. On The P.S. .

I watched P.S. I Love You on a plane heading home from Australia. It was like two in the morning or something and I had already watched two movies. Starting at the opening scene - a couple fighting, and her throwing shoes -- I cried. And the tears didn't abate. The movie swept through scene after scene and by the end I was sobbing. Ugly cry. Right into my blanket, desperately trying to not wake up my mom to my left or the young girl on my right. 

Like what is it about this movie? 

And sweet-mother-of-baby-Jesus, why did I rent it again tonight? 

Holy shit (sorry mom) - wild, ugly cry. From beginning to the very bitter end. It was the exact same. The freaking exact same. I sat on my couch and I couldn't press stop. After so much snot, you'd think that maybe a girl would ... I don't know ... stop the movie? It was ridiculous. 

It kind of made me think (after I dried my tears with a kitchen towel and mentally shook off the devastating cloud the movie hangs over you) ... sometimes, we repeat situations in the hopes that maybe - just maybe - things will turn out different. That the result won't be the same.

We won't be touched quite as hard. 
The fire won't be as hot.
Our hearts won't break into quite so many pieces.
Or maybe even that the stars will be just a little brighter. 

Sometimes, without us even really realizing it, or how we've done it ... we wind up exactly in the same position that we have already lived. P.S. I Love You is a simple example, and I don't really mean to make it so light. BFF Suzy and I often discuss this whole idea of living the same thing over and over and over again - maybe it's supposed to happen until you get it right? 

This afternoon, storms were rolling in. The sky darkened and I stood outside, picking up sticks and twigs from my front yard - all fallen from the storms that came the night previous. I filled my trash can full of crap from my tree. The wind blew, throwing my hair into my face and dirt into my shins. And now? I look out into my front yard and it's full of twigs and branches again. I'll spend an hour outside tomorrow cleaning... again ... until I get the tree pruned or chopped the hell down. I sat watching the branches sway and shed and basically laugh at me ... and I just shook my head. 

Do you ever find yourself tired of it? The same? The same thing? Over and over? I told Mary Mary one day that it's like being grated against something. Rubbed raw. 

That is, until you figure it out.

Here's to that. 

​xoxo, B. 

PS - Don't be the kid that rents P.S. I Love You. Nothing good can come from it, you guys. Nada. I love you - a whole bunch more than this movie.