Thursday, April 12, 2007
Maaaaate. We need to taaaaalk.
(Sunflower battling pollution and building waste from the new condos next door, which someone planted in the planter box in the parking perimeter)
It's coming up to 10 May in a few weeks and the office is a flurry of activity. Panini and I are the only admin staff at the moment, joined occasionally by Pacheye, and Sasiwasi who rocks in after brunch for a spot of editing. Hubby Boo and Sheshima are off in Bangkok on the Brave shoot, suffering 40 degree heat whilst running around looking thrilling for the action movie.
Actually in reality Panini is flurrying and I'm supposed to be helping, but...
Hydrogen Helium Lithium Berrillium BORON Carbon Nitrogen Oxygen Fluorine NEON...
I can't concentrate. I can't seem to get into it, though I'm plodding along. The excitement of seeing the movie finally come out is intertwined with a mental restlessness that I'm trying to quell with conversation and reading. I've read two Kinsella books in a row and though pleasing were thoroughly unsatisfying in that they just seem to skim the surface of their content: relationships. Been getting hints from the universe that it's time to stop doddling and get on with what I say I want to do.
Firstly I've been moaning about wanting to write a script, then I made a new year's resolution to do so this year. Then I've been chronically affected by what I would call writer's block if I truly believed that it was. More like procrastination and metal laziness. Then I get compliments on my blog and have people like Na'a de Coco, Pea and Pingky urging me to write a play, a script, a chicklit novel. And finally I bump into someone who demands to know why I haven't yet delivered on my public promise to myself to write a book (almost 7 years ago now).
It is time. Must. Stop. Fighting. Must. Reach. For. Goal. Gosh, that's a tiring thought.
I'm not feeling grounded. Though I am excited about the prospect of writing, I seem to be finding reasons not to just start. Reasons like, what will I write? A script, a book? Or what will I write about? I think I know the answer to that, but I can't seem to decide on the tone I want to take. Frivolous and digestible? Deep and meaningful? There was a time when I would just sit and write and see what came out. Sometimes diamonds, sometimes mud. I guess I keep telling myself that time is a luxury I don't have. And yet I feel like I am wasting my time doing everything but write.
I have always believed that you have to ask for what you want, and you will get it. I also believe that in order to ask for what you want, you have to be grateful for what you already have in order to make the asking work. I think I'm not asking properly. Or I'm too dissatisfied to be open to the opportunity.
Time to go to work....