Trevan and I finally saw Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest. Apart from ending in a shameless plug for the final installment of the trilogy set to be released on May 25, 2007, the movie was just what I needed; a journey through a world of magic, adventure and fantasy.
With the music in the background, the Black Pearl sets sail with Captain Jack Sparrow and Elizabeth on their way to rescue Will. I felt it! The wind tussling my hair, the salty cent of the ocean filling my lungs, the swaying of the ship as the waves crash against it. Most of all, I felt the awakening of adventure, danger and mischievous piracy.
Why is it so easy for me to transport myself to ficticious worlds where danger and adventure seem to be what days are made of? Why do I yearn to live in a world where I am chased by a pirate who is neither dead nor alive for he yanked out his heart and buried it in a chest? Is it possibly that I crave this adventure because living in such a world seems less dangerous to my sanity than going to my boring job and living a routine existence?
Every single person I know has at some point in their lives complained about something that threatened to ruin their happiness here on earth. A job, a relationship, a house, a neighborhood...The list goes on.
Why then has no one done anything about it? Why don't I quit the job that keeps sucking the life out of me with its monotony? Could it be that I, like so many others have realized that the grass is not really greener on the other side? That after I find a new job there will be other things to threaten my happiness? Or is the reason more sinister? Maybe I do not try to change the things I hate because I want something to complain about. Almost as if complaining will make the unsatisfactory bearable.
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