Those were the last lines of a movie that is about to change my life. There have been very few films that have truly captivated what reality is at its truest sense. I believe that some qualities of a good film may be compromised for the sake of art, but the mix of it all just seems very rare to make quite the cut in delivering a message.
Tonight was nothing special, so much so any more significant than the rest of my days. I just watched a film that I think is about to change the way I start to live, and the way I see things. I can’t even fathom as to where this subtle, yet sheer determination to change is coming from but I knew that the moment the credits started rolling, I had to document this profound moment of my history.
Up in the Air.
Its script was genius and intellectual. Perhaps it strikes me as an individual because I understand the characters very much that I embody the emotions they’ve portrayed.
“Imagine a back pack, put all the little things that mattered to you, ALL of it. Starting with the little things in your drawer – the people you’ve shared secrets with, those you’ve been intimate – your special mementos. Now put them all in there, and put it on…
Do you feel the straps on your shoulders?
….
Now try to move.
…
It’s difficult isn’t it?”
I am not alone in living a life where it seems like there’s always a heavy burden of self-inflicted pressures on your shoulder. I was too busy trying to figure out meaning and what seemed to be a biological obligation to find true love.
I’ve moved in inexcusable speeds because I’ve sidetracked, for many, many times to just stop and see that dying alone is something universal, and that we’re never lectured by those who have because, duh – they’re dead. And those that actually see either live in denial or just fail to publish what is to them, horrid.
This movie isn’t a love story.
I used to think 500 days of summer wasn’t a love story, but this – rea-hee-heely isn’t a love story. At all.
Zilch.
All this time I’ve been screaming to the world, how proud I am of being romantic. That I bear the scars of a wounded soldier of love and that my heart is held on together by strips of scotch tape, and Elmer’s glue, and maybe even a little rice because both my parents are of Asian descent.
I used to think it is of conventional chivalry to cushion other people’s blows in a relationship to please them, and that sacrifices of martyrdom manifestations were necessary as part of compromise.
What a shitload of bullshit.
Yeah I can use shit twice. Lol.
(Calming down)
I write this with no bitterness, but with the zeal of having to drive your very own existentialism. A world with no pain is impossible, otherwise you’d never live at all. But, what’s possible is living a life less of it.
“A prick is spontaneous, they’re unpredictable, and fun to be with. We all fall for them. And then we get surprised that they’re pricks.”
Ever wondered how some assholes in your lives just never get the cosmic karma they deserve and no matter how much you curse them, they never die? They can very well be the pricks that live lives better than yours – and you hated them because they weren’t the convention you seek.
Tell me, how is that feud any different from battles in politics, sexual differences, religion, divorce cases, relationships? Etc. Etc.
We’ve always held the peace we so long for. We just don’t see it because we all let others connect ourselves to them.
“Having company makes you happy.” “How many happy moments have you had ALONE?”
I never said anything about being in your own cocoon of self banishment. People will always be around to talk to. It really isn’t that bad to be single. I was a fool for believing a partner was all I needed to jumpstart a new beginning since I’ve quit my job.
I just typed this madness unstoppably that the keys on my keyboard have pressed themselves a little further down. (Or maybe not because my keys are kick-ass macintosh. lol) The fogs to the road Im about to take are clear, my man. I think I just re-created my universe. :)
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