(no subject)

The movie The Hours really affected me. Its an amazing film. I saw it once by myself, then I took someone to see it. I'd see it again and again, in fact. It is out on video and DVD now, and as soon as Blockbuster has it on pre-viewed tape (the only way I can afford to buy movies!) I'll probably buy it.

One of the most extraordinary things about this film, I think, is that almost everyone can relate to at least one of the characters. Sometimes someone can relate to all three at the same time. There's aspects of each character that resonates very much in me, sometimes separately and sometimes simultaneously.

I think I relate to Virginia Woolfe because of the results of her artistic vision. Meaning, that pervading sense of being overwhelmed by your own mind, and trapped by certain conventions. She knows that living the bohemian life in London will drive her mad, but she also knows that living the dull, unimaginative life in the suburbs would drive her equally as mad; there was no splitting the difference, and in the end she preferred the madness of city life to the madness of suburban life.

I relate to Clarissa Vaughan because I know there are times that I live too much in the past, questioning my happiness and not realizing that, in many ways, I actually possess everything in the world I'll ever need in order to be happy. Yes, I think it is entirely possible to be excruciatingly happy and not be aware of it.

Today I relate most to Laura Brown, the 1950's housewife who feels trapped by that which was promised to make her the happiest- husband, family, house, and a chocolate cake. But she realizes that someone else's version of happiness is not what is happiness to her, that how other people see her- even people who love her- is not who she truly is. Towards the end of the movie she explains that one day she "got up, made breakfast, and got on a bus" and never looked back.

Sometimes I feel equally as trapped. But I'm not sure by what. By the choices I have made? By the way other people have me categorized? By the way I don't craft my own actions? I have no idea.

When I was in high school, I took the train downtown Chicago every Saturday morning for youth symphony rehearsals. I had to catch the 7:15 train in order to be at rehearsal by nine, and if I was lucky, I got the 12:40 train out to be home by 1:30. Some Saturdays I had to be in Oak Park after rehearsal for studio class and stuff, so those days I wouldn't be expected home until after 5:00. There were days that I'd be on the train and think of how easy it would be, when I got downtown, to simply walk across the street to Union Station, buy an Amtrak ticket, and just leave. By the time I didn't get off my train in Wheaton, I could be hours and miles away.

The scary thing is, I've been thinking about that again- how easy it would be to just pack a bag or two, grab my viola and just..... go. Somewhere. Somewhere but here. Fast.


I almost felt compelled to apologize for this post, even before I wrote it. I know some people are sick of hearing about the drama and angst in my life. But I have no ulterior motive in writing what I have, and it is not intended to be pointed or angry or accusatory to anyone. It is simply what is on my mind. So I'm not apologizing for anything. I'm just writing.

What I did on my Summer Vacation

So.

This afternoon....

No,no,no, let me rewind a little. We need some background.

Well, we finally got the car back with its brand-new clutch on Monday. Monday it did just peachy, except it seemed to be running rougher than usual. Tuesday morning, it did peachy for the most part, but gave me a slight scare because at one point it acted like it didn't want to start. Which is odd for that car, because it always starts. Even in the deep, dead, cold heart of winter it never takes more than one try to get it started. Then it started running really really rough. Wednesday morning, it didn't want to start again. It took me several tries, and it ran rough all day. In fact, every time I started it, it sputtered a little. So I discussed it with pheret1, and we decided to take it back to the mechanic today (Thursday)to ask him what was going on.

Ok. Back to today.

This morning when I taught at Glenbard East the car was still running rough, but it started fine, both when I left the house and when I left the school after teaching. I was going to take it by the mechanic's in the morning, but I ended up with an extra make-up lesson this morning that made that impossible.

So I get home, planning to shower, et al. Got a call that my first student in Forest Park wouldn't be there, and I knew my second student was on vacation. Hooray! A little extra time! Did some computering, divalibby76 called me and we chatted for awhile. So when I left her, I noticed that the long-awaited paycheck had come in the mail. Relief! I was down to $1.64 in change. So I decide to run to the bank and cash the check, and go by the mechanic's on the way to work.

So I go to Danada to cash the check. Car starts fine.

Go to gas station. Car starts fine.

Go to Cingular store and buy minutes for phone (yes, I have minutes now, but please use them sparingly, I have a feeling I'm going to have to conserve them). Car won't start. Car won't start. *chug* *sputter* Car won't start.

I smell gas, so I think maybe I flooded the gas tank. So I leave it be for a bit. Go to Caribou, get a smoothie. Come back 1/2 hr later.

Car won't start.

Go into used computer parts store and buy a $5 used mouse for my laptop.

Car won't start.

Call Dad. Not home. Call Marta. No answer. Call studio. Cherrie's pissed but there's nothing I can do about it now.

Car won't start. I decide to walk home.

I'm home.

Car isn't.

I have blisters the size of half-dollars, a HUGE ASS headache, and halfway home the heel in my last pair of shoes gives out.

I am not a happy camper.



I'm going to go take a nap. Please don't wake me up until August.