If you’ve seen the film ‘Stranger than Fiction’ you may understand what I mean when I tell you that I’m not sure whether my life is a comedy or a tragedy. When I first saw the film, which is a brilliant movie by the way, I had decided my life was probably a comedy, bordering on a feel-good movie at times, but I’m getting more drawn towards the darker side of the genres since my unfortunate… fortune of late.
I was a little stuck on the Fantasy genre for a while earlier today, because I thought this really ugly man may have been an orc, and aside from that I don’t really find my thoughts on the matter over amusing. I watched the movie again last night when I should have been sleeping, because I’m a soppy git and I know the right movies to make me feel both better and worse at the same time. And even if I am trapped in a veiled version of the Lord of the Rings, fantasies can be comedic or horrific, so I’m still left trying to judge between the two.
It is possible that I am trapped in some kind of abstract dark comedy, and I say this because I seem to rely on my wit more and more of late when I’m feeling down. Contemplating the series of events that I am not entirely sure I want to write about has left me pretty drained (as usual) but in some bizarre knee jerk reaction to everything that’s happened my ego has overtaken my burned emotional core with layers of smug that I’m not entirely sure I should be feeling. You see, as paranoid as I was a few months ago, reading into situations with what seemed to be delusional leaps of logic, looking back now I can quip to myself, with a twatty little smile, that I was pretty spot on about a lot of it. Just recently, my ability to read into situations seems to have actually improved merely by becoming pessimistic, as it turns out the worst possible situations that you can think of? They’re the most likely.
If I am in a dark comedy, then I am turning into the kind of defeatist protagonist who is only just beginning to doubt everything that’s thrown in his face, and he’s probably well aware that he’s in the dark comedy himself. Oddly, he goes as far as being vaguely amused by the perfect timing of each emotional blow in the story, and he can look as objectively as possible at a situation that could easily be misconstrued at the ultimate burn on him. So when he’s sipping his lemsip and trying to get the taste of sick out of his mouth he can write his blog in a haughty manner and reassure himself that everything around him is likely going to get worse, so he might as well enjoy the good times he’s having now.
I’m sure that tomorrow, when I go to university to hand in my essay they will tell me that, unlike what I was told earlier today by Bob Cotton, the hand in date has passed and I am no longer able to get anything above 40%. Of course, it wouldn’t end there, I would fight to the teeth about the matter until they conceded that it was not my fault that the essay was in late and they would re-mark it… And I would get 34%.
Now, anyone want to take a pot shot at me while I’m feeling low? It’s just that I’m fed up of people trying to delay the inevitable disappointment and pain they will cause me, and I’d rather have it all at once while I’m feeling too sick and lethargic to do anything emo about it.