4:00 a.m. Woke up half an hour ago and can’t go back to
sleep. The thing is that I don’t feel sick anymore, so that’s good. But when I
woke up I got my clothes ready for my walk and was thinking, “If someone knew she
was going to die today, would she dress differently?” Seriously, I appreciate
that’s a strange question, but think about it. Some people would say yes,
because of how they want to be remembered—not wearing the most hideous shirt
they own. But others might say it doesn’t really matter because of all the
things they’ve accomplished in life. My clothes are all basic. I’m so basic I
kept a Blackberry cellphone around for three years, without service, so I could
read the clock at night, plus it woke me up to a good tune.
Speaking of accomplishing things in life, I’ve heard that if
you have a goal you are set on obtaining you should post it on your ceiling
over your bed. That way you’ll be reminded before you go to sleep and possibly
dream about it through the night, and again when you wake up. I have my dream
posted, but without my glasses or contacts I can’t read it anyway. When I look
up I see the paper and pretend I’m reading it. I’m fairly sure it has the same
impact.
The other day I told you about the letter I sent to my old
employer and how I stuffed it full of happy face stickers so when he opened it
he’d be reminded of me when they scatter? I guess it must have annoyed him—he
didn’t call. Instead of waiting for him to call, I applied to another school
district that is literally over an hour away, but we plan on moving to the
south mountains anyway. It’s closer to Sundance.
My little Nikki was kicked out of her club at school
yesterday on the playground. Apparently she kept chasing someone until the
little girl’s friend cried, so three of the friends voted her out. Anyway, I
prepared her hair for a style today she will love because it’s picture day.
With her hair prepared nicely, I advised her on finding a new group to play
with. She doesn’t need to kiss up to have friends. Still, I should have
listened better yesterday to her concerns. After all, we’re on the same team.
In school I am learning to write video games. I know, I
know—what does writing video games have to do with screenwriting, right? We had
to invent a game idea and mine is fairly incredible. Of course I had the master
of ingenuity, Cameron, help me pump out some ideas. The scripts are nearly
identical between games and film in the sense of the hardcopy posting and Blackout could be either.
I’ve made a command decision that I need to behave the way I
want my kids to behave. See, I’m a bit off—but so was my mother. In fact,
sometimes when I do something, I see her doing it. Granted I’ve never rolled my
hair in curlers, plastered a mud facial on my face, and stood at the dinner
table saying, “Yassir! Nossir!” feeling as if I had the respect of a slave. But
still, making remarks I shouldn’t make in front of my kids is wrong. You’ve
done that before, right? I don’t want my kids thinking it’s okay. Parents
shouldn’t do things they don’t want their kids to copy. That’s a simple thought
to keep in mind, and I expect it could help me with Cameron’s studies. I need
to stop “relating” to him so much and be pleasant without being his best bud. I
should just be his mentor—intelligence he can look up to, not belching and
laughing. He can always make friends that fart for fun.
I researched Asperger’s psychiatrists yesterday and I can
get Cameron the help he needs, because the doctor is excellent. He’s so
astonishing that the soonest we can get him in would be December. Wouldn’t that
be awesome to have a dating social schedule like that? Imagine, guys waiting
around for a few months in order for a spot on your agenda. Wonder if I should
plan ahead…
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