chicating

which is just one of my 99 problems, but I re-watched "Morning Glory" last night--it's a cute comedy about a morning chat show, and when I watched it the first time, in say, 2011, I was so jealous of Rachel McAdams' producer character with the job that consumes her life(I have a media degree, so it wasn't *completely* nuts to imagine a sort of AU where that was my Hamiltonian "shot", even though in real life, I never really got that close. You know?)

Working that much doesn't look that good to me now--it's good to know I can get over things; I've clung onto so much.
But I don't know what it would look like if any of my current dreams came true, since I'm not quite at "Wouldn't change a thing," either, obviously.Even if that would make people closer to me happier than it would make me.

Sort of wish I had what one of my more...unreconstructed hippie mentors used to call a "heart's desire" but I guess it could be worse than being confused...I could be tearing myself up wanting a baby, on the corner of Never Likely, and Too Late Now(one of the intersections where Phoenix really does have superior wheelchair access, if you go by my life experience, sadly) and that would hurt more than this. Probably.

I watched both "Before Sunrise"(which I thought I'd seen before, but maybe my college roommate picked it and I complained a lot) but I liked it better this time. I could watch Ethan Hawke and Julie...or I thought of her as French Lisa Kudrow(Which is not intended as a diss...really do see a resemblance.) not make it for a few more hours, though it started slowly.

But then I watched "Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf?!" which may have been the quickest distance I have ever come from the "Aw, I want that!" afterglow of the last movie to "You know what? I'm good."without a crying baby covered in spit-up being involved.

It feels strange being almost the same age as George and Martha, but I don't quite feel that I am down-shifting in quite the same way--maybe I am kidding myself about that...just because some film stars and pols with money see their nineties, it definitely doesn't guarantee it for my disabled ass. But maybe that is the glass half-full of not getting to make the same solid-citizen forever choices that people more successful at being George and Martha than G & M made--maybe it keeps me young(ish) Although I don't really like it when it makes me feel like I'm still at the kids' table, either.

From my journal, actually.
http://bohemiancrip.blogspot.com/2023/09/new-poem-fixed.html

(Even in SATC, which I really did love, back when, even though I didn't write fic for it...except Carrie's trapeze lessons did sort of inspire " Such a Great Body" because I thought "What would she be like if she fell?") I never thought really that instead of...I don't know, Miranda Has A Terrible Accident mixed with some of Carrie's whimsy, I'd ever wake up feeling like the failed writer guy who broke it off via Post-It. Don't think there's one person whose heart I'm breaking, but "I'm sorry...I can't. Please don't hate me." seems to cover a fair bit of where I fit right now. Which I know I don't have time for, even if I blow off half the videoconferences and webinars, etc.

Seriously, it had been literal years since I moved very much from my e-mail box, somehow. But in trying to get organized, I discovered that the rut I'm in(Though real enough, and not fully self-inflicted, but a combination of personal and systemic factors that I'm gonna have to be pretty fucking clever to make more than a token difference against) But I am, though. Even if the last thing an already-lagging life needed was a 3+ year pause to wait out a plague--which part I have been both blessed and excellent at avoiding(Except in writing...my muses return to it copiously)--the rut, while no-bullshit real, is not as deep as I thought. Although it can be hard to get excited about a personal evolution that feels like one of those old flip-books where you have to turn the pages very fast to see the picture move, it isn't really the same picture. Close enough to be annoying, at times, perhaps, but I've done some good work, both artistically and politically, and I have worked through some of my more ancient family drama--a little disappointingly, don't really think there are any happy endings there, but it's not a wound anymore.

Expected to put out a new blog post today, but it's just too loud and I'm too distracted...pretend I'm in solidarity with the Times Reporters or something.