Sunday, May 13, 2012

To Remembering

It's no secret that I love finales of television shows. I love the episodes when you've invested years of your life into a show and you're allowed to see that investment come to a close. Tonight, as I watched the Desperate Housewives finale, I was able to pinpoint one of the reasons why. Bookends.
There's something about seeing characters you saw in episode one pop back up again in the final episode. Not every show is able to do that but some are, Housewives being one of them. It allows you to revisit the very first time you met these characters you've stood by for so long.
I had a similar experience with my group of friends from college. On our last night that we'd all be together, we watched a DVD slideshow of pictures that spanned the length of our friendship to that point. We were able to bookend our friendship.
Obviously, that's infinitely more important and meaningful than seeing a minor character from a show. But there is value in the bookends. There's a value in remembering. It's easy to look back over a period of time and see how things have changed, but what's really valuable is seeing what's remained the same. What were the constants in a world full of variables? What was there when you began and stuck around?
So as the finale credits roll, as I have wiped away tears that seeped out over the course of the two hours, I'm reminded of the journey. I'm reminded of the moments that have affected me. I'm reminded of the ways that a scripted television show has somehow inspired me and given me moments that require tissues. I am also reminded of the people in that bookended video, the ways they have affected me, somehow inspired me and given me moments that require tissues. Bookends are more than a great gift.
"To remembering."

Monday, May 7, 2012

In Like

A friend of mine is in love. Though, all he'll say is that he's "in like." But that's just an over-cautious way of saying he fell fast, fell hard and is in that inescapable muddy trench we call love. It's amazing to me how the one thing we all aspire to have in our lives, love, is sometimes the hardest to admit we've stumbled into.
I love love. I love seeing people in love. I love watching it blossom and become something tangible. It's infectious isn't it? You see people in love, you see it working, and you can't help yourself but to want to have that as well. Even the most solitary and independent people aren't immune. It's amazing.
With all the hatred in the world, seeing someone in love can silently but almost tangibly change our perception on our state of affairs. And this isn't in some sort of strange, voyeuristic way. It's honestly makes me happy to see people happy and in love. And though love is of course total agony as Love Actually so adequately points out, it's also the most wonderful thing in the world.
I feel like love and possibility go hand in hand and right now, I feel full of possibility. I'm not in love. I'm not even in like. But I am full of possibility which I think means something.