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For some reason, maybe it's that this tiny laptop has squeezed my internet through too small a window or something, but for some reason I keep thinking of posting and not doing it. It's so much work. I feel like I'm thinking through wet cement. Andy attributed this to my (confessed) sudden need to be working on a script with the kind of focus I had for Ellipsis, but I have no such script ready for such focus -- what he called "Writer's Rush." Jon said, "You just passed a script stone and you're bound to feel a little off." Whatever you call it, I can't get motivated but I feel the need to be working. Or: writing. (Because I could be editing, and even though the daunting task of emptying the studio -- which I'm actively and stupidly avoiding -- stands between me and doing so, the real reason I'm not is I don't feel like editing; I feel like writing.) I can't even motivate myself to write a blog entry.
Things have happened, mundane things but things no more mundane than a million other things I've posted about.
Like, I had a dream last night where I was caught kissing a girl by another girl, and a jealousy/love-triangle thing was happening, where I had to choose between an old friend from high school and a current friend, both of whom I've had kind of crushes on but neither of whom I've ever kissed.
Or like, I saw The Dark Knight again and I stand by all my previous criticisms, but I loved it even more on second watching despite those criticisms.
Or like, I worked a day at Laika and had my next two shifts deleted due to a project cancellation (but had a karmic balance in getting to schedule two new days for a different part of the same commercial project in early August).
Or like, I got worries, man. Maybe just normal typical Travis worries, but isn't that all I freakin' write about anyway?
But lately: the internet's been hard to bother keeping up with. Scrabble feels like a burden. I let my friends page go days between readings (formerly unheard of). I don't even bother with the sometimes-check-in sites like Goodreads, Myspace, or the Oregon Media Network. I haven't written several overdue emails (Ellen/NWFC, Ingrid/RACC, to name two).
I typed all that. I was going to try to, you know, wrap it up or something. But even that... is... you know. Wet cement.
Things have happened, mundane things but things no more mundane than a million other things I've posted about.
Like, I had a dream last night where I was caught kissing a girl by another girl, and a jealousy/love-triangle thing was happening, where I had to choose between an old friend from high school and a current friend, both of whom I've had kind of crushes on but neither of whom I've ever kissed.
Or like, I saw The Dark Knight again and I stand by all my previous criticisms, but I loved it even more on second watching despite those criticisms.
Or like, I worked a day at Laika and had my next two shifts deleted due to a project cancellation (but had a karmic balance in getting to schedule two new days for a different part of the same commercial project in early August).
Or like, I got worries, man. Maybe just normal typical Travis worries, but isn't that all I freakin' write about anyway?
But lately: the internet's been hard to bother keeping up with. Scrabble feels like a burden. I let my friends page go days between readings (formerly unheard of). I don't even bother with the sometimes-check-in sites like Goodreads, Myspace, or the Oregon Media Network. I haven't written several overdue emails (Ellen/NWFC, Ingrid/RACC, to name two).
I typed all that. I was going to try to, you know, wrap it up or something. But even that... is... you know. Wet cement.