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Thursday, May 12, 2011

Does anyone even keep a journal nowadays? If they do, I'll bet it's a computerized one and not a pen and ink one like this. But, considering the breaches in security that I've been dealing with over the past week or so, I'm going old-school in the interests of keeping secrets. Maybe after I'm dead, 60+ years from now please God, someone will find this and decide that the memoir of Rhy'Din's first movie mogul are worth publishing and they'll make a killing off the profits. Am I getting ahead of myself? Probably. I think the studios have to do well in order for me to call myself a mogul.

Oh, God. The studios. Where to even begin there? See, I've had this lifelong dream of being really respected in Hollywood, like Tom Hanks or Ingrid Bergman. I want to be taken seriously, not just for my acting, but my writing, my directing ? everything. I have an Oscar and a Golden Globe for Best Actress, so that covers my acting. I have a Golden Globe for my writing ? sure would like to add an Oscar for that ? so obviously my writing has been taken seriously. But I'm still lacking recognition for my directing and leadership. But I'm not sure you can actually get an Oscar or a Golden Globe for being Best Studio Head.

$4.5 million dollars ? or roughly 1.8 million Rhy'Din gold ? has been entrusted to me to make something with. So far, I've managed to kick up a helluva lot of scandal and publicity, which unfortunately, can't be given back to my investors...except as an alternative to a sharp stick in the eye. The first film hasn't even begun shooting yet and already the script's been leaked and the casting ? which hasn't even been finalized, for Christ's sake! ? has been called into question. What if it flops? What if it's horrible? What if they come to me next year and demand their money? What if I don't have it? Hell, that's a lot of what ifs.

Maybe I should concentrate on happier, more pleasant things, like Ori. Yes, Ori is definitely a happier and more pleasant subject. I've never met anyone like him. He's so genuine. Real. He makes my head spin and my knees go weak every single time I see him. When it's unexpectedly in the halls at the office, I literally feel out of breath. I know that we agreed to keep things strictly professional when we're there, but anyone looking at my face when I see him has got to know how I feel about him. How much I'm into this guy.

Okay, enough of that. I'm going to make myself sick with all the sappiness.

Rhys. Now there's a confusing situation. He had a bit of the bad boy feel to him when we first met. Sorta like James Dean in Rebel Without A Cause. Now I think it's more like Rebel Without A Clue. No, that's mean, Lelah. He's just...confused. Conflicted. Obviously still in love and completely hung up on his ex. He doesn't know what he wants, not really. Or maybe it's more a case of knowing what he wants but being unable to have it because it's happily married to a freakin' hot Chinese guy.

Gideon? Oh, God. I can't even write his name without wanting to curl up and die of embarrassment. I can't believe I thought he was a demon or possessed or whatever. But everything Rhys said about demons fit him. He's scary, he's too cool, he's too suave, he's just...too. Now there's a real bad boy if I'm anyone to judge. I should keep my distance from him, and stop thinking up reasons to happen by the Inn to see if he's lurking there. I can't, though. He's like smack. Bad for me but impossible to resist.

Gotta run. Ori's here to show me his concepts for the opening scene. I wonder if I'll be able to sneak in a kiss or two before the meeting's over?

Friday, May 20


Time and perspective is what this situation needed. Time to think through everything with a clear head.

I guess that I need to establish some concrete things first before I can think about the unknown aspects of the entire disaster. One, I went willingly with him to dinner. Two, I willingly kissed him, let him undress me, let him... Well. There was no point when I said no to him, no point where I feel like he took advantage of me and made me do something I didn't want. I was a willing participant in all of it.

But I did not willingly let him slip me whatever he slipped me. And I cannot figure out when ? or how ? he did it. A good amount of time passed between the last time I ate or drank anything and the time I felt...high. Heroin doesn't take that long to kick in. Nothing I know of takes that long to kick in.

Was it him somehow? Something on his lips? No, that doesn't even make sense, does it? God, I'm obviously still not thinking clearly. I have no idea what happened. I have no idea what he did to me or how. I suppose the only way I'll know for certain is to ask him, but the very thought of facing him again is terrifying.

Besides, does he really need to drug women to get them into bed with him? Granted, I know very, very little about the man, but from every conversation I've had and from the myriad women casting longing looks at him, I'm pretty sure he's the kind of guy who says "Jump" and women worldwide say, "How high, lover?"

All of this seems like pointless speculation. It's very likely I'll never know what truly happened. At the end of the day, what I'm left with is this: I need more. One more taste. And it's killing me to stay away.

Thursday, May 26


One week down, one to go. Fourteen days have never passed so slowly in the entire history of timekeeping. Ever.

Am I ready for this? Hell no, I'm not ready for this. I never wanted this, never dreamed about having this. Sure, maybe I thought I'd be ready for it in another ten years or so, but now? Ugh. The very thought makes me nauseous.

I just keep telling myself that if we go through with it, it'll be fine. None of them will want for anything for as long as they live; hell, even after I'm gone they'll be taken care of. Money's not an issue - time is, patience is, the desire is.

I don't want this. I'm not ready for it. And God help me, if I survive the next seven days, I'll never do it again.