connecting with "life itself"

i saw "life itself" last night. it was on my "must-see eventually" list as soon as i heard it was being released, but i missed it in theaters during its first wave. i could've rented it via on demand or on amazon, but i didn't for some reason.

when i found out "life itself" was playing at the siskel film center, some part of me knew that there's where i needed to go for this. thankfully my schedule wasn't super-crazy this week and therefore i could take myself on this journey.

more than once during the movie, i reminded myself that i was watching a film about roger ebert at the gene siskel film center. i felt like such a CHICAGOAN in those moments. i can't really pinpoint why. i mean, it's no secret that i have lived in and loved this city for what feels like forever, suburban sojourns notwithstanding. maybe my subconscious was having a particular 9/11 remembrance and without my realizing it, i was having a stronger attachment than usual to this city. 

i am attempting to write this w/o spoilers for those of you who haven't seen the movie and/or read ebert's memoir, but this piece kinda gets at what i'm trying to share: gene siskel's widow was talking about the tempestuous relationship siskel and ebert had. at one point, gene said of roger, "he's an asshole, but he's my asshole." i laughed through my tears on that one b/c that's how i feel about, well, a lot of you. (i use the term "asshole" with nothing but love and affection, obviously.) 

i think that's what struck me both in roger's book and in this film - that throughout his life, he wanted to connect with people. not necessarily people he agreed with, mind you, but people who meant something to him. maybe it's b/c he was an only child and i'm sure any psychologist worth their proverbial salt would say that ebert was creating a family of his own. (i am not a psychologist, nor do i play one on tv, so please don't accept this diagnosis as scientific fact.)

that resonates with me, as most readers of this blog have probably surmised throughout the years. the desire…no, strike that - the need, really, to develop and maintain connections, however tenuous. not to be popular, b/c clearly i am bereft of fucks to give about being popular, but to know that there's a circle, however big or small, of people you give a shit about and who, hopefully, give a shit about you.

seeing roger with chaz was on a completely different level of connection, though. i was digging through my twitter archive looking for things i'd written in response to roger's death last year. a lot of what i managed to say through my blubbering focused on chaz and roger. i may live to see 100 and i'm not convinced i'll see another relationship like the one they chose to share with us.

building and maintaining connections. it's not easy and yet roger and chaz seemed to work so well together that you'd forget that there was actual work involved. there were a couple of times in the film where you just knew chaz was nearing the end of her patience while roger was hospitalized, but then you'd catch them giving each other looks like "ok, fine, i'll stay, but only b/c it's you." that's a helluva connection.

and then (spoiler alert for those who haven't seen the movie) chaz talks about how, at the very end, she and some other loved ones were with roger and they were playing dave brubeck's music and everyone was holding hands and she found herself peaceful enough to be able to let roger go. that's another part of having connections, isn't it? knowing when it's time to sever a connection, be it through death or disagreement or something else.

as the end credits rolled, i just sat there for a moment, primarily b/c i'd cried enough to give myself a sore throat and i couldn't stop blinking residual tears away. i just kept thinking that my heart was so heavy and yet so very full at the same time.

hours later as i write this, i still feel that way - that my heart has been so heavy and yet so full simultaneously. not just today. not even just this week. hell, not even just this year, and lord knows there's been enough to cry/laugh/cry about already.

maybe it's remembering how powerful connections can be. i know i've felt more connected to chicago in the past few years than i probably ever have b/c of [reasons]. 

but i also feel like i've (re)established some powerful connections during that same time frame. i don't mean powerful in terms of clout or anything like that. but powerful more like…meaningful. i guess that's a more appropriate term. yeah, we'll go with "meaningful." that sounds good.

i think that the older we get and the more we realize that certain things in life really do have the capacity to suck for what feels like forever, the more important the connections we have with other people are. sometimes those connections are the only thing that gets us through. other times those connections are blocking us from whatever's next. the wisdom, one hopes, would be in knowing the damn difference.

on: being grounded (and not in the teenager kind of way)

i was talking to a friend recently and they were telling me about the current woes of a young woman they know. apparently she's a child of divorce and her mom is unstable and one or both parents are recovering alcoholics and she, according to my friend, just can't seem to get her act together. in this young woman's defense, though, she's still, well, young. i've not met this woman, but i know she's only a year out of college and is still trying to figure out what she wants to be when she grows up.

my friend is understandably concerned about this woman, b/c apparently her issues are starting to manifest themselves in ways that could be construed as self-defeating, if not self-destructive. as far as i can tell (and this is based solely on what my friend's told me, mind you), this young lady isn't really aware of the fact that her behavior is starting to raise some eyebrows.

"you know what i think a big part of (young lady)'s problem is," my friend noted, "is that there's no substance there. she doesn't have any sort of grounding or center. she doesn't really know who she is. it's not her fault, obviously, but i think that's what's missing."

we mulled that over for a bit and then my friend continued, "i mean, look at you. look at the things that have happened to you during the past few years. you're grounded enough and you're confident enough in who you are that you were able to deal with all of those things without floating away or completely coming unglued."

(god bless this friend for choosing to ignore just how damn close i've been to breaking down on multiple occasions, but whatever.)

my friend thinks that this young woman needs to seek counseling so that she can identify all of her myriad issues and, slowly but surely, work on addressing them. not a bad idea, obviously. the conversation shifted to other topics before we went our separate ways, but i've been mulling this over ever since.

i'm wondering how we got lucky enough to have the sort of "grounding" that my friend referred to. a lot of us come from dysfunctional family backgrounds and therefore we weren't necessarily raised to be super self-confident. i know i personally spent a good chunk of my post-college years trying to figure out exactly who i was and who i wanted to be. let the record show that this is a constant work in progress and i reserve the right to change my mind at any time. :-)

but seriously - how is it that some folks get dealt a less-than-ideal hand and manage to get through it relatively unscathed, while other folks just can't seem to claw their way through? any thoughts?