My goal of writing a little bit here every day seems to have not worked out. C'est la vie.
It seems hard to think of new things to write about. It's not though. I can think of at least five things that would be worth writing about.
1) The strangely Zen state of mind I go into while riding the crowded L-Taraval train back home.
2) That scientists think they have discovered how to make bionic limbs that will be several times stronger that regular ones.
3) The simple pleasures of going for a walk even when your feet are killing you.
4) The possibility of theater undergoing a dramatic 21st century reimagining.
5) The joys of being a teacher's aide for a screenwriting class full of 18-year-olds who like nothing more than Sci-Fi and action.
There, five whole things I could talk about for hours and yet I've opened my Blogger account several times, written half an entry and deleted it.
It's not like I'm terribly busy either. I want to do it.
I wish I could say I've spent my time meditating on a whole new film grammar in which to express myself. Something that takes the symbolism of David Lynch and combines it with the humanistic touch of Pedro Almodovar to create a cinema that rewards repeat viewings with stories that are so multifaceted that you discover new things everytime you see it.
Mostly I've been hiding in my room, making blueprints for the unstoppable robot army I hope to unleash upon the world someday.