Getting away from it all – for an evening.

Watching “The Return of the King” – extended version. Bliss. Yes, I have a ton of things to take care of – starting with the laundry (yes, the week end begins ;)… But how can I think of a life so boring as mine when Sam’s fighting the Shelob, Aaragorn’s on his way to Gondor, and Faramir may be burnt alive by the mad, bad and utterly delicious Denethor!!! Thank God for escapist fare – particularly when Peter Jackson’s at the helm.

Digression – today, I did the unthinkable – said Phil Jackson, when I meant Peter Jackson! Quelle horreure! I blame it all on my colleagues – a bunch of NBA crazed lunatics whose sole topic of discussion these past weeks has been the playoffs. I hate basketball – don’t much care for any sport, which makes me stick out like a sore thumb in this sport-obsessed land. As much as I resist, apparently, there is such a thing as passive absorption. Damn!
End of digression.

Returning to escapism – when I think about it, that’s probably the one thing I’ve become better at with age. The more “responsibilities” I acquire, the more “duties” that there are – the easier it is for me to – well, take a break. Lousy strategy – gets me into a shitload of trouble, which in turn makes me want to get away from it all even more than before. It’s just a crazy feedback loop, that’s fast approaching perfection…

I tried to give myself a pep-talk today. Just hang in there for 5 more years, and then you’ll have all the time in the world to stop and smell the roses. Yes, it sounded ridiculous to me too. You can take a deep breath and plough ahead for oh – a few months – but when the light at the end of the tunnel is years away, it’s just hard to keep the faith.

This is precisely the sort of moment when escapist fare is so appealing. Frodo & Sam seem to be in a far tighter spot than I, with many many more chips stacked against them and I take heart from it all. Especially, when I know that all ends well. Yes, Frodo is irreparably wounded by the war – but he does realize the dream of every 20 something – he retires young, and moves to the Elvish equivalent of the Seychelles. So, Eowyn might not get herself Aaragorn – but hey, ending up with Faramir ain’t that bad a deal.

Juvenile? Simple-minded? Just plain stupid? Sure. Does it change the fact that tomorrow am probably going to get chewed out at work? Not at all. But tonight, Tolkien & Jackson are as potent a combination as the best wine.

Adieu for now, I need to get back & focus my full attention on my anodyne for the weary heart & mind.


1 comment so far

  1. Manoj on

    I’m sure it was a tiny Zihuatanejo I ran over in my dream last night. Or am I thinking Chihuahua? In any case, the reference is lost on me, yet I felt the need to read every word of your posts…something I’ve never managed to do with my own posts. If that qualifies as a compliment, then you’re welcome!

    I hope to get some kind of reward for making first comments on blogs. So, Blogger/Google, if you’re keeping tabs on me, then know I’m petty and shall consider even an extra Gig of Gmail space, suitable compensation.

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