Film

Finally got that phone call from Savannah (I have been pestering her since last Thursday)!  Yeah, it was a brief 20 minutes; I wished we could talk more.  Cabin fever is setting in at an alarming rate.

I managed to agree, although only in principle, to offload almost everything in the living room to a couple of newcomer grad students: my office chair, study lamp, winter gloves, standing lamp, bean bag, couch, and even the coffee table.  I was gutted to know that I'm parting ways with all these things, and at such a low price of only $60 for all those things.  Even the TV might go this weekend, so I'll have to get creative with the PS4 afterwards.

But that's not the main reason I wanted to blog today.  I took Jordan's advice and watched Me and Earl and The Dying Girl, which was about the precarious adventure of a teenage boy, his best friend, and his relationship with this girl he barely knew who, you guessed it, was dying.  Without giving away too much of the plot (because you should go watch it), the movie was an emotional journey.

Working in tandem with the uncertainty of teenage life/quarter life crisis/me, the movie shifts back and forth through a melange of emotions: unadulterated joy met with a sudden feeling of dread, which was quickly quelled by the uncanny nature of the characters in the show.  It spoke to me profoundly.  And the final sequence of the show was beautifully done, not due to its aesthetic nature but from the artistic brilliance of how it was revealed.  I could only wish I was that profound in real life.

Actually, I wish I was more profound in my writing as well.  Yes, I have been told by some friends *selfless promotion* that I am an eloquent writer.  However, that's just one aspect of writing that I'm good at.  It is rather odd to know that I have no other writing style to a story, except to evoke my inner Michael Crichton wannabe when I do my writings.  

My style is that I like to describe things and the environment in intricate detail.  I can go on and on about how, for example, an oil on canvas painting may appear to a character, but I can't talk in psychoanalytic babble (good lingo, mind) of how a character feels.  Some people I know write so well, that I just want to sit down with them for an entire day and pick their brains.

So that one day, I can be well-equipped and knowledgeable enough to be an eloquent speaker, too.  I need to know how to say the wisest, most beautiful words to everyone I care about, so that they may spread the wonder of words to others as well.  Hmm... maybe I should have studied journalism...

Book Club - Arkells