Cutting Into The Morning

No matter how young I still feel in my head, my body keeps on reminding me how old I actually am. Or older perhaps. It just won't shut up about it.

Take this week for example. Having danced my feet down to stumps in Exit last Saturday and then up at stupid o'clock in the morning for the strike on Thursday, my body decided that I was in my mid-trillions and acted accordingly. My legs turned to wood (not good for the tap dancing) and my mind was about as sharp as jellied eel. I tried to do some trade mark examination at work yesterday, but it just wasn't happening - I was too busy dribbling into the pc keyboard and nearly short-circuiting it.

So instead I took half day and headed back to my lodgings in Roath, with the intention of editing the footage of the picket lines that I'd videod on the 30th. I had just purchased a Ministry of Sound compilation dance thingy and put that on to get the momentum going. And it worked, to be fair.

But the editing was taking its time - having worked out a structure to it, all I needed to do was slot the relevant clips into position and export it from iMovie. Simple, yes? Oh no, not the way I do it. Is that shot just a few frames too long? Is the speech legible, or should I add a filter to it? Ooh, I don't like that gap in the soundtrack between shots - what can I replace it with? Shouldn't I put a few more cutaways here? Oh no, it's looking murky; should I post it off and have it colour graded??

Hence I was editing way into the evening and past midnight; about 2 in the morning I was trying to do a chromakey title that just wouldn't work, much to my frustration. But it was pretty much all assembled by this time, so I reluctantly powered down the Mac and crawled into bed next to my gently snoring partner. If only my mind powered down as easily.

Trouble is, once I start doing something like this, I have a hard time putting the brakes on. I remember when I was studying the animation module at Newport College (now the University of Wales, Newport); I'd be up ALL night, my mind kept awake by endless cigarettes and cups of coffee, my hands blackened by charcoal that was scribbled onto each individual sheet of A4 and my lungs choking with the cheap hairspray that was used to fix the charcoal. I was in my late 20s at that time and even back then it took its toll the next day. I think if I even attempted that now this blog would have to be communicated through a medium.

But it's Saturday, I've just about recovered from the late night and I'm finally content (well, content-ish) with the cut of the video that I'm currently uploading to Facebook, YouTube, etc. The sound is pretty bad though and makes me seriously consider getting a proper HD video camera if I'm going to do more video work.

I should really get some writing done today (that creative impetus has gone by the by this week what with one thing and another) but the sun is out, the sky is blue and I feel the call of the wild. By that I mean a nice stroll round Roath Park.

I just hope I don't fall asleep on a park bench. A comatose, dribbling, 40-something male is never a nice sight.