When I was young and younger, I hated any fireworks louder than a sparkler. Couldn't stand spicy food. Hid from horror novels. Scorned violent movies and the people who loved them. Now I'm the one who adores BOOMS that make my ribs vibrate, pours Tabasco sauce on everything from grits to gravy, watches spooky stuff with a grin and a pleasurable shiver. And I saw The Bourne Ultimatum yesterday and loved it. (If you've been reading along in this blog, you already know that I think there are few movies than cannot be improved by a velociraptor, or two.)
Maybe all my senses have dulled, and that accounts for the dramatic change? Maybe it just takes more to get me to hear it, taste it, feel it? That might actually be true when it comes to taste. But my hearing's fine. I can still hear whispers and I still love a good sweet love story. No, there's just something in me that actually enjoys some kinds of intensity more than it used to. I don't know why.
I was thinking, yesterday, while I watched car chases and gunfights, how wonderfully cathartic those kinds of movies can be. And how happy I feel when I leave one that I've really enjoyed--like all three of the Bourne movies. It sure doesn't make me want to go out and shoot somebody, or even argue with people.
If there's a larger point to this little post, I have no idea what it is yet. I guess I'm interested in learning how this strikes you according to your personal experiences.
And if there's nothing really here to talk about? Ha. With this crowd, there's ALWAYS something to talk about, "praise the lord and pass the mashed potatoes," as my ol' grandpappy used to say. But put a little Tabasco on them first, please.