I’ve been staring at this screen so much this week, writing writing writing, squeezing words out of my brain to fill a word requirement. This week some phantom assignments sprang out of nowhere—I take classes over the internet, and I must have missed an email at some point—with suddenly close deadlines.
Freaked out, I got my first extension of my life, and now everything has to be in by the 15th of March. So my writing capabilities have started to go numb. But I coped! I didn’t even go into crisis mode, which historically has meant a stressed-out version of myself who doesn’t eat and is wracked with fatigue. This time, I just got on with it. I am actually letting myself be proud of myself, too, which is something.
After I had posted two assignments (out of four) on Friday, I went on the loveliest walk. The sun was starting to go down, so everything was beginning to look washed out. The moon was rising, car lights were streaming down the roads and crocuses budding in the park.
In the evening I watched Wendy and Lucy, which significantly improved my weekend. Have you seen this movie? You should! Michelle Williams plays a gal who has nothing but a car and her dog, and is searching for work. The movie is slow and poetic and lyrical, and it just hit me.
I suppose the film is too slow by some people’s standards, and maybe some people think it’s pointless. My favourite films tend to be those with a lot of nature and snapshots of beauty that jibe with the way I see the world. (On the IMDb boards there is always someone describing my favourite films as boring [e.g., this thread].) It’s so hard to describe how you see the world, and so strange when you realize that other people’s brains work completely differently from yours. That’s probably why when a film or a book or a piece of music speaks to you, it’s such a powerful feeling.
I cried at the end of Wendy and Lucy. It wasn’t only because it looked pretty, but because of how much emotion its images held (then again it involved a dog, and films with animals knock me sideways every time). My emotions correlate with my own surroundings; I think our environments always reflect our feelings. Our humanity is linked with where we are and what things look like. And when it comes down to it, how much we like what we see.
Then Saturday I spent the day with my dearest friend, Claire. We watched the three-hour-long, action-packed Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, and we agreed it seemed much much shorter. I love LOTR. I love the campiness and the drama and the comradeship and the emotion that is pushed in your face. Obvious emotion also makes my heart swell (when done well). And you know what? I’ve may have teared up at the end of the third film in that series. ♦