Bunnyhugs and movies

I haven’t seen V for Vendetta. It looks like a good movie, actually, and I made some offhand comment to that effect last week at lunch.

“Do you want to come over and watch it?” A colleague asked, and I blinked at him, a bit surprised. He smiled at me, then glanced around the table. “Anybody? I don’t have anything going on this weekend.”

Several people agreed, and I said I’d see. I had many tasks I wanted to accomplish over these past couple days, and I wasn’t really sure I could go.

I mentioned – a long time ago – that I don’t watch upsetting movies any more than I read real books. I become deeply emotionally involved and find myself profoundly affected by the entertainment I choose. I found myself weighing the refusal of a nice invitation to hang out with people from work against the possibility of being dramatic and emotional in front of said people. Would I have nightmares afterward? I mean, it does look like a good movie, but I had no plans to actually see it.

I asked several people – all of whom are aware of my weird movie criteria – about it, and nobody had seen it. There was a unanimous chorus of “doesn’t seem like your type of movie” though. So I found myself a bit offended – wouldn’t a certain type of woman – smart, a bit sophisticated, interesting, sexy – watch this movie? I’d like to be smart, sophisticated, interesting and sexy! I could watch the movie. Plus, none of these people had even seen it – I might really enjoy it! But I hesitated to call and confirm that I’d attend this gathering.

Then I remembered a friend who watches movies. He would almost certainly have seen it, and might have a more informed opinion on my watching it. I was already leaning against it – I know myself pretty well – so I sent a quick note. His response? A couple sentences about the movie as he considered it, then a “I’d say not.”

I sighed. Then called to let my colleague know I wasn’t going to make it. “I actually don’t watch movies all that often.” I explained. “And I’d planned to spend some time with family this weekend.” So after thanking him for the invitation and wishing him a pleasant evening with friends, I said good-bye, and felt fine about my decision.

When I was small, we called a certain type of blanket a bunnyhug. It was sort of a modified sleeping bag – with snaps instead of zippers. But there were 2 layers of fabric with some stuffing in between. Bunnyhugs were sturdy, soft and cozy.

I’m usually a bit too warm. It’s right around 70° in my house right now. This is hardly environmentally or economically responsible, but I’m absolutely miserable otherwise. A friend was apologizing the other day because her parents’ pool – which I shall visit in a few weeks – is often shaded and quite cool regardless of the outside temperature.

“Really?” I breathed, delighted. And she laughed.

“I forgot! You love the cold! Yes, this is the perfect pool for you.”

I loved bunnyhugs – we all did – but they were a bit stifling sometimes. I’d find myself poking out my feet. Then scrunching the blanket down off my shoulders. Pushing it off to one side and cuddling into it rather than under it – it was just too hot under all that material!

Cousin lives about an hour away, so the drive is long enough to be inconvenient. So though I adore her and her family, I don’t often make my way over to their comfortable house. I also don’t make a habit of turning down 2 invitations in a single day though, so I grabbed a bottle of water, shrugged over my outfit - I looked fine, and threw some treats for Chienne as I headed out the door.

Several hours later, I smiled as I drove home. I was happy – safe, warm and cozy. I talked to the baby and watched her respond. It’s so completely cool when little ones start to understand what I say! After knowing them for a year or so, talking with little expectation of response, one day I’m able to visit – with my niece and my little cousin – and watch them look toward the toy I mention, or show me her shoes as her mom requested. It’s amazing.

I ate pizza they ordered and asked after Cousin’s health. Said a quick prayer that she’d stay stable because the alternative is tremendously more upsetting than any movie could be. We watched Dodgeball – I hadn’t seen it either – after the baby went to sleep and we giggled at the movie and each other. Stopped to get more soda or shift positions on the comfortable furniture in the cool living room. It was perfect – fun and easy. They know and love me, and it’s not just because we’re related. I decided that at some point we’d become friends in addition to cousins. The thought that such a woman – one who had always impressed me, made me laugh, held my hand when someone hurt my feelings in junior high – stared into my eyes and promised me I’d find better friends someday – now enjoyed spending time with me? It matters.

I drove home, flipping through songs on my iPod, drifting through thoughts just as easily, and thought of bunnyhugs. They represented evenings much like the one I’d just spent. Cuddly comfort and effortless safety. When I don’t think about how loudly I laugh or if I don’t really understand a joke. I realized I used to take the bunnyhugs because everyone else did – my family tended to be colder than I typically feel. So I ended up with a blanket I didn’t really want so I could be like them.

It’d be nice if I’d grow up already, because I thought of V for Vendetta and realized I wanted to be able to watch it. It would mean I fit in better. Would be a certain type of person that I think more people would appreciate.

The truth is that the bunnyhug had nothing to do with being safe and secure with my family. They didn’t care if I used one or not. Grandma was cold, so she wondered if I was chilly. Likewise, when I mentioned the movie at lunch, someone assumed I’d actually want to watch it. I don’t think it was important to anyone but me that I decided I didn’t want to deal with it. It doesn’t represent my intellectual sophistication, or lack thereof.

I know who I am. There are characteristics I’d like to change. I’m overly impatient, likely too sensitive. But I’m very sweet. When I notice people, I try to see them and appreciate all that’s wonderful about them. It’s really easy to make me laugh. I’m quite efficient. I love my family a lot – would do anything in the world for them.

They see me, I realized, arriving home, greeting Chienne and taking out my contacts. Bunnyhug or no, Vendetta or Dodgeball. Members of my family think I’m quite wonderful, and I bask in that knowledge. Some of you offer that same reassurance. When I’m honest – sometimes embarrassingly so – when I get overly cute or miserably sad – it’s OK. There are people who find it endearing or are at least willing to tolerate the garbage to get back to the good stuff.

The trick, I think, is letting myself be me. Not trying to force changes that aren’t important. I wouldn’t like certain movies. I know it, people who know me confirm it. Why be upset about that? Likewise, I’m not very sophisticated. I might be able to pull it off, but why? I’m good with being casual. In being confident with my qualities, preferences and decisions, it’s obviously much easier to let people know me.

It’s a process, I think. Personally and professionally. To risk it – be honest about who I am – and see what happens. I don’t know that I’m quite there yet, but I do believe I’m getting closer.