Saturday, June 12, 2010
Yet another month or so has come and gone...
...and I haven't updated here, even though I've read about half the books I mentioned in that previous Upcoming Attractions post. I think about posting, a lot, in fact I think about writing about other things a lot, but something about writing, at this time, makes me unusually pensive, so it's hard to return to it. Sometimes I force myself but all of that writing has taken place in other venues off-blog and has little or nothing to do with autobiography. Maybe that's a good thing.
I did, though, just now, finish updating the Movies, Mom & Me section of this series of journals. I've mentioned to a few of my friends that, if they'd like, they are welcome to borrow any of my considerable store of DVDs to watch. When I issue such an invitation, I give them the URL of the movies journal and encourage them to peruse the list to the left on the site pages. I invited yet another friend to do this yesterday and realized that one of the movies she'd probably like to watch is one I bought after my mother's death and isn't listed, so I'd better do some updating. I cover the explanation for continuing to post on that site, despite the name, in this post.
I don't know if this will come as a surprise to my readers, but I'm not writing much differently about movies than I did before my mother's death. As it turns out, all but two (one stunning exception in particular) of the movies I've purchased since my mother's death have been what I would consider emotional fluff movies, movie comfort-food, in other words, some of which I'm embarrassed to admit I have felt the need to own. Most of them, as well, are movies my mother watched and/or enjoyed. I continue to have days, sometimes more than one in a row, when I feel compelled to watch a string of movies my mother particularly loved. These are often movies I enjoy, as well. Actually, I think there are only a few movies I own that only my mother enjoyed. The only one I can think of right off is Pretty Woman. I detest this movie and haven't watched it since my mother died, but I also found, when I culled movies for library donation, that I wasn't ready to get rid of it. I suppose it is a symbol of some of the striking differences between my mother and me. When my eye scans across it while searching for other movies, as it did today, I notice I grin and shake my head; and imagine my mother is watching and grinning back, chin up, fearlessly defending her taste in movies. Perhaps I should frame it, like a photograph, and give it a prominent spot in my living room. Not such a bad idea, since I'm not a family/friend/acquaintance photograph person, never look at them unless forced (more than sometimes, I admit, the exercise is pleasant, since, of course, I'm in the company, either actual or psychic, of others when forced, but I never think to seek it out on my own), thus I have no photographs displayed in my home. Framing and displaying this movie, though, I imagine, would have the same effect on me as displayed family photographs had on my mother and has on so many others. I used to often catch my mother gazing at the photographs we used to have displayed on the walls of our shared homes. I asked her once, out of my emotional ignorance of such phenomena, what she thought about as she looked at the photographs. "Oh," she said, "I think about when the picture was taken, what the person might have been thinking, whether they're thinking the same things, now." I was impressed, even though I've not been able to develop this skill.
An off the cuff observation I made as I clicked into this site to post: The colors I chose for the site seem especially pregnant upon contemplation! The choices were completely unconscious. As I look at them now, though, the shades of gray intermingled with pastel pink, beige and lavender, I can't help but notice that they are peculiarly appropriate for this stage of my life. This is exactly how I feel: Alive while living under a cloud. Maybe that's not bad. I love overcast weather. I'm enjoying some today, in fact. Maybe it's today's weather that has made it easy for me to post. Hmmm...
...later.
I did, though, just now, finish updating the Movies, Mom & Me section of this series of journals. I've mentioned to a few of my friends that, if they'd like, they are welcome to borrow any of my considerable store of DVDs to watch. When I issue such an invitation, I give them the URL of the movies journal and encourage them to peruse the list to the left on the site pages. I invited yet another friend to do this yesterday and realized that one of the movies she'd probably like to watch is one I bought after my mother's death and isn't listed, so I'd better do some updating. I cover the explanation for continuing to post on that site, despite the name, in this post.
I don't know if this will come as a surprise to my readers, but I'm not writing much differently about movies than I did before my mother's death. As it turns out, all but two (one stunning exception in particular) of the movies I've purchased since my mother's death have been what I would consider emotional fluff movies, movie comfort-food, in other words, some of which I'm embarrassed to admit I have felt the need to own. Most of them, as well, are movies my mother watched and/or enjoyed. I continue to have days, sometimes more than one in a row, when I feel compelled to watch a string of movies my mother particularly loved. These are often movies I enjoy, as well. Actually, I think there are only a few movies I own that only my mother enjoyed. The only one I can think of right off is Pretty Woman. I detest this movie and haven't watched it since my mother died, but I also found, when I culled movies for library donation, that I wasn't ready to get rid of it. I suppose it is a symbol of some of the striking differences between my mother and me. When my eye scans across it while searching for other movies, as it did today, I notice I grin and shake my head; and imagine my mother is watching and grinning back, chin up, fearlessly defending her taste in movies. Perhaps I should frame it, like a photograph, and give it a prominent spot in my living room. Not such a bad idea, since I'm not a family/friend/acquaintance photograph person, never look at them unless forced (more than sometimes, I admit, the exercise is pleasant, since, of course, I'm in the company, either actual or psychic, of others when forced, but I never think to seek it out on my own), thus I have no photographs displayed in my home. Framing and displaying this movie, though, I imagine, would have the same effect on me as displayed family photographs had on my mother and has on so many others. I used to often catch my mother gazing at the photographs we used to have displayed on the walls of our shared homes. I asked her once, out of my emotional ignorance of such phenomena, what she thought about as she looked at the photographs. "Oh," she said, "I think about when the picture was taken, what the person might have been thinking, whether they're thinking the same things, now." I was impressed, even though I've not been able to develop this skill.
An off the cuff observation I made as I clicked into this site to post: The colors I chose for the site seem especially pregnant upon contemplation! The choices were completely unconscious. As I look at them now, though, the shades of gray intermingled with pastel pink, beige and lavender, I can't help but notice that they are peculiarly appropriate for this stage of my life. This is exactly how I feel: Alive while living under a cloud. Maybe that's not bad. I love overcast weather. I'm enjoying some today, in fact. Maybe it's today's weather that has made it easy for me to post. Hmmm...
...later.
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