morrigirl | Dec. 31st, 2003

I just got finished watching "The Scent of Green Papaya," the movie Sebastien loaned me. Now there is a truly pointless movie. Then again it's french and the french are notorious for making stupid movies that cinema snobs drool all over and give awards to. (With the exception of "Cyrano De Bergerac and "Mi Vie En Rose" which are both brilliant.)

Here's the basic plot synopsis: servent girl falls in love with her employer and ends up marrying him. That's it. I swear, nothing else of any importance happened in the film. By the time I got to the end credits my big question was, "and the director wanted to tell me this story because...?"

The older I get the more picky I am about movies. And books. And television. I need a point. I need to come away from a story knowing why it was important to have bothered listening to it. A change needs to occur and it needs to effect the characters to such a degree that they and their surroundings come out different on the other side. I need monuments. There was nothing monumental about the picture I just wasted an hour and half of my life watching.

And now to abruptly shift topics.....

While the night is the easiest time of day for me to give in to my negative thoughts, it is also the easiest for me to give into my most positive. Maybe it's because I'm alone. When I'm alone and there's no one to judge me, it's easier for me to think well of myself. I'll be lounging around on the couch or the floor, and my t-shirt will ride up over my belly. And I'll rest my hand on my stomach, and it'll just feel so soft and smooth. And I'll think how lovely my stomach is. It may not be flat or firm, but it's round and cushy and it's pleasant to touch. It would be nice to curl up against. And I think of how unfortunate it is that I'm the only one who ever gets to touch it. That it is simply too wonderful to go untouched. And I feel sorry for all the people who never have and never will get close to it.