the promise of good things to come

* i spent the weekend at my parents’ place. on saturday, i did five loads of laundry – it felt as though i was washing every single thing i own – and then cleaned their house. toilets, sinks, floors, etc. it was very productive, and tiring in a good way.

* next sunday, trix, her friend and i will bask in déjà vu to re-install the laminate flooring in her basement. we're hoping it's a relatively quick and painless endeavour, but all secretly fear there's the potential for lots of headaches, blisters and profanity -- since one cracked panel or chipped edge could mean the entire project is delayed.

* my mom and i made* the Most Amazing Soup EVAH (*with thanks to giada de laurentiis) yesterday. chock full of goodness and nutrients and flavour. the recipe was supposed to make 10 servings, but my parents and i ate five bowls between us... and then froze 14 (!) more. i will be eating this soup from now until christmas, there’s that much left. but that’s okay because, as mentioned, it was fantastic. and i felt so proud of having made it under mom’s watchful eye.

* after a grocery-shopping trip, my fridge and cupboards are now fully re-stocked. my most exciting purchases: a big bag of fresh, plump, firm cherries and a box of chocolate-chip-pecan cookies. i also picked up lots of whole grain pasta. yogurt. fruit. milk. bagels. popcorn. grape pop. and brought home some frozen chili (and soup!).

* this morning, in the still-cool air, i walked to the library to pick up all the requested items that came in for me, including the first (of many) research materials for my new project. i’m looking forward to exploring this little-known corner of history and, hopefully, eventually creating something unique.

* young beatrix has loaned me her canon EOS rebel XT camera – which she inherited (gratis!) from a camera-loving friend with surplus inventory, and hasn't really used herself – so that i can learn how to master it. there’s a detailed instruction manual, and i’m super-excited about taking some photos with a “fancy” camera instead of just my little 7.0MP point-and-shoot. nevermind the prospect of lenses and remote shutter-release triggers.

* tomorrow is june 1st. i kind of can’t believe it.

inhaling june

i'm not sure what it is that makes the air outside smell like it does at this time of year. but i love it.

sweet and fragrant, like baby-laundry detergent and subtle floral blooms swirled together to create a mysterious, intoxicating aroma that always reminds me of backyards at sunrise, and the last day of school, and my birthday.

the air only ever smells like this for a few special weeks each year as spring reluctantly makes way for the arrival of summer.

but, when it does, i lie in bed in the early morning and, with a smile of recognition, deeply inhale that rare magic as it drifts in through my open windows.

howard

when i watch the news about the oil spill in the gulf, my heart breaks.
the devastation is mind-boggling and the long-term damage beyond tragic.
i worry about my gentle, stoic heron friend, howard,
the dolphins i saw swimming in the waters on either side of the building,
and all the other beautiful birds and animals i encountered in florida.
and it makes me want to cry.

big love for big red

as silly as it might sound, i love my couch.

i’ve had it for 11 years.

"big red."

colourful, oafy pillows and fat arms and wide lap and sturdy back.

it was the first major piece of furniture i ever bought, the first important purchase i made when i set out to begin my life as an independent adult, and i chose wisely.

it was with me through seven years at hell house, spent several months patiently wrapped up in storage, and then made the move with me to my current apartment where it now sits.

it’s supported me through difficult times, comforted me when i’ve been sick and provided the perfect refuge when the world outside my door knocked me down.

i’ve nestled into it to watch TV, listen to music, read books, write screenplays, finish crosswords, pen christmas cards, wrap birthday presents, eat meals, talk on the phone, daydream and star gaze.

it’s been there as i’ve laughed and as i’ve cried. when i’ve felt wonderful and when i’ve felt horrible. through some of the best moments of my life and some of the worst.

and sometimes, when the sun shines in the windows late in the day and low in the sky so that the entire room becomes bathed in a beautiful, golden glow, i just look at big red and feel extremely grateful it’s there.

whatevs

* it’s hot in toronto. it’s been hot for the past couple of days, and will still be hot through tomorrow night. i do not enjoy the heat. there is no pool on hand in which i might dunk myself, and the only breeze coming in through my windows is not unlike that which would blow from a hair dryer. which is to say: hot.

* the aforementioned heat makes me just want to lie on the couch in front of my fan and nap.

* yesterday i decided to escape said heat by going to a movie. a nearby theatre still has $5 tuesdays (hooray!), so i went to see The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, which was not only a blissful two-hours-and-32-minutes long (that’s bang for your buck! and a long stretch of air-conditioned relief!), but an excellent film. by the time it was over and i walked the half-hour home around 8pm, the air was cooler.

* tonight, before heading to another screening, i will have a (junior) burrito at moe’s. i just looked up the nutritional info, and it has 20g of protein. my body will be happy.

* i have become dedicated to first-thing-in-the-morning exercise. for the past few days, and likely inspired by my morning walk + swim in florida, i’ve been getting up, getting dressed and heading out right away for a 50-minute power walk. something about coming home completely sweaty and then having a nice shower before settling in for breakfast makes me feel like i’ve done something good for myself.

* in a day or two, as soon as the books come in at the library, i will begin research for a new project. i’d do online research in the meantime but... see: first three items on the list pertaining to excessive heat.

* remember the beautiful laminate flooring YB, her friend and i installed ourselves in her basement rec room a few months ago? it’s all been torn up. just days before she had to leave for florida, trix discovered her plumbing wasn’t draining and, after an emergency call to some plumbers, learned she had a cracked clay pipe below the foundation of her house. so her entire basement floor had to be dug up in order for the repairs to be made. this means that we’ll all be doing the whole floor all over again some weekend very soon.

* i have absolutely no interest in seeing the new Shrek movie. i can’t stand him.

travel tales: blow-tanical gardens

as many of you know, i enjoy photographing flowers.

so, it should come as no surprise that one of the things i was looking forward to doing while on vacation was snapping shots of exotic, not-indigenous-to-toronto flora while down south. i imagined all kinds of bizarre, beautiful flowers just waiting for me to take their picture.

but the pickins were somewhat slim, in terms of the flowers we came across in our day to day activities so, on my final evening, my mom and i decided to visit the florida botanical gardens. it sounded ideal – acres and acres of gardens, and FREE admission! perfect! we figured going late in the day would be best because we wouldn’t: 1. die of heat stroke, 2. die of sun stroke, 3. be forced to endure large crowds of people, some of whom might want to stroke us, each other or, you know, themselves.

the park closes at 7pm nightly, so we drove up just after 5pm, figuring 90 minutes or so of wandering among botanical splendor would be just right.

but we should have known from the get-go that this field trip was destined to be one massive FAIL. the parking lot was completely empty. not “there were only a few cars.” COMPLETELY EMPTY. not a single car.

we parked, and then decided to begin our visit with a stop at the visitor’s center so that we might pick up a map, locate the washrooms for reference and get our bearings. we walked to its front doors – locked. lights off. nobody home. we looked at the hours: closed at 5pm. awesome.

nonetheless, we decided to be intrepid explorers and to head into the park ourselves. we were mildly alarmed at the number of posted signs cautioning against alligators, and the entire place was located in what appeared to be a very lush, somewhat unmanaged forest, but we consulted a pathside map of the grounds to determine where we were and where we wanted to, and then pressed on...

... through the completely desolate, deserted and seemingly abandoned park.

there was no one there. not a single person. ANYWHERE. no visitors, no staff, nobody. at first, it was kind of interesting, being the only people around... and then it just got creepy. all the fountains and artificial streams/waterworks had been turned off and, based on the bone-dry cement and piping, hadn’t been on in quite a while.

the only thing missing was a tumbleweed or two blowing through.

we walked amid the “gardens,” which were small and boring and sparsely populated with flowers. there were tons and tons of palm trees and leafy hedges all over the place, but flowers? a few sprinkled here and there, looking anemic and thirsty. the gazebos and seating areas were barren, and a stop in the “wedding garden” produced only a thoughtful engraving about the meaning of love.

as we carried on, getting more and more fed up and disillusioned as we went, i could tell mom was getting nervous. the complete lack of people was starting to freak her out – there was nothing to prevent some psychotic weirdo from leaping out at us from some bushes, for example, and the whole place was giving off a weird this-could-be-the-setting-for-a-horror-movie vibe – so almost as soon as we began our walk in, we turned around to head back out.

i took exactly four photos, including the iris you see above. in hindsight, i should have snapped some of the vast emptiness around us, just for use with this blog entry, but “photographing disappointment” wasn’t high enough on my priority list, i guess. on our way across a bridge over one of the many marshes in the park, we looked down to see two large, moss-covered turtles swimming just below the surface of the very-murky water.

and that was the sum total of our exciting sightings.

to be fair, we did see a few signs saying something to the effect of “please excuse us during our renovation,” so maybe we should have expected a decidedly under-construction environment. instead, we completed our entire visit – sweaty from the lingering heat and dejected from the underwhelmingness of it all – in approximately 30 minutes, and managed to make it home early enough to catch the final half-hour of that day’s Ca$h Cab.

*pause*

it's Lost Finale Night. i cannot be expected to blog.

showered? check. pyjamas already on at 6:45pm? check. big bag of PC sweet & salty kettle corn popcorn on hand? check.

let the end begin.

travel tales: dragonflown

a strange phenomenon occured while i was in florida:

everywhere we went, there were tons of dragonflies.

here in toronto, over the course of an entire summer, i might see a half-dozen of them, total. but there, i literally saw a dozen or more within any given hour, almost from the moment i stepped off the plane and walked across the outdoor pedestrian bridge to the parking garage at the airport on day one.

they were big and beautiful and very hard to miss. and there were so many of them.

i wondered if there was some natural-world explanation for their ubiquity, like the state had perhaps an influx due to some sort of disturbance in the food chain or something, since my previous trips to florida had always been decidedly dragonfly-free. but there was nothing on the news, and no one seemed particularly distracted by or interested in their presence or population.

yet the sheer number of dragonflies i saw was staggering... especially since, save for love bugs, there were precious few insects of any kind around anywhere in st. petersburg and tampa. no wasps. no hornets. and only the occasional meaty house fly beating itself against the windows in the office of the condo building.

i saw them every day, morning, noon and evening, no matter where we were. they were so large that spotting them was easy against a cloudless blue sky. and the last thing i glimpsed from the plane before taking off for home on my last day were a few dragonflies swooping and swirling in the grasses surrounding the runways. it was so weird.

shortly after returning to toronto, i was online and chatting with a friend in seattle. i told her about the dragonfly phenomenon. she immediately googled and what she found was strangely magical in that signs-from-the-universe kind of way.

depending on which source you choose to believe, the presence of dragonflies can signify change, or represent renewal and rebirth, or symbolize love and hope and strength, or serve as a reminder to attend to one’s innermost thoughts and desires.

i suddenly felt all warm and fuzzy inside about having witnessed (however unknowingly at the time) this profound physical manifestation of my internal experience on my holiday. it was like a colourful, poetic cosmic wink sent in my direction.

but the most bizarre, goosebump-inducing part of this story happened for me a few days after i got home.

i was on the phone with young beatrix, who’s in florida now, having assumed my spot at the condo. after chatting about the weather and the beach and target popcorn, i asked her what she thought of all the dragonflies.

and she said she hadn’t seen any.

travel tales: snacked

target popcorn

kèva kolada

starbucks mocha frappucino ice cream

raisinettes (milk chocolate)

target popcorn

barbecue chex mix

auntie anne’s pretzels

pepperidge farm golden orchard collection cookies

orange tic tacs

target popcorn

sweet’s orange sticks

sweet’s raspberry sticks

cherry dr. pepper icee

key lime pie (@ the pie factory)

target popcorn

pausing for consideration

(note: further travel tales will resume tomorrow.)

earlier tonight, i met up with my nurse friend. she’s been out of the country for a month on her honeymoon, so we were catching up. we talked for a while – she asked how i’d been, and vice versa, and i updated her on health matters and such.

in her absence, i’d taken over running the weekly meditation group for two sessions, and she wondered how it had gone. as a group veteran, i’ve run it before, and i said that i’d actually quite enjoyed doing it this time. that there was something about that sense of duty or responsibility or what have you that made me feel good... like i’d accomplished something, and done something positive and productive (however slight) on those days.

“would you ever consider becoming a teacher?” she asked. meaning: would i ever consider taking the certification courses and undergoing the intensive training so that i could teach this meditation process to classes.

“oh, i don’t think so,” i said. at this point, i'm not willing to commit that kind of time, energy, money and more time to something i don't want to pursue as a career.

then she asked me if i would be interested in apprenticing with her the next time she teaches a class. “you could just help me run the class. would you be up for that?”

and my first reaction was no.

it’s a big responsibility, and there’s a massive level of trust involved on the part of the participants. the people in the classes – which run for eight-week sessions – often have serious illnesses, or are recovering from serious illnesses, or have stress-related mental-health issues (e.g., depression, anxiety, etc.) and have actually been prescribed the course by a physician. so it’s not like i could half-ass it, or cut and run if i decided it wasn’t for me.

plus, i felt like i’d be phoning it in – my meditation practice has been choppy at best of late, and that’s after a loooooooong spell of no meditation at all, so i said, “i don’t know if i have the right to be teaching or helping to teach, because i have no practice at the moment.”

“if you did this, you’d have a practice,” said my nurse friend reassuringly and encouragingly.

i told her i’d think about it. i was very honoured that she would ask me to do this because, as i said, the course is not something anyone at the hospital takes lightly, and leading it is not something just anyone can do... or is allowed to do. even in an apprenticeship capacity. it's kind of a big deal, and i'm treating the decision accordingly.

and the more i’ve thought about it, the more i think i might do it.

travel tales: putting my feet down

when i was a kid, many of my summer days were spent shoeless. playing outside in bare feet, on the driveways or sidewalks or lawns or what have you, was the norm, and i still remember exactly what each surface felt like... especially in the blazing august sunshine.

as an adult, the opportunities to do that have become far fewer. but, while i was in florida, not only did i eschew socks for eight whole days (i didn’t even pack shoes, only flip flops), i spent a fair bit of time in bare feet. inside and outside.

it was not only liberating, but kind of fascinating in a textural, tactile way. and, like my childhood escapades, each surface imprinted a clear, distinct sense memory in my mind.

the toasted interlocking brick surrounding the pool.

the first cool step into the shallow end in the morning.

the brittle pine needles lining the sidewalks.

the smooth asphalt in the covered parking lot downstairs.

the rough asphalt in the uncovered parking lot next door.

the chilled ceramic tiles in the living room.

the wooly, decades-old carpet pile in the bedroom.

the super-soft bath mat in front of the sink.

the grit of the balcony floor.

the greasy vinyl covering the ottoman.

the fine, powdery beach sand between my toes.

the jagged, broken shells along the shores of the gulf.

the dampness of the beach during low tide.

the warm, swirling water of the incoming waves.

the occasional brush of seaweed or random debris in said waves.

the gentle strokes of wind against wet feet drying in the sun.

the world underfoot, in all its glory, experienced without interference, embraced without reservation.

travel tales: the bathing suit bummer

i love swimming. always have, always will. but it had been three years since my last swim when i suited up again on my first day in florida.

i couldn’t wait to get in the pool – something about being in water is just instantly relaxing for me, and i knew it would be fairly empty after 6pm – so i unpacked my bathing suit, put it on, grabbed my towel and headed downstairs.

success! empty pool! the water was warm (i’m choosing to believe it was from the heat of the all-day sun, and not from a dozen small children peeing in it en masse an hour earlier or something) and i got right in. i did some laps, treaded water for a while to work my stiff-from-the-plane muscles and floated on my back so that i could just gaze up at the cloudless blue sky with my ears underwater to muffle the (admittedly limited at that time in that location) sounds of the world around me. it was wonderful.

i swam for about half an hour, taking breaks to sit on the steps in the shallow end. when i did, i noticed that the bum area of my bathing suit felt strangely pill-y. you know, like a sweater when it gets pill-y. i wondered if years of use had perhaps compromised the integrity of the fabric, and if repeated seatings on steps like this might have “scuffed” the rear of the suit. after all, i’d worn this same suit for, i dunno, at least six years so a little wear and tear was to be expected.

i got out of the pool and walked over to where my mom had reclined on a deck chair. i dried off, wandering around the pool deck to look out at the beach and the setting sun, and then just kind of stood and absorbed the fact that i was on vacation.

it was only about an hour later, when we returned to the condo and i decided to doublecheck the questionable fabric on my bathing suit, that i came to the horrifying realization that the material was not only pill-y, it was TRANSPARENT.

yes, evidently my bathing suit – which i’d not worn in three years and which i didn’t test drive before that night’s swim – had reached its breaking point, and the fabric gave out on me, just dissolving or melting or floating away once i’d entered the water. i’m not exactly sure *what* happened to it, but it was nicely see-through. the bum area, along with a strip along each side of my ribcage, was THREADBARE.

i had a good hard laugh, then showed my mother, who – bless her – kept saying, “it’s fine! you can’t see anything!”

it wasn’t until after my shower, when the bathing suit was hung up to dry and i held it up to a light to demonstrate its newly installed “windows,” that she said, “oh. you’re right.”

and then laughed.

unsurprisingly, i wasn’t about to put that suit back on. like, EVER. so we spent almost all day the next day searching for a replacement. apparently, despite being florida, florida has precious few swim suits. lots of “fashion” suits – things made of dental floss, or embroidered with large flowers, or with a froofy skirt attached – but nary a speedo to be seen or found anywhere.

at dillard’s, i approached the saleswoman in the swimwear department to inquire after such a speedo.

“hi, do you carry speedos?”

she looked at me blankly.

“carry what?”

“speedos.”

“what do they look like?” (did i mention this was IN the swimwear department? i instantly lost any confidence i might have had that this woman would be able to help me.)

“well, they’re bathing suits.”

she looked around at the racks surrounding us, none of which were holding speedos or anything resembling something that wouldn’t leave me as naked as my threadbare suit.

“well, we have these...”

she pointed half-heartedly towards some very clearly labeled reebok bathing suits. i shook my head. (i’m sorry, but i refuse to buy a bathing suit manufactured by a shoe company.)

“thanks, anyway.”

this happened at every single department store we visited, as well as at ross and marshall’s, so i finally stopped a guy while he was buying a pretzel at auntie anne’s (OMG) and said, “excuse me, do you know if there are any sporting goods stores around here? like, within five miles or so?”

and he immediately suggested a nearby sports authority.

where they had racks and racks of speedos. and TYRs. and swimsuits people use to actually swim in.

and there, amid the vast selection, i found my new bathing suit.

on sale.

thus, with bum safely covered, i was able to swim freely once again.

fin.

unwound

so, i went to florida for eight days.

it was the first vacation i’ve had in three years (i don’t count the odd weekend in buffalo as a “vacation”), and one that arrived at the right time. i really felt like i needed to get away, to go away, to just not be here – as in, here where i live and here online – for a while.

2010 hasn’t been the best year and it’s taken its toll on me. i was pretty spent, physically and emotionally, by the time i started packing and i was really looking forward to unplugging, leaving everything behind and just escaping. i felt like i’d been suffocating myself and it was time to breathe again.

and the trip was really lovely.

i stayed at a beachside condo with my mom, who’s been renting the same unit for three weeks every spring for about seven or eight years. it’s big but basic, and was probably decorated in the late-1980s, but it’s cheap and clean and has a pool and more than serves its purpose.

i swam every day, walked on the beach and watched the sun set every night, and – despite my fears that i’d run face first into e-withdrawal – did not check email or facebook or this blog for the duration of my stay. as soon as i arrived there, i had no interest in logging on at all... so i didn’t. i was surprised at how easy it was, and how reluctant i was to get back online upon my return. (there, my fears were realized: my first full day back home was spent almost entirely on the computer, and it’s been that way since. alas.)

there were many funny moments, touching moments, beautiful moments, silly moments and moments of fantastic snacking. i’ll share some of them over the next few days.

there was also a fair bit of introspection. something about sitting on the sand and watching the setting sun lends itself really well to retreating into one’s own thoughts. i’ll probably share a little of that over the next few days, as well.

more than anything, though, those eight days were a chance for me to take a deep breath and to unwind instead of unravel. to borrow from a michigan tourism commercial that’s currently airing: being away from everything i know gave me a chance to be a little more of myself for a bit.

and that was nice.

introspective intermezzo

i thought i'd post a little something to read while i gather my thoughts before launching into the travel tales. and, curiously, it's tangentially related to the impending entries because, despite my hope of getting out of my head for a while, a lot of what i did on my trip was think.

about life, about myself, about where i'm going (or not going, as it were) and all kinds of feelings-y things.

today, i was catching up on what i'd missed while i was away, and that included checking my weekly Free Will Astrology horoscope. i found this week's oddly moving and strangely fitting:

Some of your illusions seeped into you before you learned to talk. Others sneaked into you later, while you were busy figuring out how to become yourself. Eventually, you even made conscious choices to adopt certain illusions because they provided you with comfort and consolation. There's no need to be ashamed of this. It's a natural part of being a human being. Having said that, I'm happy to announce that you're entering a phase when you will have the power to shed at least some of your illusions -- especially the ones you consciously chose -- in ways that don't hurt you. To begin the process, declare this intention: "I have the courage to see life as it really is."

i'm back...

... with enough blog material for at least a week's worth of entries. more later.

vickie unplugged

dear readers,

i’ll be offline for the next little while, and wanted you to know that this blog will also be on hiatus for a bit.

i’m going away and have decided not to bring my laptop with me – initially, i thought i’d cart it along, but i’ve come to realize that, though i spend waaaaaaay too much time at my computer, very little of what i actually do during that time is productive. so, i’m taking a break, a retreat of sorts, in a bid to clear my head and give myself room to breathe.

instead, i’m bringing pens and a sketchbook and will be writing/drawing/journaling old-school style – that’s right, by hand. with ink. on paper. when i get back, i might turn some of that writing into blog entries, but i suppose it depends on what i write.

despite what i suspect will be some intense withdrawal symptoms, i’m going to try to refrain from daily email checks (maybe every other day) and, unless i have something amazing or hilarious or über-brief that i feel i absolutely must share immediately, i probably won’t be updating this blog at all while i’m unplugged. i might, because i know quitting anything cold-turkey can be tough and i’m not yet sure of the firmness of my own resolve, but i’m hanging a “gone fishing” sign up for the time being.

back soon,
vickie

sundry

* i have had warm banana-chocolate crêpes as a meal two days in a row.

* conversely, two bananas died on my counter this morning. cause of death: a case of unmonitored ripening that progressed into terminal inedible mushiness within, it seems, 24 hours.

* i took the night off from the documentary festival because i was very tired.

* conversely, today was the first day at the fest when the strangers i met in line and in theatres were very chatty and friendly. and, for those of you who have followed my film festivalling in the past: i ran into mouthy martha at a screening this afternoon. she sat down next to a ticket scammer. i looked at both of them and thought, "that's sort of perfect."

* i have a huge craving for a fresh, well-done sirloin burger with lettuce, tomato and red onion.

* there is no "conversely" for that one. i really do want a burger.

interlude

this afternoon, i sat in the sun on a small, grassy hill, waiting in line for a film and wondering whether i'd applied enough sunscreen earlier so that i wouldn't actually be cooked as i sat.

then, seemingly out of nowhere, a ladybug landed on my right index finger.

i tilted my hand so that it could wander around, and it gradually wound its way between my fingers, then back along the top of the finger on which it had first landed.

and, when it reached the tip, it just gently took off and flew away.

subconsciously self-referential

last night, i had the hug dream again.

the details were different this time around, the tone was lighter, and there were no tears in this version, but the hugger, the context of the hug and the deep, soul-nourishing feelings accompanying it were the same.

peace. relief. forgiveness. understanding. comfort. contentment. healing. friendship. love.

and, within this incarnation of the hug dream, i actually remembered the first one.

i thought to myself, as the hug happened, "wow. this feels just like it did in that dream i had. i'm so glad it's happening for real, and that it's just as i imagined it would be."

it probably wasn't the last time i'll have that dream -- i find that when my subconscious references previous dreams in new ones, those dreams tend to recur -- and that's okay.

if something is going to repeat itself in my mind while i sleep, i'm glad it's something as lovely as this.

today's pearl of wisdom, courtesy of a documentary

if you want lightning to strike in your life
you're going to have to stand in the rain.

as seen onscreen

i’m attending toronto’s documentary film festival at present, so i apologize for what will likely be a week of sparse or somewhat succinct postings. by the time i get to this blog at the end of a movie-going day, i’m pooped and out of words.

tonight, i did want to share an observation about the fest, though.

or, perhaps, an observation about me at it.

while i always enjoy the environment, and know that getting out and seeing films and chatting with folks in line and running into festival friends is great and therapeutic, this year i had also hoped it would give me a break from my feelings for a bit. i’d step out of my own head and become engaged in other people’s lives and stories for a while as a means of escape.

but what i’d forgotten is how wonderful but emotionally exhausting documentaries can be, and how so much of what unspools is relateable – no matter where in the world it’s from or what the subject matter might be.

that is, at some point in every film, or all throughout certain films, something resonates with me. it might be someone’s situation, or a random spoken thought, or a theme, or a single shot that, with its beauty or poignancy or power, leaps right off the screen and into my heart, causing a catch-like feeling (or outright tears) because whatever it is has suddenly struck a chord.

moments like those remind me how, despite all the differences that exist among us, so many things are universal. people, experiences, challenges, joy, pain and, most importantly to me, feelings... be they ones you might be trying to squash down or embrace or avoid or accept or simply understand.

and that can be strangely comforting.