The lick


Well, I can’t write shit. Staring at the blank page of the 345th screenplay I started this year, I’m stuck again. I’m stuck because I can’t concentrate. I’m stuck because there’s a nagging devil sitting on my shoulder and whispering in my ear: “Go on , forget it. What’s the point, anyway?”

Is he right? Is the little motherfucker right?

For a long, long time, I’ve wanted to travel. To the United States, especially. I was always drawn there, maybe because I grew up on American culture as much as Israely culture, or maybe because it’s where most movies are made, and as an aspiring movie-maker and a total movie buff, I wanted to be there.

I’ve always had this feeling of “a man with no roots”. Moving a lot, never staying too long in one place, I had a nomadic childhood, and never could really say where I was from. I’m a little from here and a little from there. Maybe that’s why I’ve never really felt I belonged anywhere. Maybe that’s why, for years, I think about The World when I think of what I want to do, and maybe that’s why I’m writing this blog in english in the first place.

But somewhere along the way I forgot what I wanted to do. Yeah, I want to take a vacation, I NEED a vacation, but I also want to live somewhere else for a while, see different places, meet different people, and I also want to write films, to make films, and I want and I want and I want… At some point, it all got mixed up, and I wasn’t sure anymore what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go.

I was in Los Angeles in the summer of 1998. It was one of the great experiences of my life, but also one of the most frustrating. Because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, it was a strange mix of travelling and finding work. At the end I got a little home sick and went back to ma and pa (although I wouldn’t have admitted it back then), but something always remained unresolved.

And now I’m afraid of doing the same mistake. Of mixing it up, of not knowing what I want to do. I want to do it differently, but I’m not sure how. I knew the first thing that I’ll need to have is the ability to work legally. It will buy me time and piece of mind (hopefully), and miraculously, I got a chance to do just that, through my work here in Israel. The idea was to do a relocation to the American branch of the company. At first, they showed great interest, even talking about the type of visas they could offer. Later, they cooled up (I’m not exactly sure why), and I still don’t have a clear cut answer from them, and don’t know if I ever will.

So I’m back to square one.

I’m not good at dealing with uncertainty. I am constantly plagued with “what if’s”. I can’t plan anything. It’s driving me crazy, and everything is messed up in my head. I hate that fucking feeling. It’s tiring me. I just hate it.

Where would be the best place to go to, and what exactly do I want to do when I get there? Why can’t I think clearly? Why am I so tired? Why are people such bastards and can’t give me a straight answer, and why do I lash at people who just want to help me?

I look at the cat. The cat is happy just licking her butt. The cat has a mission. She has to lick her butt, and she licks it. She doesn’t overthing it. She acts on instinct. She doesn’t have any second thoughts or ponders about the consequences or the significance of each and every lick she makes. She just licks it.

Sometimes I envy her.

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