Dr. Horrible

So, I watched "Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog," the other day.

For those unfamiliar with it, it's a three-part online fantasy/musical/comedy (!) from Joss Whedon, the criminally brilliant mind behind the "Buffy," "Angel" and "Firefly"/"Serenity" universes. It boasts a bravura turn from Neil Patrick Harris (DOOGIE!!!! Man, that guy's got talent to spare) as an aspiring--but misunderstood--super villain. Nathan Fillian is superhero Captain Hammer, Horrible's arch nemesis. The absolutely lovely (and completely crush-worthy) Felicia Day is Penny, the object of both mens' desire.

So, yeah. long story short, the shy, awkward Dr. Horrible wants to rule the world, defeat the arrogant, air-headed "corporate tool" that is Captain Hammer and win Pennie's heart. And without getting into details about the events that unfold, Horrible gets what he wants. But in tragic Joss Whedon fashion, he loses everything, too. In the end, none of it really matters to him.

These days, I sympathize with Dr. Horrible. It's like, lately, I'm finally on the upward swing. I'm writing for a pretty big paper in Omaha, I'm going to be doing my first celebrity interview with Tracy Morgan, I'm getting my stuff out there and I'm writing a script that a lot of people seem to be digging. I'm even talking to a couple of gals that seem genuinely interested in me. I should be happy! These are high times for me!! Finally!!

I'm not going to lay down any bullshit in this one. Most of y'all who read this know what my script is about, what it means to me, why I'm so fucking passionate about it. A good friend of mine, Joel, the other day, asked me if I was okay, emotionally, with writing what I was writing. I understood what he was asking and I appreciated him asking it, but truth of the matter was, yeah...I was fine. Peachy keno. Perf!

Until Saturday night, early Sunday morning. That was rough.

I wrote a scene involving the lead character, Brody, calling up his soul mate Mia, one year later, after he'd told her to take a hike. He tells her that he'd tied up whatever loose ends that had needed to be tied and that he was wanting to try things again if she was willing to do so. But it's too late. She's married. There's a teary, gut-wrenching goodbye and it ends with her by herself crying.

Fade to black.

Now, she and I both know that that, in real life, that phone call never happened. The conversation took place online, home of inexpression and textual misunderstandings. And to be honest, I really don't know if there were any tears on her end. What I do know, however, is that, looking back, I'm glad it didn't happen on the phone, because I was a mess just writing the fucker. I can only imagine what I would have been like in Real Life. I would have had to hang up on her.

That fucking scene truly took the piss out of me.

Not just the writing of it, but just...what it meant. For me, it wasn't just a scene that I was writing. Creative liberties or not, it was a moment in my life that I was reliving, putting it down on paper. A moment that, I think, truly shaped my mentality on Love and Romance; how, well, timing truly is everything.

In other words, that scene opened a Pandora's Box of old wounds, demons and emotions. And I so should have seen this coming, too.

I'm finally getting where I want to be, I have all this good shit happening, and yeah, it's nice to be writing my goddamn heart out again. I'm working my ass off on this script, working toward a great finished product!! But what then? What the fuck do I have to show for it?! Yeah, it will be splendid to have gotten everything out of my system!! Sure, it would be amazing to (cross your fingers) see it up on the screen, but what then? A round of applause? A million "atta boys!" and/or pats on the back? Money?!

Great! Super!! Fan-fucking-tastic!!

But see, the truth is...

I still miss you.