It Feels Like a Movie

Here are some thoughts. They are not related to each other. I don’t think there is a common thread I can disguise as a point, apart from the fact they are inconsequential.

1) I was in a lift and it opened on all the floors I did not press. Each floor was empty. Bereft of souls on the other side. It unnerved me because I had seen this tension build before. It is a common device used in the world of fiction and my brain grew up there. I hysterically conceded this was a precursor to doom. I wondered if the final floor (my floor) would open onto a nightmare, a vision of Lovecraftian proportions with tentacles and blood and grit.

Granted, it was late at night and I was on my own and I was sleepy, but the sound the lift made as it tore itself apart was swift and final and as though designed to induce terror by a Hollywood technical department. It was a lift with a stock sound. It felt like it was doing it’s job, but with a touch of inevitability. Nothing was on the other side.

2) I was having a discussion with my boyfriend about when we were young, and we started raking over the various pubescent ailments we had suffered from, how we weren’t cool, had bad skin, were overweight etc, and I wondered how all the clear skinned cool girls looked back on this time. I wondered if they felt left out when others around them compared the puppy fat they shed or the pink Lycra cycling shorts they wore or the boy’s hair cuts they thought were a good idea.

Did they say “Tell me about it, when I was young I developed breasts at the appropriate time, knew how to dress, understood the value of hair straighteners and was envied by all, BUT I really wish I had been a awkward gawky teenager because I hear they turn out more determined and successful.”

3) Oral Fixations. In general, but not like that. The correlation I have between putting chewing gum in my mouth, and how long I was breastfed for. Probably too long.

4) What if you felt ugly at school and depended on that helping you turn out to be successful? But you weren’t?

5) I might start writing fake poet obituaries instead of ticking everything off my do to list. I have an app on my phone and its pretty long, get ears syringed, clean camera, go to Edinburgh fringe etc. But if I ticked it all before One Pm on some idle Tuesday then what to do with the day (other then more art, more learning, going to the arbitirum (the tree museum, what is that called?).

Everyone loves putting off inevitable admin and imagining future me will certainly get it done. Catching up means you have less time to procrastinate on things that turn out to be pointless. But fruitful. But pointless.