My “Every Weekend”

Every weekend, or I mean every Saturday, is the same exact story.

Wake up, shower, breakfast, SAT prep, writing essay after essay of uninspired ramblings in order to justify to the college board that I can manage to balance a decent argument deviated from philosophical questions, take the bus (or in this case the “micro” home), lunch, work out, look at people’s Facebook photos, write a few words here and there, play Fifa, procrastinate on my film watchlist, hear the girls from the apartment downstairs shout and sing as they “party” with their friends, and regret every unsent message to the countless people who I wish I were talking to.

The White Ribbon (2009)

It’s a cycle, a circle dance, something just like the one seen by the children in “The White Ribbon”: tired and abused by their conservative teachers made them commit random acts of violence and vandalism as signs of protest towards their miseducation. My life operated in a very similar way.

A few hours from when I first wrote this I was supposed to break this cycle, give a purpose towards the end of the day, and therefore leave behind my naive solitude. Such thing was supposed to stop me being like another one of those repetitive characters from a Garcia Marquez novel.

It didn’t because it never happened.

I’m still dumbfounded on how similar I’ve become to these useless souls I’ve criticised so much, the so called Excellent Sheep. I’ve talked shit about the system, about the way things are structured, how they work and everything in them, while in reality this contempt will never satisfy me. You can’t criticise forever, eventually you should provide a solution to the problem in hand.

This cycle does has its advantages though. I’ve lost over 8 kilos in a bit over a month along with a great deal of my body fat (I’m running a 10k every week in the process of training for a 21k). Back in June I finished a screenplay in less than three days. Sure, it was a first draft, but regardless it’s still a draft, and last summer I was able to watch over 50 films. But this crisis leaves me with things wanting out of others; countless undone activities and brief moments of regret.

I’ve sat on that bus for seven years looking for a blind chance, and I found it the day you closed your eyes.

Death and Glory, IMO the greatest punk rock song ever written.
The Card Cheat, another great song from London Calling.

As all these things come back to me, I can’t help to go out and run and continue to listen to London Calling by The Clash, especially Death or Glory and The Card Cheat, and as I do so I can’t help to remember how much I haven’t matured as a teenager. This is something I see as a blessing, but also a curse. I’m afraid of the future, of death, of the consequence of glory, of wanting to escape the cycle once and for all, of taking a risk, of acknowledging that I’ve lost great deal of my creative talent to these SAT essays, but at the same time I’ve discovered that not everything will be made of pretty words and cool semantics. The Clash at the moment is the main band that reminds me the most about what it is to be alive, what it is to be a person, a goddamn human being.

I’ve already mentioned how music controls the way people act and interpret a specific moment in their lives. I haven’t really talked about my own experiences with it. I learned to play guitar for many reasons, one of which was to learn to play Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd (quite possibly my favorite song of all time). Ever since that summer in 2012 everything revolved around music. Bands like The Beatles, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Radiohead, Nirvana, Muse, Soda Stereo, and now The Clash are the reasons why I act the way I do. I can never get enough from these songs, and I can’t listen to them all at the same time.

I’ve spent countless hours trying to communicate all these things I get from both music and experience through film, or at least through film literature. The problem is that I just don’t know how. Self discovery and desperation are themes that have been done to death: Taxi Driver, Lost in Translation, Y tu Mamá También, Pan’s Labyrinth, Solaris, and many others. If I’m looking to tell a story with this type of meaning, but such thing is next to impossible to turn originally now.

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