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This is one of those weeks when I don't have time to cook, and since I'm about to go out of town it wasn't a great idea to grocery shop for anything fresh. Which means I'm on a diet of mostly fast food and vending machine fare. My brain is slurry. I look forward to a day when I can hire someone to do things like pack me lunch and pick up my mail. (I have never purused wealth as an end in itself, but as a means to finance further projects and to retain a caretaker while I work on those projects.)
Lia gave me a Hunger Games pin, I think to compensate that the third book of the trilogy comes out while I'm on location and can't read it. In any case, it is beautiful and it looks like the pin the main character wears in the book -- which means it flies under the radar and looks pretty, unless you understand it is a sekrit code to other fans and suggests I might be able to kill my adversaries.
Emotionally exhausted. Various family drama keeps trying to intrude from multiple crew families, to which my reaction is roughly "fuck your crisis; we are trying to make a movie." (This is the general crew response. The "you" in "fuck you" is the family members.) People act like this isn't hard work, and like it somehow isn't real. It's that more than the drama that angers me. Just because my life isn't like your life doesn't mean it's less important, or a lie.
Aside from that, the costume situation is dire, and I feel terrible for James that we didn't see the future well enough to predict this when it was easy to fix. And of course it sets Ciro off into his usual "no clothes fit me and I'm freakish" litany, which is hard to deal with as both his wife and his director. When he acts like he doesn't look like a movie star, I want to shake him until his teeth rattle, but he is much bigger than me. I will have to build some kind of mech suit.
I don't know whether I'll post from set or not; I believe I have internet access, but there's a question of whether I have time. In any case, this is the last day or two when I'm free to freak out; I'm going to have to shift into Coach Taylor mode for the good of everyone. And honestly, it's about time. I've been neurotic for a year or two, and it's unpleasant and unlike me. I've been up against a wall for way too long, but I sort of have to pretend that isn't true in order to get the momentum to push away from the wall.
Atreyu, like me, has three consecutive vowels in his name. Unrelatedly, the other thing I did today was donate a small amount to Action Against Hunger, one of the more reliable sets of boots on the ground in Pakistan. A lot of people are hurting that don't deserve it, and donation has been slow because people worry it will go to corrupt government officials. AAH gets around that, if you've been looking for something.
Lia gave me a Hunger Games pin, I think to compensate that the third book of the trilogy comes out while I'm on location and can't read it. In any case, it is beautiful and it looks like the pin the main character wears in the book -- which means it flies under the radar and looks pretty, unless you understand it is a sekrit code to other fans and suggests I might be able to kill my adversaries.
Emotionally exhausted. Various family drama keeps trying to intrude from multiple crew families, to which my reaction is roughly "fuck your crisis; we are trying to make a movie." (This is the general crew response. The "you" in "fuck you" is the family members.) People act like this isn't hard work, and like it somehow isn't real. It's that more than the drama that angers me. Just because my life isn't like your life doesn't mean it's less important, or a lie.
Aside from that, the costume situation is dire, and I feel terrible for James that we didn't see the future well enough to predict this when it was easy to fix. And of course it sets Ciro off into his usual "no clothes fit me and I'm freakish" litany, which is hard to deal with as both his wife and his director. When he acts like he doesn't look like a movie star, I want to shake him until his teeth rattle, but he is much bigger than me. I will have to build some kind of mech suit.
I don't know whether I'll post from set or not; I believe I have internet access, but there's a question of whether I have time. In any case, this is the last day or two when I'm free to freak out; I'm going to have to shift into Coach Taylor mode for the good of everyone. And honestly, it's about time. I've been neurotic for a year or two, and it's unpleasant and unlike me. I've been up against a wall for way too long, but I sort of have to pretend that isn't true in order to get the momentum to push away from the wall.
Atreyu, like me, has three consecutive vowels in his name. Unrelatedly, the other thing I did today was donate a small amount to Action Against Hunger, one of the more reliable sets of boots on the ground in Pakistan. A lot of people are hurting that don't deserve it, and donation has been slow because people worry it will go to corrupt government officials. AAH gets around that, if you've been looking for something.
