Know what your strategy is. Take a few days to plan. You need a path to change the situation you’re in. Yes, the journey to start somewhere and end up somewhere else can be thrilling, but do you want to remain thrilled or out of this situation? The short answer is to be conscious of your goal and allocate steps. They may need repeated revisions, but it’s better to have to regroup than to just stumble around and hope.
Improvisation is fantastic, but not foolproof. I’ve intermittently improvised over the years on everything I’ve done with relatively okay results, but strategy and planning with a map to guide what I’m intending on doing has more often than not proved beneficial.
Corny as it seems my motivation finally dawned after a miscellaneous spousal argument and the epiphany finally dawning. A strategy is necessary. As the movie trope went, I looked into my own eyes and told myself, “I’m going to change my life today for the next year and my future.” That audible pronouncement prompted me to take things further.
Without a strategy you will continue to just get by and go in circles. I’ve done so for nearly two decades. The time drips away, don’t allow that. Develop your specific plan and move forwards.
J.R.: [demonstrating] Now look, this powder is fine.
He opens the lid and angles it forward to reveal to David.
J.R.: And this milk is too.
Turning off the lid, he tilts the bottle to David’s viewpoint.
J.R. mixes the two and takes a sip.
J.R.: If anything were wrong, I just committed suicide. Now do you trust me or not? If you want some, nod. If not stay still.
David meekly nods.
J.R.: But if I hear a word out of you when the gag is removed, the gag goes back in. I’m not fucking around.
With great apprehension, J.R. removes the gag.
David remains silent.
J.R. angles the nozzle to gently allow David to drink. Within seconds the entire shake has gone.
DAVID: Thank you.
J.R. awkwardly smirks and looks away. He then reluctantly places the gag back into David’s mouth, who doesn’t struggle.
J.R., unable to look at David closes the closet door. David’s eyes whimper, he’s thankful but still extremely afraid.
Sighing, J.R. slowly turns around, heading back into the bedroom.
KAREN: [seated] Baby I can’t do this. I’ve got to leave.
J.R. pauses and tilts his head in question.
KAREN: I don’t have a clue. [beat] I just can’t handle this. I’m not going to jail.
KAREN: Yeah, so… That’s it.
KAREN: And nothing. I’ve got to go.
J.R.: That’s kind of bullshit.
KAREN: I’m sorry.
J.R.: Look, if we properly dispose of Elmar, I’m sure we can sweep this away.
KAREN: Dispose of him?
J.R.: He can’t stay in the living room much longer.
KAREN: This is the worst week of my life.
J.R.: What am I going to do then?
KAREN: You’re the man, you’re supposed to keep cool and handle things.
J.R.: Yup, okay. So I will. Of course.
Karen goes into her bedroom closet and pulls out a suitcase. She puts it onto the bed and opens it up.
J.R.: What if we fake a suicide for Elmar? Write a note or something? What then?
KAREN: Far too sick — [beat] — and complicated. I want out.
J.R. restrains himself from yelling “But you’re the one who fucking killed him!” He internalizes the resentment of the position she has put him in.
Karen begins packing clothes.