Unpacking Room with Mom, Sin City,
Apr. 1st, 2005 11:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sarcasticwriterRelax, I'm not doing anything April Fool's Day related. I ignored the whole damn day. Which I suppose is sort of a way to April Fool's Day April Fool's Day. You think I'm going to do it? No! Ha ha! Aren't you surprised?
Anyway.
The bulk of the day was spent, surprisingly, with my mother, unpacking my room. I did things like books and knick-knacks, which had to be arranged just so to fit all of them (of course...*scowl*...I somehow ended up with not enough space for all the books, but whatever), and she put away clothes. Since I packed clothes with books to make the boxes lighter, we were both able to work together pretty well.
The more I think about it, the more I loved just being with my mother today as we moved around the room, setting it in order (And I love that I have a Livejournal to record that moment, because LJ forces contemplation, and I don't know that I would have just recognized how important today was if I wasn't writing about it right now). I'm so blessed. My mother and I have a good relationship. Absent my brother, we always have. I never went through teenage rebellion because she never gave me anything to rebel against. I see so often in the media women who have problems with their mothers - whole movies on the subject. But I don't. Today was precious evidence of that. We have a warm, easy, natural love for each other and it was a quiet, unconscious joy to have her companionship and help today.
I tend to shy away from thoughts of my mother someday dying, but when I have an especially good time with her, the thought sometimes occurs. Macabre, maybe, but it...lets me know to be grateful now, to cherish it now, to love her now. To plan to not have regrets. Precious day.
I have no idea how to transition out of that gracefully, so here's a tire-squealing change of direction...
My mother dropped me off at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bongirl5's, and she, merrygentry and I headed out for dinner and Sin City we struck out (tee hee! a pun!) at Ballpark Pizza, which is a beer-and-pizza joint that doesn't aspire to be anything else. We walked into a stuffy, airless room with crowded-looking benches and tables, saw no clear way to order, there were dozens of screaming children and a couple of birthday parties or team celebrations or something. My nerves couldn't take it, and we decided to eat at the theater complex, instead.
Sin City. Oh, how I loved this movie. How I loved it. Monica leaned over to me early on to make a quip, and I remember warding her off with one hand and saying a sort of a curt "Don't." Not because she wasn't going to say something highly amusing (usually it's fun sitting next to her in theaters for that reason), but because I didn't want to be amused. I didn't want the slightest reason to be drawn out of the film, not even to laugh.
Which is why I don't even know if I want to write about it. I always find myself at a loss to discuss art I love, because other than pointing out that you love it there's not much to do. Bad movies can be reconstructed, but good ones, the best ones, work so well that you can't find the seams to start deconstruction why they're so good.
This movie wasn't that good, but it was close. For me. Specifically. It played into my favorite plot archtypes and my favorite character archytpes. I am most deeply touched by melodrama, and there are few genres more melodramatic than noir (and apparently, graphic novel noir). I adore very dangerous men who have a respect and/or soft spot for women. I adore that chivalry. I also adore women who don't need chivalry, because they're female warriors. I adore seeing strength in a package that should not contain it. I find the whole concept of "sins avenged" sexy as hell.
In fact, one of the plotlines that seemed to squick many in the audience (more than the violence, even) is very, very loosely similar to a plot I'm working on. Which doesn't say a lot except that I was predisposed to it.
So in short - if you like what I like, see it. If not, read some reviews and judge on your own.
I got home in time for the season finale of Battlestar Galactica at 1:00 AM. Here, words actually do fail.
Anyway.
The bulk of the day was spent, surprisingly, with my mother, unpacking my room. I did things like books and knick-knacks, which had to be arranged just so to fit all of them (of course...*scowl*...I somehow ended up with not enough space for all the books, but whatever), and she put away clothes. Since I packed clothes with books to make the boxes lighter, we were both able to work together pretty well.
The more I think about it, the more I loved just being with my mother today as we moved around the room, setting it in order (And I love that I have a Livejournal to record that moment, because LJ forces contemplation, and I don't know that I would have just recognized how important today was if I wasn't writing about it right now). I'm so blessed. My mother and I have a good relationship. Absent my brother, we always have. I never went through teenage rebellion because she never gave me anything to rebel against. I see so often in the media women who have problems with their mothers - whole movies on the subject. But I don't. Today was precious evidence of that. We have a warm, easy, natural love for each other and it was a quiet, unconscious joy to have her companionship and help today.
I tend to shy away from thoughts of my mother someday dying, but when I have an especially good time with her, the thought sometimes occurs. Macabre, maybe, but it...lets me know to be grateful now, to cherish it now, to love her now. To plan to not have regrets. Precious day.
I have no idea how to transition out of that gracefully, so here's a tire-squealing change of direction...
My mother dropped me off at
bongirl5's, and she, merrygentry and I headed out for dinner and Sin City we struck out (tee hee! a pun!) at Ballpark Pizza, which is a beer-and-pizza joint that doesn't aspire to be anything else. We walked into a stuffy, airless room with crowded-looking benches and tables, saw no clear way to order, there were dozens of screaming children and a couple of birthday parties or team celebrations or something. My nerves couldn't take it, and we decided to eat at the theater complex, instead. Sin City. Oh, how I loved this movie. How I loved it. Monica leaned over to me early on to make a quip, and I remember warding her off with one hand and saying a sort of a curt "Don't." Not because she wasn't going to say something highly amusing (usually it's fun sitting next to her in theaters for that reason), but because I didn't want to be amused. I didn't want the slightest reason to be drawn out of the film, not even to laugh.
Which is why I don't even know if I want to write about it. I always find myself at a loss to discuss art I love, because other than pointing out that you love it there's not much to do. Bad movies can be reconstructed, but good ones, the best ones, work so well that you can't find the seams to start deconstruction why they're so good.
This movie wasn't that good, but it was close. For me. Specifically. It played into my favorite plot archtypes and my favorite character archytpes. I am most deeply touched by melodrama, and there are few genres more melodramatic than noir (and apparently, graphic novel noir). I adore very dangerous men who have a respect and/or soft spot for women. I adore that chivalry. I also adore women who don't need chivalry, because they're female warriors. I adore seeing strength in a package that should not contain it. I find the whole concept of "sins avenged" sexy as hell.
In fact, one of the plotlines that seemed to squick many in the audience (more than the violence, even) is very, very loosely similar to a plot I'm working on. Which doesn't say a lot except that I was predisposed to it.
So in short - if you like what I like, see it. If not, read some reviews and judge on your own.
I got home in time for the season finale of Battlestar Galactica at 1:00 AM. Here, words actually do fail.
