Jul 5, 2006

Day 6 (Retroactive)

It has been stated here previously that I can be a bit obsessive. And I recognize that this is one of those times.

I saw Pirates of the Caribbean ten times. In the theater, that is. I have absolutely no clue how many times I've seen it since--without the ticket stubs to help me keep track, I flounder in the volume of viewings.

Suffice it to say, it was a lot. I saw it so much, and became so defensive about how much I liked it, that I stopped enjoying it. See, I had vision. Back when it was first previewed, and everyone said "Yikes, what the hell is Johnny Depp thinking?" I said "WOOOHOOO! A pirate movie with Johnny Depp and that chick from Bend It Like Beckham and Orlando Bloom and Geoffrey Rush! Who's coming to see that with me on opening day?"

I was all alone. Even my parents, who are huge fans of the ride, were all "ehhhh, it looks stupid." Of course it looks stupid. It's a Pirate Movie.

And of course, once they finally saw it, they became equally obsessed. (Well, maybe not equally, but obsessed just the same). But for some reason, everyone felt the need to attack the weaker parts of it, and say that it was all about Johnny Depp. And I became incapable of just watching the film. I had to sit there--even when I was by myself--and mentally defend it.

"No, Orlando Bloom's hair is not greasier than the underside of a car in that last scene. Or in any other part of the movie. It's just...damp. With sea spray."

And so forth. And even when I wasn't defending it, I was trying so hard to concentrate on my favorite parts so as to get full enjoyment out of them that, of course, I hadn't laughed once in the last dozen or so viewings. It was pathetic.

But there is a (somewhat) good reason for this. The summer of 2003, I was a broken-hearted wretch. There was no joy left in the world for me. (Looking back, of course, one wonders why said dumping made me sad as opposed to overjoyed at my brilliant escape, but one can never see these things at the time). And then my sister and I went to see Pirates of the Caribbean, and for a glorious 143 minutes, the world was a hilarious, exciting, and magical place.

A week later, I went to Denver for a month. That was one hot month, man. I hate Denver. And I hated the world, and cried a lot. Except for when I was in lovely air-conditioned movie theaters showing Pirates of the Caribbean.

That movie was my savior. I would go in for a quick fix (in the grand scheme of fixes--I recognize that it's kind of a long movie), and I'd be able to get through the next couple of days. And eventually, I realized that other things in the world were pretty cool too--like New York City, for example. (I will never like Denver). And I realized, Hey. That guy's kind of a dick.

Sure, I lost the enjoyment of Pirates for a while. I got it back. It's all good.

Happy, The Wrens

Will: Where's Elizabeth?
Jack: She's safe, just like I promised. She's all set to marry Norrington, just like she promised. And you get to die for her, just like you promised. So we're all men of our word really... except for, of course, Elizabeth, who is in fact, a woman.
Barbossa: Shut up!

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