With a membership to Cinema/Chicago, every few weeks there’s another screening of an upcoming feature. Over the year, I’ve been able to see some stellar films and hear inspiring Q&As with directors, writers and actors. As these screenings usually take place during the week, it’s a nice way to unwind after a work day.
This past week, we screened The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. It features an all-star, British cast and does not disappoint. It’s about a group of ex-pats seeking solace, meaning and a new hip in India. The film is rich with colors, sounds and moments that feel all too real. But the film wasn’t the only thing I got that night.
As this film skews to an older, mature demographic, there weren’t many young adults there, sans the staff of Cinema/Chicago. Didn’t bother me one bit, but if it weren’t for this film, I can assure you I would not have met a most fascinating person named Sandy. Sandy is probably somewhere over the age of 70, rents library books, quotes philosophers and has spent his years doing good in Africa, Europe and Asia. He’s basically the kind of person I want to become.
We had great talks before and after the film where he told me things about himself and just things in general. When he found out I was a writer, we spent a lot of the conversation discussing linguistics, which I can honestly say, I’ve never given much thought to. We went our separate ways with the promise of catching an art exhibit.
The one thing I took away from Sandy, was his comment when I told him that he’s had such an awe-inspiring life.
“The best is yet to come.”
And if we learned anything from The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, that’s exactly what’s to come.
I always get nervous when I come across studies based on professions. Because I get it, I know my field is rough. It’s why 85% of girls at Kansas answered the “What’s Your Major” question with “Journalism!” I know the advertising and public relations fields were super competitive. Which is why I pseudo-switched what I wanted to do for a job. I knew I wanted to do something rooted in journalism, but I didn’t want to be a reporter. I hated writing. I needed other outlets and interactions with people while being allowed to dream up crazy things. Granted, I’m writing a ton, but I appreciate it now. And cannot imagine calling myself anything but a writer.
Came across this infographic and couldn’t help but smile. via The Grindstone
It is written.
First off, I know the typical back-to-school season is in August, but this Saturday, I’m returning to school. GREER, my favorite store in all this land, will host The Letter Writers Alliance and create homemade Valentines for Monday.
Let me say that again, we’ll make vintage, homemade, handmade Valentines. I’m so ecstatic for this that I’m missing the Kansas game against Iowa State. I mean, how many chances does a gal get to create things with her hands in her favorite paper store along side some fantastic ladies?
I’m sure I’ll sing the praises of this activity after it happens; after all, The Letter Writers Alliance is write up my alley (see what I did there?). They promote the skill of handwritten letters and postage. I cannot tell you the thrill I get when I receive an unexpected envelope in the mail with “KIMMIE” written in the return address box (that’s Kelly, after seeing My Best Friend’s Wedding, we thought the scene from the White Sox bathroom was hysterical). And it’s no secret my happiness level after spending a few hours in the card shop and picking out some favorites to send to people.
I did have a goal in life to create a greeting card…