RAMBLINGS, OBSERVATIONS, AND MISTRANSLATIONS

~august 5, 1998~

hey, it's august. it feels like august in seatown this year, as we've finally broken into the pool house el niño locked up way back in april. he was trying to keep us out, but we are nothing as sambarumba seattleites if we are not spirited. i keep trying to explain this to the brazilian, but he spanks me anyway, apparently south american women don't say fuck or tell him to shut up when he's being an asshole. i knew catholicism was good for something. i take comfort in the fact that we all can't be demure. where's the fucking excitement in that?!?

my new bed was delivered today and the brazilian and i have been jumping up and down and wrestling on it. it totally swanks. he is now lying in the middle of it, taking up as much space as possible, claiming that "this is the way the bed is supposed to be slept on!!" i think he has some issues to work out involving his place on the foodchain.

speaking of the foodchain, i was having a rather interesting conversation with a pallie o' mine concerning the anthropocentric assurance that everything we do is riddled with. i told him how i once read that every book ever written is written about people, no matter what the surface subject may be. even if the topic is rats, it is still written from a human being's point of view, their brand of thought and body of knowledge, and is shaded with the overriding feel of being human, i.e. how the rat's behavior applies to us, how we interpret their behavior, what definitions and meanings we attribute to their history and response, etc. i love this, though, because it almost assures that my addlebrained self can understand and assimilate even the most far removed of ideas because, at root, it must be associable to humanity, right?

right. so here's something that rocked me out of my boots. i saw saving private ryan last night under the direction of three very reliable sources, and it was pretty darn good, for hollywood. i will say that there were a few silly bits, but what kicked my ass were two death scenes which had my ovaries aching, and one of these scenes haunts me still. so, i must hand it to mr. spielberg, he can definitely spin me up. in a movie filled with death and murder and war and gore, the two deaths that stood out were the quiet, intense ones. i think that maybe this calls back to my intrinsic uncomfortableness with raw emotion, and seeing such profound portrayals of those quiet, unbelievable moments before death made me flip my lid. they have been shadowing me all day and i couldn't help but run them again and again through my mind as i sat in the dentist's chair, noodled on the piano in class, or sat at a left-turn stoplight.....it was rather disturbing, but i like that. i am uncomfortable with my fear of raw emotion, i wish i was more willing to get really intense, to actually submerse myself in deeper soul transactions. but as damit amit and i were discussing on monday, you take what you can get, right? hell fucking yeah i'd love to be in a committed, serious, deep relationship, but alla that takes work and when you're presented with only moderately interested/ing choices, it's easier to go for the cheesecake. i'm not sure if it's a fear of getting hurt, i doubt it's something as clichè as that.....or i'd like to think that the reason i've not experienced those levels of emotion is because i've not been introduced to them......i'd like to think it isn't time yet. everything happens for a reason, yadda, yadda, yadda.

but having the brazilian around has been extremely refreshing. for all his peculiarities, i must say i appreciate his company, however fleeting or seemingly one dimensional. if it was easy, it wouldn't be life, right?

um, right.