Appreciate the Kick

I remember Quantum of Solace confused a lot of people at the time of its release. It's actually a better Bond movie than most people give it credit for. One of the things that seemed to confused people was Bond's motivation. Many thought his actions were driven purely by revenge for losing Vesper but overlooked the bigger picture. One of my favorite exchanges in this movie happens when M (Judi Dench) confronts Bond (Daniel Craig) about what an asshole he's been, basically.

M: This is about trust. You said you weren't motivated by revenge.
James Bond: I am motivated by my duty.
M: No... I think you're so blinded by inconsolable rage that you don't care who you hurt. When you can't tell your friends from your enemies, it's time to go. 

Motivated by his duty.

To the bigger picture, to take down the bad guys, etc etc.

But we are not all James Bond, are we? No, but we do have an obligation (or duty) not necessarily to take down Quantum (or SPECTRE now since that's who the bad guys will be in Bond 24 aka SPECTRE) or to Her Majesty's government, but to ourselves.

At least, that's my experience.

I'm also reminded of GoldenEye. I've never been too keen on Pierce Brosnan's portrayal of James Bond- I've often told people he doesn't count as James Bond. Whatever. There's a line that's repeated between 006/Alec Trevelyan (Sean Bean) and Bond (Pierce Brosnan).

"For England."

At the end of the movie, Bond drops Trevelyan from an unsurvivable distance to the ground. But shortly before that, he has him by the foot and a brief final exchange takes place.

Trevelyan: "For England, James?"
Bond: "No. For me."

Hmm.

"Maybe this was the kick you needed."

My friends have lived through some very intense things and when I can, I draw wisdom from them. That quote is from an instance of collective reflection on an event that would have normally left me absolutely devastated for ages to come but instead apparently had the opposite effect. Instead of letting it break me down, it became just another hurdle to overcome.

Not for Her Majesty, not for Vesper, not for a gold medal, not for her, but for myself. I'd often neglected to look out for myself in an appropriate way. I'd been searching for meaning and purpose through others and that's a path I don't have to walk on. Not because it's a necessarily dark and vile one but because I gain nothing by continuing on it. Sure, I do things for myself but I do so vicariously and by using others. That's not right.

I'm better off doing things for myself, by myself without having to treat others as crutches.

And I have. For a moment in the beginning, the motivation was to regain what I had lost. But reality set in and I saw the light. Not to go back but to go forward into something brighter.

Ever onward.

Ni!

Ni!

It's Not Your Heart That's Full of Blood

It's not your heart
that's full of blood.
It's not a victory
that's coming up.

This isn't the caress ye be seeking
or the lips you want to kiss.

This isn't tenderness

It's something grim
and blue
ready to rain sadness
upon
poor
old
you.

You won't be smiling in the end.
You won't be crying either.

You'll just be.

It's not a victory you're approaching.
It's not your heart that's full of blood.
It's not warmth in your eyes.
That's not a smile on your lips
or a skip in your step
or the soft breeze of warm days

nor is it
a bitch of a fucking gust
or a sprained ankle coming up
or a shit eating grin
or a moronic gaze
and that's not blood
and that's not your heart

Nobody
will tell you what it is
will fight for you
will help

You're bleeding something awful

You're bleeding this poem.

Pac-Manning it

I like taking long drives to places that throw me into the night, far beyond my residence's zip code and area code, force me to fire up the GPS on my phone, and/or force me to pull into the nearest gas station because "Holy shit! Is it really (late)? How am I low on gas already? Where the fuck am I?"

The reason I like taking these drives is because it helps me think. I know everyone says this but it's true. There's something about driving that makes things click inside your head. I don't know if it's having to focus and keep yourself alert, alive, while inside a metal box with the power to destroy beyond your own power that alters your thought process but it's definitely "something else." It's also a scary thing, that. And I like to think that I've conquered my fear of that, or at the very least suppressed it enough to go on the freeway with the flow of traffic by myself. Los Angeles drivers are assholes.

Hmm.

There's nothing like listening to Bohren & der Club of Gore while driving into "where the hell am I?" and making another detour in "I should probably head back soon."

The only other remarkable instance of music making the drive more colorful is playing the Corneria stage music from Star Fox on the freeway.

Of course, this is much more exciting when the freeway isn't so fucking packed and forcing everyone to drop speed to 20MPH instead of the more fitting 60MPH or if you really want to do something stupid- attempting 90.

Though some would call me a reckless driver and a generally reckless human being (why? I don't know), there are some things I would not attempt like driving while intoxicated, and rapidly creeping into the triple digits of the speedometer of my car by way of flooring it. It's not even a matter of the mounts being fucked up or avoiding a ticket, it's in the interest of self-preservation, the safety of my passengers, and safety in general. As I said before, Los Angeles drivers are assholes. It isn't a difficult task to move your hand or even a finger so slightly to use the turn signals but so many goddamn times, someone avoids using the turn signals and that in turn could potentially cause accidents. Now, factor in people going beyond the speed limit and you have- something you don't want to think about because it's a gruesome disgusting notion.

As such, Corneria at 60 is fine. In a perfect world, 80 and above would be great but I'm not holding my breath for a "perfect world."

There's an indescribable freedom found on the road. It's something I didn't know I'd be so fond of or find so therapeutic. Thankfully, I've been stable enough where I don't feel so burdened by my thoughts and the environment around me that I feel the need to drive off into the night and return home with the sun. Those long hours driving to get practice are some of the best, if not among the most annoying, I've spent.

I think Gary Numan said it best when talking about "Cars"

"I was in traffic in London once and had a problem with some people in front. They tried to beat me up and get me out of the car. I locked the doors and eventually drove up on the pavement and got away from them. It's kind of to do with that. It explains how you can feel safe inside a car in the modern world, which is probably why you get things like road rage. When you're in it, you're whole mentality is different, in a car. It's like your own little personal empire with four wheels on it."
http://www.kaos2000.net/interviews/garynuman/

It's true and anyone can attest to it. Your mentality is different in a car.

And now I can embrace who I guess I'm supposed to be. (Based on the way people have been treating me.) A lone wolf. Alone. Not marred by loneliness or mauled by it but tolerant and accepting of it. There's nothing wrong with something like this. Maybe some people aren't meant to be surrounded by crowds of people. This might sound like a lamentation to you but it isn't. Nor is it an explicit acceptance of a fate unseen. It's acknowledgement that right now, I'm distanced from people (not entirely sure if I'm entirely at fault or if it's something "they" did but it doesn't matter: it is what it is). And that doesn't seem to matter either because I've got my health, I've got my wheels, and I've got a way to roll some of the burdens off of me into the night or lose shreds of them when I lose myself in the distance.

The only downside is finding nearby parking when I come home.

Hmm.

I wonder how far I'll drive next.

Milkshakes

Time is a funny thing. Second looks are also equally bizarre. The two combined creates a jarring effect that leaves the viewer shaken, questioning things, searching for answers or shreds of information posing as placebic answers. Chasing the seemingly unanswerable questions of why and how.

The endless pursuit of happiness by way of answers by way of the eternal chase.

Are we running from or towards something? What happens if we stop? Does something catch up? If so, what is it? What's so bad about it? What if it's good?

On the other hand, what's happens if we just keep running? Will we catch or even get close to what ever it is we are chasing? Will we escape what we were running from? Is the predator so evil we must keep running? Is the prey so worth the exhaustion and endless chasing?

More question than answers and more to think about. More to consider. More to factor in before deciding.

Why is it that only when things pause for a heartbeat do I feel like I've just let the sands of time slip through my fingers and into the swift embrace of the wind of existence?

Years ago, there was so much brightness and eagerness. Now that brightness is dimming and blending into everything else. It's still special but it doesn't stand out as much as it should.

How did so much time just pass me by?