Interpol snugly fit into my earlobes as I huddle in the back room cranking out words that are quickly lost. Multiple boxes open into my sister’s birthday and a mate’s update on his recent trip and forthcoming permanent departure. The dialogue is quickly folded onto the tool bar along the bottom of the screen to flash orange occasionally when a new comment is added.
It’s raining, ever so slightly. Not enough to warrant an umbrella but enough to annoy and stain the cobbles a darker shade of garbage. I’m minutes away from wiping off the rest of today’s daylight hours by retreating into a classroom and attempt to impart my native language to a mix of receptive and ungrateful ears. I have no love of this task, especially when most of the time can be taken up with just trying to keep the class quiet long enough to say a single sentence. I don’t think they are really into either.
How could they be? A full day of school already behind them and the prospect of private classes in varying schools before they get to go home, some as late as midnight. Can’t be a fun life. And to my untrained eye it appears to have stunted them socially. A trauma that takes years to evolve out of, if at all. A trip overseas usually helps.
I have the treat of a weekend of rehearsals ahead. Two each day for Saturday and Sunday, beginning at 11am and finishing at 8pm. That doesn’t include the hour and a half travel time to and from the University. Right now I’m still looking forward to them so I better stop thinking about all the time they will chew up. I’m not complaining, it’s what I want to do.
Last night an idea came for a quiet little film about a guy attempting to adjust to his quiet little life when his life collides with a wrongfully convicted woman on the wrong end of a policeman who has made a bad choice and can’t change it. It was a funky little idea that I would love to make but chances are it would go the way of all my other ideas, disappear without a trace. Ideas come to tease you.