Inspiration
So, I finally saw New Moon this week!!! It was awesome, but not the inspiration for this update. The previews featured a series of chick-flicks, two of which proclaimed an immediate love bond: one within a week, the other in two weeks. Despite all the devastating affairs in my love life that should have led me to believe that love isn't possible in the slightest, let alone feasible a mere matter of weeks, I still found myself wondering. Could it be? Is there really such a thing as love so instant?
Surely it's conceiveable that one could get to KNOW another person quite well in a matter of weeks, and perhaps that's what they mean. That the heroes of these movies find someone so completely compatible, so entirely to their liking, and that's what they mean by "love". In other words, the movies suggest that love is simply a strong form of like, and once attained cannot be reversed.
But what about the happily ever-after? When it comes time to actually live with the one they love, will it survive? How does love so transcendent transfer to day-to-day functions? How does love factor into an equation that also involves rent, extended families, children, and unforseen misfortunes in the uncertain future? There is no plausible answer that I can surmise from the brief clips of these movies that I watched, but it seems based on what I've witnessed in past films that we are expected to believe (or assume?) that love--true love--is like a shield that surrounds the bless-ed couple and protects them from all malice that could threaten their bliss.
And yet, I don't believe. Oh it's true, at one point I most certainly did have faith that such a miraclous phenomenon not only existed, but could happen to ME. But now I know better. Obviously what has occurred to myself in my own life has not deterred the faith, but seeing no other exception outside the realm of fiction certainly has.
Hopefully the irony that an entry titled "Inspiration" has yielded a product so utterly full of despair has become clear by now. It wasn't my intent when I started out, but I revel in it now as I realize, just the same.
The inspiration comes from the simple fact that I'm writing, again. All my life the urge has been there, insatiable, yet school and life became so time-consuming that I had to push pause on my passion. I kept telling myself, and sometimes others, that I was waiting for boredom to hit, a boredom so profound that the only solution would be to start writing again, as I once used to exhibit. Yesterday morning, that boredom came.
I've been stuck in a rut lately, but not the usual kind of rut. It wasn't the rut where I feel desolate, without hope and full of fear, with only the desire for death to cure it all. No, this was a different sort of despair, one that brought not pain but an overwhelming numbness. Lack of focus, but lack of hurt; lack of joy but lack of anger; lack of motivation for any deed benefitial or harmful. That's when it hit me.
The time had come.
This was the feeling I had been waiting for! How ironic! The moment when I felt less compelled to do anything whatsoever was the moment that I felt most inspired to begin the work that I had been neglecting for so long!
And so I put it off, until today. Heh. The irony never ceases...
Nevertheless, I write now to commemorate this occasion, to make a promise to myself and declare it outwards, even if nobody but myself will ever read this, to begin writing again. The intent is to start small, with journal entries like this one and perhaps some other meager writing exercises; but eventually I plan to get at the heart of my intentions--the Ecuadorian memoirs, the screenplay, the stand-up comedy that I probably won't (more like probably shouldn't) ever perform, but would like to get in writing anyway!!!
That is all for the time being. I depart now in order to prepare myself for the day of work ahead of me, followed by a fervent reading of "Eclipse" (third book in the 'Twilight' saga/series) so as to have it finished by the time I have to return it to my brother tomorrow at Thanksgiving.
On that note, however, I would like to remain for just a brief moment as I give thanks for all that I have in this life: the people (my family especially, the ones who will never desert me, my husband, friends, coworkers, and acquaintances), the animals (Lucy wherever she may be, bless her soul, and Tin-tin who has filled the void of her absence exceptionally, Buck and Teddy), my health, my education, the experiences that have shaped my life, and anything else that doesn't fit squarely into any of the aforementioned categories.
Thanks again, and God bless.
Surely it's conceiveable that one could get to KNOW another person quite well in a matter of weeks, and perhaps that's what they mean. That the heroes of these movies find someone so completely compatible, so entirely to their liking, and that's what they mean by "love". In other words, the movies suggest that love is simply a strong form of like, and once attained cannot be reversed.
But what about the happily ever-after? When it comes time to actually live with the one they love, will it survive? How does love so transcendent transfer to day-to-day functions? How does love factor into an equation that also involves rent, extended families, children, and unforseen misfortunes in the uncertain future? There is no plausible answer that I can surmise from the brief clips of these movies that I watched, but it seems based on what I've witnessed in past films that we are expected to believe (or assume?) that love--true love--is like a shield that surrounds the bless-ed couple and protects them from all malice that could threaten their bliss.
And yet, I don't believe. Oh it's true, at one point I most certainly did have faith that such a miraclous phenomenon not only existed, but could happen to ME. But now I know better. Obviously what has occurred to myself in my own life has not deterred the faith, but seeing no other exception outside the realm of fiction certainly has.
Hopefully the irony that an entry titled "Inspiration" has yielded a product so utterly full of despair has become clear by now. It wasn't my intent when I started out, but I revel in it now as I realize, just the same.
The inspiration comes from the simple fact that I'm writing, again. All my life the urge has been there, insatiable, yet school and life became so time-consuming that I had to push pause on my passion. I kept telling myself, and sometimes others, that I was waiting for boredom to hit, a boredom so profound that the only solution would be to start writing again, as I once used to exhibit. Yesterday morning, that boredom came.
I've been stuck in a rut lately, but not the usual kind of rut. It wasn't the rut where I feel desolate, without hope and full of fear, with only the desire for death to cure it all. No, this was a different sort of despair, one that brought not pain but an overwhelming numbness. Lack of focus, but lack of hurt; lack of joy but lack of anger; lack of motivation for any deed benefitial or harmful. That's when it hit me.
The time had come.
This was the feeling I had been waiting for! How ironic! The moment when I felt less compelled to do anything whatsoever was the moment that I felt most inspired to begin the work that I had been neglecting for so long!
And so I put it off, until today. Heh. The irony never ceases...
Nevertheless, I write now to commemorate this occasion, to make a promise to myself and declare it outwards, even if nobody but myself will ever read this, to begin writing again. The intent is to start small, with journal entries like this one and perhaps some other meager writing exercises; but eventually I plan to get at the heart of my intentions--the Ecuadorian memoirs, the screenplay, the stand-up comedy that I probably won't (more like probably shouldn't) ever perform, but would like to get in writing anyway!!!
That is all for the time being. I depart now in order to prepare myself for the day of work ahead of me, followed by a fervent reading of "Eclipse" (third book in the 'Twilight' saga/series) so as to have it finished by the time I have to return it to my brother tomorrow at Thanksgiving.
On that note, however, I would like to remain for just a brief moment as I give thanks for all that I have in this life: the people (my family especially, the ones who will never desert me, my husband, friends, coworkers, and acquaintances), the animals (Lucy wherever she may be, bless her soul, and Tin-tin who has filled the void of her absence exceptionally, Buck and Teddy), my health, my education, the experiences that have shaped my life, and anything else that doesn't fit squarely into any of the aforementioned categories.
Thanks again, and God bless.