It seems like I do nothing and still feel lazy and uninspired at the end of the day. Why would I feel that way when I have a full time job that wakes me up at 7am and puts me to bed at the crack of midnight. My work hours are not unlike any others. My commute time is probably better than most. What’s the problem here?
My zodiac sign has two fishes swimming in the opposite direction; I’d heard it described that way by Billy Corgan on Charlie Rose once. Sometimes I think I remember too many trivias than my brain has signed up to carry. I’ll have instant recall on these thousands of bits and pieces of information that few find of any value unless it’s seen as entertainment. What has retention of all those information done for me? Yet, the funny thing is, I sometimes blank out on the most obvious. Just a couple of minutes I could not remember who the lead singer of Smashing Pumpkins was. I had to Google it. Good thing I did because I learned for the first time the band was from Chicago. And to make an emonome out of it…I’ve recently been to Chicago, Corgan’s birthday was yesterday, both he and I wear a lot of black, and Charlie Rose has a black eye.
Every night I return home and find an excuse not to do any work. I’ve been planning on writing that script series for a month now. But I’m already at a stage where I’m trying to convince myself that I’ve not been because the idea isn’t, perhaps, that good in the first place. Such load of shit. It’s a good idea. Couple of people have told me so.
Maybe there is the problem. I shouldn’t have talked about the idea. I should’ve written it. Then talked about it. It’s not about jinxing it. It’s about telling myself – “Oh good, a good idea it is – now I can rest for a few weeks because I’ve accomplished so much by coming up with a fucking idea.” Ideas grow on trees. They’re found on the streets and in garbage cans. When someone sneezes on you in the subway, you’re sprayed with an idea. When you look away from someone, there’s an idea burning to be cooked.
But ideas mean shit. Which is why you can’t copyright them. I wish one could. Then the shitty ones would’ve been taken and we’d have to force ourselves to be more original. Wonder why a lot of TV shows fail? Cuz some genius at the marketing department is coming up with blurbs like “HOUSE on stilletos’ to describe the new Julianna Margulies show. Hey, what if I hate HOUSE? Now you’ve ruined any chance of me giving this show a try. I know, I know…how else would people know what type of show this is. Fuck you!
I digress. :) I can’t even focus on a fucking blog post. How am I expected to manage my time? How did I get from fishes swimming to all this? Fuck fishes…I simply need to get my shit together.
Maybe I’ll clean my room. Now that’s a perfect excuse for not being able to write for another couple of days. Kiss my brown ass, movie script!!