08 June 2009, Monday

Writing to one of my professors from my undergraduate college is something that I have avoided, and now, having written them, I know why. Agonizing. I suppose because these professors believe so much in me and I feel like I have let them down somehow. Although I'm sure they do not think that. They are smart (as they should be if they are teaching impressionable minds) and know that life is unpredictable.

I cleaned my room today. Dust vanquished from the walls entirely. Usually I just ignore the dust-- where I cannot reach it. Yes -- out of side, out of mind. No more of that for me. I need to start seeing things, even if they are a bit far away.

I'm a bit of an existentialist, so I don't believe in the pre-ordained. Although I am susceptible to stories that feature "soul mates" and destiny. "Jane Eyre"'s my favourite novel. But as for my personal life -- if I do tease myself with it, it always ends with mine thinking that it is not true. This leaves me, trying to figure out what my "destiny" -- "purpose" -- of my life is, in not a great mental place. We create our own destiny, the existentialist states, but this destiny is dependent on external circumstances that create barriers.

Like ones family.

My father watched "Casino Royale' for the first time last night. It was on USA. He doesn't own a DVD player; we don't have one in the living room. The idea of either of my parents buying/renting a DVD and watching it is absurd. My brother put my DVD player in my mum's room while I was in London. She watched one film on it. / My father loves James Bond films. Every Thanksgiving as a child we watched the marathon. I came home from the store, having gone to Giant Eagle with mother, with him bounding through the hall having just watched the long chase sequence that begins the film, beaming and yelling (mostly because he's 75% deaf) that -- "Daniel Craig is the best James Bond yet. I can't believe the beginning; they're just running everywhere. I can't believe this. I can't wait to see the rest," to which I, just as emphatically, jump up and down to tell him that I am so excited he has finally been able to see it. To which he goes to the toilet to emerge 20 minutes later, and I have to explain why Daniel Craig is on a caribbean island in shorty-shorts with a lady clothed in a bikini riding bareback on a horse, while some guy with blood coming out of his left eye wants to beat him at poker.

My father has never seen the train explode in "Lawrence of Arabia"; he's watched the film a dozen times. It's his wiring that he cannot sit through a movie -- and even when there are commercials, he must get up and do something while the film is progressing. Maybe somehow connected to his never eating food while it is hot -- making it, and then leaving it to sit out -- while reading the mail in the morning for instance -- consuming it only at room temperature.