It's nearly December once again. Where has the year gone? Time seems to slip through one's fingers the older one gets. That's because our brains simply don't retain as much of the mundane information of our day-to-day existence as we age. When we were young, we had all the time in the world, and we hadn't experienced anything yet, so every new memory was an adventure to be filed away in the seemingly limitless expanse of our minds for tomorrow's enjoyment. But as time passes, our brains don't have quite as much space as they used to, so they start discarding a whole lot of stuff that we experience each day, mostly the monotonous stuff; our routines.
You probably remember brushing your teeth this morning. But you don't remember spending five minutes standing in front of your mirror, scrubbing the inside of your face with a well-worn brush while staring through your own reflection. There's more of a snapshot of the scenario trapped in the recesses of your mind, and chances are, it's actually a snapshot from an earlier date, maybe days or even weeks ago. You don't normally dwell on these things unless somebody brings them to your attention.
You try to be present in the moment, but you're not going to remember every word of the conversation you just had with your mother over Thanksgiving, you just vaguely remember something about maybe an infected tooth, or maybe she was talking about your Aunt Ruth's infected toe, or it might have been something about chemtrails. You're just not sure, and it doesn't really matter, anyway. So your brain tossed all that shit out like day-old doughnuts.
That's why time seems to accelerate as we get older. We don't remember as much of this year as last year, so in our heads, it's gone by just a little faster. Because our brains are running out of room, and are prioritizing which things we should and shouldn't remember. This may sound like a curse, but it can also be a blessing.
The fresh agony of mourning, for example, that open wound that seems to encompass our entire being in the immediate aftermath of loss, fades with time. When once, the mere thought of this loss conjured into your mind would send you into a full-body crying fit that may last an hour or more, now a deeper existential dread settles over you like a suffocating blanket, drowning out any other emotions as you wallow in a downward spiral of depression and guilt, obsessing over what you may have done differently to prevent this tragedy from occurring, had you only the chance to change the outcome of cruel fortune's game.
The year is nearly gone, and only one final month remains. The darkest month of them all. And with it, a fresh agony that has become an unholy tradition on this blog.
I'm not sure exactly how this misbegotten little corner of the world-wide web somehow became a made-for-TV Christmas movie review blog. God knows that was never my intention. I used to want to write about other things. And I think I did, once upon a time. None of what I wrote was any good, but at least it wasn't an embittered review of whatever fresh nightmare Candace Cameron-Bure has decided to unleash upon an unsuspecting world in the form of a Hallmark Channel original holiday-themed movie.
So why did I do it for four years? Why did I dedicate the month of December, for four consecutive years, to reviewing these mind-numbing trifles? To find the Christmas Spirit? To reconnect with the feelings of joy this season once conjured within me during my youth? To come to terms with loss in some muddled, roundabout way? To be honest, I don't really remember. My memory has always been, at best, unreliable. And as I've gotten older, I've only forgotten more and more of what I fear I should still remember.
What was the point of all this? To entertain a few dozen complete strangers who stumble upon this blog every December through some ill-advised Google search and find themselves subjected to my tortured prose for a few brief minutes before clicking away to read something they might actually enjoy? I guess I really just do this for myself. I do enjoy watching these movies, or at least some of them. They don't have to be mere product designed to fill a programming void. The people making these movies can aspire to make them better than the sum of their parts. Granted, that doesn't often happen, but it does happen.
Sometimes this monolithic, holiday-themed made-for-television machine cranks out something like Kristin's Christmas Past, or Holiday Road Trip, or Angels & Ornaments, and when I remember watching movies like those, I'm thankful for beginning this bizarre journey, because otherwise I never would have even known they existed. These past four Decembers haven't been all bad, and even a lot of the bad has at least been memorable. Maybe I enjoy the idea of watching these movies more than the actual act of watching the movies themselves. That sounds more accurate. I want them all to be entertaining. I don't want to hate any of them. They just often seem to have a hard time living up to my lofty expectations of mediocrity.
Over the past few days, as I've finished putting up decorations and trimming the tree, I've gone back and forth many times on whether or not I should come back to do this for another year. Do I have the stamina or even the desire to do this for five years in a row? What else could I possibly have to say about these harmless pre-packaged portions of holiday entertainment? I have no idea, but I guess we're all going to find out.
25 days. 25 movies. 25 reviews. The nightmare begins again tomorrow, December 1st, with a movie I'm going to watch at random in the morning, then review in the afternoon. Probably something on Hallmark Channel, or its sister network, Hallmark Movies & Mysteries. But I'll sneak in something from Lifetime or maybe ION TV from time to time, just to keep things fresh. And what about the "Twelve Tropes Of Christmas", the personal scorecard I added last year to mix things up a bit? I'm keeping that, too, with a few changes. Here's my revised list of tropes:
Mommy's Dead - it's a classic, one that unfortunately never goes out of style.
Very Merry Tragedy - this one's a bit more specific, in that it applies only to a death in the life of one of our protagonists that occurred during the holiday season. It probably won't pop up all that often, but we might all be surprised.
Christmas Magic - I've altered this trope somewhat to include the old Calling All Angels trope, just folding all non-Santa-related magic into one streamlined category.
Secret Santa - these movies have a nagging habit of tossing Kris Kringle into the mix all the time, and I don't see that stopping any time soon.
I Hate You! Kiss Me! - this trope is in the very foundation of the Hallmark Channel original movie bible. I'm not kidding. It probably really is.
Scrooged! - there's always some curmudgeon out there who needs to re-learn the true meaning of Christmas.
#HallmarkSoWhite - if one of these movies doesn't include a person of color in a prominent role, they get slammed with this unkind hashtag. I must clarify that in order to avoid this label, the person of color must have a name, more than two lines in the movie, and their entire life mustn't revolve around the lily white protagonists.
Assistant Chef Jen - you don't have to look far to find an irredeemable piece of shit in this landscape of largely inoffensive treacle.
Little White Lies - it's going to pop up from time to time. There's just no avoiding it.
Small Town Salvation - all you have to do is get out of the big city and fall in love with some hunky mechanic who lives in the sticks and you'll never be unhappy again!
Third Act Shenanigans - sometimes the ridiculous circumstances a narrative creates to provide a little extra romantic drama between our protagonists during the film's third act is just a little too much to bear.
Christmas In July - almost none of these movies are actually filmed during the winter months, and from time to time, you just can't help but notice that.
So join me tomorrow when we begin the torment all over again with... whatever I end up watching after I wake up screaming when I realize that I'm going to be doing this for the next twenty-five days.
YOUR TIME IS RUNNING OUT!
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