Why I do what I do, why I am who I am.
Nov. 14th, 2020 03:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
noblwishTMW... you're studying for a Biology test and Pandora is playing John Williams, because it's both calming and uplifting and it helps you focus, and you hear something familiar and beautiful, definitely from the "Star Wars" universe, and look up to see what it is, and you read that it's Luke & Leia's theme from "Return of the Jedi," and you burst into tears.
I've always said that ROTJ was the movie that made me fall in love with filmmaking. I thought I wanted to be an actress, and I still love acting, and I still think I'm good at it, but I was never good enough, or maybe just not confident enough, to break out of the expectation of being Kate-Moss-thin so I could move beyond Community Theater, so I transitioned to being a film producer so I could help change that expectation. But that's beside the point... the point is, I saw ROTJ nine times in the theater, and came away from the experience with a new life goal. A passion. An obsession. A motivation that has guided almost every decision I've made, since.
Why did I love that movie so much? I never asked myself that question before, and really didn't need to now, because listening to that music, remembering that scene and gauging my sudden reaction to that memory, answered it for me. I loved that movie because it was not only a story of triumph, but of sibling affection. Discovering that Luke and Leia were twins just made everything about the assumed love triangle fit so perfectly! Luke and Han didn't need to be rivals. They could both love Leia without question or shame or suspicion, just in different ways.
The closeness and connection between them, which we first saw in "The Empire Strikes Back," suddenly made sense and reminded me of my own sibling connection, which had so recently been... maybe not severed, but severely interrupted. The triumph at the end of the film was like a balm on what I perceived as my own catastrophic failure. To borrow a term from another universe, it was my Kobayashi Maru. Yeah, I just mixed Star Wars and Star Trek metaphors... SUE ME!
All of this came to me in an instant, as epiphanies often do, along with the realization that it was my love for my brother, Clay, and my grief over his death that shot me like a rocket in the direction my life has taken since. It's because of him that I am who and where I am today. Clay guided me to my destiny, whether by happenstance or by design -- that is up for interpretation. But it's my continuing love of Clay that moves me to create, to write, to encourage creativity in others. I feel it when I hear beautiful music, much like the symphonies that were part of his neurological rehabilitation. I feel it when I read wonderous stories or see movies celebrating survival or incredible accomplishments or unconditional, endless love between anyone, be they family or friends or lovers.
Clay is the reason I do everything, and as much as his absence still pains me, I don't know that I'd be half the person I am without that loss. I'd give anything to have him back, but I'm also grateful for the sacrifice he made for me to be me.
I've always said that ROTJ was the movie that made me fall in love with filmmaking. I thought I wanted to be an actress, and I still love acting, and I still think I'm good at it, but I was never good enough, or maybe just not confident enough, to break out of the expectation of being Kate-Moss-thin so I could move beyond Community Theater, so I transitioned to being a film producer so I could help change that expectation. But that's beside the point... the point is, I saw ROTJ nine times in the theater, and came away from the experience with a new life goal. A passion. An obsession. A motivation that has guided almost every decision I've made, since.
Why did I love that movie so much? I never asked myself that question before, and really didn't need to now, because listening to that music, remembering that scene and gauging my sudden reaction to that memory, answered it for me. I loved that movie because it was not only a story of triumph, but of sibling affection. Discovering that Luke and Leia were twins just made everything about the assumed love triangle fit so perfectly! Luke and Han didn't need to be rivals. They could both love Leia without question or shame or suspicion, just in different ways.
The closeness and connection between them, which we first saw in "The Empire Strikes Back," suddenly made sense and reminded me of my own sibling connection, which had so recently been... maybe not severed, but severely interrupted. The triumph at the end of the film was like a balm on what I perceived as my own catastrophic failure. To borrow a term from another universe, it was my Kobayashi Maru. Yeah, I just mixed Star Wars and Star Trek metaphors... SUE ME!
All of this came to me in an instant, as epiphanies often do, along with the realization that it was my love for my brother, Clay, and my grief over his death that shot me like a rocket in the direction my life has taken since. It's because of him that I am who and where I am today. Clay guided me to my destiny, whether by happenstance or by design -- that is up for interpretation. But it's my continuing love of Clay that moves me to create, to write, to encourage creativity in others. I feel it when I hear beautiful music, much like the symphonies that were part of his neurological rehabilitation. I feel it when I read wonderous stories or see movies celebrating survival or incredible accomplishments or unconditional, endless love between anyone, be they family or friends or lovers.
Clay is the reason I do everything, and as much as his absence still pains me, I don't know that I'd be half the person I am without that loss. I'd give anything to have him back, but I'm also grateful for the sacrifice he made for me to be me.