i have to write a 15 page screenplay this semester. my 3 acts are due tomorrow morning. i waited for this class for so long and now i have no idea what to write.
my professor is the sweetest man i've ever met. it's his last year of teaching and i can tell he wants to pull some Dead Poets Society shit. he sends us e-mails everyday, telling us that creativity is not as easy as math. get rest, life is more enjoyable. be patient with yourself. he gets tears in his eyes every week because he tells us all about his past and his loneliness as he grows older. it's sobering and it's weird because i want to make him proud but know i will probably throw together an alien B-movie horror script so i can scrape by with a C.
i've been living nervously, but happily. it's almost a year with my boyfriend. he wouldn't mind me writing about him but keeping with my old paranoid songmeanings tradition, i'll call him J.
we live together, we do almost everything together. split the rent right down the middle. go to fort fisher in the morning and stare down sand crab holes. take shot for shot til we fall asleep on the floor with all the lights on.
we've been through a lot together, he's been through more alone. i've had to deal with police knocks on my door, trips to the courthouse, giving him rides to weekly meetings. i don't know if he's getting better, but if he does i'll be there. everyone tells me i'm so good for helping him, for standing by him and that i'll make him a better man. that's not what i'm trying to do, i'm not one for fixing. i get off track a lot but i'm happy, i'm happy waiting for it all to pass.
I don't see my friends much anymore, i moved to the other beach, but they still keep my heart full. I'm still inspired by the same things--the east coast sunrise, broken windowed neon lights, long walks at night where i probably shouldn't be walking. smoke from cigarettes I shouldn't be smoking. eccentric gibberish from my dad who can't really talk anymore. the first burn of coffee on my tongue because I'm always too impatient to wait. I still romanticize everything and like K says, it will be my downfall. it has been since I was young.
i'm scared that as i'm getting older i'm getting more dependent on medication, on chemicals. i don't see my family as much as i want to, and when i do i wonder if i should even be there. i want to take trips, but i'm scared i'm wasting my time at a restaurant job so i can pay bills. letting older men speak down to me because i didn't bring their bread out fast enough, letting people who pay me take advantage of me because i'm a broke student. i haven't read vonnegut in a while but still i know, so it goes.
even this post is a form of procrastination, but i know that i need to write my consciousness to clear my head. a bunch of superficial lines about my life, like i'm talking to the former me sitting in my room blowing smoke out the window after school. two years later my mom admitted to me that she always knew what i was doing up there and just wanted to leave me be.
i'm excited to get out of this town after 5 years here, but J is on probation for 2. i can wait. but everyday i feel the itch of where i'm gonna end up, much like the high school me dreaming about the beach. and i wonder if my whole life will be spent trying to be somewhere else, getting tired, and going. I'm ok with it.
i'll post an update on my screenplay. it'll probably be about aliens.
i have to write a 15 page screenplay this semester. my 3 acts are due tomorrow morning. i waited for this class for so long and now i have no idea what to write.
my professor is the sweetest man i've ever met. it's his last year of teaching and i can tell he wants to pull some Dead Poets Society shit. he sends us e-mails everyday, telling us that creativity is not as easy as math. get rest, life is more enjoyable. be patient with yourself. he gets tears in his eyes every week because he tells us all about his past and his loneliness as he grows older. it's sobering and it's weird because i want to make him proud but know i will probably throw together an alien B-movie horror script so i can scrape by with a C.
i've been living nervously, but happily. it's almost a year with my boyfriend. he wouldn't mind me writing about him but keeping with my old paranoid songmeanings tradition, i'll call him J.
we live together, we do almost everything together. split the rent right down the middle. go to fort fisher in the morning and stare down sand crab holes. take shot for shot til we fall asleep on the floor with all the lights on.
we've been through a lot together, he's been through more alone. i've had to deal with police knocks on my door, trips to the courthouse, giving him rides to weekly meetings. i don't know if he's getting better, but if he does i'll be there. everyone tells me i'm so good for helping him, for standing by him and that i'll make him a better man. that's not what i'm trying to do, i'm not one for fixing. i get off track a lot but i'm happy, i'm happy waiting for it all to pass.
I don't see my friends much anymore, i moved to the other beach, but they still keep my heart full. I'm still inspired by the same things--the east coast sunrise, broken windowed neon lights, long walks at night where i probably shouldn't be walking. smoke from cigarettes I shouldn't be smoking. eccentric gibberish from my dad who can't really talk anymore. the first burn of coffee on my tongue because I'm always too impatient to wait. I still romanticize everything and like K says, it will be my downfall. it has been since I was young.
i'm scared that as i'm getting older i'm getting more dependent on medication, on chemicals. i don't see my family as much as i want to, and when i do i wonder if i should even be there. i want to take trips, but i'm scared i'm wasting my time at a restaurant job so i can pay bills. letting older men speak down to me because i didn't bring their bread out fast enough, letting people who pay me take advantage of me because i'm a broke student. i haven't read vonnegut in a while but still i know, so it goes.
even this post is a form of procrastination, but i know that i need to write my consciousness to clear my head. a bunch of superficial lines about my life, like i'm talking to the former me sitting in my room blowing smoke out the window after school. two years later my mom admitted to me that she always knew what i was doing up there and just wanted to leave me be.
i'm excited to get out of this town after 5 years here, but J is on probation for 2. i can wait. but everyday i feel the itch of where i'm gonna end up, much like the high school me dreaming about the beach. and i wonder if my whole life will be spent trying to be somewhere else, getting tired, and going. I'm ok with it.
i'll post an update on my screenplay. it'll probably be about aliens.