And today, Carrie Fisher died. “Drowned in moonlight, strangled by my own bra.”
I’ve watched and rewatched so many of her appearances via reposted YouTube clips today. She was something special. An early (a first?) crush, a role model, someone who owned her crazy so completely that she was able to help remove the stigma of “crazy” from others. I mean, seriously, by being so open and honest about her own bi-polar diagnosis and then later about her addictions, she changed the conversation about how those things could and should be perceived. And even while she showcased her talents in so many other films, she never stopped embodying the character everyone knew her for.
She is in the next Star Wars film. She had already wrapped filming, so at least there is that bittersweet comfort. We’ll see her again. But we won’t. I’m sad that I never had the opportunity to meet her. Would I have managed, if she came through on a book tour? I would have liked to.
There are a few more days of 2016. Of course, the awfulness won’t stop when we hit midnight. Time doesn’t work like that. But having some sort of demarcation point is at least a little bit helpful psychologically. Compartmentalization. All of the awful things that happened in 2016 can stay in 2016. We’ll deal with the new awful that 2017 will bring us fresh. And we’ll need it. Hopefully we’ll be able to stare down the coming evil empire with the same hopeful defiance modeled by Ms Fisher as Princess and then Senator and then General Leia Organa. Rebel. Resist.
Tomorrow I’m taking a sick day. Hopefully, it’ll be enough to get through the rest of the year. And then, I really need a vacation.
More later …