Still trying to figure out how I can say yes to one thing and not say no to another. For a while there I said yes to most everything, but that burned me out, so now I am more selective. This gives me more "free" time, but I also feel like I am missing out on things, which is true. I think I even felt that before, but I have more time to feel it now.
I watched a program on savants on the Science channel. They have this compulsion in their brain that they cannot turn off. I do sometimes wish I had that so I would be compelled to write and create, but I am very glad I have the ability to turn it off. An uncontrollable obsession is not something I desire...that much.
I want to take a few more classes in different things, but I am focusing myself (instead of saying limiting myself) to two things outside of work; writing and improv. Other acting is mildly on hold...or at least limited, and though I see workshops on producing and other things I would like to learn, I have to say no to them if I want to keep my sanity.
Yep. I'm complaining about wanting to do more things. In all honesty, I think this blog is an excuse to not write, which is really what the rest of life is for writers. Even for Russel T. Davies (former showrunner for the new Doctor Who). At least I'm in good company. The question for me now is: how do I up the pressure to write without overtaxing myself? That's my next lesson in self control/motivation. I am open to suggestion (and threats if necessary).
Bite size nuggets of self-helptual inspirationality.
Showing posts with label Russel T. Davies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Russel T. Davies. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
The weight of the world
I love baths. I try to take as many of them as I can. That is my time, alone to think, and read, and create...mostly just to indulge in myself, my body relaxing and my mind minding.
That's my selfish time where I dream about future stories, both my own future (Emmy acceptance speech "...thank you.") and stories I want to tell (how exactly should I beat out that episode? What image can I not separate myself from?). The bath is where the world gets sucked out of me and into the epsom salts (yes, I use them), and bubbles, just for fun (and the scent of pomegranate or cherry blossom is just a nice thing to have around sometimes).
Not sure why I'm using so many parenthesis, these words are being said whether I pretend they're supposed to be a cute secret joke or not.
I just started reading "The Writer's Tale: the Final Chapter", a dialogue between former Doctor Who showrunner Russel T Davies and writer Benjamin Cook. I am opening myself up to that same bold use of honesty. Not sure how this will change or effect my blogs, but I do know that they will be different in some way henceforth. I've just given myself permission, which is..well, just what it is.
The story I was thinking of writing while in the bathtub:
I sometimes enjoy hitting the drain when I am done with the warm water and lie there as it drains, the water lowering in the tub, my body sinking down and down, getting heavier and heavier. What struck me today, is that I've never felt that my body was getting heavier, it's just as I describe it that I think that word. In my mind, every time I do this, I feel the cold air covering more of my front and the heaviness the air brings with it as evidence (in my mind) that I am traveling through space at fantastic speed, accelerating. The weight in my body is proof for that image that I am going faster and faster, and the world is pushing by me so fast I can feel its coldness press against me, waking me up.
What I find is that it is so much harder for me to get up and out of an empty bathtub that has recently been full than it is to get out of one that was empty all along. This is my deep statement that takes me to a million different places. The weight of the world upon re-entry. It's heavy, and worth feeling from time to time.
That's my selfish time where I dream about future stories, both my own future (Emmy acceptance speech "...thank you.") and stories I want to tell (how exactly should I beat out that episode? What image can I not separate myself from?). The bath is where the world gets sucked out of me and into the epsom salts (yes, I use them), and bubbles, just for fun (and the scent of pomegranate or cherry blossom is just a nice thing to have around sometimes).
Not sure why I'm using so many parenthesis, these words are being said whether I pretend they're supposed to be a cute secret joke or not.
I just started reading "The Writer's Tale: the Final Chapter", a dialogue between former Doctor Who showrunner Russel T Davies and writer Benjamin Cook. I am opening myself up to that same bold use of honesty. Not sure how this will change or effect my blogs, but I do know that they will be different in some way henceforth. I've just given myself permission, which is..well, just what it is.
The story I was thinking of writing while in the bathtub:
I sometimes enjoy hitting the drain when I am done with the warm water and lie there as it drains, the water lowering in the tub, my body sinking down and down, getting heavier and heavier. What struck me today, is that I've never felt that my body was getting heavier, it's just as I describe it that I think that word. In my mind, every time I do this, I feel the cold air covering more of my front and the heaviness the air brings with it as evidence (in my mind) that I am traveling through space at fantastic speed, accelerating. The weight in my body is proof for that image that I am going faster and faster, and the world is pushing by me so fast I can feel its coldness press against me, waking me up.
What I find is that it is so much harder for me to get up and out of an empty bathtub that has recently been full than it is to get out of one that was empty all along. This is my deep statement that takes me to a million different places. The weight of the world upon re-entry. It's heavy, and worth feeling from time to time.
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