Pretend to be Normal

Today I revisited Little Miss Sunshine for about the 4th time in the last few years. I like this film more and more each time I watch it. I think that's the way a film should be. Like a fine wine. Or something like that...

Abigail Breslin as Olive Hoover is the most heart-of-gold character you could ever hope to meet in a story. The fact that she is surrounded by her family of never-ending faults only makes her shine that much more brightly as the audience watches the effect she inadvertently has on each of them. We hate Greg Kinnear as Olive's self-motivated father Richard (or Dick... that's got to be intentional), especially when he tells Olive that Miss America doesn't eat ice cream. Pretty much every matriarch in the world sympathizes with the always lovely Toni Collette as Olive's mother Sheryl. And then there's Paul Dano as Dwayne, Steve Carrell as Frank, and Alan Arkin in his Academy Award-winning turn as Grandpa. These three gentlemen round out the definition of dysfunctional for the Hooper family and we love to watch them every time they have to push that VW bus...

It never ceases to amaze me how absolutely heart-breaking Paul Dano's color blind scene is. I cried this time around. I think I have before, but this time it felt really heavy. Particularly soul-crushing. Maybe it's because before this viewing, I never felt like I had a dream worth working for like Dwayne. I couldn't get behind what it meant for him to have that realization. But I feel like I do now. I have an easily crushed dream that inspires me. Maybe not to the point of a vow of silence, but in different ways.

My other favorite scene of the film also involves Dano's Dwayne. His conversation with Carrell's Frank on the dock is worth every well-planned moment of their interactions throughout the film. It's easier to pull a line of dialog than to explain:

Dwayne: "You know what? Fuck beauty contests. Life is one fucking beauty contest after another. School, then college, then work... Fuck that. And fuck the Air Force Academy. If I want to fly, I'll find a way to fly. You do what you love, and fuck the rest."

Then their family makes royal asses of themselves in front of a shallow and judgmental group of people. And it is beautiful.

Make 'em Laugh

I graduated.

Yes. It happened. I wrote an awfully long thesis on macrocyclic ligands and barely passed my linear algebra class. But those were only the toughest aspects of the last month of my time at Furman academically. There were plenty of other hurdles that I leaped. The list of "lasts" seemed never-ending: From big things like my last performance on Furman Theatre's stage & my last show as a member of Improv!able Cause to every-student type things like my last day of class & my last exam to seemingly simple things like the last time I'll eat in the DH & the last time I'll check my on campus mail. I barely made it off of the stage before I began to cry after the last time I delivered my monologue "French Fries" during Talking With... The finality of it had really hit me. But what made it hit so hard?

I loved working with Furman Theatre. That company (and yes, especially my senior year, it was a company) was so much fun to work with. We made some great theatre and some not as great theatre, but I always had an amazing time and learned so much no matter what. I think the gravity of not being able to share my joy with other people in such a palpable, concrete, and consistant way was something that really hit me as I left the stage that night. I had grown to thrive on making people laugh and making people think. I must continue doing that. It is where my passion lies. I know that now thanks to Furman Theatre.

A little less than an hour after I walked across the stage to shake hands with Dr. Shi and recieve my diploma (after he told me he loved my red hair in an attempt to personalize what he said to each student) after bidding my family adieu until the next morning, I was jumping around in the football stadium saying ridiculous things in different voices that had the people around me laughing. I wasn't trying to be the comedic relief, but in my own state of not being able to fully comprehend and take in what had just occured I went into this inadvertent make-everyone-else-more-comfortable-because- they-don't-know-what-to-do-either mode. It continued through going back to my apartment for a toast and some snacks with my roommates and their families. At that point the parents were cracking up, too.

After a sad hiatus of saying some last goodbyes and experiencing my last night at Furman, the mood returned the next afternoon when I was moving out. I even wore a hard hat for the entirety of packing. At some point that afternoon, one of my best comedic partners and biggest fans, Patty (my roommate Jacqui's crazy mother), stopped me in our hallway to tell me she was about to get very philosophical.

"Do you see this joy we're sharing? You and I? This laugher? These jokes?" she asked.
"Sure I do, Patty. I love it."
"You have to keep doing this. You have to keep sharing this joy. You go up to Chicago or wherever and keep sharing this joy with people. Because some people don't have this. Give it to them."
"You got it. I'll do it."

No one had ever really put it to me like that before. I want to share my joy. I want to bring that relief to people. Despite some tears and struggle with being separated from my friends who I'd gotten so used to seeing every day, I have spent the last few days coping and cheering myself by watching TV comedies (Modern Family, SNL, Parks and Recreation, 30 Rock etc.) It seems simple and silly, but that's what I want. Maybe not through a TV show, but somehow. I want to share my joy.