Nostalgia

I’ve been trying to be proactively happy.

A tendency I (do we all?) exhibit when confronting an obstacle is to regress to a time when things were easier, happier, and obvious. I look back to the past and think “What used to make me happy? What did I used to like?” and start doing those things. I end up playing more piano and thinking about Star Wars and wanting to take ballet lessons or play with toys.

I decided the other night that it was imperative that I watch Camelot. I’d never seen the movie – but I’ve seen the stage production numerous times, was addicted to the soundtrack in high school, spent study halls in the music room playing the score. I was never shy about indulging my Arthurian-legend-obsessed teenage self. It’s amazing that I didn’t turn out goth.

I put in the DVD last night after I begged D to give it ten minutes. “But its three hours long!” “Those three hours will fly, I swear!” D, being ever patient and ever seeking to make me happy without having to think about how to do it, agreed.

You can imagine my horror when Guinevere appeared in the movie and she was not Julie Andrews. Wtf!? I was mortified!

Vanessa Redgrave? WHAT!?!?

First of all, Vanessa Redgrave is adorable in it. I want to devour her. I have a minor girl crush on her. The banter between she and Richard Harris is precious, and believable.

Second of all, she’s all sex in it. Oh so sexy. I understand why Julie Andrews wouldn’t necessarily have been right for the part.

Third of all, she can’t sing. At. All.

It’s difficult when you’ve been attached to a particular soundtrack for years upon years and then someone destroys it.

I was trying to sing along and instead of actually singing, she speaks some of the lyrics! Because she can't sing! At all!

Oh, Julie, why!?! WHY!?!

D didn’t make any comments for the first 45 minutes. I couldn’t tell if he was being tortured or if he was actually getting something out of it. Every five minutes I’d say “You know, if you want to watch something else its ok…”

No response.

An hour into it he said “This is so campy.”

Campy good or campy bad? No way to tell!

Five minutes later “The costumes in this movie are amazing. Did it win any Oscars? The hats! The hats are awesome!”

“Yes, and the hair is awesome too.” Pause. “Do you want to watch something else? I swear I don’t mind… I can watch the rest in the bedroom.”

“NO! The first hour just flew by!”

Yes.

He said “We should write a Star Wars musical.”

“Yes, we should. I think I could do that in a day.”

During the joust (during which they do not sing the best song from the musical) he got up to do the dishes. He said “Honey, this cutting board reminds me of our trip to Saugerties! Remember when we did that? That was so fun! Remember the garlic festival? Oh, that was such a good time.”

I laughed and laughed, and then flipped him off. At least he’d listened.

We’d had a spat the night prior when I remarked (unrelated) that it’s strange to me the extent to which he does not ever acknowledge the relationship. “It’s just weird to me,” I said. I told him how he gives no feedback, good or bad. He never has an opinion about the relationship, and he doesn’t make mention of things that we’re going to do or have done. It’s like things never happened. Which is ok, I guess, but is weird because it is as though we don’t share any memories, nor do we share common goals (read: the trip). Consequently I never know what he’s thinking, if he’s having a good time, what he enjoys, what he might like to do, etc. and then, because I am a girl, I get insecure because I have to guess.

But he listened, and this is progress, so I laughed, which is what I needed.

We made it to the turning point in Camelot, where everyone starts being emo, and went to bed as we’d gotten only a few hours’ sleep the night before. Instead of going directly to sleep, we talked! About things like what it must have been like for our parents to date way back then! And what kind of people they are! And being too comfortable in life! And being frustrated with helpless people! And not wanting to be manipulated by people! And these topics were not entirely initiated by me!

I love progress, because it is what makes me happy. I didn’t have nightmares last night for the first time in about three weeks.

Progress!

(Sidenote: I am listening to Indie Pop Rocks on SomaFM right now and The Stills’ Animals and Insects is playing, which is a song that reminds me of when D and I were first dating [actually, I think he may have given it to me when we were just friends]. He’d lent me the album and I listened to it like a mental patient in the freezing cold every night in Williamsburg, where I waffled between being blissed out having a crush on the cutest boy ever and worrying about Uncle T, who was going to die and it was just a matter of when. On the street I’d sing the song at the top of my lungs to get out of myself. I think that maybe I could tell D, now, that this song reminds me of him and the beginning and how giddy he made me without even meaning to.)