Here’s to hoping we can grab hold of some originality.
This thought brought to you by the hundreds of re-makes that are now coming out in theatre’s. I was speaking to my Father earlier today and mentioned that the point of these films is that they came out when they did. Added on to that ideal is also the enjoyment as to what “effects” were available at the time. So what 3D wasn’t on the big screen or that special effects weren’t at their peak. I do not mind. I especially do not mind the sound of a grown man making the “chi-chi-chi-ca-ca-ca” sounds in Friday the 13th.
It is indeed the point that the films were made then and therefore in their prime. Is it sad for us to relive the periods for which the films were made? Are we so caught up in the “give me now’s” that we must steroid enhance all films that have already been produced? What is this?
Books are still being made. Yes ideas are recycled, whether it be due to the seed of “I’ve heard a similar story once before” or that humans are only so original, books are constantly being written. Films, please join the club.
I know originality is in short supply and that themes replay themselves. Heck, “vintage” is always in and styles once “forgotten” are making the full swing back.
None the less as a viewer I am frustrated.
I love you. Now please show me something I haven’t seen.
My life feels in constant motion. I’m not sure how long this will last or if it will ever end.
Motion as in chaos.
I’m making monumental decisions about my life. Where. When. What.
It must be done. Things are different now, though I’m holding on, and I must change with it.
For now my focus is the gym and hang-outs when I want to. You could say I’m hiding out but I feel focused. As much as possible when life feels so distracted and unrelenting. My break is books and keeping away from others.
This year is transitional and next year will be bigger. I see things ahead, on the horizon. Maybe to be expected by some but for me…it’s finally happening.
Life is like a rocket ship through space. Quickly moving through what seems like…nothingness. Possible collisions. Surrounded by unknown. The furthest reaches are slicked with fear, black ice. Here we race.
We can quantify all the significant moments in our life. I feel like there’s a file drawer somewhere filled with empty folders. I believe them to be pre-labeled. Ready to be filled.
Life doesn’t seem to be moment by moment. It’s chunk of time by chunk of time.
Feels so quick. Like that rocket. Traveling. Constant. The deaths are the ends of journeys. We made it to the moon but how? It’s that. The recollection. The reliving. The remembrance. Don’t you feel it? It’s the culminating moments. Who we were when making our way.
We’ve been so many versions of ourselves and continue to change.
I’m not sure who I’ll be a year from now but there will be some part of me that I’ll miss.
I raise my glass to the pain. The pain of new life. The pain of a dead life. The pain of cycle.
Mourning comfort and security. I can say, honestly, I liked being Married. When it was good. Something stable in an ever rocking world. Sadly, there’s more to it than titles and misinterpreted perceptions.
Cheers to the rose-colored glasses. Cheers to the naive.
Indecisively I sit. Crawling more like. Towards that light in the corner. There’s something hopeful about it. Hopeful it leads somewhere. Hopeful it can be anything.
Crawling disjointed. This is all so new. I was walking so long I’d forgotten how to crawl. Training wheels. Crawling feels more desirous. Your end destination more of a journey. An adventure. An accomplishment.
The light stares back at me. Barely. Squeezing my eyes to make sure what I see is real. The light. So dim. Crawling again, confused.
When did I start crawling? What is that light? It so barely glows I’m surprised I noticed it at all. I’d say it was calling to me but it’s reflectant glimmers barely whisper my name.
It seems so far away now. Is it really there? Like a galaxy spotted at side glance, who knows for certain it’s existence. Light please bring good fortune. After all crawling is so…unnatural now. Begging really. Pleading.
Not sure why I even care for this light. Long for it. Crave it’s explanation. But I do. So I’ll continue to crawl. Towards.
Obviously I’ve caught some sort of romantic bug. Quote of the day. Songs trapped in my head. So glad that Pandora isn’t fueled on brain waves. What is it to feel romantic? What is it to have some sort of chocolatey gooeyness coursing through your veins?
It feels like a health condition.
Usually when thoughts like these pop in my head I create a Romantic Comedy Marathon on Netflix. Fuels my, already deep, addiction.
What I enjoy about feeling like a human sweetheart candy is the innocent and jovial factor. Currently I might have a bitter after taste but blood still courses hot through my heart. Every beat a yearn for what can’t be mistaken to be human nature. There will always be a gravitational pull towards those who surround us. Like the variables in an equation, we dance around symbols and signs. The dance continues on until we make our way to the logical conclusion.
We were born for it. Created for it. Fish do it, less complicated of course. Whether it be spawning or bonding that bring us together we find a match. Who knows about that “only one special someone” factor. Not sure if I believe that, not now. But what I do know is at the right moment there will be no doubt.
I’m literally gushing. I cannot believe I feel so red-cheeked and smitten with simple ideals.
“I hate the way you talk to me. And the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare I hate your big dumb combat boots. And the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick – it even makes me rhyme. I hate the way you’re always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh – even worse when you make me cry. I hate it that you’re not around. And the fact that you didn’t call. But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you – not even close, not even a little bit, not any at all.” – Julia Styles (10 Things I hate about you)
I guess this quote means I’m feeling a little romantic, today. It must be the snow storm effect. Trapped. Hot Cocoa. Boots. Or maybe it’s just because I have listened to Michael Buble‘s rendition of Fever, about 20 times in the last 24 hours. Whatever it is, I like it. No downplay.