Posted in Entertainment, Relationships, Uncategorized

The Photograph

I finally made my way to see the movie The Photograph, weIl after its 2/14 opening. There’s a story that I need to insert here to add some credence to how I feel about this movie. I had every intention of seeing this movie on Valentine’s Day weekend. Not with a boo or anything. I don’t have one of those. However, I had been kind of “seeing” someone for a few months. And he chose the Thursday before this movie was released to tell me we needed to see less of each other. Ain’t that some shit? SMH

I was devastated and in my feelings for entire weekend. Obviously, that was not the movie to see. I was not about to sitting up in the theater crying about what I no longer had. But I was not lost on all of the negative reviews I came across opening weekend and weeks later.

“Love Jones fail.”

“Issa Rae doesn’t do sexy well.”

“The chemistry was missing .”

“I fell asleep.”

Etc, etc, etc…

Nevertheless , I was determined to see this movie for myself. Make my own decision . Today was the day.

First of all, I only saw two similarities to Love Jones. The first being Christina being a photographer. The second being these scene with Mike’s (I think that’s Mae’s love interest name) brother and his wife that was kind of love jonsie. That’s about all the Loves Jones I got out of the movie. Oh yeah, and Mike was had a job opportunity out of town. But that was it!

More than a love story, I saw the story being more about the complexities of being a woman. Specifically, the complexities of the mother-daughter relationship. Christine wants love. She’s a woman of immense passion. But, she wants also wants a meaningful career. She wants her life to be more than bringing pleasure to her man. Can she have both becomes the question? She takes the risks that most women don’t take. Leaving the love of the man in pursuit of her greater passion—her work. Then she has this daughter to take care of. She shows her daughter love in the only way she knows how—providing for her while giving the best of herself to her work. The daughter grows up questioning the love of the mother.

As a mother of a daughter, we see so clearly the things that our daughters will encounter in their lives. They will love. They will be be loved. They will experience pain. We long to spare them of the pain. But we can’t. So we raise them to be strong, to be able to overcome all things. Somewhere in this process, the love of the mother is questioned by the daughter. The daughter will never understand until she, herself, walks in her mother’s shoes.

I didn’t really see anything special between Christina & Issac. I saw that she loved her work more than she loved Issac.

In Christina’s letter to Mae, she says she wishes she was as good at love as she was at her work. Those words penetrated my soulful because my experience is the opposite. My strength is in loving people. My family, my kids, the man in my life. So much so that I put my work—my writing—second, sometimes third or fourth. Christina’s story made me want to do something something different.

I want to know how much better my work will be if I push my work up on my list of priorities. I wonder…

The Photograph was a love story. A story of a woman loving herself. Loving her work. Loving a man. Loving her daughter. But not knowing how to love them equally, at the same time.

It wasn’t Love Jones. It wasn’t The Notebook. It was the Photograph.

Naturally Yours,

L.A.

Posted in Entertainment, People

Interesting Fact about L.A.

If you ever enter a women’s—unisex, family, or whatever it’s called—you won’t see me pick up one of those seat covers. Why? Because I can’t stand them. When I try to use them the damn things always fall in the toilet before I can sit on it. And while I fidgeting around with that I’m about to damn near pee on myself!

It’s usually in the workplace that I feel the most judgments. It’s usually where I’ve tried the most to use them. Just for their perceived sanitation. But what works best for me is old fashioned method of covering the seat with tissue, squatting over the seat and wiping any droppings. The way my mom taught me as a young girl.

I accomplish the same goal without the frustration . Now if anyone wants to give me a tutorial…never mind. I don’t want one . I’ll keep doing what works for me.

Naturally Yours,

L.A.

P.S. Before you call me a trifling, might I say the trifling ones are those who flush the seat covers without checking to make sure it’s gone down. And the next one coming in the stall has to deal with that! That is all!