Today my husband and I finally went to see the new Star Wars movie. I’m not a huge Star Wars fan, not nearly as into the series as my husband has always been, but I don’t mind these new episodes too much so far. Part of it is that I like having a strong female Jedi lead (even if she does seem to be lacking a bit in backstory from my point of view). But my favorite part of the new series so far is Kylo Ren. From the first time I saw his profile, he immediately reminded me of the character Severus Snape from Harry Potter, whom I love. I’m not sure why he reminds me of Snape so much, maybe the dark hair against white skin, or the black robes, or the constantly simmering anger, or the emo vibes, or the deep monotone…
Anyhow, getting to see so much Kylo Ren in this new episode was a treat 🙂 I was really happy when he crushed his helmet, so we could see his face more. Before seeing this latest installment, I had seen all kinds of claims about it online and heard many, many complaints. Some of the complaints, about plot holes, cinematics, character flaws, etc. might actually have some credence, but the outlandish claims that this new movie is feminist or even communist propaganda seem really, really off to me. Especially the communist claims I’ve heard from some alt-righters online. Even the feminist claims seem seriously messed up though. Just because we have a female lead it is overly feminist? I don’t get that at all.
The following is a poem about depression, anxiety, and bipolar disorder:
The Problem is Me
Written By: Maranda Russell
The problem is me.
The problem has always been me.
It wouldn’t matter
where I go,
where I live,
what house I call home,
who is at my side,
who is under my feet,
who is in power,
or what is going on –
the problem remains
as the problem is me.
Tonight was a bad night. The pain, isolation, and despair came crashing down so hard and fast that I crawled off the couch and collapsed onto the carpet, on my side, in a loose fetal position and just wept. I gripped the beige carpet fibers in my fingers and pulled as the tears pooled below my cheek. I pinched myself. I aimlessly pummeled the floor. The anger exploded in that way it always does, boomeranging right back into myself. I considered my options. All the ways it could end. The option of reaching out for help. The feeling that grasping for that help would only inconvenience others. After all, my husband has to work tomorrow, he needs his sleep. I can’t take the car, who would bring it back to him?
Eventually, I made my way outside. Hoping the cold would numb it all. I walked on the icy, wet grass and then took a seat on the deck stairs. Soon my feet were frozen numb, and my body curled inward, instinctively seeking to conserve its heat, even as I wished that I could bear it long enough to freeze. Dark thoughts of black toes breaking off soon made hypothermia a less attractive ending. If only it were like a Jack London novel, a slow nodding off into warm, cozy whiteness.
Eventually, I found myself back where I started, on the couch, hoping to find comfort on electronic waves, here in the place where lost things seem to gather in today’s society. I soon stumbled across someone else crying and hugging a giant stuffed giraffe and it soothed the edges just a little. Now, I can only hope tomorrow is brighter.
Do you love cartoons? I absolutely do. However, I think when most people think of cartoons they think of funny, silly stuff. What I love are the depressed, angry, grumpy, slightly emo characters…
- Those like Eeyore, who walk around like they are on the verge of suicide, but are just too lazy to actually do it.
- Wile E. Coyote who is so darn smart but seems to have really ticked off the powers that control nature and gravity. (I really wish I could see an episode where Wile catches that bird, roasts him and then tears him limb from limb with a fork and eats the stupid thing.)
- Lucy, who likes to snatch the football away at the last minute and laugh, or Charlie Brown, who falls for the same trick over and over and then wonders what the heck is wrong with him.
- Scar, who can look around and honestly say, “I am surrounded by idiots.”
- Oscar the Grouch, who would rather live in a trashcan than share a house or apartment on a street where everyone is so dang HAPPY all the time.
- Grumpy, who not only was cursed to be a stinking dwarf, but has to live his life with two guys named Dopey and Sneezy hanging around.
- Garfield, who just wants to sleep and eat, but occasionally makes time for exercise by kicking Odie off the table.
- Daria…whom most of you may have forgotten or never watched…but always represented the melancholy ideal for me.
- Butters, who inevitably takes the blame for everything anyone ever does, and Kenny, who is always being slaughtered in one way or another (at least the constant killing never got him down for long).
Of course, this list could go on and on, but I think I got the general idea across. So do you relate to those who are downtrodden, grumpy and miserable too or do you love a different kind of cartoon character? Feel free to comment and leave your thoughts below!
(Want to help support this blog?)