The Waiting is the Hardest Part

'Tis the season. The season of waiting. The season of anticipation. Every day feels like an intake of breath. 
When does the release happen? Is it when the shopping is done? When the gifts are wrapped and tree decorated? When family gathers to celebrate? Or does it happen the day after, vacuuming the wrapping paper shreds, washing the dirtied dishes, putting the furniture back in place? 
I am a person who feels the post-holiday crash pretty deeply. In the evenings between Christmas day and New Year's Eve, I lean toward wallowing in sappy movies, sappy music, sitting in darkness lit only by tree lights. I take my year apart mentally, analyzing every misstep, listing the changes I will make to move forward. It's not so much a release as a letdown. It's as if there's nothing to look forward to, only things to regret. And that's bullshit. 
I'm learning (ssss--lll--ooo--www--lll--yyy) to keep myself in anticipation. Because there's ALWAYS something coming. I don't mean in the "Oh-I've-got-a-thousand-things-to-get-done!" way. I mean in the "What's-around-this-corner?" way. I'm learning to look forward with curiosity, with eagerness, with openness, instead of with dread, with anxiety, with a feeling of impending doom. 
I am not good with change. I worry. I fret. I dread. I know I won't completely be free of those weights, but I'm determined to look ahead with excitement. I am not patient, but I'm determined to find the joy in the waiting. 
I will inhale and open my eyes.

 


Clip art: http://www.stpaulschestnuthill.org/wp-content/uploads/Advent-Wreath-011.jpg

Movies

It seems trivial to be thankful for something as mundane as movies, but when I think about how influential movies have been in my life, I have to pause and be grateful.
I have some early memories of going downtown with my mother and brothers to see "blockbusters," like 633 Squadron and Von Ryan's Express. I find it odd to remember going to see these war movies with my MOTHER and not my dad--but I'm guessing it has something to do with the fact that my dad was always picking up odd carpentry jobs on weekends, so he wasn't very available.
Growing up, we had a couple movie theaters in our suburb, and we could ride our bikes to at least two of them. I remember feeling so safe, ensconced in the darkness of the theater, surrounded by the story of someone else's life.
We all know the movie-theater experience of today is drastically different. We're bombarded by commercials, surrounded by audience members who don't know HOW to watch a movie politely, and in silence. I still go to the movies, but, like the rest of the country, I tend to watch movies more at home, where I can control the atmosphere. I like to turn off the lights and pretend I'm in my own little theater. Though I do enjoy seeing some current films (The King's Speech is the best movie I've seen in YEARS!), when I'm looking for comfort, I tend to break out the classics. This weekend, TMC was running several of my favorites. Saturday night I curled up with Little Big Man, and today was my all-time favorite romance, Dr. Zhivago.
I'm grateful for movie music, for memorable acting moments, but mostly, I'm grateful for the pure rush of emotion that engulfs me when I'm part of a fabulous movie.

Here it comes again

Is it the summer night air? Is it the position of the moon? Is it a chemical imbalance? Whatever it is, this melancholy comes on suddenly. I'm filled with a longing, but can't define what it is I'm longing for. I'm drawn to sentimental movies and music--quirky romances. That's not my usual MO. I avoid sentimentalism. But when this mood hits, I obsessively watch the same films and wallow in the sentiment.

Sometimes, if I concentrate on it, I move from mere melancholy into deep sadness. But that's not the norm.

Anyway, it's here right now and I'll do my best to avoid sinking deeper. I've developed a growing fondness for wine, so I think I'll have a glass. I know, I know--alcohol doesn't help. But I'm only going to have a glass, and I know that's my limit. I'm watching a movie, enjoying the brief cool-down, and thinking and feeling a lot. It will pass.