I’m taking an earlier-than-halftime- break from watching an FX film that, so far, exceeds my expectations. I started watching it because I relate to its title: “I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore.” Yes, I realize that says disturbing things about me, but that’s neither here nor there. I like the writing. I like the acting. I like the premise. I like everything I’ve seen so far. But, during this break, I’ve read more about the film. And now I feel depressed and afraid. That’s the price of strolling around aimlessly in filmdom, I suppose.
While I’m baring my soul, I thought tonight of something else that troubles me. I am as artificial as anyone I can name. I seem to have made myself up. I don’t know who the “real” me is because I’ve always manufactured who I am to fit the circumstance. That’s depressing. Especially so because I wouldn’t know how to recognize the real me if I saw him in the mirror.
I suppose I’ve written about this unhappy predicament before; that’s because it’s an unhappy predicament.
I did buy tomatoes and provolone cheese today, so all is not lost. Not yet. When one can buy tomatoes and consider the future of said tomatoes amidst cubes of that hard, hard cheese, there’s still something to grasp in this life. It may be artificial, it may be meaningless drivel in a pointless world, but it’s something.
Did I tell you, Dear Diary, that we’re having dinner with a gathering of Unitarians (what’s the right term: herd, flock, murder…what?) on Saturday? Well, we are. We’re last-minute fill-ins, chosen because we’re participating in a “dinner for eight” group to start soon. The instructions emphasize “it’s not about the food, it’s about the social interaction.” That’s the hardest part for me. I want it to be about how a vibrant appreciation for food can build social interactions. Well, that’s for another time.
If you’re reading this, you are among the privileged few. And I appreciate your presence. I would appreciate, even more, your comments. Pro, con, argumentative, supportive, upset, or delighted. I truly would.
I suppose I’d better get back to the movie. But if I don’t, they will still be there tomorrow. (But, as Cat Stevens (Yusuf Islam) said, “for you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not.”)
How do we train bigots to change their attitudes? I don’t know it’s possible. That’s why I haven’ t ruled out mercy killings.
