I missed my chance. I had an opportunity and I totally dropped it. Man, what was I thinking?

Things had always been awkward between her and me anyway, but it seems that things are getting easier. She’s easier to talk to or to even start talking too. There’s no shyness or even any awkwardness. There is some semblance of playfulness in our interactions, but most of it, no.

But I definitely had an opportunity and I missed it. Damn my brain. Curse it.

I asked to borrow her laptop so I can do a speedtest on the wifi in a particular area of the second floor and the first thing she says to me is to not laugh.

I grabbed it and looked at the group picture that was on her screen. It was a group of creatives and production people all dressed in white and her sitting in the front, wearing a weird little blue shirt. I didn’t even recognize her really, but thinking back, it was her.

“Do I get it?” I shook my head, nope. She points to someone, “What’s that?”

“Grace”

“No, what color?”

“White.”

Now, she points to her shirt, “That?”

I shook my head. No clue. It’s her in a “space shirt”. The shirt is a very piss poor representation of space. It was in shades of blue with a comet or a big white shooting star floating across the chest.

And I’m like, okay. Sure. Space. So, what do we have when we put it all together, “White Space”. Our new motto, our new direction. “It’s very abstract” she said. No shit.

“Do you know how lucky it was for me to have a space shirt?” she asked.

And it was then and there that I missed my chance. I missed my opportunity. I didn’t think of it till this morning, a full over 12 hours later. Damn, I’m losing it in my old age.

I should have said, “Why do you have a space shirt? Is it because you are out of this world?” It’s fucking cheesy as hell, but I have no shame. I’m prone to cheesiness and it is what I’m known for.

Fucking ass, I lost the moment. I lost the opportunity.

Damn.

But, c’est la vie. I’m sure I’ll get other interactions. Ahhh….until next time, I guess.

* * *

I am supposed to be writing my pages today, right now, adding more to my already steady growing collection of pages on my current script. I have incentivized myself to write more and I am supposed to be writing, but I’m not.

I’m finger tapping this out instead, stretching my fingers, prepping my mind to problem solve my next set of scenes and pages.

I’m biding time, I’m procrastinating.

I’m free writing to get back into it, having taking the week off of not thinking about it. It is time to get back to it.

Pages are due tomorrow for the writer’s group next week.

Let’s see how many more pages I get.

* * *

I’m hungry. I’m actually hungry, like right now, really hungry.

At least I have lunch and dinner already planned out so I can just get to it when I get back to the apartment, but it is really distracting.

* * *

This is what happens when you decide to procrastinate and blog when you really have nothing to blog about.

I don’t have much to say, but I have already committed to this thing and I’m not quitting. Just not yet.

Food.

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve written that post about wanting to be happy, choosing to be happy, to face reality and to change how I should see the death of my father to less of it being my fault to the reality of shit just happened and he died.

There’s no meaning behind it. It’s life.

Existentialism. It is just life.

How do I feel? I don’t know. I know that some thoughts drift in and out and I just shake them out of my head, not wanting to think, to ponder, or even to consider those thoughts.

Hopefully I shake them off enough that I won’t be thinking about them anymore and they’ll just be in the past and I’m moved on.

Hopefully.

I guess that’s what I’ll discuss with my shrink tomorrow, how to shift and change that perspective when it has been canon and truth for so long. How indeed.

We shall see.

* * *

Deflated, but I knew it was only a matter of time.

I should be happy for her and I knew that it wasn’t going to happen anyway, but it’s just within my nature to hold out hope.

I can’t expect anything to happen when nothing happened to begin with.

But let’s hope that it is easier to move on.

Out of sight, out of mind.

All the best. All the best.

* * *

Change.

Evolution.

Growth.

I’ve been writing about it so much and it comes so slowly that it just makes me wonder when it’ll all stop.

When will I stop growing? When will I finally find what I’m supposed to be? When?

It’s a matter of time and I’m just really impatient.

Very impatient.

The world is moving a little too slow, or I’m just moving a little too slow to where I want to be in my life.

It’s not that I’m unhappy or unsatisfied. It’s not.

I am actually really happy in my life, living how I want to live, even though it is such a sedentary life, but it is my life to live.

But I don’t know, sometimes I feel that there should be more.

I understand I’m in control of it and it is what I make of it and I guess I’m at a point where I’m happy to live this life and not want to make any more of it.

But there’s that part of me, that nagging part of me that wants something more, someone to call my own, or someone to cuddle with, or just some body to be with.

I think a lot of it has to do with how horny I am.

I don’t know, I guess I just want something casual, or someone who is willing to give me the amount of freedom that I want.

But no woman would want something like that.

Blah, I don’t know what it is that I want.