It’s funny how I really love to shop. Except when i really have to. I am not one of those organized girls who shops for Christmas all year long, unless I go on a trip and tuck away a little something special for someone in my bag. I envy and admire those people who have it all done by June. Me? I seem to prefer waiting until December to jam my whole gift list into 20 days. I am so not like this. I am generally on time for everything, preparing well in advance so as to be ready for said event. But playing Santa to the masses, and becoming relied upon to give a really thoughtful gift, well, I could use some fucking elves, is the thing. The stress is enough to ruin the good feeling I get from the movie “Love Actually”, which has actually become my favorite holiday film, surpassing “A Wonderful Life”. If you haven’t seen it, I beg of you to make yourself a big bowl of popcorn, put on your best cozy pj’s and put that thing on your tv, computer, phone, or whatever other new technology I’m not aware of that people are watching movies on these days. Really. Tonight.
The movies opens with Hugh Grant saying, in his sweet, but sexy British lilt, “Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion’s starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often, it’s not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it’s always there – fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge – they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I’ve got a sneaky feeling you’ll find that love actually is all around.”
That’s a nice piece of writing. A really nice piece. And an even better sentiment. And when Hugh says it, it’s even nicer. Anyway, I am going to watch that movie and remember that love is all around, which is more important than making yourself Jack Nicholson in “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” in order to get the perfect gift. The perfect gift is love. Although, admittedly, it is hard to wrap.