“Call me?!?!?”

I still have poison Ivy, and for those of you who didn't know that... I got poison Ivy and it sucks. It is no good being itchy and gross (I promise those adjectives are no exaggeration.) My new source of enjoyment while misti sleeps and I itch is movie time. Tonight I just finished watching Doctor Zhivago (I really think I want to read it soon, but it’s not top priority on my list of things to do.) The movie was 4 hours long, and once I got past all the actors having british accents yet being distinctly Russian I was able to see how very beautiful it was. It was touching and brilliant but it was so sad. It’s almost bitter in its approach to love, but bitter in the way of a blind man receiving sight, feeling the heat of the sun on his new eyes… seeing for the first time the light filter in red through the eyelids and half a millisecond before opening them for the first time and the world suddenly and eternally goes to pitch blackness.

(SPOILER WARNING)
I am convinced Zhivago is the Russian Sisyphus who comes so close to love but in the end the boulder rolls back on him crushing him at once. This movie (probably book as well) is one big oxymoron after another – its hopeful bitterness in its finest form, Boris Pasternack is truly a master of heartbreak. Poor Zhivago, his heart was too big for his own good (metaphorically speaking) and as a result he could never truly love for he loved too much. Just when you think he’s going to get the girl or die in a drunken heap lost and alone, ol’ Boris turns the screws just a little more, bringing our man Zhivago within inches of one last resolution of love, one touch, one embrace, just one more “ADRIENNNE!!” before he dies, but no. Zhivago wants so desperately to connect, to scream for his love, to break through the walls as his love passes by but all he can do is slowly, mutely stagger to his demise bound and gagged by his failing body as his love passes by on the other side of the glass.

(SPOILER WARNING)
In the end, Zhivago knows love only too well, and is brought to his knees by it - killed by it. I feel no shame in giving away this ending because it is so tragically perfect. In a truly Russian twist of fate, it is the very shock of seeing his lost love on the other side of the glass that finally pushes him into a heart attack where he dies!


(SPOILER WARNING WITH BROKE BACK MOUNTAIN REFERRENCE)
What is wrong with these Russians…? What is wrong with me!!! Why do I torture my poor heart like this? I follow this fool and feel for him even when he is doing utterly contemptible things “for love.” He commits adultery, abandons his wife, abandons his father in law, abandons his Child for his adulterous love, and all I can say is, “I can’t quit you.” I am such a sucker because I want to him to reach his resolution and I watch further in the slim hope that maybe just maybe this is the Russian great who will resolve in some miniscule way this wealth of emotion that he has given… BUT NO!!! He never does and so I’m left feeling dirty and unsatisfied, yet disturbingly pleased with myself like I just got the raw end of a one night stand.

I need to take a shower.