Thursday, June 16, 2005
Phantom of the Opera
I was just watching the Phantom of the Opera starring Gerard Butler and Emmy Rossum. What struck me emotionally was how I was able to see Christine's shallow breathing when she was alone with the Phantom in his dungeon, and I could feel her arousal as she and the Phantom touched. When he touched her, her eyes went up in her head, and I could almost feel her heart beat. I would like to say that I was even able to imagine the smell of her arousal while still keeping a romantic aura to my words.
I couldn't help but to wonder whether I identified with the Phantom or with Raul, and while in my past the answer certainly would have been the Phantom, I can not say that to the exclusion of identifying with Raul.
Emotionally reflecting, there are limitations that I feel have come into my life where I wonder whether they are self-imposed or externally imposed. We know I am talking about religion. Further, I wonder if they are actual limitations or merely perceived limitations. I must always think of this and question, namely, whether religion has brought me forward or backwards. I've been working so hard to find my path within the range of permissible opportunities that I never considered that looking outside the box might shed light on the answer.
I haven't been a musical performer in many years. Yet when I was a child, I used to sing at the Metropolitan Opera, the New York City Opera, and at Columbia University, among many other places. Yes, now you know that my childhood took place in New York. I was also good, and I held lead roles in various operas and shows. I once made the front cover of the New York Times for one of the operas I held the lead role in. I bet you didn't know that about my past. So you can understand how I always had a deep connection to the musical Phantom of the Opera.
It was also the night I saw the Phantom of the Opera musical that I had my first heart break in college. I realized that night that the girl I was infatuated with wouldn't stand by my side when things got tough. Leaving the musical, the transmission in my car stopped functioning, and upon getting stuck on the bridge, she hopped a taxi and left me there with my car and my broken heart. It was a sign for many more things to come.
I suppose all I want is for someone to love me who I can love. Yet sometimes I wonder whether I will find this ploughing through the drudge path that I have been walking. I feel that I need to be somewhere else to find this love, that I need to be someone else. Just who, I have not yet figured out.