Romantic Comedies

Lately I have taken a slight interest in romantic comedies, yet I can't seem to figure out exactly why. I normally hate predictable movies, and romantic comedies are always predictable. There is always at least one guy and one girl who either have great chemistry or they think they hate each other; there is always some random problem that involves those two people; and in the end, they always end up together. The actors may use language to equivocate viewers into thinking something bad is going to happen, or there is some ruse that tricks most people for at least a few seconds. However, we all know that the final scene is going to be just fine, peachy in fact. 

So why so much interest in these cliche movies? 

No matter what time period, whether it's the late 18th century or present day, the feeling of love is always the same. It doesn't matter whether the setting takes place in some baroque building or in the middle of a deserted island because the viewer knows that there's some connection being made between the characters. It shows that love has no limits, and this is exactly what viewers want. Viewers want the feeling of extreme happiness even during the worst times or want to view the strife and hardships in order to achieve happiness. We want to watch a parvenu on screen who has risen from the dirt to the highest ranking in society, and we want to see that person find true love. 

The funny thing is, we do not think about what COULD happen after the story ends. We are left with a small hint that the couple falls in love and that they live happily ever after. We never think that a character could fall out of love. We do not think that there could be a divorce of some sort because of one character's perfidy. Viewers live to dream of such a perfect scenario; a scene that most likely would never come true. We want to watch something happen in a movie that wouldn't happen in real life; it is some sort of escape for everyone.

Sometimes I wonder how people can come up with so many different scenarios that all results in the same, happy ending. I've seen movies involving people who could make just about anything comestible (since they were chefs), and I've seen a movie where even an anathema is able to find love; she may be cursed, but somehow she still finds her soul mate. Weird, right?

In my opinion, there needs to be a moratorium of romantic comedies; maybe just for about half a year. There have been too many movies produced with predictable endings and feel-good finales. We need to realize that scenarios such as those will never really happen, and we need to produce movies that are more realistic. We shouldn't watch movies where there is always a happy ending because, well, life just isn't like that. Not at all. (But who am I to give such a suggestion? Whether I like to admit it or not, I enjoy watching these movies.)

I'm not trying to deprecate romantic comedies, since I know I'm guilty of watching them pretty frequently. I love the feeling of knowing that everything turned out right in the end, and I love seeing how random the scenes can get before the man and woman are finally together. I like watching how a man proposes in a surreptitious manner or when a person's choler (typically a woman) is completely gone after meeting the love of his or her life. I can't really disparage romantic comedies since I enjoy watching them; it would be like insulting my own interests. I enjoy seeing characters exorciate each other, but at the same time it only brings them closer together somehow. 

So what is my take on these movies? They may all seem similar, but I can't help but enjoy them. They're the typical "chick flicks" that we love watching, and we just can't get enough of them. Those moments where a major problem erupts and we find the characters in a seemingly implacable situation, just grabs the viewer. We all just want a little taste of a dream; even if it means watching it acted out on screen. 

Life

Let's all pretend for just one moment that cliques never existed, and we lived in a society in which everyone got along. Everyone would smile and laugh together...no, I can't even imagine such a place. Each and every person is too unique, too different, and in some cases, too alike. While one person may appear tawdry, another could be defined as a hector. There is always some cachet that defines one group from another, or a special argot only spoken by each group.

Some are annoying sycophants while others are malcontents. Those with whom we associate ourselves with would typically be called our "friends", but are they really? Do we define ourselves by whom we hang out with, by how we associate ourselves with one another, or by who we actually claim to be?

In my opinion, having a friend is almost like having a stepping stone. No, I don't mean it in the terms of "let's take advantage of our friends". It's something more cryptic. It should be seen more along the lines of social interaction and learning how to deal with the "uniqueness" of others. I think they call it"social interaction". It could be seen as some sort of test to see how high we can climb up the ladder in the social pyramid. 

But is life really about social interactions and cultural differences? I think everyone reaches the nadir of their life when they slowly realize what it means to be alive. It seems somewhat depressing, but I believe a person reaches the lowest point in their life when they finally realize just how short life really is. They begin to question their purpose in being here and some sort of reason they came to be here. They look for explanations that would solve the mystery of what exactly happens when we pass away, but there only answer would be result in fear. Would this be the time in our lives when we've fully maturely developed? Is this when we finally begin to gain wisdom? When people realize just how little time they have left, will they still be capricious?

There are two ways to deal with this point in your life. One either pretends to be ebullient, or they fall into a slump. When one falls into a slump, they tend to be laconic when answering questions or become withdrawn. Well, that's how I think of it anyway. I've seen people laugh about it, cry about it, and ponder about it. No one can stop it; it's as if someone or maybe something usurps our life. It is never fair, but we can never fight it or against it. 

So how does this tie in with thoughts about friends? Making friends and having fun, I think this is all just something to pass the limited time we have. We are forced to deal with society and live in it; we need to be a part of it. We learn to deal with our fears of death by remembering that everyone must give up their life (willingly or not). We ease our fears by thinking that we're all in the same boat. No matter who you are, where you're from, what you are, we all ultimately have the same fait. Death isn't meant to beguile us, but it does. 

We are taught to believe that there is a Heaven and Hell, and that our good or bad actions will determine where we go. How are we really to know? Who is to say? No one can come back and tell us where they have gone. No one has passed through the "pearly white gates" and came back (none that we know of anyway). It is all merely fantasy and dreams. We want to know that there is something beyond now. Something beyond, even all of us. 

With all of my thoughts on this sensitive subject, one could castigate me, but they could never prove me wrong; just like how I could never prove them right. Someone may strongly believe in one thing, while I strongly believe in another. We say the Bible is evidence enough to know there is a God, but where did that one book come from? Atheists, Agnostics, Christians, Jewish, Muslims, whoever or whatever you claim to be, no one can take that away from you. No one could really disprove your beliefs, but try backing them up with some substantial proof. Show me someone who's come back from the dead and can tell me where we all go when we pass. 

I feel as if I've been straying off topic, but it all seems somewhat relative (in a twisted sort of way). I am not trying to equivocate anyone into thinking or believing something other than what they believe. I merely believe I speak the truth, whatever the truth may actually be. 

A Single Cookie

He does not have a name I can speak of nor does he have a face I can say much about. He is an amorphous figure that I cannot describe. I can't say much about him, but I can say a few things. I can say that he is an ethereal man. I can say that every time I talk to him, hours turn into ephemeral moments, and before I know it, the day is over. I can say that he means more to me than others would believe. The one thing I can't say though, is how I really feel about him.

We live pretty far away from one another, but that doesn't change anything about our relationship. It's a relationship of, well, true friendship, but I care more for him than he could possibly know. Sometimes, it should allay me that he lives far away from me, but it doesn't, not one bit. The bright side is, he doesn't have to see my moments of sadness, embarrassment, or fear, but what about my moments of happiness or excitement? I want him to be there...here...for those moments especially. I want to share it with him; I want to see him smiling too. It feels like he lives across the country; that's exactly how far away it seems, and this makes me insecure. What is one to do about these feelings of insecurity? Nothing can break the bond that we have right now, but what about later? Something may happen where our lives are torn apart, and then what? He'll slip out of my reach, and I'll watch him walk away to a new life; one where I'm not involved.

He has impacted and changed my life in more ways than I could ever imagine. He's patient, funny, kind, and never temperamental. He knows when it's okay to be sarcastic or witty, and he knows the right times to be serious. He always tells me to be happy rather than upset, and he tells me to be brave when I'm scared. He sounds so darn convincing sometimes; so much so that I can't help but listen. He is a sang-froid who never panics or physically reveals his true feelings or thoughts. He is always calm, even in the worse situations, and he always thinks rationally no matter what has happened. Although he may like to hide what he's thinking, I make sure he tells me everything. He knows that I hate guessing or wondering if anything is wrong, and he knows that he needs to tell me; sometimes I think he knows me too well. He hates when I worry about him, and usually tells me not to worry about him. However, he's allowed to worry about me, and he always does, even when I tell him not to. Something here seems somewhat unfair, but I smile at his words nonetheless. I may not be allowed to worry about him, but I'll let you in on a secret: I always do.

I tend to be stuck in constant moments of ennui (I think I need more to do with my life), but they're broken when I start a conversation with him that usually begins with the simple word, "hi." That seems to be when the magic begins. It starts off with the normal greetings, but then it veers off into the most random topics that lasts for hours. We have been talking to one another for years, wouldn't you think that by now there would be nothing left to talk about? I tend to talk in a garrulous manner whenever I'm with him. Everything I'm thinking about just seems to come pouring out of my mouth within the span of half an hour. I know most of the things I say have no point or mean nothing, but he always listens with interest to anything I have to say. He laughs at the right moments, smiles, or says something in agreement just so that he knows that I know that he's listening. Whenever he talks, however, the mood shifts. It's as if every word spoken means something. He is never really a quixotic thinker. No matter how harsh the truth may seem, he thinks realistically. Our conversations tend to go from funny to serious or from happy to sad, but they always keep me entertained. I take everything he says to me, which is mostly advice, to heart. He teaches life lessons, sometimes without even knowing it.

I tend to make a lot of mistakes or say things that don't make much sense, but he never derides me. Some people make fun of me for it, and I get embarrassed. However, he does the opposite. He may laugh a bit, but he'd say it's okay and that everyone makes mistakes. However, sometimes I feel like I make more mistakes when I'm with him then with anyone else. What I love about him though, is that he knows me so well. He could probably write a whole dossier about me, but maybe that's because I'm just predictable and easy to read. I mentioned before that he doesn't reveal much about himself, but I'm pretty sure I know him just as well as he knows me. I know that if I really wanted something, he'd give it to me. For example, he could be eating the last cookie on a plate, and I'd ask for it. He'd probably tease me a bit, but with a simple "please?" he'd cede it to me. He succumbs to my begging, and for that I always give him a huge smile. Some may say he spoils me, but I'd say it's something bigger and better.

When I say I know a person, that means I REALLY know them. With this one person, I know him better than I know myself sometimes. I could write a whole novel about him, but I'll keep it as simple as possible. Everyone tends to be maladroit at something, whether it be something like sports, writing, or playing games. It can be anything. Everyone is good and bad at something, but this one person seems like he rejects that idea. He has the most incredible skills when it comes to learning quickly. Oh sure he may be bad the first time he tries something, but give him two or three more tries. He'll be better than you within a matter of moments. Even though he is amazing at pretty much anything he tries, he is in no way a supercilious person. He won't rub it in your face that you lost. In fact, he'll just call himself lucky. Though to me, he seems to be awfully lucky with everything in his life. I think every person in the world would be invidious of everything he could do, and everything he has the potential to do. I know I already am.

He is my best friend and my enemy. He is my rival and my companion. I could write so much more about him, but then I think I could possibly crash the server. My heart is burgeoning solely because of him. Every since I met him we have slowly been coalescing. He is a part of me, and I'm a part of him. He is unique in more ways that I could dare to describe. His heart is like the last cookie on the plate. It is always waiting for someone, but it is always willing to be given.

A Secret Life

Is it possible to ever "live" another life? Would someone ever be truly happy pretending to be someone they're not? Welcome to the life of an actor. In some ways, actors are found hidden within everyone; they are not only the people found on stage or on the movie screen. It is something more. Sure, an actor could play an epicure in a movie, eating at the best restaurants and drinking only the most expensive wines. However, the question I would like to present is: How much of our lives do we spend pretending?

Everyone has probably been to at least one bacchanal, where they would find themselves dancing, drinking, eating, or socializing. Exactly how many people in the room pretend to be someone they're not? Are they doing something that's socially acceptable? Whether we want to do something or not, people are imbued with the lifestyles of today. We are forced to bend ourselves to "fit in". No one would want to be deemed a "loser", would they?

I would exhort most by telling them to stop pretending. I would tell them to be themselves, rather than who they want to be. It's a world of ideals. However, if I were to spread my thoughts, I would just call myself a hypocrite. I would not want to preaching bombastic words, when I don't even support them. I would sound like a know-it-all who, in reality, knows nothing.

This also might explain why it seems so odd to see some famous actor in a cameo. They would usually be found playing the main role, but why did they only make a quick appearance? One would think, "That's not like them to do that." The problem is, we would never really know if it's like them to do that. We don't know anything about the actor or person.

I want to see how many people actually live lying to others, and most importantly, themselves. How hypocritical can we all really be? I cannot deny what I've done in my life. I've pretended to be someone I'm not; I've outright lied to others; I've acted like a complete fool. Who is to say though, exactly when we're acting? If we "pretend", does that mean we don't really know ourselves? Is this a way to escape answering the question? We want to find ourselves and express ourselves in major ways, but how can we do so?

I've been ranting on about pretenders and actors, but I don't think that I can even answer my own question. How much of our lives do we spend pretending? It would be too harsh to say we spend our entire lives pretending, but it would be a lie to say we never pretend. We live in a society based on focusing on others' opinions. Who is to say what is really cool and what's not?

I have found that pretending is an addiction. You say one thing to escape another, and you just continue to do it for the rest of your life. It is an addiction, a habit, that no one wants to admit. So to answer the question of how much of our lives we spend pretending, there really is no answer. We do it unconsciously, and many refuse to admit it. Meet the leaders of tomorrow.

My Summer Part II

I definitely miss the Summer days of going to the beach and relaxing all day long. However, once the week-long vacation was over, I was put to work. During the rest of the Summer, I volunteered at UMDNJ, the University of Medicine and Dentistry of New Jersey in order to finally see how a hospital actually works. However, I discovered that everything was a lot different than I pictured.

When I was assigned to work in the PAC-U (Post-Anesthesia Care Unit), I expected a lively day filled with a million different exciting moments to keep myself preoccupied and busy. Before I could find out how "exciting" it was, I was switched into Same Day Surgery. Working in Same Day Surgery became one of the worst experiences of my life.

I found myself mixed in with a bunch of gregarious nurses, but they didn't seem to like me very much. I never exactly knew why, but they always treated me like a pariah. I mean, I know I was only a volunteer and not an actual worker, but they didn't have to treat me differently. I would assume nurses are nice and caring to everyone, but I was wrong. I realized some of the people in Same Day Surgery were the antipodes of what I expected them to be. I knew they laughed at me sometimes when I didn't seem to be around, and they would criticize me too. I tried hard to be chary; I think I wanted to win them over with all my effort.

There was one time when a nurse tried to be nice to me. She taught me how to take a patients' temperature, and how to take his vitals. I was ecstatic. I thought that if I were finally useful, then the other nurses would like me. Oh how I was so very wrong. While I was taking the temperature of a patient, a different nurse began to yell at me. Apparently I wasn't allowed to take the temperature or check the vitals. The nurse started yelling things like, "What if you took the wrong temperature? What if you did something wrong? Then the hospital would be blamed! You're only a volunteer, what if something suddenly went wrong?" The whole time I was silent and wondering so many different things. How exactly was this completely my fault? One nurse told me to do it, and I did it. Why was I the only one wrong in this situation?

At this point, the nurse that was yelling at me began to exacerbate me. I was getting angrier and angrier at each word directed towards me. Who was she to yell at me? I only did what I was told. I was following the orders of another nurse like a well-behaved minion. What, exactly, was wrong with that?

And is it possible that my day could have actually been made worse? Why yes, it could. While I was in the back doing other work I was assigned, I went towards the Nurses Station to grab something. When I got close enough, I heard a bunch of roaring laughter. They were talking about what had just happened with me. They talked about me as if I were an ingénue. The nurse who taught me how to take the temperature and vitals was the women laughing the hardest. She was defending herself, but she said nothing to clear my name at all. I was suddenly hit with a paroxysm of emotions. I was angry, but then overwhelming grief struck me.

I tried to come up with excuses as to why the nurses acted the way they did. I tried to see it from their point of view. I tried to describe them in the nicest ways possible to my family, but every single nice thing I said about them disappeared. Once the nurses started to make fun of me and laugh at me, that was when I abjured every belief I had in them. I tried to believe they were completely good people. I tried to believe that they probably just had a hard week, but I learned that I was wrong.

I ended up breaking down and crying. I felt like an idiot, and it was obvious the nurses thought I was one too. I was constantly importuned with crazy assignments, and I had nothing to show for it. I was never appreciated being there, and I only caused more trouble for the nurses. Everything just hit me. I was a naive girl that did everything wrong. In order to preclude an event like this from happening ever again, I decided I would go to the volunteer office and change the section I was assigned to.

Because I actually did know someone working in the hospital, I was allowed to shadow her instead of working in Same Day Surgery. I was actually allowed to switch from Same Day Surgery back to the PAC-U, but I would normally just shadow my family friend. She was a PA (physician's assistant) for the Assistant Dean of the University Medical School. He was an eminent man known all around the hospital. His main focus dealt with Pediatric Surgery.

When I discovered I was allowed to shadow such an important doctor, I was filled with brio. I would finally get to see what I wanted to see: surgeries. Another great thing about shadowing this man, was the fact that he was so important. Medical students would shadow him too, in order to gain experience. This time, I wasn't alone. I was able to listen to enigmatic discussions, where the students and the Assistant Dean used random medical terms I had never heard before. It was actually more interesting than I thought it would be. Even though I didn't understand more than half the things they said, I enjoyed shadowing and observing. For the first time since I had arrived there, I was actually enjoying what I had to do.

The experience filled me with both happiness and sadness. There was one time I went into the pediatric emergency room. The sight of it was depressing already. There was one time in particular when I was forced to watch the PA try to resuscitate a baby that was only a few weeks old. The maudlin mother was sitting on a chair watching the sight, crying the entire time. Every time I think back to that day, I get begin to feel sorry again. The nurses and doctors attempted to resuscitate the baby for over half an hour. By then, everyone knew the ending to the story. The baby was dead. It was as if God commandeered the baby's life, and the doctor's could do nothing to stop it. Was it really time for such a young baby to go? The scene haunts me. For the first time in my life, I had witnessed the reality of human mortality.

My Summer (Part I)

This past Summer, I feel like I have seen and witnessed more eventful days than I ever have in my life (though this is a slight exaggeration). It all started off with a one week vacation to Riviera Maya, Mexico. How many people are lucky enough to stay at a beautiful resort with its own private beach? I spent halcyon days just sitting on the beach in front of the bluest water I have ever seen. It was better to witness the beautiful sights myself instead of just seeing it displayed in simple pictures on the computer screen.

There was one specific night that I remember so clearly in my mind. It was around 11 p.m at night, and the beach was quiet. All one could hear was the crashing of the waves, but I could see so much more. I saw the stars so clearly in the sky, the lights reflecting off the dark water, the smooth sand on the ground, and the palm trees swaying in the cool breeze. Desultory thoughts seemed to jump at me all at once while I watched the waves at night. For once, I didn't mind the random thoughts or ideas jumping into my head. I finally had the time to think everything through, without being interrupted by daily life. The tranquility of the moment just seemed to overwhelm me. This aberration from my normal, crazy life was a perfect break. I momentarily felt free.

Sometimes there would be activities in abeyance, especially when it rained (though this didn't happen often). Occasionally, we'd have to postpone a snorkeling trip or a trip to some other famous beach in the area. Even though these activities were fun, I sometimes just enjoyed staying around the resort. In actuality, in a place like the Grand Mayan (the resort), there really was no need to leave. It was paradise in itself.

Although I miss the trip to Mexico, I felt like I was suddenly thrown back into reality. My paradise was gone, and I was back in New Jersey. It was as if my moments of drinking potable substances was over; my paradise was gone. I was now welcomed back into reality where I was smacked in the face with something new: a poisonous drink called reality.