Of Watching ‘The Hobbit’

‘The Hobbit’, made into a wonderful movie by Peter Jackson, has been out for a while now. I have not yet taken myself to the cinemas to watch it. And this, rather interestingly, has managed to surprise a few people — and I admit it, it surprises me as well, when I think about it. But I have my reasons.

‘The Hobbit’ is a book I really enjoy. It might not be amongst the top top favourites that I have, but it is not far off either — and that has something to do with it.

I already have seen a movie of ‘The Hobbit’ — with every book that I read, as my eyes go past the words on the paper (or screen, I guess), my mind creates an image. And that image is my own creation, it might not be something anyone else would like, but it is an important part of the story that I have read. If I were to watch a movie made by someone else, what would happen to these pictures in my own mind?

That is the reason I have not yet seen Peter Jackson’s ‘The Hobbit’, and while I really want to see it — I won’t. At least not immediately. Maybe tomorrow. There’s always tomorrow. Tomorrow might be a better day for ruining the composition that my mind has drawn, and I might have reasons for doing so. But until I feel compelled to do so, I shall abstain.

On Swearing

I saw a few days ago that an acquaintance on Facebook posted a picture which went by the effect that “Science shows that people who swear are most honest in their daily lives”. I offered no comment then, but in my mind a rather prominent question-mark appeared. So, I thought of this…

As a general note on the background, I have to add that this same person does use swearwords as part of his everyday vocabulary, both online and in-person as far as I know. I, on the other hand, rarely do so — I indeed remember a particular instant last week when I did use an expletive with the explicit goal of trying to emphasize my point to the other person, which I believe worked at that time for her first reaction was: “I don’t think I’ve heard you swear before.”

Now, however, to get back on topic: I am very adamantly of the opinion that any use of an expletive in a conversation between two people only serves to dumb the discussion down, and is of no use in building intelligent constructive arguments. That, along with the fact that anything can be very well said without swearing, is the main point that I stick to as much as possible (singular cases like the one I brought out before excluded).

That is also the same critique I apply to most items I read and hear: if they have needed to use expletives to define their own point of view, then clearly something is wrong. Either their statement was too weak in their opinion without swearing or they just feel as if they need to add to it to make it stronger. And that “addition” by default makes me regard the entire point as less, not more.

I would indeed state that I have yet to see a sentence which has improved in its overall value by making it more profane — it is, in short, for me the (first and foremost) sign of an uncultured mind.

A Use of Facebook — What is in Your Mind?

While Facebook certainly has its advantages, consuming time for no real gain is one of the general disadvantages. However, it does work to keep one posted with news (assuming people other than me are as foolish to add ten-twenty newspapers to their news feed so that anything is broadcast at least twice) and with interesting things friends do. Friends, as in FB friends, which does not necessarily need to equal that on any other level. But that is irrelevant here and now.

What I actually wanted to display was an interesting thought I saw. Namely, the following status a friend of mine posted:

“You really love him/her, don’t you?”
A psychological question, no name was mentioned but still, someone came into your mind.

What did your mind do?

The Next Corner… Never Coming?

I know very well that what I’m trying to get at is just behind that next corner in my mind. And yet, I never seem to get there : a chasm in between and no plane to cross it, or something of the kind.

This feeling of knowing what you want to remember being just so very close, but not still not close enough to touch it and say, “Ah, here it is. This thing *exactly* what I’ve wanted to say/think/do/remember.” But no … just reaching for now.

Just the other day, I had the interesting wish to walk to work : which in effect meant that for some odd reason I started thinking of the three poems I know (well, actually, knew) by heart. At first it was clear : nothing would come back to me. A good few hundred meters forward through Eaton Park and I could get a confident grip on the first of these. ‘Leisure’ indeed is not the most difficult, but the part “if full of care” evaded me for quite some time. Nevertheless, in time I managed to piece together everything except the two lines on stars and streams of light.

After that it was the time of that poem of destruction : ‘The Rains of Castamere’, which is quite nice and has a wonderful rhythm. As it went, I got a good grip on that as well though I remembered that there was a piece missing (and I knew three words of it, just couldn’t make it go with anything else) — when I checked it later on, the missing part turned out to be the first two lines.

And then, finally of the three I consider myself knowing, it was time for the Battle of Finnsburgh. Given I am not especially crazy, this restricts itself to the first six or so lines of the damned epic but even so it contains a special thought that I quite enjoy. This, the last one, was painless, and easily remembered. Quite possibly because I have known it for the longest.

Just to test my memory, I thought of the two Tennyson poems (one on the Light Brigade, another on the HMS Revenge) that I could have remembered bits about but with one I got as far as “boldly they rode and well” and with the other that it was rather repetitive.

After that I kind of resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn’t recall much else.

Yet, along with some random (but cool) facts that spring to my mind every now and then, I can easily say that our minds pick up the interesting things which make sense to you personally. I couldn’t remember anything of cars if I tried : yet for some odd reason I have a fair idea of how they built some railways in India and the US and Spain. And this continues through all the topics there are — so let’s stop wasting our times with things we don’t care about, for it doesn’t work out in the end.

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