Watched "The Notebook"

Yeah so I watched "The Notebook"...yeah I'm a sucker for those kinda flicks
Its so depressing because well in the end its all true. We don't choose who we love, we don't choose why it happens. It just does.

Yet even in certain defeat, the courageous Trager clung to the belief that life is not merely a series of meaningless accidents or coincidences...

Johnathan Trager, prominent television producer for ESPN, died last night from complications of losing his soul mate and his fiancee. He was 35 years old. Soft-spoken and obsessive, Trager never looked the part of a hopeless romantic. But, in the final days of his life, he revealed an unknown side of his psyche. This hidden quasi-Jungian persona surfaced during the Agatha Christie-like pursuit of his long reputed soul mate, a woman whom he only spent a few precious hours with. Sadly, the protracted search ended late Saturday night in complete and utter failure. Yet even in certain defeat, the courageous Trager clung to the belief that life is not merely a series of meaningless accidents or coincidences. Uh-uh. But rather, its a tapestry of events that culminate in an exquisite, sublime plan. Asked about the loss of his dear friend, Dean Kansky, the Pulitzer Prize-winning author and executive editor of the New York Times, described Johnathan as a changed man in the last days of his life. "Things were clearer for him," Kansky noted. Ultimately Johnathan concluded that if we are to live life in harmony with the universe, we must all possess a powerful faith in what the ancients used to call "fatum", what we crrently refer to as destiny.

Unfinished Scene From Teaching Shakespeare...I've been writing too much lately

ANGELA
Please give me a second chance

WILLIAM
You don’t deserve one

ANGELA
Yes I do, please just give me another chance

WILLIAM
When did you earn your chance, when you slept with Eric?

ANGELA
I was drunk

WILLIAM
That’s a bullshit excuse

ANGELA
I don’t love him

WILLIAM
You don’t love anyone

ANGELA
I love you

WILLIAM
I don’t even know you

ANGELA
Yes you do

WILLIAM
Let me rephrase that, I don’t want to know you

ANGELA
WILLIAM wait

WILLIAM
What ready to feed me more lies?

ANGELA
No I want to tell you the truth

WILLIAM
Oh this’ll be good

ANGELA
WILLIAM I love you

WILLIAM
That’s it?

ANGELA
Yeah

WILLIAM
Well how about you go feed that bullshit to somebody who’ll believe it

ANGELA
Why are you acting like this?

WILLIAM
You think I don’t have a right to?

ANGELA
I said I was sorry about Eric

WILLIAM
Sorry doesn’t cut it ANGELA, you slept with him, god knows why, but you slept with him

ANGELA
It didn’t mean anything to mean

WILLIAM
Keep telling yourself that, maybe it’ll be true one day

ANGELA
I was frustrated because you wouldn’t even touch me

WILLIAM
So that gives you the right to sleep with another guy

ANGELA
No, nothing gives me that right; I am telling you point blank the honest to god truth about what I did

WILLIAM
And what do you want me to do?

ANGELA
Just listen, and realize that I am truly sorry

WILLIAM
I don’t think I can do that

ANGELA
Do you know how many guys I’ve dated?

WILLIAM
God only knows, 500

ANGELA
52

WILLIAM
I was close

ANGELA
Out of all those guys, all 52 of ‘em it took my 53rd to realize what I was missing

WILLIAM
If at first you don’t succeed I guess

ANGELA
I think I told every single one of them that I was in love with them, but it was a lie

WILLIAM
Seems common with you

ANGELA
It took me a while to realize what I was missing, why I didn’t feel like I was even committed to any of these guys

WILLIAM
And what was that?

ANGELA
It was a who

WILLIAM
Who was that?

ANGELA
You, I was missing you

WILLIAM
That’s heartfelt and all, a real tear jerker, but I'm sick of playing this game. You can’t lie like this, saying that I was your first love or some bullshit like that

ANGELA
It isn’t bullshit

WILLIAM
How can I believe that?

ANGELA
Why did you kiss me?

WILLIAM
Because it felt right?

ANGELA
Because it felt like love

WILLIAM
Because I was duped into thinking it was love

ANGELA
I would never dupe you

WILLIAM
How can I be so sure of that?

ANGELA
You just have to trust me

WILLIAM
Ha, as if I could trust you ever again

ANGELA
How can I earn back your trust?

WILLIAM
You can’t, you lost it once

I bleed for my films

Teaching Shakespeare - Scene 1, Act 1

INT. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE’S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
A long couch sits off kilter as books and magazines litter the floor. Within the abundance of clutter on the couch staring out the window sits a young man, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, barely older then his 21st year of life. He stares out the window as the echo of a recent conversation reverberates through his mind.

ANGELA (V.O.)
What makes you so certain I’ll be here in the morning? What makes you so certain of anything that comes with the next sunrise. Never lie to me like that again, never. I can’t believe I put my heart out there for you WILLIAM, I was stupid, an idiot for allowing my heart to be taken in such careless hands...but here I am now staring in the eyes of a boy, not even a man, a boy who has no concept of what he has done to me heart. You’re crushing me William, there is no excuse for what you’ve done to me, but yet you still sit there and act as if nothing has happened. What kind of person can be so cold, so bitter towards someone who they once uttered the word “love” to? How can you treat me in such a way? Have you no heart, no soul? Damn it William, damn it all. You have played with your last heart and I have lent mine out for the last time. I hope you enjoy eternity alone and bitter, may hell treat you better then life has.

A door slams and William still sits, alone in the apartment. The voice in his head still echoes with a passion he has felt all to often. He keeps staring out the window

WILLIAM
The next sun will rise, the next moon will fall and I, I will still be without love, without the passion that I thought was with me this time, with her. From the moment I touched Allison’s face, that milky soft face, I knew, I knew she would be the death of me, but I did not know if that was in the physical or emotional sense...and now I am still uncertain.

William gets up off of his couch and turns from his window

WILLIAM
It would be to simple to kill myself, where is the honor in that, the dignity, the passion? Slitting my wrists, stepping in front of a bus, all those are too good for me, all far to simple of fates for someone as horrific as me. God, I ruined her, I made her turn into the person she hates...yet I, I stayed the same, I never change. How can this be? I love and I let go...I feel then I lose the neuron receptors in a blink of an eye. I loved her, still love her, yet I know full well in my heart that I don’t deserve such perfection...it was I who put this one to death, a slow and painful romantic end. The death of a relationship, dear lord I could write a novel, if I wasn’t so abhorred at the idea of writing non-fiction I would, but instead I’ll stick to my life of pure bullshit, tis better that way, no one gets hurt in a land where you create the reality, no one can feel the pain, the anger, the anguish that is bestowed upon them, because in the end, when my finger taps the last key on the last page I can always give them a happily ever after...but where is my happily ever after? Where is my realm of unreality. So many others slip into this realm called love, allowing it to conquer all fears all other hopes...yet I never can. I “mutter the words” yet I know not what they mean. I speak so eloquently, yet I don’t know in which manner the words flow. I am a con in a sense, a con with no purpose other then to amuse my muse, till she bores with me and moves on to her true love. I seem to be that gas station on Route 66 that all great women must pass through to get to their golden western perfection of a man. I can honesty say I am the reason for 3 marriages in the past 4 years, that has to be some kind of a record. What kind of man am I to not be ruthless and cunning? Am I chicken? I think not, but that’s just my lil’ ole’ brain talking. I’ve been told so many times what I am to people, who I am to people, that I think I’ve lost it all in the jumble...Who is WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE? Who is this man who hides behind sonnets and soliloquies. Am I really what they say, am I love’s perfection, hence why nothing and no one can be good enough to be with me? That’s not arrogant is it? Does it really matter if its arrogant? No one can stand and say they’ve never believed the praise they receive just as much as no man can say he hasn’t hit his shoes with a bit of piss now and then, however no man can say he has pleased so many women, without ever having to remove an article of clothing...I take pride in that fact for one reason and one reason only, because a gentleman’s lifestyle is based on three things alone, love, career, and his walk, not in that order of course.
A man’s gout is what sets him apart from every other animal on this earth, it isn’t his urge to be more creative, his control of his sexual appetite, or lack there of, instead it is simply how a man walks. His stride, how each foot pats the floor in front of the other, such as when he walks with a fine young lady or when he hops over a puddle as not to get his 200 dollar wingtips dirty. My walk, my stance on this planet, has slipped into what can be characterized as pathetic...possibly the best word to describe such a washed up loser as myself. I wasted the perfect beauty, so here dear William walks, strolling his apartment, when only a few short hours ago he would be strolling a park with the fair Angela.
Fucking, bloody hell. Fuck it all, you don’t know my pain, you will never know my pain. You pricks, you assholes, you will never know what I feel, the only thing you can know is why...but that story and Angela mean far to much to allow just any man or woman to listen to...however I can immortalize it in one true place, in fiction, where all the great stories of my mind lie. God save the poor fool who dares ever think of this story as a creation of the mind, for no imagination could ever dream the amount of pain I am sorting through right now...God have mercy on the poor man’s soul.

- From the work in progress "Teaching Shakespeare" -

So yeah I decided...

I decided to get the hell off of Xanga and come on over to here, I mean blogs are for people who have no life and constantly write all the time...perfect for me, but Xanga is like the ultimate tool site, so here I am. I'm gonna transfer a lot of my other stuff from Xanga on over so...yeah, get ready for some freaky shit

Does she still exist...yeah, she does

I lie awake thinking about her...is that creepy, thinking about someone you know you can't have? I miss her so much, it just felt weird for the longest time to think I'd never see her ever again, but then that one moment I did see her, it was incredible, it felt like nothing changed...but well everything has changed. We've grown up, grown apart more then likely, but that doesn't make any difference right? There's still that one in a million shot that maybe some crazy day in the future I may be able to sit across the table from her and smile and just know that at that moment that if the world ended that'd be "a" OK, because for a second time in my life, it would all be bliss.

What I'm doing here

God it sucks to have all these crazy ideas in my head, being a screenwriter it gets to you sometimes. So here I am writing out all the really crappy stuff that comes to me, praying that maybe, jsut maybe something good may come of it...here's to hoping