Fancypants


Tempering: sure it involves being heated white hot and then hammered against an anvil; over and over again- but it does make for some damn good steel.

Tempering: sure it involves being heated white hot and then hammered against an anvil; over and over again- but it does make for some damn good steel.

I had this vague idea, when I went out for my run today, that I would spend the time thinking about ideas for a script entitled “Fancypants”. This plan didn’t work out. This is hardly surprising, since one of the more pleasant side effects of going for a run is having my brain shut off for a while.

I am resolved to do a film called “Fancypants”. So far I just have the title; I don’t know what it is about. It feels like a comedy. That’s all I know. I’m not really sure where this impulse to be creative is coming from, considering that it is taking nearly all my wits just to stay organized and on top of all the paperwork that I need to prepare for the production that I am actually working on at the moment.

At the same time, I know better than to repress the urge to be creative when it strikes: it’s like dropping a Mentos into a bottle of cola and then sealing the cap: better to focus it and relieve the pressure. Besides, the urge to be creative is a good sign. It means that I’m organized enough that my brain feels comfortable escaping into fantasy for a while without returning to reality to be completely overwhelmed by the sheer amount of work hanging over my head. It is a rare and precious state of mind. I wish I could feel this calm-yet-determined all the time: maybe this is a state that one can learn how to maintain with practice. I certainly hope so.

Which is what I spent most of my run thinking about instead of thinking up a genius concept for “Fancypants”. I realized that the biggest difference between my life in my thirties and my life in my twenties was a sense of  assurance that I could handle more stuff. I realize “stuff” is not the most concise term in my vocabulary, but it has the right sense of broadness for the actual situations, problems, stresses, and opportunities that I might potentially need reassurance in handling. I suppose that this is what “experience” really means. I certainly hope so, since it means that by the time I’m in my forties I’ll be exponentially better at handling stuff than I am right now.

Just recognizing this assurance is reassuring. I wish I could describe what it is like to people who are struggling through their twenties like my youngest sister and some of my classmates. I don’t suppose that they would believe me if I told them or that I would even have the capacity to put it into words (You’ll be way better at doing stuff!) but I can’t fight the impulse to share the news that life gets better.

So on that note I ought to wrap things up for the evening. It was a good day. Maybe tomorrow I will figure out what “Fancypants” is all about.

 

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~ by Gwydhar Gebien on August 29, 2014.

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