Heath FUCKING Ledger for Christ's sake...
How I loved that movie to pieces. Best Batman movie, by far. The Joker in a nurse get up just made my heart sing with delight. Groove was DEFINATELY in the heart. And I always thought Scarecrow was my favoritest. Guess I'll have to trade in my Deviantart Scarecrow-rendered screen saver for one with the Joker in his nurse dress. Damn did he pull it off.
His anarchist hinted nature suggested many things to my inner subconcious. Pure chaos, in it's rawest form. And Two Face. I can't wait to see where else they go with this.
Also, Hellboy 2 was quite delicious. Charming, funny, and delicious. Now everytime I play GH3 and encounter "Lou", I get a fuzzy warm feeling all over. How quaint!
I titled this particular blog just so, because that's what I felt in watching The new Batman: Psychological Warfare...between Batman, Joker, and Harvey Dent (aka Two Face). All 3 characters had some sort of inner soul struggle, with only one coming out sure of himself. A complete mind fuck. It made you go back and forth from wanting to be a do-gooder, to wanting to wipe humanity from the face of the earth. I really loved how the movie ended. I want to watch this movie over and over and over. And Scarecrow's recruits from the booby hatch make me giggle with glee.
Am I an asshole for this? The world may never know.
I skipped out on therapy last week. After running my son all over Riley for his appts., my bad/sewn foot just didn't have the zest it usually does on Tuesday afternoons. So I opted against driving yet another half hour against Indianapolis's gridlock (I drive a stick, mind you, so the clutch is a BITCH and a HALF on my bad/sewn foot) just to get all my emotions dumped out on the floor of some poor unsuspecting nun's office. It felt rather nice to take a break from those sorts of emotions for the week. Everytime I go there, it feels like I'm tearing open old, old, old wounds, that have healed themselves over long ago. Which is essentially, what I really am doing, but these wounds healed over wrongly, I s'pose. Like maybe they healed, but there was something stuck in those wounds that shouldn't have been there all along, but got stuck in there during the healing process. Things I am getting out know. Mother Katherine says it's supposed to get worse before it gets better. I trust her in this, and hope it's all very true.
Snookms booked us and the fam a surprise stay at Holiday Inn's Carribean Cove on Saturday, which was quite pleasant. Probably our best stay there yet. We had one of the shittiest rooms there, and still managed to enjoy ourselves. We were all much more organized this time, having gone the last 3 times and learning from our "mistakes", so it took away from the stress. Mike and I have this ridiculous habit of avoiding intimacy with one another when these "stressful" situations prevail, (and when I say "intimate", I don't mean fucking, I mean like, looking each other in the eyes longingly, stopping and hugging one another in our passing of each other in close quarters, reaching over and petting each other's legs affectionatley while we drive, THAT kind of intimacy) and I made up my mind before we went on our merry way, that I wasn't going to do this, and that I was going to point it out that I was hoping he wouldn't do the avoiding of intimacy thing either. And it really seemed to help. A lot.
I also brought my Women's Devotional bible too, so I could have backup in case my mental psyche went amiss. It didn't, but I still read it anyway, just because it's nice to get a daily dose of spiritual support in this mad, crazy, fucked up, but ever so delightful world. I always go back to that verse in Corinthians, can't remember if it's one or two, but the one about love, and what love is. I also really like to read Romans and Revelations. Lotsa good insight there.
I've been reading "Sex's" blogs alot, and a theme that she seems good at reiterating is rules. No-no's if you will. I am daunted by this ideal, just because I've never been good at following rules. Not that I don't want to follow them, it's just that because of my fucked-up way of taking information in, I don't always get exactly how they are supposed to go, and then the next thing you know I am spelling out the recipe for disaster. With writing, I disregard rules. Like Otep rants in Blood Pig, "Words remain my only escape". And in escaping the harsh reality of this world, I make for myself my own set of rules, especially in writing. My rules are that there is no fucking rules. But, Sex has a point: If you want anyone else to pay any fucking attention to what the hell you're saying, well then, you better saddle the fuck up and get on the rule horse. And I guess, for the most part, I DO indeed want people to pay some sort of attention to what I'm saying, but then again, there are times when I just don't give a fuck anymore and I just start babbling whatever the fuck comes off my fingertips and onto this here keyboard of mine. The next thing I know, I'm looking around, and nobody's even there anymore. I've lost them all at "Hello", so to speak.
But if alone is where I need be, and if no one shall go with the flow of my prickly purple prose, well then, I s'pose this is where I was meant to be all along. I can't keep changing myself for the sake of others. (unless of course I shot you out of my vagina. That, within itself, is a completely different story.)
I like "Sex's" style, it seems void of many rules that I see in other's writing styles, but I don't know if that's just because I've been reading her blog, and not a whole lot of her "actual work", but her rawness is what appeals to me most. I think in today's standard, that is what a lot of potential readers are looking for. A certain rawness of emotions that just grab out at your heart and either make you laugh your fucking ass off, or make you so angry you want to rip the heart outta someone's ass. Not that I care one way or the other if that's what my writing has the impression of doing to others, because I write to get shit off my chest. But she, she's right up there with Augusten Burroughs in my "book" as far as writing goes. I laughed when she said that her mother suggested she write about being a mother. I feel the same fucking way when my mom goes on those rants as well. But you know?...I'd think you'd make a fine way of doing it, "Sex", especially with the way you use your words. It's what I'm in the process of doing. That's what got turned down at Publish America. My being a bi-polar mommy on paper. My autobiographical utterings. I didn't really go into all of it with the intent of making it a published work, but once it was all said and done, the people who had read it highly suggested it, which inflated my ego hulk style, and here I am paying for my rejection a year later. It's the first time I submitted anything to anyone, so I couldn't help but take it personally. I'm a virgin in all of this.
So take my hand "Sex", and show me "the way".... Kidding of course. Maybe I'll get up enough balls to try submitting to someone else, but right now I need to go sit in a corner and lick my wounds for a bit. I don't know if you got to read any of the comments I left you in your archives, but I left one shortly after I wrote "A day in the life of the Turner's humble abode". You had inspired me to write that, with something you wrote in your May of 2008 archive. Something in regards to "ice sculptures", was it not?
So now, I'm thinking about the comment you might leave, if indeed you leave one at all "Sex". It'll probably be something like. "Wow. You wrote a whole blog entry about me. Now I KNOW you're a stalker." Piss off. :D