Tired.

I am tired. My body just screams for the bed that I sorely miss right now. It screams at the steal chair, the uncomfortable position, the drug that I’m taking. It screams for something more comfortable, something softer and warmer.

Each piercing scream gets louder and louder in my head. I ignore the pain and march on. I have to do this; I have to maintain this routine. If I deviate from the plan, I lose all focus. I can’t lose focus now. I have to focus on my work and nothing else. If not, pain will crawl slowly back into my life again. I can’t have that.

I come here night after night, typing away at this keyboard, writing my little stories about secret lives of other people. Last night it was Stormee, who “seize the day” and did what she must to get her guy. She was a brave soul, yet so tortured from alcohol. Was she thinking straight when she pretended to be passed out while her soul mate rapes her? To her, she was thinking straight; she was thinking clearly. She never thought so clearly in her life as she puts the plan in action. She needed her Christian that night. Stormee got her wish.

A couple of months before, it was a Young Man who raped his good friend. He fed her a few drinks and took her upstairs. He had his way. Finished, he just left her there, passed out and none the wiser, scraps for the buzzards that were flying high above. He did it because he could, because he’s done it before, and because it was a friend. The opportunity presented itself, and being a guy of opportunity, he couldn’t pass up the chance.

How can things like this happen in life? How can something so vile and so wrong happen like it was nothing? How? It just can. That’s life. The Young Man raped his friend who he thought was passed out, but in reality, his friend just used him to get what she wanted, and that was to have him inside her. It was a ploy to get him into bed, because she knows he wouldn’t otherwise. That was all that mattered to her, that was all she needed.

Who is wrong in this situation? Stormee for pretending to be passed out so her friend, Christian, can take advantage of her? Or is it Christian, who took advantage of a drunk friend?

Who’s the bad guy? Or are there any bad guys in this scenario? Funny how things are just left up to people to judge what is right and what is wrong. Many people will see it one way, others will see it another. Many will agree and many will disagree. It’s kind of hard when both are acting on selfish motives. But in life, we all are acting on selfish motives. To some people, they have no problems with taking what they can get, no matter the cost. Others will never consider or even think of the possibility. They just admit defeat and move on.

Fiction. Flights of fantasy these two stories were. Just something I made up to entertain myself. It was something I wrote because I got an idea in my head and I needed to put it on paper. It was taken from an experience from my life. No, I never done anything of the sort, any thoughts of that nature never crossed my mind. No. It never happened. But in a way, I was accused of it. I made it into a story where it actually happened.

That was the story of the Young Man. It was his tale about a friend of his from highschool. He raped her, and that was that. No more, no less. Now the story of Stormee was a fabrication all together with no outside influence. I wrote it because I wanted a companion piece to the Young Man’s story. I wanted it from the woman’s perspective. How it was like to be raped? I don’t know. Instead of going through with her story about being raped, I had to come up with something different. Power. Will. Choice. Manipulation.

The woman had the power. Everything was her doing. She had the power over the man. The Young Man was weak, giving in to his nature, giving into his animal instincts, to his greed and selfishness. The woman showed control. The woman had the power throughout the relationship. All women do. She used him for her own gain. That was all that matters.

So again, who’s the bad guy here? Who is in the most wrong? The man or the woman? Who is to judge?

My social self is not a very pleasant one. I see myself in a certain light that is drastically different from how others see me. I see myself as the antisocial loner that alienates himself from others, and others see me as this social butterfly that jokes and laughs and makes conversations with people. These people who see me in this light are mostly people that I met from work.

Work people are different. I have to play nice, I have to interact, I have to socialize with them, so it takes away the pressure of socializing with them. Now, people that I meet at parties, that’s different. There are people that I connect with right off the bat and there are others that I don’t connect with at all and in my case the former is generally the case.

I am both, but I really do think that I am my own belief. I’m that social wallflower.

I can get to be that fun guy, but it all depends on the situation, the party, the people that I’m hanging out with and all importantly my mood of socializing, and my level of sobriety. If I’m not in the mood to socialize, I usually don’t go to the party, or if I am at the party and I’m not feeling the crowd, then I tend to keep to myself or find someone I know there and try to talk with them.

I find myself doing that this past weekend at a party that I went to.

I wasn’t feeling the crowd. It just wasn’t my crowd. It was my friend Jill’s house-warming bbq bash at her and her roommate’s, Leina, apartment. Nice apartment. If only I was richer.

Anywho, I went to the party, expecting just to be like her birthday party that I went to a few months ago. It wasn’t. First of all, I didn’t have enough to drink, and secondly, I was kind of freezing my ass off.

I didn’t feel comfortable. The guests were talking about things I know nothing about or cared much for. So, I was out of my element.

But I went anyways. It wasn’t until the very end when I actually enjoyed myself. It was just Jill and I, talking. Just talking about life, expectations, finding oneself and not compromising one’s interest and one’s personality for the greater good of the crowd or friends. Be yourself. One has to sacrifice many things to do what one’s heart desires. I did it, and so can she.

But back to the party, the wallflower in me. Walking in the door, I noticed a THE GIRL. She was there. I half expected it, but at the same time I thought she was somewhere else. But she was there.

Last time we’ve met, I was smitten. Seduced by her girlish charms, her bouts of cuteness, her bad jokes, her adorable sense of attractiveness. She’s hot. We talked, we joked, we laughed. It was a great time had by all or so I believe.

She looked no different, dressed down more than last time, which makes her look even more attractive. But she is still she, her adorable self.

I don’t know what it was with me, but for the most part, I tried to make a connection with her again, but I wasn’t feeling it. Maybe it was just me being a wallflower or maybe it was her sensing my awkwardness around her that made her keep her distance; I’m not sure what it was, but I know for sure that we didn

Here we go again. I found Drew. Drew is now blipped back into my life. I find it funny that Jill said that she was going to move to New York and everything at the beginning of January, but I guess that didn’t happen. Time could have changed things, maybe, maybe not. I just find it funny that Drew is here in Los Angeles, still living in Long Beach, still working at the same ol’ place. Things never changed.

What happened? I knew deep inside that it was just a ploy. It was just a ploy. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, but I don’t know. It just seems wrong you know? Why can’t she just tell me the truth that she’s not interested in me instead of giving me this bullshit that she’s moving to New York to be with the Corduroy suit guy? It’s just too far of a stretch to come up with something like that.

Well, I met Drew again over the weekend. I saw her at Jill’s housewarming bbq. It was an okay party I guess. I didn’t drink that much, which means I didn’t get drunk and didn’t loosen up. I didn’t like the crowd. I don’t know why, but I didn’t like the crowd.

I walked into the door and inside were the girls. Susan, Margo, and Jill kept on saying, “that’s Drew. It’s Drew.” I blew it off, pretended not to hear, not to care. Seeing her, it wasn’t a surprise, and I really didn’t care. The girls were dancing, so I went outside to the patio and chilled with the guys. Introduced myself, got a beer, and then chatted with Rob. It was all right.

Later, there she was, coming out the door and making her way to me. Cup in hand, she poured herself a sangria and we proceeded with the small talk. I told her what I’ve been up to and she told me the same. She’s still working at LACMA, living in Long Beach, and writing about the Metro. Things never changed.

Nothing came up about the trip to New York, nothing came up about anything at all. I didn’t know whether she was bored with me or whether I was just turned off by her, I’m not sure what it was, but things pretty much fizzled after that.

I tried to make conversation with her as the night progressed and I find her keeping her distance. A sign indeed. She’s not interested, and I should leave it at that.

We didn’t get to talk about anything pertinent or talk about anything at all. The night progressed, her ditzy intelligence came out, as expected. How funny how I found it so cute just months ago and now, I could careless about.

Don’t get me wrong, she’s still hot and as adorable as ever, but I don’t know. I don’t know her that well. Would love to get to know her better, but it just isn’t in the stars. We’re not star-crossed lovers, or lovers, or stars. We’re nothing but mere acquaintances; nothing more, nothing less.

The night progressed and the party ended. People left and I stayed. I stayed later than I wanted to, but it was all right. I got to talk to Jill, just about life, about finding one’s way and becoming more comfortable with oneself.

Leina, depressed, tired, and pessimistic, couldn’t keep our company as I told her to go to bed. She finally took a nap. Jill and I just talked and talked and then there was nothing more.

I went home, sober and sober.

I just went home.

I never thought that my still being a virgin would be a cool thing. I never met someone who thinks that still being a virgin at the age of 25, going on 26 in less than a month, would be a cool thing. I met that someone.

Whether she is pulling my leg or not, I’m not sure, but she thinks that it is cool that I am still one. I laugh, and tell her that it is pathetic, cause it really is. It really is.

She’s a sweet girl. A nice girl. A pretty girl. A girl that I could easily fall for. I have already started that process of falling for her. I’ve talked with her. I’ve flirted with her. I’ve even asked her out and gave her my number. We’ve only met for three weeks.

In these past three weeks I’ve gotten to know more about her than I did in three years time of my last infatuation. She’s an easy girl to talk to. Funny, cute, playful, and wise. A sweet girl, filled with the girlish charms that drives men crazy. She’s a great girl.

Unfortunately for me. She’s taken, as all great girls are. She’s taken.

During my days, I will spend my bored hours, my hours of not wanting to be there, talking with her, getting to know her, to help make the day go by faster.

The funniest thing that she’s ever told me or said about me is that I’m cocky. I’ve never thought I was cocky. Cocky is not me. I’m not full of myself, I don’t try to impress others so they would like me. I’ve never been that type of person. She thought me as cocky. Ha! I laugh at that thought. She laughed too cause of my reaction.

Cocky? No. She used the wrong word. She even told me that she’s using the wrong word as she exclaimed that I’m cocky. No, she meant to say that I’m sure of myself.

Funny. I’ve been told that just last weekend, and now, this girl, who’ve I only met for three weeks tells me the same thing. I’ve changed. Like I said in my last entry, I’m a lot surer of myself.

Three weeks. Three weeks. That’s the quickest I’ve acted and connected with a girl. Considering it took me a long while to get up the courage to ask my last obsession out, this is moving fast for me.

I don’t know what came over me. I’ve never connected with a girl so fast before. Well, maybe I had and I didn’t notice. I don’t know. From the first day, I wasn’t afraid of joking with her, making fun of her. From the first day, I wasn’t afraid of causing trouble.

Is this the new me? How did I become this way? When did this start?

Did it start with the whole lesbian thing on New Year’s Eve or did it start before? My Thanksgiving break up in Washington? Jill’s party? When? Where was this courage, this confidence, this assertiveness when I needed it most in the oh so long days ago?

Did me getting out of my old job just gave me a clean slate to start new? Things just seem to fall into place ever since I’ve gotten out of there. Was that place so bad that it just blocked all of my positive energy, stunting my emotional growth? I’ve been told and I believed that place would suck my soul. I guess it really did.

So stagnant my life felt there. Every time I take a step forward, it just seems that I get pulled back ten steps. Look what I’ve accomplished since my leaving there.

I made a short film.

I wrote a play and will write another which will most likely be produced.

I started a script that I’m actually excited about.

I’ve made and connected with girls. Sure nothing has come out of it, but I’m making progress. Drew, the laundromat girl, the lesbian, and now the new girl.

This couldn’t happen any sooner? I guess not. I know I’ve written that I don’t believe in fate and destiny and everything, but I guess it has to happen when it happens, if not, then it wouldn’t happen.

This is the fastest that I’ve learned about a person in a long while. She told me many things that she said no one knows. I feel special.

Things are different about this one. Things are different about me and what is happening. Knowing me, I should be so deeply into this girl that I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Knowing me, she should be my world. Knowing me, she should be my obsession.

Like my last craving, she should encompass all that is me, but she’s not. I’ve gotten less and less obsessive. I can let go and just let things be. Sure it doesn’t seem to the dear reader that that is the case, cause I’m writing about her, but honestly, it is true. Things are different. Things are different indeed.

i don’t know what it is with me, but things are truly different. Maybe it is just my general apathy about things, or maybe my friend is right, that I’m just growing more and more callous, but I don’t think that is the case. I’m not emotionally hardened, well, atleast I don’t think I am.

So what is going to happen now? I don’t know. I’m not going to pry, I’m not going to do anything. Nothing at all. If it happens, it’ll happen. It it doesn’t, then it doesn’t, it never was meant to be.

* * *

Silence. All is silent but the soft tunes that pour out of the headphones. Nothing stirs around him. He sits in silence, thinking, reflecting on his life, typing it away to the muffled ballad that blares from his headphones. He sits alone.

This is his life, his passion, his destiny. It is just his sitting and typing away, writing all his feelings, thoughts, memories and philosophies down on the electronic notepad. He writes because he can. He writes because he needs to. He writes because it eases his soul.

The orange glowing eyes that pass on the road underneath hypnotizes him into his mindless daze. He watches other people as they do the same thing, driving, living, moving on as he sits so alone, stagnant, writing.

He doesn’t belong with them. They move whereas he sits. They’re going places so quickly and he just sits as he waits patiently for his destination to arrive. He waits so patiently. He’s waited so long, he doesn’t mind waiting more.

Life moves so fast around him, he doesn’t know how to live that life. Whatever happen to the slow days of yore? Whatever happened to the life that once was?

It was a easier time then, a simpler time. Not much on one’s mind and no worries to cloud one’s mind. Whatever happened?

What’s changed in him, what’s changed in all of us that made us age so fast? What happened that causes us to blink and miss three years of our lives?

He sits contemplating these questions. The answers elude him like life escapes him. He sits so patiently, waiting for the answers to drop on his lap. He writes and writes hoping the dam will break and the answers will flow through him onto the page.

But nothing comes tumbling out of him. The secrets of the world still sit knowingly inside him.

Deep inside all of us, we know the answers to these questions. Deep inside us, we have the answers to all secrets of the world, the universe, to existence, but we are just too afraid to answer it.

Once we answer these life long questions, what is left? All the mysteries are answered and there is nothing left to learn. There will be nothing left to search for, to drive us to live and to figure what is wrong with us? There will be nothing but waiting around to the inevitable. The endless sleep or the great awakening?

He stops writing and looks around him, studying the things that sit stagnant with him. A potted plant, misaligned chairs and tables, windows, people sitting doing the same thing that he is, buildings, billboards, signs. All these things, so different, yet so much a like. Even the things in motion are similar to these stagnant objects.

They all will have to stop sometime. It’s inevitable that they do stop, yet each one will still live on, move on with time as they sit stagnant like our dear writer.

Time changes everything. Time moves on and is endless. The concept of time is never ending. Even when the last soul leaves our planet, time will still tick on like clockwork.

The funny thing about time and with all things is that with each second that goes by, we can’t get that second back. It is lost in time forever. It is our past. Constantly, we are getting further and further away from where we were just mere seconds ago.

We all are never really stagnant. Even when we are dead, we are never stagnant. We will always live on and move on, moving away further and further from the the present ticking of each precious second. We will always be, moving on, moving, moving.

Even the dead knows the concept of time. We can never escape time.

With each song and each beat, he types to the rhythm that the headphones blares into this head. He types and types like a slow sweet tango. Each stroke of his fingers types a symbol that adds to another symbol that forms a thought that strings together with another thought that strings with another thought. Pretty soon all he has is a string of thoughts that tells a story. That is life.

Life is just a series of thoughts that string together to tell a story. It tells the story of a person’s life. From birth to death. It’s just nothing but a series of thoughts, events. These events are so much alike to everyone else’s events, but they are so different because they are each our own. No two persons share the same events the same way.

Their connection with the other string of events that precedes the current event dictates how they think and feel and behave, making each experience, even though experienced by millions different and individual.

And with each second that passes by, that event will be a part of a collection of events that each of us has experienced and will be a part of our history. With our newfound collected history, we take all we can and prepare ourselves for the next even that is currently taking place. And the cycles go on and on until there is nothing left to learn because we have learned all we have to know, or want to know, or need to know in our lifetime.

As we pass, we pass down our collection of life events onto our next generation. The next generation incorporates these events into their lives and build from them. Soon, our world is just a collection of stories of billions upon billions upon billions of people that are always near and dear to us, each all connected to each other through time; each experiencing time, the only constant in the world.

He stops writing as he comes to a familiar song that shares the same sentiments that he is writing about. Let it be by the Beatles. There will be an answer, let it be. All these questions that every single one of us have, there will be an answer to it. Be patient, and just let it be. The answers will come when it is time to come. Things will come when it is time for it. Don’t rush it. The last thing you want to do with your time and your life it to rush it.

Why try and rush and grow up so quickly? You will just end up looking back thinking where had the time go. You will just end up blinking and half of your life will pass you by and you just will sit there in your old age thinking what happened to it.

Don’t rush. Just let it be as the fab four will sing and just live life as you always wanted to live life. On your own terms. Don’t let anything dictate how you should live your life. When it is time to change, you and only you will change. It is not worth changing on the account of someone. The change is not nnatural and the change is not you, especially when you are not ready for it.

He continues writing as the song finishes. He’s writing, taking his time, sitting there, not alone, and not in silence, but surrounded by all things that is like him, listening to the songs of the world and the mighty tunes that rattle his brain. He sits there writing, taking his sweet time, patiently typing out letter for letter, word for word, sentence for sentence, paragraph for paragraph, linking things up to tell a story.

The story of his life. The story of the world. The story of all.

* * *>

Things are finally getting back to how things were. Everything is the same and expected. No surprises. Friends will always be friends, enemies will always be enemies, people will always be people.

Things are finally back to where they are. I’m here again, sitting so alone in this lonely bridge typing away into this dark lonely internet void that I’ve become so familiar with and doing the thing that I’ve grown to love. Writing. I am writing again. I am clearing my thoughts. I am writing. Writing.

So many things cloud my mind, yet nothing seems to stick. Random thoughts just go through and through my mind and I pay it no attention. Different people come and go, different ideas come and go, life comes and go. Oh, there was just an old friend that just zipped through my conscience and zipped out again. That’s where things stand.

Everything just seems to be a distant memory to me. Everything just seems so out of reach, yet so close at the same time. I have managed to keep the necessary distance from things and people where to not get hurt if things go sour.

I have hardened my soul, as one of my friends put it. I am like molten lava that has cooled on the surface, but in the inside is still a molten boiling ooze of fire. I could explode at any minute. That’s what she told me. That’s what she said. I’m lava, hardened on the outside, yet still volatile.

Do I see any truth in that? Do I? In a way, yes, but also, no. I have calmed down so much and have grown into a more comfortable skin. Albeit that skin has many flaws and much apathy in many things, it is a much better skin that helps me actually be free and liberated in many things, in many aspects of my life. I’m not afraid anymore.

What am I not afraid of? I’m not afraid of failure, I’m not afraid of getting hurt, I’m not afraid of making a fool out of myself. I’ve been there, I’ve done that. It’s old news. No harm in experiencing something that you’ve already experienced. No harm at all. Try experiencing something new, something different. Slowly I am. Slowly.

I’m a very laid back guy. I take things as they come. I never act on many things unless I absolutely am burning to act, but that rarely comes. When I act, I put everything I have into it. Everything. I’m acting more and more. I’m not that passive person that I use to be. A little more assertive I am. Just a tad.

I’m sure of my self. Very sure of my self. That’s another thing a friend of mine pointed out. I’m sure of myself. I know what I want. I know what I like, I know what I don’t like, I know what I want to do. I’m sure of many things. No more debating with myself to see how I would come out in the better light. If my thoughts are against the grain, so be it. If my actions or beliefs hurt other people, I’m sorry, but I won’t change it. I’ll stand by it. That’s me.

It’s been a long and arduous journey that I’ve been on these past few years. A growing experience, a learning experience. I’m living. It’s by no ways anywhere close to how many “normal” people live their lives, but I am living. I go out whenever I please. I act how I want, I do what I want, I live how I want.

I’m doing things that are comfortable to me, doing things that will make me joyful and smile. I’m doing things. I’m happy. I don’t write that that often, I don’t claim to be happy that often, but I think it is time for me to type it, to say it, to mean it. I am happy for me, for who I am, for what I’m doing, for me. I am happy.

My friend doesn’t see me that way. Sure I’ve grown and changed as she said. I’m not as volatile as I was, keeping my emotions skin deep until something sets me off in a joyful or angry or sad tantrum. Like she said, I’m surer of myself. Yet, she thinks I’m not happy. She thinks only “maybe” will I find happiness, only “maybe”.

Why only “maybe”? Simple. I have no love in my life. I don’t know love. I don’t love. I’m selfish. I don’t know love. I have no love in my life. God is love. GOD is LOVE. With love comes happiness. With God comes happiness. I need God in my life. I need God in my life.

She gave me some sermons to listen to. I’m listening but I’m not listening. It just doesn’t make sense. I still have the reservations in religion and religiosity. Even though she pegs her belief, her denomination, not as religiosity but faith, I still have reservations. It still seems like preaching to me.

Religion, faith, beliefs…these are all individual things. These are things that happen because of the individual. It is the individual that must find God. It is the individual that must have faith; it is the individual that must believe. It is a matter of one, not a collective.

Christianity is not a belief of the individual. It never worked that way. It never will. As long as there is a church, there will never be individuality. I’m not trying to bash Christianity and all Christians or anyone who believes in God, I’m not. Christianity will always be a group religion; it will always be a collective. Churches aren’t for the individual, but for the many patrons and believers of God.

I’m not one. Not one at all. I’m an individual. I have my own beliefs; I have my own way of thinking, and my own morals and ethics. They are mine and mine alone. Sure they do cross over and coincide with many Christian beliefs, but they are still mine to follow, my rules, my guidelines, my philosophy to follow. For me, the sense of spirituality is an individual thing, an alone process. It is up to you to find your direction in life. It is up to you, as the individual to find God. It is up to the individual. The individual must find God first before they can be fully accepted into the group.

I have not found God. I do not believe in God. Does he exist? Sure. He exists for many people, but not me.

I think this whole finding God business is the same as finding yourself. Finding your inner peace, reaching a state of Zen and enlightenment. We all do the same thing. You Christians and us individualists, Buddhists, Taoists, Muslims. We are all trying to find our inner peace; reach a state of enlightenment. The world would be a much better place if all of us find our inner peace, find our direction. Once we all do, the world will be a much better place. We all are doing the same thing, but it is our bigotry and our constantly forcing our beliefs and thoughts and our preachiness that gets in the way of everyone reaching the same thing.

We are all just trying to find peace. Once we do, we will just transcend this world and these petty problems. It will be a better place.

All I just want to say is to just let us find our own peace our own way. Whether it is in God or Allah or finding philosophies that matches with how we think or conceiving new philosophies that fit you individually. Just let things be. Let things be.

Religion, it has never been my fort

My oh my, how do my fingers itch just to be able to tap dance around these keys again. It’s been too long indeed since I’ve written anything. Too long.

How long has it been? Two months, three?

I’ve been busy for the last couple of months, just focusing on the short film and everything. Passion Fruit has been shot and edited. Now it just awaits it’s little tempo, it’s music, it’s heart. Since I’m just waiting for the music and I have nothing left to do with it, I now finallly got a chance to write; to ramble on and on like I did before.

It’s been a crazy and hectic a couple of months. Lots of money have been put into the film. Now, where it stands, how do I like it? I think it is all right. I have many gripes about it, as in the quality of the picture. Somehow, it just doesn’t look as sharp and as rich as I thought it would with the camera that I used, but what can I do. I got to use it for free and that’s all that matters.

The whole experience, from conception, to preproduction, to principal photography, to post production (still ongoing) has been a great learning experience. I never thought that there would be so much work going into a short of only seven minues. The careful planning and practicing, test footage, blocking, running through shots; they all amounted to nothing cause nothing really helps you prepare for the day of the shoot. Sure I had an idea of how each shot should be and so forth, but when it comes time to film, that goes out the window. I followed the same shots, the same plans, but yet, plans, shots, scenes change.

It’s funny how drastically different the current cut now from it’s original conception. Whole scenes has been changed. Ideas have been dropped. I wouldn’t say that it’s a different movie, but in a way it is. How it was originally written, the woman seemed to be the secondary character, whereas now, she’s the main character. It seems that she’s the focus. My how things change.

The opening sequence, which was scripted as an exterior shot in a park has been scrapped because of the rainy weather that California has been having for the past couple of months. Scott and I came up with a different idea, and in hindsight, a much better idea (for the script and the theme), then it was originally written. In a span of two days, the opening sequence changed from the aformentioned park scene to a photography studio. We planned and blocked each shot, how it should be shot, how it should look, and dressed the set in a span of two days. The funny thing was while we were doing all of this, the park sequence was still being considered. It was our backup, and we went with it. The more I thought about that new scene, the more I felt it worked better. So it came to that.

We shot everything in the span of a weekend. Sure there were problems that came up, like the lack of extras or even missed shots (unfortunatley I forgot about a good shot) and missed color and small mistakes. But I got everything that I needed to cut everything together to make it work. It works fine. The most uncomfortable scene to shoot was the sex scene. The actress couldn’t stop giggling and laughing, but the actor helped pull her together and made it more comfortable. I tried to shoot as fast as I could so I could just not shoot it and move onto the next scene. It turned out well. Rutledge, who saw an earlier cut of the sex scene said that it was steamy. For a sex scene without any nudity to be called steamy, I should be proud of that, right?

Now it is done, well visually anyway. Again, I still need the music and I need to put the end credits, but it is about 95 percent finished. I wish I could look at it objectively and with fresh eyes, but I really can’t. I’ve seen the short too many times as I cut everything together. I close my eyes and there it is fresh in my head. The flaws that I can’t shake from my eyes.

This is my first short, and it will not be my last. As much pride as I would take in this short, because it is my first, I still have my reservations on how good it is. I can’t look past the flaws. It is so near and dear to me, that I want perfection, but it just isn’t. There are just too many flaws.

Now, I got a two week break before the music will be finished. Currently I have temp music in, to help me cut and to help find the beat to the film. The music for the opening title sequence (shots of fruits) is a cover of a Spanish song entitled Unicornio sung by Cecelia Noel. The music for the next scene, the photography shoot, is Nat King Cole’s Aquellos Ojos Verdes. The song that I used to play under the dialogue in the now dinner/talk scene and then played into the sex scene is Aimee Mann’s Red Vines. There is no music/score for the last scene, the breakup scene. I wanted it to be cold and let the scene play out without any manipulation.

I think the temp music works really really well with the cut that I have now. I just turned it in to my friend, who’s band, Exhausted Prayer is doing the music. The band is a death metal band, so it would be interesting to see what kind of music they will turn out. I also just turned in the cuts to Scott, the producer. I already told him my reservations and the flaws that I can’t get out of my mind and the problems with the missing footage that didn’t save properly. But all in all, it turned out to be a great shoot, and a decent unique film.

Once it is all finished, it is time to do what I must do with it. Find festivals that wouldn’t mind taking a look at it. Put it online, submit it to people who might be interested in seeing it. Showing family, friends, maybe. I don’t know.

But it’s done, well almost, and now it is down to the next project.

Before I get started on the next project, I need to write more, just come out here and just ramble on more. More and more. More and more. I need to get back into the mode of writing again before I can rewrite my play and write a follow up play.

It looks that this whole play thing will be Scott’s and my next project. We are still gathering scripts, we are still writing scripts, and we are still early in planning. But in all honesty, I’m really excited about this. It might be my first acting experience. It should be great.

Till next time I feel the need to fill people in on what is happening, it would be back to my usual ramblings. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be months this time.