The 4th of July weekend. It was the first time seeing family again after I came back from Washington. A part of me didn’t want to go because I really think it was just too soon for me to see family again, but a part of me did want to go because it is family.

I’m glad I went. It was just nice to be around family again. It was just nice.

Well, the weather down here in sunny California has been picking up, especially for the weekend. On my trip up, I had my windows down, sunroof open, arm out the window, sitting in the Los Angeles traffic. Big mistake. My left arm is peeling, and five shades darker than my right. I don’t think my arms will ever match up again.

Don’t get me started on the heat. It was hot, scorching, triple digits (well upper 90’s). I couldn’t stand it in Fresno. Throughout most of the weekend I got a headache that never seemed to go away. I’ve been getting headaches ever since I got back from Washington. But the ones I had in Fresno were different. They were from the heat, and I was drinking beer. Alcohol and heat. Two things that just don’t go well together. Leads to dehydration and premature hang overs.

I just have to say, I haven’t eaten so well in a while. Home cooked meals, dim sum, pho, bbq, sushi. I can always count on having good food and being well fed everytime I go up there. Another thing, there’s always beer.

The kids. For the most part, I enjoyed the time with the kids. They kept me company. Sure they get on my nerves, especially when they start bickering amongst themselves and start fighting, but they are kids, and I’m use to them. I would have to say that Amy, the smart ass, is a very violent child. She’s loud also and not to mention a poser. But that is who she is. Anywho, whenever I disagree with her or return a smart ass comment with a smart ass remark of my own, she found it necessary to just slap my sun burned arm. Cute, yeah right. After three days with them, it was just time to go, thankfully.

Their parents were great. They didn’t bring up my father’s death that much. They never treated me any different, didn’t give me sympathetic looks, or condolences, none of them did, not even the kids. I was glad. I don’t think I could take them. But listening to the kids’ mom talking with my mom was a little tough for me.

The weekend was nice. A much needed break from the city.

We bought fireworks for the Fourth. They were crap. $40 worth of crap. Amy shelled out $20 and I covered the rest. We were all highly disappointed. Amy invited some friends (Maria, Phong (girl), and Linda) over for the fireworks show. I had to pick them up of course, something I wasn’t too happy about, but ehh..what can I do. The kids were getting bored of me and I was getting annoyed with the kids, so might as well bring some of their friends to come and keep them company. There we were, watching the stupid fireworks show in the back yard. We waited until it was dark, I got my camera and was expecting something spectacular. Nope, nothing of the sort.

Apparently, I got the crappy kind where you stand on the ground and it shoots out sparks about ten feet in the air. Multi-colored ones, mono-colored ones. There were about eight big tubes (well these were the biggest things in the package). Each and every single one were the same. I was expecting something that shoots hundreds of feet in the air and explode into a great giant ball of fire or a screeching dragon a la The Fellowship of the Ring. How I was disappointed. The pictures turned out well. My photography professor sure knows what he’s talking about.

Speaking of photography class. It is going well. I’ve been to three classes. Most of the things I’m learning, I know for the most part, but the class helps me grasp the concepts better. It helps explain many things and how I shouldn’t trust the camera. I’ve learned the F16 rule and should take pictures using the set of rules and guidelines. I’ve done one assignment and I skipped the second one (taking pictures of shadows). I felt it was worthless and just not worth spending money on film and developing the slides. The new assignment is very interesting and I am defintely going to do it. Just need to get the film and find the time this weekend. I’m still not taking as much pictures as I would like, but I’m taking pictures again. I just don’t have time with work and everything.

Back to the weekend. We’ve bbq’d on the Fourth. It was just the kids, their parents, and I for the most part. The other girls didn’t come till later. The kids’ parents had to work later (working meaning go gambling). So I was there watching the kids. I’ve done some things I shouldn’t have in hindsight, but it wasn’t anything damaging. But anywho, it was getting warm and I decided to jump in the pool that they have in the back yard. I went to change, took off my shirt and jumped in.

I need a tan. That was the general concensus among the kids and I. Oh, I’m a little chubby too. It’s the beer. I’m getting a lil’ belly. I’m letting myself go. Anyway, I need a tan. Didn’t get one though. Sat in the dirty pool for about an hour and a half to two hours or so. I came out, dried up and then tried to get a tan. I sat out finishing The Comedy Writer by Peter Farrelly of Dumb and Dumber and There’s Something About Mary fame. It was a recommendation from Stephanie. She said it was funny, and that it will give me an idea of what it is like to move out to Los Angeles to write and try to get into the industry. It was an okay book. I’m truding through Kurt Vonnegut’s Blue Beard now. Monica recommended it. She said that it captures the “persona” of an “artist.” Sounds interesting, but nothing is happening so far. I’m a 100 pages in.

Back to my usual fair of journal writing.

The great Ella wrote a very interesting entry the other day. She’s bored, bored with herself. She thinks that she’s boring. I could understand what she’s going through cause I am quite a boring chap myself.

But I just want to ask, who cares? Why should you let it bother you so much?

Maybe it is just me, but I am quite content with being boring. I live a boring life and honestly, there is nothing wrong with that. Nothing. Sure it gets me down sometimes that I’m not out their living it up, but I’m not that type of person. I’m the loner home bod that don’t mind being boring. In a way, I’ve given up trying to be interesting, given up on life in general. I’m just passing time.

When I first moved down here, I thought my whole life would change. I thought I would change. I wouldn’t be sulking all the time, or I wouldn’t be the shy little home bod, or that anti-social guy that never goes out. But I still am, well I changed a lil’ bit. Just a little. And I am okay with that.

I am a very boring guy. Honestly I am. I don’t do much of anything but sit in front of my computer reading about movies, writing, or searching for “erotic pictures” (porn in laymans terms). If I’m not in front of the computer, I’m in front of the television or on my bed reading. Wow, how exciting. Such a fulfilling life. And you know what, in a way it is a fulfilling life.

I think I find it hard to connect with anyone down here. I’m from another state, and I’m here all alone. Most of my friends down here grew up here, went to school here. So they are never alone. They have friends outside of work. All my friends are from work. They could go and hang out with their friends when they are fed up with work, talk about their past, what they are doing, blah blah blah.

I can’t do that. All I have is work and my love for movies. I watch a lot of movies, and there isn’t any one that I know personally who is a big of a cinephile than I am. They don’t find this movie talk that interesting. I don’t keep up with the news or any world events, so I have nothing interesting to add and honestly no one wants to talk about work outside of work. Most of the talks that my friends have while we go out have to deal with things that I’ve never experienced (relationships) or things I have very little or no interest in (sports) or things that are just beyond my concept, especially when I’m inebriated. I don’t bring anything new to the conversation, so I just sit there drinking my drink, listening to them talk and giggling to my delight.

They go out, they party. They could talk about the great concert that they went to, or the cool party that they just had or got down at. Or the weekend they had with friends from school. I’m not that type of person, I don’t go to concerts, and definitely not parties. Parties just don’t do it for me. To cramped and very impersonal.

I’m the type of person who likes to get to know a person, talk about personal stuff. That is the easiest way of getting to know people. But not everyone is that way. They put up their defenses, as they should.

I’m a boring person, yet people still enjoy my company. Go figure. Duwi and I have this great sibling type of a relationship where we would just cut each other down and be very vulgar. I’m actually really loud and “social” with her. I don’t feel threatened that I have to impress her so that she would like me. I don’t feel pressured of that because I’m not attracted to her in that way. She’s my sister. Hence how I act around her. Actually I’m very “social” with people I’ve gotten to know or are very comfortable with.

She thinks I’m gay, or bi atleast. Why? Simple, it is because I am not in a relationship, nor have I ever been in a relationship. She sees me as a smart, funny, hardworking, some what decent looking guy; he should be able to get a girl. But I’m not with anyone. So she thinks I’m a little queer.

Who could blame her, right? I had doubts myself growing up. It helped me explained why I was alone, but it is not true. I’m straight and alone. Unfortunately. It’s not that I want to be gay (not that there is anything wrong with it), it’s just that I’m STRAIGHT and ALONE.

I told her I never been in a relationship because when I was younger, I was very shy and quiet (well not that quiet) and I didn’t have the self confidence. But she doesn’t believe that I’m still that shy and quiet boy because of the way I behave around her and around others at work. In a way, I’m not. I’m not that shy anymore or that quiet (only around new people). It is that now, I don’t feel that I need to be with anyone. Sure, like I said I have my crushes and my bouts of unrequited love, but for the most part, I don’t need anyone right now. And I’m comfortable with that.

So with her, there’s a lot of gay jokes at my expense. But I don’t mind. I’ve been through it with Stephanie, and I knew her for over a year. With Stephanie there were pedifile jokes also.

Duwi, like Stephanie and Danielle before her, wants to take me out dancing. I don’t understand why they would want me to go dancing. I can’t dance; I have no rhythm. So there is not point, and I don’t like to dance. Do I have that look that says, “I need to dance”? I don’t think so.

Well, it is getting late, and I’m losiing focus on where I want to take things. Besides, I think I’ve written enough where I feel I don’t have to write for a few days atleast. Till next time.

Well it was the 4th of July weekend this past weekend. I didn’t really have anything planned. I was just thinking of spending it here down in L.A. on my own. It’ll be my first 4th down here, but it wasn’t the case.

I planned on staying down here because there is a superstition that I couldn’t visit any relatives until after 100 days of my father’s passing. But my cousins in Fresno were insistent that I go visit them over the weekend. I asked my mom and she was okay.

Overall, I enjoyed my weekend. I’ll get into specifics later. First I want to talk about my trip home.

It went well for the first hour and a half or so. Just sped along the long lonely stretch of highway, singing, thinking, and talking. Not much to worry about. Then traffic. I was past Bakersfield, about 10 miles from the Grapevine (which puts me about 100 miles from home) and there was traffic.

It was rough, bumper to bumper. No one was going anywhere. I got off the highway (99) and took this small farm road for about a mile to Texaco. Pulled in and it was a party. Cars were parked and camped out there to wait out the traffic. Little do they know that it was going to be a long long wait. I went in to shake my stick, do my business and I was gone.

I went back on the 99 again. There I am inching along with my windows down, sunroof open, and the faint aroma of manure in the air. Cars are pulled over on the side of the road for bathroom breaks and for camping out. It was hell.

I’m thinking to myself, as I am searching for a decent radio station, that it must be the holiday traffic. The highway is congested because of the merging of I-5 with 99. 45 minutes later I reached the point where 99 turns into I-5. There was still traffic. It didn’t let up. I kept going, trudging along inch by inch. Cars pulling over or playing the always bad game of switching lanes back and forth to catch the fast one. It never works. You’ll end up going at the same pace as everyone else. As I’m trudging along, my miniscule pea size bladder is filling up ounce by ounce as each second passes.

There were no rest stops or gas stations along the way anymore. I was stuck in the middle of the interstate with no room to merge. I had to find a bottle. Luckily for me I had a large bottle of water in the car, but it was full of water. Didn’t want to waste it. Reaching around in the back with my hands, I found it, the empty 16 oz. of Kirkland Signature bottle. I was relieved.

I knew that there is a rest stop at the top of the Grapevine, so I took my chances. An hour and ten minutes into the traffic jam, I reached the base of the Grapevine and is ready to climb the hill.

I scaled the hill. Inch by inch my little coupe climbed along with my fellow companions. With each inch, my bladder grows bigger and bigger. Pretty soon the pressure was unbearable, but I still held on. There were many battles being fought tonight my friends. Many. My car battling the traffic, battling the mammoth hill before me. I am battling the searing pressure in my groin, Yoshime battlles the pink robots. Many battles my friends.

As I ascended Kilamanjaro with my trusty car, which I just recently washed after almost of year, I see on the side of the road, dead cars. Cars who lost the battle. They are just sitting there, hood up, smoking. Unable to move. Their owners got it worse. They would have to scale K2 on foot to the summit to get water and walk back down. How I do not envy them and at the same time I’m telling my self that in five minutes I would have to pee in the bottle.

Twenty minutes and 50 dead cars later, I am halfway up Everest. My mind is playing tricks with me now. I look up at the dark sky and see these unexplainable unidentified lights all lined up in a row moving slowly across the night sky. In the back of my head I was thinking, great we are being invaded by aliens. That explains the traffic jam. Aliens, flying saucers making their descent and make contact. I’ll finally get a chance to meet aliens but I’ll have soiled shorts when I see them. It can only happen to me. By this time, I’m shaking, trying not to let a drop go. If it does, the dam gates will open and all is lost.

It is here that I realize how Slim Pickens must have felt in Kubrick’s classic Dr. Strangelove. Slim Pickens with that nuclear bomb between his legs, falling to the earth and going off. I am in that predicament. I have a nuclear bomb between my legs and it is about to explode folks. It would have been a diasater of epic proportions. Many lives will be lost. But unlike Slim boy, I wasn’t enjoying my trip.

Finally 2 hours after the traffic jam has started, I’ve reached 3/4 up the face of Everest and I see the cause of my pain. There were about 8 fire trucks parked at the side of the road. A large group of firefighters, each carrying their trusty axe, walk down the hill to their trucks. As I look up into the weird lights above, I realize that they were the lights on the firefighter’s hats. They were battling a wild fire. There were many battles tonight folks, many.

The cause of the traffic jam is man’s stupid curiosity to slow down and look at what is happening. It is like a car wreck. You cannot not look. You just have to, and it almost cost many lives. I can’t believe man’s stupidity to have to stop and see what is going on. Come on people, get a life, go drive on. A man has to pee here folks. It’s a life or death matter. The traffic picked up speed and I’m cursing aloud at mankind in general for their general stupidity.

10 minutes later, the pressure has been relieved, the bomb has been defused at the rest stop.

The rest of the trip was uneventful at best, how the trip should have been. I was driving along in nascar speed and fashion. Nothing was before me but the eerie red glowing orbs in front of me. 40 minutes later I was home. A typical 3 to 3.5 hour trip lasted 5 hours. What a night.

It’s been a while huh? Well here I am again.

Well I just finished writing an essay/review. A friend of mine is starting to put together his annual short film festival again. He is in need of reviewers. He made a list of qualifications for reviewers, but unfortuantely, I do not fit. So he made up a new one. I need to write a one page review of a movie. He wants to gauge if the reviewer is capable of looking at film critically. He knows I could because I talk to him about film in a critical sense all the time. So I wrote an essay. I did it on Punch-Drunk Love, directed by Paul Thomas Anderson of Boogie Nights and Magnolia fame.

Writing that essay just brings me back to college and film classes. Just bring back memories of dissecting film, trying to figure what the director is doing with each shot and each frame, or the hidden figurative meanings fo the film.

It is like junior year with the action film class. Listening to the professor talking about the homo erotic undertones and the gun as the phalus symbol of the action film genre. It makes sense and yes, the professor is correct in analyzing the film that way. It is just funny to listen to some of the students who just don’t get it. The students who just see film as a source of entertainment and that films mean nothing. That there is no hidden agenda or any social commentaries in the film. Most films are loaded with these little gems, and understanding and seeing that and seeing how the director portray that idea on film is one of the joys I have in watching films, in analyzing films.

For those of you who have a chance to take a film analysis class, I would suggest taking it. But a word of warning for those who just see film as entertainment. Once you cross that line to critically analyzing film, you can’t go back. Once you start watching films with a critical eye, it takes the fun out of watching film. So if you don’t want your viewing experience to be ruined by critical analysis, please don’t start analyzing films.

It also makes you a snob in the type of film you enjoy or don’t enjoy. Films like Charlie’s Angel 1 and 2, or Scooby Doo or even the new Matrix …I would probalby liked these films 5 or 6 years ago, but as I got older and have a better taste in film, I can’t watch these films anymore. They are trash. If you thought about going to watch Charlie’s Angel 2, don’t. It was bad, it was horrible. I wanted to kill myself so I wouldn’t have to watch it. That was how bad the movie was.

So anywho, I finished my essay and will be sending it away. I’ll post my essay below. Maybe those who have seen the movie may or may not agree with my analysis. I am very interested on your take of the film.

Paul Thomas Anderson’s Punch Drunk Love is a simple story about love and what it brings to life. To Anderson, love is an all-encompassing force that creeps into one’s quiet little life like a train wreck. This train wreck brings joy, music, and above all, personal growth.

The opening scene of the film sets up a major theme of the film, love appearing unexpectedly and bringing music to one’s life. The film opens on Barry Egan, played by Adam Sandler, framed small in the corner of the screen, surrounded by empty space. He is small, lonely, and pathetic. Barry, dressed in his new blue suit, is hard at work before seven in the morning. He stands outside in this quiet neighborhood, then out of the blue a van flips over in front of him and we are bombarded with the sounds of twisted metal. Another van pulls up and drops a harmonium in front of him and drives away. Love, music, appears out of the blue into his life like a freak storm. It isn’t until he meets Lena Leonard, Emma Watson, that he brings the harmonium from the streets into his office. From that point on, Barry slowly fixes the harmonium so it can play music, and fixes himself so he can love.

The personal growth that comes from love is the biggest theme of the film. Anderson showed this in Barry in two ways. The first is his constant running in the film. Barry is a man who is constantly running from his past. He never seems to outrun it. It always catches up to him. Barry is always framed in a telephoto lens running away and running towards the camera. With the telephoto lens, it always seems that he’s not going anywhere even though he’s always running. He never leaves the frame. This can also be seen when he is framed running horizontally. The camera dollies next to him, centering him in the frame. He never leaves the frame. This constant struggle of running from his past changes as he changes. It happens in the scene where he makes the big decision to go to Hawaii to find Lena. He made this choice on his own. In the scene, he walks down the terminal to board the plane. Like the others, it is shot in a telephoto lens and centered on Barry. Unlike the others, as he walks the scene slows down. He’s walking in slow motion. His past finally catches up to him and he accepts it. It is then that he disappears out of the frame; it is then that he finally moves on instead of living in the past. This also happens in later scenes where he runs to the hospital, centered in a telephoto lens, he runs past us, he runs out of frame. It is with his change, his acceptance of who he is, that he is able to break free from his prison and move on.

The other way that Anderson shows Barry’s personal growth due to love is by having him wear the same suit throughout the whole film. Anderson doesn’t want to attribute Barry’s change to his change in appearance, but through his contact with Lena. Anderson wants us to see that all circumstances in Barry’s life are the same but his relationship with Lena. At the beginning of the film, we can tell that Barry is a lonely man repressing his anger and hiding behind his mock ignorance. He would always answers “I don’t know” to any question his sisters ask about him so he doesn’t have to explain himself. He would always deny the truth and lie about what happens. As the film progresses and as he spends more time with Lena, Barry changes. He becomes bolder, more honest, and courageous. This is all on account to him being with Lena, him falling for Lena. It has nothing to do with him changing his appearance to make him feel better. It is because of his love for Lena, that Barry evolves and accepts himself and love himself.

Punch Drunk Love is a unique and different type of romantic comedy that focuses on the effects of love. Anderson shows that we are all capable of love; we are broken harmoniums that just need to be fixed up. Once fixed, we are able to play the sweetest music that love can offer. Love does miraculous things. It takes a lonely pathetic self-loathing man and turns him into a powerful hero. This crazy thing called love makes us do crazy things.

This is not the best essay I’ve written about film, and honestly, it didn’t turn out as well as how I had it in my head. I was trapped by the length of the review. My friend only wanted one page, this is two pages, so I was rushed. There was so much more I could of wrote about. For instance, the strange yet fitting pillow talk between Barry Egan and Lena Leonard.

I think this is enough for now. I shall return tomorrow and write about my weekend and what is happening in other aspects of my life like my photography class and seeing family again. Till then. TTFN

As Bob Dylan says, “Times are a changing.”

I want things to change. Things are going to change. But I am just waiting for them to change. I need to make the changes myself. Tomorrow is the day I will start (oh so I tell myself).

I’m starting my photography class tomorrow. What do I expect from it? I don’t know. Maybe it will help me take better pictures, hopefully. I will get to meet new people, make new friends, and maybe I won’t be afraid to go out and “live” as Kate puts it.

This class will make me have to go out more, cause I’m pretty sure as a assignment, I would need to get out of the cramped quarters and take pictures. I would have to go out into the world and capture what I see, capture time.

While I’m going out doing these things, might as well have fun with it. But see, my idea of what fun is is totally warped from what other people deem as fun. Me, I find enjoyment in the little things I do. It doesn’t take that much for me to have some fun. I do my own thing alone, whether it is shopping, going to take pictures, going to museums or the zoo by myself, watching movies, or even reading. Others’ idea of what fun is involves groups of people, loud music and cramped quarters.

I hate people, don’t like don’t like dance music, and I’m a little claustrophobic. Their fun is not my fun.

But I guess I need to change that. I need to go out and “rave.” (urghh like I ever will). I don’t know. This is my life. It is boring, not much happens, but this is my life. As sad as it sounds, and as lonely as it sounds, I enjoy it. It is a lifestyle that I’ve grown accustomed to. I’m a loner. Go figure.

If this class goes well, I think I will take more. Fiction writing class, screenplay class, a painting class, maybe the live nude model class also. I just want to do something artistic. I haven’t done anything artistic in while, and I’m going through withdrawal. I got an itch to doodle, to draw, to paint, but I never do. Don’t have the supplies.

I wrote a script a few weeks ago. I’ve sent it out and I have 3 reviews back. 3. They were generally good. They found it interesting. Lisa thought it was good (in the sense that it was much better than my other scripts). But is it really good. I enjoyed the story, what I tried to do. There were some problems of course. TWo of the reviews wer every constructive, yet they were contradictory. I guess I just need ot get more reviews in to see how others think of it. In the meantime, I’m just reading.

I haven’t gotten my copy of the new Harry Potter book yet. I’ll get mine tomorrow. So I’m reading Blue Beard and I finished The Lovely Bones last night or should I say this morning (2 am). Many loved and I mean loved The Lovely Bones, but I didn’t see why. Sure it was interesting, the approach unique. But the ending just didn’t do it for me. There was one aspect that just ruined the whole book. It was something I didn’t buy. It didn’t work for me.

I have my idea for the next script already. It is very personal, but I’m not sure if I’m ever going to write it. It is difficult, it is too personal, and it just wouldn’t sell. I need something more commercial. Something that will sell, but my mind doesn’t work that way unfortuantely.

So I guess I need to do something else. Lisa is trying to push me into short story writing. I never found any interest in doing short stories. The last one I wrote was in sophmore year in highschool. I never tried after that. Never thought about it while I decided to make a living off of my writings. I think I should. I just don’t know how. I don’t have the style, the prose, pizazz to write that way. I should try though.

That is my next step, take a writing class. That will come later, I’m sure. In the mean time, I need to figure out what I want to do with my life. Film is still in my dreams, but I need to think realistically for the moment. Find something that makes me happy, and I enjoy doing, that can support me. And I write on my free time. Maybe I’ll become a great short story writer and I could get publish. Oh how I dream.

I think I’ve reached a lazy point in my life. I haven’t been motivated to do anything lately. It’s been happening for the past couple of months actually. All I’ve been doing is sitting on my ass. Sure I’ve just finshed that script and is about to start that photography class, but I’m not talking about that. Those are new things, different thing that I don’t mind doing. What I’m talking about is about the basic little everyday things.

The main thing is the whole cooking thing. For the past couple of months (2 or 3) I haven’t cooked anything. Sure I’ve cooked some steaks or some burgers for dinner, but I mean real cooking. I love to cook. I use to cook a lot actually. Just make stuff up. Whatever sounds good in my head, and whatever just make sense and I just cook it. Most of the time it turns out all right, and others are just gag inducing. But the thing was, I use to cook, but now, I’m just a lazy bum. I’ve been spending a lot of money on food.

I’ve been ordering out lately. Pizza last night (even though the buy one get one free deal is great), it is still money. I just think when, why, how did I become so lazy.

Even the dishes are piling up in the sink. I usually either wash it that night, or the next day. But they’ve been sitting in the sink for days at a time.

I’ve even become lazy at work. Sure I do my work, but I’m not doing as fast I’ve use to. I’ve become really unmotivated to work. Waking up each day, dreading the day to come, knowing I have to deal with my boss. Oh…I just wonder why.

Things have seriously change for me. My drive is gone. My routine for writing has been ehhh at best. Last year around this time, I’ll be hard at work right now, writing. Finishing a script or something. But now, it’s not happening. I would use to write about this time of night to about 2 or 3 in the morning. What happened to those days? What just happened? Is this what it means to be old? You lose your drive to do anything.

Talking with Lisa today, we started to talk about her writing. She writes, or should I say, she use to write. She write short stories. Tall Tales and Tall Women is the title of the collection of short stories she was planning on writing. The concept was that these short stories will revolve around these certain number of characthers she’s came up in this particular universe. It is like the characters in the View Askew universe, for those who are in the know about the Kevin Smith films. It was along those lines. Anyway, she hasn’t written in a while, but she’s starting to think and flesh out the stories a little more. And honestly, they are good, they are interesting.

She has a writing style that I’ve never read before; grant it that I’ve been reading Clancy, King, and Koontz for practically my whole life. They aren’t really the female type. But anywho, I like her style of writing. It just has something to it, a certain flare if you will. She’s good. She’s a much better writer than I am, that is for sure. Many writers out there are much better than me actually, but that’s beside the point. Anywho, I’ve keep insisting that she writes again, cause I want to read her stuff. But she doesn’t. She’s not motivated.

This is disheartening to me. A great talent like her not wanting to write because she just doesn’t feel it.

Sometimes I wonder why do I bother doing the things I do. I mean, why? What’s the point? Not that anyone reads it anyway. Well some do, and I’m thankful. Ahhh, I don’t know what I’m trying to say.

Let’s move on.

I’ve been having these weird mood swings again. I’ll go from days of giddiness to days of downright dark manic depression. Tuesday was one of those days. It started out well. It started as one of those giddy days, then in the afternoon, the depression crept in. It lasted all day yesterday. It was bad yesterday. I didn’t want to deal with anyone, talk to anyone. I just wanted to lock myself in a hole. I actually thought about going home early because I broke down a couple times at work.

Those days are getting tougher and tougher to get through. But they just seem to creep up on me. I’m better now. Today was a good day. See, weird mood swings. Sometimes I think I’m going through PMS.

I am a weird guy. I know. I do weird things; talking with myself, I laugh at almost everything, I sing cheesey love songs to myself, I’m way to sensitive, very melodramatic at times. All things I could understand. It is within my weirdness. There is one thing that I find weird about me. I’m a jumpy guy. I get startled easily. I don’t drink coffee, so I’m not wired on caffeine. I don’t know why I’m so jumpy. I don’t get scared easily. I’m a little paranoid, sure, who isn’t, but jumpy? That is a weird one for me.

I don’t know why, but it just happens a lot to me. Like today, Kate scared the living crap out of me, and she didn’t mean to. Coming back from the bathroom, I was walking back through the hall and I turned into the doorway, and there she was, just standing there..and I got scared. Believe me when i say that Kate is not that scary. She’s quite easy on the eyes actually, but I jumped out of my skin. She’s done that to me a few times already. Kate has it in for me I’m telling you. She wants me dead, gone, eliminated. Each time she’ll tell me to relax, and I’ll joke around with her and say that she’s freaky. She is a little, just a little. But she called me a freak, because this was the biggest scare in a while.

Anyway, I really don’t know why. Maybe it is just because I didn’t expect her there. Maybe I was lost in thought and I didn’t see her until it was too late, or my peripheral vision is down, or I need to stop being such a “dedicated” walker, but I get jumpy. Most of the time it is unexpected movements, movements out of the corner of my eye that I wasn’t expecting. See, I really don’t pay attention to where I walk I guess. I’ll always look around but not see, or I’ll be lost in thought thinking of stupid little things. I never really pay attention. Maybe I just need to start paying attention.

Sometimes I would think it is because I keep thinking that I’m all alone all the time. I don’t think that there is anyone around cause I’m just alone. When I hear something or see someone out of the corner of my eye and I wasn’t expecting it, I’ll just jump.

People would laugh at me of course, cause it is just strange. I’m a scaredy cat. That’s what Amber called me once when she scared the crap out of me back in senior year of highschool. Ahhh, I just find it fascinating and strange that I am so jumpy. What is wrong with me? Maybe I have a weak heart. Who knows.

Well I wrote something tonight. Something long and personal, but for some reason, whether it was fate, destiny telling me that I can’t post that, it is too personal, or that it was just a stupid computer error, the computer froze and I lost that entry.

What was it about? It was honestly about me moving on.

I wrote about my sickness of falling for unattainable girls. It’s happened throughout my life. I’ll always find the pretty girls who are out of my league, the girls with boyfriends, the girls who just want to be friends, the girls who just have no interest in me whatsoever. I was masochistic.

I went on writing about them, then on to Amber and how she really hurt me in highschool. Yet we never went out. Is it possible to love, or to know what love is without ever being in a relationship? I’m not talking about the familial love, but LOVE love. Movie love. Romantic love. Is it possible?

Ehh..why bother answering the question.

Back to what I was saying, I had problems. I find these unattainable girls because it was safe. I didn’t have to go out with them, cause I know there is no chance for me to go out with them. None at all, so I have a reason to feel the way I felt. It gave me a reason to indulge in my pathetic-ism…that is not a word, but go with it.

Back then, I wasn’t a catch at all. Low self-esteem, self-confidence was nonexistent. I was shy. Your typical nerdy teen. I wasn’t very happy with myself..so I dream these impossible dreams and fall for these impossible dreams.

But times have changed. I’m not that kid anymore. There is still some of him in me, but not as much. I’ve changed, I’ve grown into a new man.

For the longest time when I was younger, up until I was in college, I have these crushes and I never acted on them. I never let them know, never asked them out. Well besides Amber, but that was different. I never did, never had the confidence to. Then in college, working at the Zoo Store, I did. I fixated on this girl who turned out to be a lesbian. If you are reading this, we should schedule a time to chat. I would really like to catch up.

But see, it was then when I changed. It was then, when I didn’t care about much anymore, and became a little more carefree. Maybe it was because I knew that I was going to graduate soon, and be on my own, but I started to loosen up a little bit. I started to drink, to socialize. That summer was the summer I started to change, that summer before senior year in college. I asked a girl out.

For the longest time after highschool, I thought I would never fall in that trap again, but I did. I keep on finding these girls that I fall for. I thought it would change after I moved down here, but yet, it happens again, which leads me to my current infatuation.

She’s changed my life. Well, let’s not go that far, but she’s one of the biggest reasons, one of the biggest factors that helped me become the person you know today. Thinking back on why I fell for her, I don’t know? She was pretty in my eyes, she was quiet (considering it took her 3 months to actually talk to me, and I was the one who initiated the conversation), she was a mystery. Of course I feel for her. I wanted to find out who she is, and I’ve gotten to do that. In the process, I fell for her. She was my first. She was the first girl that I actually try to pursue, not first in that department. Haven’t gone there yet. I asked her out time and time again, and time and time again she would decline. Well, it was a piss poor effor on my part, but I’ve learned to take rejection like nothing. I would just get back on the horse and do it again, later. At first it was difficult and devastating, but now..I don’t care cause I know she’ll never want to go there with me. It’s routine. Also, through the process, through our conversations, I’ve become less shy, more confident in speaking with girls, and with everyone else, I’ve become more social. I’ve become better.

I found out that we have a lot in common, similar interests, and I really enjoy her company. She makes me laugh. I can’t speak on her behalf, but I would like to think, actually I know she enjoys my company also. I would like to think that is all it takes for things to work out, but unfortunately life never works that way. Life is never that easy. The thing is I don’t think she’s interested in me in that way. There are some days that I think she is, but I’m really not sure. I’m bad at reading girls. Sure when she first knew me, I wasn’t much of a catch. Not that much different than I am now actually. Now I am some what average looking on a average day, good looking on others, and down right terrible for the rest, but I am damn funny, I can be charming whenever I want to be, I have a great sense of humor, I’m smart, and I’m genuinely a nice guy with a mean streak from time to time. Some what good qualities, right? All right, I’m no catch, but come on…give a man a break here.

Anywho, she’s just not interested. Sometimes I would like to think if our situations were different, she might reconsider. I would think that maybe she does like me, but if only things were different. Thinking about that, nah, that’s not it. She’s just not interested in me in that way. Maybe she’s afraid to jeopardize our friendship, afraid to take that risk. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t think I care anymore. I think I see that it is not worth it because she genuinely isn’t interested. It is a hopeless fight folks.

One thing that I find funny about this thing is that once I’ve gotten myself together, to accept who I am and became comfortable with myself. Once I’ve become confident about myself, comfortable with my looks, just love myself, I feel that I don’t need to be with anyone. I actually enjoy being alone. That silly notion of needing to be with someone to be normal, has gone out the window. That idea is gone, out of my head. I actually enjoy my independence.

I guess what I was trying to say or what I’m trying to say is that I need to move on. I see that things aren’t going to work out, and I think I just need to open my heart out to others, instead of saving it for her. It is kind of pointless to save it for someone who really doesn’t want to be in my heart. I will take our friendship and leave it at that, a great friendship and nothing more and be satisfied with it. I am greatly satisfied with it. My friendship with her is one of the most important things I have down here. I’ll forever cherish it. But it is time for me to move on, to find another person who might be more receptive to my charms. And I think I may have already done that.

I think I will just let my feelings for her die a quiet death like how she would like it, and leave it at that. I’ll just let the next one creep up on me. I think it may already have.

..procrastinating.

Like I said, I am supposed to have my script done tomorrow night for you all. Which means I should have finished it tonight and proofread it tomorrow and revised anything that didn’t work. Well I usually don’t revise, especially the first draft cause I actualy revise as I go, so basically I just need to proof it over when I’m finished. But here I am, procrastinating, sitting in front of my computer, actually lounging in front of my computer, listening to my library of mp3s, not writing a word.

I have everything in my head. There is about 6 scense left to write in about 10 pages. I’m on page 18 now, yet, I can’t write. That’s how it usually is with me. Even with the script I’m rewriting, everything is in my head. I know how it should go, what to write. I could see the movie in my head, scene for scene, but I can’t write it. I can’t put it into words. I’m not inspiired, or maybe I’m scared to finish it. Don’t know why I’m scared. Or maybe I think I’m a terrible writer. Even now, I still have problems with simple grammar. Bad grammar, that is my downfall. Monica and I joke about me taking grammar classes at the local community college. That is how bad my grammar is. It could be that, or I’m scared. And i think it is because I’m scared.

I’m scared that it will not live up to my expectations, or that no one will like it. Like I said last night, I’m sending it to a producer and a friend of mine has already produced, shot, and directed a short. I’m sending it to him also, and another friend who write scripts. Also, I’m sending it to friends that never read my stuff before. It is quite daunting to send friends you hardly know, or just send stuff that you like, or even love to people to read. I’m just afraid to hear what they think. I’m just afraid to get a bad review.

From what I have, I have to say, this is the best thing I’ve written. That is saying a lot. The dialogue is cheesey and bad, yes; that is my major weakness in scripting. But I have to say, it is not as bad as the dialogue in my features. Structure, there is actually structure. The script actually builds up to a climax. The structure is fine, everything is fine, but I’m still scared, cause it is so close to being finished.

Again, I thought of this script months ago, and really thought it through, well not all the way through. I thought about the major plot points and certain scenes and how they should happen, and there are other stuff that I just added to make the script flow better and build more tension. Other than that, not much have changed from then, except the ending, but the essence of the piece is still there from the beginning. An observation of a family. This one actually lived up to my expectations without changing much. My other scripts changed as I went through the writing process; I thought of something else to add, or took it in another direction than I originally intended. This one I stuck with it.

Since conception, I knew this would be the first film of mine that I will produce and shoot. I just don’t know when, but I knew this will be my piece, my calling card. Mr. Carver estimated with his film that it is $1,000 a minute. My script is aiming to be 25-30 minutes, which mean big bucks. I don’t have that kind of money, but I have faith that something will happen and it will get made. Keep in mind that this is only the first draft. To me, everything that I placed in the script has a purpose, is there and cannot be excised. That is the mentality of a writer; it is tough to cut what you write and love.

I know that there will be subsequent drafts that will slim down the script; tighten it up a little bit, to make it flow better. So the costs might drop down a few bucks. Here’s to hopeing.

So I guess I’m writing now to get whatever procrastination I needed to get out of my system. As long as I could get two or three pages out tonight, that will leave me with the 3rd act. Five pages to do tomorrow and I’ll be finished, and my script will face the critics.

Maybe I’m just not depressed enough to write.

I have a mo-hawk today. I feel cool.

…laundromat.

I met a independent film producer. She mainly produces shorts. She has her own production company, she’s gone to school, blah blah blah. She’s done stuff, produced many student shorts and other things. We talked.

Well I was going through my romantic comedy script to refresh my memory of what I wrote about. I found an ad the other day looking for a romantic comedy script, and I took my shot and replied to it. They haven’t asked for my script yet, and I’m not sure if they will, but I sent them a description of my script. It is Sleepless in Seattle meets Serendipity with a touch of Office Space. I finished the script last July and sent it to everyone to peruse. It was submitted to Project Greenlight and there were some reviews of the script. Out of 7 reviews, only two gave it medium scores, the others thought it was terrible. Some say it was pretentious and show offy. Of the 2 decent reviews, many liked the beginning and the ending, but I lost them in the second act. I see the problem, and will fix it up eventually. But anyway, I have to sign a release form that protects the production company, giving them the right to look at my script. They need a description of the plot, and so I need to go through my script. I got one of my character’s name wrong when I wrote them the brief description. I should have looked through it last night when I was responding to the ad.

Anyway, I’m reading the script, to refresh my mind, and this lady walks by and asks if I’m reading a screenplay, and I said yeah. She asked if I wrote it, and of course, yes. Anywho we just started talking, she told me her story, and how she went to film school and thought that it was a waste of time. She started a production company 3 years ago. There were good times and there were bad times.

Her website is http://deewrightproductions.tripod.com

But anywho, we talked, and she encouraged me to keep writing. To write everyday. Writing is like playing basketball, you have to keep writing to learn the craft, and to get better. And eventually, through hard work and perseverance, I will make it someday. These are things I’ve heard of course, mainly from Mr. Carver, and I’m going to try to stick to that. Write everyday, and everyday I will. She told me it doesn’t have to be a script that I’m writing, but just to keep writing. I guess this is what my journal is for.

I told her I’m working on a short right now and I’ll send her a copy to look over when I’m finished. I should have the short finished on Saturday, hopefully. Anywho, I think I’m going to send it in to her to read. Nothing may come of it, or she may steal it (being the cynic that I am). I don’t know, and at the moment, I don’t care. It’s a big risk, but its a chance if something does come out of it.

Then something disappointing came to my attention.

On the drive home I decided to pull into Jack-in-the-Box to buy some dinner. You know my love for the $0.99 menu. I pulled up, and what do you know, the Jumbo Jack is no longer $0.99. It is $1.29. I felt jipped. The Jumbo Jack is a staple of mine from Jack-in-the-Box because it is a decent burger, and it is cheap. So I bought a crappy Bacon Ultimate Cheeseburger meal instead. How disappointing. So now, I am officially retracting from my list of things that makes me happy, the Jack-in-the-Box $0.99 menu. I don’t think there will be anything that will replace that. Atleast I still have the Albertson’s fried chicken.

These past couple of days have been very eye opening for me. Well I wouldn’t say eye opening like, wow, that blows my mind and such, but I would say that it was refreshing. A friend of mine told me things that I never thought she would. What she told me really made me understand her better, to see where she’s coming from. It was very personal. I’m sure it was tough for her to tell me what she did, and if you are reading this, I want to thank you for it. See, it isn’t that bad to share is it?

It helped put things in perspective, well kind of. Hearing what she told me, and thinking about what I had, it really opened my eyes to see how grateful I should be for what I had growing up, It just blows my mind to hear her say these things, and me just not comprehending it because I never experienced these things. It helped me understand why she’s the way she is.

Also yesterday, I had a really pleasant conversation with another friend. She made me realize that yes, I am a cynic like the great Ella said I was. I was just to blind to see. It’s funny how I never saw any of these things, my cynicism, my stubborness, until they were pointed out to me. For the longest time last year Stephanie was frustrated with me because of my stubborness. Being stubborn, I told her that I wasn’t stubborn. But now I see that I am. I take after my father.

Like now, with my friends help, I actually understand what it means to be a cynic. I guess I never really understood the definition, or the concept of being cynic. Now I do, and yes I am a cynic. I want to apologize to my friend and say you are right, I am wrong.

Well talking with my friend yesterday was great. I rarely get to talk to her because she works at a different part of the office. In our short (about 1.5 hours) conversation yesterday, I see her differently now. I guess I see her flaws and her vulnerability because I see her and understand her better. She helped put things in perspective. Before, she’s always been this unapproachable person, a person I work with, a person I know I would like to get to know better. She was a mystery. Before I would just think of her as the beautiful girl with everything going her way. (As you can probably tell, I put everyone I like on a untouchable pedestal. She has no flaws and is perfection) That there isn’t any kind of internal conflict or any troubles like those she told me. I didn’t see that, or wouldn’t have known until she told me. It was totally shocking to hear that, especially from her. I mean, wow, here’s a girl, out of my league like the other one is, and she has problems just like me. I was very surprised to hear her tell me what she did (sure I may be self deluding myself to believe that I’m special and she is just telling me and no one else, but in actuality she tells everyone this) and so soon.

We barely know each other, we rarely have talks. Well I wouldn’t say we barely know each other..we know enough. When we talk, most of the time it will be work related or the “Hi, How are you”s, the formalities. To me, what she told me are very personal things, well atleast, I think they are personal. They were things about herself, how she thinks of herself, and how she sees herself. I guess I’m just very surprised to hear her tell me these things when we barely know each other and so soon. I mean it took me a while to get any thing personal from my current infatuation. Well, maybe she’s just reciprocating because of the things I tell her. Everyone knows I’m a very open person, and I’ll tell you very personal things about me. Maybe she’s just returning the favor, or she feels comfortable with me. Who knows. She’s a girl, and I know jack diddly squat about them.

So, slowly I am getting to know her, and hopefully I could get to know her better. But at the moment, I am content with what she told me.

Anywho, I need to start finishing my script. I’m halfway done. Yeah. You all should receive a draft sometime this weekend or early next week.

I’m writing again, I’m also cleaning. Well I haven’t started cleaning yet, but slowly getting into the mood. That can only mean one thing. I’m depressed.

It snuck up on me Friday night I think. I’m not sure. Just know that I woke up on Saturday morning depressed.

I don’t know why I’m depressed though. It still could be my father, or it could be something else. Maybe I know I need to start writing again so I worked myself into being depressed. Or I could be thinking about my father. Who knows how my mind works. I sure as hell don’t.

Well I’m working on a short right now. I got this idea for a script a couple of months ago, but I held it off cause I want to finish my rewrite of the first script that I did. But that will take forever cause I’ve lost my train of thought on that one. So I guess I’ll just start with this short. I’m aiming for 30 pages or shorter. I’ll send it out to you all when I’m finished, hopefully.

Ohhh…what is troubling me. I think it is the weather. It’s been cloudy down here for the past 2 weeks or so. It’s not pretty at all. Sure I love the rain, I love cloudy days, but to some extent. My moods are really dependent on the weather. Up north, I was depressed a lot mainly because of the lack of sun. Every day is a gloomy day, so I was in a gloomy mood. Now it seems that every day down here is a gloomy day.

I need to do something. Photography class isn’t coming fast enough.

I went to my friend’s son’s first birthday party this Saturday. I enjoyed myself. I had a good time. I was out and about, socializing with a bunch of people I don’t know. Not bad for me. I’ve taken some pictures. Just got them back.

I suck. None of them look any good. Well maybe one or two, but that is it. Gosh, I really need help. Hopefully the photography class is worth it.

I ask this question to this empty void. Am I a responsible person? Do I know what is right and what is wrong? Don’t I know how to take care of myself? I would like to think so. I would like to think I am capable of taking care of myself without anyone worrying about me. I would like to know that when I’m drunk, or when I’m incapable of driving, I wouldn’t drive.

I got a call from my mom yesterday. She’s working on the weekends, against my wishes of course. I guess it is her way with dealing with things, as mine is with writing. But she doesn’t trust my judgments in making friends. She thinks I drink because the people I associate with forced her nice little innocent boy into drinking. I did this mom. I started drinking because I wanted to drink. I made that choice on my own, without any pressure from anyone. And the kicker is, I started before I came down here. I started in college.

So like I said, I was at the party, and she called. She asked where I was and I told her. She then proceeded to give me an inquisition on who this friend is, and then went on to tell me not to drink and not to drive. She gave me the guilt trip that I needed to take care of myself because my dad’s not here anymore.

I guess I just want people to stop babying me. Grant it I’m not the smartest guy or I make the right decisions all of the time, but I would like to think that she trusts me and that I’m responsible.

Actually I think there is a conspiracy between my uncles to get me to go home. Out of the blue, I got a call from two of my uncles today. I guess they wanted me to touch base with them and to see if I’ve been calling my mom. Well I haven’t called, because she’s been calling me. But I do intend to call every week. I’m not that cold hearted. Maybe I am; maybe they see that and that is why they are calling. One of the uncles proceeded to lecture me on drinking. Things I’ve heard and understand and know. I’m getting babied all over.

Do I seem that fragile to you all. Am I about to break and I don’t know it? Sure I believe that for some reason I’m to in touch with my feminine side, and that I am very sensitive (I’m probably the most sensitive guy I know, crying at movies and commercials for pete sake. I need help.), but I’ve always believed that I’m a strong person. Aren’t I? Or am I just deluding myself into believing that again.

I was asked this question last night. Julie asked if I am any closer to move home. I don’t know. I told her I haven’t thought about it in a while, and honestly I haven’t. I’m trying not to think about anything, or it. But if I must, I will.

Am I going to move home? At the moment, no. I need my time down here. I need my time alone, away from family, away from the pressures of everything. I want to keep my distance. I just don’t want to be smothered. I want my time to think about things, to digest things, to reevaluate things. Ask me in a couple months, and sure, I will probably say the same. In the next year, I don’t know. That is just to far away. I don’t want to think so far away anymore. I’ve been doing that all my life. It is time for me to stop and focus on now. And now, I don’t want to move home. I just don’t.

I’ve been going through my friend’s journal. She posted something on my birthday about me:

12:39 pm – I’m getting older
Today is my darling Phongielson’s 24th birthday, which means that in exactly one month, I will be 24 too.

I did the calculations today, and realized that Phong and I have known each other for half of our lives now. It’s startling, because I’ll forever think of Phong as the pipsqueak in 7th grade health class with the cute voice, or the cynical young man I walked with at high school graduation. I never thought of the fact that someday, I will know Phong the husband and father, or Phong the old man. When did this aging thing happen?? And what can I do to make it stop?

One part really struck me as fascinating and odd. I’m cynical. I’ve never thought I was cynical. I’ve always thought that I am very idealistic. Am I really cynical? I really don’t think so. Thinking back, thinking about how I was. I really can’t see that.

Well it is said that other people see you more clearly than you could because you are biased. You are self-indulgent and refuse to see the way you really are; see your flaws. You work it in your mind to see yourself in one way and that way in particular. I think of myself as an idealist. Do I seem like an idealist to you, or is my friend correct and that I am a cynic?

If that is the case, then I am living a lie. Everything I see about myself, everything I think I am is all a lie. Was I truly becoming happy? I believed that I was. But reading this, thinking about it, I am doubting myself. So those times I was in highschool, manic; was I really truly depressed? Or was I imagining things.

I don’t know any more. I don’t know anything. Wouldn’t it be nice to not remember anything, just to forget, forget, forget. No memories, no doubts, no thoughts. You just wake up refreshed, learning everything again. Start each day new with that person you hate and not knowing you hate them, or that crush, and seeing her totally different again. Thinking that you are falling for them for the first time and not realizing you did this before and got yourself burned time and time again. Oh to forget.

I want to forget. I want to forget everything, everyone. Then I can truly be myself. I can truly be a hermit.