Views: Michael Jackson is weird.
And in Tuesday Morning Blues: My laptop is kaput. I need help.
And on to my journal entry...
"Roses are red, violets are blue. I'm a Schizophrenic... and so am I."
-Bill Murray as 'Bob' in the movie "What About Bob?"
Yeah. That's me. At least I feel like one... and so do I.
I mean, I pose as a Financial Analyst by day. I do analysis on things like Vertebroplasty and Open Heart Surgery. I see if there's profitability in Acute Rehab and reemphasize the fact that Medi-Cal is a profitless form of business despite DSH.
And I question, is there any value in all this information? Probably. To some most likely. But to me, not really. Providing these numbers are a means to the end. You know... the root of all evel - Money. To both, the company and to me in the form of a salary. A way to afford food, gas and other necessities and evils.
And at night... I desperately try to figure out why Orion is a conflicted five year old. I try to figure out why his older brother, Gemini, is desperate to defend the name of his father from the menacing martial arts bullies. I'm on the lookout for that next great story where I can start and never finish. All this for no payoff, no financial benefit, no nothing. Nada.
How gratifying is that? To do something you love, to work your ass off on a 120 page script, all so that you can put it on the shelf for nobody to read after getting rejection letters from agents to writing competitions.
And I question, is there meaning in any of this? Am I Orion? Am I Gemini? Am I the next great story that needs to be told to anyone that will listen? I guess there could be a meaning to the toil and trouble. But what?I continue to believe this is only a temporary state of mind. You know... 'the act'... its a temporary means. Something that I'll use to get by until finally, I can do something that I'm actually passionate about.
And no, I'm not really that passionate about playing ESPN's MVP Baseball 2005 on the Xbox. But on some midnights it would seem that way. It's a great escape from all my other identities that I'm trying to hide from.
I'm talking about writing. In any form. Journals, blogs, short stories, cartoon strips, movie scripts, forum posts. Everytime I get to express myself in any of these forms it seems like hours can pass at a blink of an eye. And although nobody ever gets a glimpse of 99.9% of any of my ramblings, I feel good that it gets down on paper.
I love expression. And maybe I supress my own self-expression as much as I tell the kids to 'not be loud' or to use 'indoor voices' or to 'be quiet' when all they are doing sometimes is 'expressing' themselves. Yes, there's a line to be drawn, but sometimes that line shouldn't be so straight as we tend to make it.
Wow. That was some profound shit there wasn't it?
Okay, back to the theme sentence. You know, the subject of this Tuesday rant. Schizophrenia. Well, maybe I can't go as far as being 'clinical' so maybe I'll lower my standards and call myself a decent actor in the theater of life. A good liar? A fake? Someone without an act where the non act is really the act? I'm a Dr. Jykell during the day, and at 4:00 PM my Mr. Hyde is desperately trying to show himself. But can't because he's too mentally tired from being prim and proper.
Damn, this sucks. Your id butting heads with itself. You know because of the schizo thing I have multiple ids. I kid. A joke. Id. HA! Ahem...
You know what I mean. A baby is hungry, the id wants to eat. The baby feels left out, the id wants attention. Well, THE HUNGRY HUNGRY SCREENWRITER FEELS FRUSTRATED... THE ID WANTS TO BE A FULL TIME WRITER.
Okay, don't school me on the id and ego and superego... I know the flow, the progression, the structural model. It was only a joke so don't take id so seriously. HA! I kill myself sometimes.
Why can't I find that focus. You know, like Daniel-san in "Karate Kid". That way I can have balance.
Tuesday's, after a long weekend, sucks. My boss should have never given me a Friday before a long weekend off. Well, yes, he should because four day weekends are the bomb and a half. But that's not good for my motivation to continue this act.
But there's light at the end of the tunnel. There's a sunrise after every sunset. What goes up must come down. Whatever will be will be and any other cliche you want to say... I will be 38 on Saturday. And I'll sell a script, get an agent and produce a feature by the time I turn 39. That's my goal.
Why? Because 38 is 3+8=11. Because 11 is 1+1 =2. Because 2 is Jacob's tee ball jersey number. And this will give me luck! See... there's meaning in everything.
There's hope. I mean, look at my hair.
Just when I thought it would never be the way it should.
It's coming to the point where I can look at the mirror with two thumbs up and say... "Aaaaaaaay!"
Hey, I just realized there are some film/tv references in this Tuesday Rant. Intentional and non. 10 points each if you can find em! :)
1 comment:
Wow. If I had won powerball I would have purchased you a camera. My sister was Schizophrenic, one time she called me & my caller ID exploded.
Okay, so that just isn't right and it isn't original. There are quite a few movie/tv references and I will pick the obvious one: The quote from What About Bob.
Oh and your day job sounds like fun, if you like and are qualified for that sort of thing. :O)
Post a Comment