Life is changing again. Naturally, I’m freaked out.
Tomorrow I start a new temp gig in the story department of a New Unnamed Movie Studio. It’s totally low man on the totem pole, but in a department I’ve always wanted to be in. So many of my temp gigs land me in places I would never willingly go on my own, but that’s where the assignment funnels me to. This one was one I spotted, called in a few favors, and wrangled on my own to wiggle in there. My temp agency is stunned that I brought them my own gig, especially given the current economic climate (apparently, not a lot of temp gigs out there.)
I think the speed of which it came together (three days tops) unnerved me. Also the realization that my life will again change drastically from what I’ve been used to lately. No more 9:45am Bodyworks class on Tuesdays, no more afternoon power naps. No more creative cooking experiments for lunch. I doubt I’ll be able to hit five days at the gym anymore, though I’ll certainly try.
This is all idiotic whining, of course. The greater good is that I have a temp gig in a place I want to be in. So who cares if I don’t get to write four hours a day anymore.
I’m never ready for change, so it might as well snatch me up even if I think I’m not ready and carry me along until I get used to it.
‘Cause I was getting bored. You know it’s bad when you’re drinking tequila four nights straight (but I write much more funnier dialogue with it!) And I know I prayed somewhere in the past two weeks Um, God? Am I supposed to be doing this? If there’s somewhere else you want me to be, would you, you know, move me?
I think I was referring to writing my Purple Monkey script. But this appears to be God’s answer anyway.
I’m buckling up. Wincing, but hoping this leads to something pretty awesome. It probably won’t, it may not even last a month. But here’s hoping anyway.