Some movies we saw. A breakfast date I'll never have.

This week, Dan and I went to the movies twice.  On Sunday, we saw Looper. On Tuesday, we saw Intouchables.

Looper is a dark story about the future. The Intouchables is based on a true story  and so warm and fuzzy you just want to roll around in it. 

Looper made me wonder what I would say if I sat down with my younger self over breakfast, just like the main character, Joe, sits down with himself at a diner over steak and eggs.  Older Joe tries to explain to young Joe what will matter to him in the end. He tries to warn him about the mistakes he’ll make, and the dangers that are yet to come. But young Joe doesn’t want to hear it. He wants to knock old Joe off because that’s what he’s supposed to do according to his contract. He cares about himself, now. "This is my life now," says young Joe. "You had yours already."

young Joe, old Joe

Sometimes, I go into a headspin about the choices I made. How I blew all my money on travel. How I didn't take the time to build a career in the traditional way. In my twenties, I prided myself on these things. Would I tell her not to do what she did?

young Sky

Of course I wouldn't. Those travels still define me. And even if I did ask her to just change a few things, she wouldn't listen. She would be just like young Joe, full of pride and hope and naiveté. That’s ok. Sure, she made a few things more difficult for 31-year-old me, but things are pretty good, and I love her for who she is—innocent and wide-eyed and drunk on idealism.

Isn't that how we become the people we are? By screwing up? By doing irrational but wonderful things? By offering ourselves up to the world? By fucking up a little and succeeding a little and then doing it all over again? 

old Sky

 It gave me this weird idea to start a blog of my adventures in South America (seven years ago now,) drawing from journals and old emails and blogging about it as if it were happening now. Day by day.

What would I do? Could I let young Sky just be who she is/was, or would I be tempted to re-write her? Would I love her, hate her, envy her, be embarrassed by her?  How strange it would be to write as 24-year-old me in the morning, and spend the rest of the day as a 31-year-old. Maybe she could even teach me a thing or two.

I wonder: would I—even though I know what happens—be surprised by going back there?

Would you if you went back?

But if you’re not in the mood for time travel, The Intouchables is perfect. Even the trailer will make your day.