hollywoodland

No this isn't a post about the sign in L.A. Or the Ben Affleck movie.

I was just trying to think about where the roots of discontent are. Do they start as kernels in my mind, planted there by other people? By books? And more often than not I think they are rooted in entertainment.

I can't count how many movies I've watched (some more than times than I want to admit) that paint a picture of the life I long for. One that includes a Mr. Right, and a couple/few wee ones who are always angels and make life meaningful...or at least comical. And in every one of those movies the right guy comes along at the right time. He says the right stuff, and if he screws up, he delivers the perfect apology.

See the problem with being a writer, or someone who likes to play with words for a living, is that in my head I can hear the perfect script all day long. I say this, he says that. And we live happily ever after. Cause it's a formula like that, right?

But in reality, he says the wrong thing, I say the wrong thing, or I deliver my lines wrong, and I walk away wondering "What the heck..?!"

It's just so hard to find contentment when it seems that pretty much everyone around you has what you're longing for. I know that's not really the case, but isn't that always the way at the movies?