You don't know where I've been Lou!

So I just finished watching Fight Club for what has to be more than the hundredth time, and it does not feel old at all. In fact I saw things this time that I had not seen before. For example, Tyler Durden pops up in the group photo while the narrator is sitting on the edge of the bed at the hotel. How did I miss that!?

I also finished the book for a third time yesterday. Fight Club is a great example of a book and the movie that is based on it being amazingly awesome. Not one time do I think, "that was better in the book." I can note the differences between the two, but never in a way that puts one over the other. The biggest difference between the two is normally noted as the ending, as the book has an entirely different ending from the one in the movie, but I think it has more to do with the book being darker (yes, darker) than the movie. The book is darker, more violent, and definitely a little more disturbing. I like both equally, but it is easier to watch the movie. Mostly because it only takes a couple of hours to finish the movie.

In the movie there are two scenes that really called out to me tonight. The first is the scene where Tyler Durden gets beat by the bar owner, Lou. He starts the scene by wandering through the crowd of fighters and talking about how much of their lives had been wasted. Wasted by marketing, by careers, by themselves. It reminded me of why I left the "career" I was in. I am still in love with the idea of selling books, as I love everything about books. But I could not ignore why I was selling them, and the worth of my job became painfully transparent. I want what I do to matter. I want to matter.

The other scene is the human sacrifice scene. Raymond K. Hessel finds himself on his knees with Tyler Durden's gun pressed to his head and is forced to look at his life, forced to throw out the reasons that are stopping him from being where, and who, he wants to be. He is given a choice; be who he wants to be, regardless of how hard it is, or die. Raymond chooses to live. The question is whether or not it takes a gun to our head to do this. Or maybe a better question would be whether or not we realize that the gun was pressed against our head and we did not choose at all.

Each step is a choice

How strong am I if one little thing can destroy any semblance of reason and order in my life? If one conversation, one event, one person can destroy the tenuous control that I exert on my day, my life... Well how in control was I to begin with? I mean, who the hell is running this show! How easy it seems to give up and wallow in the chaos caused when the unexpected occurs. I mean, I expect the unexpected. Plan for it as much as possible, part boy scout, part realist, mostly just full of crap though. There is no way to expect all of the events that could happen to you in any given day. I guess you only have control over how you react to the unexpected.

The total chaos part seems to happen more often when the event that derails me involves someone that is an important part of my life. Or was an important part of my life. Or impacted my life in ways that I am still realizing. We give a part of ourselves to everyone in our lives, some more, some less. I do not know if in giving of ourselves, we lose some of the control we have on our life. The more we let someone into our life, the more they can then exert their own control on it. How do you get it back? How do you get back what you give away?

What do you do when one of the eventualities that you had planned for happens, and you are stuck just watching? Just sitting on the outside, left trying to figure out where you missed another chance. I figure that it is not actually worth worrying that much about. I know that I tend to blame myself for far to many of the "setbacks" that I suffer in my life. I suppose the I should remember that the events and people in my life only have the importance that I give to them. The level of importance can change, and often does.

I somehow forget that people actually decide things without my input, without me in mind, and most of the time without even thinking of me. Which is fine. I am only one person. One fine, fine person.