(Note: This is copied from The Daily B – another blog that existed during this time)
How you can tell you’re old #472…you say shit like “how is it already (insert unit of time)?
How is it already April 9? March was like a m**f** whirlwind. I think. I already don’t even remember it. Basically, I remember yesterday, and to some extent can use that to extrapolate what’s been happening for the past month.
Yesterday was April 8. My mom got on a plane and flew back to Indiana. It’s been really nice to have her in town. You also know you’re old when your parents are even older so you want to spend as much time with them as you can (without going overboard because that’s morbid). I’ve been going over to her house about once a week, which might not sound like much, but is roughly twice as often as I see my sister (who lives in town) and six times as often as I see almost any single friend who isn’t involved in a writing endeavor. Mostly I was going on Fridays after work, and we would put together some dinner, talk and watch a movie, or if the kids were staying over maybe play some Monopoly.
Also April 8 is the day Paul and I got married. In celebration of our anniversary he took yesterday off from work, and I switched up my hours and skipped writing, then, with our free time together, we went to Target, cleaned the house, had some expensive (and good) sushi, then watched TV while wearing teeth-whitening agents (bought at Target). Yep, that’s how we roll. In March I also spent some time with Paul, mostly late at night, or preparing for taxes. We’ve both been spending extra time with respective writing partners on projects, which has decreased our available hours, so yesterday, while it might seem mundane, was a treat.
At work, April 8 was the last day of “prospective student open house.” Yay for that. Nothing makes time fly by like event planning without quite enough time, and open house is one of the bigger events–a three-day logistical extravaganza of hosting a dozen or so potential students. My new co-worker handled almost all of the individual schedules and travel reimbursements and I ordered most of the food and we both tried to work our everyday duties in around the edges.
This year, April 8 fell on a Wednesday, which is generally the night that I go to my directing class, but serendipitously (for the anniversary) this week is community college spring break so class didn’t meet. But for much of February and March, I have been leaving work at the stroke of five and taking two trains to class, which is officially scheduled to last from 6pm to 10pm but thankfully always runs shorter. With the 2-train+car commute home it still manages to eat an evening.
And yesterday, April 8 was the last day before today, April 9, which is when my writing partner (Janice) should receive the last of our notes on our script, so that we can spend the weekend revising and hopefully improving our application for the Film Independent Lab which is due on Monday. I’m trying to mentally gear up for a marathon writing weekend. Switching back-and-forth between two scripts for various spring deadlines, there have been a few such weekends lately, and also a couple “vacation” days spent trying reach the finish line with drafts we can feel good about in hand.
And that, I deduce, is where March has gone.