Blow ‘em all to smithereens

I can’t handle the late nights like I used to. What happens to your body as you age to make a 2am Saturday night feel like you’ve been reversed over by a maxi cab? (I would have used the all too familiar ‘run over by a bus’ example here, but heck, I’m feeling creative).

Sounds like I had an exciting weekend; sadly, I was perched on the end of the lounge alone, reading a book. Yip yah, I know how to party.

But the book was an absolute corker. And for a superficial espionage novel, it really got me thinking. Or maybe it was the MSG laced chips and sleep deprivation…whatever. I was thinking anyway, however it came about.

I literally couldn’t put this book down – I read for five and a half hours straight to finish it, my back sticking uncomfortably to the leather and my butt slightly numb, but I was still unable to tear myself away – but why? There was no deep message, no valuable life lessons (unless the need for underwater hand-to-hand combat in scuba gear suddenly arises), no well-developed themes. Just a lot of shooting, missile launching, killing with circular saws (only during a time of life-threatening-self-defensive-need, of course)…you know, general hero stuff.

The question did arise in my foggy mind this morning (when I woke up to an insistent voice yelling ‘Mum, I’ve wet the bed’) as to why on earth I stayed up so late to engage in such a shallow diversion?

Why did I respond with excitement to a protagonist who was so shut off from his emotions that he could look someone in the eye and then shoot them through it? Why does society celebrate the ‘cool head’ rather than a ‘warm heart’? The author tried to depict this guy as one of the more ‘sensitive’ special agent marine commanders (LOL- yeah right…did I mention the circular saw? Yep, really in touch with his softer side), but he was really just a detached, calculated killer.

Don’t get me wrong, the fact that I paid money for such a novel should tell you all you need to know about how in touch I am with my emotions. Sure, a few glasses of vino under my belt and I’ll tell you how you’re my best friend and how much I love you (sorry all of you who were holding onto that ‘moment’ as a meaningful one), but that’s about it for me in the ‘feeling’ department.

But I digress.

Where am I going with this? (Who knows, I’ve only had four hours sleep).

Oh yeah, that’s right. I wonder whether I love fast paced, shoot-’em-up style stories because there’s no nonsense – there’s black and white, good guys and villains, and even though there’s shrapnel flying everywhere, it either causes death or it doesn’t.

Can’t life be a bit more like that? I just want to stop standing around talking about what we’re all going to do, and just get in and do it. Forget the conversational fluff.

Pick your team and ride it out, baby.

And watch out for those fragmentation grenades, I believe they’re ugly.