what makes the energizer bunny keep going.
The quote of the day:
The audience liked the movie a lot more than I did -- I thought it was slow... almost... interminable... with lots... of... soft focus... of... Brad... and... every... conversation... takes 3... times... as long... as it... should.
You get the idea.
Hopkins is very good. The supporting cast is very good. The screenwriters, however, should have been encouraged to cut their darlings (which you can spot because they show up 2 or more times). The director should be taken out and reminded that the audience may not always be as in love with the shot as he was.
Running news:
Ran 4.1 miles in 40 minutes yesterday. I kept at the heart rate of 160, like Rob advised, and the run went much better than many other recent runs. And I get the advantage of thinking I'm going slowly and easily.
No running today.
And you know what? I totally understand, with or without explanation. I hope they're both okay, but I don't need--nor, by the way, do I deserve--to know any more than they've decided to share.
I've thought about quitting on and off since beginning this diary, and lately I've been thinking about it a lot more than usual.
(The following, by the way, is not a plea for anyone to tell me why I should or shouldn't continue the journal. One of the benefits--or drawbacks, depending on how you look at it--of being introspective is that you know damn well when you're trying to elicit compliments. This is not one of those times. I am not taking a vote. I am talking.)
I found Kim's farewell letter really touching. More than touching. Gripping. A nod and "You too?" Not everything--that is her life, not mine. But more than a few of the sentiments she expressed.
For example, this is not an honest journal. I don't think I've been very circumspect about that. There's a definite demarcation between what I'm willing to tell you and what I'm not. It's not that I can't talk about these things--I just don't want to talk about them with everybody. There are a few things going on that my close friends know about but the general public doesn't--nothing salacious, thanks; just private. And I've realized that I don't want most people to know, for a variety of reasons.
Because the person who writes this journal is not me. She has a much better life than I do. She handles things way better than I do. She has more opinions than I do. I laugh whenever I'm described as opinionated, since I know what a milquetoast I really am. How careful I am not to upset people in real life. How I cringe when I do.
I don't write about my feelings any more. If I'm depressed, if I'm angry, if I'm excited, I'm feeling those emotions about something or someone, and putting details up here is just going to cause more problems than it's worth.
So I have discussions in private, in e-mail. Not here, where I have to be oblique and you have to read between the lines.
I'm not even sure which is worse: being angry at someone (and causing problems by talking about it here), or being happy about something, because as a culture we are not well-equipped to deal with other people's happiness. It starts off as "Jane sold a screenplay!" and quickly devolves to "You know, Jane isn't really that good a writer." We find ourselves wishing them ill.
As a culture are better equipped to deal with others' misfortunes. The Germans coined a word for it: schadenfreude. I have a pretty good life, and I don't want to talk about the pitfalls in my life because, frankly, I can't deal with the schadenfreude.
I'm not even that interested in gossip any more--I don't want to know about people's undersides any more. It's their life, let them live it. Of course, this completely ignores one flurry of e-mail I've been engaged in recently. So I'm a hypocrite and a liar, in addition to everything else.
When I haven't written recently I haven't even thought about writing. It's not avoidance so much as "out of sight, out of mind." I'm doing other things. I'm trying to be in the moment and experience what's going on around me. And writing these entries takes work. (I was often amazed at the length of Kim's entries. I type pretty darn quickly, and it would still take me a long time to write an entry as long as one of hers.)
I also know if I post an entry I'm going to get yet another letter from the guy who writes me about each and every entry. I feel like telling him to start his own journal, which can consist solely of reactions to my journal. That way, he can get it out of his system and I don't have to be bothered. It's just a little worrisome when I hear from several other people that this guy talks about me all the time with them. Christ, do I need this?
Here's Rule Number One for the well-informed journal reader, okay?
You don't get to know how it turns out.
I'm bummed I can't even send Kim or Sandra a note. But maybe they don't want my notes. My wanting to get in touch is selfish--either to show that I'm really a caring individual, or to find out what happened, or both.
So all I'll say is: Thanks for writing your journal, Kim. Thanks for writing your journal, Sandra. You're both good writers; keep writing somewhere.
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Copyright 1998 Diane Patterson
Send comments and questions to diane@spies.com