The full moon.
And it wasn’t just me. My best buddy in Long Beach felt the same way.
This week was a bust.
When I worked in airline reservations we always knew it was a full moon because customers were absolute nut cases. I’m such a strong believer that evolutionary physiology created the human brain and influences every decision we make on a deeply emotional level. Yet when it comes to the influence of gravitational pull from a clump of dust outside my local calling plan I scoff at the notion.
But what else could explain why I’m so happy with my life while simultaneously being so out of sorts with living?
Yeah, I have a lot to do. Yes, I’m enjoying where I am, and yes the opportunities at hand are terrific.
But as I told another friend over late lunch on Thursday, I don’t feel like doing shit.
The film needed an edit to tighten it up before sending it off to Berlin, and I finally got that finished this afternoon. It still needs a lot of sound effects added, and the dialogue levels adjusted. My goal was to be totally finished with it by tomorrow afternoon before leaving the penthouse for an acting callback. Realistically I know that’s not going to happen. Even if I work on it all night tonight, the sound won’t be ready by tomorrow afternoon. I still have a couple days before the dvds must ship to Germany, and it looks like I’ll be stretching this one to the deadline.
The filmmaking online seminar is expanding in content rapidly, and all that’s missing is actually getting it together. Thursday morning I woke up determined to do that, since I wasn’t making progress on other projects, but somehow the day was shot before I got to it. So now the seminar will have to wait till next week, next weekend, the Monday after?
Next year’s movie is banging around in the attic, making itself known by tripping me on the stairs and knocking me in the head with cupboard doors, demanding I sit down and type the script revision the investor is so earnestly eager to read. Mark can even see how badly the script is behaving because he talks to me over dinner and I respond with monosyllabic grunts. I suppose you could say I’m working on it, even though there’s no visible output yet.
This calls for another bowl of ice cream. Maybe a movie streamed from Netflix.
Maybe just an early night in bed.