Just 'cause you feel like ranting on a Saturday morning

Sometimes, there just aren't enough characters available in a Facebook status or tweet.

Here's what's been happening since September:

I got a job.  And then, I got 3 jobs.  Simultaneously.

The stop-mo short that I've been working on (and off) for four years got a grant.  So since March, I've been shuttling back and forth between here and the center of the Canadian universe, sleep-deprived, cranky, anxiety-ridden are probably a little fatter because of all the takeout I've been eating.  Yup, it's at that stage where it's more cost-effective to pay someone to cook for me than to actually cook for myself.  Because by the time I factor in the transportation time, cooking time, waiting time ... when I could just be working.  I don't know how people regularly eat out every day for almost all three meals.  After a while, you get bogged down by the constant decision-making and guilt over choosing the deep-fried Asian food options.  Part of you chooses the things you won't make at home, and part of you really just wants ... vegetables.

A colleague heard me coughing and saw me leave the room yesterday.  He asked if I was alright.  I said that I was fine thanks, and why?  Apparently, that is the same cough that his wife had when she had morning sickness.  I said, "I'm not pregnant, I'm just getting fat."  He wasn't alluding to any sort of weight gain, but I thought I'd point it out as my quickest response, instead of my usual, "I am NOT spawning offspring at the moment."

The thing about blog posts is that people just really hate to hear about the 9-5 grind.  In my case, it's been a 7 a.m. - 12:00 a.m. grind.  And no one wants to hear about that, because it entails lots of whining, lots of sentences that make no sense at all because of your stupor.  And when you take on projects that take more energy than required, you get WICKED cranky.  Crankier, in fact, because the project you love only pays you in love and instant gratification when you see your work in all its glory on screen.  Until your director cuts it, explains to you that you shouldn't fall in love with a prop, at which point, you pretty well want to throw a tantrum and tell him that it took four hours to make that.  Or the giant set that took you pretty much four years and all of last fall to paint ... which comes out lit for night-time.  So when you're done exploding in your head, you compromise and say that you'll use it in the credits.  Lit for day time.  And that solves that.

We are near delivery and on the home stretch.  I don't have time to keep writing.  I have cost report stuff to do.