Not so different

Guess I'm going to a workshop afterall.  Used two of my movie vouchers yesterday, and then went to a solo performance in Fremont, so didn't end up getting much done around the house.  Almost skipped the solo show because my stomach hurt so bad and all I wanted to do was crawl up into a fetal position somewhere.  I did that when I got home.  Mostly doesn't hurt now.

That show was José Amador´s "El Hijo Prodigo," which was based around a trip he took back to Puerto Rico, which then brought in elements of life in Puerto Rico, family, and childhood stories/memories.  It had played at a solo/fringe festival earlier and I hadn't been able to see it.  I'm interested in Puerto Rican life (which I've mentioned before, my grandmother was from Puerto Rico.)  Much of what he talked about, I'd heard bits and pieces of before (not his story, but of life in general), still, I found it helpful to hear again, to explain things, to understand where I came from, if that makes sense...neither of my parents talk much of family history, but it's under the surface permeating everything.  Again, like with Sonia Sotomayor's story of her parents, the telling of his stories are similar, and similar to my grandma's, as well.  I said something to him about it after, and then started crying while walking down the street, it's the pain that lives in the blood.  It drove people to want something better, it drives people still.  I appreciate the honesty of the story.

The two movies I saw were "Paris, of the North," an Icelandic film, and "Flowers," a Basque film (the latter of which I thought was Hungarian for some reason, probably because I had looked at a bunch of movie descriptions before choosing one, and was surprised by how many Spanish-speaking people were in the audience, initially.  The film was in Euskara.)  They both had slow story telling.  Both portrayed non-sugarcoated people.  Both dealt with the messiness of life, the non-resolution, non-idealistic outcomes, though the Basque film had a little more closure, but there weren't any answers.  I liked all three performances for the same reason: there is no perfect life.  There is no shiny outcome.  Everyone is struggling, and in spite of the varnish we see and read about everyday, how everyone is more perfect than you and you just aren't trying hard enough:  you are actually alright.

The older I get, the more I feel like I missed something, forgot something.  Got left behind.  It didn't bother me as much in my 20's.  But now, the bombardment of messages of who you are supposed to be, and what you were supposed to be by some magical age ("20 under 25 to watch!" and the like), and even I know these articles and headlines ("30 things everyone should know/have done by 30!) are fluff, they get to me, the constancy of them wears at me, makes me feel like I haven't done anything with my life.  Makes me tired.  (I know why I made the choices I did.  They felt necessary at the time.)

Anyway, these three shows made me feel better.  Not because they make me feel like I'm better or worse than anyone else, but precisely, because they don't.  Because this is life.  And when we are alone, with no one to impress, we are here, deep in the muck of it.