Every Day is Exactly the Same

“Oh, American Beauty. That movie made me think. I hated it.”

I froze. I really like American Beauty, and had almost said so. Instead, I said: “Why did you hate it?”

“It took everything America’s been built on – hard work, doing your best, and being responsible, and turned them on their head. It threw all of that into the gutter.”

Which was, of course, very much the reason I liked the film. And still do.

It’s an American Beauty kind of day for me, with a running Stars of the Lid soundtrack (with occasional dips into NiN). It’s grey, almost rainy, and just wetly chilly enough to be uncomfortable. It’s a day fit for a kind of pop-psychological introspection that feels so unique and personal, but is common to everybody.

It’s like being a teenager, but with less emotion and more angst and ennui.

Leaving a friend’s birthday dinner, I overheard the teenage hostesses. “You’re still a kid,” the older said. “Hell, I’m still a kid. Neither of us is thinking like a grownup yet.”

“You won’t ever feel like a grownup,” I said. “You’ll always feel like a kid, wondering when you’ll feel grownup. Instead, you’ll just feel like a kid who has too many rules, and realizes the rules won’t go away.”

I wanted to say that, but I couldn’t. There’s an unspoken rule about that, too.

Gah. I don’t like these kinds of days. Maybe some more rum cake would help…

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