O Happy Day

"The worst readers are those who proceed like plundering soldiers: they pick up a few things they use, soil and confuse the rest, and blaspheme the whole."

Friedrich Nietzsche, Mixed Opinions and Maxims

I hate to be such a pessimist, but some days it is the only way to think. I am sick of people telling me I'm a "good writer" because I'm not. I never say what I really want to say in writing, instead churning out drivel that's not even close to what is really on my mind or in my heart. I dance around issues and shoot at moving targets, peering in at the truth with envy, jealousy, greed, and self-loathing.

I watched an old Elvis movie this morning and thought about how sad the typical "life" can be. Two women vied for the attention of "Mike," who was as self-absorbed as he was handsome. In the end, he performed what he considered a courageous act (diving off a cliff in Acapulco -- yes, yes, the movie is "Fun in Acapulco" and how ironic is that) and everyone around him all of a sudden saw him as a hero because of that act of daring. He did it to win the girl he truly loved and also to atone for what he viewed as his part in causing his brother's death, prior to his sojourn to Acapulco. It was an interesting and entertaining film overall, but I found myself feeling so sad for the women, seeing how they both suffered over their attraction to this self-centered man, especially the one who loved him the most, who I presume is the one he "won" in the end. (That was never shown, though.) I also found myself (once again) puzzling over men's behavior and wondering why complications and complexity have to enter into otherwise fulfilling relationships with them. I think it is because we are cursed with brains, forced by nature into the absurdity of thinking.

The day before, I watched "Jailhouse Rock" with my daughter. Even more arrogant in this movie, Elvis treated his love interest (the girl he ended up with in the end) very shabbily and I thought of how these movies give people "scripts" they (we) can copy, imitating behavior that is demeaning and ultimately disappointing. Well, I know by now I must sound bitter and angry. So be it.

Both of these movies did provide some enlightenment, though. In "Fun in Acapulco," I appreciated the Mexican cultural influences. It also reminded me of a trip my mother and I made to Acapulco in 1983. In "Jailhouse Rock," Elvis plays "Vince," who ends up in prison for killing a man who was abusing a woman. Vince's cell mate was a guy who wanted to take advantage of his good fortune and tricked him into signing a contract that gave away half his income. During the scene where this transaction was taking place, my daughter reminded me that this very thing happened to early African American blues artists.

Why does life have to be so fucking unfair?