After a day in absolute pain and dissolution, I sat down this evening to watch "Groundhog Day" for the first time in years. I have to acknowledge Andrea, as she was completely and infinitely correct: it's one of Bill Murray's greatest performances, not to mention one of my favorite movies. In the realm of redemption, it's one of the few plots essentially conveyed with enough taste and enthusiasm to leave me with a resolute feeling of possibility and hopeless romanticism. In this very instant, I'm convinced that I'll wake up tomorrow facing the same issues I dealt with already, plotting merely to tie up all loose ends before the clock strikes six in the morning.
Ridiculous? Yes.
But, honestly, how wonderful is the thought that life is set before us with no determining factors except for the underlying hope that we will bring definitive good to those around us, and will work for the betterment of their lives in order for ours, ultimately, to succeed. I want to fight unceasingly for those surrounding me, not because of what they will provide me with if I do so, but entirely for their own good, and the mere fact that taking care of others is, essentially, the only "right" thing to do.
There is a legitimate surge within me to take action and do for others what I might otherwise deem as an unfortunate waste of my time. How odd that these thoughts are evoked via the medium of film, and one with a helm of downright absurdity at that! Genuinely, I am left with this cynically-diminished grin on my face, with tailored thoughts of exactly how my "infinite day" would be spent. How silly.
How wonderfully, wonderfully silly.
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