Night Owl Flailing

Well, so much for changing from a night owl, at least tonight. It's 1:49 A.M. and I'm just going to bed. This is ridiculous.

Today was like that story I used to read Figgy--Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, by Judith Viorst. For Alexander, that involved gum in his hair, a seating problem on the bus and a packed lunch he didn't like, if I remember correctly. For me, it was that I worked like a dog--hours and hours of research and writing--to meet a deadline and felt really good about the article, only to have a very young editor tell me it was all wrong and act like I don't know what I'm doing.

That won't stop me, though it did squash me for a while. I am back on track, at least for now.

At about midnight, I put on the TV for a minute but there was Changeling, one of the most riveting movies I've ever seen. Clint Eastwood directed brilliantly, and Angelina Jolie is excellent. So is the whole cast. God, what a troubling tale that was. It makes me so sad--that such a terrible true crime happened to little boys in the 1920s in California--but Clint's attention to storytelling details makes it completely gripping and hard to look away.

I had to go into the other room to finish watching it. When H. and I saw it at the movies with Ted and Moey, he was so disturbed that he said he'd never go see another movie directed by Clint Eastwood. But to its credit, this movie is like the best writing--you are there.