i write. and write. and write.

Standing there for a moment, taking in the scenery like a city skyline, I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by celebrity. To be completely honest with you, most times I feel like I know a little more than the girls that sit in my chair. I can’t help but think that these models and actresses don’t know what its like to lay bricks to build houses, they simply live in the brick houses, as if its almost assumed that mansions were made for them. I sound bitter when I say that I have no control over anything in my life. The coffee stains, the paper cuts, my dog pooping in the house, my parents divorce, my love life, or lack there of, all these things have control over me. But this, this woman, this chair, these brushes, this paint (make-up), this is what I have control over. When I can’t make my life beautiful, I make faces beautiful. I can’t do much, but maybe I feel like if I can make a face pretty I can make a heart pretty. But who? Them or me?
Something was different about Gabrielle though. If she is the skyline I couldn’t help but see her light that was out. I guess that’s what I do. It wasn’t so much her look that was sad as much as her fidgetting hands, and quick glances behind her like she was hoping for a surprise that hasn’t come yet. At first I didn’t know what to do. Normally I am all business, no talk. I change you. So I stood there for a minute. Usually at this point I am assessing bone structure, where I’ll highlight, where I’ll contour. This time I was assessing I was assessing heart structure. And something seemed broken. So I started. I hid the tears with concealer, I used pinks to soften the figurative bruises, I used pearly whites to light her up from within. You know when you’re a kid and you ride in the backseat and you look in all the windows of the homes, even as a child you see the cozy ones, the cold ones, the ones who aren’t home. She might be a celebrity among us make up artists, but everyone got caught up in competing with who could make her lips pout the most, who could coat on so much mascara she batted her eyes just to keep them open, and who could get her hair to fall into her eyes at just the right bounce in her step to make men and women dab themselves with their hanky. When I was done, Gabrielle looked like someone was home. It was then, when I stepped back to look, that Gabrielle invited me in.

left handed guitar.

I cry almost everytime I see your picture.

screen play.

tonight i'm starting a screen play. maybe a book/screen play. sammie approached me with the idea. she makes me feel like i can do it, and that she is counting on me to write it. and since i can keep everyone's secrets but my own, i had to post that i am working on this. this is a secret exploration for me. just what will i come up with? tonight it is me, a god father, gabrielle hudson, jill, and.....reid. because i don't know anyone named reid. its going to be nice to meet them. and make them.
time to play with a screenplay. :)