the american

The George Clooney movie. Just finished watching it.

In short, his character is sharp, very sure of himself. He builds rifles-utterly precise, completely confident in his work, silent yet seasoned from years of craftsmanship. This sense of accomplishment, this ease of accuracy is something I've been thinking about recently. The time spent, the months, years racked to reach the point where your craft becomes second nature yet you still sacrifice moments of minute details. It's fascinating.

I wonder about the mental process, specifically what someone thinks about when they're going through the motions of a craft, a job, for the umpteenth time. Do they think about the previous times they've done the same thing? The opportunities for error? For perfection?

I'd like to think it's some cohesion of routine and fascination. Something between sifting through the motions and relishing the moment, static and dynamic. The potential (Guess what?) and the resolution (I know.).

Then again, this conclusion is a moment, a singular moment only attainable after an eternity of preparation. I'd like to call this preparation the process. And the process is really what's fascination about it all.