It can get lonely straddling a sliver of existence between the real world and the GWA universe. I try to keep them separate but I sometimes wish I could share my writings with real life people I know, and I wish I could make my presence here more real but I can’t.

So I skip markers like my cake day or celebrating milestones or joining little cliques, until the only sign that I was ever a part of this community is when a script is filled or someone is moved enough from my writing to leave a comment.

So strange this virtual reality, something I’m so passionate about that consumes a large part of my day to day thoughts, and yet unable to create lasting bonds with anyone over it.

I get a sense that there’s a few lonely people here and I sometimes wish I could put a rainbow in their lives but the only way I know how is through words so I do hope some of my scripts or comments I leave behind can make them smile.

I had tequila shots the other day and if you waterboarded me with kerosene it would’ve been the same experience. Not that I’ve ever tasted kerosene but I imagine it might have the same origin in some mad scientist’s lab. I don’t know why girls like it so much but as long as it keeps the party going. But I’ll stick to my scotch, thanks. No, please, I can’t do another one. I can’t! Argh, okay, okay.

I was born shy. I mean, if there was a factory setting, then that is my default mode. Oh if I could tell you the stories from my childhood. But it got better in my teens. Over time I’ve somehow managed to mold my personality to be something more assertive and mildly dominating. So maybe nurture can win out over nature in this case. But I think deep down, you can’t really change what is fundamental to your DNA. In my case, I could go from a confident, even cocky professional among peers to a tongue-tied blushing neanderthal with the right girl, when my vocabulary would be reduced to just four words “you, me make boom?”.

I only had one real fight in my entire life and by fight I mean as far from fisticuffs as the definition allowed. We were almost thirteen, the other boy and me. It was a silly misunderstanding and the only reason it came to blows was because our “friends” kept egging us on, those lil shits. It was over in less than a minute and how I know was because one of the spectators blurted out “what? is that it?”, before turning away in disgust. Tough crowd. Yeah, it was nothing remotely like the movies, not even karate kid. We sort of kicked each other’s shins and swung our arms wildly. If you had wandered by and saw us from afar, we looked like two boys swatting away a swarm of bees. We’re still friends today, though in different cities and we’d laugh if ever we reminisced about that.

I love, I can’t underline it enough, I love when a girl talks dirty to me. But only during foreplay or teasing over text. Not during sex itself. Such a weirdly specific proclivity. I prefer hearing her moaning or moaning my name, with a sparse sprinkling of “you’re amazing” thrown in but totally not mandatory, kinda like a sprig of parsley on your steak - it’s nice but you won’t miss it if the cook forgot to put it there. The parsley, not the steak. Do NOT forget the steak.

Kinda like my brain process when I’m writing. I simply cannot listen to podcasts or have anyone talking to me when I’m trying to put words on paper. Both uses the same bus so only one source of data makes it through. What I do like however is white noise, like traffic, chatter, piped in music (but not babies crying, oh hell no). I think other writers might be the same which leads to a curious observation - walking into a random cafe I can tell at a glance who’s a writer and who’s everyone else. Non writers be wearing big ass headphones, but writers tend to not have anything over their ears, sitting by themselves with just a mug of hot coffee and their computer. Uncluttered, undistracted, so lost in their own world, busy tap tap tapping away at their masterpiece, until someone interrupts. “Huh? Is this seat taken? Uh… no.”. He mumbled to the pretty stranger. Oooh, script idea.

It’s almost the new year and I have a random memory of a time not too long ago. I was at a party when I got a buzz on my phone. It was a birthday reminder for a girl I broke up with almost a year before. Well, that knocked the wind outta my sails I can tell you. I had completely forgotten about her in the moment but apparently not my subconscious. Nor my blasted phone. And for a wistful second I stood there right in the midst of a clamorous crowd, my heart broken for someone with whom I made plans and shared dreams with, briefly transported back to a time when I knew real happiness. And then my friend rudely assaulted my self-pity handing me a tequila shot. “Drinkkkk!” she shrieked to my face.

So what’s in store for 2022? As always, be kind, be thankful, keep the flame alight, are my notes to self. I wanna keep writing as long as possible but I’m sorry if I were to disappear without warning for long stretches. I did feel a tinge of sadness looking back when my cake day came and went without anyone noticing, but then, neither did I.

If you read this far, have a wonderful new year, you beautiful soul.