The Diary of Queen Mothy |
Sam Has Become the Locked Box written @ 9:15 PM on May 25, 2003 Reno family, start your engines. That was the call at 4am this morning. Dad bought us tickets to the Indy 500 a few weeks ago, and today was the big day. I have to admit, I was not looking forward to getting up ungodly early and spending the day up in bleachers while getting my eardrums blown out in the midst of drunken rednecks from all over the United States. But I'm glad I did. You wouldn't think me much of a race car fan, but I have to admit it is something of a guilty pleasure of mine. You could never tell from the way I drive, though. In any case, why wake up at 4am if Indianapolis is only two hours away? Ask my dad. He's like Clark W. Griswold (aka Chevy Chase from the National Lampoon vacation movies) from hell. So we were out the door by 5am, and we arrived in Indianapolis by 6-- Central Time. Boy, I can never tell you how much I hate leaving the Eastern Time Zone. Once all the parades, riff-raff, and introduction of celebrities (such as, Andrew Firestone and Jen from "The Bachelor," former President Bush, Ali, Howie from the Backstreet Boys, etc, etc), and the race actually started, it was some good time. We had some good seats around turn #4, and we could see turn #3 and the main stretch and the pit stops. Ahhh, watching cars taking bends at 200 miles per hour is always a thrill. The drawback to the day? The row of drunks in front of us. Oh, they were nice drunks, don't get me wrong, and they offered us plenty to eat, but they were loud, obnoxious, practically kept lying in my lap, and stood up too many times to piss. I have come to the conclusion that I can't stand people when they are drunk. I tried it, I really have, from my cousin Claudine's wedding to the party a la debachery from the theater department this past spring to this. Oh well. Over all, I give the Indy 500 the Sam Reno Stamp of Approval! I can't imagine going back there year after year, but it's some good times. You get your money's worth. As for the results of the race, check your local paper. I'm more familiar with Nascar than Indy stockcar racing, and I really had no idea who the drivers were, except for Andretti, who is officially retired now. Unfortunately, he did not finish the race; his car suffered some breakdown about 30 laps from the finish. And a French guy won. I think his name was Gil de V...something-'r-other. *** Question of the Day: How many Hugo Weavings does it take to make a Matrix movie? As I found out last night, the answer is probably not unlike the Tootsie Pop phenomenon: so many that the world will never know. This evening, I also give the Sam Reno Stamp of Approval to "Matrix: Reloaded." I went to see it last night on the fly with my bro and one of his hockey friends. I think it was much too intellectually stimulating for my brother's ilk, but I really enjoyed it thoroughly-- in spite of the fact that I didn't see the first one all the way through, too. I mean, I read enough reviews to get the gist of the film, and I still think I really need to go back and watch the first one due some things that I missed, but over all, this Matrix movie kicked ass. Great soundtrack, too. The brothers who created this are either geniuses or crazed madmen. After watching some Keanu Reeves movies and determining each one to be shit in both plot and his own acting abilities, I have now decided that Keanu Reeves has redeemed himself in my book and is coming along just nicely in Hollywood. I enjoyed his character immensely, in fact. Plus it also doesn't hurt that he is absolutely sexy in black. Favorite characters? I greatly enjoyed the crazy Medusa-like blonde dredlock twins ("We are greatly aggrivated..." "Yes, we are..."), the smarmy Frenchman with his wife Persephone (I love bad guys anyway, though), and, most of all, Agent Smith Unplugged! If I keep saying much to my heart's delight, "Mr. Anderson!" just ignore me. Hugo Weaving kicks ass. Anyone who can go from see-all, know-all Elrond of Rivendell from "Lord of the Rings," to the dry-humored albeit oh-so-very-evil Agent Smith deserves two Sam Reno Stamps of Approval. Quite frankly, I can't wait until the third movie comes out. *** In the supernatural department, I've been pondering a lot about the unexpected message Jessica received from Dolan, and-- let's be honest-- I am annoyed. I mean, I had never felt any urge to do any past life regressions; it was more of a fancy of mine, but I never felt any subconscious need to figure out why I am the way I am, or even felt compelled to know for reason. It was more curiosity. I had read a long time ago that past life regressions were mostly ordinary and, quite frankly, boring by a modern day person's standards. But being a history buff myself, I always appreciated them. When Jess and Christine attempted to put me under trances, it didn't surprise me initially that they didn't work. I had always been a bit unready, scared to lose control and succumb to another personality perhaps, or had been too unfocused and ready. Sometimes, however, it had always been like there was a brick wall and some other factor forcibly holding me back. And then that message from Dolan came. And suddenly it all made sense as to why I never had a successful regression. Dolan says I'm locked. Dolan says that I have all I need and will never uncover anything from my past lives. Dolan basically said it was out of his hand and not his decision. Boy, it stung to hear that. Now that it's a matter of me truly not being able to fall into a trance-- as opposed to simply not caring enough to concentrate so hard-- I feel a little lost on my lonely limb. Naturally, we had our theories as to why the Almighty has sealed me off from knowing: We all agree that I possess an unusually old soul dating way, WAY back in history. My thoughts on past lives are that God creates a soul and then sends it through many lives so that it learns everything it needs to know before being worthy of going to Heaven. If this is so, then perhaps it's safe to say that I'm on my last go-around and won't be returning to earth after my life is done. So if that's the case, maybe, as Jess seems to think, you get to a certain point where you can't look back because-- well-- you just don't need to. Or perhaps you've had so many lives that you physically are not able to process them all or focus on one. (The Barrington Theory) The second theory we've had deals with the very nature of what my past lives could have been. (The Walsh Theory) This means I was someone who, perhaps, stimulated so much change in a historical society that to uncover its truth would either a) upset the balance of history, b) fracture God's grand designs, c) inflate my ego to ungodly proportions (so if I'm locked, it's for my protection), or d) stimulate unwanted and unforseen change in modern society by the fact that I "just know" who I was and could use that information to my advantage, which would be cheating fate. Meaning I was probably Joan of Arc, or something like that. *wink* Of course, these probably aren't the only theories that can be taken into possibility. It's very likely that Heaven simply doesn't want me to know, and as this is my last go-around on earth, this life is probably a cumulative test summing up everything that I've learned from my time throughout history, and to look back would be cheating on the test. But, Lord, I cannot tell You how much that SUCKS! Because just like a little kid with ADHD, now that Heaven has told me I can't know, I REALLY WANT to know now. Honestly, what the hell did I do that I've been disconnected from that part of my subconscious permanently? But even that is not the main question now. The main question is: do I continue to prod along with different trance methodologies in an effort to find the "key" to unlock that part of myself, or do I just let go and risk never knowing now that I've been told no for real? To quote Matrix II: "It all lies in choice."
A Bit of History ~ And Onward! L'Amour Toujours! - August 08, 2005 |
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