I Remember Exactly When

This month has been a time of feeling as if there is this hand perpetually closing around my throat. Just enough to be unwell, but not enough to feel like I'm dying. While actually following the instructions of staying home and reducing contact with others as much as possible, I found my self feeling alone down into my bones. It's not a surprise that calls and video chats aren't enough to make up for the missing hugs and smiles from my loved ones. I've even hit a point where being around strangers causes me to have a fight or flight response. I fly.

 

To help fight this ever sinking feeling, I tried to hit the videos to make me feel happy. It's a tall order since I have at my disposal many choices. The trick to it is to find the right one. I found the answer in reliving the big reveals of pop cultural juggernauts. Not to beat a topic to the ground, but Endgame of course is a huge one. See earlier posts. This time it was lacking and it didn't take long to find the way to make it a little more enjoyable. I was missing community, I found it in reaction videos.

 

 I will assemble anything he wants.

 

The wonder of this part of the movie is the feeling I got when it happened. Never mind the subsequent feelings and how they have evolved in the short time since then (again, see earlier posts). My attempt to recapture it is to feel the genuine reactions of those living it. Kind of like how parents watch their children when they show them something they love for the first time. Ice cream, Disneyland, or Santa. 

For all that I complain that crowds have so much potential to ruin my enjoyment of something, I also should give them credit for enhancing my experience when the circumstances are right. Don't talk over the moment, but cheer your heart out when the hero appears just in time.

How can you see what's happening?

There is also a happy time to relive the good parts of something you followed for so long. Unless you're looking for validation, I don't recommend watching the reaction videos of the shit moments that made you hate that which you once enjoyed. That crowd reaction can underline what already felt like a betrayal. Take it from me who tried it right before writing this. 

Seriously, don't do it. The choking feeling came back pretty quickly. Don't feed the schadenfreude. Go be well instead.

Stretching My Viewing Tolerance

Is there any merit in attempting to experiences genres of entertainment that you do not prefer? It feels so much like forcing yourself to eat the vegetables you know are good for you. You need that fiber and various nutrients. I took this level of thinking and expanded it to horror movies. I wanted to have a extra spooky holiday with some horror/thriller type movies.

I was never really a big horror fan. I could handle violence no problem, for a while. I am still okay with PG-13 levels of action violence. But now Tarantino shit is no longer on my docket. In my more recent years, I find myself searching for the happily ever after. No, the guaranteed happily at least when the story is over.

I grabbed what I thought would be a good mix for the sake of good for Halloween, and "hey, I heard this was good".

Turns out a movie having over 90% on Rotten Tomatoes does not mean you'll enjoy it. Made by a cinematic genius, same deal. Also the same for has a cult following. I know these things in my head, and in my heart, but I decided that I wanted to try anyway.

First, Jennifer's Body. It was okay. I see why at the time it came out, it upset horror fans. I can get why it now has a second life in the cult status. So far this is the one I enjoyed the most.

Second, Rope. It was an interesting experiment. I like what was attempted. As for the movie as a whole, I felt uncomfortable the whole time. I get that's the point, but why would I do this to myself?

Third, Green Room. I understand why this is was highly rated by critics. It was very well done and so much is accomplished with so little. However, fuck this movie. I was looking for an excuse to hit the pause button just to calm down. Then I realized the movie would last longer if I kept it up. I do not have the stomach to give up on a movie yet. I really wanted to hit the fast forward button. I made it, but it was then I though about why I was torturing myself.

I don't go into "haunted houses" because I don't enjoy being scared. I definitely don't do roller coaster for the "thrill". There is enough in the world to set off my anxiety, so this isn't my brand of entertainment. Do I need to be watching these movies to be a well rounded person? Does it matter at all? Does it only matter to me?

Or is it just about how I don't want the world to think I'm a wuss? So then why would I admit it in writing? It's to prove that I'm not a wuss. Hey world, I don't like horror movies and I'll say it again. That doesn't make me less than. Now that I've established that, I can now use my time watching what I enjoy. Bring on the Disney movies I've been avoiding because I don't want to sob uncontrollably.

At least there the emotion I'm feeling brings a feeling of being cleansed. Seriously, I haven't seen Coco yet because I'm not ready to deal with it yet. I will bring the tissues and my dog to hug. (I needed them both after the first 20 minutes for Up. Might as well be prepared.)

Cuts Like a Knife

Just had my first surgery as an adult. I still don't know if wisdom teeth removed counts as surgery, but that definitely happened in the teen years. My fear of the unknown combined with my not great teeth out experience and I can confirm, pain sucks.

 

As time is needed to heal, my pop culture addled brain does not need much to trigger all ranges of reference. There are the many obvious, and I even complained at my last appointment that I wanted to heal like freaking Wolverine. Or any damn superhero. Now that I think about it, I'll take a scene cut to me healed. Bleh this is hard.

Well three references hit me hard during this latest and I'm here to archived them. In fact, I forgot number two for a few days, so let's do this now before it goes again.

 

1. To help exercise my lungs during recovery, they gave me an incentive spirometer. Part of the instructions involve inhaling into the tube at a specific rate. I can't look at this tool without reading it as Don Giovanni from Robin Hood, Men in Tights. Let's all enjoy Don Giovanni right now.

 

 

So much dumb and brilliance happening at once.

Sadly the exact moment from the movie is not on YouTube, but thanks GetYarn for giving me evidence that it's real. 

2. I've never seen There Will Be Blood, but I have for years listened to a podcaster that loves it. When that happens, you pick up quotes that you have no context so you just take it literally. And I did. Post surgery care involved a drainage bulb. I still, one weel later, have enough strength to give this "quote" the energy it deserves and when the bulb was removed, I forgot this was flowing through my head for days. But I can't deny it.

Please, don't drink it up.

3. It turns out my surgeon had a conversation with me while I was still at the hospital under observation. Yep, had no memory what so ever of that. He called back days later to check in a and to repeat what he told me then. The mass they removed was tested and turned up benign. This is wonderful news but also put an early Scrubs moment in the mind projector. 

 

 I love Doctor Jan Itor.

 

So there I am a week out and allowed a damn shower. No more lung exercises, drainage bulbs, and test results have been delivered. Oh, my brain won't stop. In fact in trying to figure out the temporarily forgotten "Drainage", mind started to fill in anything it could handle to remember. Since I still need to sleep with my head elevated, let's just finish up on a classic. 

 

 

Tears for a Parasocial Friend

I have a false memory. I wanted to say that when I was a little girl, I remember hearing the news that Gregory Peck died. I was sad and talked to my older sister about it. She chided me and asked why I cared since I didn't know him. Looking up when Gregory Peck actually died I saw that I was already in my 20s when that happened. It wasn't him, but it was a prominent actor that I knew of, but apparently because I wasn't in their sphere, I shouldn't mourn their death. 

 

My mother always described me as a very sensitive child. Accurate and I call it anxiety now. Or detail oriented depending on how I use it. 

 

The memory that is more vivid and more painful is when my best friend called me up in tears when Chris Farley died. Our friendship was forged in cartoons and comedy (specifically SNL). I don't remember crying, but her pain made me hurt and I wouldn't be surprised if I cried for her, him, or both.

 

Hearing the news of Chadwick Boseman's death came on the heels of the end of a live online comedy show. My husband stole my phone to make sure I didn't read the news and ruin my evening. It didn't stop others in the Zoom chat sending their quick RIP messages. I thought maybe it was a strange reference to Doug Loves Movies and how he jokingly would say that about a random celebrity. The joke being that how horrible would it be to be the one to find out about someone's death from a quip in a comedy show.

 

I was shocked. I hurt. I cried. I'm tearing up just remembering it. I also felt a sting of my sister's words decades ago. I didn't know him. Why was I crying?

 

I could analyze this. In fact I did in the moment. He was only 43 and died from the same cancer that took a family member of mine last year. He brought to life incredible characters and gave us portrayals of real life trail blazers.The videos of him with his fans were incredible and show what a beautiful human he was. How could he be gone when he had more stories to tell, more art to create, and more lives to touch?

 

At the same time, I had bawled my eyes out mere weeks ago watching Avengers Endgame. Of course that scene will hold even bigger weight as now the reemergence of heroes centers around the one who is now gone. 

Friday night I was crying for him as my "sensitive child" wanted to talk about it. My younger self that taught me to walk it off wanted to shove my hurt down and not bother anyone. My husband held me as my conflicted self went through the very small list of those I can allow myself to be vulnerable with. He encouraged me to call a very special friend. Pretty much the only one I admitted to last month about my Avengers tears. Bless her and her reaction of "Makes sense. I did that." Have this kind of person in your life. 

But what if she hadn't heard yet? I couldn't be the one to tell her. Yes, I fear being the bringer of pain, even though I did not cause it. I cried as I debated and drafted a text that wouldn't worry her. Can't be too light because that's not fair to spring my crying during what was supposed to be a quick call. I loathe showing weakness that I cannot control. I do not want to hurt my friends.

 

Escaping to social media was a mistake. While the videos of those reminiscing about Black Panther's release and fun experiences of Black Panther fans being surprised by him appearing from behind a curtain, my happy tears were still tears. The devastating ones came with reading those asking for help on how to tell their children what happened. And the one that recounted their child's reply if it was because of the cops or COVID. Or the photos of super hero toys mourning the loss of Black Panther. 

 

Not to sound like the biggest asshole, but I thought about all the future Marvel projects. I am shamed that I cavalierly thought, they'll probably just have to focus on Shuri. And while I typed this, I was bummed that one of my favorite SNL skits Black Jeopardy featuring T'Challa will now be sour instead of brilliant and hilarious. There internet, please punish me for my lapse of selfishness.

If you hurt. You are not alone. I'll leave you with this beautiful image and text from Instagram account Melanin & Mental Health.

 

Why We Grieve People We Never Met

1. Their work helped us get through a difficult time in our lives.

2. Their work inspired our dreams & goals.

3. They modeled possibility.

4. Their death triggers our grief of previous loss.

5. Their passing activates our fears around death.

 

Source: Instagram @melaninandmentalhealth

 

 

 

May you be well. I wish that this is what I was told all those years ago.

No Drano for My Tears

This week I needed to cry. Badly. I had overworked my angry muscles. I needed to express myself and have a catharsis.

But didn't want to cheat. If that even makes sense. On Monday I went down a rabbit hole of YouTube clips. I landed on scene in Avengers Endgame where (spoiler alert) the ashes of the dead come back in a Dr. Strange portal. There was a riveting moment of seeing their success and the cavalry return that gets me. Tiny streams came to my eyes.

Not good enough though. I refuse to allow this Marvel movie to make me cry. A movie must be straight up animated and I'm watching a mother die (fuck you, The Land Before Time) or Pixar montage of a couple's life together (fuck you, first twenty minutes of Up) for me to accept my tears.

That's right, I had to earn a catharsis. I've managed to easily laugh to try and ease my burdens. I think my body caught on. Funny TV shows aren't working anymore. Time with friends have me smiling, but I'm burned out on mild contented laughter. I think I need an angry cry.

My brain took over and decided I would not get The Chainsmokers & Coldplay's Something Just Like This.

Then I looked up what it meant. I appreciate this thoughtful analysis about it and how it's just beautiful at face value.

I don't know why it happened. The song is still in my head. I'll let it stay there for now. Thank goodness I like it. I remain on my quest for peace. But not like the Superman in the song. Oh great, I can't just let a pop culture reference go, can I?

For Your Laughing Pleasure

No surprise, I've been trying so hard to not drop into complete sadness in my brain. It's difficult to do when my muscle memory keeps me on various social media platforms. BOOM, the reality of the world in my face, BAM! Ow, my heart. 

To meet somewhere in the middle, here are four comedy sets that touch on some of what I'm focusing on, but also making me laugh. I used to just get sad at the mention of the existence of upsetting things. That happens. Comedy is subjective. But one day it was pointed out to me even if a comedian is talking about real problems or serious topics and I don't feel that I have the right to laugh about it, they are also inviting me to laugh. 

So without further distraction (yep, I did get sidetracked by social media again in between typing these paragraphs), please enjoy.

Dulcé Sloan

White Women Talking About Feminism

 

Whitney Cummings 

What It Takes for a Man to Get Called Crazy

Taylor Tomlinson Judges Your Wedding Choices

Julia Shiplett

Why Can’t the Maid of Honor Roast the Bride?

Black Lives Matter

I'm at a place right now where a few days ago I thought about posting about the License Plate Game or riddles from Die Hard 3. Unfortunately, as my neighboring cities are being looted, I am sitting here holding back tears because all I can do is hear George Floyd's words "I can't breathe". 

I did not and do not have the courage to watch the video. I see these words and photos of his face and all I feel is pain. I retreat to my room and wait for the emotions to pass. I am privileged to get enough time to no longer hurt. 

I made the foolish decision to go back on social media right now. For some, it ignites a passion that helps them fight, but for me and it's like sticking my hand in a fire. Know what you need to do to keep your mental health stable. Then I want all of my people to do exactly that. 

Because when we are in a place where we are healthy and functional, it is our responsibility to do what we can to dismantle these injustices. Now is the time to critically view yourself and your privilege. Educate yourself and question what you have been taught and always been told. Listen to the black community and do the work to understand why every issue is rooted in race. 

It is hard. You may hurt. You may cry. But it is a reasonable sacrifice. We must do better.