My husband and I recently started watching Tarantino movies, most of which we’ve seen before. There are either devout Tarantino fans or those who avoid his movies altogether. I have friends in both camps, but like most things in life, I find myself somewhere in the middle.
Our first pick for this film renaissance was Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. While watching this movie in the theatre I was skeptical if I’d like it or not. But, by the end of the movie, it was clear. I loved it. The craft, beauty, and genius of his movies are best appreciated watching them a second or even third time. Or, more if you’re like us.
We put that movie in our Netflix queue and soon received the DVD in the mail. Thus began our Tarantino festival. Next, we watched Pulp Fiction from our home library. Since then, we’ve watched Reservoir Dogs and Jackie Brown and have quite a few to go. I already have a far greater appreciation of the genius behind his movies.
But, the point of this is not me convincing anyone to watch Tarantino movies. You either like them or you don’t. Since we started this hobby, we had a series of coincidences that were too odd to not notice. Our initial conversations up to this point occurred in the confines of our living room, and adding movies to our Netflix queue. The morning after watching Pulp Fiction, a Tarantino interview popped up in my husband’s YouTube feed. By now, we’re all used to having our on-line life tracked and manipulated. Searching online for weight loss tips will soon flood your Inbox or browser screen with pop-up ads for weight loss supplements. The odd thing was that our conversations about revisiting Tarantino were limited to our living room, our home DVD library, and admittedly Netflix, and yet somehow Big Brother YouTube knew of our interest and suggested he watch an interview with Tarantino.
A little odd, but whatever. Right?
The very next week my husband met with several contractors to get bids for redoing our roof. The owner of one company had a new assistant join him. The young man introduced himself as Quentin.
That weekend, I was digging through an old box of things saved from my college days, a box I hadn’t looked inside for several years. A file folder sat on top, so I opened it. At first, I couldn’t figure out what it was. I realized it was a subpoena issued for me to appear in court in 1981 to testify against Quinton, a young man who had walked into the house I shared off campus with several girlfriends. This same guy had a prior rape charge (something I didn’t know at the time) and had also ventured into a different house earlier that morning (also something I didn’t know) and because both that resident and I had both called the police, they were able to find and arrest him.
So, I guess I did actually know a Quinton, although spelled differently. Still—this series of Quentin coincidences was getting absurd. Was the universe really trying to tell me something? Of course, any reasonable person would come to the conclusion that this notion is ridiculous. Still, we humans do make connections with things and in doing so, we create purpose and meaning. That is just something we do. Story is in our DNA. I believe we create purpose and meaning and not the other way around.
We are too insignificant in the universe for “IT” to waste energy for our benefit. Humans tend to adopt an exaggerated and somewhat egotistical notion that we are far more important in the Universe than we truly are. Just ponder your significance the next time a hurricane, tornado, tsunami, earthquake, flood, fire, lightning, or even a meteorite greets you at your doorstep.
Whether you believe that humans tip the balance in any specific area or not is not my point. The sheer chaos, randomness, violence, and creativity of nature is wildly outside our conscious control. That being said, life is certainly mysterious and I willingly admit that me implying that I have the capacity to understand this is also egotistical.
Yet, from a practical perspective, I know I’ve wasted years of mental, emotional, and physical energy pursuing connections, finding reasons for things outside my control, attributing blame (or even credit) to myself or others, and then seeking out complicated solutions that leave me paralyzed in a world where I control far less than I pretend to. Many of these boondoggles I now clearly see for what they were: time sucks.
But back to my Quentin Question. I still find it amusing to note the coincidences in life and read the signs posted along the meandering path in life that drives me forward.
The meaning I settled on for this string of Quentin coincidences is this:
Life is filled with connections, most of which we miss because our eyes are closed and we’re not open to discovery. Revisiting the past can actually give us new perspectives. So, don’t be afraid to open that box and explore. Open yourself to new things. Meet new people. There just might be a Quentin coincidence awaiting you.
Just remember not to take yourself too seriously.
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