From Logos to Rent

I thought I'd be spending the next few minutes reading for a class, but my thoughts are crowding my head, and I feel restless again. I'm not sure about what exactly I want to do, and I'm unwilling to impose my presence on anyone when I'm in this mood. I tried calling two of my friends from back home, but one didn't answer and the other reconnected me to her voice mail. I then started calling my friend in Canada, but I just realized that it wouldn't be nice of me to speak to her for the first time in months just to rant incoherently, so I put my phone away. Then I started thinking that maybe I should write in my journal, because that always gets me thinking straight again, but, somehow, I didn't feel like doing that. And then I remembered saying to one of my friends here that I was going to update my blog this weekend, and so I'll ramble here. It'd be a nice prop to my pretense of productiveness.

* * *

I wish I could write about my thoughts now, but I can't. I feel myself thinking, but I can't grasp what I am thinking about. I just feel a bit disturbed and not completely here. I sometimes think about why I like writing so much. And I'd like to think that it's because, by writing, I bring order to myself. Logos, isn't it? The Word. When my philosophy professor first taught us the concept, I felt so enlightened. Logos = the ordering of the universe. And the Word was made flesh. I remember thinking, so that's what those lines mean. I like it that the Word means something other than the word. Cause when I write, I use words (who doesn't?), and it's nice to think that there's more to my words than I see.

* * *

It's snowing outside. I like the snow a lot. It's white and powdery and it looks very clean. But when the grass peeks through it, I see the unshaven legs of a really white man with green hair. And when the snow falls, I see lots of floating dandruff. And when the wind blows, I feel the snow rush up my nose and mouth and eyes before I can do anything to stop it. Pretty invasive, actually; I was rather insulted the first time that happened. But other than that, snow is nice. It looks exactly like it does in the fridge, and I find it pretty. But my friends here tell me that it'll get brown and slippery and gross. So yeah, that's something to look forward to. In the meantime, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

* * *

I hate doing household chores. Well, okay, I don't really hate doing them. I just don't like having to set aside my time for them. I have not made my bed for days. I used to do it every morning, before my half-walk/half-jog to the law school. I'd tell myself that I was doing a favor for my future self (i.e. the me that would arrive back home from the law school for a few hours of sleep). And then I realized that by not doing my bed, I was doing a favor for my present self. So the present self won over the future, and the bed remains unmade.

I've developed some gross habits, actually. Take the fridge, for example. There's a blueberry rock in there that used to be a cupcake. A few weeks back, I bit into it, then remembered that I don't like blueberry (I only eat strawberry, and I hate cherry.). And so I stuck it there. I haven't taken it out yet, but I guess I will, at some point in time. Or maybe my flatmate will. But then again, maybe not. I like my flatmate a lot, but I sometimes get the impression that she's even grosser than me.

Most of my glasses are in my fridge. I drink from them, then don't feel like washing them, so they end up there, where I think they'll be safe from bacteria. And then I run out of glasses, so I have to use plastic cups. But that's okay. Drinking from glasses is overrated anyway. But back to the bacteria. See, those things grow everywhere. One time, I brought home an empty Snapple bottle, because I said I wanted to put orange juice in it. I put it in my room and then forgot about it. And then I saw it, so I went to get the gallon of orange juice I keep in the fridge. I was all set to pour juice into the empty bottle when I saw sea-urchin-like spider-shaped bacteria growing in the bottle. That was gross. I don't even know if I'm naming the creature correctly. I call it bacteria, but I remember now that bacteria is too small to be seen. Is the E-coli virus a type of bacteria? I don't know. But okay, if what I saw wasn't bacteria, then I guess I'd have to call it the grossest name I can think of. So okay, we can call it cockroach.

* * *

I saw Rent two days ago and Pride and Prejudice last night. (I could have seen Harry Potter tonight, but I felt that I had to get some work done over the Thanksgiving break. So much for that plan.) The music in Rent was as great as usual (the Collins guy has the best voice), but there were some things about that show that made me skeptical. Okay, first thing was how they all got to be friends so fast. See, the group there seems so tight, and they just met each other. Can it happen like that? I don't get really tight with people that quickly. And I didn't like the end, where Mimi said she saw Angel as she was passing through the tunnel of light. That, I felt, was stretching it a bit too far. It's just that the whole movie is so earthly and real, so the sudden addition of something like that is jarring, to say the least. And could Mimi really have spent weeks living off the streets and still have her hair look as un-greasy as that? She looked fine to me, except for the fact that she was dying. But I was glad to have watched the movie.

And on to Pride and Prejudice. After the film, my friend asked me if I had liked it, and I told her that I'd tell her today. She forgot to ask me that today, but if she'd had, I still wouldn't have been able to answer her. See, I had a good time watching the film. I'm just not sure if I think it's good. I thought that Mr. Bingley looked like a gay clown (was he the guy in Notting Hill?). He was just so easy-to-please and gullible, and I know he's supposed to be all that, but I'm not sure if he should have been so to that extent. Mr. Darcy was good. Elizabeth was, well, a little too frivolous for my taste, really. She kept giggling is why, and that got on my nerves a bit. I found Jane to be a bit flat, but my friend said that she was supposed to be flat, and I guess that could be true. Lydia was good. Lady Catherine was awesome. And the ending (Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy, mwah-mwah-mwah) was bad. It had me cringing and writhing in my seat. I don't wish Jane Austen were dead, but I guess it's a blessing that she wasn't alive to witness that. She would have died.

Anyway, the film did stay true to the essence of the book. It wasn't anywhere near as faithful as the BBC mini-series, of course, but for the most part, it didn't stray. I think when I get back home, I'm going to read the book again. I have to reconnect with the story, and then I can properly say whether I liked the movie or not. That said, I wouldn't be surprised if I end up seeing this movie again.

* * *

I don't have anything more to say. This is it, then.

Filler

I know I'm going to regret not going to bed right now, but the sleepiness that I felt while I was taking care of my laundry has disappeared, and I guess I'm writing this down to try and occupy myself before it comes creeping back. Not that I don't have anything more productive to do, mind. But yeah, who chooses to do the productive thing at 3 AM anyway?

So I said I'd write about "My Terrorist" and "My Land Zion" of Yulie Gerstel. The films won a lot of awards and are now apparently being shown all over. If you're interested, just Google the terms. I'm too lazy to hyperlink any of the stuff here. Anyway, all I really wanted to say was that I couldn't tell if I was watching a documentary or a 'film starring Yulie.' How much of it was contrived and how much of it was genuine? I'm not sure, but I think I was the only one in the audience who approached the film that way. A lively discussion erupted after the filming, with the audience really getting into the content and asking Yulie all sorts of questions about it. And the only thing I could think how I couldn't lose myself in what she was saying because my disbelief wasn't suspended.

And where that's concerned, I don't know if that's because I am just too disbelieving or because her films didn't really suspend disbelief that well. But that said, they did raise interesting points and shed light on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in a new way. On the suspension of disbelief, though, I finally understand, in a deeper way, what my Creative Writing teachers have been trying to tell me in their classes. You can't communicate effectively if your medium prevents people from getting into your story. It makes sense, methinks. That's definitely something to keep in mind once I actually write something.

Okay, I'm getting sleepy again. I wish I could write more about the interesting things that have happened to me so far. I'm quite abashed to note that my most recent entries do give the impression that all I've done here is think and whine. That's not true at all, but I won't get into that right now because I'm all too happy to walk away from the battle to stay awake. I'll save that story for another time. It's off to bed for me.

Wasting Time

I'm supposed to be doing this two-hour homework now, but there's a dull throb in my head, and I'm thinking that maybe I should try and get rid of that by writing something here. It's not working at all, by the way. The throbbing is increasing which each key that I hit, but I don't care. I'd rather have a headache and be writing than have a headache and work. Maybe this has to do with me sleeping at four this morning and getting up at nine. I like sleeping when I feel like it and so I do. But I don't like waking up to adjust to the rigid schedule of the world. Why doesn't the world adjust to me? Because it got here first? Because it's mean? Because it just feels like it? Questions that the world won't answer but which I'll throw at it anyway because I like doing useless things.

Oh man, I feel so wasted. What in the world am I typing? But unsurprisingly, the words still make sense. I wonder if they say anything about me. Well, if they do, then good. If they don't, not bad. I submitted a memo to the court today. My professor is the judge, and she has around 20 would-be-lawyers submitting memos to her on the exact same case. I don't envy her her job. Okay, the throb is going away, but my head is foggy. I'm not sleepy though. And I don't think I'll be sleeping any time soon. The night is young, and there are places to visit and things to do. There'll be time enough for sleep. Besides, it's not like I lack dreams. I dream every night again, just like before, and then there are the dreams outside of sleep and the nightmares there too.

I was supposed to write about two films that I saw last Saturday - "My Terrorist" and "My Land Zion." The director, Yulie Gertsel, answered questions after the film. It was a good overall experience, even if I almost froze to death on the way back home. I'm vaguely tempted to start that piece, but I'm not in an intellectual mood right now, and I don't want to lace that topic with incoherence. But yeah, I'll be writing about that, so that's something for my faithful readers, if there any of you out there, to watch out for. That's a gratuitous promise you can't enforce, because there's no consideration. But I'll be keeping it anyway, I think. As of now, that's the plan.

This is fantastic. I am such an expert at wasting time.