Morosity

After rewatching FLCL with the director’s commentary (which helped in two ways: rewatching FLCL, and the commentary the director provided), I’ve decided that I really like FLCL. There is some structure behind the craziness, which makes it all the more satisfying.

The director brought up some interesting ideas, too. Such as the division of humanity into two groups: those who would “swing their bat,” and those who would not. I am a member of the latter group, I’m afraid; I would rather strike out not having tested myself—and thus hold out hope that I could hit a home run, if I just applied myself—than swing and risk falling short. I wonder, sometimes, if that’s one of the reasons I wound up at OSU. This aspect of my personality, when combined with my lack of “big dreams” (as my O.B. teammate, Yunho, suggested I should have), are the two most damning reasons why I will never change the world.

Another idea the director noted in his commentary was the idea that “kids who act like kids, and don’t pretend to be adults, are actually more adult.” I measure up better here, I think; I have few pretensions about who I really am. I’m greatly humored that, recently, almost everybody at work has approached Marin and asked her (never me) which of us is the older sibling. I guess I don’t act my age.

Which is ironic, because—in some ways—I could successfully argue that I’m more responsible (and therefore “mature”) than some of my elders in the office.

We picked up a Christmas tree today. I think this is the first time we’ve really done that since Grandpa died (and we consequently got rid of his truck)…it was a much calmer affair this year than it has historically been; we’re all much more mellow about what we really want out of the tree. I suspect that sometimes it’s going through the motions that makes it feel like the holidays.

Not that it feels like Christmas is nine days away. It really doesn’t. And I’ve fallen short on sleep again, so I’ve somewhat (not completely) returned to my more morose, introspective self…not quite a holiday spirit. Hell, I don’t think I’ve really felt that “Christmas spirit” since my freshman year of college. That’s five years, now.

Not coincidentally, that was the last year that we celebrated Christmas the way we always did when I was growing up; Grandpa died (the night before a chemistry midterm) the following February. Cricket, my family’s dog, later passed away….I can’t fully shake the feeling that I’m losing my anchors to the world, nor can I ignore the fear that I won’t be able to make it on my own without those anchors.

Wasn’t I supposed to be feeling invincible about this time in my life?

It doesn’t help the Christmas spirit, either, that the damn media doesn’t know when to quit. I was happy to learn that Saddam had been captured, but I didn’t care for the 48 hours of rehashed news that followed the initial announcement. I like Christmas music as much as the next person, but I don’t need 24 hours of it for the entire month of December, as one local radio station has decided I need. There isn’t that much good Christmas music, so the station had the choice of replaying a few songs a hell of a lot, or playing a lot of crappy songs—and they chose the latter. Ugh.

OK. Enough. I should get some sleep, so that I stop my sullen postings.

 

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