Conan The Barbarian

I'm watching Conan The Barbarian for the millionth-ish time right now. The first time I saw it, I found it to be high cheese. Now it is such an integral part of my life that I want to rename my first-born cat Mako.

I'm serious. Since I started my practicum with Dr. House, I play that soundtrack on my iPod on transit with every trip in. I leave my house to, "Between the time when the oceans drank Atlantis..." and reach The Wheel of Pain by the time I reach the spot I board. Just as I come up on the waiting area, the music swells. It's the part where Conan is at the giant wheel, just pushing it around as the years of his childhood and adolescence pass by. The music hits a brilliant, purcussive swell and we see Arnold's face for the first time. I always get this feeling that I can survive it. That these days with Dr. House are like my days on the wheel. Painful and dull and abusive. But making me strong enough to face what is in front of me.

I know. I'm incredibly high-schoolishly dramatic, aren't I? Can't help it. You try watching this movie with the world's best soundtrack by Basil Pouldouris and see if you don't start believing in yourself, friendship, and undying love.

Cause, I really fucking need to believe in that shit right now. I need to believe that steel is nothing compared to the hand that weilds it. When I got married, Mr. Husband took my hand and said, "Nothing in this world can you trust. Not men, not women, not beasts." Then he pointed to our rings and said, "But this. This you can trust." In the movie Conan's dad is talking to him about the riddle of steel. But I prefer Mr. Husband's take on it. For some reason, this super-cheesy film just fills me with so much steadfastness.

I've thought of quitting so many times this year. But I prefer to imagine Dr. House going down like James Earl Jones at the end of the movie. I'll keep playing by my own rule (actual morals, ethics, and responsibility) and we'll just see what happens.