#there were times in college when i god damn ugly cried from sheer frustration

[leggalese]

I'm fully convinced that Feen wasn't a precious angel and was a massive brat in his own way. If he didn't get his favorite part in a play or if his artwork would get lambasted by a teacher he'd throw the most diva fit and insist how unfair the world is. He also most likely thought his peers were less talented than him and would freely butt in to critique their work only to cry foul if the same would be done to him. He was born petty.

On the right is an imagined scenario of him and Miles being study buddies. Everyone would have such a miserable time together <3.

[someinstant]

hi, hello, sometimes i still check this thing, can we talk about star wars? (i liked it)

So after the orgy of present-opening and cooking and Christmas music and wine-drinking and devouring of prime rib and Yorkshire pudding, my sister and I dragged my parents to see The Last Jedi, because we had waited FOREVER to see it, and also we were tired of avoiding spoilers.

(If you wish to avoid spoilers, this is where you should stop reading, because I’m going to gush a little about Things That Happened.)

I’m going to do this in list format, because I’m not focused enough right now to manage a coherent argument.  So here, have a List of Thoughts about The Last Jedi, many of which are not about the movie at all:

1. I teach high school.  (Did you know that? I don’t even know if anyone reads this thing anymore. Whatever, that’s cool. I write for me, mostly.) And more than that, I teach seniors in high school.  I’m incredibly lucky that the students I teach are amazing, driven, diverse kids, and they make every day I spend in the classroom worth it.  And all genders have their own quirks and challenges, but I have to admit a special fondness for my idiotic, brilliant senior boys: they’re so close to being functioning adults, and so incredibly far from it at the same time.  I had this one student several years ago-- I’ll omit his name for reasons of not being a creep-- who just shone with this irrepressible vibrancy.  He was the kid who’d be late to school on the day of finals (”Why were you late?” “I would have been on time, but the towel caught fire.”),* only had twenty minutes to take his chemistry exam, and aced the damn thing. He was an athlete-- soccer, played keeper-- funny as hell, endlessly compassionate towards his friends, and inevitably three steps ahead during lecture. He was in love with new books every week: Into the Wild had him making plans to go backpacking in Alaska, Julius Caesar had him standing on desks giving funeral orations. He was also going to be a handsome sonofabitch when he grew up. And he knew all of this.

He could also be thoughtlessly cruel, dismissive when he didn’t agree with criticism, and utterly assured his decisions were correct.  So when he got ten days out of school suspension and an arrest record which nearly cost him his college acceptance, I went home and cried, because that kid was one of MINE, and he fucked up, and badly.  What he did could have hurt someone, and it was only through sheer luck that it didn’t. And I also cried because-- oh god, his poor mother, who was the sweetest, most hard-working woman I’ve ever met, and she made all these sacrifices for him, and he just-- let it all burn for no reason.

(Maybe there was a reason. But that reason is his, and not mine, and I won’t speculate.)

And then I cried because I wondered if we’d-- if I’d-- indulged him too much.  If I smiled too much at his antics, because I found them charming and funny in a boy, but would have found them shockingly immature in other genders. So then I sat down and wrote out a letter, three pages, front and back, about how I felt.  How proud I was of his intellect and joy, and how much his lack of caution frightened me. How hurt I was that he had done what he did. How disappointed I felt. How much I believed that he could change, and make better decisions. How he had to learn to weigh consequences, and think more than a week in the future.  I told him all his potential didn’t matter if he burnt it up in a few stupid impulses.  I gave him the letter when he came back to school after his suspension, and he cried in front of me when he read it. Just big, ugly, shoulder-shaking sobs.  His mother found me at graduation and hugged me so hard I thought my ribs would break.

(He’s doing great, now, by the way. Came by to visit before school ended this semester. Probation’s done, he’s got an internship he loves, he seems steadier and happy, and he brought me a jar of preserves from his mom. They’re good people.)

2. So I really loved The Last Jedi, because: I know exactly who Poe Dameron and Finn and Luke and Kylo Ren are. I also recognize Leia’s fond indulgence warring with her frustration, and Admiral Holdo’s air of I am done with your shit, young man.  That bit, as they’re transfering an unconscious Poe to the transport vessel after his incredibly dumb attempt at a mutiny? Where Holdo and Organa have that, “I really like this one,” “Me too,” exchange?  I have had that conversation a million times with fellow teachers about troublesome students, most of them male. We love them, but JESUS H. CHRIST are they a pain in the ass.  Which makes this an interesting story to me, because it’s both about the problems of impulsive, ride-or-die masculinity, and the indulgence of it. Leia’s very much a stand-in for Poe’s mom in this, and she indulges him, and is also incredibly frustrated by him when that indulgence results in terrible decision-making.  And I can appreciate that.

3. Also, do you know how much I love that the Resistance survives because Poe asks everyone to be quiet and listens? Poe, who turned off his radio so he didn’t have to listen to Leia, who talked over Holdo and jumped to conclusions about the transport ships, who was so interested in what he had to say that he missed all of the nuances around him.  Listening, man. It’s important.

4. Were there pacing problems? Hell yes. I wasn’t crazy about Floating Leia, frankly, and the bit where Leia and Kylo are talking to each other through their bond-- eh, I think there were more interesting cinematic ways to do that. 

5. Also, I think Luke is more interesting in this movie than in any of the other films. FIGHT ME.

6. Also also: Laura Dern has taken on velociraptors. When she tells you she’s got it under control, trust her damn word.

* True story. I never asked for the details, because I figured it was best I didn’t know.