"Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it ..."
In keeping with my last entry, I have been thinking a lot lately about my childhood and some of my fondest memories. It should be no surprise to people who have seen me grow up that I obsess over silly movies or TV shows, like Gilmore Girls or The Little Mermaid, watching them over and over again, even though I've seen them a hundred times over ...
It's two am and I'm sitting in my room - sans Weston as he is still in Texas - watching Anne of Green Gables on VHS. That's right folks, I said VHS! HARK! Who still watches VHS tapes? Well I do, especially when I can pop something in that I've watched hundreds of times before, that brings me back to the cold, winter evenings by the fire, sitting on the braided rug covering the floor of my grandmother and aunt's living room while watching their VHS, taped-from-TV version of Anne of Green Gables (stopped and started again during its initial recording to ensure commercials would not interrupt later viewings).
It suddenly dawned on me that I am far from the girl I used to be sitting on that rug, drinking tea and pretending I was wearing a dress with puffed sleeves, and secretly wishing I knew a boy as dreamy as Gilbert Blythe. I've grown up, I've graduated college, moved away from home to a city, and in with a boy! I couldn't even imagined where my life would lead me, the people I would meet or who I would become.
It seems strange, sitting here and feeling the same way I always do when I watch Anne of Green Gables, but reconciling that I, as girl, as an almost-woman, am completely different than I was back then ...
Maybe I'm not so different as it turns out?
I suppose we keep those childish, naive feelings and thoughts, the hopes and dreams we have when we're little. They get pushed to the back of our heads as knew knowledge is thrust in, as we're told to remember things that are imperative to us going on year after year after year in school.
It's funny know that I think about it ... how I dreamed of knowing a boy like Gilbert Blythe, tall, dark and handsome ...
I have my own now. Even when he maybe hundreds of miles away.
You know, I still get teary every time Matthew dies at the end of the movie ... I suppose now I have experiences that relate more to the situation of Anne being with Matthew when he dies. It dawns on me how ironic it is that I was with my grandmother when she passed, the very same who used to sit and drink tea with me in front of the fire while we watched Anne grow up ...
Oh emotions - this is what happens when I don't stick with my usual bedtime of ten o'clock ...
It's two am and I'm sitting in my room - sans Weston as he is still in Texas - watching Anne of Green Gables on VHS. That's right folks, I said VHS! HARK! Who still watches VHS tapes? Well I do, especially when I can pop something in that I've watched hundreds of times before, that brings me back to the cold, winter evenings by the fire, sitting on the braided rug covering the floor of my grandmother and aunt's living room while watching their VHS, taped-from-TV version of Anne of Green Gables (stopped and started again during its initial recording to ensure commercials would not interrupt later viewings).
It suddenly dawned on me that I am far from the girl I used to be sitting on that rug, drinking tea and pretending I was wearing a dress with puffed sleeves, and secretly wishing I knew a boy as dreamy as Gilbert Blythe. I've grown up, I've graduated college, moved away from home to a city, and in with a boy! I couldn't even imagined where my life would lead me, the people I would meet or who I would become.
It seems strange, sitting here and feeling the same way I always do when I watch Anne of Green Gables, but reconciling that I, as girl, as an almost-woman, am completely different than I was back then ...
Maybe I'm not so different as it turns out?
I suppose we keep those childish, naive feelings and thoughts, the hopes and dreams we have when we're little. They get pushed to the back of our heads as knew knowledge is thrust in, as we're told to remember things that are imperative to us going on year after year after year in school.
It's funny know that I think about it ... how I dreamed of knowing a boy like Gilbert Blythe, tall, dark and handsome ...
I have my own now. Even when he maybe hundreds of miles away.
You know, I still get teary every time Matthew dies at the end of the movie ... I suppose now I have experiences that relate more to the situation of Anne being with Matthew when he dies. It dawns on me how ironic it is that I was with my grandmother when she passed, the very same who used to sit and drink tea with me in front of the fire while we watched Anne grow up ...
Oh emotions - this is what happens when I don't stick with my usual bedtime of ten o'clock ...