Saturday, July 22, 2023
Ralph and I did a thing today that we have never done before, that I didn’t even know was possible.
We went to a movie at 6:30.
Did you know they played movies at 6:30 in the morning? Godforsaken! Apparently they do, and since the movie we wanted to see was sold out at every other time, we picked that one. We were feeling daring.
We went to see Oppenheimer, and our showing was nearly full. But that wasn’t the only movie playing at 6:30 in the morning. The Barbie movie was playing, too. And the theater was jam packed with women wearing hot pink skirts and dresses and track suits.
Did I mention it was 6:30 in the morning? All of us lunatics with our popcorn for breakfast. The girl at the concession stand wasn’t even awake. I asked for four things and she forgot to give me three of them. I had to stand there and remind her individually of each thing we ordered, to which she replied each time, “oh yeah.”
If I had been smarter, I would have just kept going. And the four hot dogs? And the six bags of M&Ms? And the Butterfingers? I bet we could have come home ready for Halloween and she never would have known the difference.
But this isn’t about the movie. It’s about the going to the movie, namely at 6:30 in the morning, which is something so absurd I can’t even believe we did it.
And it felt great.
This has been an odd week. Between the conference and the dinners and the cocktails and the people all capped off with a dawn-breaking movie, we outdid ourselves.
By the time Friday rolled around I was actually glad to park myself on the couch for the day, not just by default but because I needed a day off from having fun.
I was having so much fun, in fact, that the thought of getting out of bed for a 6:30 AM movie did not bother me one bit.
Afterwards, we felt very proud of ourselves. I washed the dishes with a little more vim than usual this morning. And as I was doing it, feeling pretty good about things, thinking about the next fun thing on my list, it occurred to me that it’s been a while since I felt this way.
And I didn’t realize just how… blah I’ve been feeling lately. Something halfway between bored and depressed, not quite either but maybe a bit of both.
So I decided to reflect on this a bit. And you get to come along for the ride.
You know how there’s nothing wrong, things are going pretty well, your biggest problem is that it takes six seconds to log into your bank account instead of two, but you’re still not feeling the love?
There’s nothing wrong. But there’s nothing right, either. You just sort of exist.
I’ve been existing for quite a while. I work, I play, I sleep, I eat. It’s not bad. But it’s not good, either.
It’s sort of rote. You’re vaguely disinterested. You wake up and count your blessings and remind yourself how much abundance you have but gratitude is more of an idea than a feeling.
That’s how it’s been.
Things are fine.
Then other things happen, like conferences and terrible burgers, friend visiting and good cocktails, 6AM movies and nachos, and you think… huh. This is fun.
This is better than fine.
I could be better than fine.
I could be… and have… and do… more.
Yes, I think that’s it. It’s not that anything is bad or wrong or unpleasant, it’s just less than what it could be.
I got more out of life this week. More fun, more aggravation, more good food, more terrible food, more people to like and dislike, and more stories to tell.
More isn’t always better, but it’s better than fine.
I know that more is not always possible. I know very well that I am going back to my beanbag on Monday and I’ll be on the couch blogging tomorrow. But knowing there is more is a good reminder to get out and take some once in a while.
Yes. I am pleased with this idea. So pleased that I will leave it here and go do something. Something… more.
Photo: a flight of whiskey we tasted at the Nelson Greenbriar distillery at lunchtime during the conference this week. I’ll take more of that!