The Boy In Blue

GEORGE EADS
 TV Guide Magazine, March 27th, 2009.

Need I say more?


(source*)

* edited with APs-CS4. Auto-tone. Crosshatch Filter, SL4/Sh4/St1.

Ghost of Christmas Past

I look up at the clock and realize, Oh, it's already 12:13AM.

My first thought is Jesus, I need to get my ass to bed.

And then, with a nonchalant, matter-of-fact tone, Oh, it's Christmas.

To think, around this time, some odd years ago I would've given anything for the energy to be able to make it to midnight just so I can experience the fortune of being able to open a beautifully-wrapped gift I had already picked out beforehand and purchased under my strict direction by my mother or father.

Nevertheless, being granted the privilege to unwrap that present and call it my own on the beginnings of Christmas Day held such joy in my younger years— something not found all too often in my later years.

The surprise, the novelty— it's all worn off since I earned the capability of being able to buy my own luxuries and treat myself to my own gifts.

My world-weary attitude of having seen it all and done it all before has left little opportunity for surprises, let alone diminish my ability to find the novel quality of life's precious but all-too-overlooked experiences.

I miss being that little boy sometimes.

Cold Feet

"A term used to characterize apprehension or doubt strong enough to prevent a planned course of action.

It is used to show when someone has lost the courage to do something."

(source)

Yeah. Something like that.

VII – The Chariot

"This key signifies victory for the triumphant king who has conquered on all planes, particularly those of the mind, science, and growth. The chariot stands for the human personality, which can be a vehicle for the expression of the Self.

If his powers of observation are faulty, superficial, or fearful, the resulting sequence of subconscious reactions is bound to be destructive.

Key 7 means rest and victory, self-discipline and stability. The conqueror may not yet have conquered himself. Here we find both will and knowledge, but there is more desire to attain than proven power for real attainment.

Some occultists divide the Tarot Keys into three groups of seven cards each. In this case the number 7  indicates the Fool has reached an outer triumph and is ready to learn further lessons in the next seven cards.

Divinatory Meaning: Triumph, success, control over the forces of nature–thus triumph over ill health as well as money difficulties or enemies of any sort, including one's own lower animal passions. This is a card of those who achieve greatness. It may also indicate travel in comfort. Mental and physical powers should lead to fulfillment.

Reversed: Decadent desires, possibility of ill health, restlessness and desire for change, an unethical victory."*

 

After a long period of spiritual distance and neglect, I decided to break out the Tarot cards once again to help me figure out where I'm going to go with my life now, what's next in my journey after finally putting an end to the latest chapter of my book.

I managed to pick up the entirety of the deck of cards from the black box that my (late) Chanel sunglasses came in, save one.

After setting down the cards I had grabbed, I picked up the remaining card left behind in the box.

When I turned it over, I involuntarily gasped—it was like being shocked by electricity.

Shocked by the hand of Fate.

- - -

I'm scared.

Now that it's over and done with, what now?

What's next?

I thought I knew what I was doing. I thought I had a plan.

I thought I had something for sure, something so solid in its certainty that nothing could have shaken me out of my resolute determination.

Call it cold feet, but now it feels as if the cracks I've managed to overlook thus far in the foundations of my strategies have gradually spiderwebbed to a point too far past the limits of denial.

What the hell do I do now?

* Gray, Eden. A Complete Guide to the Tarot. New York: Bantam, 1972. Print.

So Tell Me When You Hear My Heart Stop

Lykke Li // Possibility

This song has been haunting me for the past few days.

L.I.F.E.: 120503/102503

OVER BLACK.

L. (V.O.)
I love you.

CUT TO:

INT. A.'S APARTMENT – BEDROOM – DAY

A. (24, dark features, ruggedly handsome) sits on his bed, a half-packed suitcase beside him. He is absolutely dumbfounded.

L. (16, young, but an old soul) looks back at him expectantly after having released a heavy burden from his shoulders.

A LONG, AWKWARD SILENCE fills the room.

A CLOCK TICKS AWAY in the background. Six, seven, eight . . .

L.
Well? Say something.

A. struggles to find the words, STAMMERING.

A.
I-I-I don't . . .
(beat, incredulous)
What?

L.
I said I love you.

A. looks as if he's reeling in shock, still SILENT. His gaze is unfocused, jaw slightly open as he tries to digest this.

L. looks back at him, pained at A.'s lack of expression, the lack of returned sentiment.

L. (CONT'D)
Jesus, A.!

He brings a hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes. He begins to pace.

L. (CONT'D)
You know what? Forget I said
anything. I'm . . .
(heads for the door)
I gotta go. I gotta get outta
here. Forget I said anything.

A. finally gathers his bearings. He immediately bolts up and goes after L.

A.
No, L., wait!

He catches him at the door, puts himself between it and L. to keep him from leaving.

A. (CONT'D)
Wait, okay? Wait a sec. Let's . . .
Let's talk about this.

L. looks away, embarrassed.

L.
Just forget I said anything.

A.
I can't- I can't just do that, L.
Not after you drop a bomb like that!

L. looks back at him in disbelief.

L.
(hurt)
"A bomb like that?"

A.
You know what I mean. You gotta
admit, that came pretty far out of
left field.

L.
You know I don't understand your
sports analogies.

A.
It was just . . . pretty unexpected,
is all. Can you blame a guy for
being caught off guard?

L.
(offended, incredulous)
"Pretty unexpected?" Have the last
few weeks meant NOTHING to you?!

A. looks back at him in shock, not realizing till now what the last few weeks meant to L. He sinks back onto the bed, stunned.

A.
L., look. We were just . . .

He STAMMERS for an answer.

L.
We were just what?

A.
Just . . . fooling around.

Not the answer L. was looking for. He looks as if he's just been slapped in the face AND punched in the gut, ready to crumple with one more hit.

L.
(wry)
Deeper, A.

A.
What?

L.
Twist the knife deeper, why don't you.

Now A.'s shock turns into a shade of frustration. He leaps out of bed and starts pacing the room frantically.

A.
What did you expect, L.? You're . . .
You're my best friend's ex-boyfriend!

L.
What does that have to do with
anything?

A.
Don't you get it, L.? It's wrong.

L.
Yeah, yeah. I got it. You've only
been saying it was wrong every time
YOU called ME up in the middle of
the night, every time YOU brought
ME to your bedroom, every time YOU
slept with ME --

A.
Don't you dare victimize yourself
here, L.! It takes two to tango.

L.
But YOU were the one saying it was
wrong even though YOU were the one
initiating it all, so that makes YOU
the hypocrite, A.

A. sinks back onto the edge of the bed, defeated.

A.
L., we can't -- We can't just . . .
We can't just do this.
(beat)
We can't.

He looks up at L. with pleading eyes, which L. meets with a cold stare.

L.
So, what? It was fine for us to hang
out together without anyone knowing,
fine for us to be alone together in
the middle of the night, fine for us
to just keep seeing each other and
sleeping with each other as long
as we kept believing it was just
"fooling around" and nothing more?
Because, God forbid, one of us might
actually care about the other one
as more than just a fuck buddy and
might actually have real feelings?

A. looks at his feet, caught.

A.
(muttering)
Something like that.

L.
I don't believe you!

He kneels before A., letting his desperation show as he grabs for A.'s hands to hold in his own.

L. (CONT'D)
A., I love you.

A. wrestles his hand away.

A.
L., don't.

He leaps to his feet. Searching for a distraction, he continues packing, grabbing anything in sight and tossing it into the suitcase on the bed.

L.
So, that's it?
(A. ignores him;
on the verge of tears)
A., please!

A. stops packing long enough to give him a reproachful glance before redirecting his gaze to his hands.

A.
I can't –- I can't do this right
now, L. I'm sorry. I just can't.

L. looks at him, defeated. A. continues to pack in silence; L. doesn't stop him.

CUT TO:

INT. A.'S BEDROOM – EVENING (TWO MONTHS AGO)

A. sits on the edge of the bed in the dark room, naked. He looks over his shoulder at L., sleeping soundly beside him.

A somber look flashes across his face.

AFTER A MOMENT, A. gets up and heads into his bathroom.

CUT TO:

INT. A.'S BATHROOM – CONTINUING

A. stands over the sink, splashing his face with cold water.

HE AVOIDS MEETING HIS EYES IN THE MIRROR.

CUT TO:

INT. A.'S BEDROOM – CONTINUING

A. sits back down onto the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands.

L. stirs awake.

L.
Hey.

A. barely GRUMBLES a reply. L. sits up, concerned.

L. (CONT'D)
Everything okay?

He reaches out to touch A.'s shoulder, who only brushes it off.

L. (CONT'D)
(confused)
Hey --

A.
Let's get you back home.

He rises off the bed and gets dressed, AVOIDING L.'s EYES.

CUT TO:

INT. A.'S CAR – NIGHT (LATER)

A. and L. sit in the car in silence outside L.'s apartment complex.

L. shoots A. a glance out of the corner of his eye.

L.
Are you okay? You haven't said
a thing since we . . .
(beat)
Are you okay?

A.
(doesn't want to talk)
Yep. Fine as rain.

L.
Fine as pie?

A.
You know what I meant.
(beat)
Are you okay?

L.
Yeah. I'm fine. It's you I'm
worried about.

A.
(through gritted teeth)
I told you I'm fine.

L. struggles to accept this.

L.
Right. Okay.
(beat)
Well, then I guess I'll . . .
see ya around.

He starts to exit the car when A. SPEAKS UP.

A.
We shouldn't have done that.

L. looks back at him, confused and a little hurt.

L.
What?

A.
What we did . . . We shouldn't
have done that.

L.
Why?
(beat, small)
Was it bad?

A.
No. No, L., it was . . . Good.
Great, even. But . . . It was
wrong. We shouldn't have . . .

L.
Fucked?

The word stings A. a little.

A.
Yeah.

 

I can't bring myself to finish this, because:

1) it hurts too much to try and relive, and
2) it's already faded from memory.

This is all I'm gonna leave with for now.

Call It Off

Maybe I would've been something you'd be good at.

- Tegan & Sara

T2M #4

1122– 235PM
You aren't the kind of guy who asks for help when he needs it the most.

You know it; everyone knows it.

You're in your own words a "true friend" because you rise to action when a call of duty is sounded.

You make yourself available, you offer your help, you don't stop until the job is done.

That's the kind of person you are, and you have to trust that they know it.

However, they have something you don't: the ability to ask for help when they need it.

How can you fault them for not coming to your side when you don't even let it be known that you need them there?

You cannot be angry at anyone in this situation, not even at yourself, as much as you are looking for someone to blame, a scapegoat to target.

It's not your fault you find it difficult to speak your wants and needs from other people because it has been what you were taught.

The only thing left in this situation is re-learning that it's okay to ask for help when you need it.

By accepting the fact that you cannot be in control of everything, you will make it easier to be able to express your needs.

Just trust that they'll be there to help you fill them.

- - -

A quote comes to mind that sums all that up perfectly.

Please swallow your pride
If I have things you need to borrow
For no one can fill those of your needs
That you don't let show

If there is a load you have to bear
That you can't carry
I'm right up the road
I'll share your load
If you just call me
-- Bill Withers / Lean on Me

Amen to that. Thank you, Glee.

 

 

just for memory's sake: #3.
1001 – 508PM
Get over yourself.

This is not  about you. This has nothing to do with you.

Your role here is strictly to be his support, not to be noticed or have everyone bask in your glory.

Let him have his turn; lord only knows he deserves it.

And most importantly he deserves to have you push your own ego aside and just be the best friend he needs right now.

To Judge A Book By Its Cover

My favorite book cover of all time:

 Forever: A Novel by Pete Hamill

The story was interesting enough (it's the "inspiration*" behind FOX's cancelled [quelle surprise] show New Amsterdam), but it was the cover more than the jacket synopsis that compelled me to buy this book.

 

 

* unofficially. you be the judge.

Words of Wisdom

"Get ready, then," she says, slightly annoyed. "I'm already late."

He runs to his room and throws on his peacoat and cashmere scarf, two of the most prized possessions in his wardrobe, over the gray sweater and jeans he's already wearing.

He shoves his boots over his feet, already adorned with white athletic socks which he knows is both A) unfashionable, and B) unpractical for the walk back home, but he's in a rush—no time to waste tying frivolous laces while she waits for him in the car.

He hears her honking and runs out of the room, stopping only to turn first the television set off, then the cable box. No point in wasting more money on electricity that doesn't even go to good use.

He fumbles with his house key as he tries to lock the door. The cold air comes as a shock to him—a foreshadow of what to expect on his walk of shame back home.

He pats his coat to reassure himself that he brought a lighter with him. He didn't. Luckily he had left a matchbook in the small interior pocket beforehand for situations such as this.

He gets in the car and they pull out of the driveway.

"Where are you going?" he asks her idly, just to make conversation as they make a quick trip to the liquor store down the block.

"Dave & Busters," she replies. He stays quiet, trying to bite back the bad experience he had there a few years ago. No need to share an upsetting story with someone eager to get the night started.

They make it to the gas station faster than he expected.

She hands him a twenty. As he takes it from her, a bit of guilt consumes him.

"Camel Crushes?"

She nods affirmatively as she texts away on her phone.

He walks into the  liquor store, recognizing the same man behind the counter. It's always the same man, looking bored, looking like he'd rather be at his friend's party, rather be anywhere then there to help out with the family business on a Friday night.

Always the same man behind the counter every time he walks in to indulge in one of his many vices.

The man is on the phone, irritated. "I don't know, the black one," he grumbles. They lock eyes as he enters. He gives him a familiar nod as he continues his unpleasant conversation over the phone, already reaching towards the cigarette stand.

"Marlboro Menthol 100s, and a pack of Camel Crushes," he tells him. "Please."

The man behind the counter produces the familiar green and white pack, plus a small, black one to pair the coupling.

He hands him a twenty; he hands him his change and gives him another nod.

"Thanks. Have a good one."

Proper social etiquette is something he values, especially when dealing with people who have something he wants.

He returns to the car and drops off the black cigarette pack and change back to her through the window.

"Okay, get in," she commands.

He shakes his head. "Naw, I can walk back."

She has genuine concern in her eyes. He doesn't like it. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I do it all the time. I'll be fine." She doesn't believe him, so to assure her he adds, "Besides, you're already late."

Good enough reason, at least she thinks so. She shrugs and exits the car back onto the main street. He's already turned away and walked off in the opposite direction.

He stops to open the fresh pack, takes out a cigarette and lights it with a match. A deep breath brings smoke into his lungs, along with relief.

He exhales it back out, taking the feelings of guilt with it.

He tightens the scarf around his neck, holds his coat closer to his body to protect him from the night chill as he makes his way back home.

As he walks the dark and sullen sidewalk, he can't help but ask himself how he ended up here—alone.

They're only going to fail you, a voice says in the back of his head.

Don't give yourself away. They only disappoint.

He explores what this small, thoughtful voice is saying as he continues walking. He takes a deep drag off his cigarette as he ponders.

"It's true," he suddenly says aloud, slightly surprising himself. "They only let me down."

Encouraged, the voice continues. Why bother trying anymore? They only make you sad.

He gives heed to the voice he hears, as if it's coming from all around him, until he makes his way closer to home, where the sound of a not-so-distant football game begins to drown out everything else around him, even the voice inside his head.

The last thing he hears as he makes his way through the threshold of his home strikes a cord within him.

It's okay to give up now.

Past Life

05-0419:

Ahh, then I went home all dejected-like because I was depressed about the gelato and I didn't get my Ringside CD, so I crawled into bed and slept for. like. three hours.

Oh, and before I went inside the house, I decided that it would be nice if I had a cigarette, so I smoked one out on the patio until I realized Papa had been watching me from the glass doors.

Then he's like, You're smoking?! When did you start smoking?! and blah blah angry I-care-about-your-health cakes.

But I was like, Whatever. and trudged upstairs, slamming my door dramatically before locking it, of course.

How cliché. When did I turn into this angry, emotional teenager with issues who stopped talking to everyone and put on this sour face and started hating life and everyone in it?

What an unexpected change from the boy who so very much wanted to be loved.

(source)

Ballad

Meat Loaf – I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)

(lyrics)

THE HILLS: Can You Meet Me Halfway?

BLACK TITLE CARD: "THE HILLS"

LEO (V.O.)
Previously on "The Hills..."

CUT TO:

INT. THE X – MORNING

LEO and the rest of the VISUAL TEAM are hard at work executing a large floorset throughout the store. It's all about BLACK, WHITE, AND RED, and VERY PROPS-HEAVY -- it screams HOLIDAY.

LEO (V.O.)
I was hard at work with the new
holiday floorset, meaning more
hours, and more money.
(beat)
Unfortunately, more hours for
my bank account meant less hours
for my social account, which,
like my bank account, was already
nearing bankruptcy.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE X – DAY (LATER)

Leo exits the store after a long day. He's texting.

C.U. – LEO'S PHONE

TO: CHRISTIAN
Sorry I'm late. Just left work. You still free to hang?

He presses SEND.

CUT TO:

INT. TROLLEY – LATER

The sun is already setting. Leo looks at his phone.

C.U. – LEO'S PHONE
The screen reads 1 NEW MESSAGE. He opens it.

FROM: CHRISTIAN
Busy running errands. Sorry. :(

Leo SIGHS and shuts his phone. He shifts his gaze out the window, annoyed.

CUT TO:

INT. BAR – NIGHT (LATER)

Leo sits alone at the bar. The BARTENDER hands him a double-vodka tonic.

Leo toasts the empty stool beside him somberly before taking a long swig.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE X – DAY

Leo is on break, smoking. He's joined by CAMERON, eating a small take-out bowl of pasta.

LEO (V.O.)
Thankfully, unlike my bank account,
I still had some social currency
saved away for rainy days, like
a friend like Cameron to help me
cash in a big reality check.

CAMERON
You know what your problem is, Leo?

Leo turns his head languidly to face Cameron.

LEO
(feigned interest)
Oh, do tell, dear friend.

CAMERON
You expect too much from people.

Leo SNORTS and takes another drag off his cigarette.

CAMERON (CONT'D)
(re: Leo's response)
What? Am I wrong?

LEO
No, dear friend. You're not. In
fact, you're actually right on
the money. However, I don't feel
as if these expectations aren't
justified. After all, it's not
like the expectations I put on
other people aren't as high as
the ones I put on myself.

Cameron takes this in as he works through a few bites of pasta. Finally, he comes up with something.

CAMERON
Okay, two things –- One: are the
people you're putting these
expectations on capable of even
meeting them?

Leo thinks about this.

CAMERON (CONT'D)
(patronizingly)
Yes, we all know you're great. Yes,
we all know you have the capacity
to go above and beyond what's
expected of you. We all know that
about you, but do you know that
about them? Can you say the same
things you can do, they can do
just as well?

A small frown forms on Leo's face –- the answer is no.

CAMERON (CONT'D)
And two: do they even know what
the expectations are that you're
hanging around their necks?

This catches Leo off guard. From the look on his face, the answer is an even bigger NO.

Cameron smirks, satisfied.

CAMERON (CONT'D)
Didn't think so.

 

LEO
So, what? To be happy and have
my expectations met, I need to
draft a policy with everyone I
know to let them know what I want
from them and have them sign and
date it, promising to uphold the
aforementioned expectations?

Now it's Cameron's turn to SNORT.

CAMERON
You're nothing short of extreme,
you know that?
(beat)
No, what I'm saying is you can't
walk into a friendship expecting
one thing and not even telling
the second party of the friendship
your expectations. Other people
have different thoughts of what
being friends means, and unless
you're clear about what you want
from them, they're never going
to give you what they want.

Leo takes this in and nods in understanding.

CAMERON (CONT'D)
And second of all, stop putting
yourself first. It's not always
about what YOU want in a friendship.
Maybe people don't want to hang
out with you as much as they do
with their other friends because
you don't put any thought into
what THEY want. Have you ever
thought about that?

Leo cocks an eyebrow at him -- a challenging no.

Cameron SIGHS, exasperated.

CAMERON (CONT'D)
Oh, Leo. I don't even know where
to begin with you. Friendship is
not just about having one person's
needs met, aka yours. Both parties
need to get something out of it.
You need to meet each other halfway.

Leo struggles to take this in, a new concept he's trying to wrap his head around.

LEO
You think that's why all my other
relationships failed miserably?
Because I don't know how to compromise?

CAMERON
(deadpan)
No, I think it's because you're
a lousy lay.

Leo looks at him, mock-insulted.

LEO
I'll have you know I'm great in
bed, thank you.

CAMERON
Sure, let me just ask all those
one-night tricks of yours that
turned out to be nothing more.

LEO
Ouch. Fuck you.

CAMERON
No, thanks. You're probably not
going to even try to meet my
needs, so why bother?

Leo mock-glares at him. Cameron smiles sweetly back in return.

CAMERON (CONT'D)
Love ya.

Leo blows smoke in his face. Cameron SCREAMS, COUGHS.

CAMERON (CONT'D)
Eww, you bitch!

Leo smiles back at him.

LEO
(a la Cameron)
Love ya.

END ACT ONE.

Too lazy to finish the rest. Maybe later. :)

Soul-Shredding Wordplay* #2

Part of me might want him to realize that nothing had changed since he'd been here last, that the orle of paradise was still there, and that the tilting gate to the beach still squeaked, that the world was exactly as he'd left it, minus Vimini, Anchise, and my father.

This was the welcoming gesture I meant to extend.

But another part of me wanted him to sense there was no point trying to catch up now—we'd traveled and been through too much without each other for there to be any common ground between us.

Perhaps I wanted him to feel the sting of loss, and grieve.

But in the end, and by way of compromise, perhaps, I decided that the easiest way was to show I'd forgotten none of it.

Sometimes, the old saying rings false.

Sometimes you can't go back home again.

- - -

And just for fun:

"Come, I'll take you to San Giacomo before you change your mind," I finally said. "There is still time before lunch. Remember the way?"

"I remember the way."

"You remember the way," I echoed.

He looked at me and smiled. It cheered me. Perhaps because I knew he was taunting me.

Twenty years was yesterday, and yesterday was just earlier this morning, and morning seemed light-years away.

"I'm like you," he said. "I remember everything."

I stopped for a second.

If you remember everything, I wanted to say, and if you are really like me, then before you leave tomorrow, or when you're just ready to shut the door of the taxi and have already said goodbye to everyone else and there's not a thing left to say in this life, then, just this once, turn to me, even in jest, or as an afterthought, which would have meant everything to me when were together, and, as you did back then, look me in the face, hold my gaze, and call me by your name.

Powerful stuff, this book.


* Aciman, Andre. Call Me By Your Name. New York: Picador, 2008. Print.

Gallery Art: #1

(source)

0 – The Fool

Had a fortune teller offer me all the answers to my burning questions, I wouldn't know what to ask.

Admittedly, I am the type of person who needs to know how things will play out — whether in regards to a book, a movie, a television series, what have you.

In those terms, I like knowing what to expect. It's not the end result I'm truly concerned with; it's how the journey arrives at its destination that intrigues me the most — the vast difference, the tremendous amount of growth that took place between Point A and Point Z.

As much as I'd like to say the same reasoning applies to my outlook on my life, I truly can't.

I can honestly say that I don't really care how my life will end up—what I'll be doing, who I'll be with, where I'll be.

For one, I don't want to look at my life in terms of a timeline and measure out an end point, a finite moment in my life where I can breathe a sigh of relief knowing I've reached my goal and there is nothing left to do anymore.

It's my mission in life to constantly achieve personal growth, to constantly be motivated by the urge to learn and grow and make myself better.

Setting expectations and striving to meet them to me is like setting a limitation. Once I've met that goal, then what?

Which explains why I like leaving things vague and open-ended—it leaves plenty of room for possibility, for unforeseen events that can throw my plan off course and set me on a new direction, a new opportunity for personal growth.

Sure, it makes life a lot more difficult to measure in terms of success and achievements, but from where am I really basing these units of measurement in the first place?

I've only learned that to compare other people's personal successes and achievements to my own will only lead me to disappointment until I force myself to realize that we are two different people with two different goals, two different mindsets, two different sets of priorities—so why even bother comparing the two?

It's like apples to oranges—there is no common denominator, therefore the comparison is invalid, inappropriate.

Also, I don't care how my life ends up because it really doesn't matter all that much to me.

Granted, I do have a few base requirements:
- I have a job I am absolutely passionate about that makes me want to get out of bed in the morning for
- I have a loving partner who supports and challenges me, and I the same to him
- I have children who I cherish and can teach the lessons I've learned and help spread goodwill
- I live day to day with no regrets in full pursuit of my own happiness

I admit that these requirements are pretty lofty and pretty challenging to measure up to, but at least it gives me something to strive for, something to go after with every day of my life.

And that's all I pretty much need.

Everything else, I've learned to accept as they come to me.

I look forward to meeting what life has to offer me head-on, as they come to me.

I can't allow myself to sit and wait for my fortune to come to fruition.

I'm just putting blind faith into my Fate that everything I ask for will come to me in due time, and everything else will just fall into place.

Defying Gravity

GLINDA:
Elphaba- why couldn't you have stayed calm for once, instead of flying off the handle!
I hope you're happy!
I hope you're happy now.
I hope you're happy how you hurt your cause forever.
I hope you think you're clever!

ELPHABA:
I hope you're happy.
I hope you're happy, too.
I hope you're proud how you would grovel in submission to feed your own ambition.

BOTH:
So though I can't imagine how, I hope you're happy right now.

GLINDA:
Elphie, listen to me.
Just say you're sorry.
You can still be with the Wizard, what you've worked and waited for.
You can have all you ever wanted.

ELPHABA:
I  know.
But I don't want it.
No- 
I can't want it anymore.
(beat)
Something has changed within me.
Something is not the same.
I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game.
Too late for second-guessing.
Too late to go back to sleep.
It's time to trust my instincts, close my eyes, and leap…
It's time to try defying gravity.
I think I'll try defying gravity, and you can't pull me down!

GLINDA:
Can't I make you understand?
You're having delusions of grandeur.

ELPHABA:
I'm through accepting limits 'cause someone says they're so.
Some things I cannot change, but till I try, I'll never know!
Too long I've been afraid of losing love I guess I've lost.
Well, if that's love, it comes at much too high a cost!
I'd sooner buy defying gravity.
Kiss me goodbye.
I'm defying gravity.
And you can't pull me down!
(beat)
Glinda, come with me.
Think of what we could do- together.
Unlimited.
Together, we're unlimited.
Together, we'll be the greatest team there's ever been.
Glinda-
Dreams, the way we planned them.

GLINDA:
If we work in tandem.

BOTH:
There's no fight we cannot win. 
Just you and I defying gravity.
With you and I, defying gravity.

ELPHABA:
They'll never bring us down.
(beat)
Well? Are you coming?

GLINDA:
I hope you're happy, now that you're choosing this.

ELPHABA:
You, too.
(beat)
I hope it brings you bliss.

BOTH:
I really hope you get it, and you don't live to regret it.
I hope you're happy in the end.
I hope you're happy, my friend.

ELPHABA:
So if you care to find me, look to the western sky! 
As someone told me lately:
"Everyone deserves the chance to fly!"
And if I'm flying solo,  at least I'm flying free.
To those who'd ground me, take a message back from me.
Tell them how I am defying gravity.
I'm flying high, defying gravity.
And soon I'll match them in renown.
And nobody in all of Oz, no Wizard that there is or was, is ever gonna bring me down!

GLINDA:
I hope you're happy!

CITIZENS OF OZ:
Look at her, she's wicked!
Get her!
No one mourns the wicked.
So we've got to bring her down!

The "I" in "Team"

I am a hard worker, therefore I will be successful in life.

It's not about doing things the right way anymore.

Doing my job the way I am directed to do so on paper is no longer my focus, because I have proven time and time again I am more than capable of doing so.

The challenge, I know now, is to disregard whether I'm doing my job right or not, and to just simply be a team player.

Enough said.

A Friend in Need is a Friend Who's Fucked

I don't know where things stand, and that to me is what I find the most frustrating.

I'm a dynamic, ever-changing person, so it's stability and consistency that I crave the most— some sort of grounding element that helps pull me back when I start to drift out.

And lately, there hasn't been much of that going for me.

There hasn't been a floor, that aforementioned grounding element to help reel me back in lately, especially during these recent times when I've been feeling all at a loss— lost in myself, lost in my problems, lost in my loneliness.

I've not felt that support I've so desperately seeking, so it feels as if I'm tail-spinning further out into the unknown, into somewhere far away, somewhere unfamiliar, dark in complete isolation with no guide to help bring me back to the life I've known.

Maybe perhaps I'm partly to blame regarding this situation in which I've found myself.

Admittedly, it is not in my nature to reach out when I feel like I am being pulled away.

I expect someone, anyone to take the first step and grab hold of me to pull me back in, bring me back to the world, let me know that I'm safe and supported.

I know it's an unfair expectation to hang around peoples' neck, but it let's me know that I'm not alone in this world, that there is someone out there who cares for me, watching out for me.

But no.

Same shit, different day, I guess.

Every time this had happened, I never got what I had wanted all along: a friend, someone close, someone I trust, to just even drop a line to say Hey, what's going on? Let's go have a cup of coffee and talk.

I don't expect much from anyone, but this is pretty much my only requirement for people who really want to be a true friend in my book.

Someone to just look past all the I'm fines and I'm okays and make the attempt to pry it out of me to see what's really on my mind, and helping me to see that no, I'm not all alone in this world.

But do I ever get that?

Nope.

Nope, nope, nope.

None of that at all.

So can you blame a guy for wallowing in pity after realizing that yeah, he pretty much is all alone in the world? That this feeling of a vast cloud of loneliness hanging above him is in fact justified?

Didn't think so.

So I guess it's up to me again to pull myself out of this sea of misery I'm drowning myself in.

It's up to me yet again to take the responsibility to get myself to buck the fuck up and get on with life, because obviously no one else is gonna risk reaching their hand out to help me up.

And I wonder why I'm so self-sufficient sometimes, so stubbornly independent that I absolutely refuse to ask for help when I know not doing so will only shoot me in the foot.

Can you blame a guy for not trusting anyone to help him out when they haven't given him a reason to trust them in the first place?

I'm tired of this.

I'm tired of investing all my time and energy caring for other people, showing them I'm capable of being a great friend when they never seem to do the same for me in return.

I will drop everything I'm doing at a moment's notice to meet up with you at your insistence.

I will persistently ask you what's wrong until you really tell me what's on your mind.

I will put aside my own problems so that I can genuinely help you out with yours.

I will be the one to reach out and pull you back in when it feels like you're spinning out of control.

And now I won't be the one waiting for your phone call when I'm on the other side of the situation, because in all honesty: what have you done for me lately?

I'm tired of this shit. I don't care anymore.

Deal with your own drama, because you're the one leaving me to deal with my own.

Failure to Launch

I'm feeling trapped.

I feel like I'm stuck in self-destructive cycle, doomed to keep on repeating the same mistakes that tear me to shreds, only to force myself to gather all the strength I've got left in me to pick myself back up, only to allow myself to get knocked back down again.

I don't know where I'm going.

I'm feeling as if I've done it all before, over and over again, and just like all those previous trials and tribulations, I've failed—failed so miserably so many times that it seems that that's the only solution I can arrive at without batting an eye, without even trying.

Maybe that's the problem.

Maybe I'm not even trying.

It feels as if I've been letting myself fall by the wayside so many times already that it's become the go-to answer, the default option I let myself go to when things get rough and situations call for me to step up and be a man.

I'm letting myself lose.

Why am I doing this to myself?

Why am I prioritizing the trivial when all along I know I what I need to do is to just buckle down and get my shit done?

Am I failing on purpose?

Maybe. I wouldn't put it past me, knowing my previous track record concerning this particular modus operandi.

But why?

For attention?

No, I don't need the attention. This isn't a cry for help, at least not the way I see it.

I don't want to draw attention to myself this way by spotlighting the fact that I can't focus, can't do what just needs to get done, can't do what it takes to just move on already.

I'm exhausted. I've been working so much, working my ass off.

Caring too much.

Why am I doing this?

Why am I pouring all my energy into my work when I already know I've proven myself?

Granted, I admit there is still some residual guilt left in me for having thrown it all away in the first place. I've not forgotten what I had to go through to get back to where I am now.

Humiliation aside, I'm glad I went through it. It's humbled me, knocked me down a couple pegs.

It gave me the opportunity to learn from previous mistakes, old failures, and make something better of myself.

And I have. I've proven I was worth the second chance, proved that I can change, that I've grown, that I can do so much better.

Knowing that, being able to acknowledge that, see the difference from who I was to who I'm becoming— that alone has been one of the most truly gratifying gifts I could ever give myself.

But what now?

I don't feel challenged anymore.

I'm not motivated to do anything else, not inspired to bring myself to action for… anything, it feels like.

I hate to say I'm dead inside. I know I'm not.

But something in me feels like it's broken.

Something in me is not clicking, something in me is not fueling the fire to get me off my ass and do something, anything.

I've fallen behind in my schoolwork, which is completely ridiculous and unacceptable, I know, considering the fact that I've only got one class to worry about this time around.

I can't fail it again, can't waste anymore of my time.

But that desire to not fail doesn't seem to be enough for me to motivate myself to do something about it.

I'm normally an action-oriented person.

Something ignites my interest, flames my passion, makes me want to get up and rule the goddamn world.

But I haven't felt that way in quite a while now, and I don't know why.

It feels as if I've fallen back in a slump.

The only consistent thing about me is my erratic mood swings.

I go from happy, inspired, brilliant, jubilant, to melancholic, apathetic, lethargic at the drop of a hat.

One moment I'm up, up, and up, and the next… I don't know what happens or how I get there, but the next thing I know is that I feel like I'm on a tailspin towards depression.

It is that time of the year…

I'm more susceptible to depression 'round this time.

I never do so well in the fall and winter months, when the only feeling I can recognize in me can be summed up as "bleak."

This is when the vices increase, intensify to a new level of addiction I'm normally capable of staving off any other time of the year.

This is when I feel the most empty, when I rediscover the void in my heart still exists and has continued to go on unfulfilled.

So what do I do?

I fill that void within me with more vices, in desperate hopes to plug up the hole that I can't fill, can't even name, can't even fathom how vast and bottomless it is.

More cigarettes, more alcohol, more pharmaceuticals.

More unfulfilled longing for love and intimacy, covered up by casual sex and artificial detachment.

This is the time of year I fuck myself up even more than I already am.

Because I am a fuck up.

No matter how intelligent I can make myself sound, no matter how competent I can portray myself to be, no matter how confident I can carry myself to look,  it still doesn't make up for the fact that I'd rather take the easier route and make a mess of myself than to even try to break out of the self-destructive cycle I've been in since God knows when.

Caught In A Bad Romance

"Hydrocodone may be habit-forming and should be used only by the person it was prescribed for. Hydrocodone and acetaminophen should never be given to another person, especially someone who has a history of drug abuse or addiction. Keep the medication in a secure place where others cannot get to it."

(source)

Slippery slopes are best navigated with ankles that aren't screaming in pain.

An Itch You Can't Scratch

I'm irritated and I don't know why.

The only emotion that rushes up to meet me when I check in with myself is anger and frustration, the hatred boiling in me so hot that it's manifesting itself through physical symptoms.

I'm itchy and agitated. I'm scratching needlessly, desperately at my skin, my hair, as if I'm digging for something deep within me, something that would provide the answer as to why I feel this way.

It's like a metaphor, with me scratching away, trying to find that spot that would hit me right where it hurts, but would also deliver me the pleasure of satisfaction over having found my mark.

But I'm digging and scratching and I feel like I haven't even begun to have scratched the surface, haven't even begun to discover a ballpark estimate of what it is that's driving me up the wall.

What is it that has got me feeling so hot under the collar?

Better yet, what was it that triggered this seemingly dormant emotion?

I was fine before all this.

I got my shit done, I behaved appropriately (well, as appropriate as I can be.).

I was in every means a normal, functioning member of society.

Until now.

Now I feel like a madman's taken hold of me, holding me captive until I've figured out a way to resolve all of his issues, so vast a task I can't even begin to discover where to start.

Maybe I'm just exhausted.

I've worked my ass off these past few weeks, barely functioning on little to no sleep whatsoever.

I've barely had time for myself, let alone other people. When I wasn't working, I was trying to squeeze in some time for sleep, or forcing myself to get the rest of my responsibilities or errands done, or wasting away all hopes of free time on public transportation.

Now it feels like I'm falling apart, coming undone at the seams right before my very eyes.

What is it that triggered this in me? Why am I now so consumed with my own irritation that I can't even focus on maintaining control of myself?

There are things I know I need to say, words I know I need to verbally express to make me feel more at ease in my situation—but I'm not saying them.

Why?

What are my motives for keeping them to myself, for not letting my needs known?

What exactly am I trying to grasp at here?

I crave a connection.

I'm desperate to find that intimate connection because for some reason, I feel as if possessing that would somehow complete me.

I'm irritated because I don't have it.

And with this irritation, I only push people further away instead of bringing them closer.

I'm putting myself on a destructive cycle here.

I want you, but I want you to keep your distance.

Come closer, stay away.

I'm torn between these two and I don't know which way to go.

Don't even know how to take a step in either direction.

I need space.

I need to distance myself away from everyone.

Better to have nothing than to have just a little of something.

Oh God, I'm falling apart and I don't know how to put myself back together again.

Learning Curve

What did I expect?

You bare your heart and soul to another person.

You finally give verbal expression to what you're really feeling deep down inside.

You openly pour your guts out to someone you trust completely in an honest, no-holds-barred fashion without being afraid to be seen as weak, vulnerable, flawed.

You willingly lay out all of your cards on the table for the whole world to see, and of course, this is what happens.

It's astonishing to see the lack of a learning curve I posses with this sort of thing, given the amount of times I've put myself in this situation many times before.

I give, and I give, and I give—but what do I ever get in return?

Besides regret, that is.

Let that be another lesson to you.

How does a fish get caught?
He opens his mouth.

The cards are staying close to my chest this time around.

Mission Statement, revised

I'm having an extremely difficult time with the first assignment of the class I'm taking for the third (and hopefully last) time.

Establish your life's mission statement and tailor it to meet the description of your business.

Step one:

To promote the awareness and understanding of the connection between the physical, mental, and spiritual aspects of life.

To teach the world about the integration of body, mind, and spirit.

To increase the efficiency and productivity of an accessible population.

To make the world more productive.

To empower the masses with education and physical prowess.

To eliminate the musculoskeletal hindrances of the working class through therapeutic bodywork and client education. (?)

I guess I'm having a very tough time trying to get past Step One because I've yet to find exactly what it is that makes up the driving force of my life.

I don't know what my purpose in life is, my reason for being here.

And it's driving me nuts.

Not just because I need to know it so I can finally move on with my Career Development project, but because I've spent 22 years of my life living on this earth without ever knowing what it is I want out of it.

I guess I should calm down, take it slow. Be a little more patient with myself, because what 22-year-old really knows what it is exactly that they want to make of their life?

I know I shouldn't expect too much out of myself, but I can't help placing these nearly-impossible expectations around my neck— it's just who I am.

And also, I really want to move on with this fucking assignment.

So what is it exactly that I want to make out of my life?

What is it exactly that gives me that oomph!, that driving passion that makes me can't help but do something?

What is it exactly that puts a fire under my ass and inspires me to do something great, make my mark on this world?

I have so many wants in my my life, so many tasks I want to cross off my life's To-Do list, but I've yet to run across that one entry that makes my heart leap out of my chest, the one I read and immediately know that's it!

The one thing I know for certain is that I don't want to leave this world without ever having made my mark on it.

I want to make an outstanding impact, make the time I spent on this earth mean something before I leave it.

This is the big picture I see that really inspires me to… what, exactly?

I don't know.

I just don't know.

What can I do to leave that kind of impression on this world?

It feels as if there is this large cloud of enigmatic possibility floating above me, so profound I can't even begin to comprehend its existence, and it is just waiting for me to tap into my highest potential so it can finally break and let loose the greatness I've got stored up inside of me.

And all I can do is feel washed up with regret over the fact that I still haven't figured out a way to reach it, to not even begin to have scratched the surface if it after all this time.

It's left me feeling nothing but frustration.

I feel like banging my head against the wall until I force it out of me, just so I can save myself all that time unsuccessfully trying to figure out who I am and what greatness I can achieve.

To answer why I want to achieve such greatness is easy: because I love praise and adoration that would come of possessing such an accomplishment.

I'm only ever truly happy when I have an audience, someone with whom to bask in the glory of my triumphs, the darkness of my failures, the pride in my success.

Perhaps that is my main purpose in life: to have an audience.

It's what I can honestly say makes me truly happy in life.

But how to tailor it to a massage-oriented business…?

Open Letter: Little J.

Dear Little J.,

I'm sorry I held you back.

I'm sorry I didn't give you all the support you needed as you struggled through your life without knowing what any of it meant.

I'm sorry I believed all this time that you were too weak and fragile to stand up and fight for yourself.

I'm sorry for not hearing your voice, for letting you cry yourself to sleep some nights without letting anyone know why.

I'm sorry I put so much fear into you I had to put you in a shell to protect you from the world.

I'm sorry for not giving you the strength you needed to fight those fears, the courage to seek life on your own, the love in yourself that was the summation of all you ever really needed.

I'm sorry I taught you to fear instead of to love.

I'm sorry for shutting you out.

I'm sorry I let you down.

I was stupid.

I made some horrible mistakes.

I wish to God I could go back in time and correct them for you, to save you from all the hurt and misery I put you through, but you and I both know that's not how it works.

So instead of sending you my regrets (what would you do with them, anyway?), I'm sending you my gratitude.

Thank you for all that you've done. The decisions you've made. The choices you've chosen. The actions you've taken.

The situations you've been through.

The hurt you've felt.

They've all helped to shape the person I am today.

Without you, I am nothing.

I would not have the great strength I possess now had you not suffered for them.

You are the one who has taught me that the strength I've needed all this time could be found in myself, and that the love I've been looking for has always been there, just waiting to be discovered.

Thank you for showing me what I thought I destroyed was never lost at all.

Love,
J.

A Walk In The Park

Had some spare time today after work and before class to spend walking through the Marina district of Downtown San Diego on a whim.

Spent some time here:

 
The Children's Park

Managed to take a few panorama shots before having to rush off for class.

           

You told me that you go back to the same places a lot.
Yeah, it's like gravity—big events pull you in.

You were a big event.

Texts To Myself (T2M) #2

0914 – 417PM
I've been feeling so out of touch with the world.

I haven't spent much quality time with my friends lately. The only thing connecting us now is Facebook and sporadic text messages that don't come as often as I'd like.

Even that makes me feel as if our friendship is hanging on by a measly string.

I've gotten so used to spending so much time with them that when we resume our normal distance from each other, my dramatic nature takes over and makes me believe I've been deserted, stranded, abandoned.

I guess this time away from my friends can be considered a blessing in disguise.

It's given me time to myself, time I only see now that I've desperately needed all along.

I need time to recuperate, nurture my strength. Get everything I need done that doesn't require their help.

This period of isolation shouldn't be misconstrued as a dry spell of loneliness, but as a time to get myself back on track and reprioritize my life.




curious for #1?
0829 – 1243AM
Don't punish him for what happened.

It's not his fault; it's your own insecurities coming to the surface, your own jealousy you're coming face to face with and you know it's never going to be pretty.

Allow yourself to recognize that yeah, you are jealous. Then be able to forgive yourself for feeling that way.

The sooner you get over yourself, the sooner you'll enjoy the moment for what it is and leave it at that.

Action Plan - 0910

My head is in such a messy state right now.

So many things to do, so many things to take care of; I feel like I'm spinning out of control into disaster unless I force myself to shake out of my hysteria and take the reigns.

Time for a little prioritizing.

(REV. 0921 | 1116PM)

ESCUELALA
x touch for health // study TFH protocol + exam (0916)
x synergistic massage // (3) client evaluation forms (0917)
x advanced lab // Thoracic Outlet Syndrome pamphlet (0918)
x asian bodywork // (12) Tui Na/Shiatsu treatment logs (0921)

_ call financial aid to increase student loan by $900 (0915)
x register for career development for the last time! (0918)

OTHER 
x pay phone bill
_ renew ID
_ buy:
xxx- glandular adrenal supplements
xxx- condoms
xxx- beard trimmer
_ fold down woven shirts
_ remember to breathe

 

I think it's about damn time I got my shit together.

M.B., 09-0827

The good times are killing me.

The Culprit

 vastus medialis

(source)

Open Letter: I.

I.,

I'm happy for you.

I'm excited for you.

You have a fresh start.

You've got every opportunity in the world laid out before you, and it can all be yours, just ripe for the picking.

I only want everything good possible for you.

I'm only sad because this situation just serves as a painful reminder that I've already cashed in my check, already had these opportunities you're only beginning to experience and had lost them with nothing more than a bat of an eye.

Don't make the same mistakes I've made.

I won't let you make the same mistakes I've made.

I love you.

J.

Over(sex)drive

Has sex lost its meaning for me?

It's been a long time since I've had a physical relationship with someone I genuinely cared about, rather than anonymous strangers in unfamiliar places.

It feels as if I've been on autopilot for so long that I'm afraid I've forgotten what it's like to take the wheel and drive to a destination of my own choosing, to a place I've been yearning to go for so long.

I feel nothing but emptiness inside, only a wave of regret washing over me at every attempt I make to fill that void that only results in failure.

Maybe W. was right.

Hiding my expectations and desires from the world doesn't protect me from disappointment; it only leaves me feeling weaker, emptier.

A fraud.

By not claiming my true wants and needs, I will never receive them.

I'm settling.

I'm accepting things way below the standard of my expectations.

No wonder I'm unhappy.

I'm not getting what I want, and I can only blame myself.

I've set my self up for disappointment by trying to protect myself from it.

It feels as if I've been given something completely opposite of what I wanted all along, and it's too late to take it back, too late for a do-over.

My mistake has cost my happiness, but this time I'm willing to fight for it back.

I know what I want now. I've always known.

Now it's just a matter of being honest with myself for wanting it, and not being afraid of going after it.

It's my turn to take the wheel and point it to the direction I want to go this time around.

Soul-Shredding Wordplay*

It must have come to me a while later when I was still in his arms. It woke me up before I even realized I had dozed off, filling me with a sense of dread and anxiety I couldn't begin to fathom.

I felt queasy, as if I had been sick and needed not just many showers to wash everything off but a bath in mouthwash.

I needed to be far away—from him, from this room, from what we'd done together.

It was as though I were slowly landing from an awful nightmare but wasn't quite touching the ground yet and wasn't sure I wanted to, because what awaited was not going to be much better, though I knew I couldn't go on hanging on to that giant, amorphous blob of a nightmare that felt like the biggest cloud of self-loathing and remorse that had ever wafted into my life.

I would never be the same.

How had I let him do these things to me, and how eagerly had I participated in them, and spurred them on, and then waited for him, begging him, Please don't stop.

Now his goo was matted on my chest as proof that I had crossed a terrible line. …

[I had offended] those who were yet unborn or unmet and whom I'd never be able to love without remembering this mass of shame and revulsion rising between my life and theirs. It would haunt and sully my love for them, and between us, there would be this secret that could tarnish everything good in me.

Sounds just like a first time to me.


* Aciman, Andre. Call Me By Your Name. New York: Picador, 2008. Print.

Apathy

It's hard to care when there's so many things vying for your attention.

You just sort of give up trying to take control of things and say "Fuck it, I'm done."

I hate to be a victim of apathy.

I'm never against taking a stand for what's right.

I don't know how, but I've lost my fight.

Too many things to fight for, I guess I just gave up.

I'm sorry.

I just don't care anymore.

Say Goodnight And Go

I think we're done.

(It was fun while it lasted.)

First

There are lots of things I've come to learn about myself these past few weeks.

I am so much more than I realize.

These past few weeks have been a time of many Firsts for me, Firsts I had never hoped nor dreamed nor ever expected I would be ever capable of doing.

My First Time Hooking Up In An Adult Video Arcade Booth.

My First Time Hooking Up With Someone In My New House.

My First Time Hooking Up With More Than One Person At The Same Time.

My First Time Buying Drugs.

My First Time Having A Great Birthday.

My First Time Realizing That I Already Have The Amazing Friends I've Always Wanted.

My First Time Realizing I Already Have The Best Friend I'd Been Wishing For All This Time.

My First Time Realizing I Am Stronger Than I Give Myself Credit For.

My First Time Being Truly Happy With What I Have.

Yes, it's  definitely been a series of Firsts, one after the other, and in such a short time frame.

I feel as if I've walked into a whirlwind, only to be spat back out a disheveled mess.

Only instead of losing everything like how I usually end up feeling in previous situations like this, I've gained so much more.

It's only now that I realize that I am truly meant to be happy. I've been given Life's blessings all this time, and in my constant pursuance of my impossibly high expectations, I've only felt as if I'd been given the short end of the stick… until now.

Until I had been given the gift to open my eyes and truly see what it is with which I'd been so graciously blessed.

This post is not what I had originally anticipated it to be.

I thought I was going to sit down and write about the profound impact yesterday evening had been for me and its repercussions on my psyche and that premiere relationship around which it centers, but I guess I've managed to see the bigger picture this time around.

I admit there are times when my insecurities get a strong hold of me, making it feel impossible for me to shake off those persistent voices telling me I'm not good enough, I'm not smart enough, I'm not strong enough.

But it took something so huge, so great in its divine meaning I can't even begin to comprehend its impact on me, to make me finally realize that I am so much more than I give myself credit for.

It's helped boost my self-esteem exponentially, which I have to say had been lagging for quite some time now that I began to wonder what my self-worth really was— and it's never a pretty picture when I let my mind wander over there.

Someone out there cares about what I have to say.

Someone out there appreciates what I can contribute to this world.

Someone out there can benefit from the wisdom I've learned and am willing to pass on.

Someone out there believes in me.

And I've finally realized for the first time: it's about damn time I started believing in myself.

Deuce Deuce

Thank you, guys!

(Sorry, Wilfred + date!)

I Thought That You'd Want What I Want

I Wanna Rock Wit U

hey u want to hook up thresome

You sure know how to rock a guy's world.

- - -

I'm fascinated by the intrigue.

I never cease to feel as if my heart is leaping out of my chest whenever I hear from you,  think of you.

I'm not bored yet.

If anything, you leave me curious as to what you're gonna pull out of your sleeve next.

The excitement you throw my way makes me feel alive again, gives me that rush, that thrill that I had been desperately seeking for such a long time.

It's never a dull moment with you.

Let's keep this going.

Don't stop now.

I'm ashamed to admit it, but I am hooked on you.

- - -

I'm game if you are.

Life In Fiction, Edited (L.I.F.E.): 073108

OVER BLACK.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
He always wanted to start his
birthday off with a bang.

THE SOUND OF TWO MEN GROANING
fills the soundtrack.

CUT TO:

INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT

TWO MEN are in the middle of a hot and heavy fuck session on the bed, softly outlined only by the limited pale blue light of the moon coming through a window.

Their GROANING and the sounds of BED SPRINGS CREAKING are the only things we hear until the NARRATOR's voice rises through the intimate noises.

NARRATOR (V.O.)
It was the only year he got
his wish.

We stay on the two bodies grinding forcefully in synch for a moment before we --

FADE TO:

INT. TAXICAB – EVENING (EARLIER)

A YOUNG MAN (20, of the first scene), dressed rather formally in a shirt, dress pant, and top coat (all black), sits in the back of a taxi cab making its way through a relatively affluent suburb, staring out the window with a glassy-eyed stare. 
 

What am I doing? What the hell was I thinking?!  Oh, God. Oh, Jesus. Forgive him, Father, for he knows not what he does…

C.U. – THE REARVIEW MIRROR
The DRIVER'S GENTLE BROWN EYES sneak a glance at the young man in his backseat.

DRIVER
(trying to make conversation,
with a heavy Spanish accent)
You havin' a good night?

The young man tears his sight away from the window long enough to meet the driver's stare through the mirror.

YOUNG MAN
I'm counting on it.

He resumes his gaze out the window, ending the conversation.

Noting this, the driver CLEARS HIS THROAT at the awkward silence that ensues and turns on the radio to a SPANISH STATION, singing along softly.

YOUNG MAN (V.O.)
Thanks.

CUT TO:

EXT. HOUSE - SIDEWALK – NIGHT (LATER)

The taxi cab pulls away from the curb, leaving the young man standing awkwardly on the sidewalk of a quiet residential neighborhood.

He takes a DEEP BREATH as he looks out at the dark two-story house in front of him, a soft, muffled blue glow emanating from the ground floor window.
 

Oh, God. Here I am. Jesus, now what?

C.U. – HIS HAND
begins to tremble softly in nervousness.

He immediately shoves his hand into his coat pocket, retrieving a small silver cigarette case.

He extracts a cigarette from the case and lights it up, taking a DEEP DRAG before EXHALING SLOWLY- a sweet release for his anxiety.

His gaze never leaves the house as he finishes his cigarette off desperately.
 

He's in there, waiting. The man that holds all my hopes and dreams. He's there, waiting for me. The key to this night. Better make it last. We've still got a way's to go before midnight…

After a long moment he tosses his cigarette on the ground, crushing it with his boot.

He makes his way toward the front door.

CUT TO:

EXT. HOUSE – FRONT DOOR – CONTINUING

He pauses at the front door, hesitating.
 

Oh, God, oh, God. Is it too late to turn around? End this now? I can't do this. I'm sorry, I can't see you. See, it's my birthday and I really wanted to do this because it means a lot to me but now I'm not so sure you're the right man for the job. Jesus Christ, just turn the fuck around…

He raises a shaking finger and moves it toward the doorbell, inching his way closer until his finger is just on the button.
 

Here we go. Judgment day..

Immediately he shoves his hand back into the safety of his coat pocket.
 

Oh, God, I can't do this.

He releases a HEAVY SIGH and withdraws his cell phone. He scrolls through his address book, stopping on "R." and presses "CALL."

It RINGS.
 

No turning back now.

He SIGHS.

MAN (V.O.)
Hello?

The VOICE on the other end visibly catches him off-guard. He takes a moment to gather his bearings, CLEARING HIS THROAT before responding.

YOUNG MAN
Hey, it's me. I'm outside.

MAN
Hey! I just got out of the
shower, give me a second.

Why bother getting dressed?

YOUNG MAN
Sure thing.

He hangs up, taking in another DEEP BREATH.

A MOMENT PASSES before the door opens, revealing a shirtless MAN (30) in well-worn jeans, the grin on his face a mile-wide.
 

Jesus. I want it to be you.

MAN
Hey! Come on in.

The young man hesitates for a moment before he raises a foot over the threshold.

THE DOOR CLOSES AUTHORITIVELY behind him.

CUT TO:

INT. HOUSE – FOYER – CONTINUING

The young man glances around the room (formal leather seating, glass coffee tables, abstract paintings, an aquarium devoid of fishes) as he removes his coat and shoes.

The man locks his eyes on the young man, drinking him in with a disarming smile as he continues his glance around the room.

YOUNG MAN
What happened to Kool and
the gang?

MAN
Huh?

He follows the young man's gaze to the empty aquarium sitting opposite the large living room window, its blue glow ethereal and haunting.

MAN (CONT'D)
Oh. They got sick. Bad food.

YOUNG MAN
What a shame.

MAN
Tell me about it.

The young man looks over to him, notices his grin.

       

It's my birthday tonight.

He looks away.

CUT TO:

SEVERAL LARGE KOI FISH
splash frantically on the surface of a small pond.

CUT TO:

EXT. HOUSE – BACKYARD – CONTINUING

The fish are just quick flashes of white, black, and orange as the man, now wearing a sweater, generously sprinkles flakes of food into the water.

The young man watches from a distance, a slight smile on his face.

YOUNG MAN
Good to see they're doing
well.

The man looks over his shoulder at him, a proud patronly smile on his face.

MAN
Yeah, they're doing great!
 

I want to see that smile when I wake up in the morning. That smile will make this all worthwhile.

YOUNG MAN
They've grown bigger since I
was here last.

The man sets the container of food down, says a quick good night to the fishes, and makes his way back to stand beside the young man, his gaze locked on the pond.

MAN
("it's been a while.")
Yeah, they've definitely grown
since then.

Almost daring himself, the young man leans a little closer to him until he's only an inch away.

Noticing this, the man smiles at him.
 

It's my birthday tonight and I want it to be you.

He throws his arm around the young man and holds him close.

MAN (CONT'D)
C'mon. Let's go inside.
 

Oh, shit.

CUT TO:

INT. BEDROOM – LATER

The man moves into the room, peeling out of his sweater and turning the television on to the local news, before throwing himself onto the bed with a LOUD SIGH.

He looks over at the young man, hesitating at the doorway.

MAN
Close the door. My roommate will
be home soon.
 

So private. I don't know anything about you. What am I doing here? I want it to be you.

The young man closes the door softly behind him and locks it. He looks over to the man, who pats the space on the bed beside him.

MAN (CONT'D)
C'mon. Relax.

The young man hesitates.
 

Oh, God. Here goes nothing.

After a moment, he makes his way towards the bed, removing his watch and emptying the contents of his pockets on the night stand, all the while being under the watchful gaze of the man.

He sinks cautiously onto the bed, nearly hugging the edge.

The man LAUGHS SOFTLY and places a friendly hand on his thigh.

MAN (CONT'D)
You alright over there? Why
don't you come a little closer?

The young man takes his suggestion, uneasily easing himself closer to the man.
 

I want it to be you. It's my birthday tonight. Here goes nothing.

He peels out of his shirt, leaving on his tank top and dress pants.

MAN (CONT'D)
That's better.

He places his hand on the young man's thigh once more, looks up at him.

The young man looks back at him with a gentle smile.
 

Don't hurt me. I want it to be you.

The man smiles back, a gleam in his eyes.

MAN
(softly)
You want to?
 

Of course. It's my birthday. I want it to be you.

The young man nods, slinking OFF FRAME to undo the man's jeans before getting to work . . .

FADE TO:

INT. BEDROOM – SUNRISE

Soft, morning light streams through the window, spilling onto the bed where the man and the young man lie on opposite ends.

The man sleeps peacefully, SNORING SOFTLY, as the young man watches him quietly from his side.

After a moment, he moves closer towards the man, nestling beside his arm.
 

It's my birthday. What am I doing here?

He reaches out a hand to gently stroke the man's chest, lingering over every plane of muscle as he works his way down.
 

Who are you? I wanted it to be you.

The man STIRS, opening his eyes softly and focusing his gaze on the young man beside him.

YOUNG MAN
Morning.

The man smiles at him.

MAN
Morning.
 

It's my birthday.

He wraps his arm around him and holds him close before breaking away.
 

I wanted it to be you.

CUT TO:

INT. CAR – MORNING (LATER)

The two men are on the drive back. SOFT POP ROCK plays on the radio as they gaze out into the neighborhood they speed through.

MAN
These houses are so nice. Must
be a nice neighborhood.

YOUNG MAN
Yeah, it's . . . nice.

The man YAWNS.

MAN
Jesus. I still gotta head
to work.

He turns to grin lasciviously at the young man.

MAN (CONT'D)
That was a nice way to start the
morning.

The young man grins back at him.

YOUNG MAN
Got a little pep in your step?

MAN
Maybe a little.
(beat)
I can't believe it's already
August. Time flies, man, I'm
telling you.
(beat)
Hey, isn't your birthday in
August?
 

I wanted it to be you.

YOUNG MAN
Yep.

MAN
What day?

The young man turns to look at him squarely in the eye.

YOUNG MAN
Today, actually.

The man reacts in complete shock.

MAN
You're kidding me!

The young man resumes his gaze out the window.

YOUNG MAN
Nope. Today . . . is my
birthday.
 

I wanted it to be you.

The man takes this in for a moment before slapping him on the thigh with an AMUSED LAUGH.

MAN
Well, happy birthday!

YOUNG MAN
Thank you.

As the man continues to let this fact sink in, the smile on his face begins to slowly disappear.
 

It's my birthday. I wanted it to be you.

MAN
(realizing, softly)
Happy birthday.

FADE TO BLACK.

THE END.