Journal

Yeah Yeah Einstein Jan 30, 2015

by Erin Pike

Cineastas presented two worlds implying a third, that third one composed of a romanticized version of humanity and self-reflection (or self-absorption, depending on your mood).

My mood was kind of nostalgic and sappy and sure, self-absorbed, so I clung to a few moments as if they represented some type of sexy truth about my life that no one else knew.

Particularly relevant was a deeply-buried memory of how my first job ever was working at a McDonalds. The reason this memory came up will be pretty damn obvious about 30 minutes into the show.

So yeah I worked at McDonalds, I was 15. And you what know the exceptionally shitty thing was about that? I interviewed and didn't get hired. I didn't get hired at a fucking McDonalds. Like I was such an unforgivable waste of a human at that age that even McDonalds was like, "pass." 

Luckily, my friend's parents owned the local franchise so I told my friend's mom and she made a phone call and boom, I had my first job and had to wear a goddamn awful polo and highwater pants (cuz it's all I had) and special non-slip shoes and a visor. A fucking visor. That job was horrible. But I had to do it. I would get crippling anxiety the night before every shift. So bad I'd be hunched over thinking I was about to hurl but nope, just had to go to work at McDonalds again. Everything always smelled like fry oil afterward. Hands of bleach.

So I was thinking about that a lot during the show.

And then there was this moment in the piece where a dude was roller skating and I thought he did pretty well with that. Rollerskating as an adult is 100% humiliating unless you're really good at it. I went a couple years ago to this little rink and every time I fell down which legitimately hurt like hell, like five teenagers would zip past me, so damn easy. Any time an adult doesn't know how to do something kids do it just fucking sucks (see also, my first ski trip ever, 2014).

Cineastas also made me think of my current job, healthcare. How people act completely different when shit is wrong with them. And yet not, I mean basically they're the exact same good or horrible person they've always been their whole life just now with cancer or an ailment, and they may or may not have people who care about that in their lives. Does an expiration date on life actually cause you to change it up? To fuck like you've always wanted to and love and eat and skydive? I mean, usually not. Sadly, not.

But it's all romantic, the whole thing. Life and how things connect and don't and some people work at McDonalds and that's okay, depending on the person. How our dreams and passions are actually shared with everyone else's, compared and lusted after and yep here we all are still just thinking and dreaming about ourselves. Projecting our own faces and hearts onto a white void, into the seat of that simple black chair.

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