Wednesday, July 14, 2004

Melancholy, Baby...


I just watched Before Sunrise for the first time. I'd honestly never had that much interest, but the buzz over Before Sunset got me curious, so... whatever...

Anyway, now I'm depressed. No, not because Ethan Hawke is a terrible actor, although he is. Not because the movie is overly manipulative and features far too many spot on moments. Both of these things are true. Christ, I'm a better jockey than Ethan Hawke is an actor, and I'm well over 200 pounds and haven't been on a horse in ten years! And, damn, if one more perfect moment with some outside force, an artist or a fortune teller or the sun or a bartender, had come on, I might have literally vomited.

No, the reason for my melancholia, is simply that everyone I know experienced something that makes that movie meaningful. They spent their early-20s having pseudo-deep bullshit conversations with people and finding it magical, so instead of watching the movie and thinking "These people are fuckwits!", they can watch and think, "I remember being a fuckwit like that."

I spent my early 20s raising my brothers and sister. I could - and often do - put the blame on my parents for forcing that to be my life position through that formative time. Ultimately, it was my own cowardice that made it my only choice. I never learned to be very good at being social as a child and it was easier to hide away than learn as an adult.

I think the process of having pseudo-deep bullshit conversations is a strengthening of a kind of social muscle. The ability to carry on conversations that are intended to explore yourself and the people you're talking to. Of course, people at that age don't have the skill or wisdom to explore those depths with anything real, so they fake their way through with pretentious fuckwittery. Through exercising the muscle, they're eventually able to hold real conversations that explore real truths about the people they're around.

I missed that training. I spent that time either talking to my little brother, who was still a child, or thinking on my own. As such, I have a brain focused on the same thoughts I think, so that's what I naturally regurgitate to others. It's all cleverness or trivia. It in no way attempts to explore the depths of anything.

So, I hold no personal relationship to the people shown. They merely seem like kids talking about things in a stupid way, which they are, but without that relationship to your own experience, it's pretty empty.

Anyway, I checked my Yahoo! bulk mail. I was doing the usual skimming through for any signs of personal meaning and saw the name "Dorthia", not a name one sees every day, but, in fact, my grandmother's name. It, of course, turned out to be porn. Porn of the least likely for me to view, the kind that makes me think of my grandmother.

I also wish to note that I am willing to defend my use of "literally" above. Yes, it probably was stretching things, as it was unlikely I would have literally vomit from that, but because it was a potential rather than actual event, the need for dramatic emphasis superceded the potential breech of grammatic accuracy. I was able to make the strong point that I was nauseated by the obviousness of the dramatic devices without being technically incorrect in my usage.

Yeah, I know, it was wrong. I wouldn't take this excuse from anyone else. They would be morons for trying it with me.

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