2006-12-17 - 1:39 a.m.
Twenty six and living again with my mother. I cling to the again in that sentence; it's a platitude that only helps by showing that I want it to help. That I want something to help.
The vast majority of my life, I've felt like I was participating in an interactive movie. And in any movie, the thing is what the camera is watching, not what's behind it. Even if the film has some person observing and reacting to something off camera, the thing is their reaction, not what they're reacting to. You sense the terror or the beauty or the whatever of the person or thing off camera through their reaction. They control the moment.
Every now and again, though, I feel the weight of the camera, and I know direction is mine to choose. In these times, there's a sense of power, a feeling that as long as choices are made the whole will be beautiful.
This is not one of those times. This movie sucks, and if I had popcorn, I'd throw it.
