Not Dead...Yet

Friday...who can remember that long ago? Lessee...I went running in the morning and then spent an hour using Thompson's Water Seal on half of our front deck. (Only half, because then the water seal ran out and I had to go buy some more, at which point it was way too hot to be doing anything as silly as swabbing a deck.) I took myself to a movie (Masterminds--it sucked, but it was fun) and then Nancy and Fernando came over and we walked to Il Tiramisu for dinner. I love that restaurant, by the way--they can do no wrong.

Darin and Fernando went out on Saturday (the 23rd) and found Civilization II. I think Darin and I have been playing it virtually nonstop ever since. It's intoxicating at first because you explore, you find the lay of the land, and you find goodies that become money, technology, warriors, or even new towns. (They can also become barbarians and wail on you. I'll tell you a little secret: if I don't get what I want from the little goodie when I open it, I revert to the previous save and open it again. I have no shame. In fact, I want to use Resourcerer to alter the game so that Command-R means "Revert," not "Retire.")

Civ II is one reason I haven't felt like writing. If the computer's up and I'm typing, I'm exploring.

The other reason is I've fallen into kind of a funk. Part of it is thinking about all the things said in my reviews by fellow journalers. Part of it is thinking about school starting tomorrow.

Greg wrote me mail this morning, saying Hi and What's up? He got back something approximating the transcript of a session with a therapist. (Speaking of transcripts, he's working on the transcripts of the hearing he testified at a month ago.)

I don't live much in the present. I am always thinking about the future, about what will be, what can be, what should be. I am a big should-er. This cuts down a lot on the fun of doing stuff, because there's always the question of "What is this for?" and "What if it isn't any good?" Greg's response to that: "Yeah? So what if it isn't?"

Well, if my screenwriting isn't any good, then I've kind of screwed up Darin's and my lives for no good reason, eh?

Yes, I know: Darin's a big boy, he didn't have to move down here, he could have told me that he thought my pursuing this is a completely unrealistic pipe-dream and I'm wasting my time. In fact, if there is anyone were going to tell me this, it would be him. Darin Adler: not known for mincing words. He hasn't said anything like that; in fact, he's been ridiculously supportive and helpful and enthusiastic.

It has been pointed out to me (yay! a passive construction) on many occasions that fear of failure is a good way to invite failure. It's also a good way to avoid responsibility. "You see? I told you so. There was nothing I could have done."

Let's see. What am I frightened about? This year I have to write my thesis script, the script that proves to USC that I've written a decent screenplay and deserve to receive a Master of Fine Arts degree. Brooke told us all to know what we want to write about for our theses by the time school starts in fall, because you don't want to fuck around, you want to get to it.

Well, currently I feel like a deer in the headlights: what am I going to pitch in thesis class in two days? No, not that, that's stupid...Oh my God, Diane, you've been thinking about that forever and never done anything with it, give it up...No, not that, that's fluff.

And so on.

I'm also thinking past the end of the year. Big scariness and blackness that one. I might spend the next ten years getting thisclose and never get anywhere. (That precise scenario has happened to a friend of mine.) Go ahead, quote to me about how the most important ingredient of success is not talent but persistence. I know.

I just don't do well with failing. I think that's why I've arranged my entire life so that failure is not an option. What this usually has meant is that I've taken the safe route and not taken many, if any, risks.

I'm getting really tired of being scared.

Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics

Lessee: I did 3 miles this morning, 3 miles on Sunday, and 3 on Friday. But I haven't felt really great about any of them. Perhaps it's just allergy season (which may explain why I have this box of tissues tied to my wrist) and that's why I can't breathe and I can't do the 3 miles straight without stopping. Or maybe I'm just a big tub.