It starts gradually, creeping up on its unsuspecting victims with menacing patience. First the signs are so subtle they go unnoticed, then slowly the people begin to sense that something is wrong and it has no intention of stopping. Soon the situation escalates, enveloping all in a whirlwind of negativity and by the time the people realize the full extent of its power, it is already too late. This phenomenon is that which is often experienced several days into a holiday, when a person, suddenly without anything to do, falls into a habit of pure laziness. Unable to even build the motivation to venture to do anything remotely constructive, they spend their days lying motionless, physically and mentally decaying. This is known as, Abnormal Inactivity.
Today, in order to break out of that horrible cycle of destructive passivity, I organized a trip to watch Paranormal Activity 4 with two other escapees. I did not have high expectations of the film having seen its predecessor, Paranormal Activity 3 which had been as imaginative in its contents as it was in its title. A pointlessly teasing and dull cinematic endeavor, complete with characters more two dimensional than a hedgehog on a highway and a plot so shallow that even a suicidal infant would struggle to drown in.
There was, all in all, absolutely nothing that could be referred to as a point to the film. No intelligence, no message, no plot, no moral. If I were to, as a sort of charity, attempt to excavate (by ploughing through what is essentially a mountain of cinematic excrement) some sort of moral out of the film, it would be that no matter where you are; be it your bedroom, your bathroom, your kitchen or your mother in law's cozy suburban house; the place, even if it seems perfectly safe one moment, can suddenly be turned into a war zone so you should keep up your guard.
Therefore, with expectations so low that a legless dwarf could vault over it, I ventured smiling maliciously into the rapidly darkening evening to head for the cinema. Wearing my black gloves to keep my hands snug, my dark long coat to shield me from the cold and my top hat to harass people sitting behind me.
As previously organized, I met Underling Sinister (One of the new girls who entered my school this year. An ever smiling, ever cheerful figure with a scholarly knowledge of the Lord of the Rings trilogy and the darker dimensions of Youtube). She too had spent the last couple of days trapped within the confines of her house, aimlessly seeking mental freedom on the internet. Due to prolonged isolation and lack of proper conversation, she had acquired about herself the atmosphere of a long lost sailor who had drifted lost in the seas (left with no one to talk to other than the fish in the surrounding water and his own shriveled testicles whom he called David and Nicholas) to finally reach shore and humanity one again, decades after his sudden accidental exile. In short she seemed extremely elated to be able to have a conversation and more than a little mentally unhinged.
Third and last to arrive was Doctor Sasha (A polish karate expert with an experience in medicine, meaning he can act as both the breaker and fixer of people. His generally sharp facial features are somewhat reminiscent of either a penguin or an owl, the debate continues.) Finally our trio was complete and preparing to mockingly laugh at a poorly made horror American film, consequently irritating everyone else in the room, we marched confidently into the cinema.
It is common knowledge that there is nothing in the world that cannot be improved with a bit of sugar, except possibly diabetes, hence our natural course of action, having bought the rather overpriced tickets, was to head straight towards the pick and mix stand. There we deliberated our choices for a good few minutes, measuring up weight versus potential flavor and enjoyment. Eventually, after much careful consideration, we collectively bought a packed bag with the same weight and emotional value as a baby.
At this point I would like to point out that I do not usually buy things, my primary source of income is to scrounge and beg, my secondary is to steal, this has been my policy for so long that now the very idea of actually using my own money feels like a sacrilege to some ancient religious custom. However today, drowning in the euphoria of not sitting at home crying in a darkened room, I spent money on both my own ticket and even more shockingly, a portion of the sweets.
As we walked towards the screen indicated on our tickets, the gravity of the situation slowly dawned on me. I had, going against every personal protocol, chipped in to communally buy sweets. The only way I could possibly redeem myself, to be able to ever look my scowling self in the mirror again, was to somehow make a profit on the expense of my two companions.
Screeching alarm bells wailed excitedly in my head, accompanied by rotating red lights for further urgency, in response to this, a cacophony of hurried clattering military footsteps began at every corner of my brain to swiftly merge, accumulate and gather within the section of my mind labeled "mission briefing". In a matter of seconds the soldiers of thought all stood in form and rank, neatly assembled, ready for action. After a moment of disciplined silence, the general, a weather beaten man with a greying beard and broad shoulders, stepped forward.
With hawk like eyes he surveyed the ordered crowd before him, his glare cutting through to the heart of every man present, then opening his mouth, decorated with a well maintained moustache, he announced in a gruff voice, "The mission is to consume as many sweets as possible. We have paid for about a third of those sweets, we must eat at least two thirds to have an acceptable profit. Time is of the essence, I hereby commence Operation Dessert storm." In response a determined roar rose from the crowd as one, ignoring this, the General waved his hand for the projector to plaster a quick diagram onto the wall. Then, hushing those still talking excitedly amongst themselves, he pointed at the picture.
"At present," began the General, allowing his deep authoritative tone to resonate within my mind's briefing hall once again, "The bag of sweets is in the hands of one Underling Sinister. However luck appears to be on our side today, we are currently walking towards the seats with Dr Sasa at the front, our unit, Veritable, in the middle and Underling Sinister trailing at the back(as can be seen in step one of the diagram). Therefore we will inevitably receive the central seat between the two and it is absolutely traditional that the bag of food is left in the care of the individual sitting in the middle." He paused, pointing at step four of the diagram proudly and continued with a tone of strong satisfaction "In this way our unit, Veritable, will gain control of the sweets."
Silently cheering on my good fortune and the excellent work of my brain brigade, I sat myself down next to Dr Sasha, deliberately ensuring that there be an open seat next to me where Underling Sinister would naturally sit. My triumph was complete, either the food would soon be held in the confines of my arms which would make eating them efficiently an easy task or Underling Sinister would choose to hold onto them in which case it would eliminate Dr Sasha from the competition.
Just as Underling Sinister seemed to be lowering herself into the seat however, my hungry victorious eye met Dr Sasha's and a quick flash of understanding seemed to run through him like an electric shock, "Oh no you don't" he hissed at me. Then he called to Underling Sinister, suggesting "come sit next to me!"
A surprised murmur ran through the assembled members of my brain brigade, even the General, for a second, seemed flustered, opening and closing his mouth at this unexpected turn of events but regaining his composure a second later. "Doctor Sasha... A true tactician," he murmured huskily, almost absent-mindedly to himself, "He's turned the situation around for himself from worst to best in a single move. Simultaneously ensuring he is closest the food and our unit, Veritable, the furtherest."
The General abruptly stopped his musing as he realized his men were still standing determinedly, awaiting an order. He sighed a deep resounding sigh, "We've been left with no choice," he boomed mournfully, "Move our unit, Veritable, next to Underling Sinister! We have no other option, its this or give up on the sweets."
Cursing my opponent's quick thinking, I tiredly hauled myself up from the seat into whose silky depths I had sunk, following Underling Sinister in order to sit next to her and more importantly, the food. However quite suddenly, in the already very darkened cinema room, my foot caught on something, nearly sending me sprawling forward onto the carpet floor. I looked down in surprise to see that Dr Sasha had in fact erected a defensive barrier, a border control, in the form of a raised foot, a trap set to trip. I tried a second time, however as I took one step forward to lift my foot above his leg quickly, deliberately and maliciously, he raised his own leg higher.
"Sir!" shouted one of the newest recruits to the mind military, his voice filled with barely contained panic "the enemy has created a blockade! His leg is acting as a reactionary wall across the narrow walking space between his chair and the chair in front! There's no way we can cross!"
"Damnit!" roared the General, "We don't have much time, the film could start any second now!" he paused here, deep in thought, then after a moment he turned to his second in command, talking with slow firm control, "The enemies blockade is predicting and reacting to our movements, correct?"
"Yes sir!" replied the second in command.
Slowly a small smile appeared on the General's ragged features, "This is crazy but it might just work," he paused, breathing in deeply, then "If the enemy is reacting with prediction to our unit's movement, we simply need to take an unpredictable course of action!"
The members of the mind military all slowly looked up, confusion, uncertainty and just a tinge of hope illuminated in all their faces. The second in command articulated all their thoughts with a wavering simple, "Sir, what do we do?"
In response the General's smile transformed into a large vicious grin, he opened his mouth and shouted one word, his voice sending a tangible blast through the room like some form of sonic explosion, "Jump!"
I a third jumped, a third vaulted, a third dived over Doctor Sasha's raised leg. Coat flapping behind me, both legs in the air, I had a second of satisfaction in knowing I had outwitted my enemy. Then the tip of my shoe caught on Dr Sasha's raised leg, tipping my face forward as I rapidly neared the ground. A thinly carpeted floor is still surprisingly painful when it makes contact with your face at high velocity. Nonetheless, with aching features and disheveled tie, I had managed to overcome the defensive lines of the enemy. Shakily I sat myself next a laughing Underling Sinister, deeply exhausted but satisfied in the knowledge that I had avoided the worse possible outcome.
As the film started, however, the other two gradually lost interest in the food, choosing instead to focus on the poorly made horror film. In my mind, the General smiled with satisfaction, this was precisely what he had expected, then barked one simple command, instructing a single move that went against all cinema going conventions set before it. A revolutionary act that broke the fundamental laws of battle but nonetheless brilliant. Slowly I reached across with trembling hands and gently plucked the bag of confectionery from the distracted Underling Sinister.
Holding the multi-coloured sugar coated hoard preciously in both hands, I smiled a wide malicious grin, victory was mine, though the battle had been long and tough, it had ended with my triumph.
Though on hindsight however, the true victor was perhaps the cinema for getting myself and two other hapless teenagers to not only invest in overpriced tickets for a film that turned out to be even worse than its prequel which had been pretty appalling in itself but also to purchase an expensive bag full of diabetes. Well, you win some, you lose some and you won't last long, if you can't learn to focus on life's small victories and ignore the defeats.
On this day, after many years of slow reduction through various camp speech mannerisms, actions and choice of clothing, the last crumbling vestige of what could roughly be referred to as my masculinity departed from my outstretched arms. Gently floating away out of my desperate reach, like my prettiest laced hat in the lukewarm summer breeze (due to my current depletion of masculinity I am unable to fashion a more manly simile).
Nonetheless, I admit that this was another large step towards the crucial wavering borderline of opposing genders, the all important division which I suspect I may be dangerously close to slipping over. Before the eyeliner incident, to regain an average amount of masculinity after all the other tremendously camp things I'd done I would have probably had to spend many months in the gym (the balance system being roughly about one bench press per camp hand movement) plus several mandatory hours of laddish sexism. However taking this new eventuality into mind, it may only be a matter of time, perhaps the point has already been reached, where it is just far easier to make a visit to the sexual organ swap shop than the alternative years of gym attendance.
It has always been believed and upheld that the pinnacle of manliness, the height of macho, is courage and the ability to stand firm in the face of those you fear. This has been true for as long as men have existed from the days of the cavemen facing rampaging mammoths, to the much chronicled image of knights battling dragons and even to today, where the actions of soldiers heading into war are commended and celebrated. Furthermore, one commonly experienced phobia, one terror that many people share, is the discomforting sensation of something pointed and sharp approaching the naked eye. In that sense, the use of eyeliner is the ultimate triumph over terror, the supreme display of courage that surely demonstrates the sheer overwhelming butch powers of whoever undertakes the act.
