There's this odd thing where I get tired of infatuation. I totally just reached that point. Or I think I have; there's something a little sickening about infatuation that lasts, and I don't mean being in love, I mean that crazy obsessive/intense feeling...maybe not everyone obsesses like I do, but I'm certain some people do. Sometimes it can last for ages, sometimes it lasts for an hour, but it's so wonderful when it's gone and you realise that hey, there's this awesome person, and suddenly they're a person again, as opposed to, well, an object, I suppose, although I don't typically obsess over people who I don't like in the first place....but I think it really is objectifying nonetheless, as much as I dislike the idea.
I have so so many plants, I just finished a supper that my mom might have cooked, and there's banana bread in the oven and chamber music in my ears; how much better does it get? I listened to the news on the radio today (cbc), and it shocked me to hear how they talked about the "war on terror." So intensely weird and the spin felt like nails on a chalkboard. The way they stated that the object of the mission was to 'wipe out taliban influences" what does that even mean? Listing numbers of canadian troops, quoting a US official saying that canada is a "breeding ground for terror" and how the government has sent a special delegation to convince the US that we're not. Fuck. It turns my stomach and makes me feel helpless; unacceptable, but I have no ideas other than the scream of 'just stay out of it' ick.
Funny how assignments that are simple to a stupid degree never seem to get started...I should really write out that stupid journal thing.
Bojan, the TA for my film class, who unexplainably became our prof halfway through, showed us his film Immigrant on wednesday. He used absolutely no music (in the clip he showed us, anway), prefering to use gritty location sound - the only time he used obviously non-diagetic sound was when the main character has a dream - the camera moves through a massive graveyard in the daytime, sounds of gunfire and a low roaring take over and continue even after he wakes up. It cuts to him walking down the street, he sees flashes behind a building, the gunfire sound becomes louder and he joins the crowd walking towards the light and sound until he finally gets to the shore and sees the fireworks.
I felt at first that the sound was odd and not quite right, but the feeling of alienation that flowed from the film in the short bit he showed us was incredible. As the character walks along with the crowd that he is not a part of, as he looks up at the coloured lights and cries.....there was a mini documentary-like part in the middle with his (Bojan's) grandparents; they pulled out saved bits of shrapnel that had stories: this one had hit the board beside where his parents had slept in the hallway, that one had come through the window, this one the kitchen - there was so much more, these are just the ones we saved...
I wish we could have watched the entire film. He didn't say anything afterwards, waving our clapping aside and moving to the next student film. I imagine putting something like that onto film, something so incredibly close to you; that takes guts.
The thing with being dissatisfied with human interaction, at this moment, or through history, is that it's an individual thing, no matter how many masses surround you, they are choosing, as individuals, to be a part of that mass, and it's your choice, too. I don't think we have an excuse, here, in Vancouver, at least, for being dissatisfied because it is so possible to simply put in that bit of effort, raise your eyes and talk to someone. They'll probably get off at the next bus stop or make an excuse to walk the other way, but there's no way every single one will. haha. now I sound like a mellow Mr. V.
Fricking book's going to eat me alive.
