Ch-Ch-Ch...

...anges.


This rocks.
Today I ran for a mile and half. I haven't done any sort of running on my own initiative since well before high school. It felt really amazing. If I do it regularly for a while, I can be a fox for junior prom.

I watched Amelie tonight. I almost cried at the end. I've only seen it once before all the way through, and that was probably a year ago. I remembered vaguely how it ended, and that it ended happily, but I was so affected by it this time. It's beautiful and simple and perfect and totally unrealistic, which is exactly how I wish my life could be.

I really love reading books that get to me, or watching movies that affect me, or listening to music that stirs up emotions. It makes me feel alive, you know? It's so strange that something that impersonal can affect me so strongly. I love it, but it also makes me vulnerable. I cried really hard at Othello. That movie was insane. Amelie makes me want to cry, but for different reasons. (I'm not even PMSing, seriously.) The Pianist is something else all over again... my God! It feels like a punch in the stomach. And reading Maurice made me feel totally - - incandescent. A weird feeling requires a weird word. I felt like I was growing as I read it. I felt that way when I fell asleep to Chopin nocturnes every night for a month or so. They just conditioned me completely, and the music was so incredible. When I'm in the right mood, hearing a particular piece of Chopin's can put me out of my head.
It's really remarkable. It's not the sort of thing you really get to talk about with people, because it only sounds dumb or affected or whatever, but it's not like it's some grand intellectual experience in the first place - it's just something that happens to humans when they hear exactly the right notes at exactly the right time, and then all of a sudden they can feel the depression of the keys like weights going down against their chest and maybe they forget to breathe a little bit, and their eyes get achey and tight, and little body-shivers run up and down. Same thing happens when you hear the right words at the right time. Like good poems.

Hmm.
Oh, ha, hum.