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.

Having Your Cake (And Eating It, Too)

I thought this time around it would be easy.

I knew what I was in for. I knew the rules of the game: meet up, hook up, get off, go our separate ways— a clean break.

What I didn’t expect was my overinflated ego to get in the way.

It would’ve been so simple. It could’ve been so nice.

If it wasn’t for the awkward moment after the fact, I think I could’ve spent all day today with that goofy smile on my face.

But no.

Once again, Fate has conspired to use its entitled power to redirect a balance in my life.

Fate giveth, and Fate taketh away.

From one extreme to another, I’m still working on finding that middle ground again.

In the crossfire, the process of returning back to that state of homeostasis, I’ve managed to puff up my ego and, of course, shrink it back down to size— all in less than an hour, too.

Now I’m left licking my wounds and nursing my bruised ego, trying to figure out where it went wrong and where I can go from here.

It’s not about him.

It’s about me.

It always is, no?

I can honestly say I hold no judgment towards him, no hard feelings, no grudge. It is what it is on his end— what more can I expect of him than that?

What hurts me the most is the realization that I’m letting myself be punished by this. For taking it too strongly, too personally, when all it really was was nothing more than a silly game.

Tragic flaw #1: I care too much.

As much as I want to say, “What the fuck ever.” to all of this and call it a day, live and let live, let bygones be bygones, etc., I know this will simmer in me for a while unless I work it out of me via this entry.

I’ve yet to reply to his question.

I only remember my initial reaction as soon as I got that text was “Ouch,” and I think it has been ever since.

Not “Oh my God, I can’t believe this fucker!”

Not “Motherfucker, what an asshole!”

Not any of that.

Just “Ouch.”

It bothers me the most that I couldn’t have been enough, at least for the night.

It’s something with which I’m always struggling, I reckon.

It brings up old, hard-hitting insecurities that I am never enough, never good enough, simply not enough to captivate someone’s attention on an exclusive level.

That I don’t matter, just another face in the crowd.

I guess I still expected something out of the situation, no matter how much I told myself I was going into it with no expectations at all. I can at least give myself that.

I’ve tried to justify this to help myself realize that maybe I’m going through this for nothing, so I can just stop feeling sorry for myself now.

Maybe he didn’t mean it the way I interpreted. Maybe it was just an innocent question, one set forth by idle curiosity and chance.

Maybe I took it way more personally than I should’ve, once given survey of my consistent and naturally self-centered outlook on things. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe.

I can continue on making justifications left and right, but damn, I gotta admit, I’m still left feeling a little crushed.

The Lion Takes Center Stage

As the Sun moves around the zodiac, it spends about one month in each sign. On July 22, it moved from the deeply feeling sign of Cancer the Crab and into the limelight-loving sign of Leo the Lion! Whatever your sign, you'll definitely feel the influence as Leo adds sizzle to the summer and kicks the mood up a couple notches ...

The Sun is in Leo until August 22, and you couldn't ask for a more exciting sign to see us through the hottest month of summer! That's because Leo's element is Fire, and like fellow Fire signs Aries and Sagittarius, Leo is all about living in the moment! This Fire sign's ability to go from the gut can make it seem impulsive, but actually, Leo is incredibly intuitive.

To Leo, all the world's a stage -- and Leo would always like to be in the spotlight! For this reason, the Lion can come across as image-conscious, but make no mistake: regal Leo is no narcissist. Like its symbol, Leo is proud and noble, has natural leadership skills and a deep loyalty to those it cares about.

Even for those of us who aren't Leos, the mood for the next month will still be much more social. Leo is the sign of celebration, encouraging us to plan summer festivities, poolside parties and spontaneous nights out. And as you get ready to hit the town, you might just find that the notoriously glam Leo influence has a lot to say about your wardrobe decisions: you may not have opted for shiny fabrics, metallics or "bling" in the past, but you'll suddenly find yourself drawn to more flamboyant fashion choices!

Leo is also a very theatrical sign, so keep the drama in check with friends, family and life in general. At the same time, enjoy the fast pace and high style of the next four weeks!

(source)

Reunited

I can’t believe I ever forgot how much in love I am with Eric Bana.

The refresher:

Romulus, My Father (Domestic Trailer) by ginfarang

(source)

And he’s a Leo to boot.

Highs & Lows

What did I just do?

Like others before me, it was in the spur of the moment, in the bizarre and random twist of chance, that I made a really thoughtless, impulsive decision.

Just what the hell did I get myself into?

I’m scared for myself. I didn’t think this through, just dove right in.

Why did I do this?

I’m not the same person anymore. I’m not who I thought I was.

I crossed a threshold and there’s certainly no chance of coming back.

Who have I become?

I didn’t think I had it in me. It frightens me that when left to my own devices without superimposed logic and reason I would make a decision such as this.

I’m torn and don’t know why.

Did I just lose respect for myself for choosing this path?

It’s just a step in one direction; no telling where it’ll lead me, but it was a step I had never planned on taking.

I guess I’m just in shock over what had taken place, my thoughtless action that helped to shape the situation.

I am full of regret moreso than anything at the moment.

I had always prided myself in always knowing right and wrong, and now I’m not so sure where I stand.

Maybe I should take this as proof that I am more than I realize, that I am capable of more than I thought.

I’m not the goody two-shoes I had always thought I was, always picking right over wrong.

Perhaps this is just a symptom of the transformation I’ve felt undergoing within me these past few months.

I’m shaking off my old self, my old ideals, to show I’m now becoming something much more.

The two-dimensional landscape of my character is mutating into something much more complex, inheriting a new layer of depth and conflict to contribute to all that makes up the whole.

There is a new person in me fighting for release, for his well-deserved freedom, and I can do nothing but wait and move in his own time.

Jun Boy 101*

Wilhelm Reich believed that without suppressed feelings we would not have a character, as we know it. We would all be open, free and loving in our relationships and dealings with each other.

Suppressed feelings, on the other hand, inhibit the free flow of feeling energies in our body and this causes us in our social interactions to react subconsciously to our suppressed feelings rather than to the immediate situation at hand. The various forms of inhibition of the free and natural flow and expression of feelings in different individuals are their ‘character.’

Depending on the nature of our suppressed feelings, Wilhelm Reich and his followers in bio-energetic and other forms of psychodynamic bodywork commonly distinguish between five character structures: schizoid, oral, psychopathic, masochistic and rigid. Commonly we represent mixtures of two or more of these types but with one character type usually dominant.

THE SCHIZOID CHARACTER

In the schizoid individual the main emotional trauma occurred around the time of birth. This may have been a distressing birth process or hostility from one or both parents towards the baby, commonly the baby was unwanted and it felt abandoned by the mother, either physically or emotionally.

The baby deals with this by withdrawing into itself, closing itself off from the world. This same technique is then used in later life whenever the individual feels threatened. The basic subconscious fear or anxiety is the feeling of being unwanted, having no right to exist, a psychological split between the desire to live in the physical world and a wish to withdraw into the spirit world.

In communications with others this type tends to intellectualize and use impersonal language. The body structure is with elongated limbs and digits and weak joints, the body appears uncoordinated with right-left imbalances and often cold hands and feet. The energy structure is 'ungrounded' or 'airy-fairy' with frozen core energies. Schizoids tend to be rather spiritual and creative but in need of grounding and becoming an integrated whole.

Class dismissed.


* Last, Walter. "Character Structure: The Schizoid Character,"  The World of Feelings and Emotions. (source)

Room For Squares

I put people in boxes.

My incessant need to be hyperorganized carries into the social aspect of my life more than necessary, categorizing every single individual with whom I come into contact and saving each person as a file placed into a specifically-designated location on my social roster based on personal history, interactions, behaviors, and a heavily-weighted list of pros and cons in regards to my own personal growth.

The problem with this is that I am always caught off guard and never know how to best react when the boxes in which I place these people suddenly cease to reflect the ideals I had initially hung around their neck.

While I own the fact that I myself am volatile and inconsistent, it’s a harder pill to swallow when believing others are, as well.

I crave stability, consistency— mostly, I reckon, because I lack a lot of it in regards to the foundation of my own life, so I go looking for it through my relationships and daily interactions with other people.

There are persons in my roster who definitely fill the quota of the boxes in which I place them and seldom if ever exceed the expectations I have of them that come with having been placed in a specific box.

These are the people I tend to take for granted, not appreciating what their grounding impact possesses in my life until I am no longer on the receiving end of it, or when I begin to realize the other boxes have become too small or just wrong for those for whom I created it.

It’s not my nature to initially believe that everyone out there is a dynamic human being, each individual capable of change and transcendence.

I subconsciously prefer to seek out those who carry out their existence as means to portray the “background,” perhaps to give me a setting to prove my own character dynamics, or perhaps to feed into my Reichian character structure of the schizoid*.

I constantly seek to feel safe, and what better to provide me with a pacifying feeling than a calm and grounded person to off-set my volatile and inconsistent ways?

It is within this setting do I feel most safest, most myself.

This is perhaps the reason why although I enjoy the company and adventures of loud, outgoing people, I am never one-hundred percent content when I am with them and am, in fact, rather threatened and left feeling weak and vulnerable.

This feeling of vulnerability and overall notion of being at a loss affects me the most when the people I had categorized as calm and collected (or other variations of stability and groundedness) prove spontaneously to be other than what I had previously considered them to be.

Such an unexpected realization can have a profoundly traumatizing effect on my psyche. While it can be boiled down to something superficial as a freak-out (What happened? Who is this person?), its repercussions travel deeper than what my surface portrays.

You are not who I thought you were. Our relationship is a scam. I've lost my trust in you. I no longer feel safe with you.

Sadly this is an experience I keep going through repeatedly, sometimes with the same person, but I keep at it.

This process helps to reevaluate my relationship with someone, sometimes allowing to remove them from the box I originally placed them and moving them to a bigger box with more room to grow, more room for trust.

Other times upon reevaluation, the box is simply discarded altogether without second thought, along with the person it contained.

But it’s the most hardest when I have to force myself to move those from a box closest to my heart to another one much farther.



* see next post

Git-R-Done

I need to get my shit together. ):

Although my life is going swimmingly on the surface, it feels as if I’m trapped in a chaotic jumble and that I’m struggling just to keep my head above water.

Work is going okay. Whatever. I’m scheduled, I show up, I take people’s money, I fold clothes, I go home. Nothing new there.

It’s just looking at everything not involving work does it feel like my world is falling apart.

My room is a mess.

I can’t remember which pile of clothes on the floor is clean or dirty or which need to get refolded back into its designated stack organized by department and style.

There are more dirty clothes on the floor than there are in my laundry hamper.

My textbooks are strewn all over the foot of my bed with my scarves and one half of a pair of Lacoste sneakers.

I’m not having anymore organizational success with school.

I’m missing assignments, not doing assignments, not going to class again, et cetera, et cetera.

Maybe it wasn’t as great as I thought it would be taking four bodywork classes this quarter.

Asian Bodywork, whatever. It’s not as tough as I thought it would be, but having sat out last class when we learned the Tui Na protocol on the abdomen and legs due to a sore throat really put me at a disadvantage.

I guess I can always watch the DVD, but the idea seems way too cheesy for me.

Besides, getting those treatment logs done seem very daunting. I barely have time to go to school, let alone do Tui Na on two people a week and then writing about it. Jeez…

Craniosacral Therapy, oh bother. Disregarding the fact that it’s with Andrew Grover, aka Cobra (that’s another set of issues in itself), I completely don’t get this class.

Maybe it’s because I can’t pick up the damn cranial wave while the rest of the class gloat on about their experience with it. I’m just not able to pick up other people’s subtle body energy easily, and I doubt I wanna stick around long enough to learn how.

And then, of course, more journals. One as the receiver during in-class hands-on, the other as the practitioner, and two separate experiences doing Craniosacral to other people.

Seriously, do these instructors not understand that there are students out there with a life outside of massage? Where the hell am I going to find the time (and bodies) to do two Tui Na and two Craniosacral protocols??

Fuck  these class journal entries. I barely made it through Reiki, and that class only required one  a week. Jesus.

But I guess the class is kinda interesting, given the fact that my partner this week made my arm spin all crazy just by holding my head. Go figure.

Synergistic Massage looks alright. There’s at least some Western involvement despite its heavily-influenced Asian Bodywork protocol, so I can deal. I guess I can fly through it if I at least do minimal effort and learned the protocol.

The instructor, Osi Livni, seems like a great gal. I pay more attention to her accent than what she’s teaching, however, and that gets pretty distracting.

At least there’s no journaling involved for this class, although I can be speaking too soon since it’s only the third week. Fingers crossed…

I’m just bummed I missed this week’s class since I got such a great back massage the week before. Oh, well.

Advanced Lab, can’t really complain. Back at the Wellness Center, doing the same ol’ shit. Only this time it’s at least with the same client over and over again, and more detail-intensive notes.

I kinda like SOAP notes. It’s teaching me to be more involved with the client and not treating it as just a rub down and a goodbye.

And I’m working with an HIV+ client, which puts me slightly on guard, I gotta admit.

Although, I am embarrassed to have believed my sore throat earlier this week was brought on by an HIV infection, seeing as how I had massaged my client not realizing the paper cut on my finger and the cuts on his leg. Oh, bother.

He’s a nice guy all the same, so hopefully I manage to impact his life a little better through the use of my hands, haha. (:

Now the sad thing is, whenever I do find some free time, instead of doing all those fucking journals, I just end up wasting time playing The Sims 3, which is a pretty fucking awesome game, I gotta say.

My interracial gay couple, Michael and Luis Dawson-Ortiz, has finally achieved their individual lifetime goals (man of perfect mind & body, and rockstar, respectively) and are now raising three adopted children in their amazingly-furnished 5-story house since their original child I had ended up accidentally deleting. Whoops…

Finally after playing The Sims all day, I’ve come to realize I tend to lose my hold of reality, relating my life experience per the game’s matrix, so I think it’s about time I lay off for a while to save me my sanity.

And hopefully it allots me some more free time to clean my room and do my laundry.

And those fucking journals.

(un)Wind It Up!

“Cranial Unwinding allows the body to use its own natural way to unwind itself and the therapist helps the client move his/her body by following this movement.  While the body is in movement the mind replays thought processes that happened at the time of trauma and the client has a chance to rethink and put into perspective what thoughts are of current value for the here and now.  As the body unwinds itself it loosens the tissues and opens channels that allow the flow of fluid to move in areas that were too tight to benefit from the nourishment this fluid has to offer.  It then has a chance to flow through the body's tissues, spine and the cranium in a balanced way.  Loosening of the tissues also helps to free nerve endings, thus relieving the cause of pain.”

(source)

No wonder I feel all sorts of fucked up after last night.

ESSENTIALS: one

venti black tea, double the sweetener, no ice.

form > function

The logo* of the massage & physical therapy practice I'm planning to open as the final milestone in my career:

Is it not my nature to think of the aesthetics first before actually making any concrete business decisions? Mais oui.

The slogan?

Taking the weight of the world off your shoulders.**

Inspired by the sexy Greek god, of course.

* subject to change at the next strike of inspiration
** subject to change when I come up with something better

redux.

Looks like I've made yet another* home for my random ramblings, which I must admit have been pretty few and far between lately.

I don't even know why I bother making these things when I already know its final outcome: me obsessively using it for a week or two at the most, and then letting it all fall into oblivion.

Let's hope this incarnation lasts, or at least lasts long enough to satisfy my recent urge to utilize my newly acquired Windows Live Writer.

* see: LiveJournal, Xanga, Myspace, Facebook, sundry journal hardcopies, et. al.