At the Halfway Point, there's no real difference between 'empty' and 'full'

After watching Donnie Darko I felt this rebellious urge to prove that 'cellar door' isn't the most beautiful phrase of the English language. Arguments exist to be attacked.

Forever after this realization my brain will be adjusted to a phrase-beauty scale based upon 'cellar door': regardless of my opinion of the combination's inherent beauty, I am forced to imagine it.

It is not out of fear or close-mindedness that I don't surrender my being to Experience like some drugged-out hippy or the joyful religious; rather, I've become aware that my mind is so limited to its little pegged centers that I can only choose to consider so much. I must select only the most important battles--no more candy literature pop music teen movies social alcohol pot lip gloss culture can enter my imagination or it will soon fill up.

Once I've reached that capacity I'm not going to be able to start fresh. My brain isn't a glass, and neither is my personality, soul, worldview, or life.