This Week in Grief and Media: 5/6/24
Taurus season, why is driving so triggering, Challengers and not liking a movie starring someone who looks like my ex
Happy Taurus season! I know that it’s been Taurus season for a couple weeks, but now it’s specifically Taurus season in May, which is the best time of year. I’m actually not even just saying that because my birthday happens to land during this time. And May Tauruses (Tauri?) are the best people to exist—again, not just saying that because that is me. But it’s true. Especially Tauruses born on May 18.
I’m trying to learn how to drive again.
My first car was a 2002 Jeep Liberty that first belonged to my dad, then my mom, then me when I turned 16.5 (I procrastinated on getting my license). It had more than 365,000 miles on it and was prone to breaking down, which meant my parents told me I couldn’t drive it on the freeway. Even though I eventually drove on freeways, in different cars, might I add, this childhood messaging is probably partially why I haven’t been able to drive on freeways without getting a panic attack since 2020.
This week, Jack and I went to the DMV to get our California license plates. We have to go back next week, because the DMV is stupid (and so are we, likely), and all I could think about was going to the DMV with my mom when I was 16.5 to get my license.
When I was first learning to drive, I would practice in parking lots with my mom. One time I was practicing really well in a parking lot less than a mile from our house. Because of this, my mom told me I could drive home on the roads for the first time. At one point, while still in the lot, I was backing up into a spot and accidentally slammed on the gas pedal instead of the brakes, causing us to run into bushes. My mom said, “I think I’ll drive home now.”
I’ve said it so many times before, but my favorite memory of my dad was one day the summer before he died when we went for an hour-long drive through southeast San Diego. We were in his Porsche with the top down, the wind blowing through my hair, Pink Floyd playing. I had my hand outstretched and was staring at scenery passing by my fingers. It was one of those moments in which you know you’ll remember it forever. I was so content. I think that’s the most content I’ve ever been. I imagine the rest of this day to have been perfect too, considering we took a summer afternoon to go on this adventure. If I could relive any day, it would absolutely be this one.
All my cars were either borrowed, shitty Jeep Liberties or $1,000 used Hyundai Elantras from Craigslist until I bought my used black Prius C in 2018 that I still have now. I love my car. I went car shopping with my mom to multiple CarMax locations, but the second I saw this car online, I knew it was mine. I will run this car to the ground. A few months later, my mom bought a used blue Prius C. I was thrilled we had the same car, but I told her she copied me. She told me she liked Prius Cs first.
I have a little frog necklace hanging from my rearview mirror. It says “BEST” on it. My dad had the little frog that said “FRIENDS.” Or maybe he had the “BEST” and I had the “FRIENDS.” I do think the “BEST” is the ideal of the two to have, so I’m glad it worked out where I have it now. He used to have his hanging from his car’s rearview mirror, too.
I’ve noticed a pattern that when I’m on the road and feeling anxious, I see a blue Prius C. Without fail. Prius Cs are so common, but the blue version is so electric. I can’t say they’re rare, because I see them so often now. But I never saw many in that particular shade when my mom was alive.
Every time I would panic, or “feel weird” as I often eloquently say, while driving, I used to call her. In the weeks before she died, she told me that anytime I feel weird while driving to keep talking to her. Pretend she’s in the passenger seat and just talk to her. She told me that’s where she would and will be.
Honestly, before this week, I didn’t realize how much I see my parents in all things driving and cars. I drove on backroads for about 30 minutes this week, something that has made me anxious the last few years—something I felt deep down that my mom would be proud of. I want to be able to drive again. When I can, I think I’ll unlock a little piece of my parents I’ve been missing.
Okay, people. I finally saw Challengers. I need to see it about a hundred more times, and not just for Josh O’Connor. I watched different versions of the trailer in order to link it below, and I have full body chills.
After the trailer, I’m going to drop some tasteful spoilers. Please skip ahead to the update section if you haven’t yet seen the movie.
Tennis is soooo sexy btw, an opinion I’ve held but didn’t have the evidence to back up until now. Zendaya is a once-in-a-generation star, and Mike Faist and Josh O’Connor (did I mention Josh O’Connor) are incredible.
This movie was tense and horny and had me on the edge of my seat, like it was a tennis match itself. I loved this quote from @paulswhtn on Letterboxd re: Art and Patrick’s relationship throughout the movie:
“Tashi (whose reasons for doing any of this are an entirely other situation. Fascinating character) claims she might’ve been a homewrecker. I think she might’ve saved them. Tashi becomes, for lack of a better term, their tennis ball. She goes from side to side and, with each impact, causes an intense burst of energy. What adds to this is how she and Art’s life has seemingly become droll and boring without Patrick. It also shows in how Patrick’s life has declined without them. Without a push and pull, without their foil, without a good fucking game of tennis, they’re nothing. Or at least they feel like nothing without hitting a ball with a racket.” (Read their full review here.)
Though it pales in comparison to my review:
Challengers writer Justin Kuritzkes got his inspiration for Tashi’s character from Roger Federer’s wife/manager Mirka Federer, a tidbit that both thrills me and leaves me in awe by the way writers find their inspiration.
I have much rewatching to do and Wikipedia rabbit holes to go down.
I’m excited to share some podcast news with y’all soon~~~~ ;)))
Also, a couple of you have pledged your support to become paid subscribers when I turn on paid subscriptions, which I am deeply thankful for and can’t believe is real. As a heads up, my goal is to officially turn on paid subscriptions next month. The media database, this newsletter and the podcast will always be free. For paid subscribers, I’m toying around with the idea of a “close friends”-type newsletter where I talk about grief and life in a bit more of an unfiltered way. Plus, you’ll get the added bonus of monetarily supporting this work. If you’re interested, I’d love it if you could pledge your support if you can. Thank you x10,000,000 and more.
Yesterday I watched the movie Spontaneous, a horror/comedy movie where seniors at a high school just start spontaneously exploding with no explanation.
I wasn’t particularly impressed with the movie overall and gave it 2.5 stars on Letterboxd (and I was annoyed a good portion of the movie because the male main character looks vaguely like an ex), but I added it to the database because 1. you may love it and 2. the premise and parts of the execution are really sticking with me.
People say the movie was overall supposed to be commentary on gun violence or suicide, but I was intrigued by the way the students were more understanding and less avoidant of their own grief as more and more students exploded.
There was a student named Julian who died at my high school only a couple months after my dad did my senior year. I didn’t know him very well but I think about him often. I was really struck by the gravity of the situation and couldn’t let go of the thought of how his family was coping, because I myself had come to know grief intimately only months before. Even though my grandparents and aunts and a friend named Vinnie had died before my dad, I don’t think I ever understood or processed what death was before December 2013. People like my grandma, my nana, my aunt Beverly—I’m only now processing their deaths and what it means to not have them in my life.
So despite my 2.5 stars and my ex, I did enjoy how this movie subtly touched on compounded grief, especially for high schoolers—an age that feels so especially hard to understand grief.
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