WEARY WORKING SUNDAY
Sunday, January 15, 2023
Today I offer a Friday date-night movie recap, at the end of a short column, because my mind will no doubt be mushy as I grind through Sunday’s work, so here you go – enjoy! … and thanks to readers who sent me feedback on my Saturday request for comments -
I’m expecting to wake and begin Sunday’s tasks shortly after a computer somewhere spins this column out to my mailing list – and I’m feeling long-week-weary, slightly damaged goods, so it’s a hinge day for sure …
Sundays are multi-faceted days; we can see them as the end of the week or the start of the next one – the hinge on a door or a squeaky gate that needs oil. We don’t feel ruined, but we are spent of energy and lethargic and want to channel surf from the couch because we have no place we must be, and we are in no hurry to get there …
We don’t feel energized from an7 wish not to be; we need today for recharging because we mustered the strength and resolve, so we can’t do it all again tomorrow.
Weary mornings, as yesterday was for any wishing not to be recharged, the body wants to sleep, but that's not an option when the work beckons in two ways (that which must be done and those activities I would never miss because they mean so much) – the dotted line between sections of the folded page, or hinge on that gate in need of oil or a new spring for its antiquated hinge mechanism. You know the kind I mean, don’t you, when you go through that gate, it swings back to its closed position because there is a spring mechanism that’s spring has been stretched many times, so it brings the gate back into place, but slowly – hot summer day slowly …
The return to centeredness – the equilibrium between chaotic life and charmed life, sometimes for only a moment, sometimes to maintain momentum – but today for head-clearing and focus, for getting the 2023 machine oiled and ticking as I’ve been planning so hard, for launching enough bits of it that it feels like executing a plan rather than the spurts of trying to start an old weary lawnmower that won’t start until the fifth pull of the cord. Not about the need for a tune-up or sparkplug replacement – but not about replacement either. Here we go, one more pull, the kind that tests both patience and rotator cuff ~ that will be me today, as I was yesterday, not damaged goods for worn out, but firing like an excellent old two-stroke engine because of that last pull on the cord.
P.S.: a note on our Friday date night movie choice, not a review but a recommendation. I’d read several bits about what an extraordinary performance this was by Brendan Fraser. Sorry, you’ll need an order-of-magnitude exaggeration of remarkable to capture what he has done. Its minor technical shortcomings are readily accepted, and the ensemble cast and minimal scene changes for this play were adapted with changes when made into a movie. I recommend NOT reading up on the story, the plot or reading reviews (I’ve read several after having seen the movie, and I endorse the glowing accolades). If you see no other film this year, see Whale. You’ll likely find, as we did, a mostly empty theatre. Still, the movie houses expect the nominations to be announced on January 24th, and Brendan Fraser will surely be among the nominees for best actor. When winners are announced on March 12th, I have no doubt everyone who sees this film will expect him to be a sure-fire winner. Whether or not that happens is movie-biz politics, but as a lifelong movie lover, his performance is the best I’ve ever seen. I’m not exaggerating, and the message of the play-come-movie is the kind that leaves you stuck in your seat long after the credits roll, and you’ll talk about it for days. It won’t change your life, but it will change some aspects of life and people. The meaning of it to me, aside from excellent guidance for any writer, is the insights into life playing out.