Deal With It

I watched Stranger than Fiction for the first time tonight.  It was fantastic.  It just moved onto my list.  It was fairly predictible, but I was alright with that since the commentaries on life have become more and more predictible as I've learned about natural and literary symbols.  Nice, but boring.

As I watched Harold die, he is the protagonist of Stranger than Fiction, I came to two realization.  As the movie ended, I suddenly wanted to go outside and pound on the punching bag.  I had already done so early this day so I was tired, but it felt like the thing to do to make me feel better.  For me, fighting is one of the greatest ways to live.  The combative competition and my body reacting as quickly, powerfully, and accurately as I desire it to do so.  The control and sensations of muscles straining, tendons stretching, and pain awaken an often slumbering part of me.  And very little of fighting is physical.  I have never lost a fight I knew I would win.  That might sound silly, but every fight I have lost, I knew I was going to lose before it happened.  Watch Hero, I hope it makes more sense.  And the same benefits of fighting with my fists is achieved when I fight with other parts of my body, most commonly my lips, most commonly used in seduction or debate.  It's all a combat, just different rules.

I suppose it was not a realization, but another confirmation that I do not cry at death.  It bothers me in no way.  Honestly, it never has confused, scared, or disarmed me; I am not this way because of my faith, but because of my experience.  Death is not the worst part of this life.  I am incapable of mourning the eternal happiness of another.  And it is selfish of me to mourn for my own loss.  At a much too young age I was subject to pain indescribable; a pain that changes an individual.  No one dead is subject to that, so the only emotion I can feel for the dead is jealously.  And then (but only the first time freshman year) I realize that for every moment of physical or emotional pain I have endured, I have received happiness ten-fold from friends, family, and by existing.

One of my favorite scenes in Firefly is in one of the un-aired episodes where an old friend of the Captain and Zoe shows up dead.  Shepherd is walking past the casket and comes upon Jayne, who is working out.  Jayne asks the Shepherd if he'd like to do a couple reps and that he, Jayne, would spot him.  Shepherd declines and Jayne continues saying that if he killed a man in a fair fight or a man wanting to start one he had no problem with the man's death.  But this death made him feel...like he wanted to work out or be with a woman.  Shepherd responded that he understand, Jayne sought to feel alive when in the presence of death; he sought to simply acknowledge his five senses and prove he was alive.