1. 500 words inspired by HER

    I watched the movie HER today. It’s heavy, and sad, and beautiful in a way. I don’t think it’s a brilliant diatribe against the evils of technology addiction, or anything like that. Yes I’m addicted to my iPhone, but who isn’t? I am not apologizing for the fact that my iPhone/twitter is light years more interesting than how your kids are doing, or how your job is going etc. Anyway, HER. I think it’s just another sad story that works because the characters and dialogue feel so real. This is not a movie review, but I think it’s fantastic and you should watch it.

    I think the movie touches on an important point though, especially on a personal level with me. One I didn’t really even consider it until I finished the movie and went to Walgreens to return the blu ray to Red box.

    We all stand in line and turn in our movies one by one. Shit, I bet 5 other people watched HER today. We didn’t even look each other in the eye while we were in line.

    So I go inside. I was checking out, getting some crap for my apartment. Toilet paper and paper towels, namely. This guy in front of me had a little kid with him, begging to pick out candy, bitching about pokemon or something… I don’t know. But this funny thing happened. Another little kid, his age, walked in the front door with his mom. This new kid put his hand on his hip and said “Well, look who it is!”. The two of them gave each other hi fives and then talked for a second in the weird way that kids do.

    I laughed to myself, and thought about how awkward of an encounter it was. Then a girl my age that I know walked through the front door with some of her friends, and I stacked the paper towels on the toilet paper higher so she wouldn’t see my face. I was dreading talking to her, and I know her. I don’t know her well, but we are friendly. I had no reason to not want to talk to her other than I just didn’t want to deal with any kind of interaction. Maybe I was embarrassed to be buying toilet paper. I don’t know.

    But it hit me. I’m more awkward than the little 8 year olds who just saw each other. What age did I go from the little kid who smirks and chats it up with his pals, excited to see them out and about, to the guy who dreads any kind of “hi, how are ya” exchange with an acquaintance? Get a few beers in me and I’ll say hi to anyone I remotely know. But it doesn’t mean anything. I know so many, but am close with so few.