If you have yet to see Sita Sings the Blues, you must do so. Right now. Stop reading! Make haste!
I had heard about this little wunderfilm back in Chicago, but only from a brief glance at a newspaper. The film festival I've been researching/interviewing people for (my recent interview with Sean Astin included) is including Sita in its repertoire, however, and today, after watching a trailer, my curiosity finally overcame me. Thankfully its creator, Nina Paley, believes in freeing creative content, and has offered it online for free.
Sita Sings the Blues has come to me at the right time. Alone in my room, I'm also singing the blues for a number of reasons... figuratively and literally. Not prone to need to sing in the past, the desire has been recently freed, perhaps by T.'s gracious teachings and encouragement. I'm still not much of a singer, but that doesn't stop me from doing it. Still, being in a silent bed & breakfast does. I realize when I'm driving (or watching Mamma Mia!) just how terribly I need to sing. The car allows me to. But most of the time, there's not really anywhere to go.
Anyway, Sita is also about a woman using her creativity to take control of a crappy situation. If your story has no happy ending, make it into an art project! I love it.
I remember doing this the winter before last, when I was so angry I thought I might lose all control of my actions. So I left the apartment, went to A.'s, and Kyle, A. and I painted. I painted an angry dog biting its own tail. It was immensely therapeutic.
The memory, and my various blues, and watching Sita, has given me a strong desire to paint something again. Oh where in South Bend are the art supplies...?
Now watch the film.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
One or the other.
I am going to need either a friend in this town, or a coffee shop open past 11pm. One of the two. But it needs to happen.
I have been avoiding writing, not because nothing interesting is happening, but rather because I have been overly reliant on the internet--maybe I don't want to put forth mental effort without giving my brain a break from this machine.
I have done some reading. The Brothers Karamazov waits, tucked away in my bag, for when my intellect can pull it together and take another bruising. It's a good book, so far as I can see (I'm just short of 300 pages), but dense as a mother.
And, let's face it, reading is only so satisfying. Without the social stimulation of friendship, I can cook and read, but I'm still rather blah.
And here's the thing--I do not know how to make friends in this town. Two other interns share the apartment upstairs, but they only have a couple weeks left and while they're friendly enough, it's apparent that they're not really interested in hanging out. Which, to be honest, is just as well--I don't get the feeling we'd click anymore than a few randoms on an elevator. Anyway, they get along well with each other.
I rarely see the other interns, and I get a similar feeling from most of them. Most of them are semi-local and have their own home-grown groups, I assume. Many are leaving very soon.
Another problem is the... town itself. At a population of 100,000, it's not precisely small. And yet it carries all the things I dislike and associate with small towns: too few coffee shops, too many churches, too much conservatism, too little liberalism, too many chain stores, too few young people, too many people inside watching television. Walk the streets at any given moment and they're usually deserted, except for maybe someone in the distance, like a mirage.
I could begin going to bars, but that thought makes me a little sad. I went Friday to see a band I have to write about, and I sat alone drinking Blue Moon. There is a certain myth, I think, about meeting people in bars--because unlike the characters on Grey's Anatomy, most people are not secure enough to all wander into a bar alone, hoping to see someone they know but otherwise enjoying the Scene. Actually, most people attend the bars in often large friend groups. This is what I do in Chicago, and it's what South Benders do as well. But I have no friend group. I wasn't necessarily insecure alone with my Blue Moon, but I felt a little reflective. People don't go up and start talking to other people without provoking a range of assumptions. This limits us. This especially limits those of us in a new, smallish town with few other opportunities to make friends.
A final problem is something I have mentioned frequently to some of my friends--generally, most people seem to be satisfied with their stash of friends. They don't need or want more. In that case, there's not often much interest in the whole getting-to-know-you thing... you are a perma-acquaintance, always on loan for a short period of time. Going into our fourth year, there's a routine to our friendships.
Whether here or in Chicago, I am interested in making new friends. I'm happy with the ones I have, but I also appreciate new people and the possibility for new kinds of relationships. Is it my own reliance on other people to befriend me that leaves me stranded? Am I bad at pursuing people and making them into my friends? Yes. I think so.
Well, working on that may take more than the realization. But some coffee at 11pm would help.
I have been avoiding writing, not because nothing interesting is happening, but rather because I have been overly reliant on the internet--maybe I don't want to put forth mental effort without giving my brain a break from this machine.
I have done some reading. The Brothers Karamazov waits, tucked away in my bag, for when my intellect can pull it together and take another bruising. It's a good book, so far as I can see (I'm just short of 300 pages), but dense as a mother.
And, let's face it, reading is only so satisfying. Without the social stimulation of friendship, I can cook and read, but I'm still rather blah.
And here's the thing--I do not know how to make friends in this town. Two other interns share the apartment upstairs, but they only have a couple weeks left and while they're friendly enough, it's apparent that they're not really interested in hanging out. Which, to be honest, is just as well--I don't get the feeling we'd click anymore than a few randoms on an elevator. Anyway, they get along well with each other.
I rarely see the other interns, and I get a similar feeling from most of them. Most of them are semi-local and have their own home-grown groups, I assume. Many are leaving very soon.
Another problem is the... town itself. At a population of 100,000, it's not precisely small. And yet it carries all the things I dislike and associate with small towns: too few coffee shops, too many churches, too much conservatism, too little liberalism, too many chain stores, too few young people, too many people inside watching television. Walk the streets at any given moment and they're usually deserted, except for maybe someone in the distance, like a mirage.
I could begin going to bars, but that thought makes me a little sad. I went Friday to see a band I have to write about, and I sat alone drinking Blue Moon. There is a certain myth, I think, about meeting people in bars--because unlike the characters on Grey's Anatomy, most people are not secure enough to all wander into a bar alone, hoping to see someone they know but otherwise enjoying the Scene. Actually, most people attend the bars in often large friend groups. This is what I do in Chicago, and it's what South Benders do as well. But I have no friend group. I wasn't necessarily insecure alone with my Blue Moon, but I felt a little reflective. People don't go up and start talking to other people without provoking a range of assumptions. This limits us. This especially limits those of us in a new, smallish town with few other opportunities to make friends.
A final problem is something I have mentioned frequently to some of my friends--generally, most people seem to be satisfied with their stash of friends. They don't need or want more. In that case, there's not often much interest in the whole getting-to-know-you thing... you are a perma-acquaintance, always on loan for a short period of time. Going into our fourth year, there's a routine to our friendships.
Whether here or in Chicago, I am interested in making new friends. I'm happy with the ones I have, but I also appreciate new people and the possibility for new kinds of relationships. Is it my own reliance on other people to befriend me that leaves me stranded? Am I bad at pursuing people and making them into my friends? Yes. I think so.
Well, working on that may take more than the realization. But some coffee at 11pm would help.
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