Gumption

When the movie Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close came out, I wanted to see it in the theatre so badly. The book had reached into by soul, rearranged some of my deep-seated thoughts, and left me blown away in the best possible ways. I was so stirred and transformed by the metaphors and imagery. I felt that the transformation to the big screen would not be as powerful, but just as moving. Things just mean more to me in the theatre--the atmosphere and upright position of the chairs adds to the experience of being taken with the story. In a way, the darkness makes me more willing to be vulnerable to the empathy. Plus it was a movie I wanted to support.

Well, no one would/could go with me. The timing never worked out with those who wanted to see it. And I asked the friends that I thought would go just to go with me, but I always got a no.

So I went to the movie alone. I sat in the back of the nearly empty theatre, sobbing. I am so glad I went through with what I wanted. I got the experience I was hoping for.

It's one of the decisions I value most. I didn't go by myself to wallow. And I didn't go consumed with spite. I did not want to go alone, but after an honest effort to get someone to go with me (even trying to get friends to go out of pity by reiterating that I would, in fact, be going alone), I just went. Embarrassment and fear became irrelevant because I was living the life I wanted. Being my own friend and ally.

I think it is strange that going to the movies alone is such a big deal. (It had always been one of those bucket list sort of things for me.) Going to matinees seems acceptable, but going at night--especially on the weekends--carries so much stigma. Why do you need someone to go with you to sit in a dark place where chit-chat is frowned upon? Of course, it's nice to have company, but being alone shouldn't hold me back. It shouldn't keep me from being the kind of person I want to become.