I know that many of my close friends are constantly in a state of worry, possibly confusion, about my situation. The situation being my imminent divorce; or lack there of? I don't know for sure. I can't tell you what is happening tomorrow rather than what will happen with Kristina and I. I know that I love her, and care for her more than any person on this earth. I know the mistakes have been made, and the feelings have etched themselves, intruding on my heart and mind. It doesn't change the fact that I believe we made the right choice, apparently just at the wrong time. I will work hard. Life is changing for me - without a doubt.
Have you ever seen "Stranger than fiction?"
I came about watching this movie tonight, alone, and it was such an amazingly awesome choice. Mind you, I had 3 movies that were to be returned to Hollywood Video. And in true Anthony Vaccariello fashion they were 3 days overdue. Nevertheless, I know the extreme peril of taking back late movies. I had wanted to drop them "like it's hot" in the box and run back to my getaway car; successfully stripping myself of any obligation or guilt from my responsibilities. No one wants the omniscient video cashier to pass judgement upon them, and especially not me. However, I decided to walk them inside and peruse the wares once again.
I had just watched two Will Ferrell movies this past week, "Talladega Nights" which I have seen before, and then "Blades of Glory" which was funny as hell; at least it was funny as hell after a 30 minute ski-ball marathon; previous prompt digestion of alcohol - copious amounts of alcohol to be exact. Anyways, I really do enjoy his movies regardless of how many people say they are monotonous and unoriginal. Stranger than fiction. I knew it was a serious movie, and since I'm a fan of "real world" fiction (not to say that I actually read books) I brought it up to the counter. I do not carry a Hollywood Video card for a couple reasons. I've lost about eleven and a half of them, and I really don't have an account there. I piggyback on my parents' account, and rack up late fees for them on my behalf. Again, refer to earlier in this blog.
Once at the counter, the clerk asked me for ID and I pulled out the ::cue illustrious strings and horns:: military; activeduty identification card. The cashier looked up my account; my parents account... and informed me of some late fees which had just accrued. I acted abhorred, surprised at the possibility of the account having late fees, but continued on with acknowledgement by the universal head nod. "Sir, since you're in the military I made your late fees go away, and this rental is free. Thanks," chimed melodically through the clerks mouth. I might have let out a thought in word form.. something along the lines of "SCORE! Thanks man!"
I watched it. It was good; really goodlooking. It was a well-written movie, and it changed my life. I can't actually explain why it made mountains out of molehills for me, but it did. It did this well too. It made me realize how much writing can change a persons' life. It made me see how much a few hours of words and sentences remodel the way you think. No, it wasn't how the matrix made you try to bend every spoon you encountered after the sixth time you saw it in theaters; before it made its way into second-run cinemas.
I want to change peoples' lives. I want to turn a new leaf - even if it still means riding the same tree. The army will always be the backdrop; at least until 2011 - but I want to do something now. Something, anything, everything, [pick-a-word]thing.
I have a family to look after. I feel obligated and responsible for this family in the two weeks I will be/have been in town. Every single friggin' time I leave the house, I seem to rush out and slam the door behind me. This causes a reaction. It scares the living hell out of me. Pretty bad. This is why. It seems a couple of robins have found the wreath outside our front door, on the brick wall, a suitable nesting area. They are starting a little family of their own. They take turns incubating their eggs, and us clumbsy humans come storming through their living room several times every day. Normally the parent bird charged with babysitting freaks the hell out and charges out of the nest once the door slams. Not tonight though; tonight I walked outside to get my phone from my car, and slammed the door once again. I disregarded the fact that my little neighbors might have been sleeping. Once I returned to the door I noticed the bird was in the nest, tending to its eggs. It was steadfast, and on edge. I creeped slowly back to the door, and opened it quietly. As I carefully closed the door, I peeked my head out, "I'm really sorry. I'll mind the sleeping children next time. I am very sorry."
Don't ever be afraid to say you're sorry.