My brother is a an ass. Fact. He lashes out when he's hurt. Fact. He projects. Fact. I hate him.
We give people we love way too much power over ourselves. Enough to sway our emotions and cloud or judgement. Sometimes that can be a good thing. Give us the reflection we need to scrutinize things we aught to fix. A lot of the times though it can be a self destructive mess. My brother plants bombs and doesn't even realize it half the time. When they explode they can be devastating, but most the time they feel like snipper shots to my self esteem. Really well placed shots from a man shooting blind. Or maybe at himself. I don't know. He used to be on this path going nowhere and now he's somewhere, out the woods but still feeling like something's missing.
Sometimes I look at him and all he has and where he can go and can't help but feel envious. But maybe I shouldn't. Because even though it looks like he has a lot he still winds up back home, a place he vowed never to return to; like he's searching for something. Like he's missing a key ingredient to his happiness. Maybe that's why he keeps trying to show my dad all these things they have in common: a love of guns, sports, and hatred of humanity. My brother was never like that. Well, yes he has always had a love of guns, sports, and an inability to tolerate stupid people for any span of time, but this quest with my dad…it's never ending. I thought he gave up long ago.
Anyway he says things. Hurtful things and he doesn't even know it. Things like "I'll take care of her after your gone." Things like "she has no fire." Didn't seem like it was all that long ago when he didn't have any fire either. Maybe he still doesn't. He got his lottery draw and it seems to be fixing most of his problems. I can't help but wonder if it's fixed the ones that really matter. Who knows. I'm still wandering my dark and spooky forest but maybe it's like he says, I enjoy it just a little too much. And that's what hurts.
So I went to see Catching Fire today. Figured what with it being my day off and all, plus this free movie pass, why not? Besides, I really like going to the movies by myself. Never have to worry about the other person talking, breathing loudly, or smacking on their popcorn or gum. Worse is when they insist we sit in the aisle instead of the handicapped.
'Giggilymesh, we can't sit there. What if some veteran wants it?'
So? He can ask us to move. No big deal.
'Why do you want to sit there anyway?'
Uh...I don't know maybe because they're the best seats in the house!!
Seriously, think about it. Unlimited leg room, easy access to the bathroom, perfect angle in which to watch the movie, and best of all nobody can block your view. Ever. It's the best. Also it's great because I have a slight problem with twitching. It's not uncontrollable or anything it's just I like to move my legs. A lot. Cross, uncross them, sit on them, fold them to the side, drape them over the arm chair. You name it.
But the movie is 2 hours and 26 minutes and my bladder is the size of a walnut.
So there I am bouncing up and down in my seat like jack rabbit on speed, tapping my foot, because good grief there is a beach scene, and a giant wave crashing, not to mention the only clean water trickles from a spout. My biology was not programmed to take such abuse. So after tracking down the bathroom (clear on the other side of the fecking theater), it occurs to me: in the olden days of Hollywood cinema there were these wonderful--nay glorious!--things called intermission.
What the fuck happened to those?
Titanic could have used one of those.
So could Saving Private Ryan, The Dark Knight, Lord of the Rings etc. Clearly there is a market for this!
I mean this is not a new concept. India uses this in Bollywood films all the time. You take a break, stretch your legs, get something to eat, talk about what you think is going to happen, leave if you think it's shit, stay if you think it's great, check your phone, do a dance, and (oh yes) go to the bathroom!!
If not this, then theaters either need to keep the men and women's washrooms together or build more than one of each if they're separate so I don't have to go marching clear across the lobby to to the loo muttering vulgarities under my breath while a portrait of Humphrey Bogart looks down in what I can only hope is pride rather than contempt (for whom, I can only assume is major Strasser). Either way potty emergencies should not hamper a movie going experience. Especially if your feature film is over two and a half hours long.
Why do gay men get all the good ones?
Oh well. Maybe next time.
My butt is so warm *snuggle**snuggle**snuggle*
All I need is alcohol and the circle of food groups is complete.