I did it…“it” meaning I watched the first episode of the new NetFlix Full House revamp known as Fuller House.
I was curious what it would be like, after all this time (more than twenty years). Would it be an exact replica or would it be its own show? Would it be as sappy as I remember the original being?
I say this, even though the original was one I watched and recently re-watched online. I like sappy and corny apparently. Maybe I’m not quite as cool as I thought.
It’s wild to me how long ago that was and that now the kids on that show play the main characters in this update, the adults that is. Guess that means I’m an adult too.
Yikes! When exactly did that happen anyway?
So, is it possible to re-do something the right way?
Well, I will answer that once I’m done “binge watching” all episodes available, but I thought it was an interesting way to view the years that pass us by, that seem to go by with increasing speed as I age.
This week, in Canada, people went to work and to school in pink for awareness on the painful subject of bullying. I read the above article around that same day and it touched me on several levels.
Anytime I’m asked about my experience with this, I refer to the post I wrote for
as I explain what it was like for me, as a visually impaired student who attended her neighbourhood school.
As I read this, I thought about the way we see and experience the world when we’re children and how that is shaping our futures, but that it does not have to totally define them.
So many times, we hear that if a poor and tormented child, bullied in high school, if they just get through it, it will be but a memory in later life. It’s not going to always be like that. This is easy to say, when you’re not living it, but it is, most times, true.
The line that most stuck out for me as I read Molly’s story was:
“No one would ever marry a blind girl, because it’s like buying something that’s already broken.”
A boy told her that – obviously, likely not future boyfriend/husband material, but the tears came when I read it anyway.
This obviously touched a nerve for me, along with many more bits from this particular article, but it all circles back to the question of time and timing.
Chantal Kreviazuk’s lyrics in this song have hit a nerve for me, for a long long time. For many years my life was darkness and I’m not talking about the kind blindness can bring. I mean I was weighed down with physical pain and hopelessness.
Well, now the pain is managed, most days, and some things have become clearer. Still a work-in-progress though, like everyone.
I try to remember what I thought, going back to childhood, when I only saw a small siting of what life could or would be like. I can’t really remember if I thought anything for sure, but I did have a flashback while playing with the toy crib I had for my dolls, as a little girl, with the little girl that is now my five-year-old niece.
I thought that by this time in life I’d have a family of my own, a university education, and a job. I didn’t take into account the years of daily physical roadblocks, adding to the already difficult road I’ve walked, living with disability.
I don’t have the education I’d like, one which may have helped me get a career of some kind. It took me my twenties to even figure out what I was good at. I messed up a lot and made some lousy decisions during those years, all with a relentless daily pain that would not dissipate.
I did think I’d have a family of my own, one as great as mine that I already have. I see what my brother and sister have, trials and tribulations and all, and I still want to find it for myself. That’s why lines like the one above, from that other visually impaired girl’s own story, that’s why they hit me hard. I have those same doubts and always have. Why would anyone, any guy want me for a life partner?
I know the sorts of goals I have now, mostly in writing, travel, and public awareness of equality, but this week’s FTSF question isn’t about what our lives are like, in the present.
As a kid I didn’t know how important writing would become to me. I hadn’t yet figured that out. I did know, as hard as I tried to let it be just one other quirk of mine, that I was “different” and would always have to work a little harder to be seen and heard.
I guess I thought I’d still see what I saw back then and I didn’t take into account the things I know now that, back then, there’s no way I could have known.
The other night, out at dinner, I overheard a group of men at a table nearby. I couldn’t help but overhear their discussion, as it moved so gracefully from their favourite movies to talk of mortgage payments.
Then it hit me. These men were likely around my age, thirties sometime anyway. This is it. This is adulthood and, most days, I hardly feel like I am up to the challenge.
Then, something comes up to remind me and I panic that I am doing it all wrong. I know hardly any of us can honestly say they are exactly where they thought they would be, if you’d asked them when they were younger. I am not alone, but I feel alone, in this adulthood thing, a lot of the time.
This is it and I still have hope that things will change. I have big plans and dreams. I know focusing on myself is the key right now, which can be lonely sometimes, but that I hope will pay off. The future isn’t quite so dark and dreary as it once may have been, but the challenge is greater, in many ways. Let’s just hope I’m up to the task because time doesn’t stand still and wait for you to catch up.
for all that comes along with this week’s highly thought provoking sentence starter.
Now my head hurts, likely from thinking about this continuation of the question of high school yearbooks everywhere, but also because I get headaches anyway. I don’t have all the energy necessary to keep up with time, so I think I will just walk fast, for a little while, and see where that gets me. Ask me again in about ten years.
Back to watching more “Fuller House” episodes for a while. Boy, did Danny’s voice get higher or what. (Review on the show’s update to come.)