Professional Envy

Short shameful confession: I am a raving egomaniac under this quiet, self-effacing exterior.

I always feel as though I'm courting disaster when I admit that. Yes, Ye Olde Religion comes back with a vengeance: Pride goeth before a fall and all that. That's where most of my humility comes from, folks: deep-rooted fear of a God I no longer believe in.

I sat in Thesis class yesterday and heard great stuff said about most of my compatriots, criticism leveled at one classmate, and then for me...an absence of criticism. Which is to say, it doesn't suck.

This is not what I want to hear, dammit. I want to hear it's great. I want to hear, despite these minor detail flaws, this is fantastic. I want to get patted on the back.

This is not the first time I've felt like this in my life. I have always felt like teachers have skipped over saying anything to me because, frankly, most of the time...what was there to say? Diane clearly knew what she was doing and didn't need the attention. Next. And most of the time, that's okay. I know you've got to praise people when they start doing something right to keep them doing the right thing, and people who are already on the right track don't need it.

Sometimes the other people need it too.

I sat there listening to the praise Len heaped on a classmate of mine, whose stuff is well-written but incredibly sterile--there's not a character or a bit of story depth to be found anywhere. I keep waiting for someone--like...Len, perhaps?--to point this out, because he is always able to express my discomforts far better than I can, but Len apparently thinks this script is the bee's knees. I sit there completely dumbfounded: I don't understand, I don't get it, there is nothing of the writer in this piece, there is no there there.

Whereas I have worked really hard not only to make mine a movie I would enjoy but that other people can enjoy as well. A real wild ride, with plot and character and depth and everything...and nothing.

It is not easy to sit at your desk--particularly on weekends, particularly when your husband would like to go out to a movie that's not only been written but produced as well and you don't have time--wondering if you're completely nuts or not.

Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln...

Today I had rewrite class and went over my notes with the teacher about my old script (he loved the changes). I don't have an Act II end there either.

I attended the Graduate Screenwriting Association meeting, and it was a nightmare--I left after an hour and a half. We might have a big event coming up, we might not. I suspect not, considering a)we have no money and b)we have a selfish, split class that couldn't be bothered to put any effort into it but is more than willing to take, take, take.

(Geez. I am getting bitter. I shouldn't get behind the wheel of a computer when I'm like this.)

It took an hour to drive home, at 2:30 in the afternoon. I went to the gym anyhow, after stopping at home for a shake.

Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics

Tuesday: went to the gym, did my new expanded, intensive routine. I still ache as of Friday.

On Tuesday I also found out that I lost less than 2 pounds last week--the explanation being that I'm in the final 10-12 pounds now (I'm stopping at 130) and these are the hardest. As Darin puts it though, there just isn't as much of me to disappear anymore. This sucks, considering how much I've been exercising and not eating, dammit. Grand total so far: about 19 pounds since starting, 22 pounds from my absolute high.

Wednesday: went jogging. I didn't eat before I went and I drank water, but I still got this horrible cramp on my right side that forced me to stop and walk the rest of the way home. Any ideas on what that might be?

Thursday: I went to school.

Friday: went into the gym again, just did weights. I wasn't in the mood to spend a lot of time there.