It’s been an intense couple of days at work, making a huge number of complicated edits and writing new pieces for a big magazine we produce every quarter. I’m pretty proud of the work in this issue. I might even submit a couple of the pieces for a trade magazine writing award, not sure about that yet.
This week, I also saw a preview of a video we created for a client at my job. I wrote the script for it – my first time writing an industrial film script, and appeared briefly in it as well, that old acting degree coming in handy now and again. The video is actually pretty cool considering the shoestring budget, but I find I’m even less able to tolerate looking at myself on camera than I was 15 or so years ago when I regularly did indie film work. I’ve got one eye that doesn’t open as widely as the other now, and I look like Peter Lorre, only really fat and with bad hair. It’s awful. Just when I thought I was looking better, there’s videotape to deliver the ugly truth of things – much more to do on this journey of trying to overhaul my person and my life. I’m just about 20 pounds down from a year ago, but really need to drop 20 more, for sure. Must get on that.
Tomorrow morning, the boy and I will set out for a short road trip to Ann Arbor, to make the foodie pilgrimage to Zingerman’s. I was there very briefly several years ago, while in town for a friend’s graduation from medical school, but had nobody to share it with. Now I have this junior epicure. We have looked at Pinterest pictures of the various Zingerman’s outposts together, and he has said he wants ALL THE THINGS. We are bringing a couple of coolers, heh. We will spend the night in a hotel, which is one of his FAVORITE THINGS, EVER, and eat all of the things. This will not help in my 20 pounds quest, but it will make for a memorable Spring Break for the kid.
Travel anxiety being what it is for me, I’m obsessing over what we will do if something happens to the car and we are out of AAA range. It’s not quite crippling, my anxiety, as it doesn’t actually prevent me from doing things, but it does make it damned unpleasant for me, all the worrying. And yes, another report of a plane crash last night, and me getting on a plane in 10 days. Not that I’m counting or anything. I’m actually too nervous to even try taking the Xanax I have, afraid I will suffer some horrible allergic reaction and die alone with my son there watching. Believe me, if there is a rare and weird side effect to a drug that causes anaphylaxis, I will have it. I don’t want to even try taking it unless someone comes over and hangs out with me to make sure I’m not dying, and there isn’t really anyone to enlist for that joyous duty, so I’m not going to take it.
Note to self: go to liquor store and buy ALL OF THE TINY BOTTLES to take with me on the plane.
My leg is still so, so fucked up. It’s still swollen and I can’t bend it without pain. So no running for the foreseeable future. Must lift. If I can’t do anything else, at least I could lift. I wonder if they’ll make a stink if I bring the kid into the gym at the hotel. I’ve been thrown out of worse places.
I’m refocusing. Shedding friendships that are one-sided or which lack substance, acceptance or quality. Seeking additional connection with those who value me, who like me, who accept me. Trying to offer more help and advice to those I think who might need it. Deepening connections and allowing myself to ask for help from others. Tuning up. Homing in.