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oneirophreniaSuch is my mindset right now, because: 1) I've been awake a looooooong time (since 9am); 2) despite being long, today was very nice; and 3) I guess it's just that time of the year to feel all selfconscious and dorky for some unknown reason. Regardless, here are some random thoughts for y'all before I lay down and read myself to sleep:
* As my little niece would say, or used to say (she's 10 now): Happity brithday,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
raincrystal!
* Goddamn Joel and his Sealab 2021 or 2020 episodes or whatever the hell they're called--they made me snort like a dang pig tonight I was laughing so hard! I haven't done that since...hell, I don't even know when--at least a few months. I think since the last time I saw Happy Gilmore. I know I shouldn't be embarrassed, because normally I'd take pride in something like that, but, hey...that leads to:
* Sometimes, even in the third decade of life, it's real easy to feel terribly selfconscious and fidgety--almost like a schoolboy...though now I'm a schoolboy on the other side of the desk. Wow, does that feel weird. Not exactly unpleasant, though! I've rather missed the thrill and the exhilaration of feeling like a seethrough bundle of nerves. Hell, that inspired a hundred friggin' short stories when I was younger, it'll probably inspire the same now--and they'll be of much better quality this time around, I swear! Heh. It's certainly amusing as all get-out, if nothing else. And I always have big goofy sunglasses and a suave, debonair accent to hide behind!
* I've a metric TON of papers to grade tomorrow, but that's okay. I've promised to reward myself with another viewing of Lost in Translation after the grading holocaust is finally over. You know...I really don't know why I identify with that movie so much--I am neither a sad old fogie trapped in a dessicated marriage, or am I a sad young fogie trapped in a completely pointless marriage...but I guess I just feel a great deal of sympathy for people lost in completely alien surroundings. I guess I should read The Man Who Fell To Earth again sometime soon. Or just go to sleep, since I always seem to get slightly melancholic when I'm really, really tired and the last remaining embers of Bass Pale Ale are slowly cooling in the back of my brain.
* Hmm....Speaking of alcohol. I feel a very distinct need to bust out the blender soon. It's been a while since I've made a Margarita of Doom(tm)--at least since New Years--so the time may once again be drawing nigh as ancient prophecies once more roll into motion and again the Angel of the Pit, a.k.a. me, must again summon forth the inimitable Chalice of the Cuervo(tm) and break the Seventh Seal on the Bottle of 1800. Stay tuned, comrades and comradettes.
* And finally...Although sometimes it seems as though Time, like a running grave (to quote my boy Dylan Thomas), is always standing just over my shoulder with a stopwatch and an impatient glare, I always try to remember--though sometime it's hard--that Time is one thing that never runs out...at least for next few billion years. Sure, proton decay and/or the Big Crunch may eventually wipe out all of reality, but, in the near term, there are hours and days and months a-plenty to see anything to term, no matter how complex it may be. I should translate that into Latin and get it tattooed on my forearm so I always have a cribsheet to consult when it seems as though the clock is ticking too loudly. In other words...I've got a lot to accomplish in the next few months or years, but there's plenty of time to do it all.
Now. Sleep!
* As my little niece would say, or used to say (she's 10 now): Happity brithday,
raincrystal!* Goddamn Joel and his Sealab 2021 or 2020 episodes or whatever the hell they're called--they made me snort like a dang pig tonight I was laughing so hard! I haven't done that since...hell, I don't even know when--at least a few months. I think since the last time I saw Happy Gilmore. I know I shouldn't be embarrassed, because normally I'd take pride in something like that, but, hey...that leads to:
* Sometimes, even in the third decade of life, it's real easy to feel terribly selfconscious and fidgety--almost like a schoolboy...though now I'm a schoolboy on the other side of the desk. Wow, does that feel weird. Not exactly unpleasant, though! I've rather missed the thrill and the exhilaration of feeling like a seethrough bundle of nerves. Hell, that inspired a hundred friggin' short stories when I was younger, it'll probably inspire the same now--and they'll be of much better quality this time around, I swear! Heh. It's certainly amusing as all get-out, if nothing else. And I always have big goofy sunglasses and a suave, debonair accent to hide behind!
* I've a metric TON of papers to grade tomorrow, but that's okay. I've promised to reward myself with another viewing of Lost in Translation after the grading holocaust is finally over. You know...I really don't know why I identify with that movie so much--I am neither a sad old fogie trapped in a dessicated marriage, or am I a sad young fogie trapped in a completely pointless marriage...but I guess I just feel a great deal of sympathy for people lost in completely alien surroundings. I guess I should read The Man Who Fell To Earth again sometime soon. Or just go to sleep, since I always seem to get slightly melancholic when I'm really, really tired and the last remaining embers of Bass Pale Ale are slowly cooling in the back of my brain.
* Hmm....Speaking of alcohol. I feel a very distinct need to bust out the blender soon. It's been a while since I've made a Margarita of Doom(tm)--at least since New Years--so the time may once again be drawing nigh as ancient prophecies once more roll into motion and again the Angel of the Pit, a.k.a. me, must again summon forth the inimitable Chalice of the Cuervo(tm) and break the Seventh Seal on the Bottle of 1800. Stay tuned, comrades and comradettes.
* And finally...Although sometimes it seems as though Time, like a running grave (to quote my boy Dylan Thomas), is always standing just over my shoulder with a stopwatch and an impatient glare, I always try to remember--though sometime it's hard--that Time is one thing that never runs out...at least for next few billion years. Sure, proton decay and/or the Big Crunch may eventually wipe out all of reality, but, in the near term, there are hours and days and months a-plenty to see anything to term, no matter how complex it may be. I should translate that into Latin and get it tattooed on my forearm so I always have a cribsheet to consult when it seems as though the clock is ticking too loudly. In other words...I've got a lot to accomplish in the next few months or years, but there's plenty of time to do it all.
Now. Sleep!
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Date: 2004-02-22 06:44 am (UTC)I feel that it's about some very deep human stuff, not just the immediate situation of being trapped in a marriage, but the greater situation of being trapped. Of being powerless about your life. About being unable to complete things. About (more than anything) the fundamental difficulty of ever communicating truly to another human being-- most of the time you just can't, I mean, look at how both of the characters were with their spouses, these were people they loved and had married, but they couldn't communicate the things that were hurting them deeply in their heart. People live on the surface most of the time, so when they go deep inside and feel what's really there, when they have something to deal with that's hard and about truth and can't be simplified or explained, something they don't have a label for... if the other person doesn't SEE it, then the other person will never be able to understand what the hell is wrong, why you're being all weird and upset. Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson were both in that place, so they were able to communicate truly with each other, and be friends... but neither of them could communicate this with anyone else, and that's why they were so isolated, why it was so painful, so poignant. And that-- not the culture, but the reality of human feeling-- was what was really being lost in translation. Between every two beings, most of the time. And for once, it was shared. And yet, painfully, it couldn't be fulfilled.
That would be more coherent, but that damn Canadian beer is fucking insane. I probably wouldn't be talking about it then either.
Re:
Date: 2004-02-22 07:33 pm (UTC)I always try my absolute best to communicate as directly and clearly with people as I can--which makes sense, considering that's what I'm teaching others to do!--but...honestly, I think I fail a whoooooole lot more than I succeed. I always end up saying Too Much or Too Little; I'm either too open or too distant--and I don't have a clue as to how to adequately strike that balance. I generally default to Too Much, though, simply because...well, I've a big mouth to begin with, and it's so much easier to just say stuff than to hold it all back.
Now, mind you, it's not like I'm constantly fretting about such things: most of the time I just barrel ahead with whatever seems appropriate at the time and hope for the best, but every now and again--within reason--it never hurts to take a look at yourself and try to figure out what's working and what's not, so that I don't end up like Bill Murray, calling home at 4am Japanese time to talk about meaningless crap like carpet samples. :)
Of course, I don't plan on being a washed-up action film actor doing whiskey ads to make a buck, either. Heh. Washed up horror movie villain, possibly!