If You've Nothing Nice to Say...
What can I say? Things are fucked. Apparently my victory dance was a bit premature and God is having some fun torturing me for my insolence. I have no job security. In fact, in all likelihood I will be out of work in a couple of weeks. This is not cool. I won't bother laying out the reasons why. It's obvious. I keep telling myself it will alllll work out, but I'm an admitted liar. So who can you believe?
I am eating and sleeping poorly. I am very stressed out about the work that I do have to do. Script writing is scary when you don't know what you're doing. I've only written one television script ever and that was nearly a year ago. I have 6 scripts to write and getting started is killing me. In fact, I wouldn't be writing here if things were going well with the tv writing. I can't seem to escape "check it out" or "tune in". It's nauseating. Perhaps I should try to find something else to do for a living. Suggestions are welcome.
Halloween has passed. I went as a baby boomer. It was a group costume and I think we were rather spectacular. I found a to-the-floor black smock dress - very flowy and shapeless - that I paired up with socks and multi-coloured Birkenstocks. I whited out sections of my hair and put on an arty pair of eyeglasses. I topped the whole ensemble off with a charmingly homespun shawl. Isn't that fun? I was going for the 50-something English professor look. You know, a film festival-goer. A patron of the arts. A wacky, wealthy smock-wearing intellectual. The rest of group's party wear included a Guatemalan jumper with an African print, pleated denim dress pants, a Vancouver Film Festival t-shirt under a Native print vest, a dreamcatcher sweatshirt and even more socks and sandals. And let's not forget desperate male pony-tails and fun straw hats! We were hideous... and invisible. People didn't look twice at us. No one could tell we were in costume. We went to a super trendy place for dinner and loudly peppered our conversation with "wouldn't fondue be fun?" and "this menu is too trendy to read!" and "reefer", "nukes" and "right on!". It was a hoot. I don't feel like I'm doing the costumes justice. Just trust me - it was a clever costume.
I had lunch with a friend. He is doing quite well. Making a real living out of being a writer. Of course, he's had to turn to the USA to make this happen. Typical. But I'm happy for him and he does inspire me. Now if only I were to write something...
It's near the end of the day and I've made little progress. Perhaps things will be better tomorrow. I'm worried, let me tells you. It appears that threat of homelessness and abject poverty make it hard to write creatively. Who knew?
I am eating and sleeping poorly. I am very stressed out about the work that I do have to do. Script writing is scary when you don't know what you're doing. I've only written one television script ever and that was nearly a year ago. I have 6 scripts to write and getting started is killing me. In fact, I wouldn't be writing here if things were going well with the tv writing. I can't seem to escape "check it out" or "tune in". It's nauseating. Perhaps I should try to find something else to do for a living. Suggestions are welcome.
Halloween has passed. I went as a baby boomer. It was a group costume and I think we were rather spectacular. I found a to-the-floor black smock dress - very flowy and shapeless - that I paired up with socks and multi-coloured Birkenstocks. I whited out sections of my hair and put on an arty pair of eyeglasses. I topped the whole ensemble off with a charmingly homespun shawl. Isn't that fun? I was going for the 50-something English professor look. You know, a film festival-goer. A patron of the arts. A wacky, wealthy smock-wearing intellectual. The rest of group's party wear included a Guatemalan jumper with an African print, pleated denim dress pants, a Vancouver Film Festival t-shirt under a Native print vest, a dreamcatcher sweatshirt and even more socks and sandals. And let's not forget desperate male pony-tails and fun straw hats! We were hideous... and invisible. People didn't look twice at us. No one could tell we were in costume. We went to a super trendy place for dinner and loudly peppered our conversation with "wouldn't fondue be fun?" and "this menu is too trendy to read!" and "reefer", "nukes" and "right on!". It was a hoot. I don't feel like I'm doing the costumes justice. Just trust me - it was a clever costume.
I had lunch with a friend. He is doing quite well. Making a real living out of being a writer. Of course, he's had to turn to the USA to make this happen. Typical. But I'm happy for him and he does inspire me. Now if only I were to write something...
It's near the end of the day and I've made little progress. Perhaps things will be better tomorrow. I'm worried, let me tells you. It appears that threat of homelessness and abject poverty make it hard to write creatively. Who knew?
posted by ... at 3:30 PM
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