when all logic grows cold and all thinking gets done

The more I find myself studying, the more mindless the fare I seem to attack when I have a spare moment. Last Friday, feeling it was time for a break, some peeps and I agreed we needed to go see a movie. And we also had no argument that The Bourne Ultimatum should be that movie. I mean to tell you I have no special love for Matt Damon. In fact, sometimes I find him a bit smarmy and self-important. Also, it really annoys me that his Boston accent is so quickly deteriorating- heaven help us all if he has to actually pull off an accent from elsewhere (remember Kevin Costner in Robin Hood?). Also, I have a special sort of disgust for the blank, blah Julia Stiles. Still, 2-2 cancel each other out: give me David Strathairn and Joan Allen, and I can dig it.

Now supposedly the movie had some deeper points, which I might have caught at a different time, in a different frame of mind. But on Friday, my brain was not in the mood for any sort of machinations. Instead, I just sort of watched all this speeding about and beating of various thugs into pulps and suspension-of-disbelief outsmarting of the bad guys, and was glad to have my brain distracted for two hours.

You could say it was simply temporary, but I have to tell you that I have also watched Derailed, a movie no one should ever really see. Within the first fifteen minutes of the film, I knew exactly what was going to happen. Did that matter? Not one bit. Clive Owen? Yes please. I should be angry with Clive Owen for forcing me to sit through two hours of an absolute disaster of a movie. I should have been yelling at the television, "Screw that, Clive, you are not good at playing gullible." But me, I have trouble getting cross with Clive. He knows he can get away with appearing in nonsensical films and I'll sit through them just pleased to see his face for an hour or two. That's the kind of relationship we have.

It's like there are only two types of thoughts running through my head these days- these kinds, these hi, I'm a thirteen year old schoolgirl kind, and the other kind, the kind that would be mind-numbingly boring to anyone not in my exact predicament. So, you get the adolescent babbling instead.

It should be noted that everyone is starting to freak out now, and some people's sweet exteriors have cracked. And I feel like coming into class tomorrow humming, it's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine. It's not that I'm not overwhelmed. I'm just as barely keeping up as the next person. But I don't do freaking out. Freaking out I save for real emergencies- people dying, severe hurricanes, someone stealing my car, or Clive Owen announcing he's retiring from the movies.