Tuesday, September 16, 2003
Cheaper Than Therapy: Fight Club and Blog Objectives (revisited)
Oh oh oh! I got a guest who signed my guestbook the other day! My guest told me I'm a self-important, self-centered little bitch! And: if I had something to say, great; if not, then who cares? I heartily agree!
One of my favorite movies in the past couple of years has been "Fight Club". I recently downloaded the screenplay from that script-o-rama site the screenwriter guy told me. A line in that film really stands out for me, something like "Men are told from birth we will rule the world, but instead we become slaves -- to alimony payments and credit cards, chasing dead end jobs to pay for stuff that doesn't matter."
Love it.
BLOGging has really hooked me because, unless you're one of the few people I've told, you do not know me and I do not know you. I use this BLOG to vomit about my life, and yeah, it's all about me, me, me -- and my misery knows no limit. If you knew me, you wouldn't guess this BLOG was about me (thank you Carly Simon) because I'm such a sun-shine-y little coworker who wins Core Corporate Value awards and laughs uproariously with my friends on weekends. And if that's a lie, then you readers will not know otherwise.
No, Luscious Desert won't win the Family Values Award. But what about touted alternatives? Is mainstream living raw? Are you Alive if you live in a house that looks exactly like the house next door or three doors down, with rooms of furniture from Ethan Allan or Cumberland House, a garage chocked with an SUV and a sedan, and a membership at a golf club and a church where you donate $50 (more if you haven't visited in awhile)? Daily visits to Wal-Mart and annual visits to Disney World? Is that Real? As miserable as my life may be, that kind of living is Death. Let us pretend I live that life: I could pretend that my life was ruined decades ago by the Catholic Church and they deserve to pay me millions. Or, perhaps instead, McDonalds should pay for the fact I'm too lazy to get up from my recliner to cook a meal. Maybe I should be in Therapy: A drug to give me a Stepford spirituality to match my smile and expressions of compassion.
Do I have something to say? I don't know. Maybe not: This is, after all, a place where I can spew acid -- better here than at my friends and coworkers. Maybe so: Since I've started a month ago, I've been writing on average about 2 - 3 hours a day. If I were to try and write something for publication, I would want it to have a positive edge -- two people falling in love, a character undergoing positive growth -- and yeah, that's a little lacking so far in these posts. But in order to achieve the desired end, like they say in Alcoholics Anonymous, you need to Hit Bottom first.
Well, enough about me; Let's talk about *you*. What do *you* think about me?
One of my favorite movies in the past couple of years has been "Fight Club". I recently downloaded the screenplay from that script-o-rama site the screenwriter guy told me. A line in that film really stands out for me, something like "Men are told from birth we will rule the world, but instead we become slaves -- to alimony payments and credit cards, chasing dead end jobs to pay for stuff that doesn't matter."
Love it.
BLOGging has really hooked me because, unless you're one of the few people I've told, you do not know me and I do not know you. I use this BLOG to vomit about my life, and yeah, it's all about me, me, me -- and my misery knows no limit. If you knew me, you wouldn't guess this BLOG was about me (thank you Carly Simon) because I'm such a sun-shine-y little coworker who wins Core Corporate Value awards and laughs uproariously with my friends on weekends. And if that's a lie, then you readers will not know otherwise.
No, Luscious Desert won't win the Family Values Award. But what about touted alternatives? Is mainstream living raw? Are you Alive if you live in a house that looks exactly like the house next door or three doors down, with rooms of furniture from Ethan Allan or Cumberland House, a garage chocked with an SUV and a sedan, and a membership at a golf club and a church where you donate $50 (more if you haven't visited in awhile)? Daily visits to Wal-Mart and annual visits to Disney World? Is that Real? As miserable as my life may be, that kind of living is Death. Let us pretend I live that life: I could pretend that my life was ruined decades ago by the Catholic Church and they deserve to pay me millions. Or, perhaps instead, McDonalds should pay for the fact I'm too lazy to get up from my recliner to cook a meal. Maybe I should be in Therapy: A drug to give me a Stepford spirituality to match my smile and expressions of compassion.
Do I have something to say? I don't know. Maybe not: This is, after all, a place where I can spew acid -- better here than at my friends and coworkers. Maybe so: Since I've started a month ago, I've been writing on average about 2 - 3 hours a day. If I were to try and write something for publication, I would want it to have a positive edge -- two people falling in love, a character undergoing positive growth -- and yeah, that's a little lacking so far in these posts. But in order to achieve the desired end, like they say in Alcoholics Anonymous, you need to Hit Bottom first.
Well, enough about me; Let's talk about *you*. What do *you* think about me?