Smell the roses. Damn the man.

I get up this morning.  I sit at the computer.  I begin to work on my rewrite.  My rewriting process is probably quite normal.  After I finish with a screenplay I sit down with a big purple pen and just mark it up with new dialogue, big red Xs, and just write and rewrite away.  That process takes a few weeks.  If I wasn’t working too much and dealing with divorce and custody and cars breaking down and dogs pooping on the floor and falling behind on television shows all the time, I probably would have that time frame down to a few days or so.

Once I finish with my purple, sometimes green pen, or maybe a red, I will begin the arduous task of typing it into final draft and making pages and pages of changes.  Slowly honing the product down to what I believe is my final draft.  And when I hit my final draft, It is suddenly the first draft again.

Today, I was working on entering my changes into the computer at about 8 am.  And then the day got away from me.  It’s really irritating.  I really hate dealing with bureaucracy.  Paperwork.  Running around doing this and that to turn in paperwork with my signature on it.  Spending HOURS collecting little scraps of paper from across the internet, various employers and such.  There is nothing more tedious and agitating.  Anything that takes my focus form my work and boils away all of my given time in any day where I have “free time”

Today, it snowballed.  To a point of mere confusion and downright grumpiness.  A near breakdown. 

I hit a point that I had to escape.  I gave up plans of writing.  There was no way I would be able to sit in this tiny apartment after slugging away at the bureaucratic bullshit that makes Sam Lowry (of Brazil) seem even more the personal hero to me.  This tiny apartment would not suit me well on a day like today.

Luckily, my woman was playing hooky this afternoon.  What better excuse to hop in the car and get the hell out of here?  With my chica snoring away in the passenger seat, I pounded the PT Cruiser down the highway at precisely 72 miles per hour until we reached our destination.

I spent the rest of the day smelling the roses.  Sometimes the rain and the fog of those places we know inside out won’t offer us the opportunity to do such a thing.  So, while wandering around a virtual mecca of consumerism I was able to lose myself in the green of the potted trees.  The sheen of the reflections on the chrome that rests high overhead catching the sunlight.  The grinding gears somewhere inside the escalators and wondering how the fuck those work.  The comfort of the theater bucket seats.  The pattern of the popcorn spilled on the floor.

Sure.  it was just another day.  But, it was a day spent unwinding the stress of living life day to day.  Taking in the beauty of the world around us is sometimes the only luxury we can have.

And now that that luxury is over.  It’s time to get back to work.

Tokyo.  Tokyo is calling.  172 days til Tokyo.

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