Three topics of discussion for the day: the beauty of the late night phone call, my addiction to blogging, and my inability to enjoy frivolous cinema. Enjoy.
Late Night Phone Calls
There are some aspects of a relationship which are easy to take for granted. One is the act of talking to each other. Goatee called me last night. He was in a hotel in London, and just wanted to say ‘Hello’. After talking for awhile – me telling him about the flat drama and him talking about work – I realised that he and I have never had a phone conversation. So many new relationships start with talking over the phone or online; then you meet the person as a part of a group; then build into seeing each other regularly, but the phone conversations, texts, emails, messages, etc continue. Or at least, that’s how it is for my generation.
Even TheBoy, who I regularly saw after class, often called to chat. (Of course, I now realise that phone conversations are probably easier than face-to-face rendez-vous when one has a wife.) Granted, I’ve only been with Goatee a short time, but we went straight into face-to-face dating: no electronic mediums needed. Maybe this is because I work with him. Maybe it’s because he is a different generation to me. Or, maybe, I’m the one who is getting older and my dating experiences are maturing.
But whatever the reason, it was nice to just talk on the phone. No wondering ‘What are we doing next? Dinner, cinema, out on the town?’ Just talking.
We talked for probably an hour in total, and when I finally went to sleep I felt quite warm and nice. I hope we can keep up these evening phone calls even once he’s back in Glasgow.
My Blogging Addiction
It has been brought to my attention, by some very lovely friends, that I give out way too much information in this blog. It has also been brought to my attention that I am a bit obsessed with blogging. When I sit down to write the post, all I can think about is cramming it all in. I don’t always choose my topic, and I get so excited about new information that I feel I have to post. Today is a good example. There is this three part blog, and the following blog on ‘internet finds’.
Yes, I may be a little obsessive. But is this really a problem?
Sometimes I like to believe I am being altruistic — by posting my life in verbatim I help others. That’s right, I’m the Saint Teresa of blogging. Well, maybe not. But could posting information about publishing, working as an intern, and starting a new life in a weird, cold, Scottish city, help others going through similar situations? I want to believe that I’m not only providing information, but by ranting about the flatmates, co-workers, TheBoy and/or Goatee, others who may be facing similar dilemmas can relate. In otherwords, ‘misery loves company,’ but on a global scale.
But how did I get addicted to blogging? It’s not nicotine or heroine. There’s no chemical influence.
I think the answer lies in the addiction of habit. All my life I’ve kept a journal. I’ve got so many old journals locked in old suitcases in my room at my mum’s. Ever since I was little I kept a diary. Everyday after school I wrote in the diary, and this tradition/habit continued on through University. Notes From the Intern has become my diary.
Perhaps if I had a leather bound notebook that I carried with me so that I could jot down ideas, I wouldn’t post so much on the internet. But, like the rest of the world, I’ve gone electronic. Maybe, I should go buy a notebook. Maybe that will subdue the journaling beast within. Then again, I also like the rush of putting it all online. Getting comments and tracking my stats. So, nah. I’ll stick with my blogging.
The Ruination of Bad Cinema
HarryPotter and I took advantage of my two-for-one Orange cinema tickets, and went and saw ‘Unstoppable’. I wish it had stopped. I was soooo bored. It’s a train that won’t stop. Haven’t we already seen this in ‘Speed’?
What is most upsetting was not the bad writing or cliched story, but that, not so long ago, I would have loved this film. A lot of action, loads of suspense and some family drama thrown in. But this time around, I couldn’t get past it all.
Do you know who I have to thank for this? Academia. Three years of studying the story, has ruined me for life. I can no longer watch an action film without looking for deep structural meaning. Thanks academia.