Addressing The Issue

Last night I watched "What Dreams May Come," with Robin Williams and Cuba Gooding, Jr. I like that movie because it explores death and the afterlife and all the unknown aspects of it in an impressionistic way. I think that's what death is like--impressionistic. I like thinking about the journey of a soul from one world to another, transcending reality. Reality to me has always seemed like a subjective matter. A good majority of the time, I feel like I'm living in a dream. Movies like "What Dreams May Come," "The Science of Sleep," and "The Fountain" address my feelings toward mixed reality, surrealism, and death.

I'm not afraid of death. I think of it as just another extension of my existence. I think that when I die, everything will seem no less real than it already does.

I feel like the bonds between human beings never really die, especially the ones forged out of love. I say that based on what I felt when my dad died, and what I still feel today, a year later. I can still feel him and every ounce of selfless love he had for me and my siblings. My sister called me today. She told me that she's been having an especially difficult time handling my dad's death, even after how much time has passed since. When my sister gets emotional, she starts slurring her words, and it's hard for me to make out what she's saying through her crying, but all I found myself telling her was that she needed to keep talking about it. Which is true. She hasn't been addressing the issue, and therefore it keeps popping up like a recurring nightmare. The more she talks to me about it, the better she feels. She has a heart of gold, just like our dad, and I love her so much.

This blog is considerably more serious than previous entries. That's okay, in my opinion. I'm generally a serious person who fights against too much seriousness in his life, but sometimes it's good to express the seriousness when it needs expressing.