(By the way, if you haven't seen Lost in Translation or Garden State, you might want to skip the paragraphs when they get mentioned. There are spoilers.)

"There are highly intelligent people who spend their lives trying to figure out why they can't do things instead of just doing them." -Mrs. Reynolds or Dr. Dan Murphy at Graduation (I can't remember who, and it's not a verbatim quote, but you get the drift).

That is probably the single most useful thing I've heard at a graduation. Not so much that it's new to me, but because it hits home. I think I have a sort of midlife crisis at the age of 18. Or rather, I've had it. Maybe it's a midlife wrapped in an existential wrapped in green and yellow kwanzaa paper crisis.

At any rate, that's the best way I can think to describe it. It's as if my fatalism (ie, knowledge of the inevitability and finality of death and its eventual encompassment of reality) has shortened my entire life into an impossibly short span, thus making any efforts towards any sort of productivity pointless. Instead of seeing my life stretching before me, a realm of infinite possibilities, adventures, real joys and sorrows, I see an outline. I know the story, I know the beginning, the middle, and the end. At least, I've convinced myself that I do.

I really don't understand. I'm afraid. Of many things. Mainly I'm afraid of ambition, of taking action of my own volition for my own selfish reasons. I feel guilty over trivialities. For instance, my uncle (dad's brother-in-law, around my 18th birthday) made a comment about giving me a subscription to Playboy. Now, for those who don't know, my other uncle (mom's brother) had actually bought me one for my 16th. Once I ascertained what it was, I actually gave it back. So, when prompted again, I responded in a semi-indignant manner. My uncle, an easy-going, funny guy was clearly cowed (we were on the phone). Maybe he was joking, but my other uncle hadn't been so I assumed that this one wasn't either. I felt so bad. I still do, and it happened last Thanksgiving!

I can't relax! I feel guilty for not doing something "worthwhile", but for whatever reason, call it sloth or lack of motivation or an idea of futility, I won't do anything. The only time I work is when I'm stressed and when I'm not working, I feel guilty. The only way to alleviate this is to either put myself into a position where I can't do any work so I won't feel guilty or to delve into an escapist outlet where the guilt is blocked. That's my mental condition. I've actually considered getting a job I don't really need just so I could obtain some peace of mind.

So what am I supposed to do? I know I'm not alone. In fact, there are plenty of movies out recently (probably books, too, that I haven't read) that deal with this sort of listless, wasted existence. For instance, Garden State. One would think I would connect with the movie, because it takes someone whose life is monotone and teaches him that there is genuine color. But I don't. Because finding the illustrious "spirit" is not as simple as getting off a plane and going back to a girl you fell in love with three days ago. That's where Lost in Translation and Garden State differ, in Lost in Translation Bill Murray leaves.

There's also not so much a sense of finality in Garden State. I suppose it appeals to teens because they find their lives monotonous and contrived. Then here's spontaneity and life. But in Lost in Translation (and, to a similiar extent, The Life Aquatic which I saw tonight and prompted this rant) Bill Murray is defeated. His life has reached its climax and now its downhill. In each of those movies, Murray has periods of excitement and novelty, but they end in a sense of melancholy because those experiences are only brief flashes in the darkness. In Garden State, the journey just begins.

So I guess I have the Murray mentality. I'm defeated before I've fought. I want to get energized, I want to stand up and yell "Today, I am going to be the bombastic, benevolent entity I imagine. Today, I am going to make my life a story worth telling. Today, I will have color."

But I don't. Because no one faults you for not achieving. No one is angry at you when you don't do anything worthy of blame. You coast through, attempting to be inconspicuous at the least, briefly enjoyed at the most. For this is their existence, not yours. You missed the battle and lost by default. They don't know they're fighting.

I need a rebellion.