January 16, 2012 § Leave a comment
Inspiration, spray paint and a thrilling sense of adventure = powerful education
January 6, 2012 § Leave a comment
Reality. New beginnings. Million dollar grossing weekends. As January moves into its second week I am under House Arrest like in some police drama. The pain round my leg is literal. Plans shot not by an automatic pistol, but genetic malady of some sort, doctors say, so instead of prescheduled live music over draughts with friends at a hip local spot, I watch one of last year’s pre-3D super money-makers–all you can do is stay off-it, medical experts have advised repeatedly about my pain: let it rest. So I let it rest.
The film’s visuals and action sequences are impressive, not original, yet uniquely told and innovative, even after having watched it once before. Not long into the second act I drift and brood over all the other heroes we’ve seen on screen. No legs, blind, mentally challenged, misunderstood by society, cheating spouse and evil parents, the malicious CEO. I replay how often watching others go through hardship only lasts for the usual 90 minutes or, if the film is masterful, all the way home, yet our Suspension of Disbelief almost always makes the possible reality distant, unaffecting, even if it does come back unannounced weeks later.
Not exactly the same as this spontaneously imposed R&R that hasn’t eased since the pre-dawn wake-up call of pain yesterday morning. Not only different, but almost silly when I realize that I’m the actual hero.
Hopefully I’ll remember once I’m feeling better that this happened, will again since my diagnosis is years old, and, unlike in the movies, I cannot suspend its reality because it is reality–my reality.
Writing this I remind myself that living through hardship makes it–strangely–more satisfying. When I juxtapose an actor alongside my real self, my story has just as much meaning, more meaning, actually, as it should. I remind myself that even though the only ones that watch my performance of pain, struggle, and grueling voyages to the restroom with the help of a cane, are my wife and kids, I cannot forget that living is much more exciting than watching a rich stranger pretend for a million dollar studio. Even though the pain is tough to take.
I regret missing the live music the other night, but even enjoying a night out with friends falls second to this, obvious, often ignored, realization. In a masochistic, yet invigorating way, the hope of getting through my unnoticed weekday bomb at the box office makes it worth it, personally profitable. $170 million I’d say.
Much more profitable than some 90 minute overhyped film on a Top Grossing weekend. Don’t you think?
No, me neither.