Where the Wild Things Are

As it turns out the whole world had read this book as a kid. Somehow it was a book I missed, although when I stop to think about it I can't really tell you a book I read as a child, so who knows, maybe I did have it read to me before and I just forget. Anyway, the book seems to sit somewhere on the surface of the American Consciousness and when the trailer came out for the movie everyone was going omg gah gah over it. And it did look like a good movie to me but others were practically brought to tears by the trailer.

Then it came out and I watched it and I loved it. I'm probably lucky that I never read the book as the only complaints I've heard about the movie are where it wanders too far from the exact details of the book.

Max is a great character and a complex child, and reminds me of one of my own family members. I think I fell in love with him over that 2 hour time span and also felt closer to the real person in my life. The movie did a great thing in lending me a bit of understanding.

I don't know if this spoils anything for those who haven't seen it but let me tell you about my interpretation of the movie.

The wild things are not suppose to represent adults, but each (with one exception, maybe two) were little parts of Max but magnified and stripped down to a few simple traits. They allowed Max to see those parts of himself and how they affected other people. One wild thing was the little kid that no one listens to, another was someone who puts holes into things, another was prone to anger and out bursts, willing to destroy his own home if things weren't going perfectly, another demanded that everything be perfect all the time, the other was the quiet kid too shy to talk. The exception to this rule seemed to be KW who symbolized a mix of Max's mother and sister. She seemed to be the one that all the others pinned some sort of hope on, but who had friends that none of them could understand and who she would rather spend her time with. There is a great moment when Max literally (yes literally) crawls inside of KW to hide from the wild thing that symbolizes his anger. He sits inside of her while the other rants and raves at her. And at that moment it seems that he finally gets what it's like to walk in someone else's shoes.

I don't know why I'm writing about this. But it has sat in my head for a week, very happily and it makes me smile when I think of the movie and the way it made me feel. I'd suggest it to anyone, though I hear people are hesitant to bring super young kids to it as it has sort of a sad feel to and it's highly symbolic. I don't have a kid though, so I don't know. :)

400 Words about Sleep

I don't know much about metaphysics; sleep however is a topic I know a bit about, at least in the same way one who spends their days on a farm knows about animals though they've never taken a zoology class.

I’ve been blessed with the ability to sleep well. I can fall asleep on a whim. As I grow older the locations and positions I can sleep in have decreased, but give me a bed and two minutes and I’m out. Struggling with sleep sounds horrible to me and is a thing I hope to never deal with. Unfortunately it’s probably a false hope, like hoping you never have to deal with losing friends, having your loved ones die, or dying yourself. One of the few times I lose sleep is when I’m worrying about that tragic day when it takes me an hour to fall asleep.

Clearly a key question is: how does one fall asleep? I’m not sure exactly. But I can say how one does not fall asleep and from that perhaps we can suppose how one falls asleep, even if we can’t nail down the physiology behind it. Outside of some “problems” with the brain there are two ways not to fall asleep: if your body is too uncomfortable or if your mind is racing, thinking about something. In regard to comfort I can testify to the importance of a good mattress, this is a thing that can’t be overrated in life. But at my age the bigger problem for most of the people I know is the mind--learning to turn it off. What should we think of a mind that can be turned off so quickly? Does its owner posses such great power over their body? Or does its owner actually NOT have a single important thing to think about? Does the owner have a conscious so clear there is no burden or guilt keeping them awake? Or do they have such a deep and profound apathy that the ills of the world, and their own, can’t penetrate whatever defenses they’ve placed around their minds?

Once, on Maui, I was probably 19, I slept on a hard floor in a sleeping bag; I put a CD in, skipped ahead to song number ten, hit the repeat button, and fell asleep to the sounds of a tropical rain storm and this. And life was brilliant.

Tired

What a tired little blog we have here. Not a post since July?!?!?!!? How has the Internet survived without me? Maybe we'll remedy this shortly.