Thoughts Post-Tarantino

Sometimes, people choose to feel some kind of painful physical sensation "just so they can feel something at all." This rationale always makes sense to me when I watch gut-wrenching movies. My general philosophy on film violence is that I'd rather it look extremely real than extremely fake--I don't want to be desensitized. And as I sat in the theatre tonight watching Inglorious Bastards, almost unable to keep watching and pressing my fist to my mouth, I remembered that. I usually forget to experience things emotionally. In fact, usually for me emotions happen by accident--and this movie was no exception. I could still see the building blocks that were manipulating me to feel all the emotions I felt, but that other part was awakened too--the one that slowly atrophies the harder I try to stay calm and rational. The one that inspires me to make over-sharing blog posts at 2 am. The one that I haven't seen much of since I stopped wanting to be an actor.

And I'm glad I don't live in that place all the time, but I sure wish I did more often.