Why It’s Been Ten Months.

I’d like to say it’s because I’ve been out living a life. But sorry, Frankie Muniz in that one episode of Criminal Minds, I don’t really do that.

Well, I have a semblance of one. I’m in New Zealand, so that’s fun and exciting, right? But I’ve also been staring at my laptop screen in New Zealand for the past four hours. So, less fun and less exciting.

I suppose I’ve been devoid of heart squishers lately. I’ve had the odd excitement, never lasting in time measured in more than weeks or actually existing much anywhere outside the mental workspace medicalnewstoday.com says houses my imagination. But Florian totally did flirt with me, despite the language barrier. So, I’ve had a little less angst (still a lot because, come on, that’s me) and a lot more time to try to Know Thy Myself. Steps in the right direction perhaps. Not that I’ve actually been developing as a complete person. I’m not that productive.

I also have been poeming around the Tumblr some, so that’s been catching more of my spaghetti.

And I also kind of forgot I had this. That’s a main reason.

What made me remember this was Oscar Issac. I was being an freaking idiot (thanks a lot, Rachel) and watching a really long interview with him on YouTube because that’s what the cool kids do at an Airbnb in Kawakawa at 7:30pm, and something reminded me I had this wordpress and I had something to write here but then I of course started reading all the old posts and pushing my initial idea out of my  head by thinking all these other thoughts, most of them along the lines of “man, I was a crap writer in 2011 and 12.” And so now  I don’t even know AND I KEEP FUCKING LAYING MY FAT PALMS ON THE TRACKPAD AND ACCIDENTALLY MISTYPING THINGS AND OPENING UP WEIRD THINGS ON ACCIDENT FUCK. Ok I’m fine.

I really wonder if I’ll ever realize my scripts. I hope so. It would be a shame for all of those hours I spent in bed eight counting fight choreography to Big Bad Wolf to go to waste (pale reader, fuck off this idea it’s mine coming soon/never to a theater near you). Oh, I might need to actually write it. And in Celtx instead of scribble typing in Notepad. And I should transcribe the autobiography too while I’m at it. Fingers crossed copy+paste will fully work on that one.

Another observation that I’ve made before and am once again feeling feelings about: I need to stop potentially ruining things by overthinking and analyzing and researching. I need to shield my eyes and set my lasers from stun to kill. OR, conversely/contrariwise, I should get a grip (Lyle) and stop even thinking there’s anything to potentially ruin. Because I’m awful and I’m never going to be Jell-O OR crème brûlée OR basically any dessert besides that gross dollar store chocolate that tastes like chemicals and like it’s been stored near oranges for some reason.

But maybe just maybe me and him will duet to La Tortura someday because he does speak Spanish, I know because I Googled him fuck me.

I hope I can audition to be Moana in a park. And, prior to that, I hope the movie is good and has good songs in my range (i.e. basically baritone).

I also need to find a swimsuit top for Samoa. And a sense of the opposite of inhibition.


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