It’s been a day of rest, indeed. I was roused this morning from a truly harmonious 9 or 10 hours with my pillow, give or take, by a phone call from my good buddy Stuffy. No, my friend is no allergy-tortured middle schooler, his last name is Stufflebam. Having a tendency to use the last-name moniker is a tell-tale sign of a college student; so is using abbr.
Some two hours later I was finally able to trudge through the bulwark of my bedroom door and make my way to the kitchen. Bran. Bowl. Milk. Done.
The haircut today went better than last, although I suppose it has to grow out a little bit. I can’t complain though, he gave me what I asked for. I just didn’t know I’d asked for the lesbian frullet special.
I’m pretty sure I’m living in a horror movie. I’m sure of it. My bedroom light flickers somethin’ evil when it’s switched on. I’ll start to worry when I hear background music while I’m in the shower.
CNN’s reporting right now that official intelligence suggests that Al Qaeda intends on hitting New York’s financial institutions again. Watch it, Bush. You’d better make sure the intelligence is solid before you act on it. No, three’s not enough. You need four other intelligence agencies corroborating your intelligence. Oh, by the way, Mr. President, we think it’s really awful of you to not do anything to stop 9/11 when you knew the evidence pointed to it. For shame. Good think Europe loves Kerry. He’ll surely be able to bolster global support for our substantiated War on Terror. Well, the French love him anyway.
I watched The Butterfly Effect tonight, and I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the Director’s Cut ending. If you haven’t seen it, or have only seen the Theatrical Cut, please leave now. This ride’s over.
I mean it, shoo.
Alrighty, now that that’s taken care of. After forcing myself to get beyond the idea that one can recall memories and in such a way change his past and future, I cannot conceive of how hard it would be to essentially not allow yourself to have ever lived because you know that your mere existence causes unimaginable hardships for those you love and your descendents. That’s what happens in the Director’s cut. But for the first time, the alternate ending is actually more than just a different camera angle.
In the Theatrical version, he fixes Kayley’s future by telling her that he hates her when he meets her for the first time. As a result, they never become friends, and their lives never impact each other. On an entirely different scale, that is also a monumental sacrifice. How odd that giving her the very antithesis of the truth is the most loving thing he could say to her. I almost understood why Chun cries in movies. But then I remembered I’m not a wuss.
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