First confession: I love Hallmark Christmas movies. I love when December rolls around because (well, among lots of other reasons!) there is always a cheezy Christmas movie on the Hallmark Channel. Come January, we’ll be left with the Waltons. But the month of December, cheezy Christmas movies abound.
They usually feature
1) an actor or actress who found their five minutes of “fame” in something else, like a sitcom the 90s, and then are never heard from again – until now
2) an actor or actress who is currently on a sitcom currently, as a minor or reoccurring character, but would like to use this Hallmark masterpiece to catapult themselves into greater fame (or at least pay the bills)
3) someone like Florence Henderson who must just be bored and wants to reenter our lives
As for the plots, they usually involve the main character:
1) dating a loser
2) being a workaholic
3) getting fired
4) not believing in Santa Clause/not appreciating Christmas
5) some combination of the above
I know that watching too many of these movies is dangerous, for the same reason watching large amounts of rom-coms is dangerous. You begin to wonder why you’re life isn’t like a movie.
I don’t fit any of those characteristics above and all the problems in my life (not that there are many) are certainly not going to be solved in two hours. (or 1 hour and 40 minutes, counting commercial time)
The chances of the new guy at work one minute making me so angry I could spit and then the next minute falling madly in love with me are pretty nil. (Number one, the majority of the people at my workplace are female.) The chances of some guy running (literally running) into me at the grocery store, the bank, or while shopping for a Christmas tree, and then somehow running (probably literally, again) into me somewhere else … also nil. I also probably won’t have to work part-time as an elf anytime soon, thus also shooting down the chances of me meeting Mr Right while dressed in a little green dress and a pointed hat. (I know at least three movies that included this subplot.)
My life is not a Hallmark movie.
Case in point: I got a vacuum cleaner for my birthday. Not a diamond ring.
I think that says it all, ladies and gentlemen. (or “gentleman”… I don’t think I have many male readers.)
When I opened my birthday present (several days early), I freaked out with happiness. It wasn’t any old vacuum cleaner. It’s the nicest vacuum cleaner I could ever hope to own. I vacuumed my apartment and felt like laying down on the carpet immediately afterwards. No longer was dirt just pushed around. No longer was there a vague smell like an explosion was imminent. No longer was I breaking a sweat pushing something the size of a small army tank.
As I vacuumed, my heart full of gratitude, I reflected on the reality of my life – what it is and what it isn’t (I know, I’m a profound vacuumer), And you know what I realized?
My life isn’t a Hallmark movie.
And I’m glad.
That’s not to say I approach the beginning of the end of my 20s with complete contentment. But I am extremely grateful. Even though there are many days when I wish my story was written a little differently, wonder why certain reoccurring subplots can’t disappear, or pray for the addition of a new cast member (preferably a 30 year-old single male, law degree and three-piece-suit negotiable), I know the adventure I am on has a divine Director. I just pray I’m open and obedient to whatever comes next.
A big thanks to all my supporting cast. I couldn’t have done this without you.
May the next 28 be as good as the last.