A film is – or should be – more like music than like fiction. It should be a progression of moods and feelings. The theme, what’s behind the emotion, the meaning, all that comes later.
Stanley Kubrick

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I have read, in several places, that one way to learn how to plot well, is to dissect the movies you watch. Like my choice in reading materials, often my movie experiences are emotional roller coasters.  What can I say, I’m a masochist at heart. Last night I went on a netflix rampage. I should add here, dear readers, that I usually try to avoid that website at all costs. As much of a time drain that youtube is, at the end of the day, Youtube videos are generally only around four minutes long. Netflix holds movies and entire series at the click of a mouse with no interruptions beside the occasional slow browser. I have an addictive personality guys. Entire weeks can be lost to Netflix. I certainly do not need that right now. 

 

None the less, I willing stepped into the quicksand. I began with Ted Talks. I don’t know if I have mentioned my recent obsession with these, but let me tell you, when I get started on these, it never ends quickly, or without some sort of guilt for not devoting all my time to saving the world or something. Of course I want to save the world. I just don’t know how to do it. Anyway, after I had crawled my way through those like a whipped puppy, I found myself staring of the cliff of the long, dangerous fall, that is a tear-jerk-er Hallmark movie. This one, The Shunning. took place in an Amish community. We followed a girl, Katie, who was about to be wed to the local Bishop. When we first meet Katie, we see her sneaking off to find a hidden guitar, an object that would not please her people. Later, she learns she is adopted, and decides she can’t go through with the wedding. 

 

I became so attached to Katie that I was crying for the last solid thirty minutes of the movie. She was real to me. The movie makers had perfectly kept up that essential suspension of belief. I want my characters to be like that; to be so real, not only to me, but to anyone who may read my work. For the most part, my characters are real to me. They have unique voices, appearances, back stories, thoughts… everything that real people have. I just wonder if that is displayed to those around me.

 

Anyway, I began this cry fest following my walk home in a whirlwind of cotton infested air from my job. We were in the actual pool today, and I spent my two hours with my head stuck in various confined spaces along with mold and multiple, various cleaning supplies. Needless to say, by the end of the night, my head was not feeling so well. Twenty minutes and six ibuprofen later (I generally take Excedrin for I’m all but immune to the healing affects of most headache medicine; thus the upped dosage) I was on my way to dreamland.

 

I had a very interesting dream last night, and it was similar in style to ones I’ve had multiple times before. I was in a building very similar to the church I was born into… I was looking for something, but also I got the feeling that I was running from something else and trying to escape. My main obstacle in doing this however was the slew of stairs that never led the way I thought they were going to and were utterly confusing. At one point I began following a wiener dog up the stark white, wooden stairs, but he led me farther astray than I was when I was alone. I woke up right as I reached the top of the stairs and came to a balcony which overlooked a thirty story building. I felt trapped and realized that the only way down was through the stairs or to jump. My eyes opened to reality before I made this decision. I have no idea what that was about. I’d blame it on the meds and fumes if not for the similarities to other dreams I’ve had.

 

I rolled over and grabbed my phone only to find five new text messages from my Spanish partner asking which vocab words I had on my section of our script. That was a great thought to wake up to. I have a strong, passionate hate for that class, and I didn’t want to begin my Sunday that way. Oh well, it needed to be done.  

 

Now that I’m typing this I’m listening to a selection of John Mayer songs on Youtube while smelling the baked potatoes in the oven for lunch. I don’t want to even think about all the homework I have to do today, but I don’t have a choice. Again, I’m thanking the good Lord that I don’t have school tomorrow.

Through my Eyes

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Well that’s all for now guys. So until next time, Keep on Dreaming &*)

~ Rose

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