a letter to remind me.

Life is so strange. I've never really thought about how little skill I have at writing letters, and how little I really have to convey with them. I finally read the letter of an old friend of mine. I met them during a bad time in my life, and while I treated them badly then, we've still managed to hammer out one of the stranger relationships that I have. We don't talk often, and when we're around each other we spend most of the time in silence, simply sitting oddly comfortable in each others presence. They were a balm of sorts for me once, and I think I've taken on that rule now... But it's just strange. It's a friendship I expect to read about, not live. It's straight from a John Irving novel. I suppose I'm talking about it here as a way to make less unreal. It exists because it's put down to words.

Any how, I owe them a letter, along with a number of people. Life is simply too numbing at the moment for me. What would I write? "Oh, hey, you know how it is. Just working everyday, sneaking in what film projects that I can, enjoying as each feels less useful and more a waste of my time than the last. Ah well! At least I occasionally work in a visit to a friend to break up the routine!" I play League Of Legends (badly), work (the minimum possible, but I've found ways to convince myself to keep at it), eat (unhealthily), and sleep (the last part here is a lie, typically.)

That's the current life.

I Have decided, though, that I would rather swallow a bullet than ever be one of the people that come through a gas station regularly (i.e. Daily). Honestly. That's not even an idle comment.

Fuck. I have to have something worth talking about beyond that. What is my opinion on something controversial...

The Beatles were ok?

Ok, ok. Whatever. So! No more facebook. Tis old news by now, but it feels like something that should be explained.

I don't like all the people that think I like them.

That's a big part of it. I grew very tired of reading about the everyday bullshit happenings in peoples lives who meant nothing to me beyond not caring to have the "we're not really friends" conversation. When half the people on my friends list became me conceding, I figured it was time to stop. Between my phone, google+, skype, and twitter, I can keep in touch with the important ones. The others... We'll, it's probably best to let those just fade away.

Friends lists... What a ridiculously high school concept anyway. It's the saddest popularity contest, even if you're not trying to collect friends. Just making the decision of what people to keep just so you don't have to be awkwardly caught after deleting them is depressing. So, no facebook. And nothing of value was lost.

Fragile Art

rain.

.It's a beautiful night for rain. It's so perfect, a brilliant book ending, and nature doing her best to cleanse me. I feel just so alive right now.

This book, A Book Thief... It's something. I've dreaded finishing it for close to a year. I've always kept it close, but I knew that it'd be a powerful ending. I just wasn't ready, you know? He kept teasing me with what was to come, letting me know the ending, but not the direct steps to it, and never quite hinting at the powerful words he'd use to describe it all.

I find it hard to put it into words. Out was jotted down with such tenderness, it was heartbreaking. It started so slow, it made me anxious, and then when he finally got to it, to the real ending, I could feel tears welling up. I'm sitting here in a dingy, messy getgo office, listening to mem work right outside the open doorway. As they lay down our new floor, I'm finding myself almost sobbing. He made me care so much for Hans and Rosa, for Rudy. You'd have to be a monster to not care for them as much as I did in the end. There I am, tears just doing what tears do. Fucking hot damn, mister Markus Zusak. Thank you for that.

I needed it. It's been a day, honestly. A good one, a bad one. Visited old stomping grounds, took a small step towards finishing my degree. I stole time with friends, held hands, kissed cheeks, hugged for minutes, drank in of them. This is what life is about. Screw all those fancy ideas of careers, legacies, change and money. Life is friendship. It's sharing moments. It's trading in care and love, the important passions. I prefer to fill my life with those, with a tiny amount of time set aside for lesser things like accruing money and making a name for myself. If it were possible to keep these people all in one place, I don't think I'd even care much to do that. Sadly, they all seem interested in living their own lives and chasing dreams and such.

Whatever.

So, to make continual contact possible, I suppose I should work on this career and money thing. So sad.

One more visit to iup is planned for tomorrow, and filled already with friends. A late lunch with a friendship I am hoping I can rekindle, a day with a friend who needs all the love he can get right now, and a place offered to comfortably sleep and talk.

What a delightful life.

I love how something like a good movie or book enlivens me. The absolute best drug.

Fragile Art

five miles.

In actuality, it happened a couple days ago, but I finally hit the 5 mile mark for running. Lauren, my ruining buddy/coach, took me through a winding Oakland course she'd devised, and at the end of it, we measured in somewhere around 5.2 miles.

It wasn't an ideal run of it, as I'd love to lie and report. There were times that I had to take a moment to let my legs refresh, either from being gassed by hills, or dealing with troubling knee/ankle pains.

But fuck you. I ran 5 miles. Don't be a jerk. (Even if I'm just talking to myself. If you aren't thinking me lame for not going stronger, you can rest assured that "fuck you" wasn't intended for you.)

Anyhow, it's just stupidly exciting that I can run now without getting tired. If not for hills, I feel like I could run almost any reasonable distance. There was a point during the run that I just couldn't believe I was still going strong. It was surreal, something that wouldn't have seemed feasible not even three months ago. It's not that impressive, but I'm proud of it.

Had another Redeye Theatre last saturday. I love 24 hour theatre, but oh how it makes me yearn for days when I had a real full length to put up. I mean, the experience of slowly becoming a recognized piece of a theatrical machine is always delightful, but it's not quite what Tost felt like. I'm so ready to move up to something bigger, something with more pressure and a chance to actually fail. Both this, being redeye, and Tost are/were gentle. Less than professional, relaxed. I want that feeling of nervous anticipation. That special kind of anxiety that comes with the chance of Not getting the E-mail telling you that you got the part. Patience, though. I have to muster some patience, no matter how hard it gets.

There will always be time, and when there isn't anymore, I won't be around for it to matter. Yay!

I love that I'm ending this on that note.

Fragile Art.