it's a steady job but he wants to be a paperback writer

I've watched far too much 'Lord of the Rings' this weekend. If Tammy was here, she could talk some sense into me--but I'm safe from her sense-talking, so I gave in to temptation. I watched 'The Fellowship of the Ring' last night while I was transferring files from my work laptop to my new laptop (no, not work-related files, but I had about 20gb of music and photos that I wanted to swap over, which took a not-insignificant amount of time). Today, I had intended to get something done (nothing in particular, just 'something' so that I would feel like a productive member of society), but instead I got out of bed at noon, showered, and turned on the tv while I made a sandwich. Much to my dismay, TNT was running an all-day marathon of the 'Lord of the Rings' movies. I watched a bit of 'Fellowship' while eating a late lunch, then pried myself away around the time they got to Moria because I had an appointment for a facial. When I got back, I watched a bit of 'The Two Towers', then went out and had dinner at Baja Fresh. I was semi-productive when I got home and whipped up a batch of chocolate chip chewies for a cookie exchange tomorrow; but since I can make those in my sleep, this wasn't a tremendous accomplishment. Then, I watched the entire 'Return of the King'. I could have put in my own DVD, which would have resulted in much better quality, but my DVD is the extended version, and so even without commercials it would have been approximately the same run-time.

I always cry at the end of 'Return of the King'; granted, the end lasts around forty minutes, but I'm speaking of the very very end, when Gandalf and Frodo say goodbye to Sam, Merry, and Pippin. There's something about saying goodbye to someone when you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you won't see them again--that type of scene always touches something deep inside of me. It hasn't happened to me that often; in fact, the only time I knew it was forever was when I said goodbye to my grandfather for the last time, on my way back to California at the end of spring break my sophomore year. The other times, it was driven home after the fact that it was the end, or whether or not it was the end had yet to be decided. With both India and Ireland, there was the chance that I would go back, if only for a week or two; and yet with both of those experiences, there are now lots of people whom I realize I will most likely never see again. It's a different sort of sadness than if they were dead; rather, it's an acknowledgement that, regardless of what you have shared in the past, your futures will never intertwine. That type of separation happens all too frequently, even though it's admittedly mitigated by today's forms of communication. I would say it must have been worse to say goodbye to someone 200 years ago, when they were setting out for the West and never returning; but today, if you say goodbye to someone physically but then do not take advantage of phone or email, then you're probably more culpable for the death of that relationship than you used to be.

Maybe the sadness I feel for the lost friendships from Ireland, India, and even high school and college, is not that I've lost touch, but that I never made an effort to keep in touch in the first place, which perhaps says something that I don't want to hear about my openness toward making and keeping friends. I do feel rather protective of myself, which means that while I make casual friends easily, I have a hard time making and keeping those real friends who stay with you even when you're separated by distance.

I'm driven by my need to wander--I've started feeling that old urge again to pick up and move someplace else, even though I've told myself sternly that I should stay put and enjoy my time here. But by indulging my wandering urges, I smother my need for connection; it's difficult to connect with people when you're unsure of where you'll be in two months, and I'm both too misanthropic and too self-protective to keep making friends when I know that all that energy will have been wasted when I sever the ties.

Okay, enough of that! The rest of my weekend was uneventful; I finished my Christmas shopping yesterday, so that was good. Today's facial was probably good for the long run for my skin, although the extraction segment (which I'd never had done before) felt like the woman was stabbing me a thousand times with a thick needle. Actually, it may have been the 'leather punch' implement from a Swiss Army knife--I've always wondered what it was meant to be used for, and now I think I have a good idea. I have no idea what the implement looked like, since my eyes were covered. If the government is really looking for a way to legally torture prisoners, they should subject them to facials, bad massages, and Brazilian bikini waxes (which I've never had done, but I hear are quite painful)--extractions would eventually break even the toughest of men, and you would end up with some detailed confessions from terrorists whose faces would eventually rival our top models and actresses. Needless to say, my skin was red when I left (although not bleeding--so if it was a leather punch, she was v. careful), and so I found it hard to take the cashier at Safeway seriously when he flirted outrageously with me as I was buying eggs for my cookies. Not that I normally take flirtations seriously, but this seemed ridiculous, since I was wearing swishy pants, no makeup, and tortured skin.

So anyway, that's the price we pay for beauty, right? My skin does feel v. soft and the redness has subsided, so I may start going more regularly--although I don't like being preached to, and the aesthetician/face-stabber was horrified that I don't exfoliate twice a week. Oh, well, we shall see. Now I should go to bed--it's a short week since I have Friday off, and I leave Friday night for the home of my forefathers! Goodnight!