pure, unadulterated sadness
All summer long I've been trying to revitalise myself, in addition to cultivating new knowledge, losing weight, and preparing myself for the impending school year. All summer long, I've neglected such a task, which always felt to me gargantuan. It is in the summer though, that the greatest sensation has come to me. From wandering to Starbucks, to chatting incessantly online, I have learned one thing. As of right now, it matters little, as I still feel fragmented and estranged from myself. However, if you've seen About Schmidt, you ought have the vague notion in you that I just started crying (figuratively; still haven't cried since April 21, 2002). Yeah. that's the end of the movie, which, coincidentally, is coinciding with the end of summer. ironic coincidence, or planned genius? How about pretentious psychobabble coming from a slightly melancholy teenager. yeah. that's it.
I'm tired of mounting things on to me. My life has been like my weight; mounting with needless excess, mounting to coddle myself, mounting to represent the thickening and heightening Walls which surround me. I'm sick of it. I know I can't lose the weight in a day, nor can the wall come down in one either, but I think I'm ready to try harder at being a mensch (human being for those that don't know). yeah. I just need to remember to stay focused and to try to tune-in more to what's going on with me. It's not a bad thing to be emotionally repressed, it's just....horrible, particularly when self-inflicted. we all have our flaws, some of which are a part of us and some of which are needless excess that ought be taken care of. yeah.
I guess I'm just writing this because I was interrupted by my uncle. I'm sitting on my bed, trying desperately to read as much of the book I'm reading before 9 and bam! I'm interrupted. He wanted to greet my mother, whom he says he hasn't seen in days. There's more story that could be told, but just go with my fragment (if you'd like the unabridged version, IM me or e-mail me). I decide to go check on my mother (she was napping) and well, I did have to urinate. It was then that I came back to my room with the good intention of continuing my reading. I must also note, however, that I was looking at my face in the mirror and I'm not sure I recognise it anymore. I need to share and get a haircut. I digress. Confused by the image that was being reflected, but not paying much more thought, I hurried back to my room. Yeah. Well, I had the thought "what if ZW calls?" He hasn't called much this summer, partially because he's been hanging out with more people, partially because I keep implying that his phone calls bother me. Yeah. It then occurred to me to mark my calendar and write down the days I'm doing stuff this week ( tai-chi tuesday; movie in the park thursday; last 'official' day of summer friday). It hit me.
Last night I was trying to capture thoughts that come from well, *clears throat* being stoned. Reprimand me if you must, but I did do it. yeah. It's so often in life that I can speak and not know the weight of my words. I need to be more sensitive to such, and not just espouse whatever bullshit I want to, yet I must also remember most people don't think about every word they say, nor are they as insensitive or tactless as I am. yeah. so, I was thinking about the school year and then college after-wards and yeah. well, since those thoughts are still fresh on my mind, and I had marked my calendar, a wave of melancholia washed upon me. I love that feeling of melancholia. I struggle with it; I cry for it to leave, yet I always invite it into my soul. That has been one of the greatest gains in the year 2003: the return of that innocent melancholia. I've changed the wording, I must note; I have been describing it as a "bittersweet" feeling. Since this post is getting so long and incoherent, I think I'm going to try to read more, as every emotion washes upon me, never staying, but just visiting to show me I can still feel it. mostly happiness, sadness, and determination and yeah. anyways...
I'm a sucker for sad movies. I'm a sucker for movies. generally drama. anyways, around the 6th grade I had a 'cinema explosion' if you will. I'd watch a movie, either enjoy it or whatever, and cross it off the elaborate, ever-changing lists of movies to see I use to make. ( I still have the one from summer 1999 I made with Sandy :) ). yeah. anyways, I can think of two movies that stick chiefly in my mind from this period. To Kill A Mocking Bird and One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest ( I happened to rent both together one April; I was naive and young enough to be amused at renting two very different movies with birds in the title). yeah. well, it's one of the last few good memories I have with my family. we sat and watched both movies. It was Cuckoo's Nest first then Mocking Bird. Yeah. We sat there, and well, I'm pretty sure I cried. At that time, I could practically cry at the drop of a hat, okay, not really, but my sister had me convinced I was doing such. Watching MacMurphy died filled me with this vast swell of emotions that I still struggle to describe. It's this wave of completion, of the moment, of sadness, of desperation, of being out-of-yer-body and watching you experience this, of being happy to experience it, of wanting so desperately to cry and have MacMurphy back, but then realise it's a movie and perhaps it's not healthy for one to get caught up in such. at the same time, there is the consolation that it is celluloid and can be relived; MacMurphy can come back, only to die again, only to invoke more sadness. and yet, there is a happiness in seeing the completion of MacMurphy, of seeing the character evolve and spark life back into that ward. I think it's needless to say that Mockingbird invoked a similar feeling, however since no one dies (other than Tom Robinson, which is sad but unseen) I just had the sadness of not knowing what was going to happen next in young Jean Louis's life. To this day To Kill a Mockingbird is probably one of the most emotional books and movies I've ever experienced. I don't watch the movie much and I haven't read the book since freshman year, but I still skim it from time to time. I still long for more than the celluloid offered. does any of that make sense? It's like, I'm heartbroken over not getting to watch the rest of their lives, but I'm happy this little episode is over and they're all happy and stuff. Annie Hall is probably the only movie since about freshman year that comes close to invoking that feeling. but the cinema did come back alive, permanently, in September 2002 (with Road to Perdition) and nearly every movie I saw from then to about March 2003 deeply affected me. There's something about the silver screen. It leaves me longing, it leaves me broken and full of despair. And that's just what I need and want to get me through the rest of that moment. I just want to struggle with the conflicting emotions, because it somehow indicates to me that that moment is the only one worth living.
I'm tired of mounting things on to me. My life has been like my weight; mounting with needless excess, mounting to coddle myself, mounting to represent the thickening and heightening Walls which surround me. I'm sick of it. I know I can't lose the weight in a day, nor can the wall come down in one either, but I think I'm ready to try harder at being a mensch (human being for those that don't know). yeah. I just need to remember to stay focused and to try to tune-in more to what's going on with me. It's not a bad thing to be emotionally repressed, it's just....horrible, particularly when self-inflicted. we all have our flaws, some of which are a part of us and some of which are needless excess that ought be taken care of. yeah.
I guess I'm just writing this because I was interrupted by my uncle. I'm sitting on my bed, trying desperately to read as much of the book I'm reading before 9 and bam! I'm interrupted. He wanted to greet my mother, whom he says he hasn't seen in days. There's more story that could be told, but just go with my fragment (if you'd like the unabridged version, IM me or e-mail me). I decide to go check on my mother (she was napping) and well, I did have to urinate. It was then that I came back to my room with the good intention of continuing my reading. I must also note, however, that I was looking at my face in the mirror and I'm not sure I recognise it anymore. I need to share and get a haircut. I digress. Confused by the image that was being reflected, but not paying much more thought, I hurried back to my room. Yeah. Well, I had the thought "what if ZW calls?" He hasn't called much this summer, partially because he's been hanging out with more people, partially because I keep implying that his phone calls bother me. Yeah. It then occurred to me to mark my calendar and write down the days I'm doing stuff this week ( tai-chi tuesday; movie in the park thursday; last 'official' day of summer friday). It hit me.
Last night I was trying to capture thoughts that come from well, *clears throat* being stoned. Reprimand me if you must, but I did do it. yeah. It's so often in life that I can speak and not know the weight of my words. I need to be more sensitive to such, and not just espouse whatever bullshit I want to, yet I must also remember most people don't think about every word they say, nor are they as insensitive or tactless as I am. yeah. so, I was thinking about the school year and then college after-wards and yeah. well, since those thoughts are still fresh on my mind, and I had marked my calendar, a wave of melancholia washed upon me. I love that feeling of melancholia. I struggle with it; I cry for it to leave, yet I always invite it into my soul. That has been one of the greatest gains in the year 2003: the return of that innocent melancholia. I've changed the wording, I must note; I have been describing it as a "bittersweet" feeling. Since this post is getting so long and incoherent, I think I'm going to try to read more, as every emotion washes upon me, never staying, but just visiting to show me I can still feel it. mostly happiness, sadness, and determination and yeah. anyways...
I'm a sucker for sad movies. I'm a sucker for movies. generally drama. anyways, around the 6th grade I had a 'cinema explosion' if you will. I'd watch a movie, either enjoy it or whatever, and cross it off the elaborate, ever-changing lists of movies to see I use to make. ( I still have the one from summer 1999 I made with Sandy :) ). yeah. anyways, I can think of two movies that stick chiefly in my mind from this period. To Kill A Mocking Bird and One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest ( I happened to rent both together one April; I was naive and young enough to be amused at renting two very different movies with birds in the title). yeah. well, it's one of the last few good memories I have with my family. we sat and watched both movies. It was Cuckoo's Nest first then Mocking Bird. Yeah. We sat there, and well, I'm pretty sure I cried. At that time, I could practically cry at the drop of a hat, okay, not really, but my sister had me convinced I was doing such. Watching MacMurphy died filled me with this vast swell of emotions that I still struggle to describe. It's this wave of completion, of the moment, of sadness, of desperation, of being out-of-yer-body and watching you experience this, of being happy to experience it, of wanting so desperately to cry and have MacMurphy back, but then realise it's a movie and perhaps it's not healthy for one to get caught up in such. at the same time, there is the consolation that it is celluloid and can be relived; MacMurphy can come back, only to die again, only to invoke more sadness. and yet, there is a happiness in seeing the completion of MacMurphy, of seeing the character evolve and spark life back into that ward. I think it's needless to say that Mockingbird invoked a similar feeling, however since no one dies (other than Tom Robinson, which is sad but unseen) I just had the sadness of not knowing what was going to happen next in young Jean Louis's life. To this day To Kill a Mockingbird is probably one of the most emotional books and movies I've ever experienced. I don't watch the movie much and I haven't read the book since freshman year, but I still skim it from time to time. I still long for more than the celluloid offered. does any of that make sense? It's like, I'm heartbroken over not getting to watch the rest of their lives, but I'm happy this little episode is over and they're all happy and stuff. Annie Hall is probably the only movie since about freshman year that comes close to invoking that feeling. but the cinema did come back alive, permanently, in September 2002 (with Road to Perdition) and nearly every movie I saw from then to about March 2003 deeply affected me. There's something about the silver screen. It leaves me longing, it leaves me broken and full of despair. And that's just what I need and want to get me through the rest of that moment. I just want to struggle with the conflicting emotions, because it somehow indicates to me that that moment is the only one worth living.