Inanimate Intimacy

This past weekend we got a break from the severe cold (aka Artic Vortex!) and I happily catapulted my sheepskin-swathed self out for dinner and a movie.  It was a hugely encouraging experience from the get-go, as there were quite a few new movies to choose from – well, maybe not so “new” as I have been holed up since before the holiday season – so let’s rephrase that as “new to me!”  My girlfriend and I settled on the film, “She” – starring Amy Adams and Joaquin Phoenix; it is about a nerdy guy who falls in love with his OS named Samantha.

The movie was really fantastic on many levels – it had the superficial appeal of many films (great actors, quirky humour, etc.), but this was greatly downplayed in favour of thought-provoking content.  What has me wanting to see this film again is its cleverly written script and haunting, complex themes those words define. Unlike most films that hit mainstream theatres, “She” has the meat of a stage performance.  Highly successful in creating a realistic-futuristic experience using subtly crafted visual layers of alienation, the film treads a fine line between the immediate and what lies ahead. 

Take for example the pasty-faced urbanites smiling and talking not to each other, but to their respective customized OS – I could see a lot of myself and people I know in those faces and behaviours! Yes, scary but true – even as I write this, I know I will be posting it to a blog and sharing it on a number of social media platforms, and I am seriously questioning the value and reasoning behind all of that. A word that comes to mind is “posturing” – a sort of distanced posturing versus real connection and communication. Thus I reconsider the real world impact and personal context of my blog forays: a virtual smattering of self, volleyed off into the uncertainty of an ever-expanding cyber-surreality for a purpose that is half crap-shoot science and half boredom-loneliness-ego-driven-whatever-ness.

Compelling in its awkwardness, frustrating with its deliberate lack of videographic grandeur, relatable in its human brokenness, and memorable for the poetic wisdom woven throughout like a welcome breeze, “She” is more like something you expect to see screened at Sundance.  Most of all, the film has served as a reality check for this writer, this woman, this tech lover – it makes me want to touch, taste, feel , see more of the three-dimensional, flawed and fabulous real world and it puts all of this into harsh relativity.  Over and out.

The Significance of SHE

I consider myself very fortunate to have had a loving Mother. I think of all of the little things she did for me as a kid, and how she continues to support me as an adult.

I have six siblings, so Mom was always "way beyond busy" keeping us all fed, watered and clothed - I get freaked out when I realize now that this ate up the majority of her waking hours, seven days a week, 365 days a year from the age of 23 until her late 40s.

So, don't ever underestimate the fortitude and strength of a woman, or a mother - 'nuff said! Despite a heavy schedule of parental obligation, my Mom still made time for extracurricular interests. She participated in women's groups, committees, sports and so on -- she also sang in the church choir, taught Sunday school, and led the Junior Choir for many of my childhood years. I remember how she would serve us all at mealtimes and would sometimes be eating standing up! I used to like it when she would finally sit down after dinner and she'd ask me to scratch her back or brush her hair - funny, how this family rituals evolve! We'd joke about grooming each other like monkeys...

All of the little details mean so much more when added up over time - Mom paid attention and took care of all of the little details. These are the things that make life special; both as a kid and as an adult - the sprinkles on the ice cream sundae. These are also the things that give us hope on a less-than perfect day and inspire personal creativity.

I recall how Mom would let us each pick what kind of birthday cake we wanted (home-baked, of course), and we would be "consulted" on the colour of the icing. Chiffon cakes were the trend in the 70s, so it was lemon chiffon, chocolate chiffon, poppy seed chiffon, orange chiffon, and so on... I remember choosing blue icing one time, and thinking..."Will she really make it BLUE?" (Yes, she did, and it was a luscious, improbable, kid-pleasing turquoise blue!).

I also got to pick my bedroom paint, wall paper and bedding at about age 8 or 9 - I chose some kinda crazy wall paper with these bobble-headed wedding party figures on it, and she thought that was just fine! (I LOVE my Momma!!!)

As an adult, there was a time when I left a horribly abusive work situation at great financial risk - I was sick with worry, having depleted my meager savings; I was wondering how I would feed my kids and desperately looking for work. I couldn't talk about it to anyone, and was beating myself up about my choices - in particular, for sticking it out at this particular sales position.

I hadn't said anything to anyone, I was so ashamed and felt like a total failure. Then, Mom showed up one evening with several bags of groceries: fruit, vegetables, milk, eggs, bread and other wonderful things, including treats for my little girls: it was like a living angel had heard my prayer and come to my door.

Thanks to my Mother, I lost my cloak of despair and was able to move on to a much better, salaried position in a matter of days. To this day, even when I am broke and nothing seems to be going right, I never feel poor and I never hesitate to give and to share what I have.