Get Used to Disappointment

I occasionally post on another blog, called Cine Geeks. Now, don't get jealous, Inertia-keteers. I save all my really kickass insights for you. But sometimes, if I have something to say that's so nerdy, I can't even bring myself to discuss it with my friends, family and associates here on the personal blog, I'll post it on Cine Geeks instead.

So, today, one of the Cine Geeks, going by the blog name "Adam," has posted his thoughts after catching an early screening of Star Wars: Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. I'll be seeing it in a bit under 6 hours myself, actually, at the sold out 12:01 am show here in Culver City. But that's not important right now. What I found interesting was Adam's, an admitted massive Star Wars fan, reaction after seeing the film.

I'm 34 now, and something that's been a part of my life for 28 of those years is done. And I don't know how to feel.I should be happy. I saw a Star Wars movie and it was good. I saw something full of fantasy and wonder and I'm still saddened.

I'm in mourning now, I realize that. But I should be happy. It's complete. It's whole. The puzzle is now a full picture. But that still means it's over. And that's sad.

It doesn't really surprise me that someone who's a colossal Star Wars nut would feel this way. I mean, they've been anticipating Part 3 of the prequels since these movies were first announced, and that was almost a decade ago.

What I find intriguing is how genuinely surprised Adam seems in his feelings. He's disappointed, but also upset with himself for feeling disappointed. He should feel happy, because the movie was fantastic and good and he enjoyed it, but he doesn't. Instead, he feels this odd nagging disappointment.

I find that intriguing because I feel that kind of disappointment all the time. All the time. Daily.

To me, that kind of emotion is the stuff of life itself. You begin hopeful, finding something that you believe could turn out amazingly well for you. It doesn't matter what it is. A new career, a new apartment, a new friend, a new opportunity, a vacation, or even a science-fiction movie. For a moment, when your dream is first realized, when it actually comes together as verifiable reality, you feel a surge of excitement, euphoria, even joy. And then, once you realize that this single thing, this change you became so emotionally invested in, is just another facet of your life, you feel disappointed. It has happened now, and your life remains relatively unchanged.

Is everyone else walking around not feeling this way? Because just about every time I face something new or different in my life, this is how it winds up. I end up feeling like Adam after Episode III constantly.

Let me give you an example of what I'm talking about, a semi-painful example from my current personal life. I wasn't going to share this story on the blog, because it's mildly embarrassing and, as I said, concerns my personal life, and my general feeling on that is that no one cares to read about that stuff. There are some blogs I like that are in a kind of diary format, and that are much more confessional than Inertia. Hell, Kevin Smith writes on his blog about whacking off and sexing up his old lady, and that guy's famous. People recognize him in public and stuff. I'm just some asshole working at a video store.

So, anyway, I know this girl. We've been spending some time together, nothing too terribly out of the ordinary. And when you first meet someone with whom you connect, there is this same kind of excited, nervous anticipation like when a huge nerd hears that George Lucas will be making a new set of Star Wars movies.

Think about it. You're curious as to where it will go. You're excited at the prospect of companionship or entertainment, depending on how far you want to stretch this metaphor. There is infinite hope for the future, because the movie/relationship doesn't exist yet.

And then, there is that single moment when it seems like everything will come together perfectly. In terms of me and this girl, the moment came two weeks ago, when we spent some time together and shared more about ourselves than the simple pleasantries that make up the standard getting-to-know-you small talk. It was one of those evenings where I felt I had really connected with someone new, as opposed to just passed the time with a friendly acquaintance or good buddy. And I gotta level with you...I don't have that feeling very often at all.

In terms of Star Wars, this moment arrives when the John Williams score kicks in and you see that yellow logo disappearing amidst a field of stars. That moment where you're thinking, "Finally, it's here." The film you've waited to see for years is unspooling before you, you're in the theater, it's happening. For a split second, it's ecstatic, you're directly involved in an activity that makes you feel more alive.

And then it's over. My lady friend goes home, the movie starts, and you see that, even though it seemed unique and special and magical, this is just more mundane reality. I'm once again left alone in my bedroom that's 10 degrees hotter than the geographical center of the Sun. All those hyped-up over-excited kids, teens and 20-somethings see that, after all their anticipation, Star Wars is still just a science fiction/fantasy movie.

For Adam, it seems like this has robbed the entire experience of some magic. The letdown of Star Wars not completing his life in some sort of meaningful way, his sudden and unpleasant transformation from thrilled film fan to jaded film reviewer, has left a bitter taste in his mouth. He consoles himself with the fact that he can see the movie again, and perhaps for another moment, relive that fleeting euphoric moment when the entire enterprise lay ahead of him, rather than behind.

I prefer to see it the other way. We get very few of those exciting, ecstatic moments. Moments in which we feel truly alive. So we should always try to savor them, and not bother with trying to "recapture" them once they are gone.

Which brings me to the sticky issue of my current situation. You see, after really forming a connection to this new female acquaintance, an intellectual bond of sorts, she has apparently cut me entirely out of her life. Oh, we've spoken a few times, and she's offered up a series of reasonable enough if not entirely convincing excuses for why I can't see her...but it's just one of those things where you can tell...She's just not into it any more. It's not gonna happen.

Which is fine, I guess. I've been rejected by a fairly decent cross-section of Los Angeles women, so it's not exactly a fresh and unfamiliar sensation. What I'm saying is, Don't Cry For Me, Crushed by Inertia. I'll be fine.

As I said, it's a pattern to which I feel I have become accustomed. But here's my point! Surely it's not just me! Surely every person feels this way. I mean, I'm kind of a sad bastard sometimes, but I'm not some completely atypical wretch or anything. I know life is rough on all of us.

I mean, honestly, don't you all feel this way a lot of the time? That life occasionally seems to promise them more than it delivers, that no real experience can ever equal the exquisite vision of that experience we have in our minds. So how to people like Adam keep those thoughts at bay? How is it that he approaches the letdown of a post-Sith screening with such innocence and naivete, when I have come to prepare myself far in advance for being disappointed by movies, to the point where my enjoyment of certain movies nearly always comes as a pleasant surprise? Am I expecting too much of life, or are other people expecting too little? Or am I expecting too little of life, and other people are expecting too much? Is there a difference?

[NOTE: I really did consider not running this post, in case the girl to whom I'm referring thinks to read it...But then I thought, this girl's ignoring my actual self in reality, why would she be reading my blog in cyberspace?...Is it possible there would be someone you don't want to talk to, but whose thoughts you still want to read?...So, taking that into consideration, if you are reading, Mystery Girl, what gives? Seriously.]