Crash, burn, learn, or fly? Taking on Terrible Tuesdays

Tuesdays have always been my unlucky day of the week. Mondays could be awful but you expected that. Tuesdays was usually when all hell broke loose. By Wednesday most people give up and break out the beers, or other vice, if they didn’t already foolishly do that Monday. In Cape Town Wednesday is called Kleinvrydag – Small Friday. Then again, Tuesdays are Tequila Tuesdays and Thursdays are phuza Thursdays. And Fridays and Saturdays are also phuza. Actually South Africans are pretty big on the phuza thing. The only nation that drinks more per capita are the Aussies – one thing they always beat us at. Well, that, and that they have even more depressing feminists. The two things may not be unrelated.

Broken telephone... what's the bet this conversation took place on a Tuesday?

Turns out I’m not alone on the Tuesday blues. Perhaps because Tuesday alliterates perfectly with Terrible, or perhaps because this day of the week actually is cursed, musicians agree. Karma, for instance says Fear like this is only made on /Tuesday afternoon. Adam Green was losing on a Tuesday afternoon (the only day on which he wasn’t swearing it seems) and the Moody Blues ruined my entire argument by being all happy on a Tuesday Afternoon – so much for double setup and punchline, arseholes. I guess I could have used 911… That was a Tuesday.

Anyhow, Tuesdays are now the scariest days of my week. This means they’re either the best, or the worst, the day on which I feel like a complete failure, or the day when I feel like maybe, maybe, just maybe, it’s not too late for me to rise and shine. I never know which it’s going to be until I actually lie down and go to sleep. I can’t control how I feel – I’m just too new in town to know how to.

But when that Tuesday in a million works out, I feel the manic high that manic-depressives speak whistfully of, after they get medicated.
And which I deny I’ve ever felt without resorting to drugs I’d never dream of trying not even once, of course. I feel like I can fly. It’s that feeling, that nothing will ever be wrong again, that nothing ever hurt me. Tonight I cycled home in the dark so full of hope that I was singing.

On Tuesdays I have to A) Make it on time to a 10am class, which is hard when your last class finished exactly 12 hours before. My brain takes about four hours to wind down. B) And this is probably actually A), B), and C) be ready for a terrifying, exhilarating, exciting, embarrassing, humiliating, inspiring, and always productive hour one on one with Randal Kleiser, who’s helping me figure out the problems with a screenplay and solve them. He is amazing, but I have nightmares in which he just yawns, and yawns and yawns, until I cry and run out of the room. C) And this is the part that’s always awesome: watch a movie or attend a workshop for the course attached to the Randal Kleiser scholarship thing, called Industry Insiders.

I'm such a dork. A happy dork, though.

Tonight one of the reason why I was whooping while I peddled my red bike home at high speed through the rainy and shiny-black streets of Orange was that I got to watch one of my favourite childhood movies, Flight of the Navigator, on a big screen, and then get a picture taken with the director (who actually knows my name). With the model of the ship! Damn. I’m not the kind of person who has pictures of themselves taken with celebrities. Not because I don’t admire some of them, but because I don’t believe fame rubs off. But this was different. I would never have forgiven myself for missing this chance.

I think I saw this when the person at the ticket office wouldn't let my friend and I into something with an age restriction. It was awesome.

Also the screenplay I’ve been struggling with (and when I say struggling, I mean I shout at the characters: “What the FUCK you do you want, you stupid $%^&!” until they tell me) is suddenly revealing its meaning to me, thanks to the help I’ve had from James Dutcher and class, and the intensive time with Randal Kleiser. And sleepless nights. I’m nowhere near there yet; I can’t tell the story in 30 seconds, but I’m close.

I can almost touch the truth that’s in there, the way you can almost remember a dream, or how to solve a maths puzzle, or yes, I’ll say it, how to fly. I’m convinced all of us think we can when we’re born. After all, we were all weightless in the womb. We spend the rest of our lives either compromising, or finding another way.

(PS, added 10/10/10: While doing my weekly assignment for this class, I discovered that Disney – who dominated the production of the original, specially towards the second half, are remaking the movie – something the blogger who I read wasn’t happy to hear. I am not sure remakes are all bad. Shakespeare’s been remade a stack and everyone thinks that’s kinda cool. Brad Copeland (Arrested Development) is slated two rewrite a bit. But what does worry me is the potential for overuse of CGI. Give me some glue and a handpuppet anyday. How are actors supposed to talk to things that don’t even exist? Just sucks. Let’s hope Disney keep a light hand on that. But I doubt they will.)


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2 Responses to “Crash, burn, learn, or fly? Taking on Terrible Tuesdays”

  1. The Burg Says:

    Wednesdays seem to be mine…deaths, hijackings, firings…lol…im racking up quite the collection

  2. Philip Says:

    I still have dreams about that ship.

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