Friday, February 23, 2007

A Date with Me?!

I went to see the new movie The Number 23 tonight, by myself. It felt almost naughty, obscenely indulgent to steal away that many hours and see an actual movie in an actual movie theater. It's not the movie I was expecting, but I liked it. Mr. Carrey is turning into quite the actor.

Seems I'm having a bit of a movie binge this week. I watched Freedomland yesterday and Matchstick Men today (while the babe was napping). And now that I'm thinking of it, all three of these movies have a similar theme of things not being what they seem. Hmmm, that sorts of ties into why I went to the movies by myself tonight...

In my continuing effort to improve myself (I may be cynical, but I don't think it could ever be said that I'm not optimistic), I have started picking my way through The Vein of Gold by Julia Cameron.

Some of you may be familiar with her most famous work (as far as I know), The Artist's Way. I've been through that one a few times on my own and once in a class. I've owned this sequel for years (perhaps since the Bay Area?) but have never gotten through the first chapter. She wants you to do morning pages every day, an artist's date once a week, and take a 20 minute walk every day. Just reading about that usually exhausts me.

Last week I decided to try it again. The morning pages, despite the evil of being in the morning, aren't that hard. Mostly because I've used them before and know how helpful they are. Which of course begs the question of why I ever stopped but whatever. And the walk is turning out to be not as difficult as I imagined. It makes my dog very happy.

I suck at the artist's date. For the uninitiated, it's a "date" with yourself. It must be a minimum of 1 hour, and it's supposed to be something fun. How is it that I can sit for an hour at night playing FreeCell, but the thought of spending an hour with myself doing something fun seems wrong somehow?

I was planning on going highbrow, taking in a play perhaps, but when I saw the movie listings, my inner child (it's getting a little crowded inside me if you hadn't noticed) jumped with joy. I used to love movies. Maybe I still do.

And to make a long story even longer, all of this arty "stuff" is supposed to open you up, make you more aware of coincidence and such. Three movies, in two days, that each explore the idea of the power we have to lie to ourselves. I repeat, hmmmmm.

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