The Big Lebowsky is a film I watched the day before submiting my dissertation. Could it be a more perfect time? While I watched it I was crying because oh Gods, I wanted to be so much like The Dude. Specially because I’m just the opposite. But not proud of it. Did you watch this original film? If you haven’t, go now, I’ll wait…
Basically, The Dude (whose surname is Lebowsky) is a guy living in California who doesn’t care about anything but his own pleasure. Well, it’s not in a super selfish way, because he’s also sensitive, I mean, he’s not going around hurting people just becaushe he wants to have all the pleasure for himself. He’s a very, very simple guy. Or not? He’s an hedonist. A modern Epicurus.
He spends his time bowling and driking White Russians (a coctel made by vodka and milk… yuk). He has some friends… (who did not want to be friends which such a happy man?) a beautiful persian carpet at home (who gives him a bit of a trouble, but that’s the story of the film). You can think him to be a completely fool… or a visionary. I think he’s the second. Being happy (or not) is a virtue more than a casuality of life. I mean, I don’t know how to be happy. I’m terrible. When I don’t have any problem… I invent it! I’m never completely satisfied, only two or three days a year (in the good years) and usually I feel that way late at night after having driking lots of alcohol. Well, ok, I was exaggerating a bit. (Was I?)
But it doesn’t surprise me that North Americans have created Dudeism as a religion because this character could be a sort of Jesus Christ (no offense) in 100 years or so, who knows?
I whish I could be like him, anyway. Nowadays I just see at my life like a race full of obstacles. No fun really, no pleasure, just do, improve, get things and never look back. Stressing. Or maybe I see it like a biiig list of “to-do-things” and I’ve to tick all the items in the list and I feel frustrated because, of course, still I have hundreds of them to do (and the ones I did I don’t care about them anymore).
It’s so funny, because when I was a child I was the more careless at class I didn’t give a s*** about almost anything. I was completely happy when I got chocolate, or when my mum let me watch Wizard of Oz ten times in a role. Everything was that simple.
Now I’m so worry about getting a real job and becoming independant, because my parents are so tired of giving their adult child money to survive. I’m also worried about writing, because it’s the thing I most love in the world but still I don’t do it anymore and I don’t know why I’ve been suffering this block when I’ve achieved so many other things as the habit of running (I’ve hated running for such a long time…) I’m worried about human relationships because now I’ve found myself very useless in that matter.What happened with the loving child I used to be? The little girl who enjoyed sharing their toys at playground while talking to everybody there? Now I’m selfish, I’m untrusting, I’m a bitch whith the ones I love, I feel envy, and jelousy… If I was Catholic I could confess soo many things to a patient priest I’m sure he’d order me pray for three days non-stop to clean my sins. I’m also worried about getting fat, or ugly even If I don’t love me the way I’m because everytime I see myself in the mirror (usually it’s something I try to avoid) I don’t see what I want… I’m also worried about learning, because it’s creating me anxiety. I don’t have enough time to achieve all the knowledge I crave for, and at the same time when I dedicate time for learning I feel I could be in the fields jumping and collecting flowers.
But hey, my friends, If fore a moment I wasn’t me but The Great Dude then… then things would change, for sure…
I’d play role like crazy. I’d go anywhere with my little notebook to paint. I’d swim nude at the sea, rivers… I’d write poetry and I’d scream it aloud in pubs. I’d dance at the tables in the same pub, with my Guiness.
I’d go around dressed in my pijamas, or whatever colorful and comfortable. And I would never, never shaved my legs or similar.
I’d talk to anyone who loked interesting to me. (Fun enough, I usually talk to this kind of people precisely because I feel ashamed).
I’d get a cat!
I’d sing all the time aloud. I’d play the guitar in El Retiro (I don’t know how to play the guitar though… but I think you can improvise and it sounds ok, not like violin).
I’d abandon my studies, my master, my everything and I’d travelling by foot to Europe, Asia, Japan…
I’d leave my family for good, as I think they’ve had enough of me for their whole lives!
I’d read without looking at my watch. Because I’d had destroyed my watch before, obviously.
I’d write whatever is on my mind without caring about anything nor anyone… like this same post.