What's funny about this scene in my life right now is that it's eerily quiet, even though my speakers are set on 09 (a respectable volume) and this poor, antiquated PowerBook is fanning it's innards furiously.

I can hear a pin drop in my head. I can feel it bounce off the hollow surfaces and writhe it's way down into my heart.

Before the presses of positivity come screeching to an abrupt halt and "emo" takes over, I must explain that it is not an occurrence that warrants depression and despondence. Rather, it's the routine I have nestled myself into. We'll see where it leads me, I suppose.

I'm writing a screenplay right now. For a MAJOR motion picture (in contrast with a minor motion picture). It's going well. I like it a lot.

LOGLINE: When aliens from the far reaches of the universe take over a small civilization of humans, an inquiring communications expert and his best friend must convince the rest of the population to fight back.

What's it about? Betrayal. Trust. Despair. This is more political than sci-fi. The planet is in a dire state of disrepair and a small colony of humans, based in Southern California, are working diligently to make the planet inhabitable again. Their efforts are not sufficient, however, so they turn to some allies-a race of aliens that have helped them before.

Everyone trusts said aliens and everything is good. Until the main character uncovers a secret agenda. The pages that follow subsequently feature copious amounts of foul language, blood, sex, and explosions.

My goal is that this will keep the less-keen involved, while an exponentiating storyline will grab the more observant viewer. Who knows what will happen.



Why'd I bring that up? Because it's where the story is at right now. My main character is in silence, reflecting on what to do. Just like me.

Ambiguous silence enveloping cognition is always an awkward feeling. But I'm 99% sure it's not enough to make me emo.

I am growing my hair out, though....

:/