I have a confession to make: I watched The Hills, and I liked it. Sometimes it was lame, and who didn’t know it was fake, honestly? My DVR picked up the finale the other day and I watched it, getting a little teary-eyed over the whole Kristin/Brody thing. I loved the big reveal at the end. What a smart and sassy way to end the show.
The finale underscored something that had been on my mind that week: what’s real and what’s not?
I got to have an unexpected trip with my dad, my younger sister and my younger brother that week. My dad and sister decided to surprise me, and they picked up my brother along the way.
My brother has a lot of issues related to events from our childhood. He and my dad had a contentious relationship at best, and hadn’t spoken in years before last Thanksgiving. I wasn’t looking forward to that trip, but apparently they talked and worked things out.
Or so I thought. My brother began to bring up some of the same subjects again, generally at the most inappropriate times and in the most inappropriate places. He would start out the conversation with “Remember that time…?”
My father has had several strokes and is not in great health, and much of his memory is gone, so he has an excuse for not “remembering” these “memories” my brother has. I don’t have that excuse, and I don’t remember them either.
It got me to thinking about the nature of reality. What’s real? What isn’t? How can I be sure that what I remember is what really happened? I’m convinced that it is, but I’m sure my younger brother is just as convinced that his version is fact.
So who is right? I’d like to think it is me, because I haven’t had years of drug and alcohol abuse to riddle my brain full of holes.
Then again, I could be wrong.