It’s astonishing how quickly time passes when you don’t really want it to. You keep thinking it’s Wednesday, a perpetual moment of neither here nor there, comfortably situated mid-week to allow you that last burst of work output (if you’re behind) and not too far from Friday (if you’re finished and want the weekend). You want it to be Wednesday, but the clock advises you to consider getting with the times or face imminent loss of face when you show up for a Thursday meeting on Friday. It is Friday, isn’t it? And I didn’t even notice Thursday. Thursday was a blurry, out of focus, hazy mass of blur. When I snapped out of my cloudy fog, it was Friday, and I feared the worst.
Not to worry. I planned accordingly. Instead of scheduling a Thursday meeting to which I would either be late or completely absent, it was agreed that Friday would be ideal. Now at least I won’t be a no-show. But I still have 192 frames of three dimensional visual trickery to complete before 1:30. Aren’t I the lucky one?
If you thought I was depressed yesterday and about to ditch my writing career in favour of something more stable, like janitorial service, hopefully you first considered the fact that my “career” thus far consists of unpublished ephemera, ongoing literary projects, film scripts, and this blog, which runs the gamut from essay-like pages on the mundane and uneternal to horrible mutated Resident Evil creature-like writing, where you don’t know whether to laugh nervously or run away. If I had to abandon it, the happy-meter might decrease slightly, but it wouldn’t really affect my financial state. So I figure, why quit now?
I’m lucky in that I already know, and acknowledge that for every good word I write, I write a thousand bad ones, and someone else is writing three hundred good ones. And they have an agent. Most people take years to realize this truth, so in some ways, I’m ahead of the curve. It’s just a question of taking that acknowledgement and turning it into profit. And since I’m not so good at math (as demonstrated yesterday) I guess I’ll write. And edit feature films. And create film titles, and production logos. And direct short films. Basically everything that I love.
One can roll complaints like cigarettes. It takes a cheerfully optimistic person to unroll the cigarette and use the leaves in a salad. Or an idiot. Either way, I’m doing fine, thanks for asking. Have a great weekend, and look for a podcast sometime before Monday. Cheers.