I'm giving myself 12 minutes, not that it matters
A movie. Laying in bed, the world on the screen opening up my mind. I see what she sees and I see what they want me to see. Two worlds; one real and one a metaphor for an awakening. Or is it the other way around? The silly synopsis on the envelope leaving so much out and adding so little. I watch, as one of the most beautiful women on the planet looks like anyone else I've ever seen naked. A feat almost as incredible as the film's impact. It ends. I gather myself and 19 hours later I'm still thinking of it. I'm thinking about how it makes me feel and then it makes me realize something unrelated to the film. I have two people in my life I can discuss it with. That is all. Friends don't watch movie like I do. Not only the types, but the way I do. I want to be entertained, but I want more. I want to dive into the heads of the creators. Always watching, learning. Human nature is as odd as anything you'll see. A giant bowl, containing but a bite or three of food. The cabinets opened, the wrap pulled, carefully sealed. The condensation drips over time. The food slowly quickly losing its flavor and texture. I stare at it. Take the three bites and wash the bowl. Four to five times bigger than needed. I wipe away the grit and then rinse. Twelve seconds of my life has elapsed and another six as a I giggle, knowing fully, that minutes were spent, in preparation of this flash of time. Minutes spent, all so one doesn't have to wash a dish. I stare at the fridge, huge containers, holding nibbles. All to avoid the water and soap. It's a comical moment I experience daily. It's the afraid child walking the long way to school, all to avoid the bully who isn't there, but is waiting for him at the other side. I have done my social experiments, leaving one last bite in these giant containers. Weeks go by and the colors change, but the content and the needed result doesn't. Finally, I cave and in less time than it took me to think about doing it, it's gone. If there's a reverse to OCD, I see it every day. Imagine doing everything over and over to purposely be counterproductive. To purposely waste time as to justify the hours in the day. Never changing from a mundane routine that sees daylight lost, for the sake of keeping a schedule. A schedule that accomplishes nothing but precise ticks of a clock. It ranks up there with the small talk. I'll do this, but never do it. Why then tell someone? Another movie, this one to clear the mind. Small bikinis and even tinier interest. I fall asleep, dreaming of the horrors of reality. What is reality? Repeating the same thing over and over? Is that why we are born? I look at the bottle and think, "it's been three weeks." It's never been a problem for me, much to other's dismay. Two friends have kept my laughter going throughout this time. I glance at the clock and realize this is probably the slowest I've written anything in a while. Usually the thoughts gush out, but maybe it's because of the snow or the full moon. Let's blame all our problems on the nature. It's much more simple than gazing in the mirror, like the alien does, admiring her new "clothes."
A movie. Laying in bed, the world on the screen opening up my mind. I see what she sees and I see what they want me to see. Two worlds; one real and one a metaphor for an awakening. Or is it the other way around? The silly synopsis on the envelope leaving so much out and adding so little. I watch, as one of the most beautiful women on the planet looks like anyone else I've ever seen naked. A feat almost as incredible as the film's impact. It ends. I gather myself and 19 hours later I'm still thinking of it. I'm thinking about how it makes me feel and then it makes me realize something unrelated to the film. I have two people in my life I can discuss it with. That is all. Friends don't watch movie like I do. Not only the types, but the way I do. I want to be entertained, but I want more. I want to dive into the heads of the creators. Always watching, learning. Human nature is as odd as anything you'll see. A giant bowl, containing but a bite or three of food. The cabinets opened, the wrap pulled, carefully sealed. The condensation drips over time. The food slowly quickly losing its flavor and texture. I stare at it. Take the three bites and wash the bowl. Four to five times bigger than needed. I wipe away the grit and then rinse. Twelve seconds of my life has elapsed and another six as a I giggle, knowing fully, that minutes were spent, in preparation of this flash of time. Minutes spent, all so one doesn't have to wash a dish. I stare at the fridge, huge containers, holding nibbles. All to avoid the water and soap. It's a comical moment I experience daily. It's the afraid child walking the long way to school, all to avoid the bully who isn't there, but is waiting for him at the other side. I have done my social experiments, leaving one last bite in these giant containers. Weeks go by and the colors change, but the content and the needed result doesn't. Finally, I cave and in less time than it took me to think about doing it, it's gone. If there's a reverse to OCD, I see it every day. Imagine doing everything over and over to purposely be counterproductive. To purposely waste time as to justify the hours in the day. Never changing from a mundane routine that sees daylight lost, for the sake of keeping a schedule. A schedule that accomplishes nothing but precise ticks of a clock. It ranks up there with the small talk. I'll do this, but never do it. Why then tell someone? Another movie, this one to clear the mind. Small bikinis and even tinier interest. I fall asleep, dreaming of the horrors of reality. What is reality? Repeating the same thing over and over? Is that why we are born? I look at the bottle and think, "it's been three weeks." It's never been a problem for me, much to other's dismay. Two friends have kept my laughter going throughout this time. I glance at the clock and realize this is probably the slowest I've written anything in a while. Usually the thoughts gush out, but maybe it's because of the snow or the full moon. Let's blame all our problems on the nature. It's much more simple than gazing in the mirror, like the alien does, admiring her new "clothes."
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