Lately I've been writing quite a lot, along with my co-writer. In the last three weeks we finished a full draft of a screenplay, which is faster than I've ever written a first draft--but it wasn't pretty, and honestly neither is the draft. Which is not to disparage it--you don't disparage a big lump of clay that vaguely resembles an elephant--it's not bad, it's too early for it to be good or bad. Unless, of course, you put it on display with other people's more finished elephants, and say it should look like an elephant--which is (of course) what we have done, submitting applications to the Film Independent and Sundance Labs. Whatever. The deadlines were helpful in softening the clay and doing the initial elephant, so maybe that is the reward in itself.
first deadline was May 1st, and the second was May 5th. Even if you
have drafted some of the materials, like artistic statements, synopses,
and cover letters, the last days before these deadlines always involve a
five and six hours sessions of revising and polishing, so by the
evening of the fifth I was pretty fried--getting home a little late to
start the prep for my annual round of "medical screenings" on the 6th.
I arrived at the hospital in my normal state--cleaned out and dehydrated--and realized we were doing an upper endoscopy
as well as the colonoscopy, and discovered that since I apparently
gagged a little on the tube the last go round, I was getting a deeper general anesthesia
this time. They found a few things in both stomach and colon to
remove--which everyone seems to take in stride, but it's not my
favorite--it makes me feel like there's some failure in the system.
Either I've been laxer in my diet, or my body is just getting old and
deteriorating--my telomeres are getting shorter or whatever. I know
it's both, though I only have control over one: I've been going with
the flow, eating meat just to be agreeable, giving in to my sugar
cravings, and not juicing and eating a ton of cabbage. The thought of
re-establishing all sorts of discipline makes me tired, especially when
my whole body is bloated from being inflated with air, and sore from
being snipped at. I stayed home from work yesterday and went today.
This afternoon at my desk I was thinking, in words, that I feel like my
life force is being sucked out of me. A few minutes later the doctor
called to say they needed to cut something out that they couldn't cut out on Tuesday, so I'll need to do it all again in a month. The thing
they are cutting is "not cancer" which means I'm at the high-class
problem end of the spectrum for being part of a demographic that is
highly susceptible to cancer, but I'm throwing myself a very tiny pity
party anyway. In two weeks I'm also having and MRI
and an x-ray to make sure that the back pain I'm having is also of the
"not cancer" variety. Let's all pray that I don't look back and wish
for tonight's problems. Count your blessings and be grateful for them,
otherwise, when there's less, you have to look back and feel like an