Broken English

What does any girl need on a dull day? A french man, a trip to France, and, did I say, a french man? Oh, who am I kidding. It wasn't a dull day, it was three. In a row. I've always overlooked this film in the line of titles. I didn't like something about that title, but I was cold, and lonely, and needed a film-powder, mixed in water, and bubble soothing. I took another look at the description and realized that Parker Posey starred in it. And I love Parker Posey. From the first frame of the film, I was in. Where do I begin? I think that as a woman, of a certain age, who lives in a city, with a perspective that doesn't quite fit into the 'norm,' it can easily become out-of-focus. On some days, it's a hum. Everything is in its place and the cells of the human existence are in sync. And then other days, we roll to the flat side of the tire. I don't imagine that this is different for everyone, whichever path that they've taken in their lives. But for those off the convention, it's harder to go through the exercise of checks. Great job. Check. Husband, wife, significant other. Check. Children. Check. Busy days of required attention. Check.  And in the first frame that is Posey's character looking herself in the mirror, I see it. She wonders, how do I fit into this. Or do I even need to care. Sip of wine. Blow out the candles. Out of the door she goes where she'll face a room of required attention, and mother who wonders if she didn't let a good one go.

And then a french man comes into her life. She doesn't even believe it when it happens. And I suppose that I wouldn't either. It takes a step out of bounds to discover that maybe she's found something that she's been looking for ... and afraid to find it. I have watched this movie three times, and I imagine that I will watch it another ... dozen. There's a lesson in it for me. If a french man suddenly pops into my life, I need to pay attention to it, and believe that I deserve for it to happen. 

I do need to watch a few more times as I don't think that I quite have the hang of it just yet. Case in point: I was in Target the other day after work, and I was mucha fucha-ing about the day. My head was down, and I was in a wave that wasn't good for me. I pushed my cart around the corner, and a good looking man and his friend were approaching me. The one pulled on a beautiful smile, looked me in the eye, and said, 'hello.' I guess that I sort of grunted back. I felt like a dinosaur with every pimple that I've ever had reappearing for another show. He shrugged, and I pushed on. About an aisle down, I thought, well jeez. Maybe the french man comes in the form of a nice guy saying hi at Target, and I just blew it by letting everything that was congested in my head show itself in a half-hearted grunt.

I look at myself in the mirror and examine too closely. I just gotta go to Paris as our girl does in the movie and ... be. Even at the end of be, I'll be the better for it for having made a move. And it might just be the exact moment when the french man finds me.