More thoughts on Batman and morality and stuff...

When The Dark Knight came out, there were a lot of people who quietly said "hmmm...this movie is too much for me."  However, the overwhelming popular response to the film (of which I was very much a part) was one of unabashed adoration.  It's difficult to express your opposing opinion in the face of that much passion, I understand.  But with the Aurora shooting these people have, I think, felt empowered.  Here is a tangible (and horrible) act that validates how they've been feeling all along: movies about violence beget violence.  

I wrote a blog post a couple of days ago defending the Dark Knight as one of my favorite movies of all time. I tried to explain why I personally did not feel that it was too dark.  I should have made that statement more clear--I acknowledge that the movie absolutely has darkness, a great amount of it.  The point I was trying to make was not that the movie isn't dark, but that the darkness serves a purpose.  A purpose that, to me, is worthwhile.  

I have a couple of friends who have been very vocal about the reasons that they dislike these movies.  One friend, in particular, has shared with me a lot of quotes from LDS General Authorities about the need to keep the spirit present at all times, partaking of good things, and watching what we let into our lives.  If you are interested in reading these quotes, and they are certainly worth reading, you can see most of them here.  

However, as much as I have heard people speaking out against the Batman movies, I have heard just as many, if not more, very vocally opposing them.  Arguments that "guns don't kill people, people kill people" and "bad people will do bad things regardless of the media they watch and the laws we enact".  I had a conversation with a good friend of mine who pointed out that James Holmes was clearly insane and trying to argue that his behavior has anything to do with the behavior of a sane person is absurd.  People make their decisions and trying to control them with gun control laws and censorship is pointless.

I have generally been in the latter group.  My reasoning has been fairly simple.  I have watched the Batman movies, or even Taken, a film that I find much much more disturbing, and I have not taken my .22 rifle and shot anyone with it.  Nor have the majority of the thousands of other people who have also seen those movies, or movies infinitely worse.  The evidence of all the people out there watching movies and not shooting people suggests that violent films do not lead to violence.  

But...sometimes they do.  The fact is James Holmes was "inspired" by the Joker.  Now, you can say "Hey, he made a choice.  The movie didn't make him kill anyone, he chose to kill people."  Yes, technically that is true.  And frankly, I am as enthusiastically opposed to attempts at regulating people's lives as I can be about anything political.  I think trying to fix problems by passing laws is ineffectual and idiotic.  But I can't help but feel like American society has become addicted to ideas of individuality and independence to an unhealthy degree.  The cult of Live and Let Live has taken a choke-hold on our society, right down to the way we raise our children--"I just need to let little Sally and Johnny be who they are!"  Nevermind that who they are is a screaming hellion who will later grow up to make my life and many others miserable.  

Society is growing ever more isolated and we are losing our connections to our neighbors.  Partially this is because it is human nature to bristle against people "telling me what to do!"  But I think there is also another reason.  People don't want to feel responsible; they don't want to feel guilty.  If everyone can do what they want and no one is the boss of me then when something terrible like the Aurora shooting--or the Columbine shooting, or any one of the great host of horrible things that have been done in the history of the world--happens, I don't have to feel guilty.  I can feel sad for the victims, and I can feel horrified at the brutality, and I can feel angry at the perpetrator, but I don't ever have to feel responsible.  I don't ever have to feel as though such a thing, whatever the thing may be, was in any way my fault.  

How does a man become so delusional that he pretends to be the Joker and decides to kill innocent, random strangers without anyone noticing? 

Reality argues that no matter what we do there will always be crazy people doing crazy horrible things.  And honestly, I agree with my friend who said "I admit, I don't feel at all responsible for the Aurora shooting.  I didn't make him pick up a gun."  I don't think that the fact that I love The Dark Knight and the Dark Knight Rises means that it was my fault that a man 500 miles away from me lost the distinction between reality and fiction.  Nor do I think that the fact that I own a gun and would vote against gun regulation places blame on me for people I've never met deciding to kill.  

But maybe it should?

I don't know.  I really don't.  I wish I had some sort of conclusion to this post.  

But I wanted to write it to say that I understand.  I understand why my friends feel sick after watching movies full of violence.  I understand why the leaders of my church preach against violence and immorality and the desensitization such things can cause.  I agree with them.  I feel that society, as a whole, needs to realize that sometimes you DO have to take responsibility for the bad things that individuals do because, like it or not, human beings are social beings.  

As for my life, and the incongruities and contradictions that, perhaps, it exhibits, maybe I am wrong, or maybe I am living as best I can right now.  I don't know which of those is correct.  I know that I hate being told what to do just as much as anyone (possibly more than a lot).  I know that I truly do love the movies The Dark Knight and The Dark Knight Rises and see legitimate moral values in them.  I know that I'm trying to be a good person.  So...wherever that leaves us...is up to you I guess...

Thoughts on Batman, Rising and Risen

Do you guys remember my SPATULA?  Well, first off, that died.  I didn't get the grant, so if I do end up doing that project it will be unfunded.  But the point of bringing it up is to use it as an example of how much I love the movie The Dark Knight.  That movie is, in my opinion, as pretty near perfect as a film can be.  I will go into why I feel that way a little later on, but you can imagine how excited I've been for The Dark Knight Rises with that sort of parentage, can't you?

I'm not the only one.  In fact, my excitement has been relatively tame compared to some I know.  I actively tried to avoid trailers and other promotional materials because in this case I didn't want to go into the movie already feeling like I knew what was going to happen.  And because I had this suspicion.  I was worried that this was going to be one of those movies where the hero gets pummeled beyond my idea of human endurance and I wouldn't want to watch it anymore.  And I didn't want to have to worry about that, so I just avoided watching the trailers.  Fun fact: it was not one of those movies.  In case you were worried like me.  

But anyway, I was super excited.  However, just as I was walking in to the theatre at 6:59 pm on Thursday evening I realized something.  There was no possible way that this movie was going to live up to my expectations!  That is, the chances were virtually zero.  I mean, Christopher Nolan is the guy who gave us Inception and The Dark Knight.  The expectations I had for him as a master storyteller were practically inhuman.  So, while it was possible that this film would be as good as I was hoping, I took a moment to prepare myself for it not to be.  Turns out this was a good thing.  

Now this is not to say that I didn't love The Dark Knight Rises.  First and foremost, please remember that, when I say that this movie did not live up to the one before it, that is comparing to an insanely high standard, and falling short of that standard still leaves the movie at a higher level than most others.  So please remember that, for the rest of this post.  Though I was disappointed (how could I not have been?) I still really liked the movie.  I would say it was as good as Inception...

I will put the rest of this post under a cut, so that you can avoid it if you've not yet seen the movie...

The Chocolate Fight Club of the D'Ubervilles

I've been reading The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier.  I finished it last night.  Robert Cormier is known for writing....questionable books.  He wrote I Am The Cheese, a book about a disturbed young man who has a less than firm grasp on reality.  He wrote Tenderness, which is about a teen aged psychopath serial killer and rapist and the girl who becomes obsessed with him.  Supposedly Cormier says that he wants to write "real people in dramatic situations that will keep people turning pages."  That generally translates into books that parents don't really want their children to read.  The Chocolate War seems to have a permanent home on the ALA's 100 most banned books list, sitting around #3 for years now.

First of all, a tangent about my opinion on censorship.  It's stupid.  Always.  Ok, maybe not always, but pretty dang nearly.  That is to say that I grew up reading things that would probably be considered wildly inappropriate for my age range.  A rather tame example--I remember checking out Robin McKinley's The Blue Sword when I was in...4th grade maybe?  and the librarian looked at the cover, looked at me in my wee 4th gradedness, and said "are you sure you should be reading this?  I think you might be a little too young..."  To which I responded "My mom doesn't care what I read, and I promise you this will be fine."  Admittedly, had my mom been there she probably would have qualified that statement.  I think possibly the reason my mom "didn't care what I read" is because I have always had remarkably good taste in books.  But it was the truth.  I don't think my mom could have cared less if I was reading an innocuous fantasy book, even if it did have semisortofnotreallyoblique sexual references.  And, being in 4th grade, those went right over my head and I didn't realize exactly what was happening in them till I reread the book later in life.  And that's the point.  If you're old enough to be interested in the story then read the story.  If there are "mature" themes then you'll be "mature" enough to understand them so whatever or you won't be and they'll go over your head.  And I personally intend to cultivate the sort of relationship with my kids that they know they can ask me about anything if they have questions.  Censorship, in my humble opinion, is for cowards who don't want to have to think about hard questions.

What is that honey? You want to know WHY he hates
 green eggs and ham?  Hmm...I'm not sure this book is appropriate for you...

Which is a long way of saying that banning a book like The Chocolate War is stupid.  A.) banning something is a good way to make it a heck of a lot more appealing and exciting than it was before and B.) if they want to read it let them read it.

That being said...I absolutely hated this book.

So much.

Plot synopsis:  Jerry Renault attends Trinity Catholic School where authority is divided between the teachers, and The Vigils, a secret school gang.  The school has a chocolate sale coming up and Brother Leon, the acting headmaster, solicits the help of the Vigils to make sure it goes well.  But Jerry refuses to sell, trying to find some way to assert his rejection of the tyrannical mob rule and cruelty he sees in the school.  Jerry's refusal sparks a mild rebellion amongst the student body and the chocolate sale is lagging terribly. But when the Vigils do get behind the sale, suddenly it takes off.  Whether or not they are legitimate results, every student but Jerry is credited with achieving their sales goals.  Jerry becomes the focus of a vicious mental and physical campaign of intimidation. After suffering a group beating, Jerry's frustration and anger come to a boil so that he can be tricked into an unfair public fight with a bully.  Jerry ends up getting beaten within an inch of his life.  His jaw and ribs are broken and he is unconscious, taken away in an ambulance.  Archie, the architect of this all, appears to be on the verge of punishment until Brother Leon shows up and waves it all away with a "boys will be boys" philosophy.

It's all fun and games till someone breaks their jaw and has to get it wired...

And that is the end of the book.

I finished reading this book at 3:30 am this morning and as I closed the back cover I felt an unfamiliar sensation.  For the first time in a very long time I felt legitimately angry.  I mean, like....anger!  Those of you who know me know I don't really get angry.  I get frustrated and annoyed and anti social but not really angry.  As it turns out, one of the very very few things that make me angry is...can you guess from the title of this post?  Books!  The last time I was angry like this was after reading the introduction to Chuck Palahniuk's Fight Club (I didn't make it past the introduction because it made me so angry). And before that it was on the train from Paris to London as I read Tess of the D'Ubervilles and fought the urge to hurl it across the car and brain some innocent bystander...er...sitter.

I was so angry that I couldn't sleep.  I pulled my phone out and typed an angry ranty email to my friend as the only vent I had to my feelings.

Because how can this not be therapeutic?
(Also, this picture came from this tumblr:
 http://www.flickr.com/photos/wagerber/3068239625/sizes/m/in/photostream/ )

So I was angry, you get it.  Why was I so angry?

Do you remember how a lot of people said they didn't like The Dark Knight because it was just "too dark for me"?  My response to that was always the same.  The Dark Knight had to be dark a.) because it's in the name and b.) because there must be dark to see the light.  The reason I rank that movie as one of the best films of all time (for seriousness, I do) is because it makes the argument that People, as a whole, are good.  This is an argument that seems to be out of vogue these days, which makes me sad.  Hence I am so in love with The Dark Knight.  What?  People are good?  They won't just...kill everyone else to save themselves?  How refreshing!

Contrast that with Cormier's story.  At it's most reduced, basic level, Cormier has written the story of how all people are either vicious, remorseless, cruel bullies, or they're cowards who let the bullies have their way.

And that is what makes me angry: the presumption of any man on earth to imply such a degenerate image of mankind.  I find that it...offends me to read such a picture of humanity.  Don't misunderstand me--I am well aware of the horrifically long history our species has for cruelty.  But I am also aware that in every single account of depravity there will be stories of  compassion and fellowship.  If humans have the ability to appall each other with their cruelty, surely they also have the ability to astound us with their nobility and love?

cliche but applicable...

So who is a man like Cormier....or Palahnuik or Thomas Hardy...to reject that spark of goodness?  I understand the urge to write "reality" and there is certainly enough hatred, violence, and cruelty in the world. But I must protest on two counts.  The first is that, if you want to write reality, you can't ignore those bright shining lights of goodness no matter how misanthropic a view of humanity you have.  And the second is that if you write a story like The Chocolate War or Fight Club and send it out into this dark world and people read it and see nothing but more darkness then what have you done but convince them of the futility of goodness and light?

I guess what made me so angry was the way the book seemed to have given up on goodness.  None of the characters felt any remorse for their actions or even appeared to have any awareness that they had behaved incorrectly.  I do believe that all people have an inherent goodness in them--we Mormons call it the Inner Light of Christ, but you can call it whatever you want.  It boils down to a conscience.  The ability to know that good is good and evil is evil (evil, as distinct from "badness" which is open to interpretation).  I reject the idea that goodness doesn't exist and that people, if left unchecked, will devolve into depravity.  I stand up for goodness.

Little Miss Sunshine: Real Life Sucks

I've always been intrigued by Greg Kinnear's carier.  These are the Greg Kinnear movies I've seen:

Ghost Town
Little Miss Sunshine
Robots
Stuck On You
Someone Like You
Mystery Men
You've Got Mail
As Good As It Gets
Sabrina

Since I'm sure you didn't click on that link, I feel it important to let you know that those eight films come from a 49 title body of work that is really pretty impressive.  Which is to say that my impression of his career may not be at all accurate.  But the impression that I've gotten from Greg Kinnear is that, when he's not playing a little bit of a jerk: Sabrina, You've Got Mail, Ghost Town, Little Miss Sunshine, Someone Like You, Mystery Men, Robots...dang...I never realized how he's a bit of a jerk in, like, virtually ever movie I've ever seen him in...anyway, when he isn't playing that character he is playing really nice guys who gets a bit taken advantage of.  A little like James Marsden (I was so happy to see him finally get the girl in 27 Dresses...finally he got to play someone other than the nice guy who gets screwed!).

Look at him...bein' so nice!

His two personas overlap in the movie Little Miss Sunshine.  I just watched it again today.  I love that movie so much.  I mean...so much.  So much that I'm writing a blog post about it.  And why do I love it so much?  Because of the way Greg Kinnear's two personas overlap, and how that is representative of the entire film.  That is to say, I love Little Miss Sunshine because in that movie every single character's life goes completely to hell, and those series of events and the characters' reactions are so exquisitely true to life.

If you haven't seen the movie then I guess....spoilers?  It's not really a film you can spoil, but whatever.  I'll put a break and you can make your choices...

The summer of Emily!

Except that it is the Summer of Emily.

Or, even more accurately, The Summer of Adventure!

I wanted it to be the Summer of Sewing, but I do not yet have a sewing machine.  So I decided to start my Summer of Adventure by making a trip I've been thinking about for a long time.

This is Spiral Jetty.  It's a giant piece of installation artwork on the northern end of The Great Salt Lake

Here's a map, to give you an idea what I mean:

It's not quite 3 hours from Provo.  While I was not aware exactly where the thing was located, I have wanted to see it for a really long time.  So I decided last week that I was going to go.  Even after I found out how far away it is.  Callie was unsure at first, (she said the thought of driving for three hours to a place that was not her home seemed ridiculous) but she eventually decided to come along.

So, as it turns out, there are actually two jetties out there on the northern end of The Great Salt Lake.  There is the Spiral Jetty, and then there is another, longer, straighter, more nameless jetty just a little before it.  Amusingly enough, I only just learned this a few minutes ago, along with the sad realization that...we never actually made it to Spiral Jetty.

How did I not notice, you may well be wondering, that this jetty did no spiraling whatsoever?  That this jetty was in one tenaciously straight line?  Because it was half underwater is how.  Go look at that picture again, and you'll see that there is a long stretch from shore that is perfectly straight, yes?  Well, I didn't know how big the thing was, so when I saw that the end of the jetty was underwater I just assumed that it was really really big, and underwater and all we could see was the straight bit, with a little bit of a bend at the end.  And I'm not too bright.  So sue me.  The salt flats weren't what I was expecting either when I went to see them last summer because they, too, were underwater so I just figured I had really bad luck...

That being said, the jetty we did see was pretty freakin' amazing!

It was gorgeous and sunny with a fair wind.  My hair spent the entire time rebelling and blowing in my face.  Which was pretty cool I guess...

Callie always looks so adorable...darn her...

Fun fact: seagulls and herons in flight make the most fantastic
squdgy sound as they flap...

this is my favorite picture

In addition to my wish to see Spiral Jetty, I also came up with this strange goal: I wanted to walk out to to the end and I wanted to have my own crazy ipod dance party.  Which I totally did.

I had to pick my way across the "washed out" bit of the jetty
and try to keep my shoes dry.  Totally nailed it.

Callie didn't want to get her shoes wet, so she did not come with me to the very end.  So all by myself I took out my ipod, turned on some Rihanna "We Found Love in a Hopeless Place", and started dancing.  Well, technically it took me about a song to get into it.  But I danced for about three songs out there, waving my arms like a crazy person and trying really hard not to twist my ankles on loose rocks.  It was...pretty fantastic.


Though Spiral Jetty was the primary goal of our trip, we made an unexpected detour on the way there.  The road out led us right past the Golden Spike National Historic Site.  We were planning just driving past, but as we approached it we saw two big, beautiful, steam engines gleaming in the sunlight.  We couldn't resist.  We got there just in time for the end of...the reenactment!  Yeah!  Apparently, for maybe two or three weeks, around the anniversary of the driving of the final nail, they do daily reenactments of the historic moment, and bring out those two fantastic steam engines.  We got to watch them pound the spikes in and Callie got a picture holding one of them.

Then we got to wander around the trains taking pictures of them.  I thought the man on this one looked pretty legitimate.

Then, on the way home, after The Jetty That is Not a Spiral, we realized that the place where we got off the freeway (exit 365, in case you were wondering) was not actually a place where you can also get back on the freeway (who does that?) so we ended up taking an involuntary, but very charming drive through downtown Brigham City.  I wanted to buy some lovely blue flats I'd seen at H&M in London (vainly hoped they would also exist here...not so much) so we stopped there and Callie bought some new butter yellow keds to replace the shoes she had managed to cover with tar on our trip.

Our last stop before finally getting back to Provo was the Asian market, where I bought two bags of the milk-flavored chews I love so much, two boxes of mochi ice cream, and a bag of these really fantastic marshmallows filled with orange jelly.  Oh, and a weird pseudo ice cream cone for Calie

looked like a milkshake that melted and then re-congealed...mmm!

And then it was back to Provo to watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind with John, Bryan, Summer, and Kat.  I love that movie and I always will.  It is just so fantastic.  It was made even more fantastic when I came home and saw the "super moon" floating over my complex.  Quite beautiful!

So, I guess I'll have to make another trip out to Spiral Jetty one of these days since I still technically haven't seen it.  I'll admit, I'm a little bummed out that we didn't ever actually make it, but really, it's pretty funny.  And luckily, next week's adventure is Hoggle Zoo in Salt Lake.  I don't think there will be any sort of secret "second" zoo to get me confused so I'll have to end up in the right place at the right time.  I'll keep you posted...

A Declaration of Self

I debated for a long while whether or not I wanted to post this, and then whether or not I wanted to post all of it.  But, obviously, in the end I decided to share it exactly as I wrote it because most of the time I choose not to say the thing I want to say and I don't know if that is the right decision always.  So this time I'm saying it and we'll see what happens.  This post is dedicated to a good friend of mine, that he may do with it what he wishes:

I have amazing friends.  Amazing, brilliant, ambitious friends who plan to go out into the world and set it on fire.  I have friends who plan on going and putting out those fires when they get out of control.  I look at my friends and I know that the future of this world is in good hands. 

But that’s not me.  When the time comes for that conversation and everyone is laying out their Lives of Awesomeness I am content to let them talk.  Because I plan on living a small life. 

A small life, not to be confused with an unimportant life, is one concerned with small things.  It is not a life that takes in the grand sweep of politics and the swirling world-governing laws of science.  It is a life centered on people.  A life centered on my future family.  A life that may travel the world, but will never move it—at least, not overtly. 

Perhaps the most inflammatory essay I ever wrote centered on the two different types of civic involvement.  I referenced the schools of thought of W.E.B. Dubois and Booker T. Washington from the Civil Rights Era (I was, at the time, applying these philosophies to issues of feminism).  Dubois was a staunch advocate of aggressive and even violent change.  If the world isn’t right then you scream and kick and shove until it is.  Make people notice you.  Make people notice the problem.  Make people change!  Washington, on the other hand, espoused almost the polar opposite policy.  If the world isn’t right then tuck in and do the best you can.  Work hard, live right by yourself, and eventually people will notice.  Right comes out in the end. 

Then and now I unabashedly align myself with Washington.  I am so glad that we have Duboisians and I am so glad that I do not have to be one of them.  Both are, I think, required to change the world and it is for that reason that I feel no embarrassment, shame, or guilt for my lifestyle.

And what, exactly, is my lifestyle?  It is a life in progress.  I am not perfect, in fact I am so far from it that I don’t think I could see perfect with one of those telescopes that they use to look at planets in other galaxies. 

But I am trying to, and mostly succeeding in, being happy.

I live a life that revolves around books and movies and jokes and thinking and most importantly of all, my life revolves around the people I love.  Those of you who know me the best hopefully know that that is true.  I live life on an individual basis, not a grand scope. 

These are all broad, practically generic statements.  I’m struggling to express myself adequately without getting caught up in unnecessary detail but I feel that doing so is reducing my thoughts to truisms.  I can only assure you that I mean what I say. 

What do I most want to say? 

I know who I am and I am happy with that person.  I have chosen the life that I am leading and I am satisfied with that choice.  I love so many things in this world and I am happy that I get to experience them all and live this small life of mine.  I am so glad that I have the luxury of forming my own future and growing slowly into the person I want to be.

And if my small life doesn’t seem up to par with yours, then you can go to hell. 

The Descendants

Don't worry, I'll be writing up the rest of my Europe adventure soon.  But I wanted to write this up tonight while I was thinking about it...and it's sort of connected to my trip...

My flights to and from Europe were, as expected, exceedingly long.  I watched many movies.  The last movie I watched was The Descendants

In case you haven't heard of it, The Descendants is the movie that scooped up all the awards that were leftover after The Artist swept through (incidentally, I also watched The Artist on my flight and I highly recommend it--so awesome!).  Briefly, it is about a man who has to reevaluate his life when his wife is critically injured in a boating accident just when he is also facing a massive financial decision.  His relationship with his home, his heritage, and his two daughters are all examined.  That so doesn't do the movie justice, but it is enough to be going one with.

Now, as I say, this was the last movie I watched, and I didn't quite time it right.  I was about 15-20 minutes from the end of the movie when the plane started to land and they turned the movie off.  It was sort of in the midst of a major moment and I was like "WHA.....???!"  So last Thursday, when my good friend John asked me if I wanted to come over and watch The Descendants with him and Bryan I jumped at the chance.  Not only was I willing to watch the movie again when it wasn't on a wretched 4" LCD chair-screen, but I was dying to know how it ended.

One of the things I really loved about this movie was George Clooney's character, Matt King.  He is a good man who knows how and when to control himself--a trait I value incredibly highly.  When he finds out that his wife was cheating on him his first priority is to protect his daughters.  His eldest already knows, but his youngest, a challenging 10 year old, has no idea.  At one point his older daughter goes in to see her mother and starts shouting accusations at her.  He pulls her aside and pleads with her "Don't ruin your mother for Scotty!"  I loved that so much.  And I loved that only one time do you see him cave in and vent some of the massive anger you know he must be feeling.  For a brief moment he is alone with his wife and he breaks down shouting at her.  But very quickly he collects himself and you never see that anger expressed again.  Not even in the face of his father-in-law's cruel and unfair accusations.  I can't really explain how much this meant to me.  So often stories glamorize and advocate the lack of control as the only "real" way to experience emotions and I think this movie was a beautiful contrast.

But my favorite scene was the last one.  The scene I missed on my flight.  It isn't anything dramatic or exciting.  It's just one long straight shot, as though you're looking out of their living room TV right at their couch.  Scotty, the youngest, is tucked into a corner, wrapped in her mother's old blanket, and you see her father coming back from the kitchen with two bowls.  He sits down next to her and hands her one bowl, filled with strawberry ice cream, and pulls the blanket over himself as well while holding his bowl of mocha chip.  They sit there, eating their ice cream, watching a documentary narrated by Morgan Freeman, and you can see the elder daughter walk by in the background.  She pauses, then comes in to the room and perches on the edge of the couch next to her father.  He scoots over so she has room and pulls the blanket over her as well, while she sinks back into the couch against him.  After he settles the blanket over her, he hands her his bowl of ice cream and they all watch the TV.  He reaches over and takes a bite of strawberry ice cream, the camera watches them watching the show, and then the scene ends.

After the movie ended they asked me where exactly I'd gotten cut off the first time.  I told them and explained how sad that was because that last scene was my favorite in the whole movie.  Callie agreed, but then scoffed "Except...I'd love to see any family that actually does that.  Everyone sits on the same couch, under the same blanket, with only two bowls of ice cream?"

It was one of those moments where you feel yourself creating a future memory in your head.  The moment where something hits that perfect soft spot in your soul and you know that one day you will recreate that moment in your own life.  That's how I felt about that scene as I was watching it.  Then, when Callie scoffed at it I was sad, as though she was telling me that I couldn't create that in my own future family one day.  That beautiful moment of unity and comfort.

But I will create that.  I will have a moment under the same blanket, sharing ice cream, all on the same couch with my children.  And when that moment happens, I will look at my life from above for just one second and I will see that I have fulfilled my dream and my soul will be completely and utterly content for a heartbeat.