When I started blogging again, it came from a wont to document the ins and outs of pregnancy but there were other reasons, too. There had been an underlying urge to reignite some kind of creativity for a while. I just didn’t know what that would be, or how I was going to do it. I don’t know quite why the urge took me when it did. It’s hard to pick the most prevalent reason but if I had to choose I’d whittle it down to maybe three.
November is a pretty significant one for me this year. Permit me, for a second, to discount the horrific shit-abyss into which this year has descended and focus on some positives. Firstly it was my mum’s 60th birthday. Secondly, my girl Bee celebrated her one year anniversary and a year since I got to stand up with her while she became a Mrs. It’s my last full month at work until halfway into next year and the last full month before I become a mum.
It’s also *gulp* the last month of my twenties.
Black Mirror made its return on October 21st, with a new series double the length of its predecessors and big, shiny Netflix budget to fund it. For the uninitiated, it’s the brainchild of satirist, malcontent and silver fox Charlie Brooker, and explores a future not too removed or dissimilar to our own: one where technology, and our reliance on it, has made everything that little bit darker. It’s science fiction, but not so outlandish that it feels unimaginable. It has an almost prophetic feel to it, and that’s where its danger has always been. Who would’ve thought that, some years after its debut episode, the Prime Minister would be accused of getting his jollies from a dead pig?
I feel like I say this every month but October has COMPLETELY disappeared from under my nose. A six day week, 8pm finishes and home renovation put a dent in my written output for the week, and before I realised it we’re more than halfway through the month. No time like the present, then- I had a film-based post planned for last week but just about scrabbled together a weekly progress one so hey, I’ll double up next week. Maybe.
Getting back to business, my first resurrected foray into film writing definitely gave me some pause for thought. Reading it back, I don’t love what I wrote, but that’s expected. I’m out of shape. My analytical skills aren’t honed by hours of box set binges and symbolic code-breaking. There’s no better way to get back in the habit than practice though, right? Well, practice and scouring other film blogs for inspiration. My chosen focus this week was already a no-brainer. It was practically a gift.
At the end of this week Ally and I are making a rare jaunt through to the capital to see the one and only John Carpenter in concert. Carpenter has either written or co-written the score to every film he’s made, and has decided it’s time to tour them. He’s also released two albums of non-film scores and we have them on vinyl, so I have both a fairly good idea and no idea what to expect.
Since crashing into my third trimester, I’ve actually started to feel… well, pregnant. It sounds stupid, I know- like I haven’t known I am the whole time. I just feel like there’s been a marked change in how I look and feel. The last couple of weeks have seen some particularly significant growth. When I look down, my feet have all but disappeared. In the last two weeks alone my bump seems to have grown significantly. Even Ally commented that it looked like it had grown in the last week- and he’s the last person who’d think to make a comment on my size (for his own wellbeing and, well, because he’s not a tool).