The old lady and her scripts.

I read movie scripts.

Yes I do. Scripts, also known to some as screenplays or even transcripts though they're not really the same.

Why? Movies are a wonderful invention. Don't get me wrong; I love all of them film makers and their constant look-at-what-i-made-mommy creations.

But scripts help satisfy my craving for literature as well, with ample visuals thrown in, some rather graphic, thanks to my overactive imagination. I stumbled into the world of scripts four years ago, and Ive been hooked on ever since. I've come across some extremely well written pieces. More often than not, movies fail to live up to the visual imagery that theirs scripts build up. There have been instances where I do not watch a well written movie for fear of being disappointed after the marvel that was its script.

More often than not people forget to credit the scriptwriters, when appreciating a well made movie. One needs to remember that it is the script that provides a base for the movie to build up on... a launch pad of sorts.. the neglected cornerstone even.

Once you begin to look at the scripts that way, then the WGA (Writers Guild of America)'s boycott of the Golden Globes this January begins to look a lot less unreasonable.

I've tried to persuade my friends to read scripts, tried to lure them over to the dark side,with promises of never missing out on a great movie
line ever again. I want others to experience the imagery that seems to jump right out of the page and throw itself at them, the words that
explode into a train of visuals within moments of being read.
The following is an excerpt from the script of Minority Report(2002). Taken from: www.dailyscript.com, the place i go to for all my script needs.

               DARKNESS

               And then, slowly emerging from the mists of darkness, a pale,

               beautifully proportioned FACE.

               The oval face is female, a woman of indeterminate age, her

               features as fragile as porcelain.  Her eyes are closed in

               sleep, or in death ... or in something in between.

               Now TWO MORE FACES emerge out of the darkness.  They are

               male, and they float into position on either side of the

               female.  They are just as ethereally beautiful, just as pale,

               and like the female their eyes are closed.

              The ghostly lips of the female begin to twitch.  Her features,

               which have been expressionless, suddenly contort, mask-like,

               into the face of a woman in fear. Her eyes open.

I rest my case.                                                                                      

who's up for a full dose of hypocrisy?

What's perfection anyways..? I don't think anybody has a definite answer to that one.. Though it differs from person to person, in the end it is nothing but an an illusion, yet we work so hard 2 get to that place. A place, that we've convinced ourselves to believe, exists. It gives us direction in life, something to chase after, something to look forward to; it gives meaning to those long and endless days of hard work. The monotony, the sweat.. all of it.

Then there are moments when we wake up and reality hits us... the illusion disappears.. as we're left direction less, the compass stops working, the ship goes wherever the current takes it..

I try to be perfect
but nothing was worth it,
I don't believe it makes me real.
I thought it'd be easy
but no one believes me
I meant all the things i said.

If you believe it's in my soul
I'd say all the words that I know.
Just to see if it would show,
that I'm trying to let you know
that I'm better off on my own.

This place is so empty
my thoughts are so tempting.
I don't know how it got so bad.
sometimes it's so crazy
that nothing can save me
but it's the only thing that I have.

- Sum 41 (Pieces)

We give up so much to try and achieve perfection. So much that we overlook the little joys in life. We isolate ourselves, pushing people away afraid that they may become slow us down. Perfection.. success... all at what cost?
Slow down! Take a minute! Stroll through life rather than run past it. Stop and smell the roses. Take it in, life in all its fullness. The futile chase after perfection can wait...

Note to self: read your own posts once in a while..