Proof that good times can never be pure / must be preceded by pain.
  1. A solid 10 mins of assessing how tired I am / wondering whether I'll be able to concentrate on a 'good' movie or if I should just go with fun fluff.
  2. Sifting through my hard drive which has a few hundred GBs of movies arranged by director, genre, and year of release.
  3. Stopping at the Godard folder, steeling myself to watch something I know I'll love but find a hard time taking the initiative to start.
  4. Stopping at the Almodovar folder, soul searching, wondering whether I have it in me to spend a couple of hours having my mind and soul tickled pink and fucked with.
  5. Fast forward to the chick flick folder.
  6. Stop at Love Jones. Talk self out of watching Love Jones for the fifth time. Give self a max of five minutes to fantasize about Nina and Darius.
  7. Check time.
  8. Calculate how many hours before I'll have to be up again for work.
  9. Backpedal out of the movie folder into the tv show folder.
  10. Watch five episodes of Buffy instead.