I’ve watched a lot of movies this month. As of writing this, I’ve seen 26 (!!!) in the month of January alone, with time to spare. I probably watched close to 300 last year, and, seeing as I have an AMC Stubs A-List subscription and an unquenchable thirst for stories, I plan to see a whole lot more.

As I said, I love stories, in all forms: Literature, television, music, poetry, film. In fact, I love it so much that, as I’ve grown older, it has become more than a means of connecting with the world around me. It’s become scholarship. In an effort to marry the terms of which I receive a piece of art and the terms of which a piece of art has been composed, I’ve achieved a state of self-awareness in experiencing movies that has almost completely removed me from any form of catharsis. It’s become metatextual allegory, shot composition, and theatrical nuance. It’s less felt and more understood.

Now, I’m not here to make a sweeping indictment on the intellectualization of filmmaking. I think it’s constructive to able to verbalize what moves you. However, I think in the process of attaining that language, I sacrificed the very sensation at the basis of it.

So what? Right?

Well, much like in storytelling, movies aren’t just movies. None of what we do exists in isolation.

As I proclaimed in my last post, I’ve made it my mission to exist in and appreciate my present circumstances. To ensure that my time at PV, the home I grew up in, and my proximity to my family don’t fade into the distant archives of my (admittedly terrible) memory without acknowledgement.

Well, that’s a great thing to say out loud! It appears very well-rendered and sentimental, but to me it reeks of self-regard if it exists outside of practice. I’ve become very good at (not-so) simply saying things, great even. In fact, I’ve committed thousands of dollars and years of my time to the study of human behavior and psychological theory in hopes of intellectualizing emotion, but my pursuit of psychological well-being and health equity appears a bit glib if that’s where the buck stops.

Earlier this week, before class, I was doing my rounds in the psychology department: catching up with classmates and stopping in on some of my professors. As I passed by the office of my lab director, Dr. Salami, I greeted her with an automated, but cordial “hey, Dr. Salami!”, and maintained so much momentum as I continued down the hallway that I wouldn’t be surprised if I appeared to her to be an afterimage. Fortunately, she stopped me, she asked me about my day and how my semester was going. She did this with such sincerity that I had no choice but to shut off the internal metronome that keeps me ticking just above the surface. I reflected, I was honest, I felt. For the first time in over a week, I acknowledged the weight of my earlier proclamation, the propensity of life to pass you by (shoutout Ferris Bueller once again), the importance of making a concerted effort to remain grounded.

Hopefully you take that (or anything here) to heart. Hopefully I can be to you what Dr. Salami was to me, as I encourage you to earnestly connect with the world around you. To go beyond the text of what you do. To go discover and re-discover what moves you, and give yourself over to it.