I haven’t seen a movie that made me cry since I watched The Boy in the Striped Pajamas a few years ago. Something about those Holocaust movies gets me every time. I think it’s the human rights activist in me that gets a punch in the stomach watching the dehumanization and horrible treatment.
So I cry.
I’ll preface the statement to come by saying that I am not a crier. Let me reiterate that point: I am not a crier. I only cry like once every two months, and I have to be alone and either really angry or really depressed. And really hormonal. BUT, while watching The Help with my family yesterday, I almost cried 5 times. (Yes, I kept track.) Then, when Skeeter’s mother told her – after reading her book – that she had never been more proud of her, I actually lost it. The moment was so sweet, so justifying. The music sang triumph. Finally, Skeeter was good enough for the mother who just wanted her to get a man, and she hadn’t been trying to be good enough. She had been living up to her convictions and doing hard things that required courage.
People should make more movies like that and fewer about unrealistic, explicit love affairs between successful people who really wouldn’t fit each other at all in real life. This is my official petition for people to make more movies about things that matter, because I have walked away from that movie thinking. Not laughing or talking about how cute the main character was, but thinking. Thinking about how Skeeter’s courageous, convicted, unselfish character reminds me of what I want to be. It was inspirational without a bit of cheesiness. It wasn’t sappy. I went through the whole movie without wanting to slap any character for saying something dumb.
Totally worth the $10.50 my parents had to pay per ticket since it was a Friday night.
Thanks, Mom and Daddy.
I woke up at 6:45 this morning for one reason:
That’s right, folks. I went to the one and only Minnesota State Fair today and walked around the crowded streets of the fairgrounds for one purpose: fried food.
And we found it all right. As any Minnesotan knows, the Fair is the king of fried things on a stick: candy bars, pickles, sirloin steak, Twinkies, pizza. And then they have a ton of fried things that are not on a stick: deep fried apple pie with cinnamon ice cream (Brooke and I split that one), french fries, mini donuts (do you know how much sugar is on those things?? It’s heavenly!), cheese curds and all other things fried and wonderful. I definitely ate more than I should have and spent far too much money on things that I didn’t need nutritionally.
It’s a social thing, okay? The Fair connects us as Minnesotans, as we share our love for fried food, things on a stick, our political candidates, our radio stations, and the great state that we inhabit.
Then we go home and even though the guilt of what we’ve eaten has hit us, it took us a while to get out to our car and ride the free bus to the parking lot, and another half hour to get home from there… so we’re hungry again. But this time the contents of the fruit drawer are hauled out, and veggies and dip replace grease and more grease and sugar and fat. And after refueling, the hour at which we awoke hits us, and a good nap is in order.
And after that, my calendar was asking to be updated, so I did that.