I was reading this story once and came across a fantastic way to relieve stress and frustration. In the story, this lady was fed up with her life and needed desperately to scream. But instead of morphing into a banshee and destroying her throat, she went to a store and bought reasonably cheap china plates. Boxes and boxes of them. Then she stood in the middle of her kitchen and smashed each plate onto the floor.
Ah. Stress-relief. I should get my own plates. But my mum would kill me if I have pieces of porcelain on the floor.
It's that feeling of frustration that you can't shake, you know, that makes you want to break something. Frustration that easily transforms into irrational anger. I keep wanting to pick up a rock and break someones window. Other times, I wish I could get away from it, so I imagine I could jump into a big fat vat of goo and sink slowly and peacefully to the bottom, so that all the noise stays away above the surface. And all's quiet down where I am in the goo.
goodness, why am I like this?
Anyway, yesterday's movie night was nice, although I was close to falling asleep at the end of the movie cause I was so tired. The pizza was fantastic, Nerney's flat was beautiful (seriously gorgeous and well-tended greenery) and the projector and screen provided me with my much-missed cinematic experience. And Pleasantville was nice even though I'd watched it more than once before.
I like the bit at the end of the movie, when David's mum complains how she's such a wreck cause she's forty years old and a widow and miserable. How when her husband was still alive they had planned for the perfect car, the perfect house, the perfect life. And how everything's wrong now and it's not supposed to be like this. And David tells her, "It's okay. It's not supposed to be anything."
It's not supposed to be anything. I'm okay, I guess.
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