I really don’t know what to write here tonight. I really don’t. I thought I had something to say, something to put down for posterity, but I guess it just slipped my mind.

Tonight, while sitting in my oh not so secretly writing spot at the local mall beginning my new script, I told myself that I would write an entry. A entry about love, loss, happiness, general philosophy of life. That’s what my new script is about. The general philosophy of life and love.

What is love? Do we need it? Is there such a thing called love or is it just in the figment of our imagination? Let’s just say I didn’t get too far in my new script. A whopping page and one-eighth. I got one scene down and I was quite surprised by it. To me, it turned out well, but I guess everything I write turns out well at the time I wrote it, but in hindsight, opinions start to change.

I want to finish this script, I want to continue writing this script. It’s been a while since I’ve written anything substantial. It’s been a while since I’ve written a feature. May. That’s when I finished my last script, Tall Tales and Danger Pigs, the one that no one will read cause it is so horrible. At the moment, the new script is called Second Chance.

I think we all should deserve second chances in our lives. For everything that we’ve done and regretted. We should get a second chance. To make things right. But, if you fuck it up, that’s the last chance you get. Forget about it and move on. Move on.

Why does it hurt so much to like someone? Is it not real if it doesn’t hurt? So if you fell for a girl and you did your best to woo her and if things just doesn’t turn out the way you wanted and you move on without any problems, does that mean that it wasn’t real? I guess in my situation, all the pain has come and gone and my heart was just beating because it can.

Thinking ahead, I’m not sure what I’m going to do. Thinking ahead, I’m not sure what is going to happen. Thinking ahead, I’m not sure where I am going to go.

Where should I go? Should I actually make an effort and find someone or should I take some time off? I’ve heard many many many advices but I really can’t commit to one.

Not too long ago, I met a girl at a party. It was an old friend from my previous job’s birthday party. It was Jill’s party. I believe I wrote something about it in my earlier entries.

But I met a girl at the party. We talked, we laughed, we joked. I had a good time and I hoped she did too. The strange thing for me was that this was about a week or so after I left my previous job. I did something when I left, which i will not discuss, but it was so surprising for me to move on.

I talked with this girl. I joked with her. Things were going so well, and things were going so easy. Never felt so at ease conversing, socializing before. I’m sure the lot of alcohol I consumed during this gathering helped lower my inhibitions and made things more easy for me, also I am sure that the small intimate environment helped also.

But I met a girl at the party. We talked, we laughed, we joked. I couldn’t get this girl out of my head. No, I couldn’t. Till this day, she’s still in my mind, but she’s fading ever so slightly. Her essence dims with each minute, with each keystroke. Fade.

But I met a girl at the party. We talked, we laughed, we joked. I emailed Jill to ask her to forward my contact information to her friend. I haven’t gotten a response from Jill nor from her friend. Whether Jill forwarded my contact information to her, I’m not sure. Maybe she’s just not interested. Maybe she never got my contact information and she’s waiting ever so patiently for me to make the contact. Maybe she forgot who I am. Oh the possibilities are endless.

It’s funny how these things are just things and they really don’t amount to much or mean much. But I met a girl at the party. We talked, we laughed, we joked.

So I sit here, waiting, wasting my time, thinking, contemplating, brainstorming and just clearing my head of all things so I could just focus on nothing. Wouldn’t that be nice. To just focus on nothing. Emptiness. Blackness. Void.

But I digress. I’m just going to play things by ear from now on. If I feel compelled to act, like what I did, then I will act. If I don’t, then I don’t.

I feel that if I write things out, I can forget about them. I can not divest all my mind money on these matters. They are put in a safe place for the void to contemplate on these issues that use to fog my mind.

Maybe when I finish this entry, this girl’s brightness will have extinguished in my mind. Any hope of seeing her again will have diminished, and I will be fine with it. It was a miss connection, two lines that meet at a point and then go on in their separate trajectories never to meet again.

The funny thing about this girl is that my other friend, Susan, who was there at the party, knew I would be in trouble with this girl. She’s intelligent, petite, brunette, oh so cute, filled with the girlish charms that all men will secretly wish for in their oh so boring counterparts. I can’t believe I met a girl at the party. I can’t believe we talked. I can’t believed we laughed. I can’t believe we joked.

But again, it was just another misconnection that either came too early or came too late. Two separate lines that intersect at a certain point in the space time continuum and will never intersect again.

Now, while sitting here, getting drowsy from the coffee I had earlier tonight at the oh so not so secretly writing place, I write and clear my mind of the things that I need to say and forget about.

I never thought that I would write what I wrote tonight in a public entry. Usually these things will be in a private entry, only for my eyes, so I can reflect on these past images and thoughts and drunken discretions during a time of my life where I am able to look back. But I guess I am wrong when it comes to the fact that I have nothing to write about and I let my fingers do their little dance over this keyboard.

Oh to be on that high that alcohol gives you. That little buzz that makes you teeter on the fine line of sobriety and drunkenness. It is a euphoric feeling. I get there quite often and I fall off quite often. I’m a cheap date, so it doesn’t take much for me to get to that high. When there, things just seem so much clearer, so much freer, and so much better. Now I’m writing like a alcoholic who is in some desperate need to join a steps program.

I joke about being an alcoholic, but I’m not. I’m far from it. I’m a social drinker. Once in a while I’ll have a beer or some wine during dinner, but that is not very often. I usually don’t get drunk, only when I’m out and I know that I’m not driving or when I know that I could stay over. If not, then I’ll get my buzz, maintain that buzz as long as I can, then I sober up again.

Sobering up means lots of water and lots of bathroom breaks. When you are Asian and when you have a pea size overactive bladder and when there is alcohol involved, you could pretty much set a schedule of bathroom breaks every 2 minutes. Go in, do your thing, come out, and then go in again. It’s never ending.

Well, again, nothing to write or I don’t know what to write. Sad that something that started out as sincere and thoughtful and intelligent ended up with something about my overactive bladder and alcoholism.

But I met a girl at the party. We talked, we laughed, we joked.