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Went to the Mill Valley Film Festival tonight.
There is so much to say, and there are so few words to say it with.
Director John Hillcoat was there and spoke briefly before the showing. What a lovely man. So respectful of Cormac McCarthy's story, and the way it came to him. Courteous to the actors in the way he spoke of them. Grateful for being able to work in this medium of film, of storytelling. Appreciative that MVVF found a way to have the film as part of its opening night films. Thankful that we were all there for a 9:40pm screening.
His voice, when he spoke about Kodi- genuine respect, genuine care, genuine love.
The film: I'll talk more about it after its gone into as wide a release as it's going to. This, I'll say: I have never seen a more honest love story between parent and child. I've never seen a better filmic telling of a written tale. I've never seen so grim and sad a background bring to life the small things and large which make us humane, make us human. I've not felt this kind of hope in years.
It's technically perfect, from what I can tell. The acting is - it's remarkable. Everything I knew about them from the book, is in the film. The directing, the editing, the cinematography, costuming, set design and decoration, location scouting- to the last detail, perfect.
I don't expect it to win awards. It's --- people are scared of this world, this post-something world where it's down to who you brought with you inside yourself from before, and who you let yourself become, after, and what you leave of yourself with others. It is frightening to look at- but for me, it's more frightening not to look.
I want to be one of the good guys. I want to die carrying the fire.
I'm so very, very glad I saw this movie. I'll never see anything in my life the same way again.
It will always, always look better now, than it did before this evening.
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five more weeks of uni.
as much as i'm enjoying these classes- and i am, i really am- i'll be SO glad not to be obligated outside the house 7 days a week. i really really like being home.
that said, i'm getting itchy feet again. my spring is going to be devoted to getting my finances and my body in even better shape. i've been working and saving, and i'm proud of what i've accomplished, but now come my student loans to pay off and that's going to be a change. also, i've been eating MUCH better than i have in years and years (and i was eating pretty ok, the last 3-4 years) but it's time to get regular exercise, find out what's going on with this hip, and work on being fit and having decent stamina by my 60th birthday (god, am i going to be 60 in 2011? hand me that calendar, will you? *stares*).
i ALSO have a bunch of non-uni reading to do, a rather large storage of useful-but-no-longer-necessary-to-me things to go through and pass on (yes! freecycle.org) and a garden to get going on.
i ran into one of my favorite instructors from the nursing program today. it seems i will have the record of taking the longest- maybe second-longest -length of time to graduate from the RN-to-BSN program at my uni of any student in its history to date. she said today she REALLY wants me to invite her to my graduation. i've been on the fence about walking graduation, but something she said gives me the confidence to do it.
funny, how the right word from someone i respect and know cares about how i do can change everything.
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W4xfMisqab8
11/6/2008
WASHINGTON – The following is an op-ed from Human Rights Campaign President Joe Solmonese. This editorial is intended as free use and can be quoted or published.
You can't take this away from me: Proposition 8 broke our hearts, but it did not end our fight.
Like many in our movement, I found myself in Southern California last weekend. There, I had the opportunity to speak with a man who said that Proposition 8 completely changed the way he saw his own neighborhood. Every "Yes on 8" sign was a slap. For this man, for me, for the 18,000 couples who married in California, to LGBT people and the people who love us, its passage was worse than a slap in the face. It was nothing short of heartbreaking.
But it is not the end. Fifty-two percent of the voters of California voted to deny us our equality on Tuesday, but they did not vote our families or the power of our love out of existence; they did not vote us away.
As free and equal human beings, we were born with the right to equal families. The courts did not give us this right—they simply recognized it. And although California has ceased to grant us marriage licenses, our rights are not subject to anyone's approval. We will keep fighting for them. They are as real and as enduring as the love that moves us to form families in the first place. There are many roads to marriage equality, and no single roadblock will prevent us from ultimately getting there.
And yet there is no denying, as we pick ourselves up after losing this most recent, hard-fought battle, that we've been injured, many of us by neighbors who claim to respect us. We see them in the supermarkets, on the sidewalk, and think "how could you?"
By the same token, we know that we are moving in the right direction. In 2000, California voters passed Proposition 22 by a margin of 61.4% to 38.6%. On Tuesday, fully 48% of Californians rejected Proposition 8. It wasn't enough, but it was a massive shift. Nationally, although two other anti-marriage ballot measures won, Connecticut defeated an effort to hold a constitutional convention ending marriage, New York's state legislature gained the seats necessary to consider a marriage law, and FMA architect Marilyn Musgrave lost her seat in Congress. We also elected a president who supports protecting the entire community from discrimination and who opposes discriminatory amendments.
Yet on Proposition 8 we lost at the ballot box, and I think that says something about this middle place where we find ourselves at this moment. In 2003, twelve states still had sodomy laws on the books, and only one state had civil unions. Four years ago, marriage was used to rile up a right-wing base, and we were branded as a bigger threat than terrorism. In 2008, most people know that we are not a threat. Proposition 8 did not result from a popular groundswell of opposition to our rights, but was the work of a small core of people who fought to get it on the ballot. The anti-LGBT message didn't rally people to the polls, but unfortunately when people got to the polls, too many of them had no problem with hurting us. Faced with an economy in turmoil and two wars, most Californians didn't choose the culture war. But faced with the question—brought to them by a small cadre of anti-LGBT hardliners – of whether our families should be treated differently from theirs, too many said yes.
But even before we do the hard work of deconstructing this campaign and readying for the future, it's clear to me that our continuing mandate is to show our neighbors who we are.
Justice Lewis Powell was the swing vote in Bowers, the case that upheld Georgia's sodomy law and that was reversed by Lawrence v. Texas five years ago. When Bowers was pending, Powell told one of his clerks "I don't believe I've ever met a homosexual." Ironically, that clerk was gay, and had never come out to the Justice. A decade later, Powell admitted his vote to uphold Georgia's sodomy law was a mistake.
Everything we've learned points to one simple fact: people who know us are more likely to support our equality.
In recent years, I've been delivering this positive message: tell your story. Share who you are. And in fact, as our families become more familiar, support for us increases. But make no mistake: I do not think we have to audition for equality. Rather, I believe that each and every one of us who has been hurt by this hateful ballot measure, and each and every one of us who is still fighting to be equal, has to confront the neighbors who hurt us. We have to say to the man with the Yes on 8 sign—you disrespected my humanity, and I am not giving you a pass. I am not giving you a pass for explaining that you tolerate me, while at the same time denying that my family has a right to exist. I do not give you permission to say you have me as a "gay friend" when you cast a vote against my family, and my rights.
Wherever you are, tell a neighbor what the California Supreme Court so wisely affirmed: that you are equal, you are human, and that being denied equality harms you materially. Although I, like our whole community, am shaken by Prop 8's passage, I am not yet ready to believe that anyone who knows us as human beings and understands what is at stake would consciously vote to harm us.
This is not over. In California, our legal rights have been lost, but our human rights endure, and we will continue to fight for them.
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Good night at work. Girl happy- her baby nephew's birthday today, she loves being Auntie and she loves birthdays. I had lovely company overnight online- thank you, pirates!- even though the wireless was still a bit iffy.
Left work intending to pick blueberries but it was already harkening 'too hot and too bright'- not a good combination when one's ultimate goal is to sleep during the day. So I stopped at the market- not 'my' market, but a big one- for a few supplies.
And got hit out of left field by such frustration with the whole 'hugeness' of modern industrialized food. Took me 20 damn minutes to find:
-- a 'bread item' that wasn't a pound-and-a-half in one package AND wasn't processed up the yin-yang
-- a block of feta cheese. Not crumbled, not spiced or herbed or some such. Just a block of plain feta cheese.
-- a jar of kalamata olives under 12 oz, without sugar (sugar? in olives) and added salt.
I came out of there so strongly possessed of the urge to drink. That's not happened in that way for years- I've been sober (with the exception of a sip of rum for one very special occasion) for 7+ years- but by fucking god, the urge to go right back in and get a bottle was so damn strong.
Instead I came home, made myself a tray of pita bread, olives, feta, watercress, and sliced apple, came upstairs, got in bed, got online, and got some support and lovin'.
And the urge to drink passed, my breakfast was delicious, and the friends saved my life.
Can't do better than that, really.
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posted in theysaid by ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) presentpossible
Are you fleeing from Love because of a single humiliation?
What do you know of Love except the name?
Love has a hundred forms of pride and disdain,
and is gained by a hundred means of persuasion.
Since Love is loyal, it purchases one who is loyal:
it has no interest in a disloyal companion.
The human being resembles a tree; its root is a covenant with God:
that root must be cherished with all one's might.
A weak covenant is a rotten root, without grace or fruit.
Though the boughs and leaves of the date palm are green,
greenness brings no benefit if the root is corrupt.
If a branch is without green leaves, yet has a good root,
a hundred leaves will put forth their hands in the end.
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in honor of the end of winter
Carole King/It's Too Late
and the coming of spring
I'll be taking some time to do a little self-care: concentrate on uni, swim/walk/garden, and think.
Still be around, cleaning up lists. If you'd like me to let you off my fl, let me know, or use 'defriend'- it's always defriending amnesty day.
[I first heard this song in 1971, not long after my oldest son was born. I knew as soon as I listened to it that for me, it would always be about knowing that my marriage wouldn't last. It was 1981 before the divorce was final, but the end began that day in the fog and chill of Sebastopol, dancing in the living room and crying for something that hadn't happened, and was inevitable.]
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