Tonight we watched “Midnight In Paris”. The movie arrived via Netflix and I wasn’t expecting to really like it, particularly since it’s a Woody Allen film. Not that there’s anything wrong with his collection of work but people either really love or adamantly despise his movies. I think this was my first, and if they are all like this, I may be a fan.
I felt like I knew the main character, Gil, as if he and I were of the same mindset. He dreamed of another time, the golden age of Paris in the 1920’s. He felt the romanticism of history and like an old soul, felt a pull toward nostalgia. You know I feel that way; not about that particular period, but about feeling a connection to another time. It’s purely an unrealistic fascination because I don’t dream of the lack of vaccinations or the uninvented advancements that accompany the chores of today’s everyday life; but there is a sense of simplicity and an appreciation for things as they used to be. He is treated like he’s crazy for his dreamlike longing and I can relate to that with certain people. Maybe their souls aren’t quite as old or they just lack he part of our brain that wanders.
Gil literally takes a ride into his dream time period and mingles with the likes of Hemingway, Dali and Picasso. He experiences quick friendships with that era’s most prominent and important creative sorts. Along the way he meets a fascinating woman and as he falls for her, she reveals that she longs for the turn of the century, and how dull life is during her existence. He comes to understand that his longing is not new, but that romantics have always longed for what is gone and what will never be again. It is obvious and likely that this is the case, but for someone like me who dreams of days I will never experience in a realistic sense, it is slightly sad. Dreamers don’t accept reality fully, because what would we dream about? I don’t want to dream of paying my bills or mowing the lawn. I want to have fantasy because it ultimately doesn’t matter if I have the right vaccinations in my dreams, as long as I fill whatever void I have with stories and distant time periods.
I fell asleep with my computer last night. It was not quite romantic. I did wake up in the middle of the night, however, with a great idea for a topic. Supposedly. I noted it on my phone, but it was so vague; “Grateful for odd things”. Although, I am grateful for odd things, I think most people are. It’s the simple things in life that really make a difference. Although I don’t know what examples I may have had while I slept, I was able to coherently think of some of my own today.
And so, I give you, odd but significant things I am grateful for.
My husband isn’t a video game addict. Hell, he doesn’t drink or gamble in excess or zone out into any sports on TV (that’s more me). He does watch cartoons, but not if we’re home together, because we have a lot in common and that is not one of them. Its not cartoons that bothers me, because I’ll watch Bugs Bunny or SpongeBob myself, but these cheesy Anime ones. He watches them in fast forward too, which leads me to believe that are just as enjoyable as I think they are. Regardless, I am grateful that he is unlike the many men I know our age who ignore the world around them, as they lose all reality to the outside world with controller in hand. So, thank you honey.
My Aunt recently brought to my attention that I should be happy for my chubby cheeks. “Look at Sally Field.”, she says, “She’s got fat and cologen in her face because of her cheeks and she’ll never look hallowed out.” Of course, she continued with things what sounded like back-handed compliments, but I realized she was right. Not only will my cheeks be beneficial as I age, they give my friends great humor. My cheeks were (ok, are) big enough that when I smile, they push up my eyes quite a bit. Although I’m of Irish/German descent, they often claim I’m in fact Asian. This doesn’t bother me because it is not offensive, but simply odd. Regardless, I’m grateful to you, chubby cheeks.
I’ve always been on the thin or appropriate weight for my height. I also have a stomach that is very picky. I hate that. But, it is the reason that I don’t eat unhealthy or unnatural things. Thus, I keep my figure. I think it’s a good idea to turn every annoying negative into a positive. It also saves us money because we don’t buy take-out very often, so well done finicky stomach!
I’m just shy of 5’9, but I have small feet. Sometimes I am as small as a 7 shoe, but mainly 7 ½. I feel gangly as it is; have long legs, long arms and a long torso, so this makes me feel that I’m petite in some way. And I’m grateful for that. Although, I do believe it aids in my klutziness. We are convinced that my feet are not big enough to keep me sturdy, which is why I topple. This is not medically or scientifically based, but it seems good enough of a reason to me.
I am grateful for so many “real” things, and some of these are really just silly. But I imagine one day, if these all didn’t collide (cue time travel music); I could look like a skeleton droopy face with big feet, obese and married to a World of Warcraft addict. Ah, but now everything will be perfect.
This is probably my most bizarre post. Bear with me, it’s been a long week.