In Continuum.

The film got me thinking about a lot of things, a lot of possibilities in specific, and none of them are very optimistic ones. The film provided a peak into my possible future, or anybody's possible future really. A kind of future ruled by a single mistake you made in the past, and you are stuck in a position, wondering if what you are doing is the right thing at all. Mid-life crisis, quarter-life crisis, I am approaching the latter at an alarming rate. You know, the kind of blind fear that comes along with not knowing what to do, or being unsure of what you did. It is comfortable to be where you are right now, to be where I am currently, but then it is always a petrifying to think about whether or not this path is the right path, if this road is the correct road. It is a thought that keeps me up at night at times, a thought that probably caused the characters of the film to lose much of their sleep as well. The difference, though, seems to be the fact that I do not have a beautiful girl in a foreign land and sharing the same predicament as myself. It'd be nice though, to drink rice wine late into the night and watch classic old Hollywood movies on television, or to wander the streets of Tokyo after a whole night singing karaoke and running through mazes of pachinko machines. Sounds like a plan, sounds like a poetry. 

It makes you question yourself, and your marriage if you are in one at my age, if you are making the right decisions here, if marriage wasn't just the result of a moment's urge, a stupid decision after a night of heavy drinking. The scariest thought is, perhaps, the fact that you might have been sober when you said "Yes", and that you cannot reverse the process of life anymore. That is not to mention the fear of giving birth, the fear of having a family, the fear of living beyond that...like Charlotte, like myself, I cannot seem to fathom that idea at all. The rest of my life just seems so far away right now, though the rest of my life is really just happening a second at a time. I feel stuck at times, sort of in between things, unsure and in doubt of my actions right now. She graduated from Yale, tried to write but hated her writings, tried photography but thought everything she took to be mediocre. Sounds like an adaptation of my story, perhaps too faithful and honest for comfort. Only, she is married to a man she isn't even sure of, as if the fear of having a family isn't already terrified enough.

So that's the quarter-life crisis, how about the mid-life crisis? I wonder if that is what my parents are going through right now, and worse for the fact that they are not showing any signs of it. Sometimes, I'd rather my parents to breakdown, to scream in anger and frustration that they have had enough of this life, the life they have gotten used to for so long. It'd be a change, it'd be a welcoming sight, but they always seem so controlled and so sure of themselves. It's not pride, or arrogance, and certainly not ignorance. Perhaps, it is a form of contentment, knowing that they have done a great job to raise their children, to put food on their plates, to live a relatively wealthy life in a foreign country where they started from scratch almost seventeen years ago. Then you start to wonder, what you are going to do in thirty years' time, when you are out there on a long business trip and away from your own family, if you are going to not feel the need and want to go back to the bitter life that you lead back home.

It's a sad thing, to not have a home to go back to. To be with a bunch of people and feel lonely at the same time, that is probably the worst feeling in the world. I fear responsibilities, I fear the day that I'd have to carry them upon my shoulders. I fear, even more, for the day to come whereby my loved ones are not going to love me in return, anymore. It is a wild thought, but it is a very real possibility. I am sure there are a lot of Bob Harris out there right now, people with incredible amount of wealth and yet, unable to enjoy their lives as they should be. His wife calls him to talk about which color of carpet she should get, or about trivial matters about their children. His children miss him, but they got used to him not being around on the time, and couldn't be bothered to talk to him on the phone either. It's a sad scene in the movie, after Bob Harris hung up the phone with his wife and then submerged himself into the bathtub, all alone and dejected from the life he's supposed to be responsible for. All of a sudden, the fact that he then slept with the lounge singer isn't very wrong of him any longer. There seems to be a reason behind it, a very real reason, a reason that we are all probably going to experience sooner or later.

Are we all going to end up at fifty years old in a foreign land, that lonely man in the bar alone with his cigar, that lonely man swimming alone in the pool, that lonely man in the sauna eavesdropping on other people's conversation,  the lonely man in the gym on an out-of-controlled brisk walk machine - that lonely man? It's kind of frightening to consider the possibility, but it is very real isn't it. Especially when you find a bond with somebody, that connection with someone else too late in life, when you are too far down the road, you become obliged to say "No", to tear yourself away. Responsibilities, we all are supposed to have responsibilities, becomes life tells us that we have to have those. To keep us in check, to give us a sense of, well, responsibility. I guess, I am just afraid to turn into somebody who is going to make a decision, later on in life, between what is right and what is easy. I wouldn't want to turn into another Bob Harris, but do we have a choice? Do we have a choice?