Dinky's Docket

Yesterday I had a headache that ripped me apart. It was one of those that builds up gradually and then hits you so hard you can't stand anymore. I was able to deal with it for awhile until this punk kid from an ad agency came to edit with me. Like most agency-types, he's much younger and pulls in a much higher salary than me--always hard to take. He kept talking about all the big-budget projects he's worked on, how he was in a spot but didn't get a talent fee for it, how everyone else in the industry have no clue what they're doing. And then he told the most awful jokes. I wanted to tell him, "Look, you're paying for the editor who doesn't talk. I'm the quiet one. If you want a social hour, it's $50 an hour more with the other editor." And then the pain began to consume me. With every teeth-clenching smile in his direction, my skull began to implode. Finally we finished and I convinced him that the dubs couldn't be done that day and he left. Then I literally felt as if I were going to die.

I think I have gained an insight into what those people go through who have pain so bad that they mutilate themselves. My neck felt like it was broken. I've had migraines and tension headaches all my life but I always forget exactly what the pain was like. Let me tell you, it's hell.