This…Is Probably A Bad Sign

For the past several weeks, in the dark of night, I’ll lie there and wonder if it’s normal for the human eye to throb sporadically. It’s the same sensation one would experience, I imagine, if they had a very small man with an even smaller bicycle pump plugged directly into the back of their retina. Sort of like INNERSPACE, only with more sports equipment. While I realize this isn’t exactly an ironclad explanation as to my unexplained two-week absence from the blogosphere, hopefully it provides a little insight into the fact that I’ve been that special kind of stressed – the kind where you feel relatively normal, right up until you wonder if you’re going to be saddled with an eyepatch.

Granted, my past few weeks haven’t all been an ocular coup. The long weekend was my chance to be Chels’ plus one at my first-ever lesbian jewish wedding – an event that threatens to eclipse both Canadian Europe and China as my most culturally significant moment this year. It also gave us a chance to check out Canadian New York’s Titanic exhibit, which is housed in a science center that’s as a testament to one architect’s passion for “corduroy cement.” Leaving with a newfound hatred for the sea and a sudden desire to find suitably heroic last words, it was back to Montreal to work on a treatment and plug away at the day job. And, apparently, to stress out.

While I can’t say too much about what – exactly – is going on here on set, I can tell you that we have built some of the most beautiful structures I’ve ever seen, rigged them with explosives and then reduced them to clouds of dust. It’s sad to them go, but I take consolation in the fact that I’ll carry the sets with me always – in my memories, and in my lungs. Whoops – the eye’s telling me it’s time to get back to work…