Remind me not to click a link in an AIM window again. Ugh.
I didn't type up too much before, but I had a small part of an entry well headed in some direction, and then I clicked a link and -- solong opendiary.. hello link. When I clicked back, of course all I had written was gone.
What I was saying is...
This entry *could* turn into a movie review-
but don't worry. It won't.
I just returned back from a lovely night on the town with my good old friend Joe...
and <i>my mother.</i>
EH-- it wasn't that bad. I really enjoyed the movie. What did I see? <u>Far from heaven</u>, an indie flick w/ Julianne Moore (*drool*) about a high-society household in the 50's torn apart by secrets, namely a husbands homosexuality and his wife falling in love with a black man. The film was marvelous, a bit on the long side, but enjoyable every minute and managed to fill the requirements of what a movie should do. It had three dimensional characters, an interesting plot, a concept meant to make you think, a concept meant to make you think deeper than "wow... she's a poor maid and then she meets this rich guy but he will only like her if she's rich.. but- eh-- there is a happy ending after all, and an ending that leaves you hanging in a nealty tied ribbon. I'm really picky about endings, because too many movies find the wrong place to close-- they take things to far or ramble on for miles and then end up cutting to the credits right when the plot might have been going somewhere. <u>Far from Heaven</u> scored major last minute points by providing an ending that was created just for my enjoyment.. it was a five star closing, which makes it impossible to give the film a bad review. However, I said I was not going to review the film... and-- as much as I seem to be a cronic lier when it comes to these things, I'm going to keep my word. Uhmm.. (this paragraph wasn't a review, damnit. It was mearly a-- preamble to an amble.. a <i>r</i>amble.)
I have too many intellectualized thoughts flowing through my mind right now that could possibly turn into a decent diary entry. However, I will be unable to write anything that intelligent because wherever I am, I will be distracted by the other thing plaguing my mind. It's like I can never escape the horrors of an ADD mind... if only I had patience I'd be practically brilliant, but alas, I'm too scatterbrained to accomplish anything worth noticing.
(in an IM conversation I'm having at the moment, I said...)
<i>When I draw or paint-- it's like a performance.. it's about constant movement and putting things down and then going back and editing later. I need to see the full picture before I can make it better-- it's all there-- it has feeling behind it-- it's not just-- a drawing. Anything I do has to say something. Eugh. My rendering teacher does not like this . He looks at my work and says "well... I cannot say this is .. wrong... but..."</i>
I <b>KNOW</b> I personalize everything too much-- but, god damn it- someone has to take a stand for themselves and say *FUCK YOU WORLD, I'VE GOT SOMETHING TO SAY- no-- I've GOT A HECK OF A LOT TO SAY AND I really don't GIVE A FUCK if you listen... but i'm going to say it... okay? I'm going to say it. I'm going to FUCKING say it.*
<i>...what was I saying?</i>
Oh, who cares. I was just bitching about something or other for the thousandth time. I bitch and I bitch and I bitch, but will I ever do anything? No. I'll be sitting here bitching for the rest of my fucking life without a masterpiece to show for it.
I should be the next Shakespeare, Sondheim or Spielberg...
(but my name doesn't have an S in it anywhere)
BUT I haven't got the motivation. (yet). I haven't got the motivation yet.
All wise thoughts have been thought before but you must think them again and make them your own... all wise thoughts have bene thought before but you must think them again and make them their own...
ah, the quote goes something like that. Not exactly of course, my brain is far too self-absorbed to actually memorize anyone elses words.
Oh- I shouldn't say that, I very fantastically recalled a quote over desert-- "sex is hereditary, if your parents never had it-- neither will you."
Who said it? Beats me.
I'm sitting here on the verge of something great. Something, anything. ANything something anything something.
I feel as if I'm a rocket who just needs a light to blast me off into some sort of extraterrestrial wonderland. Beem me up scotty, just start my engine and fire me away---
I'll explore like a firecracker over the skies at one of those overpriced theme parks, perfectly underscored by dramatic blasts of music from all-too loud speakers spread neatly about so that everyone has no choice <i>but</i> to hear me.
Eh-- I'd probably end up missing my cue and misfiring, only to be further humiliated by a loud high pitched squeak from the soundsytem that those of us who have participated in an amplified high school effect know too well. My ashes will fall into some man-made lake and the soft sizzle they produce will be kindly left unnoticed. And so will go the story of my life... a little firecracker with much brilliance to offer, but never quite enough determination or bravery to truely soar into the sky and explore into a motely array of sparkling genius.
And, no, I'm <b>not</b> full of myself.
I just know what I'm capable of... and why I will never get near to being able to show the rest of you. Oh well.. I'll go on and be the drone that everyone wants me to be. I'll give up my odd, unique ways and become one of the majority. One of <i><b>them.</b></i> It's not the end of the world.. millions... billions have done it, and they die just fine. Some even laugh themselves to death. They live a life in an ignorant state of euphoria, which is a lot better than having to face a world of clones each day when you know you are helpless at saving the face of the world. It's like attack of the body snatchers... why does it really matter anyway? What I say- it shouldn't matter. It's too- personal. It's too- <i>Adena.</i> I give in. I don't give in. I give out. I want out. Out out out out out out out out out.
The flaw of this tradgic hero is that she is an unmotivated, impatient perfectionist.
Oh, wait- I guess that's three tradgic flaws. I never was one for mathamatics.
.........................................
Now, getting back to this movie, and one of the points I was trying to get to-- it's amazing how much this country has changed in 50 years... and even more amazing how <b>little</b> it has changed. I spent a large portion of the entire ride home from Redbank bitching about racism etc etc...
I didn't type up too much before, but I had a small part of an entry well headed in some direction, and then I clicked a link and -- solong opendiary.. hello link. When I clicked back, of course all I had written was gone.
What I was saying is...
This entry *could* turn into a movie review-
but don't worry. It won't.
I just returned back from a lovely night on the town with my good old friend Joe...
and <i>my mother.</i>
EH-- it wasn't that bad. I really enjoyed the movie. What did I see? <u>Far from heaven</u>, an indie flick w/ Julianne Moore (*drool*) about a high-society household in the 50's torn apart by secrets, namely a husbands homosexuality and his wife falling in love with a black man. The film was marvelous, a bit on the long side, but enjoyable every minute and managed to fill the requirements of what a movie should do. It had three dimensional characters, an interesting plot, a concept meant to make you think, a concept meant to make you think deeper than "wow... she's a poor maid and then she meets this rich guy but he will only like her if she's rich.. but- eh-- there is a happy ending after all, and an ending that leaves you hanging in a nealty tied ribbon. I'm really picky about endings, because too many movies find the wrong place to close-- they take things to far or ramble on for miles and then end up cutting to the credits right when the plot might have been going somewhere. <u>Far from Heaven</u> scored major last minute points by providing an ending that was created just for my enjoyment.. it was a five star closing, which makes it impossible to give the film a bad review. However, I said I was not going to review the film... and-- as much as I seem to be a cronic lier when it comes to these things, I'm going to keep my word. Uhmm.. (this paragraph wasn't a review, damnit. It was mearly a-- preamble to an amble.. a <i>r</i>amble.)
I have too many intellectualized thoughts flowing through my mind right now that could possibly turn into a decent diary entry. However, I will be unable to write anything that intelligent because wherever I am, I will be distracted by the other thing plaguing my mind. It's like I can never escape the horrors of an ADD mind... if only I had patience I'd be practically brilliant, but alas, I'm too scatterbrained to accomplish anything worth noticing.
(in an IM conversation I'm having at the moment, I said...)
<i>When I draw or paint-- it's like a performance.. it's about constant movement and putting things down and then going back and editing later. I need to see the full picture before I can make it better-- it's all there-- it has feeling behind it-- it's not just-- a drawing. Anything I do has to say something. Eugh. My rendering teacher does not like this . He looks at my work and says "well... I cannot say this is .. wrong... but..."</i>
I <b>KNOW</b> I personalize everything too much-- but, god damn it- someone has to take a stand for themselves and say *FUCK YOU WORLD, I'VE GOT SOMETHING TO SAY- no-- I've GOT A HECK OF A LOT TO SAY AND I really don't GIVE A FUCK if you listen... but i'm going to say it... okay? I'm going to say it. I'm going to FUCKING say it.*
<i>...what was I saying?</i>
Oh, who cares. I was just bitching about something or other for the thousandth time. I bitch and I bitch and I bitch, but will I ever do anything? No. I'll be sitting here bitching for the rest of my fucking life without a masterpiece to show for it.
I should be the next Shakespeare, Sondheim or Spielberg...
(but my name doesn't have an S in it anywhere)
BUT I haven't got the motivation. (yet). I haven't got the motivation yet.
All wise thoughts have been thought before but you must think them again and make them your own... all wise thoughts have bene thought before but you must think them again and make them their own...
ah, the quote goes something like that. Not exactly of course, my brain is far too self-absorbed to actually memorize anyone elses words.
Oh- I shouldn't say that, I very fantastically recalled a quote over desert-- "sex is hereditary, if your parents never had it-- neither will you."
Who said it? Beats me.
I'm sitting here on the verge of something great. Something, anything. ANything something anything something.
I feel as if I'm a rocket who just needs a light to blast me off into some sort of extraterrestrial wonderland. Beem me up scotty, just start my engine and fire me away---
I'll explore like a firecracker over the skies at one of those overpriced theme parks, perfectly underscored by dramatic blasts of music from all-too loud speakers spread neatly about so that everyone has no choice <i>but</i> to hear me.
Eh-- I'd probably end up missing my cue and misfiring, only to be further humiliated by a loud high pitched squeak from the soundsytem that those of us who have participated in an amplified high school effect know too well. My ashes will fall into some man-made lake and the soft sizzle they produce will be kindly left unnoticed. And so will go the story of my life... a little firecracker with much brilliance to offer, but never quite enough determination or bravery to truely soar into the sky and explore into a motely array of sparkling genius.
And, no, I'm <b>not</b> full of myself.
I just know what I'm capable of... and why I will never get near to being able to show the rest of you. Oh well.. I'll go on and be the drone that everyone wants me to be. I'll give up my odd, unique ways and become one of the majority. One of <i><b>them.</b></i> It's not the end of the world.. millions... billions have done it, and they die just fine. Some even laugh themselves to death. They live a life in an ignorant state of euphoria, which is a lot better than having to face a world of clones each day when you know you are helpless at saving the face of the world. It's like attack of the body snatchers... why does it really matter anyway? What I say- it shouldn't matter. It's too- personal. It's too- <i>Adena.</i> I give in. I don't give in. I give out. I want out. Out out out out out out out out out.
The flaw of this tradgic hero is that she is an unmotivated, impatient perfectionist.
Oh, wait- I guess that's three tradgic flaws. I never was one for mathamatics.
.........................................
Now, getting back to this movie, and one of the points I was trying to get to-- it's amazing how much this country has changed in 50 years... and even more amazing how <b>little</b> it has changed. I spent a large portion of the entire ride home from Redbank bitching about racism etc etc...