I hate Star Wars. At least, I hate Star Wars as I am now. As a kid though, I was unaware of what Star Wars really was. My parents didn’t enjoy it, and no matter how much I begged, we never watched it on VHS. I thought it was supposed to be something amazing!!! But when I finally saw it in full, it was… meh. As Bill Burr put it, I was too old for it. Plus, I grew up with Star Trek (objectively superior property) so I had a “space fix.” Data was infinitely more interesting to me than a big ship that shot a big laser. Engage me (wink) with a story, don’t try to win me over with untrained actors playing with plastic swords.
However, at 18, I was all about Episode 5, because it was dark and had “meaning.” Clerks clearly outlined why it was superior and a young man needs a dark story to penetrate the world and shine a light on the truth. But looking at the movie at 35, I just see a 124-minute stop gap in the Star Wars mythos. Don’t get me wrong, it could be worse. Return of the Jedi is shit. Plain and simple. I loved Ewoks as a 5 year old kid, but thats’ just a kid being dumb. It’s a dumb movie, with a rehashed plot, and no balls. And sometimes I feel like that is who I am; a dumbshit with no balls.
I’m 35 now, and I don’t know who I am or what I became. The fire of youth is gone (though I still feel a few embers smoldering in depths that I have trouble accessing.) My body needs more time to recharge after going to the gym. My dick doesn’t stand to attention as much as it used to. My hair is thinner, my back hurts, I don’t sleep so well. Where is the man I used to be?
A few weeks ago I was let go from my job. It’s a good thing. The job sucked, the management was aimless and self-congratulating, the atmosphere was ugly. Now the stress is gone, but where do I go from here? Jumping back for a minute, I had a hand in orchestrating my fall from grace. I schemed for my own downfall in the fashion of Little Finger or Varys. I’m a self-fulfilling prophesy of lies and destruction (but with unemployment benefits!) The outcome is bittersweet. Sleep-in mornings, and drunken afternoons. For a moment, anything seems possible. So now, with the burden of corporate overlords off of my back, I’m trying to be honest with myself in order to turn the corner and find meaning in life and find meaning in me.
So… what I am? What happened to me? How did I become this coward and how do I reignite the fire and drive of youth? I’d settle for a pittance of my original inferno, if I’m being honest with myself. Am I meant to sink into my couch and complain about TV or comics without contributing anything new? And even if I might have a talent for criticizing media, does that really mean anything? Do I have anything to say or am I just an empty vessel with self-agrandizing fleets of fancy (or is it flights of fancy?)
That is what I aim to find out. Who am I? What can I contribute? What kind of a person have I become and why am I so disappointed with myself? (I promise to have fewer questions as this string/stream of essays and random thoughts continues.) For now, I’m happy that I’ve actually gotten off of my ass and started to do something, even if that’s just to shout into the void.
And so it begins. With a question… and a soundtrack! Because if there is one thing I am indefinitely confident in/and that I know hasn’t left me, it’s my taste in music. Your daily track, with at least a few sentences of accompanyment, will follow from this day forward. Hopefully an album recommendation will manifest itself on the weekend as well. It’s a new beginning, and a new hope that I still have a bit of fire that I can fan into something worth spouting about.
Today’s track is “No Way Down” by Air France. I’m trying to catch an updraft and make a correction to the flight path that Google Maps has put me on. A manual correction. It takes effort. I’ve got to find the well of youth and a bit of coffee, I imagine. Life is to be lived. Let’s see if I have anything worth living.