How is this a Chic Flick?
I went on a binge for stories since I’m short on stories and I decided to go after romantic comedies…
About 50% are about sanctioned cheating.
The movies with men in them have them being jerks and chasing women for basically sex. More than half is about how the man in less than two months slept with a number of women while separated from the mysterious female. (All I can think of is STDs)
And then the ones with the serious separation time that makes me want to bang my head against the desk and ask what are they thinking? Sorry, 3 years is three years too long. Spend more time on developing the relationship and less on montage scenes and separation montage scenes–please.
Then there are the films about women who dress up in heels and magically gets the man, whom they most likely did 1-4 with and then sleeps with a bunch of guys–and while I don’t sanction men doing that–I don’t sanction women either.
Women who seek love aren’t that stupid. We don’t sleep with 20 guys, in order to take back sexual power and then have to determine ourselves by men’s standards and then end up trying to reclaim our feminine power through things like clothes and make up (more men’s terms). Women can be women too without having to bend to how men define women. I want to see that in a romantic comedy. I want to see a woman being a woman, doing well at her job without being shown as a goodie two shoes or a bitch, but human trying to seek love without having to do the “OMG a make over.” I want to see women being women trying to keep a marriage together and rekindle that relationship. And I don’t like watching sanctioned cheating as if there is someone saying, “Hey cheat–it’s OK.” and when you ask the film why, it says something like, “It’s reclaiming the sexual power of women.” Can there be a romantic comedy without the rival? Without the Best Friend ever? Why can’t we women get films that actually empower women who are trying to seek love and a career–in true instance?
Is it sad the closest we got was When Harry Met Sally? Sally was flawed, not a bitch. But there was nothing really slimming her into a role of what is “female” v. what is “male” which just makes me gag more watching these films, which just feels like a long lecture to no where. Maybe I’m the only woman in history that dislikes shopping for clothes and doesn’t buy into the White Middle Class WASP definition of dating.
Maybe this list is the reason why I quit watching American Romantic comedy.
More professions are writer or in the industry… lazy writers.
There comes a time when you can no longer blame your parents.
Title is loosely from a JK Rowling speech at Harvard.
I can no longer blame my parents for the things I do, so I am taking responsibility for myself. I am setting out goals for myself. I’m going to follow my learning curve towards maturity, in my own way and fashion myself after the things that make one mature.
1. Know yourself.
2. Face yourself.
3. Accept and love yourself.
4. Stand up for yourself.
5. Take responsibility for yourself.
6. Take responsibility for others.
A crappy childhood–I could grind myself all over that. I could talk about how my parents never faced the teasing I received or had “retrograde” memory that would make Ms. Rowling look like making Dumbeldore gay very mild. I could talk about how I lived in fear of my mom yelling at me every day and when she was not, she was cold and distant. I could blame all of that on my current situation, but I can’t anymore. I can’t afford it.
On the other half of the world my birthday is coming. And I’ve determined for the following year that I need to learn how to open myself more to new possibilities. Such as getting published, holding down a job for more than a few months, getting out of this apartment. I want to open myself more socially because for the last two years after the heartache of losing trust in my family, I’ve been caving myself in a hole. I don’t have time to wallow or self-pity. That’s not taking responsibility.
I am not borderline. I am not my mom. I am not going to be codependent. I am not my dad. Pieces inevitably are a part of me–because when you interact with anyone, pieces of you and they intermingle and rebuild themselves into each other, becoming another whole.
I can become stronger than that. Maybe this year I’ll reach the coveted 20 rejections I always dream about getting in a year. Maybe this year I’ll find a job that I absolutely love and isn’t a placeholder. Maybe this year I can find the place in the world that allows me to shine all of my talents and virtues. I want to fight for one more year to become a little more me and have confidence in that.