Thank goodness it’s a movie, I’ve always been one to believe the longer you are able to spend with a work of art the more it has to teach you. This is why I prefer literature and cinematography over painting and sculpting. Architecture can go play with itself because at the moment I can’t think where to classify it in my simplistic rhetorique of how long an art form has with you.

Enough suspense already, It is called “The Truman Show”, and it’s a satirical psychological drama starring Jim Carrey quite a while before everyone began huffing their lungs out about how good Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind is.

I feel a little like I’m in that movie sometimes, when I predict the actions and fluid motions of a person I don’t know to the grainy final detail. That day I was sitting in one of those lines of cars that aren’t moving despite a green light because there isn’t anywhere to go. A tiny girl was behind me in an Acura SUV. She had light brownish hair, perfectly round big eyes, and a gorgeously minimal curve on her perfect model of a nose. She was messing with something in her lap and I had an arm of length between me and the car in front of me so I let go of the break slightly while looking in the rear-view mirror. I knew she would look up. I got straight contact with those eyes for something like half a second. Focusing back on the road, I smirked. I just like messing with you beautiful, I said under my breath.

This sums me up in an instance. Not; that I like messing with people, but that society’s patterns and the definitive predictable actions of individuals fascinate me.

They were the best people I knew. Nice, sophisticated, polite, never out of turn, never out of order.

Slowly over the years they’ve died, and I mean the years between 10 and 20.

I’m 20, and some of the nicest people I’ve met between the ages of 10 and now are dead.

I’m left in a world where I have to pick my friends and decide how good they are as people and friends. Whether I’m right later on is to be seen.

Shit it was easier when the people you wanted in your life sifted right in and
the garbage filtered out.

Now I get a heaping helping of both, the choice is mine.

I haven’t the slightest clue if I’m choosing right. Ever.

Most of them are gone, few are left,
and the rest, a somewhat poorly chosen selection so far, is up to me.

Here’s my minimalist review.

Source Code = Too many realities to fully comprehend, perhaps?
Adjustment Bureau = Got a funky 40′s hat? Good you fucking hipster prick, channel that shit, the doors may open correctly.
Memento = A mothafucker will occasionally be fucked by his forgetfulness.. by the chick from the matrix.
Vanilla Sky = Maybe Tom Cruise, despite his odd behavior as a human being is actually a decent actor?

You hear that Warming Glow and FilmDrunk?

P.S Google Warming Glow and FilmDrunk, together, there is no better source for honest TV & Movie editorials.

Everything a small version of what it used to be a couple years ago. I remember so many faces, nice welcoming faces. The days of salad and schooling. I would walk through a crowd and exchange true pleasantries with a good assortment of people. The social aspect of school always did make me the happiest. I still remember those faces, so many of them.

I dont mean to make it sound like I loathe every second of my existence, although I’m sure thats what the reader assumes from pretty much every one of my posts.

The pace is just different. Very slow. Absolutely no one is to blame for this. The people in my life right now are amazing. Every second I spend with them is a cool comradery, because at the very Ieast they help me forget what it’s like to return to this vodka drinking, mandarin chasing, hole in the middle of a county of angels. Or devils, who the fuck knows anymore.

Certain aspect I only dreamed about when I was still in school. I have a pretty stellar chick right now. My lesbian english teacher can kiss me where the good lord split me for using the term “chick”. “They don’t like to be referred to that way”, the supposedly liberal chick commented on one of my essays about what I’de like in my life.

I’m in a diffrent area now too. I had always heard that the valley was a desolate piece of lifeless shit (okay, so I combined a few views into one that I created), but I never imagined that it would lead to virtually total drought in social activity and bring me to possibly the slowest pace of living I have ever felt.

It’s like going on a vacation for eternity, except the vacation feeling never started because the valley just isnt that pleasant. It isnt quiet enough to be considered a vacation and it isnt loud enough to not be. It’s in that finicky fuck me middle ground that makes people cringe when hearing that one of their friends is moving there. Of course the rent is low.

Maybe my reasons are different than society’s for condemning this place, but I’m sure we agree on at least a couple bulletpoints.

There are other places similar I’m sure but none quite like it; no, the very true and unique subtle feeling of the valleys shitstain on a world map begins to set in when you’re here for what I looking back think to be 2 weeks.

One more cigarette, I’m in the valley after-all.

A day like today could be so simple, it could be like the other days in fact. I could wake up; shower, shit and shave in the words of my friend Zepeda and be on my way to doing the things I do everyday. Not exactly a repertoire. The same things but in different order, that’s my loophole to sanity.

Today marks an Armageddon of feelings in my yearly calendar. Not my own. But other peoples towards me. Mostly pity. In their voice. On the telephone.

Instead of going about my business like I usually do, I will constantly be interrupted by people calling and asking how I am. People that never call otherwise during the year. Like they are counting on me to be depressed. Maybe even making bets on just how many depress-minded words I use during our exchange. I’m kidding of course, I just find the entire thing funny, and also a waste of everyone’s time.

Completely surprising then that on a day like today, at the end of a night when I’m offered multiple drinks and told happy-go-lucky drunk stories, I will turn down every one of the drinks.

It would only depress me more. I’d end up in my bathroom singing some tune in my boxers, imagining what could have been different those few years back. Not wishing for it, just imagining the possibilities.

Sometimes the bad hits you, and sometimes the good hits you.

And when i say "hits", i mean it really hits you, like multiple tiny punches at your mind, heart or body, depending on what part your bothered or pleased at.

But your never permanently and consistently hit by good from a point forward. 

Our biology or psychology, no matter what you’ll attribute it to, will always find something that could be
better. Maybe that’s what makes us people. The fact that dogs and cats and every other animal
is happy just doing what they do, but we want more, we want a different better thing
no matter how frequent the good hits that come with this current thing are.

Who, or what, fucking knows. Or ever will know for that matter.