Of Boredom, Views, and a Couple of Cruises

April 23rd, 2013

I have this massive boulder in my head. It's made of boredom and disinterest in things to do, things to be done, and things I have done.

Take the movie reviews, for example. I have two movie reviews nearly completed: One is of Regarding Henry and the other of Skyfall. All I have to do is sit for a while at my desk, rearrange the clutter in the reviews, edit some of it out, rephrase a little here and there, and then post!

However, the moment I open one of these reviews, I merely sit and stare. I stare at the screen, I take a good look at the commas in the sentences, and I then let my gaze wander off to the clock at the lower right of the monitor.

It's a simple clock, really. It's not full of fancy, and it definitely has not one jot of allurement in it except for the fact that it faithfully states the time the way it has to. And yet, there I sit and stare at it as if it's the newest invention Apple has leaked to mankind!

Of course, my fascination for the clock has a limit. So, three minutes after I have studied every minute detail of the numbers that look as bored as I am, I am back to my review.  I look at how haphazardly a paragraph hangs in between two sentences and lament about how I should have tied the loose ends before I let lose the subsequent paragraph. I lament about it - in my head of course - and then, as if I have to do it owing to some genetic protocol, I wake up my browser and knock on Wikipedia.org.

Wikpedia.org is a terrific website to land on when you have something, nothing, or a whole lot to do. This particular day, as I battled yet again to complete those movie reviews, I sensed I had something to do, but I also was quite sure I wasn't about to see it to completion. So, I drummed my fingers on the mouse, looked outside my window, saw my curtains flutter in the summer breeze, and typed Judi Dench in Wikipedia's search box.

I read a little about the lovely Judi. I love her work, I love her skill, and I love absolutely everything she puts her hands into. I then scrolled down to her filmography and clicked on Ladies in Lavender. That page drew me to click on Maggie Smith. From Maggie Smith, I went to The Most Exotic Marigold Hotel and paid a visit to Tom Wilkinson. Tom, in turn, took me to Mission Impossible and from there, I went to Tom Cruise's place - sorry, page.



Tom Cruise is a favourite - a personal favourite. I loved The Firm, Minority Report, The Mission Impossible series, A Few Good Men, Rain Man, and The Last Samurai. I even booked balcony seats (way back in the 2000s) for his War of The Worlds. Yes, that movie  made a mess of what was a superb thrilling idea all because Steven Spielberg decided to ape Manoj Shyamalan's Sixth Sense. And yes, I was yawning by the time the film finally rolled out its predictable conclusion. And yet, I did go and book tickets for Mission Impossible.  After all, one teensy weensy flop was not a reason to deride the marvellous actor, and Tom was, and is, an actor of fine caliber for sure.

You know, at one point in time, I thought he will never do anything stupid. And then, a few points in time later, Tom decided to prove me wrong and jumped up and down a rather stupid couch for none other than Oprah Winfrey. Tom sprinted around her talk show set, jumped on the couch, then jumped down, then jumped up and down to the studio doors, pulled Katie Holmes in, and then jumped and kissed and jumped his way back to the couch.

Amidst all that jumping, he declared his undying love for Holmes, became the joke of the year, and gave 'jumping on the couch' a ridiculously new meaning.

Of course, I did not laugh. But the newspapers, television, and everyone else did. I did admit that that was the most nonsensical act to ever appear on television, but yet I did not denounce the fellow.

But now, his views and his affiliation to the Church of Scientology are beginning to grate on my nerves and a loud grating is that! I remember not so long ago, he made it known in no uncertain terms that he did not quite like the idea of Brooke Shields using drugs to deal with postpartum depression. Well, it's not as if Brooke had asked for his advice or had even paid him to tell her what's right or wrong. Yet, the fellow had to open his mouth and strike his foot with his hammer-eqsue tongue.

Quite naturally then, the media followed his example and struck him with its venom as well. One newspaper questioned his need to opine about matters not remotely associated with his physiology, another wondered whether he even had a head to opine with, and yet another bayed for an apology. It was quite a PR debacle for the fellow.

And so, just before the debacle was to take the world by storm, Tom apologized. That made matters even worse! "And now, he apologizes! How typical!" went one wag. "I know! What's the point in saying sorry after the damage is done?!" was another incredulous remark. So, to counter these, Tom had to recite his apologies whenever he had an opportunity to do so. Well, the apology sank in (He even sent a basket of goodies to Brooke Shields!) but thereafter, I took everything the fellow said with a generous pinch of salt...



Of course, Tom Cruise's uncanny behaviour is not the point here. The point is: I tend to stray way too much and miles away from what I set out to do.  From movie reviews to Wikipedia.org to Tom to his behaviour - I wandered a long way.

And I have to stop this rambling. For the world I live in may be meant for an unplanned stroll, but the world that lives within needs a plan, a method, and a schedule to walk through. Else, you never know when what you least expect thinks itself into your way ...