BreukelenAnima
Virgin
- Joined
- Feb 11, 2024
- Posts
- 199
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I don't think I've ever seen that movie.Day 6: A movie you have seen more than any other.
I know what Hell is like, thanks to a movie. Sort of.
To say my relationship with my father stunk would be an exaggeration. We would have had to have had a relationship for that to happen. I won't go too much into the backstory, but he took off when I was six, lived about ten miles away with his new wife, who had been his mistress, and I never set eyes on him after the age of eight. (At eight, in family court, I told the judge he was a "cheap jackass." I still don't regret that.) We communicated a bit, and he sent birthday cards with a bit of money in them and the like, but never spent any time with me or my siblings. And that went fine, until his mother died.
My maternal grandmother was the only member of his family who liked me. My siblings, both his biological children, blond haired and blue-eyed, they tolerated. Me? Adopted, dark haired, dark eyed? Not so much. But Oma was delightful, and became my pen-pal -- we never stopped writing to each other until about a month before she died. So I packed up and went to her funeral in Minneapolis, and fuck the rest of her family. I loved her and wanted to say goodbye. While I was there, I was quiet and respectful, in her honor. It helped that my father couldn't make it. But the family, mostly first-generation German immigrants, refused to speak English around me, not knowing I took two years of German in college. They spent the whole time, the better part of a week, talking shit about me with me right there, holding a blank look on my face. My choice was to put up with that, or hang around the hotel. The hotel's entertainment system was on the fritz, and only had one movie on rotation, 24-hours a day, the whole time I was there. (It could still be playing today.) So, given the choice between my family and a Drew Berrimore/Hugh Grant rom-com on infinite repeat, I chose the latter. Unlike my family, I didn't hate it. But...so many times...
Sartre was right: Hell is other people. And also a fucked up entertainment system in a crappy hotel. He left that part out, but it was implied.
"Music and Lyrics."
Oh, the highlight of my trip? Saying heartfelt goodbye to everyone after the last memorial in my best college German.
I can probably act it out with small puppets...I don't think I've ever seen that movie.
This I would pay to see.I can probably act it out with small puppets...
This I would pay to see.
Being the "black sheep" amongst a toxic family is a big compliment even when it doesn't feel that way.Day 6: A movie you have seen more than any other.
I know what Hell is like, thanks to a movie. Sort of.
To say my relationship with my father stunk would be an exaggeration. We would have had to have had a relationship for that to happen. I won't go too much into the backstory, but he took off when I was six, lived about ten miles away with his new wife, who had been his mistress, and I never set eyes on him after the age of eight. (At eight, in family court, I told the judge he was a "cheap jackass." I still don't regret that.) We communicated a bit, and he sent birthday cards with a bit of money in them and the like, but never spent any time with me or my siblings. And that went fine, until his mother died.
My maternal grandmother was the only member of his family who liked me. My siblings, both his biological children, blond haired and blue-eyed, they tolerated. Me? Adopted, dark haired, dark eyed? Not so much. But Oma was delightful, and became my pen-pal -- we never stopped writing to each other until about a month before she died. So I packed up and went to her funeral in Minneapolis, and fuck the rest of her family. I loved her and wanted to say goodbye. While I was there, I was quiet and respectful, in her honor. It helped that my father couldn't make it. But the family, mostly first-generation German immigrants, refused to speak English around me, not knowing I took two years of German in college. They spent the whole time, the better part of a week, talking shit about me with me right there, holding a blank look on my face. My choice was to put up with that, or hang around the hotel. The hotel's entertainment system was on the fritz, and only had one movie on rotation, 24-hours a day, the whole time I was there. (It could still be playing today.) So, given the choice between my family and a Drew Berrimore/Hugh Grant rom-com on infinite repeat, I chose the latter. Unlike my family, I didn't hate it. But...so many times...
Sartre was right: Hell is other people. And also a fucked up entertainment system in a crappy hotel. He left that part out, but it was implied.
Music and Lyrics.
Oh, the highlight of my trip? Saying heartfelt goodbye to everyone after the last memorial in my best college German.
Good choiceDay 6: A movie you've seen more times than any other
Wouldn't it be nice if your apps could put a counter on movies so you could see how many times you've watched them?
I've watched this movie so many times I can quote lines from it which is saying a lot because I don't memorize lines from films very easily.
Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (1971)
I have never seen it. I loved the short story, and I wasn't avoiding it, I just never did. And now I have been told for decades it is the greatest film ever, I don't want to because it can't stand up to that. So I will accept it is amazing, but I probably won't ever see it.Day 6: A movie you've seen more times than any other
This used to be on cable every night. If we are including partial viewings, it’s definitely this
I’m willing to spoiler a 30 year old movie