I’m writing this on a Saturday night. A Saturday night. Gonna make you feel alright.
Yeah, one day rolls into the next for me.The product of burning the candle at both ends. I know it’s date night for you. You’re probably out watching the fireworks. With your special someone.
But, I’m not.
I only have one job that really, truly, pays the bills. But I give both equal attention.
Tonight, I want to talk about the writing gig. Because a lot of the people who follow me seem to be fellow writers. So, I figure we can all get together and have a circle jerk and stare at our respective navels.
I’m in promotion mode. I’m sure you realise that. As, I don’t really blog here anymore. Not like I used to. I’m too busy out there in the world promoting a film I produced and wrote.
Promoting is a very interesting conundrum for writers. To misquote Alyssa Edwards, I’m sure that we all “got up in this gig, girl” because we would rather stay home than head out and talk to large crowds of people. It could be partly my age, but I really don’t like going anywhere where I don’t know more than two or three people. It could also be, to quoth my first grade report card, because I “don’t like the boisterous play of my peers”. Clocked at the aged of 6. They do say, show me the child of 7, and I’ll show you the man. Well, they certainly got me. I still like my own company. I still like music and drama. I do spend more time in my imaginary world than in the real one (it’s the reason I write stories). And I still like working in groups. Guess I was always meant for this filmmaking gig.
So, why do I daydream of giving it up? Running away to a organic vegetable farm in Byron Bay. Going on a ten day mediation retreat in the mountains (that I ran away from as an 18 year old). Doing Tai Chi again. Stop the world. I want to get off.
Take a holiday you say? Right now I’d settle for a day off.
Robin Williams death has hit me hard. As it did the whole world. I’m not special at all on that count. But, it has come at an interesting time.
Back when I was dreaming of becoming a performer, at the tender age of 16 going on 17, the top nightclub act in my town committed suicide. A man who had everything I wanted in the world. Now the same thing has happened again.
I don’t want to be an actor. Seems at the end, neither did Robin. He said the act of taking on another character sent him over the edge. It raised too many demons. But, I don’t want to sit here and speculate why my favourite childhood actor and comedian decided or was driven to end it all. But it does come at a funny (as in strange) time of my life.
In so many ways, this second foray into the entertainment world, is an exact copy of the first. I’m hitting so many of the same markers. If the trend continues, this means that I am on the cusp of huge success, that will lead to an embarrassing mistake, then a re-emergence from the ashes to the greatest success of all. But, then it also means that I’m not far from complete burnout and taking two years or more to recover. Finally to find a compromise that works for my mental health, but means that once my time is over, only a handful of people will remember that I was ever successful in the first place.
Hopefully, I’ll handle it better this time. At least I can see the warning signs. I know I have to hit while the iron is hot. But, I also know I’ve got to take care of myself. Can’t expect anyone to do that for me.
My partner of 8 years split with me. It’s been over six months now. We had a tempestuous on/off relationship. Still, it provided a stability I miss. I am without an anchor now. I have to be my own anchor. Jesus is my anchor, but the long distance nature of the relationship makes it difficult. A Sanskrit pseudo-prophet that I follow on youtube says that a relationship is only the story we tell ourselves in our heads. It doesn’t actually exist in the real world. Unless you are physically with the object of your affections, then it doesn’t exist. It’s a terribly early childhood development view of the world. I forget the age now, but there is a stage of our development where if a child cannot see an object, it believes that it is gone forever. These stories that we tell ourselves are an important developmental stage. A hard won proof that we are adult. Still it is an interesting way of looking at the relationship. This person is no longer in my life, therefore, they don’t exist anymore. Poof. Gone. Done. The thought of it helps, and at the same time doesn’t help. Thinking of the love of your life as dead to you can’t be healthy. But then, it could be a healthy phase to go through in order to get to the other side. Where I might find someone to share my life with.
I did hope to find someone before I became successful (am I successful?). I wanted to believe that this person loved me for me. Not because of who I was/am. Because all of that is fleeting. A rich person is only rich because everyone else in the world puts value into bits of paper with people’s faces printed on it. The moment we wake up from that dream, then we are all poor, or we are all rich. Or we might find out that money doesn’t matter.
But, it does matter. In this society as we live in it now. Talk to someone who doesn’t have enough.
Perhaps this is the point where I will finish this. It’s a little like those early films where they just shot anything without editing and just shot until the film ran out.
I’ve ran out of thoughts. For now. It’s time to sleep.
I look forward to tomorrow morning. I’m working on a music video project tomorrow. Looking for props.
Props to you.