(no subject)
I watched "Little Miss Sunshine" last night, and it wasn't all that spectacular. Although it was enjoyable, it was predictable, and more often depressing than it was funny. Although I'm usually a huge advocate for movies that make you wanna commit suicide, I guess I may have been in the wrong mood to watch it when I saw it last night. I was hoping to watch something to make me laugh hysterically. Maybe I should have just watched "The Big Lebowski," or "Sorority Boys."
...
So, I've been reading "Tales of the City," and have to say, I really enjoy it. It makes me want to go to San Francisco. Maybe rent a studio apartment, and find some corner cafe where I can make small talk with the baristas, and regularly pay way too much for a cup of coffee. Although now that I don't really drink caffeine, I wouldn't be able to make myself a regular, unless they sell exotic fruit juices or herbal teas. I suppose I could stand to pop in for biscotti or something, but anyway... I can't really afford it now, though it's cool to think about.
If I get philisophical, I could always say that through the descriptions, I've already been there. The brain can't really distinguish between physical and mental experiences, or dreaming and waking, other than our own perceptions on which is which. So maybe, if I fall asleep, I can dream I'm in an exotic location, with no obligations and no worries. Eventually, I could get to the point where my waking life is as tempermental as my dreams are now. It would shift, and I would unassumingly mold my reality between bouts of unconsciousness while I returned to my own world for awhile. The settings of my dreams would solidify, and I could spend the hours in happiness. I wouldn't have to worry about my fragmented, fleeting visions of money, work, or not being able to afford to continue school. Although in my state, I may again wish to return to everyday, wishing I could feel the stress and frustration that made easy, happy moments so much more intense.
And the cycle would continue, and the grass would be greener.
...
So, I've been reading "Tales of the City," and have to say, I really enjoy it. It makes me want to go to San Francisco. Maybe rent a studio apartment, and find some corner cafe where I can make small talk with the baristas, and regularly pay way too much for a cup of coffee. Although now that I don't really drink caffeine, I wouldn't be able to make myself a regular, unless they sell exotic fruit juices or herbal teas. I suppose I could stand to pop in for biscotti or something, but anyway... I can't really afford it now, though it's cool to think about.
If I get philisophical, I could always say that through the descriptions, I've already been there. The brain can't really distinguish between physical and mental experiences, or dreaming and waking, other than our own perceptions on which is which. So maybe, if I fall asleep, I can dream I'm in an exotic location, with no obligations and no worries. Eventually, I could get to the point where my waking life is as tempermental as my dreams are now. It would shift, and I would unassumingly mold my reality between bouts of unconsciousness while I returned to my own world for awhile. The settings of my dreams would solidify, and I could spend the hours in happiness. I wouldn't have to worry about my fragmented, fleeting visions of money, work, or not being able to afford to continue school. Although in my state, I may again wish to return to everyday, wishing I could feel the stress and frustration that made easy, happy moments so much more intense.
And the cycle would continue, and the grass would be greener.