This year I’ve learned a lot about myself, and I hope that I can write that every year without fail.
I’ve learned that having a partner in crime to share the day with makes the days go blissfully sometimes unbelievably fast. And that on any given day, he and I can make a trip to the grocery store seem like an adventure and make any adventure seem possible. Loving him brings me joy; the kind of joy that comes when you find someone who can make you laugh even when you were absolutely sure that you would not laugh that day.
I’ve learned that not having a perfect family should be worn as a badge of honor. My family is flawed and frayed. And I feel their love and support surround me even when they are making me crazy. It’s the paradox of family. That we can need and love them even as they frustrate and baffle us.
I’ve learned that no matter how near or far my friends travel or move, they go with me. Time may elapse, but I carry their love and goodness every single day. Sometimes it lights my way. Sometimes it lightens my load. But always it is with me.
I’ve learned that I’m lazier than I’d like to be but also more prone to moments of creativity and passion. I’ve learned that buried beneath my insecurities is a voice I want to share even when I don’t know how.
I’ve learned that I am a very lucky woman. I trip sometimes on my journey, but I find my balance again and keep going. Grateful for all that I have.
ETA: Reading through this, I realize how many times I use the word love. That’s what I’m taking away from this year. Love, and lots of it.
I was on a t.v. website I used to love, and their poll of the day was Jersey Shore: Appalling or Awesome. I voted appalling, because everything about the show reeks of desperation and penicillin, but the results surprised me a little.
I ought to write a real review of Julie and Julia. The movie was both better than I thought it would be and more frustrating. (Amy Adams will never win me over despite all the accolades that come her way.)
But what I can’t help but marvel at is that Meryl Streep can add another of her onscreen romantic pairings to my top ten movie couples, the first being with Clint Eastwood in The Bridges of Madison County. She and Stanley Tucci bring such reality and sexiness to their fictional marriage-which is based on Julia Child’s real life, for what it’s worth-that I wanted the camera to stay with them at all times. Both actors are personal favorites of mine, and I loved seeing what they brought to the true story of a little-known love affair. Bon appetit is right.
I’m sorry, but The Black Eyed Peas really ought to reconsider their song titles. When I heard that they had a new single out called, “Meet Me Halfway,” I could only assume they made the foolish decision to cover the cheesetastic love song of the same name by Kenny Loggins. Which would have been a mistake as Mr. Loggins created perfection.
Did you ever eat so much that it feels as though you’ll never be unfull again? I hit that mark at one today and then had dinner a few hours later. My stomach said blerg.
Mel introduced me to a new site called oneword.com. When you click go, a word pops up, and you have 60 seconds to write about it. I love weirdo, artsy crap like this. My first attempt:
hut
I could imagine spending my days in a simpler residence. A hut sounds simple, right? But I’d miss t.v. I’d miss the computer I’m writing on. Most of all, I’d miss longing for simpler things. Because, although I say I want to simplify, I very rarely do what I need to to make my life less complicated.
So, I’ve heard people argue that Chris Farley was just a funny fat guy. A comic who couldn’t make a joke without using his size as a punchline. And it’s true that he often performed in sketches on SNL or acted in movies that included jokes about his girth.
But dammit, Chris Farley was really funny, despite and because of his size. One of the reasons that I loved him as much as I do is because his comedy almost never traded on the mean. All of his characters, at least the ones I’m familiar with, had a sweetness to them. Those that weren’t so sweet (hey, Matt Foley? You still living in a van down by the river?) were never cruel or vicious, just pessimistic.
As fantastic as Farley was on SNL…I mean, come on, his interview with Paul McCartney was a thing of beauty…his crowning achievement in my eyes will always be Tommy Boy.
Chris Farley and David Spade were poised to be the best thing to happen to buddy movies since Richard Pryor and Gene Wilder. Farley’s puppy-like desire to please and Spade’s sharp and almost cruel snottiness were such a perfect match that it’s hard to believe they only made two movies together.
(Incidentally, I read on Wikipedia, that David Spade was so shattered by his friend’s death that he couldn’t attend his funeral. To this day, he won’t talk about him in interviews.)
Whether you love him or merely tolerate him, Chris Farley left his mark on comedy. His big, fat, fantastic mark.
