Breakfast: "this fig walks into a bar..." from Trader Joe's

I am shocked and bewildered. I saw House of Sand and Fog today and cried in the movie theatre. I bit my lip and let it quiver, but the contorted face and tears came anyway, and I was left a sobbing mess. This hasn’t happened in years—at least 12. I do not cry easily and hate crying in public. I shed many tears in my childhood and believe I only have a limited amount left. Of course it is natural to cry, so it’s my parent’s fault that I don’t. My old therapist couldn’t believe I never cried in a session.

I wasted too many tears on my parents, it’s not fair. Blame is a waste, and I have forgiven my parents—funny that my mother cries easily.

The last movie that almost broke me was Capturing the Friedman’s. I walked the 15 minutes home sobbing and only one homeless person saw me, so it wasn’t so bad. It’s especially heartbreaking to watch an actual documentary of a family’s downward spiral.

I don’t really know how to analyze this foreign occurrence of tears. I guess it has something to do with the amount of passion each character in House of Sand and Fog possessed and how it destroyed each one in the end. It reminded me of how easily it is to be overwhelmed by our emotions or held rigid by ration. It reminded me of how hard life is for each one of us, no matter how it appears on the surface. It reminded me of how far someone will go for love—places some of us can’t imagine and will never go to in this lifetime.