Once upon a time...

What happens when you can't keep track of a real diary.

Wednesday, May 02, 2001

I was just thinking about the movie se7en.

I first saw the movie shortly after it came out, while I was still poor, single, horendously depressed, and, if that weren't enough, I was living in the Classen House. I liked the movie at that point, but it didn't affect me too much. I really didn't understand all those people who said that it disturbed them, and didn't want to see it again. I found it fascinating, and enjoyed dissecting the psychology of the suspense and horror.

Now, years later, I am not as poor, married, fairly happy, and living in Colorado. I was sitting here watching the last few scenes of the movie while trying to figure something out on MS Access. When I got to the point when Kevin Spacey is talking to Brad Pitt about his wife, while Morgan Freeman opens up the box that was delivered, more specifically at the point that Brad Pitt's character realizes that his wife is dead, and they flash Gwyneth Paltrow's picture, the bottom fell completely out of my stomach.

That was different, a moment of complete devastation, because, for that one moment, I was imagining that it was Kelly gone, trying to figure out how I would react in that situation. I'm still not sure, I am pretty sure that I would end up like Brad's character, carted off in someone elses car, staring blankly into space. I still don't know whether or not I would kill him. However, I no longer look at the movie, and begin cursing Brad's character for an idiot, 'How could you do that? That's what he wants!'. That doesn't matter, he hurt him, so deeply, logic doesn't matter, justice doesn't matter, the future only matters because it's empty. For him, the only thing that existed right then was that moment. A moment in which he could scream, cry, howl, remember that he would never touch his wife's warm flesh again, and primitively lash out at the thing that hurt him.

Yeah, I am so much more able to deal with physical pain than mental/emotional.