And we keep moving

Michael:  You busy?

Ryan (Me):  I'm just on my laptop.  I got porn on one window and Kelly Clarkson on another window.

Michael:  Are you, like, mixing and matching faces.

Ryan:  Nah, just giving the porn a soundtrack ... but also clicking from one to the other to pretend it's a music video.

I gotta go to the Poo Bah Record Shop in Pasadena to pick up an EDC ticket for Michael.  I'm gonna have to do it tomorrow (I got sidetracked by Capoeira today), right before guitar practice so I can multi-task: 1) drop it off to him afterward and 2) since he lives near the Burbank mall, I can stop by the Hot Topic store there to check out this white girl employee who I've thought about a bunch of times before when all alone busting a #3.  It's always good to renew the database.

Michael:  Do you have a car?  'Cause I'm on E right now.

Ryan:  You're on E?

Michael:  No!  I mean ... I'm not rollin!'  I meant my car's on Empty.

Capoeira training was at the Sylmar Park.  Andres' dog ran a lap around the park with us.  I'm not used to playing in the dirt.  It was one of my crappy days.  Apparently Steph has a crush on Jacob Black in the upcoming New Moon (Twilight sequel).  I got to plug my good news that my future baby's mama, Kelly Clarkson, will contribute to its soundtrack.

I'm a huge Twilight-- I'm a nerd Twilight fan!

Kelly Clarkson

I'll be honest, I couldn't call myself a true fan because of the final book hyping up a final battle that never took place and a cheep "happily ever after."  But if my future baby's mama is a nerd Twilight fan, I stand behind her.

Matt, the Leisure Suit Advocate, should be in Japan right now.  I wonder if he'll be able to get establishing shots, as well as some Japanese dude saying "This is John Conner," another saying "Come with me if you want to live," and a buff guy with "I'll be back" for our Terminator: the Sarah Connor Fanfics.

At our last Capoeira class at the Boys and Girls Club, when the staff required me to sign in, since I don't like giving out my real name, I signed in as Derek Reese.  Speaking of which, here's what some writer named Ashley had to say about killing off half the T:SCC cast in it's final episodes:

"So, Derek Reese is dead. And Charley Dixon is dead, too. Dead, because we killed them. We sat down, and we wrote it, and we killed them.

Okay. So here’s the deal. It’s not like we enjoy doing that. Trust me, I know what you guys think. I’m a fan – I know how we think. I know what I invest in, I know how I invest in those things. It’s not rational. It doesn’t make sense. We bond emotionally with characters because they speak to something in us. So when they die … It hurts. 

This is not an apology. This is me confessing on our behalf. Not to ask forgiveness, not because we crave absolution. Because we want you to know that sitting in the writer or producer’s chair doesn’t deaden you to the horror or pain that unfolds in your characters lives, just because you chose that they would suffer it.

You love these people. I loved them, too. I loved Riley. I loved Jesse (jury is out I know – but go with it). I loved Charley. And I loved Derek. They were heroes. Flawed heroes. Tragic heroes. But heroes, every one. Which is a pretty romantic way of saying they were screwed from “go”. Because it’s the destiny of the hero to die.

I read something once that stuck with me as a writer, though the source is lost to memory: you haven’t told a character’s story unless you’ve told the story of his death. I’ve meditated on this for years. Really. It’s not as simple as it sounds. It’s not about telling all the beats of the story, from cradle to grave. It’s about how we understand a character’s life through an understanding of his or her death.

Riley Dawson died a fighter, struggling to survive – in the end, an animal. The kind of animal that could survive Judgment Day. If Jesse is dead, she died alone … in her own mind systematically betrayed and disappointed by everyone she believed in and risked all to protect. Defiant. Charley Dixon sacrificed himself not for John Connor, future leader of mankind – he did it for John, the boy he called “son” in his heart. Derek Reese died like a soldier. Doing the job. Exactly the way he expected he would. No blaze of glory. No eulogy. Only the mission. His number came up, as everyone’s eventually must in the cold mathematics of war. 

If that’s small comfort to you, you’re not alone. It’s not supposed to be comforting. It’s supposed to be a kick in the gut. It’s supposed to hurt like hell. On some level, The Terminator franchise is about the value of human life. Death is the scale on which it is measured. Pain means it matters.

And we keep moving."

I'm watching a historic, commercial-free WWE RAW right now with Donald Trump.  Guro, that deadbeat FMA instructor, FINALLY texted me back to schedule training for Thursday.  And I'm off to the gym to get sexy for this weekend's Electric Daisy Carnival.