These days, all I'm doing is sitting... sitting... sitting. I'm sitting so much that I managed to work this non-activity into the script I'm currently re-writing.... re-writing...re-writing: "Sitting is bad for you," a minor character says. Not to judge. No character is minor if he or she gets to talk. If he or she doesn't get to talk, I consider them non-speaking and lose no sleep over the lines they don't get to say. I stared at that line yesterday and thought, "True that. Enough with the sitting." And yet, what is the alternative for the SJG? Standing? Standing is better for you, unless you stand so much that your feet hurt and your entire body rebels, in which case you sit down again and look what just happened there. You're back to where you started. But something positive has come from all this sitting. I've come up with an exciting assortment of "sitting is bad for you" discount merchandise.
Rather than rewrite my rewrite, I'm sitting on my butt, thinking up how to market my anti-sitting stance. I realize it might not sit well with the chair makers of the world. But I might bring the mattress makers around. "Sitting is bad for you. So lie down and sleep already. Dreaming is better." I could market my "sitting is bad for you" philosophy to the shoe makers of the world, too. "Stop sitting, you lazy bitch. Put on some nice shoes and walk around." I know, I know. It's not quite there. But I'm 44 percent positive I'm onto something here. Maybe there's an edgy TV series on the horizon. "Sitting Bad." A humble blogger/sporadically employed TV writer gets tired of sitting, stands up, infuses her kugel with illegal substances and.... Okay fine, it's not quite there yet. Still, I could be sitting on a pile of money. I could be sitting on a dream. Maybe all this sitting is good for me, after all. Did I ever think of that?
I'm a writer: TV movies, plays, humor blogs. I'm the mother of two amazing sons, so menschy I could weep with pride, and often do, spontaneously. I'm a remarkably loving wife. I'm a kugel-maker. I'm a champion kvetch. At this point, everything hurts.