Movie of the Something
It's been a wild ride. Two nights of healing with Ash - early dinner, physical closeness, a rare ice-cream run, sufficient sleep - and I feel vaguely optimistic and chipper today.
My bursts of despair come when I do not do what I tell myself through my brain that I will do. That can apply to almost anything. When it begins to apply to any one activity or area in particular, that I tell myself to cut back on and don't, that's where the melodrama kicks in. My awareness of the world has looked like this a lot recently:
Job: 10% (things are low-key right now, but I still spend lots of time there)
Non-ashley people: 4%
World events: 25%. Mostly a secondary consequence of policyblog addiction. Want to break it out from:
Self-control perfectionism and related internal turmoil: 50% -although it should be in there.
Non-world-events-self-control: 25% - the other half of that 50%.
Girlfriend stuff unrelated to the above, including happy time/things: 20%.
Productive time exercising, compsci classing, cooking, other good losses of awareness: 15%.
This is not exactly time spent, not exactly time filling my mind, and not exactly weighted for the relative one-punch emotional force of each line-item, but somewhere in between.
-----
Anyway, just trying to put a closing bracket on this terrible and/or mediocre weekend in which I spent 20 or so computer hours doing 6 or so hours of work and almost nothing else of value.
It was a bad trip down the rabbit hole back to the worst times of DC, or maybe college, and I was probably softened up for it by seeing The Science Of Sleep on friday night,
which I simultaneously think is the best movie I've seen in forever, and yet when it was over sort of gave me a post-traumatic-stress syndrome minor breakdown.
The first .. well, large chunk is just a charming cute nifty clever romantic comedy. Gradually the same qualities which make the guy so quirky and neato and endearing and deserving lead him to say and do stupider and (eventually) outright abhorrent things so as to pulverize his once-budding romantic relationship with the shy charming girl saint, a characerization I cannot express without sounding sarcastic but seems like a completely genuine description when you're watching the movie.
It's funny when you get older. Your layers of personal security, the comfort levels of a relatively successful life, keep you from relating to things for 80 miuntes of a movie, but if they breach your defenses in the last five minutes, it's like an artillery shell going off.
Just typing this makes me ache. And I don't even have a person that comes to mind even more than hazily. It's just that portrait of failure, not only to get something like a girl, but even to successfully be, in the final accounting, a nice/good/something person.
Deberg, if you really want to punish yourself, see this movie.
My bursts of despair come when I do not do what I tell myself through my brain that I will do. That can apply to almost anything. When it begins to apply to any one activity or area in particular, that I tell myself to cut back on and don't, that's where the melodrama kicks in. My awareness of the world has looked like this a lot recently:
Job: 10% (things are low-key right now, but I still spend lots of time there)
Non-ashley people: 4%
World events: 25%. Mostly a secondary consequence of policyblog addiction. Want to break it out from:
Self-control perfectionism and related internal turmoil: 50% -although it should be in there.
Non-world-events-self-control: 25% - the other half of that 50%.
Girlfriend stuff unrelated to the above, including happy time/things: 20%.
Productive time exercising, compsci classing, cooking, other good losses of awareness: 15%.
This is not exactly time spent, not exactly time filling my mind, and not exactly weighted for the relative one-punch emotional force of each line-item, but somewhere in between.
-----
Anyway, just trying to put a closing bracket on this terrible and/or mediocre weekend in which I spent 20 or so computer hours doing 6 or so hours of work and almost nothing else of value.
It was a bad trip down the rabbit hole back to the worst times of DC, or maybe college, and I was probably softened up for it by seeing The Science Of Sleep on friday night,
which I simultaneously think is the best movie I've seen in forever, and yet when it was over sort of gave me a post-traumatic-stress syndrome minor breakdown.
The first .. well, large chunk is just a charming cute nifty clever romantic comedy. Gradually the same qualities which make the guy so quirky and neato and endearing and deserving lead him to say and do stupider and (eventually) outright abhorrent things so as to pulverize his once-budding romantic relationship with the shy charming girl saint, a characerization I cannot express without sounding sarcastic but seems like a completely genuine description when you're watching the movie.
It's funny when you get older. Your layers of personal security, the comfort levels of a relatively successful life, keep you from relating to things for 80 miuntes of a movie, but if they breach your defenses in the last five minutes, it's like an artillery shell going off.
Just typing this makes me ache. And I don't even have a person that comes to mind even more than hazily. It's just that portrait of failure, not only to get something like a girl, but even to successfully be, in the final accounting, a nice/good/something person.
Deberg, if you really want to punish yourself, see this movie.