CRASH.

Blogger hates me.

I've been trying to write an entry all day, only for AOL to cut me off. Or for blogger to say my server is down. WTF.

Well see how far I get before it decides to cut me off again.

Anyway

"It's the sense of touch. In any real city, you walk, you know? You brush past people, people bump into you. In L.A., nobody touches you. We're always behind this metal and glass. I think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other, just so we can feel something."

Lately I've been thinking about connections. Crash was an interesting movie. My mom dragged me and my brother along to see this truly depressing movie. Not saying it wasn't good. But just really sad and you leave thinking about a lot.

I took from it the idea of connections.

In a time of our lives where small gratifications eliminate the connections, you can feel isolated, you feel needy, and alone.

We spend some much time connecting to generalized concepts of skinny and big,black or white, male or female, punk or emo, that we forget how connected we really are to people. That people have this same basic need, that we are all searching for this same completeness that it separates us. I guess I can compare it to Great Expectations, which I am really starting to love. My teacher describe pip as being a hypocrite. Pip hates Pumblechook so much, because inadvertently he is an imposter just like his uncle.

I think that's how people generally work. The try so hard to be different, that they neglect the importance of seeing how connected we really are. And these connections should drive us not tear us apart.

If that was the motivation for Crash than Hurray. But if not, I draw from it my own unnerving connection.

I'm not going to go all CNN on you, but imagine everyone has by now seen the horrific news about the girl in NYC who was killed. For reason today sitting in class I couldn't help but feel connected in away to the story.

The whole time I was home(seeing that Westchester is like NYC little sister), it was what was on the news, everynight before I went to bed. On Saturday it was "who could have done this" and by the time I left it was " a bouncer is being questioned". It was surreal. The news playing in the background of life that just goes on around it.

Everyday on the news it was a new break in her death, while home everyday was it was a resurgence of my life.

I would visit old neighborhood friends whose first words out of their mouth was "never go out alone, stay with friends, go home with them" and though I nodded and reassured them that I do not go out alone at night, it wasn't them I was reassuring. It was like the whole city was reassuring itself.

Walking down the street, passing conversations, it is what you heard. Theories be sprung about, blame being set, questions being asked.

And I realized in that moment how we were all connected, because we all could have been her.Thats why we needed the reassurance.We could have all be in that situation.A situation 4 am contemplation. A moment in life that we were just off our guard. When the forces came all crashing together, reminding us in an instant how venerable we all our.

Mainly this story has been bogging my mind, because I've been thinking about writing lately. While home my cousin talked about how he was interested in writing screenplay. He asked for my help. Is there is a fear of finishing things? Cause clearly I have it. I feel like I have decent enough writer, with decent enough concepts to maybe pull out a decent screenplay(maybe I should find another word for decent.)

I guess what I stagnates me in completing a screenplay is that I don't do well with trying to pull from what I don't know. In the case of me trying to get ideas from the news. I usually(as you can see) am guided by my emotions, and feelings, and that how I relate it to the world. Writing is a very Stripped( as in Christina Aguilera) process. I try not to hold back from my immediate feeling.

It is my soul. In like everything I write. And hope that I at least get that across in my writing. So when it comes to screenplay it's like I write what I know. I right about my complicated relationships with people, I write about vunerability, finding strength, about finding the balance.

Writing is like a voice, and I'm still a little hesitant to be heard. But I have stories to tell, stories I feel should be seen. Have to find the courage first.

anyway.

I had two test today. Psych and Genetics. Kay called me to tell me she has moved on campus and that I can come by her apartment. I declined saying that I had to study. 20 has given me a new fond sense of confidence, its amazing. So I go to the library, and I totally think I may have ADD. I mean I can't concentrate for beans. I'm fumbling my papers, drumming a pencil, humming, wondering about what kind of books are on the shelves. Should I throw my candy wrapper in the garbage.Whats that strange noise? Maybe i should investigate?

50 minutes later I realize I have spent more time preparing to study rather than study.

The test was covering dreams and stuff like that. Hopefully common sense pulled me through that test. South African boy flipped out when he found out Jon was on medicine for ADD. Even if i don't have ADD, i do have attention problems hope S.African boy doens't notice. I just get bored easily. Kay has offered again to take me to Movie Club next Monday (haven't talked about Art Boy in a long time. He is still hot). Which means I won't be going to South African boys club. In Westchester I realized how awkward I am around boys. The realization came when I may have ran from a boy who passed me in the hall and was being polite and asked my name. My mother had a field day the next hour or two going over my duck and run move. More on that tomorrow I have Spanish to study for.