Friday, October 28, 2011

The Restlessness Before the Storm

In the musical Nine there is a song called "My Husband Makes Movies." It has been playing on a loop in my head all week long. Weeks like this make me love my wife all the more. Weeks like these make me appreciate her so much more. Weeks like these make me feel sorry for her.

My husband makes movies.
To make them he lives a kind of dream.

I don't sleep well during production. My brain, which is often a constant playground for thoughts, ideas, scenes, characters, and dialog, absolutely refuses to shut off. I lay in bed, wanting to sleep, but story boarding next weekend's scenes instead.

Some men catch fish, some men tie flies,
Some earn their living baking bread.
My husband, he goes a little crazy
Making movies instead.

The lack of sleep makes me cynical -- which, for the project is okay. The Ruffians is a very cynical and judgmental look at the world around me. It's less okay in my day-to-day life. People annoy me. Society frustrates me. I snap at people. And the lack of sleep makes me a little less guarded and I show me true emotions a little too often, a little too raw. I find myself wanting to lock myself in my car and scream at the top of my lungs, just to see what emotions come out and see what the root of my frustration is.

My husband makes movies.
To make them, he makes himself obsessed.
He goes for weeks on end without a bit of rest,
No other way can he achieve his level best.

I often find myself envious of people who can just go home and do nothing. I wonder what it must be like to get off work, eat dinner, and then relax. Because I don't. I can't. My brain won't let me. I look to the day with equal portions of excitement and fear when my brain relaxes and allows life to happen without trying to make sense of it in a bigger context, or reap interesting nuggets out of it for the current or next script.

Some men read books, some shine their shoes.
Some retire early when they've seen the evening news.
My husband only rarely comes to bed,
My husband makes movies instead.

It's torture, to be sure. But I wouldn't trade it for anything.

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