RAW

I started writing a small scene that I hope works into a larger script I've been working on. I was listening to music on MySpace today (a typical Saturday routine), and one particular song struck me. I added it to my list and listened to its hauntingly sad words over and over until the scene became crystal clear in my mind.

I emoted. I allowed myself to become the person I saw in that scene. And then I wrote. My process is not unusual, but it strikes me each time that I must appear remarkably unstable on a daily basis. I sob at the losses that only occur within my mind. I respond to silent questions and watch the lifts in my face in the bathroom mirror as I am presented with true happiness and ultimate humor. I suffer the manipulations of those who do not exist, and I relive malleable painful moments that are no longer a concern or beyond my own understanding.

I also hear a soundtrack to all of these fictitious moments of my life. Sometimes the music leads the images. As I work with this script/story, I may share pieces. Just not now. It feels heavy and dark and raw. Part of me thinks it is better that way.