"i love you!" "that's wonderful! now go love some more"

It's not uncommon that I haven't seen whatever movie you're going to be shocked I haven't seen. This past year marked my initial viewing of The Goonies and A Christmas Story, for example.

With that in mind, I saw Harold and Maude for the first time last night.

... And I loved it.

I'll spare you the same old tired reviews. Instead, I'll tell you what this movie did.

This movie made me get out my violin (which I've been avoiding because it reminds me of bad past relationships) and play. And remember that I can play, and enjoy playing. That hitting the wrong note is okay. That my fingers are nimble. That swaying back and forth to keep rhythm is fine. That having calluses on my fingertips is satisfying...

This movie made me dream about playing tennis. I remembered how it feels to bend my knees, with wrists held loosely in preparation... To spring load, and throw my weight behind a return-of-serve backhand down the line. I remembered the rush from a shot well placed... A plan successfully executed...

Granted, this movie probably couldn't have been watched and as well received at just any time. It's like the movie found its way to me serendipitously... Which is sort of true. I didn't request it. Netflix accidentally sent it to the apartment--- a movie on my long-since held account's queue. Did I travel forward in time and put Harold and Maude at the top, knowing that it would arrive right when I needed to see it?

Ok, probably not. I don't really care. All I know is that I have an hour of court time scheduled tonight to play tennis (I've been avoiding my racquet because I last used it when I tore my hamstring). And that maybe I don't have to hate myself all the time for liking what I like. And that if any of those things end up hurting, that's ok, too.

I can handle it.