Portrait Of The PostGrad In The Last Week

You know that hand in is a week away when:

1) You nearly make a pot of coffee - with cat food.

2) Even with no childcare to sort out, you'd rather watch X Factor and eat Minstrels than go out.

3) You revert to finger food, thus avoiding the need to co-ordinate both knife and fork.

4) When you can be bothered to cook, you cook twice as much as needed, thus avoiding the need to cook again.

5) You realise that Hula Hoops are a great substitute for any form of potato/rice/pasta.

6) You find yourelf wondering if introducing a cat called 'Jack Sparrow' into a script might be a good idea.

7) Owning your own thermal heat binder seems like a good idea.

8) You buy acryllic paints and canvases and decide you might become an artist instead - if you knew what to paint.

9) You go out wearing jeans and a hoody - confused as to why the rest of the world are wandering round in shorts and summer clothes.

10) Sleep becomes a four letter word, and you realise you can't even count.

11) You seriously consider stealing a boat - whilst sober.

12) You put the same load of washing on for the 5th time, because it never gets hung to dry and smells.

13) You'd prefer to talk to a cat because they won't 'say the wrong thing'.

14) You get cross at a cat because it 'gave you a look'.



15) You start writing lists that account for your slightly irrational behaviour.

Mountain

I need to rewrite and restructure, again.

It's like standing at the bottom of a mountain, again.

Feel scared and daunted, again.


Actually, feels a bit better to have written that and realise that I should actually stop faffing about and just get on with it.
Again.

Dreaming

Many people apologise to their blogs and I've never quite understood it. But in full knowledge that I've sadly neglected this blog... here is my apology.

It's not willful neglect - just a sign of the times. Dead lines Add to that a move, 180 degree shift in personal circumstances and the insidious return of anaemia and I guess there's some kind of rhyme and reason going on.

So I'm currently sleep deprived and floating about in the middle of Act 2. Perspective - use it or lose it? I really don't know any longer. Living, breathing and sleeping a film script has taken me to places I didn't even know existed. Got to write through the night so that Oz at least has some semblance of a summer holiday.

That 3am eternal stillness gets to be kind of addictive. Not to mention more productive. Wonder why that is? Perhaps the complete lack of distraction, save for the self induced world of online procrastination. Perhaps just the calming of thoughts around me. After all, most sensible people are tucked up in bed dreaming.

Last night though I bailed at about 2am, but as I drifted off to sleep I kind of asked for some guidance/ideas/inspiration to float by in a dream.

This morning I woke up wondering if, floating sky high in the world of archetype and collective unconscious that script writing has led me into, I might have met a part of my animus.

I'm bloody lucky if I did, because it was Jack Kerouac.

He was old, but he was gorgeous and I know that in the course of the dream the sticky bits of the script* were discussed, and sorted out. If only I could fully remember just what happened...

I've always had pretty vivid dreams, often the kind where I get to read books and know if I can 'bring it back' it will be something pretty special. Sometimes it works, but only in fragments.

Last night Jack Kerouac agreed to be in the film. He was a bit of an old time Rat Pack crooner, there in my dreamworld with another iconic male figure. Can't remember who that was, but Jack is still totally vivid.

It's all so vivid that I had to get it down on the page somewhere. There are clues within clues within clues here.


*UPDATE

So all very excited about the dream I return to said script and...

Mr Kerouac? Are you there....