(NOTE: This is a post I wrote on my old blog a couple weeks ago whilst watching Annie Hall. It covers a lot of my writing topics and styles, so I chose it as a first post for this new blog, RUWF).

There's something about Woody Allen movies that give me a great sense of comfort, and I find myself at a loss as to suggesting why this is. One might say that I think like Woody Allen, and I enjoy the narcissistic ideal of watching somebody like me make love to someone like Diane Keaton. However, I'm neither neurotic nor explicitly nervous. On the contrairy, I find myself incredibly comfortable in my own skin (as a matter of fact, it is sometimes my greatest weakness that I can only absolve things through my own mind with limited idea as to how others may perceive it).

The only reason I can possibly devise in watching Annie Hall is that it is a warm sense of comedy that is both light-hearted (not Pixar but more Garrison Keillor) and tragic ("in the end, we all need the eggs."). Allen, when he speaks to the camera (as in the dinner scene), he makes you feel as though you are his world.

I do, perhaps, find some solace in the comparisons I could make between Allen and myself (I make no statement saying that I am anyway as or even near talented as Allen; he is a god). His love for Freud, his snide remarks as a working of self-defense, his weird association with other people's families.

Just a note from Allen: "Don't knock masturbation; it's sex with someone I love."

Perhaps I want to be Woody Allen. Completely possible, as I've dreamt of being other people (Chuck Klosterman, for instance). The dark intimacy of Annie Hall makes me want to live where my only trouble is deciphering Annie's dreams about Frank Sinatra and trying to fail at tennis. I need a carefree life, which, despite what it may seem, Alvie Singer has. He may seem troubled (his neurosis and inability to handle his relationship), yet women troubles are all of his troubles.

I remember the scene where he goes to the concert with the reporter for Rolling Stone. She is incredibly ugly and has no sense of humor, but I can't help but imagine that I could've caught her on the rebound from Alvie. She knows a lot about music and takes really long to climax. She is fucking perfect.

My mom loved this movie (put down your Freud notes; I loved this movie before I knew my mom even heard of Woody Allen). She loved all Diane Keaton movies. Hmm.

One of my favorite scenes in Annie Hall is when Alvie has to run over to Annie's house to kill a spider "the size of a Buick." Before he goes into the bathroom, he says "I've been killing spiders since I was 30." I can't help but think that the spider is a metaphor for women, if not all of life. Alvie runs into the bathroom, only to march right back out: "A really, really big spider," he says. What if we only gain control of life at 30, and even then some troubles might just ask us to run right back out of the bathroom?

Perhaps all I need is someone to sit down in Central Park and make ethnic jokes with.

There's a scene in the movie where Annie is singing in a restaurant. Her voice rings clear next to the Martha-Wainwright-style piano, yet there is constant chatter, spilling dishes, ringing phones, and awful mic-feedback. "It had to be you," she sings, as the world clatters and drains her out. It reminds me of what Trent Reznor once said in an interview with SPIN magazine (I've had NIN on the brain for two weeks, ever since a song was released via a flash drive in a bathroom). He was referring to the end of the song "Hurt", where his voice is lost in heavy, atonal guitar and synthesizer fuzz. Reznor said that he hoped to simulate the world, "that time when our world is louder than our emotions."

Every relationship I've seen end, it was blatantly the fault of one person. Either a lack of communication, a lack of commitment, or a lack of willingness.

Pride kills relationships. A common thing women do is refuse to say what is bothering them. This is furthering the argument beyond reason. What most women (through my experiences, most) do is make an argument about something completely different when they see that they might be wronged. It is a powerful tool. For example, I was once talking with a girlfriend about Johnny Ramone (this was around his death). I said that he was a very untalented guitarist (I should note that this is a powerful opinion in music circles; by suggesting that a punk guitarist is untalented, you are only stating the obvious, but if you do it with reverence, you seem to negate every thing people think about music criticism, that the best are just that; the best). In any case, my denial of Johnny Ramone's talent sent this girl, an avid Ramones fan, into an hysterical fit (by "avid Ramones fan," I'm implying that she had "I Wanna Be Sedated" as her ringtone and loved "The KKK Took My Baby Away"). She asked me as to how I had the gall to deny Johnny his due, and I asked her as to how she had the gall to deny that their are only four original riffs on Rocket To Russia. She then asked me why I always had to be right.

I hate this statement. I do like arguments (or "futile debates", in this case), but I do not always need to be right. If I always needed to be right, I wouldn't argue things that are based on opinion, because there is no "right."

I drifted.

In any case, the issue is that she took a relatively civil conversation (I realize how one-sided this seems) and turned it into an examination as to why I think the way I do, a direct attack on my character. In doing this, she greatly annoyed me and tried to insult me without giving a direct and valid definition as to what I was doing wrong. People, keep arguments about what they are about. You will be shocked what it will do for not only your sanity but your relationships. When you bring up a person's character or behavior in an argument about, say, the merits of Charlie Kaufman (when the both of you are already on opposing sides), then it polarizes and alienates the other person, removing any and all hope of rational discourse.

This does not mean avoid talking about issues that you have with somebody. Quite the opposite, in fact.

I suggest talking about issues as soon as they arise.

Let's say Pat and Taylor are dating. Pat has a problem with the way Taylor talks to other people. As soon as it is noticed, Pat brings it up to Taylor. Taylor decides that this behavior is crucial and is unwilling to change it. A sacrifice must be made. Either Pat must put up with Taylor's behavior, or Taylor must stop this behavior. If only one of those things happens, the relationship will continue. If neither of those things happens, the relationship ends due to irreconcilable differences.

Either pride keeps people from sacrificing something or it keeps someone else from putting up with it. Either way, if the pride exists, then civility will not. Pride kills relationships.

A tragic effect of being a young bisexual is that, as everyone is used to you dating girls, and, as you yourself is used to it, you find yourself at a lost at to what to expect when you date the same sex. Living in Central Pennsylvania has not provided me with prime opportunities to meet gay or bisexual men. The only man I've ever kissed, in fact, was at a Static-X concert in Las Vegas 3 years ago. What worries me is that the above complaints about women will not be valid. Normally, people might find comfort in not having to deal with the irrational thoughts of a nervous woman. However, my worry is that I'll have a whole new set of problems with men.

My female friends share with me their issues with men. They're belligerent. They don't talk enough or share what they are thinking. They don't take anything seriously. Some of these issues (in fact, all and more) I've had with women. However, how can I assure that gay or bisexual men will have the same issues as straight men? Are problems really universal in that, despite who you are dating, the same problems will always arise? Is there some nature of universal chart that counts every problem that can be had? And would/does it apply to everyone, no matter sexual orientation or gender?

A few months ago, one of the major advocates for gay marriage (who himself was married under the Massachusetts law that he fought for) got a divorce after only two years. Pat Robertson fought that this was an example of gay marriage being unholy unions. Right, because heterosexual marriages never corrode.