I have a lot of weird interests or rather I have opinions and info about a lot of things that hadn’t been regular topics of conversation before Xina. I’m interested in different things and before her I would never really talk about those things to people because I don’t want to feel like a know it all because of the broad range of my interests and the level of depth that I usually invest in them is more than surface usually. Anyway, I can’t seem to turn it off. It isn’t the topics, it was having someone want to listen to me, who wanted to be engaged in what I was interested in, rather than me doing all the listening. it was new and I liked it and I miss that.
I love you
I give you my
I have to
take care of you
You have my
I’ve been here before
any number of roads
available around me
all of them scaring the shit
out of me for their own special
and non special reasons like
some roads have heights I’m afraid of
or spiders or boredom or bosses
or ease or cleaning or stupidity
and I am standing here open
and broken and
well the first time
I desperately wanted to run
my car into a wall
I was choosing that road
then next time I buried myself in work
looking for work, measuring work,
hating work, getting good at work
I chose that road
now, here, again
ambition, motivation, determination
have left me tired and drained
and openly broken
now again, these fucking roads
There are days where gratitude for Xina in my life are enough to shove her absence aside for a moment and there are moments in those same days when her absence stuns me into silence.
It takes energy to swim against the tides in one’s life. To reach over and over again in a direction that sometimes opposes the flow of what has gone on before when one turns for a new path, a new thought and an old forgotten dream.
And I am tired. Tired. Tired of striving, desiring, wanting, pushing, digging, holding, waiting, hoping. Tired of effort and drive and persistence and perseverance.
I want to be here now and be done with the rest.
and can’t do it anymore.
Can’t don the cape and leotard
can’t sling the gun or roust the horses
for yet another frontier
I’m going to stay right here
awhile and decorate the hole
I’ve dug myself.
I decided on a course of action that I can’t undecide. I have to leave here and go there. I can come back but I can’t not leave here first. I am going to make my way.
What would happen if we let them loose? What if those girls who had to always be ready to fight, won every single battle waged against her? IF the boy who “knew she wanted it” ended up the shamed one? what if the uncle covering her mouth and ignoring her dazed silent struggle read the danger in her resistance and simply stopped? Who would we let loose upon the world then?
There are so many different times that I have started and stopped because I couldn’t imagine anything perfect to work on. It is not unusual for me to get caught up in perfect. I also get stuck because I don’t have anyone to talk to when I get stuck. I don’t like the forums. Responses can be obtuse without being helpful; often sending me down two other rabbit holes to find a way to apply the solution that turns out to be wrong for what I want. Nevertheless, I keep coming back trying to figure it out because there’s something I want to say. I don’t know what it is but I keep trying to say it through learning this web stuff. so yeah, trying again…
John Wick was okay but is the least interesting of the three. There are almost no females significant to the plot but the requisite dead one. For contrast I suppose, they added one as a shooter but she’s not particularly interesting. There’s no surprise in “woman as assassin”. John Wick’s world is a world of men, manners, and violence. And all they need to kick it off, is the whisper of a reason.
I am a Denzel Washington fan and except for John Q, Training Day, and maybe one or two others, I almost never hesitate to watch his movies over and over again. The Bone Collector is one, Out of Time is another, Man on Fire makes the re-watch list.
He starts the movie broken. finds that he is still capable of something other than violence and murder. Returns to it beautifully, poetically, when his reason for hope is taken from him.
With John Wick, from the very beginning we’re told he’s a master at violence. To my mind there’s no reason to believe otherwise. The rest of the movie is pretty much just a demo of what we’ve been told is true. Why wouldn’t it be true? We haven’t been told any reason it shouldn’t. The movie follows in the only way it can.
With Creasy, we haven’t been told anything about him. We’re shown that he needs a job, he’s a drunk, he’s capable of providing security, and he’s on the suicidal side. We learn something about him when he begins to train Peta. We learn something about him when he recovers from the abduction. Who he could have been is revealed when he learns she could be alive, He is able to rest in the end.
As for Sweeney Todd: first I love Stephen Sondheim. I love his lyrics, his songs. They just make me happy. This staged version is good enough filmed theatre.
There’s only one reason for all three of these movies. some man’s loss of the love of a woman.
So I think I finally get it. There is no need for me to remain tuned to their frequency just in case people who have rejected me might at some future date change their mind. I need to free up the channel for something else. so ended up dropping a few minor connections that i made unconsciously hoping for someone to come back to me.
Not that I’m not open but I think that I end up in this space of feeling hurt that I don’t acknowledge but feed anyway. Wasting my energy thinking that someone would not reject me if they really thought about it. And wasting my time wondering if I’m a good person because someone rejected me. I am a good person before and after rejections.
A person rejected me. It’s their process not mine. I needed to let it go.