Sappy Love

I am a romantic. There, I've said it (again).

I have been involved in a few conversations lately about movies and how Hollywood so often uses a certain formula to guarantee a big hit. The formula might go something like this: boy + girl + happily ever after = successful movie! And for me, that formula works. Sometimes I try to branch out and watch something that deviates from the formula. Sometimes, I am glad when I do. But I always come back to the "happily ever after."

Brett is not a romantic, and our tastes vary greatly when it comes to what we like to watch. We manage to find things to watch together, but only because there is just enough romantic drama thrown in to keep me interested. Take that away, and you can kiss our couch dates good-bye.

It's the same with books. I always reach for those books whose endings I can guarantee will make me happy. However, I often feel like I need to challenge myself by reading a book with a different formula. More often than not, I appreciate that the book actually made me think.

I recently read a book called, The History of Love, which I picked up from the used book store knowing nothing about it. With a title like that, I expected a "happily ever after" ending. However, this book did not follow the "boy meets girl" formula that I am so loyal to. Quite the contrary. The book was written in a completely different style--somewhat disjointed, in fact. In the end, I felt like I could use a second reading of the book to pick up everything that I missed. Rather than being about "happily ever after" this book was about dealing with the loss of love, including the loss of family and friends. I don't know that I would highly recommend it to everyone, but I was glad that I read it. It had me thinking for a few days after I read it, and that's always a good thing.

With music I have different requirements. I want a song that is highly "sing-able" as well as full of emotion. It doesn't matter so much whether the the song is about love lost or gained. In fact, some of my favorite songs are rather melancholy. I enjoy singing while I play the piano, and sappy love songs are usually a lot easier to play than something upbeat (i.e. fast). I have really enjoyed playing and singing Frank Sinatra's "This Love of Mine", "A Certain Smile" from one of my oldies music books, "Where is Love" from Oliver, and "I'm Not That Girl" from Wicked (this week's favorite). Sappy, sappy, sappy--and yet, I love them.

I don't know why this feels like a confession. I would like to be part of the intellectual group that appreciates "good" movies, books and music. But the truth is--I don't. Not really. So, does this make me less intellectual? Perhaps.

I'm trying to be okay with that.