myfruitcups

In fight club, the narrator says ” After fighting, everything else in your life got the volume turned down. “

But when you’re in Drama, everything in your life gets the volume turned up.

Maybe it’s only me, because I write scripts, everything that happens to me, every event or incident seems script-worthy. Everything is an idea, an inspiration.

And when that happens, It really does feel as If I’m in a movie.

Been having writers’ block lately, for my scripts and even my blog. I was only able to write poems. But after going out and observing myself, the situations i end up in, the circumstances i create for myself, and the consequences, I realise it’s not that hard. It’s not that hard to come up with a good script.

I just need to be aware. I need to look out for the things that really matter. The awkward look on a person’s face when he gets ignored unintentionally, the split second teary eyed expression. Anything out of the blue, overlooked in everyday life.

We’re all programmed to act a certain way. And if i may say so, especially in Singapore. We act and do the things we do as if we’re following a script. We build up an alter ego to protect the true, vulnerable self we keep hidden and deep without ourselves.

But every once in a while, something happens, maybe in a quart-second, but if you notice it, you get to catch a glimpse of who someone really is. The insecure being hidden beneath the tough, confident exterior.

Yet the funny thing about this is, you don’t catch these moments by looking out for them. You catch them only when you’re not aware. When they don’t matter.

But in this world, in this game, in this play, everything matters. Imagine this, you’re in a bus to somewhere, and you’re in a daze. Mp3 plugged in, and you’re looking out the window. Nothing else matters, nothing is bothering you.

And you see a child, five, maybe six years old, throwing stones at the grass patch. Just picture it in your head. How you’d interpret that, what thoughts would run through your head.

Now imagine you’re walking briskly, you’re in a hurry somewhere, you’re perspiring, anxious and out of breath, and you chance upon the exact same thing. A child throwing rocks on a grass patch.

What would you think? How is it different?

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Its’ like blogging. When I’m not blogging for the sake of updating, I would actually then have something to write about.

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Cigarettes. What comes into mind? Cancer.

Do people actually take the time out of their busy everyday routines to look at the cigarette butts on the ground. ( Oh and i have to attend a court hearing this month for throwing one on the ground but anyway.. )

Every single insignificant cigarette butt on the ground, or in the ash tray , tells a different story.

3 sticks would speak of a man who’d just lost his job. Another would tell you the story of a wife filing for divorce. And another would tell you of enjoying the company of friends with beer and cigarettes.

Do you ever wonder?

Breathtaking, these thoughts.

People usually use breathtaking to describe people, girls usually.

” But whether it’s a girl who takes your breath away or four packs a day, what does it matter? You’re dead anyway. “