Another Crisis Averted

The powers of the universe, sensing the steady decline into madness that was occurring yesterday in my soul, sent a series of interventions that worked to my benefit. It appears that God, in His infinite and unknowable mercy, doesn't want me to be mad. This goes along with the assumption that I've already come to, namely, that He doesn't want me dead, that there must be a divine plan for my life, or I would have died in a car accident long ago. (Memphis drivers....ugh.) 

After having spent a good portion of the morning on my letter to the editor, I taught a few piano lessons and headed out to school, bitterly aware of the fact that my Spanish textbook still wasn't in. If I didn't get that textbook soon, as in at that very moment, I was going to be in muchos problemas with Senorita Tina. Y'all know me. You know that I, Katie, aka SuperNerd, hate not having my work done in a timely manner. I live in a never ending search to make my professors proud, and Senorita Tina doesn't know me from Adam. First impressions last a lifetime, my friends, and I was making a first impression as a flaky, airhead of a junior. This does not a happy Katie make. 

When I got to class (my favorite of the semester: History of Film! Squee!), I was not in a particularly good mood, although it was lifted some by how beautiful it was outside. Sixty degrees and blue skies! Doesn't get much better than that, even if it is January and supposed to be dreary and cold. If it had been any other class (in other words, a class which obviously requires electronic devices), I would have begged the professor to move the class outdoors.  So I walk into class, expecting to have a good class but be unable to concentrate, due to trying to salvage my scholastic future from the dump.

Dr. Jenkins revealed his professorial rock star status once more. 

What did he do, you ask? He brought in movies! 

The movies were relevant to the class material, of course. We've been studying the beginnings of films, silent pictures and stuff. So the first film we watched in class was a documentary that started with the Golden Age of silent film and progressed through Griffith's Birth of a Nation. The documentary was absolutely fascinating, with interviews with actual directors, cameramen, and actors and actresses of the time. 

It also contained bits of trivia about certain movies. We watched bits of one hysterical early Laurel and Hardy film in which they're absolutely tearing a house apart. The commentary said that the house was owned by a member of the film studio. The studio sent the man and his wife on vacation for a month with the guarantee that by the time they returned, their house would be returned to normal. When the production crew arrived at the house, though, they found that their key didn't work. Unperturbed, they merely broke down the door and got down to business. The characters subsequently busted windows, chopped down trees and bushes, and played baseball with vases from inside the house. Imagine their surprise, therefore, when a car pulled up and the man and woman inside, at the sight of the damage, promptly fainted. The production crew was at the wrong house!

I think my favorite silent actress is Lillian Gish. She was so well spoken in the documentary, and her acting was superb. She told so much of the story with her eyes and hands -- amazing. It kind of makes you take a second look at the actors of today. I certainly don't think that Keira Knightley could do the kind of acting that Lillian Gish did. I also like the fact that Lillian Gish hasn't compromised her views over the years. She hates what sound did to the movies, and had very good reasons as to why she hated it. She said it detracted away from the Art of film, that film and music were perfectly married, and that introducing words destroyed that union. Right or wrong, she's still saying the same things she likely said in the early part of the century, and you have to respect her for that. She hasn't cheapened her opinions.

Incidentally, I had no idea that Birth of a Nation was such a big deal. I wonder what Griffith thought about the fact that his movie masterpiece almost single-handedly rejuvenated the Ku Klux Klan? It kind of makes you hesitant as an artist -- who knows what kind of reaction your creation might evoke? I'm sure Upton Sinclair would say the same thing. He wrote a novel expecting to promote his form of art and ended up revolutionizing the sanitary conditions of our country. Disappointing to a degree, but no doubt necessary.

Anyway, the documentary took up most of our class time, but we spent the last ten minutes watching a shorter Griffith film, The Girl and Her Trust. It was the typical damsel in distress type film, but it was great. I've never watched much silent film, but I was fascinated with it. Isn't it marvelous that a lost art like that can still evoke such strong emotions? While I was irritated with the screaming, helpless heroine (just jump off the stupid handcart already, you feeb!), I still cheered the hero on in his quest to save her from the tramps. What does that say? It says that Griffith was marvelous. Racist, perhaps, but marvelous.

In any case, the movies preserved my sanity for a while. The attempt to keep from being fitted for a coat that would allow me to hug myself all the time was further helped by Mom showing up at the school and buying me a Spanish textbook from the bookstore since it appears that the one we ordered will never arrive. Gracias, Dios y Mama!

I drove home from school, and even put the windows down once I got off the interstate, and didn't care about the strange looks I got when people caught me singing, loudly, to "Can I Have This Dance?" and "Benny and the Jets." It was sheer joy. 

Then I taught a piano lesson, for which the student was ten minutes late, hadn't practiced, and his father came in and talked for fifteen minutes. Grr. But then, wonder of wonders, Mom revealed the menu of the evening: homemade fried chicken strips, corn, fruit cocktail, biscuits, and bread pudding.

Bliss.

Another crisis has been averted, Batman! I will retain my sanity, thanks to small blessings! I love my life. Really, even when it gets hairy, it's still beautiful. Sometimes you just have to shave it a bit to reveal the beauty.