This is the last night before the first morning of the second time I'm starting my job for the first time again.

I think it's been six or seven weeks since I last went to work. I stopped when I went crazy. I needed to go away and do all that fun stuff I wrote about, of which spending the day at a nutter spa was the high point.

When I wasn't at fancy mental day spas, I was sitting at home hoping the new meds would kick in "right about now, please." If you want the troof, the first several weeks had me worried. I felt like I had finally hit the end of the meds-that-might-work road. I'd tried everything from Zoloft to morphine, and found nothing but a superficial relief from all the crap. I'd finally been deposited in the medicinal equivalent of a dark alley in Detroit. Not that other parts of Detroit wouldn't be dangerous, too. The "alley" bit is probably also unnecessary, as I think all points in Detroit are equidistant from a swift death (yours, most likely). And "dark" - I don't see how a place could become as dangerous as Detroit without tons of dark. Like, twenty-four hours of dark a day.

To rephrase, I'd finally been deposited in the medicinal equivalent of the entire city of Detroit.

And I was scared.

Several weeks later, and I've actually been leaving the condo, talking to people (couldn't do this for a while), and feeling more or less all right. It's nice.

Being away from work this long blows. Yeah, I wouldn't have felt good about coming back a couple weeks ago, but a lot has changed. Not sitting around and thinking about how the rest of my life (however long or short it may be) is going to suck is one of the things I'm happy to say is in my past.

Time, I think, to start doing things again. Yep.

To celebrate getting to go back to work (there's a sentence I never thought I'd write), I treated myself to two movies from Xbox Live last night. It was my little pat on the back to myself. A hug, too. And maybe a kiss.

I wanted to get a couple movies that fit into a theme, so I chose these:

    1. Some undersea fish and crab movie that showed octopuses and fish undersea.

    2. The Aristocats.

As you can see, the theme idea was tossed out the window when I encountered these puppies.

Veni, vidi, emi, biatch.

What I really wanted to see was a movie called "Renaissance" that's all French and pretty and shit. I actually drove out to Fry's just to see if I could find it. I axed Mr. Fry's if he knew where I could find the section with movies that are all French and pretty and shit, and he said he didn't know, and then he offered to sell me an extended warranty. I tried to leave, but he and five of his cohorts pinned me to the floor until I agreed to buy a two year extended warranty on a pack of Red Vines I didn't even own. I called out for their manager, and was relieved to see him push his way through the pack of employees who were harassing me. He asked them what was going on. They told him, and then he punched me in the face.

I thanked them all for the good deal on the extended warranty for a pack of Red Vines I didn't even own. Then I took my leave.

Back in the car, I reassessed whether it was wise to continue my search for the French movie.

Don't do this, Rory, I was all saying to myself. Don't waste your time.

But then I got all ired to the max because I was calling my own dedication into question, so then I said to myself, "Don't" isn't even in my vocabulary, at least not until I hit "can't," at which point "don't" suddenly becomes much more relevant. OK, I see the futility of my quest; I'll quit. Thank you for the lesson, one-of-the-other-voices-in-my-head.

I drove all the way back to my hep bachelor pad, framed my extended warranty for a pack of Red Vines I didn't even own, and then sat down to watch my two not-especially-French movies.

The first movie I watched was The Aristocats, a cartoon movie that came on the scene in 1970 and changed the world of cinema forever.

Seeing it last night was the realization of a childhood obsession. Like, think Dr. Henry Jones and his lifelong quest for the Holy Grail in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Remember? A fire burned in his loins that could only be satisfied by retrieving the cup that held the blood of Jesus Christ. My search for The Aristocats was very similar.

My search began shortly after seeing the film in 1980 during its second major theatrical release.

I was two.

The music and sophisticated story captured my imagination and struck a chord on the strings of my soul. I wanted to go back to the theater a second time, but when I tried to talk to my parents, all that came out was gibberish; as though I wasn't accustomed to the sound of my own tongue!

Several years later, I was still searching. I had a close brush with the movie when, while traveling in tow of my mother at the Multnomah County Central Library on 10th avenue in downtown Portland, I spotted the film. This library had just started carrying videos, and I expected The Aristocats to be my first library-procured flick.

When I arrived at the box, my hands were trembling. After all this time... can it really be? Oh, be not thou a mirage! I took the box from its shelf, and then I nearly had a seizure. It wasn't a video. It was a 16mm reel of the damn thing.

To be that close, and yet not to be... the Universe was playing with my mind.

I believe I was eight at the time, and right then and there, I swore off my search for The Aristocats. It had destroyed me. Back at home, I took all my clues, maps, and, most precious of all, my Aristocats diary containing every hint and reference to the work I had ever found, stuffed it all in an oil drum that we just happened to have in the hallway between the two children's rooms, soaked everything in the lighter fluid I had received for Christmas the previous year, and then torched the mess, watching the flames climb over the barrel to lick the walls and render all unto ash.

My mom grounded me for three days when she found out I was the one who burned the house down, but, you know, bygones and all that. We laugh about it now. I'm all, "Ha! Remember the time I burned down the house because I didn't like our trip to the library? HA HA!" And then she's all... well, she just kind of looks at me. Sometimes she calls the cops. It's good times. The laughing is really the best part.

Since then, I hadn't thought once about The Aristocats.

Until last night.

There it was, in the list of available movies on Xbox Live. It was even in HD. The cost was negligible for a high roller like me. Within seconds, The Aristocats was being downloaded to my 360.

I sat down to watch it with gum and a cola. I was trying to decide if I should chew the gum before drinking the cola, or if I should wait until the cola was safely inside me to chew the gum. I played mental ping-pong with this conundrum for the next three hours. After all that, the solution was easy. I was all, Hey... I'm a spontaneous guy. Why don't I just chew the damned gum or drink the damned cola? I mean, that's what I do; I'm spontaneous. People expect it of me. Another three hours later, I threw caution to the wind and chewed some gum. In retrospect, it wasn't an optimal experience, but it's not like I was looking for perfection or anything. That's just the cost of choosing to be spontaneous.

So, after all these years of angst over a seventy-eight minute cartoon movie about cats, what did I think? How do I feel?

I present my review in full:

I liked the cats and also the movie. It was funny. I was scared that the cats might get hurt, but they didn't.

On a scale of one to ten, I rate this movie: Godzilla!

Looks like I can finally move on with my soul unburdened.

That's good, I guess.

I moved on quickly. Specifically, I moved onto the other movie I got, which was all about the big water near America and what lives in it. There are many things to be learned from this sort of movie, and I took my cinematic experience very seriously.

The excellent documentary was narrated by Johnny Depp and Kate Winslet, both of whom are known worldwide for having won the Nobel Prize in Fish. They each had to name (in alphabatistical order!!!) fifty fish and what color they were. Johnny Depp made it all the way through, but Kate Winslet forgot a couple of her fish, but it's OK because the Nobel Prize judge was all, "For there be nobody more exact in the science of fishery than thee or thou or whatever pronoun goes here, I dub thee or thou or whatever the most able-minded to receive this award for your fishspertise. Did you like that? I made up that word. It means you're fish-smart. By the power nested in me, I declare you SURPRISE MARRIED!!! I love that part. Amen."

What I learned from Johnny Depp about fish is that fish are:

    1. Usually wet.

There was more detail, but my head is almost going to explode just from this one knowledge.

What was the most interesting to me is the way he said that fish will die. That blew my mind.

If a octopus catches its prey, it will eat it.

When a blue fish does it with a red fish, they have little baby purple fish (FACT).

If you coat your finger in cod liver oil, paint it bright yellow, go out to a reef, find a busy spot, and display your finger conspicuously, something will eat it.

A jellyfish IS NOT made out of jelly. It's more like a poisonous marmalade with tendrils. The English probably eat it.

The only time a shark is dangerous is when it's chewing on you.

In a fight between a barnacle and coral, neither side would win because they both just sit there.

There's something called "symbiosis" which is when one fish eats another fish and then says "Thank you."

The most powerful creature in the ocean is a small blind flat round mess of grayish skin that tears easily.

That is all the information I can share with you.

It is time to sleep, for in the morning I shall return to work.

Rested.

Medicated.

Sane(ish).

Able(ish).

Willing.

And an expert on fish.

Bon nuit. Je vous aime tous...