God, there's a lot going on at the moment.
Work-wise, there's jobs without proper briefs, impossible timelines and brain-dead servicing.
Movie-wise, there's still a camera to source, cast to be tightened down, schedules to plan and soundtracks to record.
Band-wise, there's an album to finish recording primary tracks by tomorrow, vocals to put down, overdubs and let's not forget mixing and mastering.
Life-wise, there's my girlfriends birthday, parents to apease and a little bro to teach.
Thank God I'm going to England next Thursday. The only downside to this is that I need to finish up as much as I can before going. I'm looking at my schedule till then and it's mental. So much to do, so little time, so many expectations to fulfill and failure is not an option. Not in this round of my life. I look at everything since July 1st 2003 as 'Life Ver 2.0', with new goals and beliefs.
And I will not flush it all down the toilet by breaking under pressure.
Although it'd be nice to break under pressure. I go to sleep in the wee hours knackered beyond compare, barely awake, only to discover all the caffeine I've been intaking is fucking around with my brain keeping my thought process awake. This usually leads to me opening up 'The Da Vinci Code' (which, so far, is very kickass). Then I wake up way beyond the acceptable time frame of turning up to work. Now, bear in mind that I'm a copywriter in an ad agency, and the creatives are usually expected to turn up late. I've been turning up later than usual expectations.
Eng-ga-land... Eng-ga-land... Eng-ga-land, Eng-ga-land, naaa naaaa....
I can't wait. Get all this stuff out of the way, work my buttocks off, then doze off in the plane half-way through a game of Super Mario or Tetris then wake up at Heathrow. From there it's cozy cafe's in the day, endless wandering through the streets and parties at night.
And Donnington. Musn't forget Donnington.
It may sound weird, but it's the day-to-day things that I miss, and not all of it is particularly English. Like grabbing a Reservoir Dog and Coffee n' Butterscotch milkshake at Ed's in the Trocadero. Buskers in tube stations. Having a cup of coffee in Angel and watching life walk past. Having a steak at the Wetherspoons on a Sunday afternoon.
Forbidden Planet. Denmark Street. Car boot sales.
Taking the 240 from Mill Hill to Goldersgreen. Smoking a cigar. Buying cigarettes at 3 in the morning at the petrol station. Wearing a jacket. Random conversations with unknown people in pubs. Kebabs. Chips in pita bread. Vinegar. Full Tilt. Going on the pull.
The first few days of summer when all the women go "finally! I can wear that top and skirt I bought on sale last year!" and proceed to parade the streets with once-hidden flesh.
A cup of fucking tea.
Yes. The same way New Yorkers say their pizza's and hotdogs are just different from the rest of the world, tea never tastes the same as it does in England. Tea, milk, two and a half sugars.
Till Thursday, though, it's still work work work for me. Less than a week to go. No problem... I think.
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