead get no do-overs.

My cousin Eddie. My mother. My grandfather. My grandmother. My friend Jennifer.

I didn’t want this post go to take a turn toward meditations on mortality. But it’s unavoidable. Sorry.

I am lucky to get a chance to start again on things. To give things a new try. To practice. I try to appreciate each new try.

Riding waves, which I do often, each time out is a new lesson. Sometimes I get hurt. Sometimes I get a great ride. Sometimes both.

Ahe wave rises, crests, breaks, collapses. Try to time your actions to ride the wave in a way you like.

Each chance is utterly unique. Each wave moving water like all the rest. But each one a new take.

I am happy to have the chance for each new take.

Take Two.

If you liked this, you might also like my post Reboot, Renewal, also from an IndieWeb Carnival.