I took myself to a matinee of "Year of the dog" this weekend. Didn’t love it, but if a movie continues to make you think for hours after, in my book that's a good movie-going experience. The plot took several odd, long-way 'round moments before coming to its natural and not-entirely-unexpected-really-the-only-logical-conclusion, and it ventured a bit far into crazy dog lady territory than lonesome soul finding her passion.
However, a moment stands out. Molly Shannon's character announces she's become a vegan. She says (and I'm paraphrasing), "I never had a word to describe me. It feels nice". So, of course, it made me think of my word. Or words. One, two or a few to instantly express who we are and make us feel “part” of something (or, sadly, disparate).
It's the first word that popped in me head. But that’s just about work. I could say “writer” (sounds more romantic).
Then I get stuck. I bet most choose parent, husband or wife, none if which is me. Some of my words aren’t so kind.
I should think of the words by which I'd (likely) be eulogized. The words of how others see me.
Perhaps that’s my message from the movie, albeit coming about in my own odd, long way ‘round; open my ears to the good words (which are too often to quiet) and not so much the bad that I repeat like Rainman inside my own head.
Doing so would be very Brave.