Summer Ends

What did I accomplish this summer?

I wrote the last page of my book (now if only I could write the remaining middle pages...)
I went on vacation.
I played soccer.

What did I want to accomplish this summer?

I wanted to rekindle some wobbly friendships - didn't find time somehow.
I wanted to get a lot of work done on my book - didn't find time somehow.
I wanted to lose a chunk of weight - did that, but then I found it again.

But hey, fall is coming - and I have all kinds of activities planned. An art class, a playwriting conference, a gym membership. (Now I just have to find time to write my book and get my social situation sorted out... hmm... do I see a trend here?)

Next year, Greece! Publication of something! New projects! Just gotta get through to Christmas.

(When is too soon to start planning new year's resolutions?)

End of an Era

It is official.

I have seen a movie that is worse than Barb Wire.

Mulva: Zombie Ass Kicker is the worst movie ever made, period. Not one funny or scary moment in this supposed cult horror comedy flick. Well, one scary moment - when I realized that the whole movie was going to be like that. Worst actors, worst fake accents, worst production values. Seriously, this movie looks like a high school project with sat, fat fourtysomethings in it. The girl on the cover of the box wasn't even in the film (lucky her). Meanwhile, the actors in the film were so bad that there wasn't a single instance of a conversation in a shot. If one person spoke and then another person spoke, they had to cut to a different camera shot of the second person speaking so they could (presumably) shout the actors lines at them in the space between.

And I like bad movies. The only good thing about watching it was that I can now honestly say that Barb Wire isn't the worst movie I've ever seen. That's got to be a useful conversation piece at some point.

Sigh.

The artist's life

“And it’s not only beauty and beautiful things. In a flicker of sunlight on a blank wall, or a reach of muddy pavement, or smoke from an engine at night, there’s a sudden significance and importance and inspiration that makes the breath stop with a gulp of certainty and happiness. It’s not that the wall or the smoke seem important for anything or suddenly reveal any general statement, or are suddenly seen to be good or beautiful in themselves – only that for you they’re perfect and unique. It’s like being in love with a person… I suppose my occupation is being in love with the universe.” - Rupert Brooke

What's your deal?

Dinner with the sister

Tonight we had my sister over for dinner - a rare occasion since she lives in Vancouver. We barbecued on a plank and talked about everything from how great (?) the show sex in the city was to our satisfaction with our lives and the meaning of life. It was good to have a philosophical conversation for a change, and it was good to have a friendly outsider to talk to. One of my conclusions was that I don't have such conversations with my regular friend-set because it risks too many ripples in the water - we're happier just being happy. It was also good to recognize that my sister, while staying on the proper side of the Christian/non-Christian fence from my parents point of view, is practically as radical as I am on a wide array of moral and social issues. I may have railed now and again, but maybe I like the distance that my "black sheep" status grants me. I suspect I'd rather not have regular spiritual chats with my parents and extended family - a mine field my sister more frequently walks because they assume she's on their side.

Cash Money in the Desert of the Soul

Didn't have much to do at work today. But crazybirdlady had three work rumours for me to chew on. Of course, I'm never sure which to believe because about half turn out to be misunderstandings or get changed before they come about, but she was right about the company covering our premiums for benefits, it just took longer to come about than anticipated. Anyway, I wait with interest to see what happens.

At lunch I mailed the revised script for "Romeo and Hamlet" to another contest. I guess after getting a terse rejection letter from a pro company in Toronto its kind of in the realm of "getting back on the horse". When I was younger I decided at one point to train myself on rejection. I was going to mail out a bunch of writing, ask girls out, try out for stuff. Well, I ended up getting a really bit part in a play, and the first girl I was going to ask out was waffling and I got scared she'd say yes, and I was more lazy than dejected about the writing stuff I guess... anyway it never really went anywhere. I was always doing things like that - setting out on some crazy extreme thing like 'How long can I go without speaking?' except they were always impractical in some way or I chickened out or something. Never went anywhere I guess. But I still cling to my saying of those days (poached from Oliver Stone's Wild Palms) "Everything Must Go".