It's really hard to believe what I took to Goodwill this morning. Apparently I have a fifth dimension in my apartment, something like the TARDIS, Dr. Who's call box, his telephone booth that had a massively huge spaceship inside it once you stepped in.
The entire Escape was filled, and I just took another load of stuff down to the recycling room. I also got the filing cabinet and bathroom cabinet taken care of; I decided that since I hadn't heard from Andrew it was "no thanks" to all things offered, so I put them on Craig's list. The ink hadn't even dried on my ad for them (I was offering them for free) before I got a call and let them go.
I immediately took the two ads down, but apparently "Delete" and "Confirm Delete" didn't mean what I thought it meant to Craig's List as I continued to get calls. I came out of my movie with my Mother (Mama Mia!) and found eight voice mails from people asking about it. I went to her house to get some bags I could use for putting more stuff in for Goodwill (despite my wagonload today, I know I'll have more) as well as some more boxes and logged onto Craig's List to see if my ads were still there.
And...they were.
So then I had to hassle with them because the site kept saying I didn't have an account. Given that I've created one before -- twice -- and logged in this morning (you can post without an account, but I know I had one), it kept saying no account could be found under my email, nor could my email be found in their system.
Quite strange. Given they emailed me two confirmation emails this morning after I posted my ads.
But I've made huge progress today. The trip to Goodwill, first, then I went around and took down all my hanging and framed pictures, in order of size. Then I boxed up the medium and small ones, and went around and pulled out all of the nails from the wall. A few I couldn't reach as furniture makes it too hard to get to them, so I'll just get them later. And then, after a slight snooze on the couch, I boxed up all my books. Tomorrow I think I might do the knicknacks in my living room and bedroom.
I know it sounds like I'm being hoisted out of here within a few days, but I honestly don't know when I'm moving -- just that it's soon. I feel like this scene from Spaceballs:
Like Lord Dark Helmet, I have no idea, either, when my then will be now or when my now will be then ... or... when my now will be now or my then will be...uh, then.
Whatever.
Anyway.
They did say it could be next month, but as all this transpired on July 31 (the car and the decision to move), I don't know if she meant August or September. But she did also say that a unit could open "soon", and so that could mean my then could be now soon at any time...er --
What I mean is that I could get a call sooner rather than later, and I'd rather be as packed up as possible.
I won't have time to work on my place next Friday or Saturday, as Friday is our company trip (we're going to Cannon beach for the day), and then Saturday I have a four hour workshop, then in the evening I have a talk to go to. Plus Friday night my friends are having a CD release party for their new album.
And so I'd rather just get as much done this weekend since I'm out those two days.
Anyhoo...I now have 9 boxes in my office, two of which are stuff from my filing cabinet. And the funny thing is, as I've been going through my stuff the common thought popping into my head has been, "Why have I been keeping this?!"
Now it's time for a tasty sandwich and beer from the store. (That's my brother's influence on me, and such a meal is commonly known as an "Andrew Special.)
Here's to hoping my then will be now, soon.
-- H
Saturday, August 02, 2008
Friday, August 01, 2008
Escaping
So...I decided to use my Dad's Escape that he's kindly let me borrow this week to my advantage.
I came home tonight and spent nearly four hours going through my office stuff, as well as a few other spots in my apartment, getting rid of papers, junk and stuff I can give away.
Then I loaded up the car with as much stuff as I could for tonight, and I'm going to drop it all of at Goodwill tomorrow. I think I'll be able to use the Escort for anything else; I had a printer stand thing in my office closet that wouldn't fit in my car, and I also wanted to donate my printer. I haven't used it in I don't know how long. When I do want to print something I just use one of the printers at the office.
I want to get rid of my four-drawer filing cabinet, too, but I think I'm just going to put that on Craig's List with a "Free!" tag and let someone else come and get it (I did offer it to Andrew, but I doubt he'll take it....Anyone want it? Anyone want a cabinet that hangs above your toilet? Andrew has first dibs on that, too, but anyone else can have it if he and Hanne don't want it....)
I also stuck in bedding and suitcases.
I'm pooped. I'm now going to take a shower and eat and flop. I think an Escape-load size of work tonight is enough. My plan for the rest of my place is to go room by room for culling / junking / recycling, and use my office as the piling / sorting ground.
Oh, I forgot to mention my 5+ trips to the recycling / garbage room....I have about three more of those to do tonight, actually; then I'll go to bed.
Say....is it a good thing when it looks like the top 1/3 of the big community recycling bin looks like it's mostly your stuff -- ?
Ugh. Why is it whenever you go through and get rid of as much stuff as I have tonight, the room in which you've been working looks WORSE than when you started?!
Okay. I need to eat. It's after nine, I feel gross and I'm starving.
-- H
I came home tonight and spent nearly four hours going through my office stuff, as well as a few other spots in my apartment, getting rid of papers, junk and stuff I can give away.
Then I loaded up the car with as much stuff as I could for tonight, and I'm going to drop it all of at Goodwill tomorrow. I think I'll be able to use the Escort for anything else; I had a printer stand thing in my office closet that wouldn't fit in my car, and I also wanted to donate my printer. I haven't used it in I don't know how long. When I do want to print something I just use one of the printers at the office.
I want to get rid of my four-drawer filing cabinet, too, but I think I'm just going to put that on Craig's List with a "Free!" tag and let someone else come and get it (I did offer it to Andrew, but I doubt he'll take it....Anyone want it? Anyone want a cabinet that hangs above your toilet? Andrew has first dibs on that, too, but anyone else can have it if he and Hanne don't want it....)
I also stuck in bedding and suitcases.
I'm pooped. I'm now going to take a shower and eat and flop. I think an Escape-load size of work tonight is enough. My plan for the rest of my place is to go room by room for culling / junking / recycling, and use my office as the piling / sorting ground.
Oh, I forgot to mention my 5+ trips to the recycling / garbage room....I have about three more of those to do tonight, actually; then I'll go to bed.
Say....is it a good thing when it looks like the top 1/3 of the big community recycling bin looks like it's mostly your stuff -- ?
Ugh. Why is it whenever you go through and get rid of as much stuff as I have tonight, the room in which you've been working looks WORSE than when you started?!
Okay. I need to eat. It's after nine, I feel gross and I'm starving.
-- H
Movin' on up...!
I had a wonderful adventure, starting Wednesday evening.
I was on my way to my acupuncture appointment, and as I pulled out at a light, my poor little 1996 Escort, christened Angus, made an odd straining sensation and sound, shuddered a little, and acted like it wasn't going to make it across -- and then it got zippier and picked up. But then my "Check Engine" light began flashing, much to my dismay. It finally stayed on, a little glaring orange light that can mean any bazillion number of things from something small to major drums of doom.
I drove cautiously down the street, paying attention to how it felt and sounded -- but nothing began making any kind of noise or feeling that gave concern, so I continued on, with the intent to go and simply drop Angus off for a check up the following morning at the shop around the corner from where I work.
However, when I turned my car on after my appointment, I was greeted with a horrible dry, grinding, hacking, clattering sound coming from my engine. I knew, with a great sinking feeling, the "Check Engine" light had, indeed, heralded in the "drums of doom."
I called my dad, and he suggested checking the oil; it looked a touch low, so a nice man offered a quart of oil that he had. I put it in, let the engine run for a bit, and the sound stopped. It sounded like I'd at least be able to get home.
But no more than a block and a half away, the sound came back, and I managed to limp poor Angus back to the building and park in a spot where the tow truck could easily get to him (it!).
As Angus got shepherded away to the mechanic's, my dad came and got me in his Ford Escape, which he's kindly lent to me while Angus is in the shop.
The diagnosis I received was that "Angus is really sick." Apparently what happened was that my timing belt went (what I felt with the straining feeling as I crossed the intersection), a piston then bumped a valve and the valve shattered, dropping its parts into the engine, thus chewing it up. To my knowledge I've never had the timing belt replaced (it should be done every 50K miles for my car), and so it went kaput, having worked itself into collapse after being used for slightly more than 100K miles.
After about 842.37 calls between my father, the mechanic and me, the decision came to put in a Ford factory refurbished engine, which will come with a 3-year 100K mile warranty, as good as a spanking new one. The whole total's going to come to at least $3500, and while that sounds like a lot, I'm essentially getting a brand new car inside my 1996 chassis. I can't argue with that, as anything I'd purchase for approximately that amount would come with parts and an engine as old as the car. And it's way cheaper than a new car, which I can't afford.
My dad and grandmother graciously offered to help pay for the repairs, for which I am deeply grateful.
So I'm looking forward to having Angus all healthy and bettered again. I may even manage to squeeze a gallon or two per mile from him; right now I'm averaging around 24-25 MPG, which is nearly as good as many of the new cars I hear being eagerly touted on TV.
When I get him back, I'm going to make sure he gets a good scrubbing, polish and shine. I owe him that much.
In the midst of all of that, I decided I needed to scale back in other ways; I've been living in a really nice 2-bed, 2-bath apartment. I was told in early Spring, that the company that owns the apartments wants to refurbish all the units, and to stay in the one I have, I'd have to move out, let them fix it up, then move back in.
But the whole car thing got me thinking, especially as I was considering the possibility of perhaps having to make car payments as well as then have higher insurance, too. I suddenly realized I no longer wanted a 2 bedroom, 2 bath apartment. It's been nice to have -- the second bathroom was for visitors, leaving me free to have mine in as much of a state of chaos or cleanliness as I wanted, and the second bedroom I used for an office and a meditation area.
As I began to realize, nice is nice, but it's not always necessary.
So yesterday I called the front office and asked how much I'd save if I moved into a 1 bed, 1 bath unit; she told me that it would be $700 a month for a fully refurbished unit. I'm paying $735 right now for an older unit, and with the refurb rent will, for my unit, go up $150. No thanks.
I asked if there was a unit I could see at lunch when I came home, and she said there was. Within three minutes of walking around I was sold. It's in the building across from mine and will face south; I went back today to take pictures (I'll stick in a link at the end of this entry), and ran into the woman whose unit I was shown yesterday (she chose to move out temporarily while hers was redone; it was nice, because her plants and patio furniture got left, so I got a nice visual for what mine will look like), and she said it's also very bright in the Winter. My unit is darkish anyway, even when it's sunny out, as it faces a shady yard. In the Winter it's even worse.
I can't wait. The refurb is absolutely wonderful! They put in:
It's absolutely beautiful.
And here's what I'm most excited about: my bedroom has a sliding glass door that opens onto the terrace! It feels so...so...elegant.
I'll have to do some scaling back, of course, and I'm on the waiting list for a storage space in the apartments (I was told there was none a long time ago. Actually, what that manager said to me was, "Not really."), and I may have to rent a space someplace as my Dad's attic is stuffed more fully than a Thanksgiving Tofurky.
There's actually a decent amount of storage space, and my bedroom has a closet that's about the size of one and half of the ones I already have, plus it has another smaller one with shelving. "You can put your sweaters or other knitwear in here," Susan said.
"Oh," I said. "No -- shoes. Not sweaters -- shoes. Every woman needs a shoe closet!"
She laughed and said, "Yes! Absolutely!"
Honestly, it feels good to be moving into someplace smaller. I was thinking today that, while it doesn't take a lot of time to clean my place now, it can sometimes get tedious.
I may turn my dining area into a little office, and use my meditation corner screen to close it off. Evenutally, I may just shift over completely to a really nice laptop so I can have a dining area. I've inherited hosting Christmas Eve dinner, and I do enjoy doing that; I suppose we could always sit around two card tables in the livingroom or use our laps....
Anyway. Now I'm thinking out loud...er...in cyberspace. Whatever. I'm babbling.
All this transpired in 24 hours, the car and the apartment.
Here are pictures of a unit like what I'll have; this isn't going to be the one I get, but it's enough to show you all what I'll have:
Heather's New Abode
Later, all!
I was on my way to my acupuncture appointment, and as I pulled out at a light, my poor little 1996 Escort, christened Angus, made an odd straining sensation and sound, shuddered a little, and acted like it wasn't going to make it across -- and then it got zippier and picked up. But then my "Check Engine" light began flashing, much to my dismay. It finally stayed on, a little glaring orange light that can mean any bazillion number of things from something small to major drums of doom.
I drove cautiously down the street, paying attention to how it felt and sounded -- but nothing began making any kind of noise or feeling that gave concern, so I continued on, with the intent to go and simply drop Angus off for a check up the following morning at the shop around the corner from where I work.
However, when I turned my car on after my appointment, I was greeted with a horrible dry, grinding, hacking, clattering sound coming from my engine. I knew, with a great sinking feeling, the "Check Engine" light had, indeed, heralded in the "drums of doom."
I called my dad, and he suggested checking the oil; it looked a touch low, so a nice man offered a quart of oil that he had. I put it in, let the engine run for a bit, and the sound stopped. It sounded like I'd at least be able to get home.
But no more than a block and a half away, the sound came back, and I managed to limp poor Angus back to the building and park in a spot where the tow truck could easily get to him (it!).
As Angus got shepherded away to the mechanic's, my dad came and got me in his Ford Escape, which he's kindly lent to me while Angus is in the shop.
The diagnosis I received was that "Angus is really sick." Apparently what happened was that my timing belt went (what I felt with the straining feeling as I crossed the intersection), a piston then bumped a valve and the valve shattered, dropping its parts into the engine, thus chewing it up. To my knowledge I've never had the timing belt replaced (it should be done every 50K miles for my car), and so it went kaput, having worked itself into collapse after being used for slightly more than 100K miles.
After about 842.37 calls between my father, the mechanic and me, the decision came to put in a Ford factory refurbished engine, which will come with a 3-year 100K mile warranty, as good as a spanking new one. The whole total's going to come to at least $3500, and while that sounds like a lot, I'm essentially getting a brand new car inside my 1996 chassis. I can't argue with that, as anything I'd purchase for approximately that amount would come with parts and an engine as old as the car. And it's way cheaper than a new car, which I can't afford.
My dad and grandmother graciously offered to help pay for the repairs, for which I am deeply grateful.
So I'm looking forward to having Angus all healthy and bettered again. I may even manage to squeeze a gallon or two per mile from him; right now I'm averaging around 24-25 MPG, which is nearly as good as many of the new cars I hear being eagerly touted on TV.
When I get him back, I'm going to make sure he gets a good scrubbing, polish and shine. I owe him that much.
In the midst of all of that, I decided I needed to scale back in other ways; I've been living in a really nice 2-bed, 2-bath apartment. I was told in early Spring, that the company that owns the apartments wants to refurbish all the units, and to stay in the one I have, I'd have to move out, let them fix it up, then move back in.
But the whole car thing got me thinking, especially as I was considering the possibility of perhaps having to make car payments as well as then have higher insurance, too. I suddenly realized I no longer wanted a 2 bedroom, 2 bath apartment. It's been nice to have -- the second bathroom was for visitors, leaving me free to have mine in as much of a state of chaos or cleanliness as I wanted, and the second bedroom I used for an office and a meditation area.
As I began to realize, nice is nice, but it's not always necessary.
So yesterday I called the front office and asked how much I'd save if I moved into a 1 bed, 1 bath unit; she told me that it would be $700 a month for a fully refurbished unit. I'm paying $735 right now for an older unit, and with the refurb rent will, for my unit, go up $150. No thanks.
I asked if there was a unit I could see at lunch when I came home, and she said there was. Within three minutes of walking around I was sold. It's in the building across from mine and will face south; I went back today to take pictures (I'll stick in a link at the end of this entry), and ran into the woman whose unit I was shown yesterday (she chose to move out temporarily while hers was redone; it was nice, because her plants and patio furniture got left, so I got a nice visual for what mine will look like), and she said it's also very bright in the Winter. My unit is darkish anyway, even when it's sunny out, as it faces a shady yard. In the Winter it's even worse.
I can't wait. The refurb is absolutely wonderful! They put in:
- Granite countertops
- Stainless steel appliances
- Really nice, new linoleum flooring that looks like stone
- Brand new Berber-like carpet
- Brand new paint
- Totally new recessed lighting in the kitchen (before it was flourescent with plastic sheeting...)
- Brand new low-flow toilet
- Brand new tub
- Brand new sliding glass doors
- Brand new everything possible that could be removed and replaced
- Brand new heating (it used to be electric baseboard coil units; it's still electric, but now they're units with fans)
It's absolutely beautiful.
And here's what I'm most excited about: my bedroom has a sliding glass door that opens onto the terrace! It feels so...so...elegant.
I'll have to do some scaling back, of course, and I'm on the waiting list for a storage space in the apartments (I was told there was none a long time ago. Actually, what that manager said to me was, "Not really."), and I may have to rent a space someplace as my Dad's attic is stuffed more fully than a Thanksgiving Tofurky.
There's actually a decent amount of storage space, and my bedroom has a closet that's about the size of one and half of the ones I already have, plus it has another smaller one with shelving. "You can put your sweaters or other knitwear in here," Susan said.
"Oh," I said. "No -- shoes. Not sweaters -- shoes. Every woman needs a shoe closet!"
She laughed and said, "Yes! Absolutely!"
Honestly, it feels good to be moving into someplace smaller. I was thinking today that, while it doesn't take a lot of time to clean my place now, it can sometimes get tedious.
I may turn my dining area into a little office, and use my meditation corner screen to close it off. Evenutally, I may just shift over completely to a really nice laptop so I can have a dining area. I've inherited hosting Christmas Eve dinner, and I do enjoy doing that; I suppose we could always sit around two card tables in the livingroom or use our laps....
Anyway. Now I'm thinking out loud...er...in cyberspace. Whatever. I'm babbling.
All this transpired in 24 hours, the car and the apartment.
Here are pictures of a unit like what I'll have; this isn't going to be the one I get, but it's enough to show you all what I'll have:
Heather's New Abode
Later, all!
Monday, July 21, 2008
When Things Go Bump in the Night
We all have a dark side. A shadow. A gritty side to our lives and thoughts that creeps with oily and perhaps sinister ropes through our spirits and souls and washes into our dreams sometimes. It's what we have come to believe hides in the dark, perhaps battered around beneath our bed, sleeping in the day with the dust and forgotten corners of our bedroom, then coming alive at night as we slip into the nothingness place of no-thought. It's grimy. Sweaty. Ragged and limned with crawly things that make us dash from switch plate to bed, hoping that what lurks in the corners doesn't reach out with clawed and daggery hand to draw us into its realm.
Or is that -- perhaps just our imagination...?
What has told us that the shadowy things that lurk behind the doors of our minds is slimy and to be paid no attention?
The Black Forest of our childhood fairy tales lurks in our minds -- but is it really filled with old witches waiting to eat us, or perhaps fairies waiting to gnaw at our bones? What if it was merely...a perspective we carried, to help us feel safe?
Day is good, safe.
Night is uneasy and unsafe.
But is it really?
"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows!
But what if The Shadow was merely -- us? A side of ourselves we daren't explore for fear we may find something that rules and justice and what we each believe is right cannot withstand? What if -- just what if -- we did hold up that mirror and look to the other side? Our shadows do know, and we make ourselves happy by pretending it's not there, or perhaps accepting it...but still looking no further than the glimmer darkling on the surface.
The newest Batman movie,The Dark Knight, begins with a bang and shove as stern as a stick of dynamite that forces, non-stop, us to look at that dark side. What is good? What is wrong? What is noble? What is sinister? Powered by a stellar soundtrack, the whole movie is like a wild ride on a roller coaster barely kept in check by engineering and physics.
Batman himself was born of fears, of things that flap and lurk in the damp dark of our minds; he knows what evil lurks in his heart, as he's seen it, and he -- thinks -- he's confronted it and can thus become the salvation of humanity, ensconced in Gotham city.
Thinking he's delved as deeply as he can go into his own dark side, as we all would like to think we have, he discovers, through the unnervingly well-meaning Joker, is that he's only scratched the surface, gone only as deeply as made him comfortable. He only thinks he knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men -- and himself.
Through this conflict -- between self and deeper self, through Batman and The Joker (superbly and sinisterly played by Heath Ledger who manages to simultaneously show a tortured soul for whom we can't help but have sympathy, even if uneasily given), we're forced to look dead-on into that shadow side.
A man, The Joker says, shows his true self in his last moments.
We'd all like to think we know our "true selves". We carry what we think they are around with us like a beloved wallet or purse -- but isn't that belief just a set of makeup no different than what The Joker wears? Isn't it just a mask, no different than Batman's? What would happen if we lifted and and were forced to confront what's shimmering beneath it?
In The Dark Knight, we're forced -- with the same bang and shove with which the movie opens -- to confront that. Who is the true antagonist? Who is the true outlaw? The true villain?
You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain, Harvey Dent, Gotham's District Attorney, says.
But who gives the label -- do we give it to ourselves, or do other people? What makes a hero? Someone who lurks in the dark, using violence to tear down the criminal network of a city? Or is it someone who lurks in the dark, using violence to help us find our own heroic selves we may have overlooked?
What exactly is the anarchy The Joker says he likes to introduce? What is the chaos of which he speaks? He says it's fear. And it's fear that makes us shy away from that shadow place, because in that shadow place lies anarchy, chaos -- and a world in which there may not be any rules...something The Joker has come to realize and live by; Batman says he only has one.
But to that -- what then is true freedom? Do the rules of "justice" and "good" perhaps create a rigid structure that disallows flexibility and truly living life to its fullest? Or is living without them, living in a state of...organized...chaos and anarchy true freedom the better way to live? But is it because it carries such deep and far-reaching power to choose to live that way the reason why we keep it under a tight lid?
But what we -- like Batman finds -- is that lid is not airtight. It's pocked and nicked, and thus unsealed. Easily flipped open. And The Joker, in his trixter way shows us that's the true joke: the control we believe we have can be unraveled at any moment simply by shaking us up and having that lurking anarchy and chaos in us foam up and over the rim of our container.
Batman is The Dark Knight. Harvey Dent is known as Gotham's White Knight; but anyone familiar with the comics (and even the fairly lousy film with Tommy Lee portraying the same part), becomes Two Face -- a man ravaged by rage and revenge. Dark becomes white, white becomes dark. Where does the overlap occur?
The Joker, gleefully sinister to us because he knows this secret -- that we all carry him inside of us, we all have both white and dark knights in us, we all have Jokers lurking between them, becoming the bridge. We've just tricked ourselves into believing we have it all ordered, under lock and key.
But do we?
The psychology behind this latest movie immerses you in these questions; we all carry the potential for having the explosion that occurs when an "unstoppable force meets and immovable object" -- as The Joker happily points is what occurs when we're forced to face our opposite side.
But are Batman and The Joker really opposites? What is light and what is dark? Is Batman really any different than The Joker -- or is it that he's just barely keeping that anarchy and chaos in check?
Or is he?
Who is Gotham's -- our -- true white knight? Don't we all carry a Joker, a Batman and a Two Face in us?
....Or are they all the same person?
Can we really count on ourselves, when pushed with a bang and a shove into a situation, to do the "right thing" -- ? We'd all like to think so. But the fear we also carry is that we may find that we cannot, and have someone else pop out of us, like a clown from a Jack-in-the-Box who takes over, and takes control.
...takes control away from us, even? Or is it perhaps that is our true "control", and we're having our true self be revealed to us?
Is the Joker really the villian? Or is he just...what we find unsettling in us? He shows us we fear true freedom, and he swoops in with laughter and frankness to force us to question our beliefs we've sewn neatly into our minds to keep us sane.
Or...is he perhaps the true sane person in the film? He views the world with a child's frankness and clarity bound up with a genius and an unspeakable sorrow. Life isn't just Disneyland. Yes, it's there -- but there is also soot, grime, excrement and violence. And like Dorothy trying to get to the Emerald City -- to get home -- what he forces us to see, is that in order to get to where we truly want, to get to our true freedom, we must also embrace our shadows and the dark. We all have two faces -- or even three or four.
The true sinister thing is not The Joker or his "insanity", but the realization that we are not who we'd like to think we are. He forces us, just as he forces Batman, to see that he is us, and we are him, just as we are Batman, Commissioner Gordon and Rachel Dawes. The entire film is peopled with facets of our own minds, parts and bits we do our best to avoid seeing, but perhaps still stumble over daily. We are the dark, the light, the innocent and fearless. We are the fearful, the strong and the confident.
But isn't it that potpourri of ropes that bind us up and make us who we are? Aren't, then, the shadowy murky parts of us equally good -- necessary?
The Joker pulls us into those overlooked depths with the power of innocence and the terrible power of the sun, and it's through that light we see the dark parts to which we have, until now, been blissfully blind.
No, you say. That's not me! I would never fall into that way of thinking! True freedom is not in anarchy and chaos!
But...what if -- you might? What if...just what if...it was -- ?
There is no such thing as control; it's smoke and mirrors we keep alive. All it takes, as The Joker tells Batman, is a little push. He forces us to ask ourselves, or at least confront the question of, does the control come from stopping just before we go over the edge -- or does it perhaps by stepping off of it?
That, my dear readers, is the real joke: we do not truly see what we think we see.
And that's what makes the whole movie so terrifyingly, deliciously unsettling.
The good?
The bad?
...or perhaps a shadow or reflection of the same?
Or is that -- perhaps just our imagination...?
What has told us that the shadowy things that lurk behind the doors of our minds is slimy and to be paid no attention?
The Black Forest of our childhood fairy tales lurks in our minds -- but is it really filled with old witches waiting to eat us, or perhaps fairies waiting to gnaw at our bones? What if it was merely...a perspective we carried, to help us feel safe?
Day is good, safe.
Night is uneasy and unsafe.
But is it really?
"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows!
But what if The Shadow was merely -- us? A side of ourselves we daren't explore for fear we may find something that rules and justice and what we each believe is right cannot withstand? What if -- just what if -- we did hold up that mirror and look to the other side? Our shadows do know, and we make ourselves happy by pretending it's not there, or perhaps accepting it...but still looking no further than the glimmer darkling on the surface.
The newest Batman movie,The Dark Knight, begins with a bang and shove as stern as a stick of dynamite that forces, non-stop, us to look at that dark side. What is good? What is wrong? What is noble? What is sinister? Powered by a stellar soundtrack, the whole movie is like a wild ride on a roller coaster barely kept in check by engineering and physics.
Batman himself was born of fears, of things that flap and lurk in the damp dark of our minds; he knows what evil lurks in his heart, as he's seen it, and he -- thinks -- he's confronted it and can thus become the salvation of humanity, ensconced in Gotham city.
Thinking he's delved as deeply as he can go into his own dark side, as we all would like to think we have, he discovers, through the unnervingly well-meaning Joker, is that he's only scratched the surface, gone only as deeply as made him comfortable. He only thinks he knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men -- and himself.
Through this conflict -- between self and deeper self, through Batman and The Joker (superbly and sinisterly played by Heath Ledger who manages to simultaneously show a tortured soul for whom we can't help but have sympathy, even if uneasily given), we're forced to look dead-on into that shadow side.
A man, The Joker says, shows his true self in his last moments.
We'd all like to think we know our "true selves". We carry what we think they are around with us like a beloved wallet or purse -- but isn't that belief just a set of makeup no different than what The Joker wears? Isn't it just a mask, no different than Batman's? What would happen if we lifted and and were forced to confront what's shimmering beneath it?
In The Dark Knight, we're forced -- with the same bang and shove with which the movie opens -- to confront that. Who is the true antagonist? Who is the true outlaw? The true villain?
You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain, Harvey Dent, Gotham's District Attorney, says.
But who gives the label -- do we give it to ourselves, or do other people? What makes a hero? Someone who lurks in the dark, using violence to tear down the criminal network of a city? Or is it someone who lurks in the dark, using violence to help us find our own heroic selves we may have overlooked?
What exactly is the anarchy The Joker says he likes to introduce? What is the chaos of which he speaks? He says it's fear. And it's fear that makes us shy away from that shadow place, because in that shadow place lies anarchy, chaos -- and a world in which there may not be any rules...something The Joker has come to realize and live by; Batman says he only has one.
But to that -- what then is true freedom? Do the rules of "justice" and "good" perhaps create a rigid structure that disallows flexibility and truly living life to its fullest? Or is living without them, living in a state of...organized...chaos and anarchy true freedom the better way to live? But is it because it carries such deep and far-reaching power to choose to live that way the reason why we keep it under a tight lid?
But what we -- like Batman finds -- is that lid is not airtight. It's pocked and nicked, and thus unsealed. Easily flipped open. And The Joker, in his trixter way shows us that's the true joke: the control we believe we have can be unraveled at any moment simply by shaking us up and having that lurking anarchy and chaos in us foam up and over the rim of our container.
Batman is The Dark Knight. Harvey Dent is known as Gotham's White Knight; but anyone familiar with the comics (and even the fairly lousy film with Tommy Lee portraying the same part), becomes Two Face -- a man ravaged by rage and revenge. Dark becomes white, white becomes dark. Where does the overlap occur?
The Joker, gleefully sinister to us because he knows this secret -- that we all carry him inside of us, we all have both white and dark knights in us, we all have Jokers lurking between them, becoming the bridge. We've just tricked ourselves into believing we have it all ordered, under lock and key.
But do we?
The psychology behind this latest movie immerses you in these questions; we all carry the potential for having the explosion that occurs when an "unstoppable force meets and immovable object" -- as The Joker happily points is what occurs when we're forced to face our opposite side.
But are Batman and The Joker really opposites? What is light and what is dark? Is Batman really any different than The Joker -- or is it that he's just barely keeping that anarchy and chaos in check?
Or is he?
Who is Gotham's -- our -- true white knight? Don't we all carry a Joker, a Batman and a Two Face in us?
....Or are they all the same person?
Can we really count on ourselves, when pushed with a bang and a shove into a situation, to do the "right thing" -- ? We'd all like to think so. But the fear we also carry is that we may find that we cannot, and have someone else pop out of us, like a clown from a Jack-in-the-Box who takes over, and takes control.
...takes control away from us, even? Or is it perhaps that is our true "control", and we're having our true self be revealed to us?
Is the Joker really the villian? Or is he just...what we find unsettling in us? He shows us we fear true freedom, and he swoops in with laughter and frankness to force us to question our beliefs we've sewn neatly into our minds to keep us sane.
Or...is he perhaps the true sane person in the film? He views the world with a child's frankness and clarity bound up with a genius and an unspeakable sorrow. Life isn't just Disneyland. Yes, it's there -- but there is also soot, grime, excrement and violence. And like Dorothy trying to get to the Emerald City -- to get home -- what he forces us to see, is that in order to get to where we truly want, to get to our true freedom, we must also embrace our shadows and the dark. We all have two faces -- or even three or four.
The true sinister thing is not The Joker or his "insanity", but the realization that we are not who we'd like to think we are. He forces us, just as he forces Batman, to see that he is us, and we are him, just as we are Batman, Commissioner Gordon and Rachel Dawes. The entire film is peopled with facets of our own minds, parts and bits we do our best to avoid seeing, but perhaps still stumble over daily. We are the dark, the light, the innocent and fearless. We are the fearful, the strong and the confident.
But isn't it that potpourri of ropes that bind us up and make us who we are? Aren't, then, the shadowy murky parts of us equally good -- necessary?
The Joker pulls us into those overlooked depths with the power of innocence and the terrible power of the sun, and it's through that light we see the dark parts to which we have, until now, been blissfully blind.
No, you say. That's not me! I would never fall into that way of thinking! True freedom is not in anarchy and chaos!
But...what if -- you might? What if...just what if...it was -- ?
There is no such thing as control; it's smoke and mirrors we keep alive. All it takes, as The Joker tells Batman, is a little push. He forces us to ask ourselves, or at least confront the question of, does the control come from stopping just before we go over the edge -- or does it perhaps by stepping off of it?
That, my dear readers, is the real joke: we do not truly see what we think we see.
And that's what makes the whole movie so terrifyingly, deliciously unsettling.
The good?
The bad?
...or perhaps a shadow or reflection of the same?
Sunday, July 20, 2008
ARGH! Rudeness!
Ugh. So in my apartment complex we have washers downstairs in a room; about 7 washers and 7 dryers, perhaps 8.
I'm really annoyed at the moment, because I went down at 7:40 am this morning to put in a load (yes, I was up that early. I often / generally am on a weekend) to put in ONE SMALL LOAD and some JACKASS has taken up ALL THE WASHERS.
YES. *** ALL *** of them.
How do I know they have? Because the timer on the front of each machine is within a minute or of each other; 22, 23, 22, 22, 23 and so on.
The whole reason I went down early was to catch the washers before this clod (okay, so it could be more than one...) commandeered the entire laundry room for his/her own personal use. Afterall -- nobody else wants to do laundry on the weekend, of course.
One day, I looked in a washer of such a happening and each one was filled with about 5 things. For crap's sake. What a waste of 75 cents and water. Sure, I believe in separating colors and whites, but this person had 5 colors in one, then about 5 more colored items in the next one, then a about the same amount of whites in the next -- and so on.
It really BLEEEP-ing annoys me -- nay, pisses me the &$@# off -- that someone would be that clueless and lack that kind of common sense.
Yes. I get that laundry is annoying. Yes, I get that you want to get it all done as quickly as possible. But that's why you do it more often, perhaps, rather than once a week and thus putting AN ENTIRE 3-FLOOR BUILDING OF ABOUT 150 OR MORE UNITS ON HOLD.
Ugh. So I came up and lodged a complaint to the management.
Again.
I've complained about this before -- it seems like they could put a 3 unit limit on someone.
Because here's the thing: whoever does this then takes up ALL THE DRYERS, TOO.
Once I hung around for a bit of time as they timed out (like for about 10 minutes) to -- POLITELY -- say something to the clod --
Er, ahem -- neighbor --
-- but they never showed up in that timeframe. So not only were they hogging the washers and dryers (a dry cycle is 60-80 minutes long), they continued to hog it after it was over.
Sure. I've left a load in longer than just the 35 minutes for a wash or the 60 minutes for a wash for a variety of reasons (I've forgotten, I've gotten sidetracked, I've left to do an errand for the hour and it took longer, etc.) but It's only been one *MAYBE* two loads.
It never ceases to amaze me at how clueless people are that there might possibly maybe perhaps be other people that exist outside of their own little world.
*SIGHGROAN*
GRRRR....growl (muttermuttermuttermuttermutter)
Anyway. Enough on that. It's probably a good thing I've never run into this clod (SORRY SORRY, NEIGHBOR!)...otherwise they might find themselves with a laundry basket-shaped belly after I stuffed it down their neck. :)
But I'd do it with all the grace and politeness I was raised to have when dealing with people. I wouldn't be the least bit rude about it. Not at all. I'd simply be giving them a hands-on definition -- a...visual, if you will -- of "Go stuff yourself."
..............At least it's a pretty day outside! :)
-- H
I'm really annoyed at the moment, because I went down at 7:40 am this morning to put in a load (yes, I was up that early. I often / generally am on a weekend) to put in ONE SMALL LOAD and some JACKASS has taken up ALL THE WASHERS.
YES. *** ALL *** of them.
How do I know they have? Because the timer on the front of each machine is within a minute or of each other; 22, 23, 22, 22, 23 and so on.
The whole reason I went down early was to catch the washers before this clod (okay, so it could be more than one...) commandeered the entire laundry room for his/her own personal use. Afterall -- nobody else wants to do laundry on the weekend, of course.
One day, I looked in a washer of such a happening and each one was filled with about 5 things. For crap's sake. What a waste of 75 cents and water. Sure, I believe in separating colors and whites, but this person had 5 colors in one, then about 5 more colored items in the next one, then a about the same amount of whites in the next -- and so on.
It really BLEEEP-ing annoys me -- nay, pisses me the &$@# off -- that someone would be that clueless and lack that kind of common sense.
Yes. I get that laundry is annoying. Yes, I get that you want to get it all done as quickly as possible. But that's why you do it more often, perhaps, rather than once a week and thus putting AN ENTIRE 3-FLOOR BUILDING OF ABOUT 150 OR MORE UNITS ON HOLD.
Ugh. So I came up and lodged a complaint to the management.
Again.
I've complained about this before -- it seems like they could put a 3 unit limit on someone.
Because here's the thing: whoever does this then takes up ALL THE DRYERS, TOO.
Once I hung around for a bit of time as they timed out (like for about 10 minutes) to -- POLITELY -- say something to the clod --
Er, ahem -- neighbor --
-- but they never showed up in that timeframe. So not only were they hogging the washers and dryers (a dry cycle is 60-80 minutes long), they continued to hog it after it was over.
Sure. I've left a load in longer than just the 35 minutes for a wash or the 60 minutes for a wash for a variety of reasons (I've forgotten, I've gotten sidetracked, I've left to do an errand for the hour and it took longer, etc.) but It's only been one *MAYBE* two loads.
It never ceases to amaze me at how clueless people are that there might possibly maybe perhaps be other people that exist outside of their own little world.
*SIGHGROAN*
GRRRR....growl (muttermuttermuttermuttermutter)
Anyway. Enough on that. It's probably a good thing I've never run into this clod (SORRY SORRY, NEIGHBOR!)...otherwise they might find themselves with a laundry basket-shaped belly after I stuffed it down their neck. :)
But I'd do it with all the grace and politeness I was raised to have when dealing with people. I wouldn't be the least bit rude about it. Not at all. I'd simply be giving them a hands-on definition -- a...visual, if you will -- of "Go stuff yourself."
..............At least it's a pretty day outside! :)
-- H
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)