The procedure in question involves erasing certain painful memories, in this case, a subdued Jim Carrey’s memories of his tumultuous relationship with a feisty Kate Winslet. Not just the bad parts – everything. Forgetting the good parts, the quiet parts, the sexy parts (who’d want to forget sex with Kate Winslet?), or that she even existed. It’s a big ask.
We’ve all had that one relationship that seared its way into the very fabric of our being, so that when it ended (badly, as it must) you can’t wash the feel or smell or memory of your person, no matter how many bars of Lux you go through. (Or, if you’re one of the hypothetical lucky bastards out there not reading my blog, you married her. And I hate you for it.)
Well I’ve been there (sorta, just without the feel or smell part), and while it seemed an interesting idea at the time, I was just too ridiculously fond of this person to want to erase her entire existence. But that was 3 years ago, and I still feel as strongly or more so, and the desperation’s making me see the merit in such a solution – for everyone. My cloying neediness has made me a liability, and I worry about my ability to function when around her as what she sees me as: one of her best friends. This closeness – yet so distant from where we were, where I think we could have and maybe even should have been – makes it all the more difficult (it doesn’t help that she fleeting reminds me of Mrs. Winslet).
So after years of hoping and seeing signs and developments that simply weren’t there (hey, I’m not exactly a seasoned pro) driving myself batshit crazy in vain, the straw that broke the camel’s back arrived on July 8th 2008 and culminated with my much-maligned and talked about End-Of-Life-Decision (as cracked.com would put it). After which I did my darnedest to sever all ties with her – for all of 1month. And it was a good month – I cared about nothing, was crass and carefree, the stress and depression lifted somewhat.
But my resolve broke, and we reconnected, albeit now on separate coasts, and I’m back at square one. I awoke late yesterday morning persisted by dreams convincing me that there actually could be a future for us, which buoyed me considerably.
Until I got a surprise phone call from her in the early hours of this morning telling me she’d shelved her long-held dreams to run off to Scotland because she’s found love here, and it seems he could (finally finally finally) be the real thing. Which is superb – as my best friend, I’m beyond delighted for her. But there’s where the schizophrenia comes in, as a part of me is dying a wickedly gruesome and embarrassing death, complete with petulant mewls and involuntary bowel movements. When is enough enough? Has fate not shown me enough times the writing on the wall to turn me into a well-versed scholar? And how can this whiny pining shit coexist with the pillar that’s supposed to be her best friend?
It would be tough – she’s been a critical component of my life for the last 7years, and if nothing else I value her friendship extremely. But, barring a precise lobotomy that would rid me of my pestersome ‘feelings’ for her, would I take the Eternal Sunshine treatment to be rid of it all – and her of me – once and for all? I’m leaning heavily towards a ‘yes’, more so than ever before, because it would be a welcome release (but then who’ll be my muse??) and she won’t have to worry about me going batshit and hurting or embarrassing her again with my ‘feelings’. It’s almost certainly a ‘yes’, but to be responsible, I’d really have to get back to you on it.
Or not, since it’s just a fucking movie. Fuck you very much Messrs. Kaufman and Gondry.
Journals Of A Journeyed Film Journalist 