Working Working Working
Oct. 26th, 2011 10:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rinueI feel like I've been intellectually and creatively lazy the last couple of months, which is probably not accurate. (I've been working 50+ hours as a closed captioner, which requires a certain level of engagement, and during that time I've trained a couple of people and also been promoted after demonstrating an exceptionally high level of accuracy and content retention. I read a minimum of two newspapers a day, lead a discussion group, write copious correspondence, have submitted several manuscripts, and continue the battle to organize and/or purge the still untamed areas of the house. Plus intermittent baking experiments, learning Italian, and attendance at numerous museums/films/plays/talks. Lazy is probably not the best word to apply to all that. Still, this all feels more treading water than forward progress.*)
I should probably make an effort in November to move forward with some kind of project, whether script or book or short story or photos or music (and there's still that music video to edit, which I think I shot in February) just to stay limber. It just feels a bit strange when so much of my past body of work remains mostly unseen; I am after all legendarily bad at guessing what other people will and won't find accessible. Yet I feel a responsibility to keep producing things.
Ah well it's probably worry over nothing.
Spent more than two hours cleaning the kitchen; not sure how my parents can make it a disaster so quickly and thoroughly (although fair enough they provide me with food and resources and more free time than I'd have otherwise, and I'm not going to bitch at them for not putting cups in the dishwasher. Small price to pay. It's just that I don't remember them being this messy when I was a kid, which could just mean I didn't notice then because I had no outside frame of reference.)
Made chocolate pudding. Did bit of laundry. Wrote various thank-you notes. Took Ciro to get flu shot. Had doctor's checkup (healthy). Read book on the history of Jell-O. Mostly managed to sleep despite construction. Procured images of possible haircuts for self. (My need for a haircut is probably really what this feeling of inadequacy is about. When my hair ain't right, ain't nothing right.) Tomorrow, Ciro heads to NY for a few days for indie film producer legal bootcamp, and some visitation with friends.
Sidebar: The title of this entry reflects the fact that I find myself strongly drawn to the same word repeated three times or more in recent days: Working working working. Jumping jumping jumping. Think think think think. And and and and and and and. What what what what what what what what. This probably doesn't mean anything, and I think it's an aural attraction to rhythm rather than my tendency to loop repetitive movements when under stress. It's probably not a turn toward Dada (as if I need to drift further into Dada) although probably it is a turn toward Dada Dada Dada Dada.
I should probably make an effort in November to move forward with some kind of project, whether script or book or short story or photos or music (and there's still that music video to edit, which I think I shot in February) just to stay limber. It just feels a bit strange when so much of my past body of work remains mostly unseen; I am after all legendarily bad at guessing what other people will and won't find accessible. Yet I feel a responsibility to keep producing things.
Ah well it's probably worry over nothing.
Spent more than two hours cleaning the kitchen; not sure how my parents can make it a disaster so quickly and thoroughly (although fair enough they provide me with food and resources and more free time than I'd have otherwise, and I'm not going to bitch at them for not putting cups in the dishwasher. Small price to pay. It's just that I don't remember them being this messy when I was a kid, which could just mean I didn't notice then because I had no outside frame of reference.)
Made chocolate pudding. Did bit of laundry. Wrote various thank-you notes. Took Ciro to get flu shot. Had doctor's checkup (healthy). Read book on the history of Jell-O. Mostly managed to sleep despite construction. Procured images of possible haircuts for self. (My need for a haircut is probably really what this feeling of inadequacy is about. When my hair ain't right, ain't nothing right.) Tomorrow, Ciro heads to NY for a few days for indie film producer legal bootcamp, and some visitation with friends.
Sidebar: The title of this entry reflects the fact that I find myself strongly drawn to the same word repeated three times or more in recent days: Working working working. Jumping jumping jumping. Think think think think. And and and and and and and. What what what what what what what what. This probably doesn't mean anything, and I think it's an aural attraction to rhythm rather than my tendency to loop repetitive movements when under stress. It's probably not a turn toward Dada (as if I need to drift further into Dada) although probably it is a turn toward Dada Dada Dada Dada.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-11-01 12:25 am (UTC)Cooking is sort of like the craft project that's never done, I guess. So I try to be support staff and sweep through when I can, partly because Ciro and I both like a ton of counter space to spread out over, and kind of because since it IS the center of the house socially, if I can keep the kitchen counter clear, the whole house stays relatively together.
The other danger areas are the upstairs hall in front of the laundry room, which winds up being a storage area that blocks my door, and the pool table downstairs, which winds up getting everybody's odds and ends stacked on it. Kitchen is the most important, but if I can keep those three areas corralled, everyplace else basically takes care of itself.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-11-03 02:42 pm (UTC)Amen.