It sort of sneaked up on me and hit without warning. The steady diet of brain candy has officially turned my few remaining brain cells to carb-induced mush.
It started innocently enough with not wanting to sit through the television reruns populating evening watching options, so I turned to the sugary, saccharin holiday movies. You know the genre — a lonely person here, an unlikely match there and by the end of the two hours (one and a half fast-forwarding through the ads), the couple are together in a sugar-coated match made in a Christmas heaven.
Brain Candy Holiday Movies. You know the ones…those with the predictable plot line, sugary sweet save for a few requisite tears at the conclusion. I can walk away for 15 minutes, an hour, come back and pick up the story by the time I have a sip or two of spiced cider. Double shot of sweet.
I am just beginning to realize the Hallmark movie genre is extremely addictive. I started taping the entire lot and cannot quite delete them just yet — not that I will ever watch them more than once. But the taped library is just like the cookies in the freezer — comfort food in case blood sugars begin to drop. Only this time it’s comfort food for the brain.
It’s not even mid-December — not even two weeks into the candy-caned season, which, come to think of it, evidently officially kicked off sometime before Halloween — and already I have to have my evening fix. So far, it’s just one movie an evening, but it worries me that soon I’ll need two schmaltzy movies to satisfy the brain candy cravings.
Even the brightly decorated flippen’ Christmas tree, Christmas Village and holiday lights aren’t satisfying the brain candy cravings. I am officially addicted to these syrupy holiday movies.
I know I could watch other programs that aren’t supposed to take a lot of mental energy — sports for example. As a San Francisco Bay Area native, this is an unexpectedly intense season for fans and instead of entertaining, the games are draining a lot of energy.
We have the 49ers playing somewhat lower than the belly of a pregnant snake and evidently intent on cleaning the entire basement all by themselves while the Warriors — oh my gosh! — are doing so incredibly well that I find myself holding my breath and turning blue wondering just how long the winning streak can be maintained. So much of my energy and brain cells expended while curled up on the couch watching young men play games.
I think world-wide events have also helped drive me to this place of sugary fantasy. I used to enjoy the news. But, do I really want to watch 24 hour coverage of terrorist attacks, knowing every few minutes another commentator will be speculating on cause, effect and what’s in store for the future? Bad enough to hear the known facts without be re-terrorized by 24 hour, non-stop conjecture mongers.
And the presidential contenders? Do I even need to begin?
Football, basketball, terrorists, commentators and politicians. They’re draining way too much of my mental energy. Instead, I’m opting for the brain candy.
Bring on the next schmaltzy movie. I’ll bring the Kleenex and hot spiced cider.