Twenty-Five Year Olds Don't Get Shingles

When the first rash appeared we thought it was poison ivy. We blamed my dog, who had run through poison ivy in our backyard. Then more rashes appeared. The pain increased. The rashes got worse. We applied calamine lotion. I had washed my skin with dish soap and warm water the first and second day of the rash. It just kept getting worse. New rashes popped up. The rashes blistered. It was more of a burning or a stinging, occasionally a stabbing pain, not the itching that poison ivy was supposed to cause. I washed my sheets and blankets and pillowcase and bath towel and dog. I avoided any clothes that I hadn't washed that I thought might have the oil on them.

Shingles came up at one point. But we discounted it because twenty-five year olds don't get shingles.

On about the 7th or 8th day (a Monday, if you're wondering), my mom called the doctor and told them about the rash and they said they would work me in.

I texted my sister telling her that I was going to the doctor for my rash - if it was shingles, I would have to miss my nephew's baptism.

The nurse did all the normal things (weight, blood pressure, pulse, dissolved oxygen in the blood, temperature - even though I had been in for a regular check up just over a week earlier - before the rashes) before asking why I was there. She asked questions: how long had I had it; where was it; had I been exposed to poison ivy; had I been around anyone with a similar rash; had I had a fever or headache; had I changed detergents or soaps lately; did it itch, burn or sting; had I had chicken pox as a child?

Yes, twice, minor outbreaks when I was two. She took notes on where the rash was - just on the right side? Yes.

She said the doctor would be in in a minute. I knew what the questions were pointing to.

Twent-five year olds don't get shingles.

Soon the P.A. came in. He had seen me the last time I was here and he said something about how it hadn't been long. Then "Ouch." Took a step into the room. "That's shingles."

I hadn't been surprised. I had already composed the facebook status in my head "somehow 25 year old me went out and got shingles." In fact, despite my mental protestations, I had been expecting this.

He asked me why I had taken so long to come in. I told him we were convinced it was poison ivy. He said, "Doubt is the best medicine."

He prescribed an anti-viral (2 pills 5x a day) and a steroid (4 pills for 3 days, 3 pills for 3 days, so on...). He told me the steroid was for my nerves to decrease the inflammation. He told me that if my rashes didn't start to dry up and were reappearing to refill the anti-viral.

He told me if the rash was gone, but I still had pain in the area in four weeks to come back and we would put me on something for nerve pain. Some people who get shingles get a complication called post-heretic neuropathy which means they still have nerve pain after the rash has subsided.

He told me we were more worried about my nerves than the rashes. He told me to avoid pregnant women and young children. The blisters contain the active phase of the virus. He told me to keep it covered in the sun, because the photons can cause scarring. He took careful notes of the rashes's locations. He found me a coupon for the anti-viral. My mom paid (I currently don't have insurance or a job). We went to the pharmacy to fill the prescription.

When I got home, I cried. I was disappointed to miss my nephew's baptism. And even though I was mentally prepared, I really deeply hoped that I had a bad case of poison ivy that could easily be knocked out. And maybe I was a little nervous about developing complications because I had waited seven days to go in when they want you to go in within three.

Twenty-five year olds can and do get shingles.

To be continued . . .

Stay healthy,

Sharon

VARK

This is not a poem. I know, it's April. I know I haven't posted a poem in five days. But maybe I'll get back on track this weekend. Allow me this divergence.

Who ever would have thought that I would be defending the current president? Well buckle up, because I'm about to.


Actually, I'm not defending him. Today I am going to attempt to educate people about diverse learning styles.

I was reading an opinion piece from the washington post when I came across this. I like and respect the Washington Post, but this is not okay. This Comic Riff by Michael Cavna was published this morning at seven. It seems to poke fun at Trump because his team allegedly requested that intelligence briefings have more graphics and visuals because he claims to be an auditory and visual learner.

But my concern is that reading between the lines, it seems like Trump isn't the only one being made fun of here. To me, it seems like the author is implying that auditory and visual learners are dumb. And that is alarming.

When you scroll down and look at the comments (there are four at the time of this posting), two commenters have posted comments that are negative. They read as follows:

"There is nothing here that a third grade education couldn't fix."
"There is no such thing as a 'visual AND auditory learner.' What is being described is someone who can't read."

Both of these comments are making the conclusion that someone claiming to be an auditory and visual learner is actually under-educated or illiterate, but that is not the case.

In actuality there are diverse preferences of learning. The most recognized in the field of education are: Visual, Aural (auditory), Read-Write, and Kinesthetic. If you are curious where you fall, you can take a VARK assessment here. You can be any combination of learning styles, from only one mode to all four and any combination in between. Visual and Auditory learners DO exist.

As a peer educator in a university writing center, I spend a lot of time pondering how to help visual and kinesthetic learners improve their writing. School systems tend to target read-write and aural learners. I can tell you from first hand experience that having a less common learning style does not make you less intelligent.

If you are interested, my most recent results are: Visual 9, Aural 7, Read/Write 13, Kinesthetic 10. What surprised me the most was that visual was higher than aural. In the past, visual had been my lowest learning style.

In general, visual learners are found to be more rare (see VARK stats); however, due to the rise of infographics, I would hazard a guess that visual learners are more common than indicated by the VARK assessment. Visuals are often more intuitive to process and more approachable. You might not even finish this blog post because it would only appeal to my fellow reader-writer learners.

We are diverse people, with diverse learning styles. No style of learning should be treated as less intelligent because they are not.

Our world is a highly visual place, from print ad campaigns to videos and photographs on the news. The more senses you use to experience something, the more it sticks with you. Before written language developed, we had cave paintings. Being visual is ingrained in who we are. In fact, I might argue that we are becoming more visual, just look at the rise of social media like instagram and snapchat which focus on the visual aspects of sharing and communication.

Even scientists put an emphasis in reporting their information visually. We create graphs, diagrams, pictures, and drawings to be used in reports and to convey our research to the public. You can tell me numbers and trends all day, but show me a graph illustrating your point, and I'll understand the concept much faster. Things won't stick if you don't understand. Personally, I will be more willing to take in more information in the form of an infographic. I will scroll through my feed on instagram endlessly. We are all about the visual. Take food porn, normally with food you are focused on the taste, but with food porn, you are focused on the appearance of the food. We are a highly visual society.

In actuality, the best way to learn and understand something is by encountering it in multiple ways: reading it, writing it, hearing it, seeing a picture of it.

There is nothing wrong with asking for graphics and pictures. If anything a person should be praised for asking for information delivery in the method that works best for them.

Sharon

NaPoWriMo - Day 7

Another late poem. Sigh. Oh well. I looked at the prompt ("a fortuitous poem") and was completely uninspired. Here instead is an unlucky poem.

Some days it seems that a small black cloud is floating overhead
It pours and pours, and any interaction fills you with dread.
You are late to work
You find a moth eaten hole in your favorite shirt.
The contents of your purse spill before everyone on the train
The fact that this day is abysmal is quite plain.
Seeing a shiny copper penny on the sidewalk, you stoop to pick it up
But then you say it is tails and you exclaim "just my luck!"

Wishing you only heads-up pennies,

Sharon

NaPoWriMo - Day 6

Today's prompt is to write a poem looking at one thing from different perspectives.

A blank page

Is a daunting task

A page to be filled

With carefully constructed lines.

A blank page

Is the promise

Of a new beginning.

It is a new adventure

I touch my pen to the page

And know not where I will end.

A blank page

Is a waste

Torn from a spiral

And lost in haste.

A blank page

Is a canvas

For a work of art

A new masterpiece

You need only to start.

It's all about perspective,

Sharon

NaPoWriMo - Day 5

Today's prompt was to write a poem inspired by Mary Oliver's work. The poem should focus on the natural world, incorporate specific details, and include why the landscape, plant, animal is meaningful.


Mulberry Trees

When I was a girl
Very young and small
On the church's plaground
Grew a mulberry tree
Gnarled, wide and tall.
We would stand on the picnic tables
Beneath the mighty tree
And pluck the fruits from its branches
And eat our fill of that sweet.
But one day they removed the tree
And built a large building where it once stood.

Just last year,
I discovered another mulberry tree
Though this one was far smaller
Than the tree of my memory
It had many branches coming from one trunk
And it had many fruits for me to eat.
Sadly, they were more sour than sweet.

Outside my current apartment,
I was pleased to find a mulberrry tree
That, in my opinion, is solely mine.
It grows beside the bayou
Where brackish waters flow
Where ducks swim
And fish jump with a splash
Across the way,
I see grass like a wetland
And from time to time
I see a snowy heron stalking along.
Just once I saw some turtles.
And often I see ducklings.
The bayou and that mulberry tree
are my daily respite.
For over the water,
I watch the golden sunrise.
And I wait for that fruit to ripen
And then it shall be mine.

Sharon

NaPoWriMo - Day 4

Oh dear. Today's prompt is to write a poem inspired by Edward Elgar's Enigma Variations. The poem should have an idea or word or line that isn't expressed directly. Actually an idea just came to me . . .

It is November
And it's not too cold
But it kind of is, for a Texan.
I'm bundled up: coat, scarf, hat.
Eating a delicious pastry.
Supposedly French.
It has bacon and egg and potato and cheese.
The pastry crust was oh so delicious.
I threw a small piece to a nearby Sea Gull
The largest gull I've ever seen.
And a totem pole! There is a real totem pole!
I'm taking everything in
And loving every minute of it.
I walk around the area of town near my hotel.
Where I eat a slice of delicious pear.
I should have bought one
But instead I bought a pair of apples for my mom.
I wandered and wandered
And saw them throwing fish.
I didn't know it would be so loud.
And street performers like I never would have expected.
And shops on shops on shops.
Shops for anything you can imagine.
That evening I find myself
Closing down a bar
Standing outside with the bartender
He is smoking
He positions himself downwind.
My cheeks are warm
Am I blushing
Or was it that awful wine?
He notices I'm shivering
Sends me up to my room to get a coat
Teases me when I return
"Did you think I would go?"
We walk around and talk
About what, I couldn't say now.
But it was nice.
Familiar, even though we'd just met.
He explained the soap suds on the roads
And we walked past some other people
Walking the streets like us,
But not.
He points out some buildings.
We must make the block ten times.
I don't know, I didn't count.
The city felt like it was mine that night.
Like we were the only two there
And like we owned it all.
It was ours for that solitary moment in time.
He walks me up to my hotel room
"If I'm never going to see you again,
I think I should kiss you."
I let him,
On my cheek.
Then he is gone like a ghost or a memory.
Maybe it didn't even happen - not really.
Because that is not like me.
The next day I get breakfast
(Another delicious pastry)
A chai tea latte in a oversized cup
People watch
Ride the light rail to the airport.
Fly alone (for the first time)
Home.




Any guesses as to the place I'm describing? I think there is one line that really gives it away.

Good riddling!

Sharon

NaPoWriMo - Day 3

I had a long day today so this post is actually coming to you at about 1AM my time on Day 4. I was trying to go to sleep, but I felt like I was forgetting something. Then suddenly it came to me: MY POEM. So I am putting off sleep in favor of not falling off the poetry bandwagon (at least not this early anyway).

Day 3's prompt is to write an elegy that focuses on an unusual fact about the subject of the elegy. At first I thought I might do school (I'm nearing graduation with my masters and I don't plan to return to school after that), but there wasn't anything odd about school. Then I thought I might write a poem around my English teacher, Mr. Fleming (a local legend) who was a great storyteller and always said "dang fried chicken," but despite that I miss him and his english class, he isn't deceased (thank goodness!). Sadly there are many pets that I could write an elegy, but that is not quite right. Interesting side note: apparently O Captain! My Captain is an elegy for Pres. Lincoln, I didn't realize it was an elegy at all, but then I only knew it from that scene in Dead Poet's Society (Robin Williams would be a good subject for an elegy), but I digress.

In December, just before Christmas break, my great aunt Vivian died. I learned that she was dying only days before it happened and I was unable to see her before it did. I held it together thinking that I could say goodbye at her funeral, but sadly, I wasn't able to go to her funeral either. I haven't been to visit her grave. I haven't gotten any closure at all. So tonight, I'm going to write an elegy for Vivian.

Elegy for Great Aunt Vivian

Not by blood were we related
But still my heart rips in two at the loss of you.
Dear sweet lady, almost a century old
How I wish just once more
In my hand, some skip-bo cards to hold.
I remember it like it was yesterday,
Sitting at the round table
The light hanging low overhead.
You would scold us when we didn't play wisely
Because even Skip-bo can have strategy.
I remember the bronzed baby shoes
On a shelf in your trailer
The tree out front
The time I tried chocolate covered orange peel
I didn't like it.
I remember most vividly
Sitting at that table, playing skip-bo
Even though you had to re-teach us
Almost every time we visited.
I wondered sometimes if it bored you
Would you rather be playing bridge?
You kept your independence.
You were vivacious,
Graceful, strong.
Kind, loving,
As long as you lived.
The matriarch of your family.
Even when your kidneys were failing
You were strong, beautiful, kind.
We aspire to be like you.
Sharp as a tack, witty, kind.
You had a skype and a facebook.
You didn't let technology leave you behind.
I remember when we visited you
You always invited my sisters and I
To return. To stay with you for a few days.
I wonder what we would have learned.
Great Aunt Vivian
I miss you so.
I yearn to go back to Kerrville,
To Tumbleweed Drive
To knock on your door
And find you inside
To play one last game of Skip-bo.
I wish you were still alive.

NaPoWriMo - Day 2

Today's prompt is to write a poem inspired by or in the form of a recipe. Which is perfect, because yesterday after I wrote my poem, I made pancakes. And then I really wanted to write a poem about pancakes. So even though it is evening and I'm about to eat some beef barley soup (a little barley goes a long way, by the way!), I give you a poem about pancakes.



Pancakes

Those simple round delights
That's where it all started for me
My love of cooking.

When I was small
My mother would put my high chair
Next to the counter
And I would stand in it,
Spatula in hand,
Guarding the griddle,
Watching as the bubbles popped
Leaving little pock-mark
Air holes in the creamy white surface
Of almost fully cooked pancake.
Tenderly, I would insert the spatula,
Lift up the edge of the pancake
To double check that the bubbles
Weren't lying.
I would inspect the other side
And when the color was satisfactorily
Creamy brown,
I would carefully push the spatula all the way under
Then
Carefully lift
The pancake
And slowly
S l o w l y
F       P
  L  I
It over.
Always,
using two hands.

Those simple round delights
That's where it all started for me
My love of cooking.

When I was older,
I found a worn out cookbook
Of my mother's
Inside, I found a recipe
for "Sweet Milk Pancakes"
I followed the directions
S l o w l y
Meticulously
I made with my own two hands
My very first from-scratch-no-parental-supervision pancakes.
I piled them,
golden brown on a plate
And took them in to my mother
For breakfast in bed on the most sacred of days:
Mother's Day.
Was a child ever so proud of a stack of pancakes?
My mother was proud
She ate them pleased,
My father looked on - jealously.

Those simple round delights
That's where it all started for me
My love of cooking.

When you do it just right
The pancakes will get
A crispy-crunchy, buttery
Ring around the edge.
My siblings and I,
We always fought over those,
The most coveted of pancakes.
The trick, I think,
Is to cook them in butter.
But I'm still not certain
Why they grace the edges of some pancakes
But not others.

Those simple round delights
That's where it all started for me
My love of cooking.

"Don't change things.
Always follow the directions
The first time you make the recipe."
Sage advice
From my mother.
Just the other day,
I wanted some pancakes
But I was feeling lazy
So I used some biscuit mix
But I didn't follow the recipe.
Subbed butter for oil
Used less milk
Added in some vanilla
More than a dash of cinnamon.
Cooked them in butter in a pan
Overcooked them a little.
They came out dense,
But with that perfect
crispy-crunchy
golden brown
edge.

Pancakes.
Those simple round delights.

My life through pancakes?

Happy writing!

Sharon 

NaPoWriMo - Day 1

April has finally arrived! Today's prompt is:"to write a Kay-Ryan-esque poem: short, tight lines, rhymes interwoven throughout, maybe an animal or two, and, if you can manage to stuff it in, a sharp little philosophical conclusion." Honestly, I'm not sure I can do all that. Here goes nothing.

We are cruel
to one another
Forgetting
that if nothing else
we are all human.
We hurt, we fight,
we tear, we shoot,
we rip apart.
We yell angrily
And treat others
As less than.
But usually
we treat animals
like friends,
family even.
We can respect
animals but not
our own species?
Well then,
If it is easier
To treat me
with respect
and as an equal,
by pretending
that I
am a cockatoo,
then by all means
treat me as a cockatoo.




The other day, I was ranting in my brain about feminism and I went down a tangent and pondered how people can treat animals so well and other people so poorly and then I thought: If it is easier to treat me with respect and as an equal if you pretend that I'm a cockatoo, then by all means, treat me as a cockatoo. So I actually started this poem with that bit because I had been wanting to work it into something.

Anyway, happy poem writing!

Sharon

A Study in Charlotte

Lately I've been in a mood to share my opinions on things. This is one final post before my NaPoWriMo poetry!

I recently had the pleasure of reading A Study in Charlotte by Brittany Cavallaro. The story follows the great-(a bunch of greats)-grandchildren of John Watson and Sherlock Holmes, James Watson and Charlotte Holmes. They are in America at boarding school where they must solve a string of incidents which are made to follow Sherlock Holmes stories.

I don't know if book reviews should include Spoiler Alerts, but if they should, this is it (although I haven't described the mystery or said who the perpetrator is, so I don't reveal the MOST vital points, but I recommend reading on with caution).



These characters are, in some ways, very similar to their 'ancestors.'

Sadly, Charlotte is somewhat misanthropic, struggles with drug addiction, and might possibly have an eating disorder. In addition to drug addiction, the story also somewhat touches on the difficult topic of rape; however, I expect this will be a bigger part of the next novels. Due to this more intense subject matter, I would recommend the story for more mature teens.

I love that Charlotte is intelligent, independent, and headstrong. I hate that she struggles with addiction, [the after effects of] rape, and an eating disorder. But sexual harassment and assault are, unfortunately, realities in our schools. I do believe that many girls could find something in Charlotte to identify with.

I like that James has romanticized Charlotte and realizes that he has; he is afraid of getting to know her and having his imaginary Charlotte destroyed, but simultaneously wants more than anything for her to let him in. I think that James is, like me, a bit of a hopeless romantic.

As you might expect, with Charlotte and James working closely together and being of the opposite sex there is some chemistry between them, while this is a welcome aside, I am grateful that this is not the focal point of the story.

I believe Charlotte and James teach each other things, balance each other out, take care of one another, and bring out the best in each other; making them, on the whole, a likable pair.

James's father has been estranged and I believe that James's treatment of his father (keeping him at a distance) is accurate; however, based on personal observations, I'm not sure that his father and step-mother's welcoming attitudes are always real.

While I tend to avoid series, I do look forward to the remaining books in the series.

Other nice things about the book:

• Told from Watson's POV with an epilogue from Charlotte - paying homage to the source material.
• I love the gender bending! Girls can be detectives (and scientists)!
• Charlotte sounds similar to Sherlock.
• Charlotte sounds similar to Scarlet, making the title of the book a play on one of the stories' titles (A Study in Scarlet).
• It's a mystery!
• I somehow managed to solve it (partially) before the main characters!
• More Holmes and Watson!

Less nice things:

• I didn't think of it!
• The presence of Moriartys.

A note about my distaste of Moriarty:

In Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's works, Moriarty was originally introduced specifically to end Sherlock. Doyle had become tired of writing about the detective and thought if he killed him, he could be done with Sherlock (hence Holmes falling over Reichenbach Falls in "The Final Problem"). Honestly, I thought it was a bit shoddy and lazy. Out of nowhere, Moriarty is introduced as this great nemesis, but there was really nothing to point to his existence before that story. Anyway, the plan backfired, Holmesians wanted more and Doyle had to return to Sherlock (thank goodness!).

That being said, I can't hold it against Ms. Cavallaro for including the Moriartys because she is trying to stay true to the source material while introducing interesting and enjoyable twists - I devoured the book in two sittings, something I've not done in awhile.

Happy Reading!

Sharon

Beauty and the Beast

In a few days, I will begin the month-long deluge of poetry. In the meantime, I give you a review/critique/rambling thoughts on Beauty and the Beast.

First of all I give it 4.786250914/5 stars, saw it twice, would see again, and the Sharon Seal of Approval.

Disney promised us a live action remake of the much beloved 1991 animated classic Disney's Beauty and the Beast and boy did they deliver.

But if you wanted it to be a shot-for-shot, line-for-line, exactly, 100% the same movie, then you may be in for a surprise.

Consider this your SPOILER WARNING. I'll give those of you who have yet to see the film a moment to navigate away from this page.


Still there?

Bueller?

Alright, let's go.

All the major plot points were there, but the original movie's runtime was 84 minutes (less than an hour and a half), while modern movies tend to be closer to 2 hours; they had to add something to the film.

And add they did. They added backstory to the characters, they made the enchantress a bigger part of the story, they gave the Beast his own bittersweet song. And they added a touch of a different version of Beauty and the Beast.

They made the story more meaningful and nuanced. They made the Beast more worthy of Belle's love and they made Gaston more of a villain and they even gave Le Fou a conscience. I found myself feeling that Le Fou was not a fool in this telling at all. They changed the bookkeeper to be an academic priest who seems to appreciate and encourage Belle's intelligence while the rest of the town condemns it. They even connected the fates of the servants in the castle with the village people. They changed Maurice to be a heartbroken, overprotective, artist father.

The movie is a beautiful rendition of the animated classic, which I'm sure will become a classic in its own right.

It has the favorite standby songs, with some minor changes. For example, I really missed the sheep in "Belle" and Gaston's famous line "every last inch of me's covered with hair" in "Gaston." But they added a sweet song sung first by Maurice, "How Does a Moment Last Forever" which seems to be a song from the creators of the new movie, nodding to the anxiety of re-creating a well-loved movie, while also hinting at something more in the story. They also added a song for the servants in the castle where they pine after their former lives "Days in the Sun" where Belle begins to fall in love and hurt for the servants and wants to help them before she sees any humanity in the Beast. "Evermore" is the Beast's new solo, where he climbs up high in the tower as he watches Belle leave to rescue her father - sure she will never return, he sings "I'll fool myself, she'll walk right in And be with me for evermore." Even though I knew that Belle returns, I couldn't help but tear up.

That wasn't the first time I teared up either, when Belle and Beast are building a relationship, Beast shares a book the enchantress left him which allows him to travel anywhere in the world. Belle uses it to take them to the windmill in Paris where her family lived until her mother caught the plague and died - they had to leave here there to protect themselves. From then on, Maurice did his best to protect Belle.

So what did I not like about the movie?
I already mentioned that I missed the sheep and "every last inch of me's covered with hair" but there were a couple other minor things that bothered me about the movie. First, Belle wore shoes that looked unmistakably like Toms; surely they could have found her some more appropriate footwear? Second, I love Emma Watson, but something about her as Belle, just did not feel quite right to me. Finally, I had trouble determining when on earth this movie was supposed to take place. I think this movie should have occurred much after the plague, but I'm not sure.

By and large, I loved the movie. The animated film reigns supreme, but this film holds an honorable second place in my heart.

What were your thoughts on the film?

Happy End of March!
Sharon

April Optimism

For the past two or three years, I've been participating in NaPoWriMo and with April 1st peeking around the corner, I am excited to say that I will again be making an attempt at 30 poems in 30 days. I will be busy, as I often am in April. But I encourage you to write along with me and keep me accountable. If you've never heard of NaPoWriMo, I encourage you to check out this website, where I will be getting my prompts.


Also, because I am so excited about NaPoWriMo, I've decided to write a poem today! This won't count for my 30 poems in April because it isn't April (yet). Because I currently cannot come up with subject matter for a poem, I have used Robert Peake's prompt generator which you can find here.


My prompt was to incorporate as many of the following words as possible:

incense, distracted, signature, surprised, children's, argues, sticking, amused, pallid, poet's, bolts, repeating, simplest, il, shack.

I also had to:
include an unusual taste and refer to a famous poet.

It also includes an image for inspiration (which I did not use).

Here is my poem:

The smell of my chai tea, like incense, flooded my nose.
Distractedly, I signed the receipt.
I was surprised when the barista commented that I had a pretty signature;
Perhaps not many children took to their cursive lessons as I had.
My feet argued with the ground as I stepped,
A piece of gum sticking to my shoe, refusing to allow me to move.
The patrons of the coffee shop seemed amused
As I fought to remove the fum from the sole of my shoe.
I imagined the poet's pallid face among the crowd,
The cadence and repetition of The Raven came to mind,
My steps taking its rhythm for their own
As they carried me back to my cove.
Sometimes even the simplest things are difficult for me.



Poe has been on my mind quite a bit and I am going to do some research and use some of Poe's works for the inspiration for a project I have in mind.

See you soon for more poetry!

Sharon  

Rambling Thoughts on La La Land

*This is your one spoiler warning*

My friends and I just saw the movie La La Land. Literally, I just drove home from the theater and am putting my jumbled thoughts out into the world.

If you appreciate music, you will like this movie.
If you appreciate waltz and dancing and fun choreography (by none other than Mandy Moore - what?!), you will like this movie.
If you enjoy singing, you will like this movie.
If you enjoy the beginning part of a relationship, you will like this movie.
If you like happy endings, you may or may not like this movie.
If what I just said gives you pause, go see this movie anyway.
If you like piano, Emma Stone's big, beautiful eyes, and Ryan Gosling's je ne sais quoi, you will like this movie.

At the end of the movie, my friends and I watched the credits and listened to the beautiful music in silent awe. Our emotions had just been taken for a wild ride and we were taking a minute to process. It left me feeling a little raw and exposed. It resonated with me. It left us shocked.

La La Land did so well because I think it treats "La-la land" with a firm grip of reality. Having never been an aspiring actress or musician in Hollywood, I cannot say for sure, but I suspect it was accurate.

It showed the fears and pains and struggles of making it in Hollywood which, really, are the same as the struggles every one of us faces. And it treated them in an authentic way.

You followed the story of Mia and Sebastian as their lives intertwined, you fell in love with them, you sang with them, you danced with them. You routed for them and you invested in them. This was a couple that could make it work.

As someone once told me, "the beginning of any relationship is always fun." And we saw that, we were swept along with it. And then when they fought, we were a little shaken, but I think we thought Mia and Seb would make it through this.

But this movie also examines a difficult question: Is it possible to have both love and your dreams? The answer, a resounding no.

Mia puts on a one woman show which is underattended and Seb, Seb fails to make it on time. By the time he gets there, the show is over, Mia is leaving, stricken that no one came, that those who did had negative comments, and possibly most troubling to her that Seb wasn't there.

She leaves town, Seb is given the opportunity to win her back with a romantic gesture that involves an audition that might be Mia's big break. He takes her to the audition and afterward, Mia asks Seb, "where are we?" I think all relationships face this question at some point or another and the answer can make or break the relationship. Seb tells her that they will just have to wait and see; they tell each other that they will always love each other, and evidently, Mia does get the gig.

Ultimately, we find out that they both have achieved their respective dreams. And I think it was Mia almost walking out on her dream that shook Seb up and made him go grab his with both hands. Seeing someone you love give up or almost give up on their dream does that to you.

It is a moving movie because it treats life with honesty. We are swept away in the euphoria of a budding romance. We route for the characters, their relationship, and their dreams. But then it strips that away, it asks what we will do when things are not working out how we wanted them to. It shakes us awake and asks us what we will give up for our dream.

What will the cost of achieving our dream be? Will it be the love of our life? Or will being with the love of our live cause us to give up our dream?

Life doesn't have to be that stark, but it often is. And maybe, they weren't the love of each other's lives. It was obvious that Mia's dream was not to be married, but to be an actress and she got that. Seb wanted a club and he got that.

But I think the painful thing is that Seb may not have moved on even though Mia has. He names the club what Mia suggested and when he sees her there in the heartbreaking final scene of the movie, he plays their song.

He told her he would always love her and he meant it.

But maybe he loves her because she encouraged him to go after his dream. He saw her walking out on hers and forced her not to so then he had to do the same.

As we were leaving the theater, one of my friends said, "I can't even be happy about their success because they didn't end up together. She's not with the love of her life."

Mia's life was about acting; Seb's was about opening an amazing jazz club. They both inspired each other to go out and get their dreams. Isn't that all anyone can ask for?

This movie is about priorities, perception, dreams, fears, struggles. And it does have a happy ending, if not the one we so often expect. But neither does life.

In a way, this movie reminds me of Pygmalion. When he originally wrote the play, George Bernard Shaw discovered that people thought Eliza should end up with Prof. Higgins; this bothered him so much that he wrote an epilogue in which Eliza is married to Freddy. Henry Higgins was never the right man for Eliza to marry. He helped her to rise above her position and then they moved on from one another. Mia and Seb both helped each other rise from their position and achieve their dream. Maybe they were not the right person for the other to marry. But they were the person the other needed at that time in their life.

I know I'm rambling, but I'm trying to make sense of the way this movie shook up my insides. If nothing more, we should remember that happy endings don't always look the same. Emma Stone is my spirit animal, I want her wardrobe from this movie, and I want the soundtrack to the movie as well; Ryan Gosling is, as ever, a stud.


Go see the movie and let me know what you thought.

May the music stay with you,
Sharon