Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Precisely one week to the day, in an uncanny refrain of circumstances, I find myself typing under the influence of Red Bull and vodka again. This time, too, there may be trace amounts of Margarita. Rest assured, though, I haven’t loosened up in the least bit, nor have I become fun-loving. Two points of data do not a trend make, after all. Additionally, I hate fun. Occasionally, I also hate blogging! Today is one such occasion, but firing up the keyboard tonight feels indirectly patriotic, simply because the free flow of adult beverages and the luxury of blogging about inconsequential things are offshoots of independence.

I’ve been hitting the movie theater with greater frequency recently, in part to escape the summer heat. I won’t bore you with reviews, but between Moonrise Kingdom and Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, three guesses as to which one you can safely avoid. What’s been endlessly fascinating to me is the importance of ritual for the average moviegoer. Why do people, for instance, insist on waiting in line for tickets, when these small slips of paper may be purchased from the self-serve kiosks in a fraction of the time? Why is the wholesale consumption of yellow-tinged popcorn so crucial to the viewing process–and, as is often the case, concludes well before the film even begins? It is a cunning pact between the entertainment and corn industries.

These are deep mysteries, to be sure, for which I have no explanations. Indeed, I’m largely content with surround sound and a cool place to sit for a few hours. Sitting, though, is the very habit I must quell, if I am to prepare properly for November. But how to go from zero to three miles, after years of sedentary lifestyle? The answer may be a run to the amusement and back. Carowinds as the proverbial carrot, as it were. I’m thinking of it as a first-world pilgrimage.