You've been good to me this past year, Blogger.
It's just time to move on.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
T2M #7-11
#7
0420 – 0624
Every time I stop to think about what I'm doing, a lump in my throat forms and my heart beats faster than it should.
Guess I just gotta keep my eyes facing forward and march on.
- - -
#8
Undated
I can hear the echoes of my future calling out to me.
It's only now that I am realizing what I'm giving up, but there is so much more that I stand to gain.
- - -
#9
0509 – 2122
If no man is an island, why do I feel like the world's loneliest soul?
Am I destined to feel this alone my entire life?
I know what I want, and though what I've got is good enough for some, my desire is still left unfulfilled.
I am haunted by the emptiness of solitude all the time.
My pride restrains me from reaching out.
The sea that divides me from the rest of the world is deeper than it looks, but I still wait for someone to tread those treacherous waters to seek the treasures I posses.
Hope is what nourishes me to keep me going, but is it leading me in the right direction?
- - -
#10
0522 – 1059
If I am such a forgiving person, why is the person hardest to forgive is myself?
Why is it that I don't take it easy on myself when I know the person who needs the most breaks is myself?
Why do I push myself to the extreme when everyone says to take it slow, to start off with baby steps?
I know I am an impatient person. I expect results as soon as I apply the techniques.
And damn, do I aim high in my expectations.
I guess the biggest thing I need to learn is patience.
Slow and steady wins the race, but true to form, I am already expecting myself to know this so I can move on already.
- - -
#11
0602 – 0541
I can only think, Now what?
I'm dejected, morose.
I feel as if something has been taken away from me, something that meant more to me than I thought it would now that it's gone.
I keep thinking Keep your head up, old friend., but it does nothing to mask the disappointment and shame in my eyes.
- - -
I can only ask, Why?Why did you take this away from me?
I don't know what to do now- I'm feeling at such a loss, I don't even remember which direction is up anymore.
I can't blame this for the poor decisions I've been making lately, but it feels as if I no longer have control of my life.
What the fuck do I do now??
Friday, May 14, 2010
L.I.F.E.: 10-0513
OVER BLACK.
L. (V.O.)
Today is the first day of
the rest of your life.
(beat)
Don't fuck it up.
CUT TO:
INT. L.'S BATHROOM – DAY (PRESENT)
L. (22) stands in front of the mirror in a towel, dripping wet from a fresh shower.
HE IS STARING INTENTLY BACK AT HIS REFLECTION, the gaze from his tired, wizened eyes unwavering.
FLASHBACK TO:
THAT MORNING -
L. in a tee and shorts, doing jumping jacks at the foot of his bed with a blank, distant stare.
BACK TO:
INT. L.'S BATHROOM - SAME
His hair, NOW CROPPED EXTREMELY SHORT, glistens from the sunlight streaming from a nearby mirror.
FLASHBACK TO:
L. struggles through a series of push-ups on his bedroom floor, BREATHING HEAVY and obviously having difficulty.
BACK TO:
INT. L.'S BATHROOM - SAME
FLASHBACK TO:
Sweat starts to trickle down his face as L. performs a round of sit-ups, GRUNTING IN AGONY.
BACK TO:
INT. L.'S BATHROOM - SAME
He's put on a few noticeable pounds since the last time we saw him, looking a little more solid, albeit still on the thin side.
FLASHBACK TO:
L. runs around his block, visibly in pain, GASPING FOR AIR, and soaked in sweat. He wipes a trickle from his eyes and pushes himself further.
BACK TO:
INT. L.'S BATHROOM - SAME
L. TAKES A DEEP BREATH, the reflection of his eyes never leaving his intense stare.
AFTER A MOMENT he nods back at himself in the mirror, having made up his mind out of sheer determination.
CUT TO:
INT. L.'S BEDROOM – CONTINUING
A SERIES OF QUICK FLASHCUTS as L. moves about his bedroom, consisting of L.:
a.) performing his moisturizing routine de rigeur in front of a mirror beside his bed.
b.) flipping the switch of his garment hand-steamer 'ON' with a curt CLICK.
c.) sliding the doors of his closet open, revealing A VAST SELECTION OF CLOTHES, neatly organized by style and color.
d.) selecting a conservative NAVY PINSTRIPED SHIRT and PALE GRAY WOOL DRESS PANT from the wardrobe and hanging it onto the steamer.
e.) steaming out the wrinkles from the shirt and pants to flawless perfection.
f.) slipping on the pair of pants, the trouser creases crisp and neat.
g.) buttoning up the shirt from the bottom up, stopping at the second to the last button.
h.) slapping on some Kiehl's styling wax to his cropped hair and styling it in a formal military-esque fashion.
PAN OUT to REVEAL we're in:
INT. L.'S BATHROOM – CONTINUING
L., now primped, polished, and impeccably styled, looks back at his reflection gravely and nods.
L.
Go get 'em, Tiger.
CUT TO:
INT. L.'s HOUSE – CONTINUING
L. prepares to leave the house when he is stopped by HIS MOTHER.
L.'S MOTHER
Where are you going? Work?
L.
No, I have that Navy test I told
you about. So I can get that
Nuke job. Remember?
L.'S MOTHER
Oh.
(beat)
I don't know what that means.
L. just smiles back at his mother and gives her a kiss on the cheek.
L.
I love you, Momma.
L.'S MOTHER
Love you, too. Good luck, anak.
She sees him out, watching him go with a MOTHERLY SIGH of affection.
CUT TO:
INT. NAVY RECRUITING OFFICE – TESTING ROOM – LATER
L. and ANOTHER BOY (20, confident, impatient) sit at a testing table, partitioned off from one another in the small, sparse room.
A blank answer sheet and test booklet sit before them, along with other testing materials including a few sheets of paper, three perfectly sharpened #2 pencils, and a simple calculator.
L. looks sickeningly anxious (but trying his best to hide it) as the uniformed exam proctor -- DANIEL CROMWELL, EM1(SW) (30s, wholesome, classic American good looks) -- briefs the two boys over the test.
(NOTE: He pronounces "nuclear" as "nucular.")
CROMWELL
You will be tested on your
skills in Algebra, Algebra II,
geometry, physics, and chemistry.
You must score at least 50 out
of 80 questions to be considered
a qualified candidate for the
Naval Nuclear Program. You will
have exactly 2 hours to complete
the test. Please mark all of your
answers in a neat and clear fashion.
(beat)
Any questions?
OTHER BOY
Nope.
L.
(struggling to speak)
No, sir.
CROMWELL
Very well. You have until 1430
to finish. Take your time, and
good luck to you both.
He exits the room, closing the door tightly behind him.
The Other Boy jumps right into the test.
L. TAKES A DEEP BREATH, staring at his blank answer sheet for a moment before opening his test booklet.
TIME CUT – LATER
L. stares at the open test booklet before him, stuck on question #7. His first page of scratch paper is already half-way marked with crossed-out work from the previous six questions.
He checks the time.
L.'S P.O.V. – HIS WATCH
tells him 15 minutes have elapsed.
BACK TO SCENE
He sneaks a quick glance from the corner of his eye to -
L.'S P.O.V. – THE OTHER BOY
who is seemingly flying through the test.
BACK TO SCENE
L. looks back at his test booklet, SWALLOWS HARD.
L.'S P.O.V. – E.C.U. TEST BOOKLET
"7. A 50-kilogram firefighter is on a ladder 10 meters above the ground. When the firefighter descends to 5 meters above the ground, the firefighter's gravitational potential energy will decrease by
A) 0.194 joules.
B) 5.10 joules.
C) 490 joules.
D) 2450 joules."
BACK TO SCENE
L. stares intensely at the question, frustrated and frightened as he struggles to find a way to work out a solution.
Finally he gives up and just fills in a random bubble on his answer sheet.
He moves onto the next question.
L.'S P.O.V. – E.C.U. TEST BOOKLET
"8. A ball is dropped from rest from a height 6.0 meters above the ground. The ball falls freely and reaches the ground 1.1 seconds later. What is the average speed of the ball?
A) 5.5 m/s
B) 6.1 m/s
C) 6.6 m/s
D) 11 m/s"
BACK TO SCENE
L. scrunches up his brows in pure frustration.
L.
(under his breath)
Give me a fuckin' break.
TIME CUT – LATER
L.'s on question #34, having already gone through two pages of scratch paper (both sides) and is on to his second pencil.
He's sweating bullets as he reads the question.
L.'S P.O.V. – E.C.U. TEST BOOKLET
"34. The specific heat of copper is about 0.4 joules/gram ºC. How much heat is needed to change the temperature of a 30-gram sample of copper from 20.0 ºC to 60.0 ºC?
A) 1000 J
B) 720 J
C) 480 J
D) 240 J"
BACK TO SCENE
L.'s face contorts to that of desperation and panic, just as Cromwell returns to the room.
CROMWELL
Gentlemen, it is 1330. You have
exactly one hour to complete the
exam. How are we doing?
THE OTHER BOY
Good.
L.
(small)
G-Good, sir.
Cromwell peers over The Other Boy's shoulder, seeing that he's currently working his way through question #62.
CROMWELL
Very good.
He peers over at L.'s answer sheet, noting where he is in regards to time.
L. SWALLOWS HARD, avoiding looking at the exam proctor in the eyes.
Cromwell places a reassuring hand on L.'s shoulder, giving him a polite and encouraging smile.
CROMWELL (CONT'D)
(gently, sotto: L.)
Just take your time and try
to do your best. You still
have one hour.
L.
(nods, small)
Yes, sir.
CROMWELL
(addressing both)
Very well, then. Continue.
He exits.
L. EXHALES FORCEFULLY and resumes his test, feeling defeated and embarrassed.
CUT TO:
INT. NAVY RECRUITING OFFICE – MAIN ROOM – LATER
L. exits the exam room and into the main room of recruiters' desks, tentative and wary.
All desks are empty of their respective recruiters except the one farthest away from L., where Cromwell and The Other Boy are CHATTING.
They STOP CONVERSING upon hearing L.'s approach and turn to him, causing L. to stop dead in his tracks.
Cromwell gives L. an amiable smile.
CROMWELL
How was it?
L. hesitates to answer.
CROMWELL (CONT'D)
Fun?
L. cracks a nervous smile, unsure how to respond.
L.
Barrels of.
(beat)
Sir.
Cromwell gestures for L. to sit beside The Other Boy.
CROMWELL
Come, sit. We were just discussing
the Nuclear Program. You can listen
in, maybe learn a thing or two.
L. tentatively sits beside The Other Boy as Cromwell resumes his account.
CROMWELL (CONT'D)
So after boot camp, that's nine
weeks of hell right there, you've
got what we call your 'A' School,
and you're there for about, say,
4 months. Then it's on to Power
School, and that's 6 months. So
starting out, it's a lot of time
spent in classrooms, lot of book-
learning, things like that. Then
after that, if you volunteered
to be in a sub . . .
His voice TRAILS OFF the soundtrack as we SLOW PAN TOWARDS -
C.U. - L.'S FACE
which is consumed by a poorly-constructed mask to hide the sinking fear and disappointment he's feeling inside.
CUT TO:
EXT. L.'S NEIGHBORHOOD – EVENING
L. makes his way home, his walk an unconscious studied tribute to the military's drill & ceremony standards, albeit a bit stiff.
He keeps his eyes trained on the horizon as he marches on, but his face betrays the confidence he's trying so hard to project.
Upon closer look, it's obvious he is visibly shaken. Terrified.
CUT TO:
INT. L.'S HOUSE – LATER
L. enters, carrying a box of chocolates. He closes the door behind him QUIETLY and heads for his bedroom when the SOUND OF HIS MOTHER'S VOICE catches him off-guard.
L.'S MOTHER (O.S.)
How was it?
L. pauses in the hallway for a moment, collecting himself before turning to find his mother on the sofa with a cup of tea.
L.
(haltingly)
It was fine.
L.'S MOTHER
"Fine?"
L.
Yeah. Fine.
L.'s Mother peers at her son closely, a concerned look on her face.
L.'S MOTHER
Come here. Sit down.
L.
Nah, that's okay. I'm kinda
tired and I just wanna take
a nap right now . . .
But L.'s Mother is not having it. She sets her cup of tea down onto the coffee table and looks back at L. gravely.
L.'S MOTHER
(no nonsense)
L., sit.
L. decides against putting up a fight and joins his mother, sitting on the opposite chair farthest from her.
L.'S MOTHER (CONT'D)
Tell me about it.
L.
What's there to tell? I went,
I took the test, I bombed.
End of story.
He opens the box of chocolates he brought home with him and begins to dig in, searching for some kind of comfort among the wrappers.
L.'S MOTHER
What do you mean, "bombed?"
Is that a nuclear joke?
(reaching for the chocolates)
Give me some.
L. hands her the box reluctantly. He peels out of his shirt and kicks off his shoes as he continues.
L.
No, Momma. It means I wasted
my time. The test asked questions
on subjects I had in high school
that I didn't even know the answers
to when I was in high school.
(beat)
I . . .
(with great difficulty)
I failed it, Momma.
L.'S MOTHER
Don't say that, anak.
L.
I did. I failed that test.
L.'S MOTHER
How do you know? Did they tell
you what you got on it?
L.
No, I won't find out until
tomorrow.
He stuffs his face with more chocolate, not finding any solace.
L.'S MOTHER
Then how do you know you failed
it when you don't even know
what you got?
L. stops, mid-chew, to consider this.
L.
I did so poorly. I struggled
with so many of the questions.
I barely finished the test
on time.
L.'S MOTHER
As long as you did your best,
that's all that anyone can
ask for, anak.
L. gives her an ironic smile.
L.
That's such a motherly thing
to say.
L.'S MOTHER
Of course. Aren't I not your
mother?
A rogue tear appears in L.'s eye. He is quick to dispatch it to the back of his hand, but not before being caught by his mother.
L.
I don't know what I'm going
to do if I didn't pass this
test. I don't . . . I don't
have a back-up plan if this
fails. I have to get this.
L.'S MOTHER
Don't say such things. God
has a plan for you, whether
or not you pass the test.
He has a plan for you, and
it is good.
L. gives her a skeptical glance.
L.
How can you be so sure?
L.'S MOTHER
How can you not be? You just
have to believe that God has
good things planned for you.
I believe that.
L.
(sardonic)
Yeah, I'm sure he does.
L.'S MOTHER
Don't you dare talk like that
about God to me.
L. is immediately caught off-guard by his mother's sudden impassioned tone. She softens her voice.
L.'S MOTHER (CONT'D)
I was like you once. For 35
years, I wished and I prayed
for something I wanted so
badly, every single day. I
waited 35 years for it. I
suffered so much for it,
wanted it so bad that it hurt
deep down inside. You know
that kind of want?
L. can only nod. It's the same kind of hunger he himself has.
L.'S MOTHER (CONT'D)
And I finally got it, but even
till now, I haven't gotten all
of what I wanted. You understand?
Another tear slips out from L.'s eyes. This time he doesn't bother to hide it.
L.
You mean me. For 35 years, all
you ever wanted was a boy,
and you finally got him.
(bitterly)
But he wasn't exactly what
you wished for. Wasn't he?
Because he's gay.
(beat, disgusted)
What a cruel joke from God.
L.'S MOTHER
It's not a cruel joke. I don't
think of you as a cruel joke.
L.'s tears stream freely now. He STIFLES A SOB as he stuffs another piece of chocolate into his mouth.
L.'S MOTHER (CONT'D)
God was trying to teach me
a lesson, the same thing He
is trying to teach you: be
patient. Be forgiving. Some-
times what you think you
really want isn't in God's
plan for you, because He
has something better in mind.
She reaches across the space between them and takes L.'s hand in her own.
L.'S MOTHER
I love you, anak. No matter
who you are. No matter what
you do. No matter whether
or not you pass a test.
L.
I just want to make you proud
of me, Momma.
L.'S MOTHER
You think I'm not? I am! I'm
proud of you, L. So, so proud.
I thank God every day for you.
I don't need a test to tell
me to be proud of my son.
L. shakes his head, covering his face with his hand as he tries to wipe away his tears.
L.
If you're so proud of me,
why can't I be proud of myself?
L.'s Mother's face falls in sympathy. She gets it now.
She reaches for her son's hand again and holds it tightly against her chest.
L.'S MOTHER
Oh, son. No. No, you can't
think that way. You have to
be proud of yourself first,
before anyone else can be.
You have a lot to be proud
of, anak. You are smart, no
matter what that test says.
L.
This isn't about that test
anymore, Momma. Don't you
get it? I have people everyday
telling me they believe in
me. Telling me how smart I
am. Telling me how talented
I am. Telling me everything
I want to hear, that I can
do anything I want to if I
just put my mind to it, but
at the end of the day, I still
can't believe it.
L.'S MOTHER
Then you better start believing
it, L. You are my son. There is
nothing out there you cannot do
if you work hard it. You have
to be determined first to believe
you can do it, and the rest is
up to God. You just have to have
faith. That's all.
L.
(panicked)
But how? How am I supposed to
have faith in myself when I don't
have faith in anything else?!
He begins BREATHING HEAVILY, hyperventilating almost, as he struggles to get the words out.
L. (CONT'D)
Momma, help me. Please.
Momma, I can't breathe.
L.'s Mother immediately leaps to her feet and helps her son lay out on the sofa.
L.'S MOTHER
Here. Just lie down. Breathe
slowly now. In, out. In, out.
He does so, forcing himself to BREATHE SLOWLY.
L.
Momma, I can't feel my face.
I can't open my eyes!
L.'S MOTHER
Just relax. You're having a
panic attack. Your face is
all red. Just try to relax,
and keep breathing.
L.
Okay.
L.'s Mother breaks away towards the kitchen. Feeling her no longer at his side, L. starts to panic.
L.
Momma?!
L.'S MOTHER
I'm getting you some water.
L.
Okay. Okay.
L.'S MOTHER
Just breathe, anak. Deep
breaths now, just like that.
Here, drink this.
She returns to her son's side with a glass of water. He takes it from her and finishes it off in one gulp.
L.'S MOTHER (CONT'D)
Another?
L.
Yes. Please.
L.'S MOTHER
Okay. Just relax.
She goes to grab another glass of water, returning promptly. L. finishes it off quickly as the first glass, his BREATHING SLOWED.
L.'S MOTHER (CONT'D)
Feeling better?
L. nods.
L.'S MOTHER (CONT'D)
Good.
She sits beside him on the sofa and takes his hand, kisses it softly.
L.
Thank you, Momma.
(beat)
I love you.
L.'S MOTHER
I love you, anak.
She tenderly strokes his cheek as he slowly gives into exhaustion, letting sleep overcome him.
FADE OUT.
THE END.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Tragedy
Sorry.
I'm only human.
You know me.
Grown up- oh, no.
Guess again.
My days always dry up and blow away.
Sometimes I could do that, too.
But make no mistake.
When you need a friend, you could count on anyone.
But you know I'll defend the tragedy that we knew as the end.
Progress, changing.
Growing, then giving up.
Somehow we're never quite prepared.
But I understand it.
When you need a friend, you could count on anyone.
But you know I'll defend the tragedy that we knew as the end.
So, taking you with me would be like taking all your money to the grave.
It does no good to anyone.
Especially the one you're trying to save.
But it's so hard not to save.
When you need a friend, you could count on anyone.
But you know I'll defend the tragedy that we knew as the end.
You know I'll defend the tragedy that we knew as the end.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
