tits out to the world...
so last night i saw "up," and my tears were as 3d as the rest of the movie. i'd preface my reaction with, "now, i'm not normally a crier," but last time i checked, half of regis&kelly was blurred this morning due to the salt river that carried its licking currents over my corneas, over a commercial, no less. it was for some appliance company--maybe kenmore--and women were wearing flowy gowns and destroying their old appliances by pushing them off diving boards and slingshotting them into the sky and the music was almost lamentative, very 'lifetime,' and next thing i knew i was gushing into my kashi go-lean. ok, i'm not normally that soft, but "up" really hit a brother, know what i'm saying?
i'm not going to rehash the plot--go see the damn thing, and in 3d, if possible--but for me, it was a colorful, exuberant deeply-touching work of art, so full of personal nuances, and abounding with stark symbolism.
aside from the bold glasses worn by the protagonist, characteristic to someone so near and dear to me, yet so distantly alienated, it was the sense of freedom gained that i found so beautiful. freedom that was acquired not by action, but by relinquish. the simple act of letting go can make such a difference. it's rarely done, as we frequently view the shirking off of duties as laziness or a deliberate unwillingness to do something, but in reality, making the conscious decision to simply let go of something that you know isn't good for you, no matter how wonderful it may be, can open secret doors.
which got me to thinking. starting today, i'm going to make a list of everybody in my past, no matter how recent or distant they were, who affected me by limitation--whether they doubted me, judged me, underestimated me, or just didn't care, anything that didn't allow me to be as i was and am--and pen a deep letter to them, acknowledging how and when they hurt me, but letting them know that i hold no negativity toward them at all. i'm going to embrace the time we shared, chalking up what i felt as a beautiful lesson of life, and only retain the threads of love that were still present. to quote a muse that has come through time and time again, "what's too painful to remember/we simply choose to forget/so it's the laughter we will remember." barbra may be gayer than the last 'grey gardens' party i went to, but the woman's got a way with words.
and after the letters are written, each dripping with active memories like a comic strip, the words forming cartoonish faces, strong dialogue just short of speech bubbles, raw thoughts and feelings woven through the paper, i'm going to take any remaining anger, hurt, remorse and regret, seal them all into the envelope, then i'm going to kiss those envelopes goodbye and get all 80's movie montage conclusion and throw them into the river, watching as they flutter down and land with barely any splash, but smirking at how rectangular envelopes still make perfectly circular waves.