The Joker and Me

Before reading this, I feel like a few things must be noted:
I do not have any mental issues.
I do not have brain damage.
I have no future plans to go on a killing rampage.

I would almost think it unnecessary to let these be known before writing a piece about how I merely related to a Joker in a movie, but this is 2019 and everyone finds a trigger or a cry for help in everything.  Now we can begin this piece of writing peacefully.

I was never hugely into comics or heroes when I was younger and that didn't change much as I aged.  As most older millennial, I dressed up as disney princesses or power rangers for Halloween every year and my brothers might have picked spider man or batman or whatever else was popular for boys.  
Even if I wasn't big into it, I do remember lots of VHS tapes over the years.  Our sister is 10 years older that me and my brothers and I recall a lot of Van Damme, Stallone, and Willis as well as a mountain of Batman movies.  My favourites of course being Batman Returns because of the general creep factor and I have no idea why I loved the Penguin so much; then there was Jim Carrey's Riddler in Batman Forever.  Who could beat Nicholson's Joker? As an actor he was already so bomb!

You're starting to see a pattern with the love for bad guys by now.  I thought they were great! Always mischievous, always had the best outfits, always so honest, what's not to love?

Yet still, as a kid I was never fully enveloped in them. When the movie was over, I went back to Betty Spaghetti or Legos and was a good little girl who just enjoyed her cinema.

It wasn't until I started seeing commercials for The Dark knight that I recall being so excited for a movie to come out. (Except LOTR. I read the Hobbit in school and the LOTR then saw that first one in theatres 3 times in the same week and I have no regrets.)  Heath. Mothafuckin. Ledger.

As if I didn't fall in love with him in A Knight's Tale, now he was switching to the dark side AND he was going to be Joker nonetheless? Oh, be still, my heart.

Unlike everything else I've known to have a hype and huge following then fucking suck, The Dark Knight did everything but suck.  He was so dapper in his purple suit, his giggle was so charming, and he always had a backup plan.  Money couldn't buy him what he wanted and I felt that.  He spoke to my inner anarchist and granted it was unfortunate what happened to Ledger, he did an amazing  job of portraying a mad man.

That was the second and only other movie to date I just had to see two more times in the cinemas.  My friends got me like a million Joker shirts that Christmas.  I just about applaud every time we see Harvey Dent become his destiny and let's be honest. Rachel needed to die.

Which brings us to Today.  Based on previews, I really didn't have high hopes for this Joker movie.  It just made him look like a sad man who goes by the name Joker.  Where's the anarchy? Where's the sarcasm? I had seen some great reviews from friends on Facebook I couldn't help but be curious enough to go see myself. I was so happy that I did.

The laughing.  The laughing is what tuned me in.  Juxtapose with the Joker everyone knows that has always laughed because he wanted to and always laughed despite the do-gooders, we are met with a Joker that has a condition.  A condition that has only added to the pile off bullshit that he calls his life.

Refer to the top before we go into this section; there is nothing wrong with me.  I just laugh a lot. Sometimes incessantly.  I've gotten significantly better about it over the years and am no where near the severity of the condition the guy had in the movie, but I do know that one of the things people know me for is my bursts.

Just yesterday I was visiting an old employer.  His wife came out smiling and said, "I thought he was out here flirting with a customer but then I heard you and said oh I know that laugh!" On numerous occasions I've had friends tell me they saw me (or someone saw me and told them) that I was walking and laughing to myself as if I was high as a kite.  "Nope. That's just her." Is what they would say.  When I started seeing a councilor in college, I remember a session when she started smiling and shaking her head, "You know. What you're telling me isn't funny and I acknowledge your trauma but why are you still smiling?"

And forget about my many run ins with the cops over the years. I remember one time in college I was at a friend's place listening to music in their trailer when the piggies popped up about a noise complaint.  I wasn't even talking to the officer but he looked at me and said, "Is something funny?" I giggled back at him, "No I just smile a lot." "ALL THE TIME." My friend had added, very seriously and his eyes were wide, begging not to cause trouble.

But I think that's what the character meant when he was talking to his talkshow hero.  I didn't grow up surrounded by people making fun of me for it, and believe you me, I had plenty of times to be ridiculed.  Hurt, times of stress, death, even during sex.  You name it, I giggled through it and it has taken a lot of years and self controlling my face to get to where I am.  People don't like you giggling at them when they say their dog died or someone in the family did.  It makes you feel like a piece of shit but when people just understand it's a tick of yours, it's easier to get around it.  You can imagine boyfriends got frustrated with it. "You're laughing. Why are you laughing? It's not funny."

I really felt for this new Joker.  I really felt he had been every bit of peaceful and kept his cool for way too long until he really just couldn't any more. Plus it's not like he went out of his way just to kill some dipshit kids.  They were monsters but had he come forward and say he was attacked, who would they have believed?  I think we all know where favour goes to when educated white men fuck up.

But let's not get into full on politics of the world.  I know this was fictional but you really have to look deeper into how closely it related with society today.  Everyone has a chance to be a dick or be kind.  Everyone on the lower tier is frustrated with being called lesser by the top societal tier.  People are tired of being misunderstood. Mistreated. Tired of being tired.  Would a riot really be so bad?

Having been a sweetheart of the past, I totally understand what it feels like to absolutely want to give up and watch the world burn.  Trying is a lot harder than destroying everything and starting from scratch.  I have no idea how I got so lucky to always had been surrounded by people who were mostly accepting of my ticks but I know not everyone is fortunate.

So what to take away from this? Joker is a fuckin good movie and you really need to see it.

Or maybe: Don't jump clowns on subway busses.

Or perhaps: This ginger kid had a lot more issues than I thought.

My favourite: even if your purpose isn't to start a revolution, if your message is strong enough, it'll resonate and you won't have a choice. 

Introduction Long Overdue

Three years. It has been almost 3 years since my mema's passing and also the last time I wrote something I cared to post.  Looking on this blog, I see that I have several drafts over the years that got saved and never published. Probably didn't think any of it was interesting enough for anyone to want to read.  So if you're reading this, know that I feel proud of myself.  Not only did I write, something that I used to do quite often, but I finished a complete text and even went as far as to publish it in the good ol' blog.

This piece was mainly prompt by a conversation that I had with my manager the other night.  "Does no one really know anything about me other than I bartend?" Genuine confusion.  As if anyone that I surround myself with now days grew up with me or have even seen me display any other kind of interest.  I think it's mainly due to the fact most anyone I see anymore is either at work or at the bar.  No one comes over for dinner like people used to.  No one sees the eccentric safety net of my walls nor do they smell the comfort of my kitchen.  Not only do I never have anyone to ask me who painted all the canvas on my walls but it's not like I put out any videos or short stories like I used to either.  No one to ask how I learned to do all those things.

So maybe it's fair I'm looked at as just a bartender because I don't offer up evidence that there is anything else worth being seen.

Without further ado, here is my introduction long overdue.

When no one is around, I like to clean.  Maybe I'll get on my phone and chat up a friend I miss or haven't caught up with or maybe I'll blare some dubstep or house music, but I like to organize my clutter.  I'm messy, not dirty.  Random placings of work clothes or bags when I get home don't bother me but it would seem once a week my brain will switch and I'll find a place for the shoes that never seem to leave the front door or the backpacks I claim as diaper bags that get left on the counters or coffee table.

Coffee. I love coffee.  It's not necessarily my need-to-drink-to-wake-up beverage more than my beginning-of-work-day beverage.  The pot I put on in the late afternoon even when I know I'm not going to drink it but I really wanted to smell it. The grounds I take straight from the pot and use as a scrub in the shower to wake up my dead skin and caffeinate my depressed face, making it feel so smooth and smelling like Happy.

Of all the things I love the most, books go hand in hand with coffee.  When my tot started walking and getting into things, the one thing that could make me irate was chewing on the corners of the books nicely placed in their shelves. Are they alphabetized? Descending by size? Colourized this time or maybe the shelves are by subject matter? Depends on the month and my mood that you'll see the bookshelves change their placement and only one time did I go by the Dewy Decimal System and never again because there was no feng shui appeal to it.  The best subject matter are the stories that don't end quite right.  There is a resolution but it's not always a happy ending.  I like reading about tragedy of individuals that claw their way out.  Not success. Just realistic struggle.

Along with reading, writing has been there too.  College sparked the most of it, trying to post at least once a week or couple weeks and always having stories to tell because my life has always been entertaining to say the least.  When the ball got rolling and StumbleUpon was starting to get popular, I entered many of my writings on the site and next thing I knew I had 11,000 readers and for some reason the 2nd largest group of readers in a country was from Russia next to the U.S.  The older I got the less I wrote and I found I didn't want to write my fun stories. I wanted to write the sad ones.  The last two submissions are for people I loved who passed.  One of natural causes and the other murdered.

I've been to three schools for formal education which resulted in 3 degrees and 2 certifications but all it means is that I loved learning.  I'm not disappointed that I haven't necessarily done anything as active for my career with most of these things but later I also learned I didn't need the education background for anything that I wanted to do.  Still not disappointed.  A main philosophy I love living by is "Live life with no regrets." I think I do a pretty good job of that and am okay with the lessons I've learned.  For the curious though,  the career paths I could have taken with each of these was a coroner, a glorified accountant, a CNA, and a film editor.   Two of which I successfully took on as a job or a hobby but my life isn't over and maybe that's why I'm not disappointed.

The longest job I had was three years and it was working at a care center. Elderly. I've had a love for old people for as long as I could remember.  Their stories are always better than mine and listening to the hard lessons has prevented me from making my own hard lessons.  It goes back to not wanting to regret.  I don't want to lay on my death bed wishing I had said something to someone or wishing I had tried something different.  Not only do most elderly have the lessons they learned, but I believe are also like sponges and are good at listening.  In the generations before us,  if they could not relate, they didn't change the subject.  They listened more.  The bitter old bastards you know are the ones that never absorbed the world around them.  I truly believe that.

I'm not military but It's always the first question I get asked when someone finds out just how many states I've lived in or how many times I've moved.  Maybe it was moving at such a young age 2,000 miles across the United States that I found comfort in knowing that you can always restart your life and the more you do it, the easier it is.  But also.  The more you do it the harder it is to find people to bear your soul to.  I've had more jobs than years I am old and when I applied for dispatcher and had to put every address I'd lived in the 5 previous years did I realize that on paper I really do look like a transient.  Bartending, I get asked all the time where I am from and most every time it results in me shaking my head, "Everywhere, baby.  I'm a gypsy."  No one really questions that once it's said.  It usually follows up with a, Oh cool, or my favourite, Where is the best place you've ever lived?

I say it's my favourite question, but within my answer lies great disdain and why I had to leave there is something I am never honest about.

The beauty of the countries that I've travelled to and the simplicity of other countries that I've read about makes me almost embarrassed to call myself an American.  I don't enjoy our foundation nor people's general beliefs and touchiness but Be the change you want to see! has made me stick it out this long and maybe change some perspectives around me like a ripple in the water.

I used to sell art for money.  Now I just have an abundance of my canvases and paints and yarn and varnishes and finishes and pencils and endless sketchbooks and unfinished paintings in a room I call my Art Room that just sits there until the next time a fire lights my ass and I feel like I can complete something great.  My latest project has been picture frames and it really does make me happy how cool they've all turned out.

This is probably the most honest I've been publicly in a while.  In recent years I've been called "emotionally unavailable" but I don't see how that's true.  I think I'm just like everyone else.  My public face, and my face around friends; it just so happens that my two faces are very different from each other and the difference is very obvious once you know it's there.

Until next time.  I'll try not to be another 3 years.