doubt sucks

There are people out there who likely get a rush from the unknown.

I am not one of those people.

I much prefer to have an idea of what's going on (and why), and what's likely to come next (and why), and what to look forward to and what to fear (and in both cases, why).

And today I seem poised on the cusp of a great many unknowns, and it's all just making my ass hurt.

Nicholl Fellowship? Well, I somehow made the quarter-finals (with the exact same script which dinked in the first round the previous two years), but now sit here unsure as I hear that the semi-finalists are being notified (and dinkable quarter-finalists are being quarter-dinked).

Austin Film Fest contest? I managed a second-round advance each of the past two years, and announcements are apparently en route to alert this year's advancers and dinksters, but for now I sit here wondering.

LILYA? Somehow I managed to get that script in to fancy-pants types at a major prodco and major agency (both in surprisingly easy fashion), but I'm in that awkward phase now where it's still a little early to call and annoy but increasingly aggravating to sit and know nothing.

Oft-reffed online project? Sometimes it seems like we're already almost achieved orbital velocity, and then other times it feels like the countdown has again been delayed and we're sealed in the capsule like Gordo Cooper, anxious unsure and badly needing to pee.

Horror-comedy? Finished the first draft earlier in the summer, but then Life Got Seriously Crazy and I've had almost no real time to work on it since, so now it feels almost like someone else's script project—I'll need to do a page-one read-through just to remember what the hell I wrote.

Western-horror? Had some momentum once upon a time, and vaguely recall thinking I saw a path through the wilderness, but now have no clear idea of how to steer that thing between the Scylla of the Spaghetti Western form and the Charybdis of the monster movie form. Suffice to say "there are structural incompatibilities yet to be resolved." In other words, I don't know what I am doing.

A slew of good friends have suddenly gone aloof and distant, and I'm suddenly wondering if I perhaps need to step up the the 48-hour protection of maximum strength Mitchum.

Son's football team suddenly seems headed up by adult-sized 13 year old boys who lack the skill and interest to communicate with full-grown humans.

The school lost the year's worth of schedule requests for the gym use by our Cub Scout pack, so we may or may not actually have a place for our monthly pack meetings.

Six weeks ago I pulled a muscle in my right elbow during a trivial bit of labor and the damned thing has not stopped hurting yet, and I fear there might be some actual issue there (no—really).

In short, there's just a butt-load of issues out there in totally unresolved states, and it's all starting to frustrate me badly, as I feel stuck in a bit of a holding pattern until some of these things start to clarify and congeal and coagulate.

[insert whine here]

Doubt just sucks.
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