Changes coming at work. Ultimately, it’s all good, but for some reason I can’t put my finger on, I’m kind of cranky about the whole thing. I think that speaks more to my general attitude towards work these days than anything about the changes. Still, the whole week, waiting for the Wednesday morning department meeting, waiting for the team meeting after that, processing the whole thing, was more or less unpleasant. It’s about cranky time for me anyway. I’m sure that hasn’t been doing my mood any favors.
But dinner and Friday film noir at the museum with a friend was a pleasant way to top it off. I’m putting Chinatown high up on my rather short list of favorite films. Bits and pieces have been worming into my mind all weekend. It’s a fucked up, messy story, and I think it’s absolutely beautiful. Completely in love with Jack Nicholson’s character. He somehow reminds me a little of a certain one of my own characters. Bad ass detective on the outside, emotionally damaged man on the inside. And Jack was damn hot when he was young.
Yesterday was spent mostly feeling pretty down and not doing much of anything. Had dreams in which I was almost violently angry with people. No one in particular, just random dream people, and no particular situation. It was just generalized rage. Because yes, I am the Hulk (I’m always angry). As a result of the emotional slump, everything else sort of slumped. Typed a page or so of a story in need of transcribing. Played lots of solitaire. Drank wine and watched some of our backlog of TV in the evening.
Today hasn’t really been any less down, but at least I’ve managed to type several more pages and avoid letting myself think about how much the story sucks. (It probably doesn’t suck. If it really sucked, I would have completely abandoned it years ago instead of continuing to rework it over a period of six years.)
And now it’s time to take my medicine and go read in bed. Because that lump of fatty tissue in my head needs creative input if it’s going to come up with any creative output.