The interesting thing about us as human beings is our ability to remember the most illogical things. It's almost as if we are all forgetting the things we meant to remember and vice versa. For example; I remember this one winter evening. At the time, I was working for a sub-run movie theatre in Naperville that had a "sister" theatre a couple of towns over. It was snowing very hard so I decided to take the train to work (quite simple actually). I walked to the train station and watched the snow fall. There was a light that shone over all three tracks and over the area in general. I watched the snow fall through the space defined by the light. Or did I watch the light get defined by the snow? Whatever. "You must not find symbols in everything. It makes life impossible." Oscar Wilde. Anyway. The snow silently fell to the ground and muffled everything. It was a rush hour and I should have been able to hear the rush of the cars a couple of streets over, but I couldn't. I looked at the people inside the train station and realized that they couldn't enjoy the simplicity of utter silence when snow falls. Oh well. More white gold for me.
Where am I right now? There are so many answers to that question. I'm physically in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I'm in my dorm room with my three roommates (and their various friends whose names I haven't bothered to learn) and wishing that they weren't there. I'm mentally in a state of disarray. Over the past week I have seen my dreams disappear and I'm still here (Sondheim, eat your heart out). I dreamed that I would be an architect whose buildings or renovations would be able to change people's lives and how they looked at things and how we looked at buildings. How absurd. Our society is so relentlessly screwed up that the only way a building would change them depends on what can be sold in the building.
I'm emotionally stable. I think. I mean I really have no reason to do anything rash (never have, never will, most likely). Besides being clinically depressed (probably) I'm fine. The world is going down the toilet and I'm just kind of watching it.
I worked in a movie theater for a little over two years. Not just a movie theater; a sub-run theater. And there is a difference. Admission was a whopping two bucks and the concessions were the same price as most regular theaters. Unfortunately, the customers were horrible. They expect utter perfection. They also expect that this thirty year old theater should be impeccable clean, tidy, and perfect. Even though we were thirty years old, they were surprised that we didn't have stadium seating. And the parents! They were the worst. If you ever want an example of how parenting has fallen apart in this day and age; go to a movie theater showing a kid's film. Kids will whine and cry and bitch and moan to get what they want. In yesteryear they wouldn't have even been paid attention to. Now their every whim is acted upon. If Junior wants a popcorn, he's got it; if he wants a drink, he's got it; if he wants a candy that's too expensive, he's got it. He's got everything and most likely, after finished with them, will leave his empties in the theater. He won't even clean up after himself. Don't act surprised. Mommy and Daddy left their food (smuggled illegally in from a neighboring restaurant) in the theater as well. Who the hell did ya think the kid learned his manners from?
Manners. I remember those. Manners are those things that my parents taught me that have gotten me nowhere and cost me my pride and happiness time and time again. Oh well. At least I was polite while losing it.
You know I guess that you could dismiss this essay (is that even what it is?) as one man's rantings. But I'm not ranting; I'm not even that mad. I just have so much to say about my character and me as a person that it needs to be said now. While I'm still in a state of mental anguish (see above) it needs to be said.
Oct. 9, 2002: It's funny. You look back on what you've written exactly one week ago and it feels like ten years. How very odd. So now instead of architecture being the future, teaching history is. Hmm..... Actually when you think about it, it makes a hell of a lot of sense. Those who don't learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat them. The question is did I learn from this architecture fiasco.
And of course the answer is no. Damnit.
That's the horrible thing about being a good actor, which I am (hello, egotism). Really, though; the horrible thing is that you don't know when you're acting. When I react to something; am I doing it out of my actual reaction? The reaction people expect out of me? A reaction I think would be fun? It's so easy to fool yourself without really realizing it. Think about it. I assured myself that I was straight for 14 years, bisexual for 2 years, and gay for the last 2. I knew being an architect was the answer for the last 10 years. I have made all these important decisions about the future of my life and then completely went back and remade them. It's impressive., really. The power of the mind is colossal.
I'm listening to the score from Driving Miss Daisy right now. It's beautiful and even though it's obvious most of it was done with synthesizers; it sounds more real than actual stringed instruments (figure that one out). I love this movie. It's so deceptively simple. All it is is the story of two people who need and rely on each other to survive for thirty years. At the end, no one dies. Morgan Freeman simply helps Jessica Tandy eat some pie and they smile at each other. It's beautiful. All friendships should end like that. I always cry when the credits begin to roll. What other movies do I do that with?
Time for a list: Titanic (I know, I know), Fried Green Tomatoes, Steel Magnolias, It's A Wonderful Life, Life Is Beautiful (I fall apart when the kid screams, "Mama!"), Raising Arizona (I don't know why exactly; something about the fact that he dreams of his future family; something I'll never have, I guess), The Truman Show, Moulin Rouge, The Royal Tenenbaums (the last three the first time I saw them, only). Hmm. A long list. I get very emotionally wrapped up in these pieces of art. It's so much easier than getting involved in actual relationships.
It is, too. I'm not making that up.
That (the fact that I get involved in fake things) basically describes the first 15 years of my life. Very sheltered, very loved, very independent, and very happy. I never invited anyone to my house and I never wanted to. When I first got a camera, I only took pictures of things, not people. It didn't occur to me that I might actually make solid relationships with people (outside of my family, of course). It probably had something to do with my grandmother's untimely death when I was 7, but I don't have enough time to delve into that psychologically. I guess it could be said that the "gayer" I became, the more attached to people I was. Thank God. I can't imagine how lonely I would be right now if all I had were buildings.
Nov. 2, 2002: Ya know, I made the promise to myself that I would write in this "journal" more often. Of course, looking at the previous entry, you can tell that I've really kept that promise to myself. Had an epiphany last night. Of course, you can't really call it an epiphany if everyone's been telling you that you should do it from the start.
Long story short, I met a great guy over the internet. I saw him for the second time last night and I enjoyed being with him. I would have loved to stay at his university that night and just fell asleep with him. No sex; I just wanted to curl up with him. It would have been so comforting. He's so nice and sweet and just affable. And he likes me! That's the best part of the whole deal. Anyway . . . the epiphany . . . I came home round midnight and talked to him over IM and we both admitted to each other that we really liked the other and it made me sad that I didn't stay there with him that night. Then I realized that I should just take the joy and happiness where I can get it. I have someone who wants to be with me more and vice versa. That's wonderful. Be happy for yourself, ya bastard! I mean. It's still true that culture is going to hell and most people are selfish assholes and such, but take the good stuff when and where you can get it. Everyone's always told me that, but then was the first time I really believed it.
Speaking of selfishness; there's nothing wrong with it. The most important person in the world is yourself. The secret is to care about other people and their well-being as well. I will always put myself on the line to help other people, but I'm not going to be outwardly "humbler than thou" while doing it. Let me explain it in crappy math terms. I care about myself 10% of the time. I also have 18 other people who I will stop what I'm doing for and help them. Therefore, on average, I care for them 5% of the time. So, yes, I care about myself the most, but I'm only doing it 10% of the time. Make sense? Good.
Where are we all going? I have no idea.
Nov. 11, 2002: My three roommates have all decided that they should enter the illegal world of fake IDs because it would be, "so fuckin' easy". Isn't that great? As Glen just said, "Technology is amazing." All the info that they're getting about making the fake IDs is from the internet. They're all so excited and it's so painfully obvious that they don't realize how horrible it is that they're just going to increase underage drinking and various other vices that are plauging the country. But that's all right. They're going to be rich. I'm so happy for them . . .
And then I realize that nothing matters and that I'm surrounded by assholes. For brief moments you begin sympathizing with people who snap and kill random people. What's the loss?
And then I realize that that's crap. Everyone deserves the right to live. Even if they never should have been born in the first place.
