Tuesdays WIth Morrie
I have always been a fan of Jack Lemmon and Hank Azaria. The former being perfect on both sides of the comedic/dramatic fence and the latter because he is married to Helen Hunt...and he's funny too.
I'm not even sure what it was that got me turned on to Tuesdays with Morrie, the book. It may have been Jamie/Maggie and our little faux book club conversation over amazing Barys bean dip and pocket Queens or it may have been discussing the complexities of life in the living room of Eric's mom who graciously spared a bedroom in her house for me and suffered through my monumental snoring. Or perhaps I picked it up wandering through the Hamilton Place Barnes and Noble trying to decide whether or not I had enough to invest in a Starbucks venti caramel macchiatto with extra caramel, read the liner notes and said this looks interesting. I just don't remember. Whatever it was, there are so many life lessons spoken in Morrie's alphorisms and Mitch's "final thesis" that it was a lot too absorb. When I read it, whenever ago it was, I remember being moved in such a way that I wish I knew how it particularly affected me.
I've joined the Netflix bandwagon here recently and the most recent selection delivered from queue of missed blaockbusters and gay cinema was the movie version of Mitch Albom's TUESDAYS WITH MORRIE. 89 minutes of the sort of emotional, spiritual and personal insight so necessary to to achieveing oneness with one's self. It moved me, it made me tear up and I felt the slow dribble of my sadness as it slid down my cheek and pooled around my eye. But so many movies do that and its not a necessity for it to a piece cinematic greatness or even contain a hidden morsel of a message about who we are as people. I just let it waterworks trickle, wipe the eye and watch the credits roll.
Here lately I have been saying things that have been foreign to my lips, yet when I say them it seems perfectly natural. Phrases like "I'm just not sure I can find romantic happiness in..." or "I mean I want to start thinking about a family." I'm guessing there is something big on my horizon, something more momentous and monumental than just another relationship or another step up on my career ladder. I have no idea what it is and I feel like I just need to let it happen. I have spent so much of my life looking from one week to the next, not day to day or even hour to hour both of which would be better, even if not the best possible outlook.
I have always been a fatalist, such and such ahppens for such and such and such reason. I'm late because if I were running on time I might not have avoided an accident, I chose the fish because the chicken may have arrived undercooked, I move to Florida because something will happen even though I have only $300 in my pocket and a car that is on the verge of dying. I don't know what to do right now, but I feel like it is just going to happen the way FLorida did, the way DC did, the Chattanooga did, the way Montgomery did and the way Massachusetts did.
A recent text extended me an invitation. God how I would have enjoyed the companionship, I'm sure. But yet I sit here typing on the keyboard of the one thing in my life that seems to command my attention. Morrie would probably suggest I'm running. Am I?
I'm not even sure what it was that got me turned on to Tuesdays with Morrie, the book. It may have been Jamie/Maggie and our little faux book club conversation over amazing Barys bean dip and pocket Queens or it may have been discussing the complexities of life in the living room of Eric's mom who graciously spared a bedroom in her house for me and suffered through my monumental snoring. Or perhaps I picked it up wandering through the Hamilton Place Barnes and Noble trying to decide whether or not I had enough to invest in a Starbucks venti caramel macchiatto with extra caramel, read the liner notes and said this looks interesting. I just don't remember. Whatever it was, there are so many life lessons spoken in Morrie's alphorisms and Mitch's "final thesis" that it was a lot too absorb. When I read it, whenever ago it was, I remember being moved in such a way that I wish I knew how it particularly affected me.
I've joined the Netflix bandwagon here recently and the most recent selection delivered from queue of missed blaockbusters and gay cinema was the movie version of Mitch Albom's TUESDAYS WITH MORRIE. 89 minutes of the sort of emotional, spiritual and personal insight so necessary to to achieveing oneness with one's self. It moved me, it made me tear up and I felt the slow dribble of my sadness as it slid down my cheek and pooled around my eye. But so many movies do that and its not a necessity for it to a piece cinematic greatness or even contain a hidden morsel of a message about who we are as people. I just let it waterworks trickle, wipe the eye and watch the credits roll.
Here lately I have been saying things that have been foreign to my lips, yet when I say them it seems perfectly natural. Phrases like "I'm just not sure I can find romantic happiness in..." or "I mean I want to start thinking about a family." I'm guessing there is something big on my horizon, something more momentous and monumental than just another relationship or another step up on my career ladder. I have no idea what it is and I feel like I just need to let it happen. I have spent so much of my life looking from one week to the next, not day to day or even hour to hour both of which would be better, even if not the best possible outlook.
I have always been a fatalist, such and such ahppens for such and such and such reason. I'm late because if I were running on time I might not have avoided an accident, I chose the fish because the chicken may have arrived undercooked, I move to Florida because something will happen even though I have only $300 in my pocket and a car that is on the verge of dying. I don't know what to do right now, but I feel like it is just going to happen the way FLorida did, the way DC did, the Chattanooga did, the way Montgomery did and the way Massachusetts did.
A recent text extended me an invitation. God how I would have enjoyed the companionship, I'm sure. But yet I sit here typing on the keyboard of the one thing in my life that seems to command my attention. Morrie would probably suggest I'm running. Am I?