I, Sickly Onion.
March 22, 2010
Got a text at 6:23am this morning asking me to cover the 7am-3pm shift for a sick coworker. The irony is that I am also his sick coworker. I’ve been his sick coworker, and the sick coworker of just about everyone since Monday. On the bright side, there is a vegetable named after me! That’s right. Allium Munzii, or Munz’s Onion, is a plant found in California. Why I have to be an onion and not something cool with thorns and pretty colors is depressing, but still kind of rewarding. I’m not sure if Munz’s Onion in edible or if there’s even an onion attached to the stupid white flower, but still, it was a nice factoid when I randomly Googled my last name. So even though I can’t speak, or work for Coworker Ryan, I can still announce to the world that I, Andrew Munz, have a plant that shares my name. And it’s even kind of pretty.
Yesterday at work I croaked and wheezed at just about every guest who wished me a good morning. I could hardly complete words with more than one syllable, but I pushed through the eight hours, apologizing to Mr. Tourist and Ms. Tourist about my voice, and politely denying that I was sick. “Of course not, I just lost my voice,” I told them. Which is the truth. The two nights before I was doing Laff Staff improv shows, and completely destroyed my voice. (Odd coincidence: On Friday, Brian L. began a monologue about having to eat onions.) Obviously I don’t want to tell the guest that the guy holding your bags and shaking your hand is secretly coughing his lungs out when you’re not looking. Because a sick bellman doesn’t get tips. He gets two dollars towards medicine.
I have begun a complete rewrite of the novel (heavy sigh), and it actually feels so so great (heavy sigh). I’ve stopped thinking too hard, and decided to just write it. I’m not going to worry about what my reader thinks of every single line. I’m not going to worry if the book is marketable to a certain audience or not. All that matters to me now is getting it done. Today I will have a lot of time to work on it, so I’m stoked. I have tomorrow off too. A few weeks ago I posted a series of opening lines for my novel, and here is my final choice.
“Once a man who knew nothing about me told me I’d wasted my life.”
As I try and battle this cold/infection/flu/fever with an arsenal of antibiotics, disgusting cough medicine and a billion packets of Emergen-C, I’ll be able to work more on this novel thing. But as April and Script Frenzy approach, I do want to stay true to my vow of writing a 100-page screenplay in 30 days. That’s going to be intense, and stupid, but I can’t wait. Check out the Script Frenzy website and see what it’s all about.