Some days like this
Posted on | July 17, 2007 |
Yesterday was brilliant, and then today I woke up inexplicably sad.
Yesterday I made French Onion soup. Farmer’s market fresh onions, bakery baguette, outrageously priced Gruyere cheese, and it was perfect. Last night we went to see Paris , Je’ Te Aime, and to pick up some bowls at clay studio, newly fired. They turned out beautifully. Pale sky blue, nesting together, still carrying a whisper of warmth from the kiln.
The film was quirky with 18 different directors/stories. I loved all the ways it portrayed love: the raw, sharp shards of love that come with the grief of loosing a child; the unexpected fragility of ending up alone, or together; the myriad ways love is tangled in translation: across faith. DH hated it, because he said it depressed him: too close to life, I guess. He wanted something cheerier, some handful of stories that knit themselves together, ending with old folks rocking on some sunny porch together, at the end of a life well lived.
But to me, love IS achingly fragile and the likelihood of surviving a lifetime with it intact, improbable. All the more exquisite because this is so. Like finding unbroken sand dollars at the sea shore. I’m not much of a critic though; a sucker for anything that portrays a faraway place and snapshots of the human condition. I like films to be arty, poignant There were a handful of stories I didn’t like, but more that I did. Watching the film felt like reading a volume of short stories (which I’m doing, by the way. Alice Munro’s RUNAWAY.)
But today, despite the perfect sunny skies, I feel like crying. Hormonal maybe, or maybe just off after a late night, sleeping against Bean, who went to sleep in our bed last night after telling the babysitter he missed us. Maybe I need to go out and soak up sun. Do you ever wake up this way? Simply off, with no real reason you can put your finger on?
Comments
16 Responses to “Some days like this”
Leave a Reply
July 17th, 2007 @ 11:09 am
yes
and the looks I get from those I live with are hard to return
there are days when interaction with anyone leaves me feeling broken
but inevitably something breaks through, either within me or from the outside in, that rights the balance
July 17th, 2007 @ 11:59 am
yes, somedays are like that.
I also loved Paris Je t’aime- lots of emotion tied in those stories, but at the same time it was well balanced. I adore any movie that forces feelings out of me in unexpected ways. Glad you got to see it.
July 17th, 2007 @ 12:20 pm
for me the worst part of those days is the pressure i feel (internal and external) to credential the feeling. sometimes i can’t begin to know where it comes from, but the pressure for narrative is overwhelming.
July 17th, 2007 @ 12:45 pm
Oh, just wait until you get older. I’m in my mid 40’s and it comes rushing at you at full speed. On days like this, you need to have a supportive partner to take the kids and run! Give me a day and then I’m back to my old self!
July 17th, 2007 @ 1:12 pm
Absolutely. Even moreso now, since my dad passed four and a half years ago. Or maybe since I got married — husband tends to pull a lot of emotions out of me at unexpected moments.
As far as films, have you ever seen Amelie? It’s a lighter movie with brilliant cinematography, like candy for the eyes. A very cute story too!
July 17th, 2007 @ 1:36 pm
Yes. I wonder how much is hormonal and how much is just needed from my body and mind … like a pressure-release valve. We are bombarded by sad images, sounds, and stories; happy experiences, hugs, and laughter. Sometimes it is all just subconciously overwhelming, the good and the bad, and … ahhh … we just need a cry.
July 17th, 2007 @ 1:56 pm
oh absolutely. I had a major eeyore day 2 days ago, with my own personal raincloud and everything.
July 17th, 2007 @ 2:37 pm
there are days like this for me… and sometimes I try to rub against it and force it into a shape… which never works… I do better when I let the funk or off-ness rise to the surface then something like the sunset or a warm word can skim it away eventually - not on my schedule, but when it is ready. sending you warm wishes and many thanks for sharing your off moments in such a beautiful and heartfelt way.
jen
July 17th, 2007 @ 3:36 pm
Yes. Absolutely. I hope you find your balance soon. Your soup sounds TO DIE FOR.
July 17th, 2007 @ 4:03 pm
we must be on the same cycle, yesterday:fabulous Today:tragic
I’m just hanging on with hope for tomorrow.
July 17th, 2007 @ 4:44 pm
i always have those days. inexplicable hormones. but also, sometimes i can’t shake the feeling i get from a movie. especially the arty ones,with their loneliness, too close to lifeness. it sticks with you and puts on new lenses through which you see your life in a different fit.
July 17th, 2007 @ 6:43 pm
I totally agree with Jane. Wait ’til you’re in your 40’s… there are days that you’ll be convinced you’re certifiably insane your mood swings will be so intense.
It’s taken me a long time to simply accept these days as part of the process, and use them as touchpoints for remembering that I need (and deserve!) some nurturing too. Mostly it’s something as small as giving myself the permission ride the waves of whatever it is I am feeling. Sometimes it’s something more… a warm bubble bath with my favorite book and a eucalyptus scented candle… taking the afternoon to myself and working in my garden… talking a long walk with my 3 dogs in the forest preserve… just enough to get me centerd again.
Be gentle with yourself… treat yourself as you would a dear friend… that, I think, is the secret.
July 17th, 2007 @ 8:46 pm
You know that I do.
But you (like me) also know that it gets better. Ebb and flow. Rise and fall. It’s just part of life.
But yeah, totally feel ya. BIG.
July 18th, 2007 @ 9:26 am
I’m reading short stories now too, Haruki Murakami’s Blind Willow Sleeping Woman
July 18th, 2007 @ 1:42 pm
Yes. I’ve had plenty of those unexplainable off days and they fade quickly, adding a sweet balance to the days when I feel giddily happy for no apparent reason. It’s all a blessing — you show us that here every time you post.
July 19th, 2007 @ 2:16 am
If he saw it as sad then he missed the entire point of the collection which was to portray Paris in all her forms, not love, and, in particular, in the way we see her.
I particularly got a kick out of the vignette with Nick Nolte, completely misconstruing the relationship between him and the girl until I saw the pram. Disheveled Sugar Daddy to doting grandfather in an instant – ah, that’s Paris!