enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A very dry, DULL entry indeed. Be forewarned.

OH my. I've eaten SO much this weekend. I'd be embarrassed to tell you how much. But let it suffice to say that, among other foodstuffs, I consumed *two* baguettes and a round of camembert.

Good grief.

Since I haven't really eaten for two weeks, it seems rather about time that I reinvigorate my body with...nutrients and fat. Well, I suppose that fat is a kind of nutrient...

So I feel absolutely disgusting right now. To digest, I am drinking a small glass of red wine. In mid-afternoon. When there are tables still to complete. I'm such a rebel!

To finish off my weekend of gourmandaise I must tell you that I am going to go out and buy myself one of those 500g fine chocolate bars that I frequently go on about, on my way to the video store to return last night's movie.

Last night's movie was Conv3rsations with Other Women. It was actually quite good, and made me wistful and yearning in a good way. You felt that the young couple that they were were really in love...in the way that most of us are in love when we are young and truthful and hopeful but also mostly stupid.

If that makes sense.

Anyhow. I liked it. I've always liked Helena Bohh@m Cart3r. I'm not just thinking of the ever-favourite A Room with a Vi3w, but also of Wings of the Dov3. I like the extremity of her face and of her pale, pale skin. I'll always get chills when I think of that scene of naked negotiation at the end of WOTD.

Yesterday afternoon I had watched The Secret Life of Words. (Rather cheesy trailer I am afraid.) In case you haven't heard of it, it's a film in which Sarah Poll3y plays a quiet (and hearing impaired, though that is not the point, exactly) young woman who nurses Tim Robbins. He has been seriously injured in an accident on an oil rig in the North Sea. She nurses him *on* the desolate oil rig. Sounds rather strange but it evolves fairly naturally. And as the film evolves they gradually reveal the things that underly their self-imposed isolation. Whilst I can understand the criticisms of the movie--it's a far from perfect work and some of it is way over the top--I loved Sarah Poll3y's and Tim Robbins's performances. I've been crazy about Sarah Poll3y for quite some time now. I like the fact that she transforms modest attractiveness into luminous beauty with the sensitivity of her facial expressions. And I like the fact that she does as she chooses with her career. I'm greatly attracted to her style.

I liked the imagery of the film, and although somewhat too obvious I liked the message too. The behaviour of the characters mimics what I've been doing for a number of years now--hiding out from life to try to heal things that I don't quite understand. I think I'm emerging from this crysalis, slowly, and with the expected attendant tidal waves of emotion.

I've been thinking a great deal lately about the fact that I'm not starting things that I want to do. I'm always waiting for tomorrow. I'm always waiting I guess because of some kind of fear, unidentifiable fear. Sometimes I feel utterly paralysed. This morning, for example, I was thinking of the latin dance class schedule that the scientist sent to me. There's a big part of me that would like to leap at something like that. I mean, not exactly that, but activities that other people typically engage in. I'd probably enjoy it and I'd probably meet some new people. But I choose to stay at home in my living room.

I tell myself that it is partly that people in general bore me. I want something more exciting to happen, for a more thrilling venue to leap up and force me to visit it. But this is a cop out, an excuse, and reflects my current and disappointing inertia.

Sometimes it is rational. I mean, sometimes it makes sense to wait until one has a permanent job to do something. For example, something that costs money. I've been putting off joining things and taking a bunch of lessons this winter, for example, in part because of that. But I know in my heart that most of my choices have nothing to do with money. After all, whatever happens, I'll be able to find another job and will be able to make money. I've never not been able to do this before. And doing things, committing to things, forces you to *make things work*. In other words, if I were to go out and get involved with things I would no longer fear not having job...becuase I would of necessity go out and GET the job of my dreams to support this great life that I'd built. As it stands, I'm waiting. I'm waiting, as usual. And it is SO stupid.

I don't know. I'm not explaining this well. It's just that sometimes I'd like to be more of a go-getter. I'd like to be reading more and fully expressing my ideas, instead of in the vague tidbits that I choose...and yet I don't do it. I'd like to be adventuring more...and yet I don't do it. Much of my adventuring goes on in my mind, these days.

So how does one free oneself?

Anyhow. There's no immediate answer to that, and it must, furthermore, come from me. It's like diet and exercise--no amount of external push will ever do the work of intrinsic drive to make a change.

So I watched The Secret Life of Words and loved the images of the sea from the oil rig. I adored the cool, quiet colours of the film. The still green grass, the feeling of dampness of the air, the simplicity of the clothing.

I'm unduly excited about the theatrical release of SP's debut film: Away from Her. This is the trailer, if you're interested.

It will pretty much show nowhere, I am sure. I am not even convinced that it will be good. In fact, it will likely be a typically weak Canadian film with lax editing and a script that should have been tightened, greatly. But I have always been so affected by Alice Munro's stories that I am dying to see the film. It's based on a story called The Bear Came Over the Mountain, about a 45 year marriage ending with Alzheimers, basically. It's about much more, really. It's about the marriage operating around such things as the man's philandering with his college students in his youth. I guess it's about the ebb and flow of needs. There's a passage in that story that I will never forget--and, curses, I can't find it right now--in which the man is sizing up the wife of a fellow nursing home patient with whom his own wife has formed an attachment. His sizing up of her life, her sexual needs, the choices that she has made, when standing begging with her in her kitchen gave me the chills. I dreaded the day when someone would cut through my bravado and wrinkles and makeup to see the cheapness of me.

When I first read Alice Munro's stories I was probably about twenty. I knew the social and physical geography of her stories well, since it's the territory of my family life. But I didn't understand, frankly, why her stories had to be so...depressing. Most of her women have compromised themselves and only recognize their compromises too late.

I remember--later on in my twenties-- lying in bed one day with this mathematician with whom I could simply not fall in love. I wanted to; I just couldn't. That day he had gone out and bought me a huge anthology of Alice Munro stories. Some I had read before, and some I had not. I remember reading that book in bed for a week of nights or so and by the time that I got to the end of that book I was no longer in his bed. I couldn't do it. Cheat someone of more, that is. Be hollow and untruthful.

In retrospect I realize that I was simply not equipped to love anyone at that time, most particularly myself. I guess I got this. I made weird decisions like this, following an inner compass with complete unconsciousness. He was gorgeous and kind and wickedly smart and I could have done far worse. :)

Anyhow. This is boring. Very boring. I'm boring myself. I blame it on the lethargy that comes after extreme overindulgence in animal fats. :)

So, I should really make tables while the sun shines. And return that movie. And plan a run to take place at some point this evening. And buy chocolate... :)

2:37 p.m. - 2007-02-25

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next

other diaries:

stepfordtart
ohell
awittykitty
annanotbob
manfromvenus
smartypants
fifidellabon
hungryghost
hissandtell