Even if I was 100 percent efficient, I don't think I'd be able to do all the things I imagine I want to do. So I usually just end up not doing anything.
Lately, life has been a mix of completely new and still engrained. From Monday to Thursday I go to work. Sometimes I run with a friend or two in the morning. Sometimes I eat with someone during lunch. Sometimes I stay at the office until 7, or 8, or 10 once. Sometimes I work on Friday for a few hours. I almost always get groceries on the way home Monday and Thursday nights. This past Friday our layout person and I finally wrapped up our January issue. I'm only a month and a half behind schedule. It was a great feeling, and terrible.
Friday to Sunday I go back to weekend Chris. He imagines reading and taking walks and doing crafts and cleaning up. He usually doesn't get anything accomplished, really. He plays on his phone Friday night, but at least starts listening to Christian music. But he'll also watch YouTube videos of celebrities on Jimmy Fallon or Conan. I suppose he feels guilty, but mostly just figures he's "apathetic." Or whatever it is when one doesn't feel much about anything. He's done this "Sabbath" thing for a long time. He tries to go to first service at the university church and pay his tithe and offering once a month. He started taking notes of the sermons a few weeks ago. It helps him to think more, but he still doesn't do anything as a result. He intends to cook a nice meal for lunch, but sometimes just has the good ol' double sandwich and chips. Afternoon is often a repeat of Friday night, sometimes a hike with people instead if he's ambitious, or a visit to his favorite 7-tree Redwood Grove at Caroline Park to sit and read, or try and figure out his feelings. Then it's usually popcorn and a movie, or just more celebrity videos. Maybe some humor blogs. Maybe an article. Sunday is typically just more waste. He might get laundry done. Maybe clean some part of the house. Maybe go for a run. Probably feel bad about not calling his great aunt. Or anyone else, for that matter. Maybe wonder what the housemates think of him. Maybe spend a moment imagining living in his own cabin in Running Springs. Probably at some point feeling his back start to ache a bit.
Sometimes I still have thoughts flicker through my mind. I might wonder how I'll ever meet a girl, or anyone new around here, really. I might consider for an inhale what I aspire to be. I might, for the exhale, think about my age. I'll wish I wrote in my journal, or used my computer for other than the Internet, or took pictures with my real camera just for fun. I'll think about my sitting, and think I ought to do some workouts, maybe some crossfit, or at least some pushups. I might look at my shelves in the pantry and wish I didn't have to prepare food. I might wonder if I could go to the theater or a restaurant alone. I might consider reading, but then remember the book I'm in isn't that exciting, and plus, Instagram and Twitter need checked again. I might want to listen to some of the cool music I've heard the past four days, but then not be able to think of a single group.
I cleaned my room today. It's still cluttered, but neatly. Kind of like me, I suppose. I combed my hair and vacuumed the floor. I cleaned the shelves and windowsill. I moved some things to underneath my cot, which should've been done months ago. I put my sweaters on the shelf that's been empty forever. I started an episode of How I Met Your Mother and wasn't feeling it at all. Then I remembered Brooklyn Nine-Nine and enjoyed a couple of those. I watched some Tavi Gevinson and Emma Watson interviews and I wished I could think like Tavi. I listened to a lot of Daughter. She is the best. I looked at the thought of journaling in my head, but didn't and won't. I finally opened this page and am doing this instead. Sometimes I wish I had a perfect cat.
And that's pretty much me lately.
Monday, February 9, 2015
Thursday, October 16, 2014
It's too late, for, disappointment
Maybe part of the problem is that I am producing, not creating. Nine hours a day, four days a week, seemingly lost to the fornever.
I dream to dream, but only scream in my head with balled fists, standing by the window watching the wind blow.
I say to her, "Haha, no, how silly," forcing the side of my mouth to rise in faux amusement, dead eyes betraying me. Turning back to my desk, the swear words silent and fiery.
I listen and feel the worlds and the heroes and the lessons, but never see my own. I keep telling myself they will show when the time is right and then I can leave. They are still unseen.
I learn that these things will not change. That this is simply my life. The ebb and flow of someone who will always be fine and never be well.
- - -
Sometimes, like in this moment, I fall into a sense of overwhelmedness by the simple creativity I see in others, usually from the Interwebs, sometimes in an Instagram caption, other times by a walk down a city street. Somewhere, somehow I began longing to be a part of this crowd. But just as easily I find myself longing to be part of the ambitious crowd, or the leadership crowd, or the healthy crowd. Pulled in different directions, never settling into myself. Hurting. And going back for more until I know I will never be the one to overwhelm another.
This is what it's like. Will you know it any other way someday?
I dream to dream, but only scream in my head with balled fists, standing by the window watching the wind blow.
I say to her, "Haha, no, how silly," forcing the side of my mouth to rise in faux amusement, dead eyes betraying me. Turning back to my desk, the swear words silent and fiery.
I listen and feel the worlds and the heroes and the lessons, but never see my own. I keep telling myself they will show when the time is right and then I can leave. They are still unseen.
I learn that these things will not change. That this is simply my life. The ebb and flow of someone who will always be fine and never be well.
- - -
Sometimes, like in this moment, I fall into a sense of overwhelmedness by the simple creativity I see in others, usually from the Interwebs, sometimes in an Instagram caption, other times by a walk down a city street. Somewhere, somehow I began longing to be a part of this crowd. But just as easily I find myself longing to be part of the ambitious crowd, or the leadership crowd, or the healthy crowd. Pulled in different directions, never settling into myself. Hurting. And going back for more until I know I will never be the one to overwhelm another.
This is what it's like. Will you know it any other way someday?
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Some thoughts on Noah the film
Watched Noah today and felt like putting some thoughts down, mostly for my own sake. I'll try to avoid spoilers, but we better all know the story...
For the grand scenery shots the setting was Iceland, so it was amazegorgeous. The actors were above-par and I felt did very well. I think the scripting, too, was enough, though I imagine the writers could've done a lot more in the way of philosophical side comments or advice. I'm glad they held back though, frankly. In essence, I think this story was told from a very human perspective and expressed in a way such as to display the humanity in the story—the parts you and I can relate with. (Which didn't come as a surprise, I guess.)
God was called simply Creator and was credited with creation and as a kind of good-impulse-giver, I suppose. They acknowledged Him enough to paint Him as someone the whole earth knew about, but whom most had dismissed entirely, usually in such a way as to become vengeful toward Him, at least passive-aggressively. And the rest, i.e., Noah, looked to Him as someone who deserved respect and an attendance in time of need or decision. But there were no over-zealous pious priests with face paint, no hyper-critical God-fearers preaching and condemning, no more-righteous-than-thous—and I liked that because it seems righter than always being right. But the way the film portrays Noah and his family makes it seem like they were simply following orders and nothing else. There was no room for mercy of any kind. No one else offered salvation on the ark. (But is that even Biblical, as it were?) No righteous, no blessed, just some that were found innocent enough to not be destroyed in the deluge. And then there really wasn't much at all in the way of praise or gratitude or worship, just a kind of somber resignation to die later instead of now. And so I found myself wishing the Creator had come out more of a winner; though, again, now that I'm thinking about it did He really win anything in that tragedy? I guess not.
I read the non-spoiler first-half of a review by Orson Scott Card (a favorite author of mine...) and he talks a bit about what I'll call the fleshiness of Noah's character—how Noah (actually, I guess Card was talking about Russell Crowe really, but I think it applies to both) was fit for the heroic moment but also man (human) enough to really struggle with certain decisions he had to make and that the struggle was believable. I agreed as I watched the film. Noah (Crowe...) was someone worth following, but also someone available enough to disagree with. [possibly some spoilerish material following...] And what Aronofsky's Noah ends up being is a man who respects the Creator enough to try and verify a vague message about the world's destruction, then follow through on some more vague instructions on how to save "the innocent" (the film's phrase), and finally, accept that perhaps the Creator really did mean the destruction of all mankind—regardless of what that meant for his family. In the end, I feel like the way the film's story rolls is the decision (or maybe the understanding or realization from their point of view) by the writers/directors that humanity was preserved by humanity and that the Creator allowed it but never displayed an outright blessing on it. In other words, I feel like somehow the credit for our existence after the flood is given to a man, not his Creator. Which to me is unfortunate, but also not a deal breaker. I feel aware enough to appreciate the film and actually enjoy it, but also that that point is one I would like to remember for my sake. I believe the Creator deserves more respect than we, and I, give Him. For more than just letting us persist after the flood.
All in all it was a cool film and story. Obviously there is a lot more that could be discussed. A lot of theology that people apparently are fussing about (I'm not on Facebook, thank goodness), and I'm sure dozens of other tidbits that folks will nitpick. Which, yes, I believe for every individual can be quite literally a life or death tidbit as far as what you believe goes. But for me, the above was the main takeaway. It was neat to see an interpretation of the event, "event" being a pretty light word to use. We talked (okay, I listened to talking) about Noah and the flood at Glacier View Ranch over breakfast a couple days last fall, and that plus the movie just further the realization for me that it must've been an absolutely unbelievable event in the as-close-to-literally way possible (except that I guess qualifying its unbelievability as "absolutele" is... a problem, or whatever). I mean, so epic. And with so few words written about it in the Bible it's kind of nice to have someone do the visual imaginative work for me, although the focus was not on the actual flood itself (which was nice, probably) and so it could've been represented much more expansively had they chosen.
I feel this "review" of sorts has gotten clumpy. I just liked the movie, okay. And the story. There are so many questions about it still and if I ever know (see!?) how it went down it will be amazing, I guess. It's a hard act to swallow, that of an apparently loving Creator God completely destroying everything He had created and blessed. What was that like for Him? What was Noah like? I don't know, but now I know how Aronofsky imagines it could've been like (if he believed that sort of thing).
If anyone reads this, it'd be fun to hear your thoughts or read your own review, so... share.
PS: I guess humanity saving humanity makes sense to me coming from an athiest, especially if the flood event is accepted even if God is not. I just saw the tagline on imdb's page for Noah and it says "Rediscover the story of one man and the most remarkable event in our history." And so, if random person A is just looking back on history, sees the flood story and maybe accepts it because of the proofs there are around the world and in ancient people's histories, then portraying the story as it is done is simply portraying an ancient family's belief in a Creator of the world and then subsequent survival of a catastrophic flood (the most commonly accepted version of the story, I think). I suppose it's like basing the story on the Bible as a sort of really old history book, not as Holy Scriptures. Because really, I'd say you could pretty much take "Creator" out of the entire story portrayed in the film and it'd still be fine. Except for the Watchers maybe. Though they are credited as coming from heaven, not as being some concoction of man. Anyway, there's a lot of over-analyzing going on in my head and not enough words to accurately portray the thoughts happening, so I quit. All in all I wonder if I am putting too much credit to one man (Aronofsky). In other words, maybe I'm the secondary English teacher insisting there are dozens of meanings to some poem or short story depending on how each person looks at it, when really, if you just asked the author, he'd say he just wrote a curious story about a bird and stick, or whatever. Maybe Aronofsky just tried to put himself in the mind of a Christian or something and make a cool film out of a pretty epic story. Maybe it's really simple, I just don't know. (And maybe he talks about it in interviews!? Okay I quit.)
For the grand scenery shots the setting was Iceland, so it was amazegorgeous. The actors were above-par and I felt did very well. I think the scripting, too, was enough, though I imagine the writers could've done a lot more in the way of philosophical side comments or advice. I'm glad they held back though, frankly. In essence, I think this story was told from a very human perspective and expressed in a way such as to display the humanity in the story—the parts you and I can relate with. (Which didn't come as a surprise, I guess.)
God was called simply Creator and was credited with creation and as a kind of good-impulse-giver, I suppose. They acknowledged Him enough to paint Him as someone the whole earth knew about, but whom most had dismissed entirely, usually in such a way as to become vengeful toward Him, at least passive-aggressively. And the rest, i.e., Noah, looked to Him as someone who deserved respect and an attendance in time of need or decision. But there were no over-zealous pious priests with face paint, no hyper-critical God-fearers preaching and condemning, no more-righteous-than-thous—and I liked that because it seems righter than always being right. But the way the film portrays Noah and his family makes it seem like they were simply following orders and nothing else. There was no room for mercy of any kind. No one else offered salvation on the ark. (But is that even Biblical, as it were?) No righteous, no blessed, just some that were found innocent enough to not be destroyed in the deluge. And then there really wasn't much at all in the way of praise or gratitude or worship, just a kind of somber resignation to die later instead of now. And so I found myself wishing the Creator had come out more of a winner; though, again, now that I'm thinking about it did He really win anything in that tragedy? I guess not.
I read the non-spoiler first-half of a review by Orson Scott Card (a favorite author of mine...) and he talks a bit about what I'll call the fleshiness of Noah's character—how Noah (actually, I guess Card was talking about Russell Crowe really, but I think it applies to both) was fit for the heroic moment but also man (human) enough to really struggle with certain decisions he had to make and that the struggle was believable. I agreed as I watched the film. Noah (Crowe...) was someone worth following, but also someone available enough to disagree with. [possibly some spoilerish material following...] And what Aronofsky's Noah ends up being is a man who respects the Creator enough to try and verify a vague message about the world's destruction, then follow through on some more vague instructions on how to save "the innocent" (the film's phrase), and finally, accept that perhaps the Creator really did mean the destruction of all mankind—regardless of what that meant for his family. In the end, I feel like the way the film's story rolls is the decision (or maybe the understanding or realization from their point of view) by the writers/directors that humanity was preserved by humanity and that the Creator allowed it but never displayed an outright blessing on it. In other words, I feel like somehow the credit for our existence after the flood is given to a man, not his Creator. Which to me is unfortunate, but also not a deal breaker. I feel aware enough to appreciate the film and actually enjoy it, but also that that point is one I would like to remember for my sake. I believe the Creator deserves more respect than we, and I, give Him. For more than just letting us persist after the flood.
All in all it was a cool film and story. Obviously there is a lot more that could be discussed. A lot of theology that people apparently are fussing about (I'm not on Facebook, thank goodness), and I'm sure dozens of other tidbits that folks will nitpick. Which, yes, I believe for every individual can be quite literally a life or death tidbit as far as what you believe goes. But for me, the above was the main takeaway. It was neat to see an interpretation of the event, "event" being a pretty light word to use. We talked (okay, I listened to talking) about Noah and the flood at Glacier View Ranch over breakfast a couple days last fall, and that plus the movie just further the realization for me that it must've been an absolutely unbelievable event in the as-close-to-literally way possible (except that I guess qualifying its unbelievability as "absolutele" is... a problem, or whatever). I mean, so epic. And with so few words written about it in the Bible it's kind of nice to have someone do the visual imaginative work for me, although the focus was not on the actual flood itself (which was nice, probably) and so it could've been represented much more expansively had they chosen.
I feel this "review" of sorts has gotten clumpy. I just liked the movie, okay. And the story. There are so many questions about it still and if I ever know (see!?) how it went down it will be amazing, I guess. It's a hard act to swallow, that of an apparently loving Creator God completely destroying everything He had created and blessed. What was that like for Him? What was Noah like? I don't know, but now I know how Aronofsky imagines it could've been like (if he believed that sort of thing).
If anyone reads this, it'd be fun to hear your thoughts or read your own review, so... share.
PS: I guess humanity saving humanity makes sense to me coming from an athiest, especially if the flood event is accepted even if God is not. I just saw the tagline on imdb's page for Noah and it says "Rediscover the story of one man and the most remarkable event in our history." And so, if random person A is just looking back on history, sees the flood story and maybe accepts it because of the proofs there are around the world and in ancient people's histories, then portraying the story as it is done is simply portraying an ancient family's belief in a Creator of the world and then subsequent survival of a catastrophic flood (the most commonly accepted version of the story, I think). I suppose it's like basing the story on the Bible as a sort of really old history book, not as Holy Scriptures. Because really, I'd say you could pretty much take "Creator" out of the entire story portrayed in the film and it'd still be fine. Except for the Watchers maybe. Though they are credited as coming from heaven, not as being some concoction of man. Anyway, there's a lot of over-analyzing going on in my head and not enough words to accurately portray the thoughts happening, so I quit. All in all I wonder if I am putting too much credit to one man (Aronofsky). In other words, maybe I'm the secondary English teacher insisting there are dozens of meanings to some poem or short story depending on how each person looks at it, when really, if you just asked the author, he'd say he just wrote a curious story about a bird and stick, or whatever. Maybe Aronofsky just tried to put himself in the mind of a Christian or something and make a cool film out of a pretty epic story. Maybe it's really simple, I just don't know. (And maybe he talks about it in interviews!? Okay I quit.)
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