Click to see in full glory… and enjoy. Anyway, you’re invited if you want to. My door is always oh-pen. Duh, see that bed? It’s e-e-empty! And that remark was just whor-ible. God how I love to play with words. (Obvious, isn’t it?)

Lovely, right? Almost everything’s from IKEA, by the way. My absolutely favorite items in this lil’ word of mine: my DVD collection, my cork board with many, many memorabilia, post cards, photos, scribbles, notes and much more that makes me who I am. My cupboard (without any knobs to open it, if you noticed… I’m a pro at opening it without them). My TV set, of course. Huh, just … well, I’m in love with it. If you could marry a TV, I’d marry it right now. (That’s if it wanted me, too.) And see my pillows? My myriad pillows? Looks comfy, right? Yeah, but I get rid of them every night. I just need one for my head and one to hug. You’re free to guess as to which two I’m using, and for what

And next up: Pimp my Dimi!

Drafts are… well, drafts. Sometimes they are not supposed to be published. But these drafts here that I’ve saved on Wordpress, they should be seen by the public, trust me. Enjoy the elaborate look behind the scenes of my life, basically, for here’s what I’ve never ever published:

From an entry I started writing on September 10th, 2008 and continued writing until I stopped on November, 30th, called I know what I did last summer:

Next up, an extract from a rather serious entry, titled Tomorrow’s a new day too, you know, written on the 4th of January, 2009:

Phew. New year, new luck? Yeah, right. The first four days of 2009 show me it’s still the same old, same old thing. And once again - hopefully for the very last time ever - I’m also complaining about the same old stuff. It’s January now, you know. I had been hopeful - or at least I was truly trying to be hopeful - and this being hopeful and waiting for something to happen in January, the prospect of something changing… that was what kept me going. Some might say this sounds ridiculous, and it does. But it’s nonetheless true. Right now, so many damn thoughts and feelings keep me from sleeping, eating, concentrating; quite frankly put: being myself. I’m torn between the wish that everything hadn’t happened, and that I would still be the same person without these experiences. Then I would have been spared all the hurtful repercussions. Then again I don’t regret anything that has happened last year… why, when the outcome proves to be so devastating? I would like to think it’s because I have the urge to grow wiser and to learn new things. But I know myself as a person, and I don’t like to admit it, but it’s because there’s still hope for me. And this lack of proper closure (like real closure, and some final answers) is killing me. And the thought that I can’t move on while they can (that this is everything on my mind while they rarely ever think about it… only if they ever think about it, that is)… yeah, wow, it’s… I’m stunned, I don’t know how to put it into words what I’m feeling.Okay, there’s nothing much left right now. I just needed to write this down. Once and for all, and for the very last time. I’m not going to ever write about this again - I promise. And I keep my promises. I need to deal with this. It’s not like I haven’t dealt with other heavy stuff before.

[And see, I did keep my promise. Never ever whined again.] And finally, an entry from the 5th of February (so you see, I tried several times to post something!), titled There’s always tomorrow:

And that’s about it. No more drafts from now on. Just entries.

Some sort of intellectual drought, apparently. Seriously, why is it I have these creative highs during which I basically can’t contain myself from writing dozens of entries every single day, and then again a complete drought hits me and bam, it’s over. It’s over until five long months later, I’m suddenly back again. Back in full glory, that is. I don’t have the answer to that question (quite tricky, huh?), I can just say that you should be happy my blog-abstinence is officially over. I myself can’t tell what the incentive was this time ’round for me to start rambling on here again, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m here, right now. And what might interest you is what I’ve been up to the past five months. I’ll try to sum up what happened in these months in brief paragraphs that only contain the real essence of what was important in each month. (But y’all know how bad I am at keeping it short.)

Let’s start with cold and depressing January. (Emphasis on depressing!) What a blast I had back then. No, wait, actually I didn’t. January was horrible. January was when I sank to a new level of patheticness. When I did something that I still regret so much that it almost hurts thinking about it. Want to know what? Well, that’s my dirty little secret. (Though it’s not dirty, only sad. Utterly sad.) Let’s only say that I lost all my dignity for something that wasn’t worth it. And that, my dear friends, led to an incredibly hurtful drop in my self-esteem. The snowy and rainy weather didn’t help either. School was going well, as always. Other than that, I can’t remember anything special happening in January. Except me being in that horrible place that I never in my life want to return to.

February wasn’t all that spectacular either. In what were my final ‘Semesterferien’ (no fitting translation here, sorry guys!) I went to Vienna to spice up my oh so exciting life. Long story short: I didn’t manage, even though I really tried hard to change something. I went swimming in my aunt’s pool, I read a book about prime numbers and got hooked with Mathematics (who knew that would happen?), I hit a creative high and wrote about 15 of the best pages of fiction that I’ve ever written (and who thought that would happen?). Other than that, February was bo-yawn-ring. Sadly so, but that’s the truth. Mission Spice Up Life needed to be postponed till at least March due to some difficulties. (Ah, not to forget: February was the month I had ‘Stellung’. Meaning I went to the military so they could tell me how fitting I was. Fitting to be the next super-soldier. Funny thing. Not such a fan of the military, though. But still it was fun, fun, fun! And they told me I’d make a great soldier! … Yeah, like that’d ever happen.)

March… March. Wait, there was something in March. Hmm, let me think… ah, my birthday! Yeah, right, finally I turned 18. What a wonderful thing. Other than feeling some sense of freedom, that really didn’t mean anything to me. I almost found myself being alienated by the thought of feeling ‘adult’ just because I now happened to be 18 and it said so on my ID. I was basically still the same person. Now these five past months here, that’s a whole other story. These five months, no matter with how much sarcasm I comment on them here, changed me as a person. I matured, I really did. But again, that didn’t have anything to do with that insignificant number that I consider my age. March… was still somehow exciting. I celebrated my birthday together with Jassi - sweet, innocent Jassi - in a cool location that a friend of my stepfather’s owns. I got some money when I turned 18; money that had been on a bank account since I was 12 (that was when I was involved in an ugly, almost fatal car accident)… money that I was given by my insurance company back then. A few days later I could start redecorating my room. One wall is now elegantly painted in a dark blue (the other walls are beige); I bought some furniture and an orgasmic LCD TV (excuse my language, but if you saw it you’d understand). Oh, and a Blu Ray player. I didn’t know I would even notice the difference, but ever since, I fell in love with HD. March also marked an all new high concerning the success I had in school. 100 out of 100 points in English, 48 out of 48 points in Mathematics. Not that it matters, but it was still good to know I at least didn’t have to worry about my grades when the year was to come to an end. (Concerning school it came to an end, that’s what I mean.)

… which it basically did in April. April was a month that saw us soon-to-be ‘Maturanten’ growing more and more anxious towards the… well, the ‘Matura’. We counted the days. We studied like crazy people. We tried to console each other. We tried to save our remaining braincells (damage control, anyone?). We had nightmares. It was intense. In fact, this pre-Matura time took the word ‘intensity’ to a whole new level. (In retrospective, that’s funny. Very funny, that is.) April was also the month that finally gave me closure in that ugly matter that had cost me all my dignity back in January (see above). April was mostly school-centered, and quite abundantly so. Quite logical, given the fact that it was one of the final months of school.

May; that’s where we are right now. May takes everything you read in the preceding paragraphs to a yet another whole new level. The written Matura, for example; it’s over now, it’s done. Eight years it had been approaching inexorably, and suddenly, and quite mercilessly, it was only one night before it all was to finally start. It was an unrealistic experience. Starting with German (we had to write an argumentative essay based on a very, very difficult - almost cryptic - impulse article!), continuing with Math (hallelujah, never been so scared in my entire life!), resuming with English (aw, love it, though the listening comprehension with the fancy, largely incomprehensible British accent was just plain mean!) and ending in a grand finale avec Français (which I admit I was very nervous about, given the fact that this marked the subject that I least expected to get a good grade in… I’m still curious as to how well I did in the end). Today, we write the 23rd of May. I’m returning to blogging here. (Or maybe not, still have to make my mind up about that. At least it looks like it.) And maybe, only maybe, something great has started. Maybe, my life is taking a turn. Maybe mission Spice Up Life finally worked. We’ll see. One thing these five past months taught me was not to expect too much, and not to über-analyze everything that comes my way in life, thereby ruining it. So, only time will tell. To the next five months!

Thanks for reading this, folks. These are my thoughts, btw, only my bare thoughts, and I get that they might seem very incoherent to some of you. (Most of you, I guess.) I’ll try to keep it more simple in the future. Though just like shortness, simplicity isn’t really one of my great strengths.

… right, that would be school. Phew, I just wanted to apologize for not writing in such a darn long time. I’ll be writing something soon. Maybe on the weekend. At least I’ve got a whole lot quite a few things to tell you all… look forward to fresh and optimistic entries! It’s 2009 now, my friends, and that means all the everlasting and ongoing whining is over. YAY!

Due to my long-lasting admiration for Michael Cunningham’s extraordinary book The Hours, which started several years ago when I discovered the stunning movie of the same title, I have decided to dig deeper and analyze this literary masterpiece, looking closely at its actual origins; Virginia Woolf’s powerful 1925 novel Mrs. Dalloway, and the genuine life story of the famous author itself. The Hours could not exist without these fundamental, underlying bases that made it not only possible to redefine and properly modernize Mrs. Dalloway, including all its initial themes, but also to draw upon an enormous collection of characters, events and symbols, to create what The Hours successfully depicts: a subtle, beautiful book with a rich background. These three components - Virginia Woolf’s life, her work (represented by her most important novel Mrs. Dalloway) and the modern adaption of both, The Hours - are tied closely together, and it is a truly interesting experience to explore all the parallels between them. This is also the reason I chose this as my special topic for the Matura, and on the following pages you will be able to discover the myriad connections I found these books had.

Note: This is the brief introduction to my special topic for English, along with its cover; I’ve already written about six pages, which means there are about nine pages left that I have to write. Okay, I better get back to work now. It’s really inspiring though; I’m researching, structuring, designing and most importantly of course writing this special topic while either having The Hours run in the background (the movie, of course) or listening to Philipp Glass’ majestic score. For all of you interested; the final file will be downloadable as a PDF file as soon as it’s finished.

So that was Christmas. How utterly delightful devastating it was this year. Devastating? Yup, it was awful and I didn’t really like it… at all. How could I have ever thought - even if only for the slightest moment - that all sorrows would be gone on Christmas eve? They weren’t. Ironically, new ones had come up during the day, and altogether these worries and problems piled up to ruin Christmas for everyone. But how…?

Waking up on the 24th, I was pretty hopeful. And I was happy at the time. I was able to finally put all the feelings that had tortured me for quite some time now aside, and I was… happy. I took a quick shower, put on my new favorite gray pants and my violet sweater. Via my loyal and beloved Creative Zen I was listening to beautiful Christmas songs as I was taking the tram into the city, where my mother and aunt waited for me. Well, surprise surprise, who’s calling shortly before I get on the tram? My father. And unexpectedly, he didn’t reproach me with not calling him in a month and a half. He was… nice. And he was asking me if and when I wanted to see him. I told him I wanted to see him that same day. And I was even happier. Way to go; the happier you are, the more can break. When I arrived at the coffee shop where my mother and aunt were at the time, my aunt was talking on the phone. So I asked my mother if it was okay would my father come to have dinner with us. And her reaction was more than unprecedented. She said no. And I would have understood her. I am a child of divorced parents, and I have always somehow been obligated to choose sides. And I have always chosen my mother’s side. Because I sincerely love her, and see that she’s the one who’s done everything for me and my brother. So I tried to accept her answer. But it was the reason she stated why my father couldn’t come that I seriously couldn’t take. She said that if my father came and had dinner with us, she would get in trouble with her boyfriend. (And I hope that even as an outsider you immediately sense that something can’t be quite right about that statement.)

I was very ticked off by what she’d said, I was even personally offended. I was seriously and directly questioning her boyfriend’s thoughts and his irrational jealousy, and she told me that she just hoped that I would one day find a partner who’s more tolerant. Ha ha. She said it wouldn’t be okay with her either if the mother of her boyfriend’s daughter came to their respective dinner. And I was like For God’s sake, who are you thinking of right now? I asked her if she’d seriously want to make such a hefty decision based on her boyfriend’s feelings, who wasn’t even present at the dinner. I told her that her children would be screwed because they were deprived of celebrating Christmas with both their parents, and because of what? Because she was worried about her boyfriend’s feelings. I told her that if he really had a problem with my father coming to dinner - obviously not seeing the point of having a nice family dinner - then I wouldn’t have any respect for him anymore. And I don’t. And I hate to say this right now, but I’ve lost some respect for my mother, too. It actually hurts to say or admit this, but it’s the truth. All I did was point out the idea of having a dinner together, since my mother and father speak again since November… and she trying to make a point, telling me her boyfriend wouldn’t understand that… wow, that thought is just so egoistic it almost makes me physically sick writing it. And something’s changed, something’s shifted. And seen that my mother has always been like a holy idol for me, my morals, my views and thoughts, I’m a little puzzled now. I stood up for what I thought and what I felt, and I still believe it was the right thing to do, even after resulting in an ugly fight on Christmas eve.

The funny thing is that my mother is so terribly stubborn and boneheaded; but since I know her probably better than anyone else, I know her look when she runs out of reasonings and sees that I’ve got a point with what I say. And that’s what happened on Christmas eve. Because damn it, I was right this time. And it makes me sad to think that it wasn’t possible to celebrate Christmas together - reunited as a family, for just one evening - and that instead, while we were having a dinner that was strained by some horrible tensions, my father was in his apartment; we were separated, when it would have been so easy and uncomplicated to just celebrate together. (Leaving my mother’s boyfriend’s feelings aside for a moment, of course. God I could seriouly puke right now.) And I think anyone who has a functioning brain will agree with me. I empathetically understand my mother’s motivations and intentions, but they are just so frustratingly egoistic. And had her boyfriend really had a problem with this, he would’ve been a truly corrupted soul. Alas, he wasn’t even given the chance to show his real face, and so my mother remains the villain this time. The first time, actually. And there’s absolutely no other way to put this. Yesterday, I was home alone, in the morning. It was Christmas day. And once again, I felt lonely. Usually I feel pathetic when I feel lonely. But I figured on Christmas day you really shouldn’t be alone, but rather with your family and the people you love. I was almost panicking because of how unbelievably empty my apartment felt, with only me and the Christmas tree with all its lights there. Well, I don’t like to think of it, let alone write it down, so here is the rest of the hard facts; my mother left at Christmas eve at about eleven to go to her boyfriend’s, and the next day I heard from her early in the morning only because I had texted her and asked her to please call me because I felt alone. I didn’t hear from her the whole day after that. And today… well, I don’t know where she is right now. And I don’t really care. In the morning she came home (from her boyfriend’s, of course) and was acting all hurt and fragile. She’s acting as if I were obligated to apologize to her for what I did. She said she felt misunderstood. Yeah, right. By herself, maybe. She knows what she did was wrong, and now she’s seeking for approval for what she did… mine. So that she doesn’t have to think about the fact that she practically ruined Christmas for everyone. Great. Well, as long as she’s happy with her boyfriend, she can do whatever she wants to. I told her millions of times that I will be practically gone in a year or two. Her boyfriend is probably here to stay. Well, she’s got it wrong, somehow; she’s trying to hold onto her boyfriend because she’s afraid of ending up totally alone in a year or two. By doing that, she’s alienating me. And that’s not okay. And I won’t stay silent in the future. Enough is enough. And this was supposed to be a happy Christmas. Instead, a family crisis has risen and shockingly, it’s between my mother and me, the rock and the foundation of this… well, family, if you can call it that.  

I’m going to take a bath now. Later I will crawl into bed and watch Golden girls again. (As always.) What am I supposed to do? The last few months I’ve tried every single thing that was in my power, and nothing has worked out. At some point it’s just hurtful and unbelievably frustrating, and my guts tell me I should probably stick to living my life the way it is laid out for me without trying to change anything anymore. Changes will come my way, eventually, if that’s what is supposed to happen. I’ve tried to take action, and I’ve failed. Now, with my mother, and earlier at many, many other things. And after such a succession of letdowns you just get all passive and pessimistic. And that’s something I seriously don’t want to be. But hey, it’s Christmas and it’s the second day in succession that I’m alone. That’s why I’m probably going to take a bath now and then I’m going to be consoled and delightfully entertained by Dorothy, Blanche, Rose and Sophia. And maybe tomorrow, the day will be brighter. I can only hope so.

… and much more. Is it really Christmas already? This year I didn’t really get to enjoy the time that comes before Christmas. Today when I set up our gorgeous Christmas tree (thank God my mother let me join her when she went to buy it - she would have bought a small and crippled one out of sympathy… for a tree, go figure!) it struck me like lightning; Christmas, oh lord, it’s here already. The last few days weren’t really successful in setting the right mood for Christmas, they were rather uneventful and dull; it hasn’t been snowing (even though I’d hoped and prayed for it), and it probably won’t snow until tomorrow (still hopin’ and prayin’ though). I’m supposed to be surrounded by the people I love and care for; well, I am, mostly. There’s just something missing, or someone. As I was walking through the streets yesterday, I thought to myself (something I obviously do way too often, but hey, with all this time on my hands and nothing to do, what am I supposed to do?); I should be truly happy and content. Everything’s working out properly and smoothly in my life right now. I love my family and have great relationships with most of my important family members (not all of them, one significant exception being my caring father who’s literally exploding because of all the affection and love he shows and gives), I have great friends (one friend counting probably to the top two [!] most important people in my life, and others being somewhat runners-up though not at all that close) and because I’m so (terribly) ambitious I’m doing well in school and I usually achieve what I want. It was a wonderful feeling walking through the streets knowing all that. But even with all that, something is missing and no matter how hard I try to overcome this fact it doesn’t quite work… I really need a relationship. I need to be in love, quite frankly. I think I’m truly and finally ready to take this step. So while I was having a blast thinking about my life (well it wasn’t all that spectacular, actually, but oh well), I thought it would be still more beautiful or just perfect if there was someone walking next to me… whom I can share everything with.

Yup, that’s what has been on my mind for a month or so. There’s a void in my life, and unfortunately my feelings are stronger than my rational thoughts. That’s why I’m depressed (mildly… like a puberty thing, I guess) quite often and probably fantasizing a greater deal than what would be good for me. I’m dreaming of what could be and sometimes completely dismiss what is. It’s pathetic (pathetic, pathetic, pathetic… there, I said it!), and I know that, but I’m going through this and I’m going through it mostly on my own. That’s why I’m writing about it here (which takes it to a whole new level of patheticness!), as a matter of fact. I know not many people will actually read this, but still, writing it down and publishing it makes it public… and true. I feel lonely; that’s it in a nutshell, basically. And that’s not a great feeling to have around Christmas time now, is it? But some of my closest family members are gathering tomorrow to celebrate Christmas, and I’m really looking forward to it. I did always love Christmas, and I still do, and I want to get the most out of it. Though I have to admit that I’ll still probably dream of the future and un-lonelier times when my thoughts should be somewhere else: right here and right now, that is.

Okay, I declare the therapy session for officially over (phew, do I hear a collective sigh from all the readers?). Aside from me doing so much thinking the past few days, also some other things happened; my cat - or actually my brother’s cat - well, the cat that I rescued this past summer in Greece and that my brother took with him to Austria, Gina (and no, it wasn’t me who picked that name!), is in heat… again. Last time I checked this sex-craziness of hers had gone away. But look who’s horny again already. God! Have you ever truly experienced a cat in heat? (You’re a happy person if you can answer with an honest no.) Last night I almost couldn’t sleep. I mean, I do feel sympathy for her, because she really wants some and apparently she won’t be getting any anytime soon (and the ironic thing is we currently have two tomcats here… but they’re both castrated!), but she doesn’t have to scream all that loud all night. And then when I’m up she’s always smittenly approaching me and trying to seduce me with her sex-looks. Well, as much as sexy kittens turn me on, there’s really nothing I can do for her. But it’s really crazy, it’s like she has a crush on me - she follows me everywhere I go and the moment she hears my voice she starts purring like a chain saw and vibrating so hard the floor is trembling. Well, that was one thing.

The other thing is a package I got from someone who apparently really felt generous. You know, when I stated in a previous entry of mine that if you felt generous, you could buy me something off my Amazon wishlist, that was just a saying… I’m not that greedy or needy (well, not materialistically, at least) that I need that many presents. (And that was just a saying, too. Of course I’m happy about all sorts of presents, especially since my mother’s experiencing some sort of ugly drought in both her wallet and bank account right now, which means fewer presents… actually only one present this year. But it’s not about presents anyway.) So the mailman handed me the package, and I didn’t open it. (Although it was tempting.) I asked my mother to wrap it up in beautiful Christmas gift wrap paper. She doesn’t know who it is from either. (We both have our guesses, respectively.) Practically Everyone who knows the address to my wishlist can purchase something for me from there. And now I’m really anxious to find out who it is from. (It has to be someone who understands my English rambling here, so that’s the first clue… the person speaks English. Well that really narrows it down now, doesn’t it? Haha.) I’m not really curious what is in it… I’d rather like to know who thought of me and wanted to send me a gift. Well I’ll just have to wait until tomorrow evening to find that out, though. (And I’m probably going to be disappointed anyway, because… well, it really is a nice gesture, whoever did it, but there’s only one person I really do hope this gift is from.)

Until then, I’m probably going to continue feeling (and acting, don’t forget acting!) downright pathetic while listening to festive Christmas songs (and the new Beyoncé album!), decorating the enormous Christmas tree (that task will take a few hours anyway), getting liquored up with eggnog (or sangria… or both!), laughing out loud and peeing myself to any of the Golden girls’ hilarious episodes, trying to distract my poor, sexually frustrated cat (or get her a potent tomcat off the streets, I don’t know which it will be yet), and finally working on my ultimately interesting special topic for English, The Hours vs. Mrs. Dalloway. (Yeah right, like I would do something productive or constructive in my current state.)

Have a nice day, y’all, and try not to take me too seriously. (For your own sake!)

Edit: Ah, look what I found. Something I wrote yesterday and never finished or published. It would be a waste if I didn’t publish it now. So, here it goes;

The last week of school before Christmas break has been horrible. Every afternoon I found myself writing myriad to do-lists in order not to forget any of the things I still had to take care of. I’m still proud of having been voted class representative last September, but last week I would have seriously been happy if someone else had had to do all the work that comes with this slightly prestigious job. Leaving Wednesday - the most eventful day of the last few weeks - aside, I think Thursday was a fun day. My class celebrated Christmas together, as every year. With decorations, music, candle light, singing carols etc. We exchanged presents, and this year I was almost happier being given my almost perfect presents than I was when I gave out my (utterly perfect) presents. (I usually find it more exciting to give presents than receiving some myself.) Most of my friends were really happy about the things I got for them (the others acted as if they were… and a Golden Raspberry is coming right their way!), and that proves that it’s always worth it to really think about what a person could want; I care about my friends, deeply, and the least I can do is think about their unique personalities and what each of them likes in order to buy a fitting present that will make them happy. It’s not about the price or size, it’s really only the thought that counts. And it wasn’t yesterday I found out about that. (And this is also not some cheesy thing I was taught by some morally correct children’s TV show, I found out about that all by myself!) Well, Friday was a fun day too. For the first time (and the last time, respectively) I participated in a school sports competition. (Okay, I’ll give you a moment. Take a deep breath, relax and read that again. Shocked? But it’s true, I really did something sportive! There are pictures to prove it!) Along with Lissi, Andi, Jojo, Julie and Maria (an all-female lineup), I played for our class’ volleyball team (so in the end it was not all-female). We were pretty darn good (I was constantly stunned because of how good I actually was… and I can’t point out often enough how bad I am usually at sports… honestly, I can’t put it into words, I am just God-awful!), but still, we only placed 4th. Who cares… as I said, we were pretty darn good.

(Actually I really only published that so you’d know I was participating in a sports competition. I still can’t believe it! Can you?)

Phew. The time has come. The creative juices are flowing again (and creative juices exclusively, for that matter!) and I think I’ll start penning the pilot of my new baby Savages soon. Today I thought a lot about its core characters - really just the core, because there will be many, many characters in this series - and their perennial dilemmas. These four close friends - Amy, Will, Zane and Zoe, in alphabetical order - have reached a time in their lives where something has to change. A crazy time. Things happen that they might have never wanted to experience. But they have to. Savages is not only a series about these four seemingly broken people, it’s a story about how fast things can change in life and that unprecedented and unexpected things happen all the time. Savage means wild, uncivilized. These people might not seem wild at first sight, but when they have to, they will become wild. When the situation forces them to, they will do things - I can not point that out often enough - they could’ve never imagined they would wind up doing… ever.

Amy - 18 years of age. She’s not walking on solid ground. In the past, she’d always known where she was standing. What she was thinking. What she believed in. It was always clear in front of her. Now she’s been hurt. Now her world has turned upside down. Unlike Zane, she stopped moving. Life is floating around her, she’s just not aware of it. Frustrated by the lack of development in her life, she seeks out to change everything. She wants to be the one in control, and she’s about to change something. Bigtime. Amy - there’s no solid ground she can build upon… anymore. She doesn’t know where she’s standing anymore, but willing to find out. She’s a savage.

Will - 17 years of age. He’s the guy everyone wants to be. Everyone envys him for what he is. For what he’s got. He’s got the perfect girlfriend. He’s doing well in school. His mother’s a genuine MILF. He’s the one ruling the popular people’s table. Or is he? His world is slowly falling apart. He can’t blame anyone, it’s his fault. But why is he so damn destructive? Why does he seem to poison everything he touches? Why can’t he just be content with what he has - isn’t he enough for himself? Not ever? There’s an easy way. A boring one. One that is laid out for you by everyone else. One that you despise just for the sole reason it’s not something you’ve chosen for yourself. You want to be the one to be in charge of your life. There’s a hard way. One paved with challenges. One that demands sacrifices. Will - the guy everyone wanted to be. The guy who’s about to become the person he wants to be. A savage.

Zane - 17 years of age. He’s a genuine mess. He doesn’t know how to interpret his own feelings anymore. Over the past few months a lot of things have happened that confused him. He’s turned into someone he doesn’t know anymore - he’s acting in ways he previously couldn’t even have imagined. A succession of negative events have driven him into a cold corner he’s now eager to return from. While he tries to figure out who the hell he is as a person, he’s also keeping his eyes opened, always reaching out to spot where happiness might finally cross his way. Zane - a genuine mess. An A-class train wreck. A savage.

Zoe - 17 years of age. A young girl on the verge of becoming a woman. She’s always made the wrong decisions. She’s never got an umbrella with her when the rain starts to pour. She’s never regretted anything she’s ever done, that’s the thing. She doesn’t know her actions influence other people. She’s got a lot to learn, and she’s being pushed to do so. When her past comes back to haunt her, she has to repair what’s left of her messy self. She’s out on a road on which she learns a lot about herself. A road that will certainly present some surprises that will be rather difficult to digest. Much-needed surprises to set the record straight. Zoe - a young girl finally growing up. Finally thinking about making right decisions, for once. She might be considering taking that umbrella with her more often. Because she might need it after all. She’s a… savage.

I’m currently plotting about six one-hour episodes that will tell the story over a course of a few months, maybe even a whole year in the life of these people. The series will not be a depressing drama. It will rather be a satirical, sometimes funny and witty dramedy. It will not exclusively feature the vast character development these four main characters will obviously experience. As I said, there will be many more characters. The things these characters are going through in order to find out who they are for themselves always involve their friends in some way. They’re in this together, and that will make for a few interesting, interwoven storylines. And of course for some juicy twists you didn’t see coming. Ah God, how I love screenwriting. And the writing of series in particular. I plan to have finished the pilot sometime in February. But we’ll see if that really happens. Stay tuned.