The Golden Age

I just finished seeing Woody Allen's new film, Midnight in Paris, at the theater. There a only a few of the many aspects of my experience seeing this film that I wish to describe, perhaps in separate posts. Because there really are so many. This will not be a description of the plot, the link provided above can aid in that.

The biggest point I want to cover is a dialogue towards the end of the film, hence this sentence serves as a spoiler alert. Read no further if you wish to see the film without any more information. The concept of the golden age, a period of great importance, luxury, growth, beauty, inspiration, progress. People from different times, eras, decades, millennia, each have their own Golden Age. Something that means something more to them than now. The mundane presence. The film went to the heart of it and clearly stated that one person's golden age is another's insignificant now. As sad and disheartening as it is, I'm glad the film struck at that. In the heart of the fantasy of the film, there was a realistic revelation in the end.

I find fantasy healthy in specific doses. I'm an insanely imaginative and fantasy-filled person, most of which stays in my head. And further manifests in my dreams. In turn I look at it from a logical stand point and feel it gives me sanity. As I also marvel over the mere fact that one's mind can create whole worlds. To exercise that skill is vital. To lose it, is devastating. There are multiple facets to the fantasy of my mind, some that are extremely private to me. There is also a line I put down for myself, which I know is both strengthening but also limiting to my being. This ability of Homo sapiens to produce art forms, final products is simply astounding. We owe it to our mind. To our hands.

The idea of another time. The idea of another place. All very appealing. And all just different. This idea of escapism, whether literally or just in the mind, fascinates and permeates me. There's a reason, whether I'm explicitly aware of its extremity or not, that I prefer to go to my friend's houses, to drive across town. Nearly all my friends live far from me, or have at one point. I've been static while they are not, but I always go the distance. I prefer the distance. The unfamiliar yet familiar. The long rides on the freeways are one of my favorites. I once did them far too often that they became less fun, but eventually I started to pretend I was driving on a freeway in California. It is easy to do that at night, when freeways all look the same. It made it more exciting, different, and even lived on in my dreams. Which reminds me that traveling any somewhat lengthy distance has always been a ride of fantasy for me. My time spent in vehicles are very different, especially when I'm a passenger. This shall be reserved for a separate post however.

My question to for you to think about is, if you could go back in time, where would your Golden Age be?