Perhaps I'm just a bit peculiar. Perhaps I'm just a bit dim. Perhaps I long for a code of conduct that just disappeared when it comes to the glorious area of art. I am a movie connoisseur, I absolutely adore their story lines, cinematography, and flow. They are the modern world's escape as books have been in the past. Some are crap. Some inspire the imagination and spurn one on to a more pronounced and exciting life. Just like books. We won't use this time to debate which is the better medium (books), but I feel letting out a little rant about the indelicate disposition towards film and the consumerism of the feelings it portrays in this loveable modern world of ours.
Since moving to the UK, I've realized how entirely lucky I am to live in this time. Doctors, planes, music, travel, food, news. It's truly incredible how much is available to us all and instantaneously. But it's a status that's every changing. We have conversations over each other in a group. We disrupt. We generally have no regard for the idea of enjoying one thing at a time. We must have more. And so we have dinner in front of the television, with one person trying to speak and the others only half listening to the concerns, but really paying attention to who's dumped who in Coronation Street. It's truly sad that we value an imagined life more than the wonderful reality that's been given to us, that we cannot appreciate one thing, one conversation, one moment for itself.
But I digress. What has this to do with movies? Well, what we believe in one sector of our lives inevitably rolls over into the others. I believe a film is an invitation to step into another world, to leave your cares and worries behind and see life from a different perspective. It's an opportunity to learn life lessons from those who have lived, to judge literary styles and critique what is true with what is mere romanticism, secularism, or pluralism. It provides an inside look into a culture's gods and taboos--shows us what a culture finds important and what it neglects. It is chance to uproot yourself in your imagination and wander the corners of the created world on the most amazing stories that often only begin to parallel everyday life. Some are absolute rubbish and made for yet another instant high for our throw away culture to consume and forget in seconds. But there are others that are diamonds in the ruff. They are gems worth noting and remembering. Entering into the world created by a movie is almost like being invited into someone's life story, and I believe ought to be treated with the same respect. Now, granted, it is a movie. But if you are going to spend time and energy on something, you ought to throw your entire focus and attention onto it.
Tonight I watched a film with a wonderful family, a film I had been looking forward to see for ages. It was beautifully filmed and the script was incredible. However, the dear people I watched it with demonstrate my point immaculately. Lines were not heard because of constant crunching of crisps; random talks would break out and destroy an important moment.... and they wouldn't stop; the dad came in half way through and turned on the lights. We did not stop the movie, but had to wait for him to put on a lamp--a suprisingly demanding ordeal. He then proceeded to type and play videos, music and speeches over the very ending and dramatic bits of the film--the redemption, death scene and aftermath. I'm not gonna lie. I hate it when people talk and chatter during films. I hate it when they talk while someone is speaking. The absolute disrespect to the speaker and to those that are trying to listen and learn drives me up a wall.
Maybe my goal should be like Wilberforce. Eradicate slavery and reform society. Or maybe I should take a lesson from dear Aretha and push for Respect. Whichever way, something's gotta give and it ain't gonna be anything less than that.
Friday, 22 February 2008
Monday, 11 February 2008
The Forgotten Perks and Annoyances of Discipline
I've always had this sort of romantic notion of waking early in the morn before the sunrise every day. I would wake before dark, then venture on to a walk to hear the birds chirping, sing praises to my saviour, have devotions, return home to journal and breakfast, then off to my daily duties. Every time I see films I have this yearning to wake up early in the morn and begin such a ritual. There is truly nothing like the fresh feeling of morning air as the sun's rays touch the earth for the first time in 12 hours. And I love it once I've experienced it.
Days are so much longer with so much more to be done in them. One can be so much more proactive. But then, when one is so unused to the excess time, you find yourself wondering how a person could actually spend 3 hours in conversation, or 2 in reading, or 2 in housework. You feel yourself stretched. And yearn for there to be much less time so you can actually go to bed. And therefore a new trend starts. The staying up all night and sleeping in til 1. There's something, I can't quite explain what it is, but there is most certainly something about going to sleep late. You can truly never be as refreshed with 8 hours sleep when you go to bed at 3 am as when you do at 9 pm.
And that brings us to another point. When one awakens at 5 in the morning, that person must either be extremely amazing to get through a day without much sleep at all, or they must go to bed around 8 or 9. In this day and age, how is such a life possible or bearable? One's social life would die in a week.
But, perhaps we could take a lesson from our dear friends, the Spanish. Their social world does not awaken until the late evening, yet they are up with the dawn. How is this possible? Simple. Naps throughout the day. What an incredible concept. And, oh, how it could revolutionize the western world. But, alas, our days are not constructed to withstand such a lifestyle.
In the past few years I have strayed towards the staying up all night and sleeping all day mentality. I'm a night person. I absolutely love the night. And when I wake early in the morning for the sun rise, I'm once more sleepy by 10 or 11. I do not like the amount of work I get done in my current lifestyle. But the mere concept of rising so early literally pains me. What solution does a poor child like me have? I want the night, but also the motion and puritan work ethic of the morning. I want my cake, and damn well would like to eat it too.
What's a girl to do? Well, I'm thinking of moving to Spain. Or, at least importing that culture here.
Days are so much longer with so much more to be done in them. One can be so much more proactive. But then, when one is so unused to the excess time, you find yourself wondering how a person could actually spend 3 hours in conversation, or 2 in reading, or 2 in housework. You feel yourself stretched. And yearn for there to be much less time so you can actually go to bed. And therefore a new trend starts. The staying up all night and sleeping in til 1. There's something, I can't quite explain what it is, but there is most certainly something about going to sleep late. You can truly never be as refreshed with 8 hours sleep when you go to bed at 3 am as when you do at 9 pm.
And that brings us to another point. When one awakens at 5 in the morning, that person must either be extremely amazing to get through a day without much sleep at all, or they must go to bed around 8 or 9. In this day and age, how is such a life possible or bearable? One's social life would die in a week.
But, perhaps we could take a lesson from our dear friends, the Spanish. Their social world does not awaken until the late evening, yet they are up with the dawn. How is this possible? Simple. Naps throughout the day. What an incredible concept. And, oh, how it could revolutionize the western world. But, alas, our days are not constructed to withstand such a lifestyle.
In the past few years I have strayed towards the staying up all night and sleeping all day mentality. I'm a night person. I absolutely love the night. And when I wake early in the morning for the sun rise, I'm once more sleepy by 10 or 11. I do not like the amount of work I get done in my current lifestyle. But the mere concept of rising so early literally pains me. What solution does a poor child like me have? I want the night, but also the motion and puritan work ethic of the morning. I want my cake, and damn well would like to eat it too.
What's a girl to do? Well, I'm thinking of moving to Spain. Or, at least importing that culture here.
Saturday, 9 February 2008
A Brief Retreat
This weekend provides me with the first long weekend and short term vacation of 2008. I don't think I've looked so forward to getting away from it all since I've arrived in the UK. And what am I doing with myself? Well, as plans of retreating to a monastery to run to a few days in the life of contemplation have imploded, I've settled for the next best thing. My Tennessee buddies in Nairn, curry, chick flicks, wireless and all the books I could consume in a month. As much as I longed to get away from American culture, I can't help but feel a touch of comfort in their presence.
It's good to get in touch with your roots once more. Last night I attended a wedding and found comfort in the country music the overly talkative relative dj played. I'm a sentimentalist to the core, and when I'm away from something, I yearn for it. Like, now I yearn for Franklin and friends and American cooking, but when I return home, Scotland and England will call me, and I will wish for it's cold and rainy frontier all the more. The grass is always greener.
But the cool thing about roots is that they can be replanted. A plant can literally be halved and moved to a different place. Though I long for my other half in Franklin, that longing will never be fulfilled, since when I'm in Tennessee I will be longing for my other half that I left in the UK. That's the curse of growing, I suppose.
My kids here have officially adopted me as a daughter of Scotland. I claim that title and shall cling to it. If I can find some Welsh ties, I will be a child of the entire UK. I have found a distinctive love for a man in a kilt. There's honestly nothing quite like it. You may laugh and scorn for the moment, but one day, if you ever get the joy of experiencing this liberating love, you will understand our enthusiasm.
The Scots never cease to amaze me or delight me. In fact, I've become so used to the accent (I can even interpret Glaswegian for you) that every time I hear any English person, they immediately sound posh, whether a Scouser or chav or what. I fall more and more in love with this country every time I return to it. It has a piece of my heart forevermore.
In the next 2 days I plan to spend some much needed time seeking the Lord and clearing away a bunch of garbage and jarble that has broken into the path. It's like I need a white washing, and I'm really looking forward to getting it. I'm learning a lot of life lessons here, and it's definitely time to sit down and process them, take what I've learned and apply it to my plans for the future.
And hopefully watch a bit more rugby while I'm at it.
It's good to get in touch with your roots once more. Last night I attended a wedding and found comfort in the country music the overly talkative relative dj played. I'm a sentimentalist to the core, and when I'm away from something, I yearn for it. Like, now I yearn for Franklin and friends and American cooking, but when I return home, Scotland and England will call me, and I will wish for it's cold and rainy frontier all the more. The grass is always greener.
But the cool thing about roots is that they can be replanted. A plant can literally be halved and moved to a different place. Though I long for my other half in Franklin, that longing will never be fulfilled, since when I'm in Tennessee I will be longing for my other half that I left in the UK. That's the curse of growing, I suppose.
My kids here have officially adopted me as a daughter of Scotland. I claim that title and shall cling to it. If I can find some Welsh ties, I will be a child of the entire UK. I have found a distinctive love for a man in a kilt. There's honestly nothing quite like it. You may laugh and scorn for the moment, but one day, if you ever get the joy of experiencing this liberating love, you will understand our enthusiasm.
The Scots never cease to amaze me or delight me. In fact, I've become so used to the accent (I can even interpret Glaswegian for you) that every time I hear any English person, they immediately sound posh, whether a Scouser or chav or what. I fall more and more in love with this country every time I return to it. It has a piece of my heart forevermore.
In the next 2 days I plan to spend some much needed time seeking the Lord and clearing away a bunch of garbage and jarble that has broken into the path. It's like I need a white washing, and I'm really looking forward to getting it. I'm learning a lot of life lessons here, and it's definitely time to sit down and process them, take what I've learned and apply it to my plans for the future.
And hopefully watch a bit more rugby while I'm at it.
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