YOU ARE THE ETERNAL SUNSHINE IN MY LIFE...

Why do people always ask if you want the good news first or the bad news first? More to the point, why do we always choose the bad news first? Everyone does it, the logic being that you're getting the disappointment out of the way. So you get your bad news and you sulk about it, and when the good news comes, it's never as good as what you expected (it never balances out, does it?) and usually your mind just goes straight back to the bad news. On the other hand, if we mixed things up a little bit and asked for the good news first, at least we could genuinely enjoy it. It wouldn't be poisoned by the bad news, and then when the bad news came, you'd experience that set of emotions. You'd probably worry a little bit, but if the good news is genuinely good, you could at least have the excitement about it. Thoughts?

**BREAK**

So Thanksgiving has come and is on its way out by the time I wrap this up (okay, and grammar check myself because I'm anal like that). Today was Morality Movie Day at the G household. Well, to pick up where I left off: "In the last episode of Thanksgiving At My House, Lilly's mom decided that she wasn't going to cook for the family. The only thing she was making was a reservation..." We ended up at Hotel La Jolla, a highrise with a gorgeous view of the cove. There was no waiting around for food to be prepared. No screaming down the halls for CJ to get off his computer. No whining to my dad to put down the Newsweek and start serving himself before it got cold. Mom wasn't an exhausted slave to the oven, watching 2 days of work be devoured in 15 minutes or less or your money back. And for me, the compulsive dishwasher, there was really nothing to do but to sit back. We had a great little lunchy lunch, complete with lounge pianist, and then headed home.

Fast forward- we began our movie-watching escapades today with "Elf". I'm not sure what the moral was, and it wasn't actually that funny. I guess the moral was that Santa does exist. Or that yellowbrick tights are a no-no. But we'll save that blog for another day. After a brief break where mom taught me the secrets of her apple crisp recipe (which I will use to win people over, just you wait and see. I plan to take full credit for it...), we adjourned and returned to our places on the couches.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind came next. The basic premise for anyone who hasn't seen it (in which case you'd have to be more film-ally stunted than me, and that's hard to be), it's about a guy who goes to get his memories of his girlfriend erased. Then, mid-process, he realizes he doesn't want to erase her, that there are beautiful and important memories -- even teensy ones -- in a relationship that later went to shit, and so he begins an internal process of reinvesting her into his other irrelevant memories. The cinematography was absolutely breathtaking unfuckingbelievably gorgeous. As might be predicted, they find each other again (both with 'spotless minds') and begin to fall for one another. Inevitable? The denouement (yay! wanted to use that word. Je parle francais! woo hoo!), involves them hearing their pre-operation tapes where they vent about the other's quirks and faults. They decide that yes, they will bore each other, and yes, they will do things that annoy and hurt each other, but that, shit, that's the ride, so, shit, let's do it (my eloquent paraphrasing, of course). It was such a weird, weird movie. But its colors and oddity and imbalances and back and forth and dizzying pace were right on par with life. Or what life should be. Or what *I* think life should be.

Would I erase my relationships? Nope. I mean, I've dated some real buttfaces, but the way I see it, if you don't learn from it, then you've wasted your time, and I'm all about efficiency. Your memories and experiences make you up. I've always thought people with scars are more interesting that people with perfect faces and bodies. Wear and tear is part of the game, babe. The object is to make it through, but if you make it through without some dirt on your face and a few kicks in the ass, you haven't *really* gotten game time. It does make you realize how much of life is about perspective. When I break up with a guy, I am pretty loathe to remember the nice things they did for me (did they do ANYTHING? see, like that) or kind things they said, or any sort of gushy moments. I'm an automated Spotless Mind in that way, I suppose. But what if I thought about the nicer moments and just moved along? What if I didn't need to feel disdain for Psycho Jobless Boyfriend or Workaholic Buster or Narcissism Embodied in order to move on? What if I just locked away the gentler memories and still had the benefit of finding Prince Charming Enough? Food for thought. Not turkey, but it's something.

But, as powerful and entertaining as it was, it made me sad to watch it. I found myself wishing I had been in love -- to go back to Elf, the "I'm in love and I don't caaaaaaare who knows!" twirling around in my elf suit love -- even just once -- so I could apply the film's philosophies more closely to my life. And then, not having been in love (but rather having had "a shitty romantic life" as my mom called it yesterday, always one to call a spade a spade, thanks Mom), I became very sad about being unlucky in love.

Oh, don't get me wrong. I just mean that it made me want to go back to Vegas...