I'm not afraid of dying; I'm afraid of pain, or a vegetative state.

Ugh.

So I didn't see Constantine last night; felt much to grubby for the ppublic. Instead I rented Resident Evil II, Hero, and Shaun of the Dead.

Shaun of the Dead wan't as funny as I wanted it to be, but I lovedlovedLOVED Hero. I want to design a unit plan around it, with Catcher in the Rye, and Joseph Campbell and The Oddyssey and talking about heroism and antiheroism! It would be SO COOL.

However, about 8 minutes into the film the subtitles turned from English in Spanish and I was freaking out, asI understand Cantonese (or Madarin, whatev) not at all, and only a little Spanish. But I switched to English for the Hearing Impaired, and it was ok. That fight in the forest -- man, that was just gorgeous. It was just a wonderful film.

I meant to say something about people dying and being gone. I think I've mentioned before I have a- I don't want to say bad reaction- but a reaction to really old things. I get vertigo if I'm alone in museums. My favorite bar in NO is hundreds of years old and I get dizzy and queazy walking down the stairs. It's overwhelming to me to think that hundreds or thousands of years ago, someone just like me or someone I know walked down those stairs or played with that doll in the case or walked past that frieze. There's some sort of connection with the rest of the human race, past and present, that gives me the spins.

Bev, it is up high, and now we're investing the money we set aside to repair it into an entertainment center with the slots for the bits and pieces up high, instead of underneath, the TV.

I had -- not a dizzy reaction -- but this weird fugue state in a museum in London, where there was a wall inside the museum that they had built around and included in the musuem's makeup that was one of the preChristian walls of Londinium. I just leaned against it (probably wasn't supposed to) and thought about all the people who has leaned against that wall in the exact same way -- Roman soldiers, hookers, vegetable sellers, beggars, theives, statesmen, priests -- for centuries and it just was one of the quietest and largest moments of my life.

I watched Shaun of the Dead and Harold and Kumar on the Tivo last weekend (or the weekend before) I loved both, but H&K was slightly funnier, or slightly more the kind of funny I was looking for.

This weekend was Garden State and Friday Night Lights. Not quite the same mood. Especially FNL, which is one of the only movies where I kind of wish they'd Hollywooded up the ending a bit. I'd read the book, so I knew what happened, but I was kind of hoping Permian would win anyway in the movie. Billy Bob was really good in it too. His Gains was a perfect HS football coach instead of the overly sainted or evil coaches in most movies. Dad was neither, and I've never been able to properly explain to Mr. H what that sort of pressure and uncertainty was like.

Erin has a new tag.

I thought about Harold and Kumar but it seems like the kind of movie that it's better to watched when you're actually stoned, you know? And I was in an action-movie mode last night.

If Hero had had one zombie, I would have had a major theme going.

Oh Erin, I'm right there with you. I fear death not at all, but lingering, or pain? I'm a little frightened thing cowering and pleading, "No, no, no, no!" I am frightened of a painful dying.

Heather, I understand what you feel, and I can't help but believe that there is something, some molecular-level memory that lingers--call it ghosts or spirits or whatever you'd like to name it. So many people experience things like this, or past-lives. Personally, to make it fit into my own belief and philosophy, I tend to think of these experiences as leftover bits of consciousness; when the life-spark returns to the whole at death, mingles with it and then is portioned out into new "containers", new beings, parts of previous experiences may linger. I think this is why such past-life memories tend to be fragmentary.

But this is a retro-fit sand and spackle job of a theory, and merely for my own consumption. I do think memory lingers, whether in the objects that were touched and used by people now gone, or in the air, or some invisible world existing in the same physical space. I just know I'm singularly unreceptive to any sort of paranormal or occult phenomena. I've had no experiences of that type, although I do believe other people have them, and I remain open to them.

I had -- not a dizzy reaction -- but this weird fugue state in a museum in London, where there was a wall inside the museum that they had built around and included in the musuem's makeup that was one of the preChristian walls of Londinium.

Yep. Freaky. To me, later when I can remove myself emotionally from the feeling, I think it's cool. In the moment, I'm a little scared and overwhelmed.

I had to be rescued from the ancient Chinese section of the DMA because Mr. H didn't believe me that it freaked me out.

Charlie Brown is on the pitcher's mound looking pretty unhappy.

Charlie Brown: Nine home runs in a row! Good grief! What can I do. We're getting slaughtered again, Schroeder. . . I don't know what to do. Why do we have to suffer like this?

Schroeder: "Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward."

Charlie Brown: What?

Linus: He's quoting from the Book of Job, Charlie Brown, seventh verse, fifth chapter. Actually, the problem of suffering is a very profound one, and . . .

Lucy: If a person has had bad luck, it's because he's doing something wrong, that's what I always say!

Schroeder: That's what Job's friends told him. But I doubt it. . .

Lucy: What about Job's wife? I don't think she gets enough credit!

Schroeder: I think a person who never suffers, never matures. Suffering is actually very important.

Lucy: Who wants to suffer? Don't be ridiculous!

Schroeder: But pain is a part of life, and. .

Linus: A person who speaks only of the "patience" of Job reveals that he knows very little of the book! Now, the way I see it. . .

Charlie Brown: Good grief! I don't have a ball team. I have a theological seminary!

Buffistas: Sometimes? We're a theological seminary.