Empty Sky

On any given night, when there's not much on television, L will start flipping channels and eventually land on something that I don't want to watch.  And it's not necessarily something I don't like, just something I don't want to see again, at least right at that moment.

"The West Wing".  Makes me think too much.  {And gets my blood boiling consider our current political environment.}

"Love Actually".  Wrecks me emotionally, it's just so friggin' romantic.

Heck, I didn't watch "E.T." again for like 20 years because the ending gets me every time.  Saying goodbye is tough.

Don't get me wrong.  I don't mind thinking.  And the power of emotion - be it joy or pain - is part of what I love about movies and TV, and probably why I love to write.  But when I go to the movies or watch a show for the first time, I am making a conscious decision of surrendering my heart and my brain to the creative talent, knowing full well - and secretly hoping, I would think - that the words and pictures will move me in some way.

When flipping channels and stumbling across something like this, I am not always ready for that surrender.  It's a jarring interaction that shocks me out of whatever happy place I'm in and it's not pleasant for me.  It's like picking at an open wound.

I guess L and I differ on what we love about the concept of "found television".  I can watch "Star Wars" and "Jurassic Park" and "Die Hard" and "The Dark Knight" over and over again.  They trigger a different part of my psyche. {In fact, L has a list of movies that I constantly rewatch that she never wants to see again!}

L, on the other hand, will plow through marathons of "The West Wing" and ritualistically watches "Love Actually" every Christmas.  I love them too.  But that open wound...

Tomorrow is the 10th anniversary of 9/11.  It's impossible to get away from.  TV and newspaper coverage has been non-stop with week-long pieces in the local paper and documentaries galore dotting the broadcast landscape.  And I get it.  It's a milestone anniversary.  Depending on who you are, it could be cathartic or therapeutic or even a tribute to the lost and the heroes and even the country we were (for awhile anyway) in the aftermath.  There is much we can learn about the world and ourselves in looking back.  And there is value in keeping all that fresh in our collective databanks as we try to move forward.

But I don't want to see it again.  It's too much.  I haven't forgotten.  The images are still seared into my memory.  And I think about it every year on 9/11, not just during milestone years.  And every time we go to New York and see that empty sky where the towers used to be, I think of it again.  For those directly impacted, I'm sure they think about it EVERY DAY, not just on the anniversary.  It must be inescapable for them, especially this year.

Regarding 9/11, there are a myriad of stories of heartbreaking sadness, and heroism with no bounds, and triumph over tragedy.  And they are all stories worth telling and hearing.  Just not all at once.  Not for me.  So when I'm on the couch tomorrow flipping channels and I come across another 9/11-themed show, I will keep flipping until I find something mindless to watch.  Like football.