Neither Parallel, Nor Perpendicular

Watched Indian Jones and the Last Crusade tonight, with group, after some tandem video gaming with Jonas.

(I'm still working on Morrowind, which after 30+ hours has devolved into random fetch quests, while he's started the beautiful Beyond Good and Evil. Thank goodness for multiple televisions.)

The movie was good, although I didn't correctly remember a few lines Graham and I have been (mis-)quoting for years. We've said "got lost in your own library, eh?" almost as often as "let's roll."

Maybe this is a sign that I need to be more original. I do hate easy jokes, and despise myself for making them. And the others? Well, I'm a little easier on the others.

I fell into the old rhythm a bit while I was around my little brother during break, but I think I've been good about avoiding overt Simpsons references and the like while at school.

Though I will make jokes that are obvious and unfunny on occasion just because they're there, right there, and everyone knows it. Jonas, at least, seems to understand the temptation. He's thrown a good-natured curse my way after certain exceptional duds.

Well, that sort-of joking is different. Ironic. And less habit-forming than recycled humor.

Gads, when did I decide to be "jokey"? I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that.

This. I need to consider it.

(These are the all-singing all-dancing antecedents on parade.)

Speaking of idiocy, I also mistook the Grail guardians for Italian blackshirts.

I was trying to convince my dad recently that I had a poor memory; Eternal Sunshine, a great movie everyone seems to have seen Saturday, only reminded me how few scenes from the past I can conjure up. And now I have proof.

I must have seen The Last Crusade a half dozen times. It's on TBS all the time, so I'm sure I've seen it within the past year.

I'm working on a conspiracy theory in which the copious amounts of ginkgo I took as a teenager have addled my mind in some way. Hoping to connect it with whoever put gum in my hair a few weeks ago. Someone is behind all this, goes the theory.

I worry that the memory thing, much like every grammatical mistake I make (I start copy editing Tuesday, by the way, and could've started tonight if I'd flaked on the movie), undermines my authority.

It's all about authority, I'm learning. Write with perfect authority, and you can do anything.

Without it, people might take you for a fool. And we'd all rather be knaves, given the choice.

And term three begins.