25 Reviews and Ratings of Netflix Documentaries, OR When Theatre Majors Work in Windowless Rooms

I work for a temp agency in Chicago and was sent out to an assignment on my fourth day in the city. I started working as a clerk in a housing office and barcode, file and help organize things for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. We're allowed to listen to have our phones and listen to whatever we want so I've been hitting up my Netflix app in a serious (and accidentally expensive, sorry Dad) way. I figured documentaries would be the perfect thing to listen to since they use more interview/dialogue versus picture to convey the stories. In addition to watching two full seasons of New Girl and a bunch of TED talks, I managed to watch quite a few titles in the last two months and thought I would give my suggestions and little synopsis for each.

Here are the documentaries I've watched while filing, in order of my preference:

25. The Secret
-46/5
I actually couldn't get past five minutes into this documentary. It is THE most dramatic thing I've ever seen and I spent the last four years in a theatre department. Do yourself a favor and watch the first five minutes or so. When my mom came to visit me, the only person from home I'd seen since moving here, the first thing I did was show her this because it is that bad. Also, they tell you the secret in like the first minute of the documentary, terrible strategy fellas.

24. Carl Panzram: The Spirit of Hatred and Vengeance
Rating: 2/5
Honestly this one was pretty much background noise. Murder/crime stuff interests me for whatever terrible curiosity that makes us read tabloids. I vaguely remember the actor who narrated Panzram's diary being super dramatic so that was relatively amusing if nothing else. Overall, pretty monotonous but kind of a cool insight into how much childhood can shape a person.

23. Kevorkian
2.5/5
This was about Dr. Kevorkian or Dr. Death, the gentleman who was arrested for providing physician assisted suicide for his fatally ill patients. Interesting to find out more information about it since the debate is still pretty relevant, but definitely a more quiet documentary than most. If you're looking for a good documentary on the topic, How To Die in Oregon is one of the better ones.

22. Following Sean
2.5/5
A documentarian recorded film of a 4-year-old child, Sean, of drug addicts in San Francisco in 1969. He now went back to catch up with Sean and family to see how they ended up years later and discusses the influence they had on each other's lives. Cute, simple, interesting enough.

21. The Jeffery Dahmer Files
3/5
Again, sick curiosity thing. At first this started super slow and dramatic but eventually it had a very interesting view of the case from the perspective of the lead investigator and next door neighbor. Since the case was very well known, the documentary took a look at the people who saw the humanity in him, however misguided they may have been at the time.

20. Not Safe for Children
3/5
Not technically a documentary but I thought it was at the time so I'm counting it. It follows the story of a guy whose whole life revolves around partying and realizes in his mid-twenties that he has testicular cancer and won't be able to have children. He has something like a month before his surgery to try to find someone to carry his child. It's kind of a cute, quirky love story and overall I thought it was pretty enjoyable.

19. Religulous
3.5/5
I usually don't like Bill Maher, sort of the Fox News of liberals but I was actually pretty surprised with this one. I definitely enjoyed all of the information and thought he was overall pretty respectful to those he talked to with differing opinions. It ends with a very reasonable and logical conclusion somewhere in between the extremes and didn't turn into the "Christians are idiots" act I sort of assumed it might be.

18. Becoming Chaz
3.5/5
The story of Chaz Bono and his journey of discovering his sexual identity. Pretty straight forward and what you think it's going to be like, but gender identity is a topic I'm interested in, so I found it enjoyable. And interviews with Cher are always silly. So, there's that.

17. Monica and David
3.5/5
The love story of two young adults and newly weds with down syndrome. Really sweet and interesting look at a topic a lot of people don't understand. Definitely worth watching.

16. First Circle
3.5/5
An exploration of the foster care system in America. It focuses on several families and their struggles with addiction, crime, relapse and attempting to keep families together. Interesting interviews with parents, kids, foster parents, police officers and social workers. I didn't feel that it played up the drama of an incredibly broken system, but rather had an relatively fair look at all sides of the issue.

15. The Science of Sex Appeal
4/5
Through multiple studies and social experiments, this film shows the actual science behind what attracts human beings. Taking a very emotionally removed look at what makes someone attractive and featured a super cool software that generates how attractive you are on a scale of 1/10. (Yes, Derik and I did do the program online for both of us. And both of the cats. Walter actually was rated pretty high on the scale of human attractiveness, the program was horrified by Henry's kitten proportions. Bummer, Hen). I was thoroughly entertained (and often surprised) the entire time.

14. Tabloid
4/5
Watch this documentary for the bizarre twists and turns it takes in this seriously disturbed woman's story. I literally laughed out loud in the middle of work during the last 15 minutes as it was so entirely off the path of the rest of the story. It follows the story of Joyce McKinney, a former beauty queen with an abnormally high IQ and former prisoner on charges of kidnapping and assaulting her alleged fiancee/random guy who didn't know her that well, whom she claims was kidnapped by Mormons and taken hostage in London. It's just the weirdest thing. Watch it. And then live text me your reaction to the last 15 minutes. It gets seriously funny.

13. Sons of Perdition
4/5
This film goes into "The Crick", a Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints located in Colorado City. It centers around escapees from the community and their transition into mainstream America. It's a very honest look at the challenges of education, drug abuse and housing that these young people instantly face upon leaving the Crick with no contact or support from everything they used to know.

12. Wake Up
4/5
A surprisingly good documentary about a man who wakes up one day with the ability to see ghosts, spirits, demons and energy. The journey this guy goes on to try to cope and rediscover his spirituality with his ridiculously understanding girlfriend by his side really makes you connect to his story. At first I was pretty skeptical and distant from the idea, but by the end of the movie, whether or not you believe he can see these things has nothing to do with the empathy you feel for his personal journey. Definitely recommended.

11. Mario's Story
4/5
The story of wrongfully imprisoned young man who was convicted in the most ridiculously shitty trial ever and has now found his voice and salvation through writing. Obviously, I had a connection to someone expressing themselves through words, but the film also really goes into the frustrating and infuriating process of trying to appeal a wrongful conviction, no matter how ridiculous the initial trial was. A definite must see.

10. Wish me Away
4/5
The film follows the story of Cheryl Wright's rise to fame and struggle to keep her personal life secret as she came to terms with being a lesbian. The bravery, integrity and strength of Wright and the dramatic consequences she still faces as a member of the LGBT community as well as the world of country music reinforce the importance of immediate equality. So great and so relevant.

9. A Place at the Table
4/5
This follows the Food Insecurity crisis in America and the effects on the development of children in low income houses. It shows the massive holes in the government assistance provided for lower income houses and the correlating rise of childhood obesity. This movie was an informative, moving and clear representation of the crisis in this country and the people who are taking steps to change it.

8. Miss Representation
4/5
Feminism. Roles of media and body perception. Keeping young women focused on being healthy as opposed to skinny. This documentary was absolutely right up my alley. It had great information and a wonderful message. My biggest complaint with this was the incredibly dramatic interviews with middle schoolers crying for two minutes at a time and the unnaturally soothing voice of the narrator/documentarian. They just pulled me out of the experience entirely. I totally get how much middle school girls are affected by body image issues, I think they have very valid things to say in many cases, I don't want to listen to them cry over and over again. It just strikes me as over dramatizing a legitimate problem and making it less approachable to those not directly experiencing this on a daily basis. Also, as a Yoga teacher I of all people should know you have to control how calming and soothing you try to make your voice so it's comforting and not serial killer-y. Overall, I definitely enjoyed the movie, just wish it had been slightly less emotionally driven as the subject is incredibly emotional in itself.

7. Salinger
4/5
This film reveals the secret life of J.D. Salinger, discusses his work and dives into the scandals and controversies surrounding his work, lovers and the public reaction to The Catcher in the Rye. This one started off kind of slow for me, but eventually it got pretty interesting. Turns out that J.D. Salinger is like the world's WORST human being. Just absolutely god awful person to the people in his life. But, on a happier note, he has a lot of unpublished work (specifically the full chronicles of the Glass family and the Caulfield family) that was kept in a safe for after his death and they'll be released in the next few years.

6. A Necessary Death
4/5
So, this one isn't technically a documentary and maybe it's just because I thought it was a real documentary until about halfway through, but I absolutely loved it. The basic concept of the movie is a documentary following the making of a documentary about a person who has decided to commit suicide. It's super dramatic but very well done and I definitely would recommend it to someone who is just transitioning into watching documentaries from traditional fictional films.

5. Sound and Fury
4.5/5
In addition to the relevancy it has to the current project that I'm writing, I really connected to this film for the sheer complexity of the issue. It discusses the debate about getting a cochlear implant for a deaf child and how that affects the child and their relationship with the deaf community. To those in the hearing community that aren't terribly familiar with the conversation going on about cochlear implants, it's a really interesting and approachable look into the collision of the deaf and hearing world.

4. Crime After Crime
4.5/5
I loved this film. Very similar to the style of some of the other crime documentaries listed earlier. This is the story of Deborah Peagler, a severely abused housewife who was entirely trapped into her relationship despite her many attempts to escape the relationship. When the police left her to continue into her abusive marriage, she turned to a few men that her family said would scare him away from her, things got out of control and the men ended up killing him. She's then imprisoned for a life sentence and upon hearing her story, two incredibly dedicated attorneys stand by her side to fight against the poorly conducted investigation and trial to win her freedom.

3. I Am
5/5
This was written and directed by Tom Shadyac, director of Patch Adams, Ace Ventura, Liar Liar, and Bruce Almighty. After suffering from a traumatic brain injury from a biking accident, he underwent a massive life and philosophy change. He went on a journey to explore what matters most and how to live a life that's good for you, your community and the earth. Sounds a little hokey, but his comedic style and candor towards the idea of an enlightened coexistent society makes it both approachable and allows the more sentimental moments to be earned. Definite must see.

2. The Invisible War
5/5
Gorgeously portrayed movie about rape and sexual assault within the US military and the extreme delay in veterans benefits for disabled service members upon returning home. It interviews several veterans and details their attacks, reports, any disciplinary actions taken and political responses. Addresses the structural flaws in the reporting and trial systems in the armed forces and the progress it's made.

1. The Woman Who Wasn't There
17/5
I actually stayed an extra half hour so I could see how this one ended. This will really only be as shocking to you if you don't know the story of Tania Head. If you don't know her DON'T GOOGLE HER WATCH THIS MOVIE INSTEAD. It revolves around 9/11 without being political or offering theories and has probably the craziest twist ever. Stop reading this and go watch it, unless you already know the story, in which case, go find someone who doesn't and make them watch it.

That's all for now. I'll definitely get to watching more and maybe I'll post a second list.

"Hi, Mom. I'm totally fine and safe. Don't get mad, but I-" -or- Riot Fest 2013

"Hi, Mom. I'm totally fine and safe. Don't get mad, but I-"

A phone call my mother has received more times than I'd like to admit. It's a system we developed to spare her the three agonizing minutes of waiting to hear how much trouble her only daughter managed to get into this time. So, when I launch into a story involving police officers, less than sober decisions or broken bones, I always start with my immediate safety, go into the worst part, and then explain how I got there. And so I started.

A warm, comfy Friday evening. Wrapped up in warm blankets and glasses of wine, my roommate, a dear friend and I gleefully wandered through youtube, reliving our favorite angsty teen bands. As the instantly identifiable drum beats fill our apartment, we laugh in unison, collectively remembering inside jokes of our adolescence we shared with friends long lost. "I Miss You" by Blink-182, a unifying sigh of nostalgic comfort and another sip of wine.

Friend: You know they're playing tomorrow night, right?

Me: FD45SJKL45FAH3r2SU:GJKLDSASE{WR(*XVN

Roommate: No way! Where?

Me: JFLSDFa3AHHH

Friend: Riot fest. It's a huge three day music festival in Humboldt Park. I think it's sold out but you should check out craigslist!

(Flip coffee table over, punch through wall to get to bedroom, repeatedly throw face against the keyboard until finding tickets on craigslist)

Me: (from bedroom) Got 'em!

After a long day of napping to prepare for maximum concert enjoyment, the roommate and I were off. Two busses and about 40 stops later we pulled up to the packed park. Walking down the cracked sidewalk alongside hundreds of bikes stacked atop each other, we followed the large masses of pierced and dyed rockers, just barely hiding their 9-5 white collar looks beneath patched denim vests and combat boots. 

We walked through the camp absorbing the music, sweat and corn dogs in between long lines of hungry, half-stoned kids ranging from 14-65. As tradition follows, we paid 40% more money for 60% lower quality of food, but even our undercooked, flavorless shoestring potatoes they tried to market as fries still filled me with excitement. I was finally fulfilling step two of the plan my best friend and I hatched in eighth grade.

Step One: Get cars.

Step Two: See Blink-182 live.

Step Three: I marry Mark, She marries Tom.

Step Four:  Live the most awesome lives of all time.

After seeing/hearing bits of Taking Back Sunday, Public Enemy, Blondie and The Violent Femmes, we started camping out for Blink. We got there an hour early and rushed to as close to the front as we could, still about 30 yards from the front. In my experience, typical rock show protocol is as such: very front is super fans trying to get as close to the band as possible. Certainly rowdy and dancing but more focused on the music than trying to beat the shit out of each other. Then, there's the mosh pit. A large mass in the center of the crowd, aggressively flailing limbs around in search of pure adrenaline and endorphins. Finally, there's the rest of the audience from that point back. The swayers, the fist pumpers, the lip syncers, the iVideo recorders. In many (and preferably all) cases, there's a relatively clear division between these sections so no one gets pulled into the pit against their will. Unfortunately, the overwhelming mass of people, who had now entered their seventh hour of drinking, completely obliterated this notion. Within seconds, the crowd became crashing waves of sweat stained t-shirts and cigarettes burning just a little too close for comfort. This is when control started slipping away.

Lights shift on the stage. The now silent crowd deeply inhales in preparation. The band takes stage. The crowd bum rushes to the front, forcing the people in front to slam back from the gate and sending out shock waves. Realizing what's about to happen, the crowd begins to panic. Guys shielding their girlfriends run through lines of people paved together like a retaining wall. Tom DeLonge, the lead singer grabs the mic. A wave pulls me under. I struggle to pop my head back up, clinging to the arm of a man next to me. A cool sip of fresh air fills my lungs. I gain my balance back on my feet. "WHAT'S UP CHICAG-". The current pulls me under. It's getting hotter and progressively harder to breathe. I reach up and grab the shirt of the guy next to me. I pull myself up by his bicep, my nails digging into his skin, when a crowd surfer above tumbles on top of us and brings us both down. Climbing arms and legs like a tree in a park, I slowly work my way up to my feet. 

Me: I can't breathe. I have asthma. I need to get out of here.

Guy: What?

Me: I can't breathe. I need to get out.

Guy: It's okay, just breathe.

Me: I CAN'T. THAT'S THE PROBLEM.

Guy: You can, just relax.

Me: YOU ARE GOING TO GET ME OUT OF HERE NOW. 

Guy: Everyone, we're getting her up. Get over here.

I turn to see a girl sobbing next to me, her foot was trampled and people around her were trying to pick her up but there wasn't enough room to get her standing. I feel hands around my knees and I'm lifted atop the crowd, a familiar freedom I hadn't felt since my high school years. I hold my over-the-shoulder purse tight to my chest, making sure not to lose my phone/keys/id. I tumble over hands, heads, elbows and screaming girls clawing to get their way out, desperately reaching ahead to the front. As I swim through an unstable crowd waiting to collapse any minute, I feel a tug across my shoulder and quickly grab for my purse. The leather strap tightens around my neck and I start panicking. Flailing, gasping, kicking to get down until the person beneath me goes down with the weight of another escapee crowd surfer. I finally fall to the ground and rip the purse off my neck. Struggling for air, the heat, the panic and the purse have caused the first full-out Asthma attack I've had in years. After a few more yards of tumbling, crawling, reaching, I finally make it to the security in the front that has every person they can pulling people out and take them to the EMT's. A man carries me to the tent and onto a cot. I look around and there's close to 15 people around me with air masks, wrapped broken ankles and knees and bloody faces. They hook me up to a nebulizer with epinephrine for two rounds to get my breathing steady. I'm sitting on a cot, face covered in mascara and sweat, breathing through a tube, all in a city that I've lived in for just over two weeks. It started to click that this was one of those defining moments of me buttoning up the big girl pants. That's when things suddenly shifted.

A sweet looking girl, a little taller than me, with a doe-like face adorned with retro glasses sits next to me. She's also having an Asthma attack and is about to get a nebulizer, as well. Her fragile eyes dart around the room as her breathing quickens. Hyperventilating, reaching around her, terrified. Unable to speak due to the tube in my mouth and not knowing what else to do, I reached out my hand toward hers. We lock eyes and she slowly reaches out her hand to grab mine. Our focus now shifts to our clasped fingers, her chipped blue nail polish blending in with my bright purple. We stay like this for a long time as more and more people come into the tent. I finish two doses of epinephrine and am finally able to catch my breath. A paramedic kneels down in front of me.

Paramedic: You doing okay?

(I nod yes)

Paramedic: Things got pretty rough out there, huh?

(I nod again, the paramedic puts his hand on my shoulder)

Paramedic: You're okay now, you're safe.

When any person of authority comforts me, my inner 12 year old doesn't know how to handle it and just starts crying. I burst into tears on his shoulder for about three seconds before realizing that was super weird and quickly sit up. Tears slowly falling down my face, I feel a hand reaching out towards me. The asthmatic doe holds out her hand to me. I lay my face in her palm and we stay there for what felt like an hour of complete silence. Lights from an ambulance jolt me awake and I see all the beds filling up, someone had a seizure, someone was in a neck brace, the girl in front of me had her throat stepped on. I was clearly at a lower risk point so I moved to sit by the fence outside the tent with some others that couldn't be attended to. Luckily, I had gotten out before a lot of the more serious things came in so I was able to sit with people waiting.

I sit down on the dusty earth below the chain link fence, reminiscent of the dug out of neighborhood baseball fields, and start to catch my breath. There's a young girl, couldn't be more than sixteen years old, sitting next to me, shaking and softly crying. For whatever reason, my social competency filter was turned off and my first instinct was to throw my arms around her and try to get her to breathe with me. Soon, her breathing slowly calmed and she turns to look back at me, a mouth full of braces and large brown eyes. 

Girl: Hi.

Me: Hi. You okay?

Girl: I think so.

Me: What happened?

Girl: They trampled my ankle.

I look down to see a swollen deep purple and blue ankle, bursting out of her impossibly skinny jeans. I grabbed onto her again and elevated her foot with my purse (if for nothing else but to balance out its Karma after attempting to murder me) and went through Yoga breathing and meditation techniques to calm her down and steady her breath. We sat by the chain-link fence for another half hour or so until her dad and friend found us, they had been at a different part of the concert at the time and cellphone reception was notoriously horrible for everyone in the park. We carried her to her car and got her situated in the back. I turned around to see ambulances and firetrucks blocking the street. The bus had lines for at least two hours and I couldn't get a taxi through on the street. My roommate, not being able to find me after we were instantly separated in the crowd, managed to get on a bus right before everything got blocked off. 

Girl: Hey, Dad? Can we give Caity a ride home?
(Brief flashback to the Berenstain Bear's "Stranger Danger")

Me: Oh, no that's okay. I'll figure it out.

Dad: You shouldn't be alone in this neighborhood at night. We can drop you off at your house on the way home. 

Me: Don't worry, I can find a ride home some-

(Turn and see dads expensive, soccer-dad-esque car)

Me: Well, if you insist.

I enjoyed a safe trip back to my apartment, chatting with them about riot fest and living in Chicago. I rested my head on the seat belt and looked out the window, listening to my new friends chatter, watching Thai restaurants, pizza places and 7-Eleven's pass by. As tired, sore and generally upset as I was, I was filled with a warm sense of union. Union with my community for the help of the paramedics, union with my fellow concert goers for the gracious, kind hearts that opened up when they were called upon, and union with myself for being able to comfort others. Within minutes of meeting, these injured, scared, frustrated people were opening up to each other like family, the way concerts are intended to be. Smiles cracked through mascara stained cheeks. And as we sit pressed against the fence, beneath the sirens from the ambulance out front, you could just barely hear "I Miss You" playing yards ahead. I closed my eyes and shared this collective inside joke with strangers, that within minutes, became friends.

I would also like to proudly state that when I was being carried out of the pit to the medical tent, I got like 6 feet away from Mark Hoppus. So, I'm pretty sure we can cross off #3 on my to do list.

CS

My Last Night in Minnesota or A Letter to My 14 year-old Self

Tomorrow morning I will be a resident of Chicago, IL. I'll finally be diving head-first into the life I've been planning for years. I'll be starting my professional career and jumping into the blissful confusion of my twenty-somethings. As of tomorrow morning, my life is about to change in a huge way.

As I sit on my twin bed at my mom's house for the last time, my mind is running anxiously with bittersweet excitement. Knees tucked to chest, hair piled atop my head and soft kitten by my side. Warm memories of friendship, firsts and lessons learned are washing over me and leaving me lost in nostalgia. I'm also, however, feeling fear creep into my thoughts like a dull tone I try to drown out by busying myself. This is a fear that for years has been silently festering beneath my skin, veiled by a paper thin sheathe that, with the slightest pin prick, carves deep into the pits of my insecurities, the rooms I hide the darkest places I've been. This fear originated far before my college years, even before high school. The last bit of shame, resentment and hopelessness that I lived in during my 14th year of life is now the final force trying to pull me back underneath it, hiding me from my potential and future.

We all have that year. The year we find out how far down we can go before we hit rock bottom. The year we find out who we aren't so we can confirm who we are. The year the shit hits the fan and when all is said and done, you learn the true meaning of unconditional love from those that stood by you. For me, that was 9th grade. It made me a stronger, smarter, healthier person in the end, but as much as I'd like to say I've moved on completely, I still harbor much of the guilt, shame and insecurities that I acquired over that year. As I'm about to fully move onto the next stage of my life, I thought it might be nice to finally address the person who has been haunting me for years. Maybe she needs some comfort too.

So, without further delay,

A Letter to My 14 year-old Self:

Dear 14 year-old me,

I know you think this is super pretentious and lame, 22 year-old you kind of does too. But to be honest, we have some things to sort out and I want to share with you a thing or two I've learned over the past couple of years. So, let's both do our best to get through this as painlessly as possible.

By this point you've probably noticed that you're a sensitive person. And not in the typical "teenage drama" sensitive that you've been mistaken for, but you are inherently more in tune with other people's feelings and energy. From the way people look at you in the hallway down to the inflections in their speech, subtle tones or hesitation that are lost on others, scream out to you. You know that you're different, but you don't know when it started or how you can make it stop and finally be able to feel like everyone else does. You feel weak, dramatic and unintelligent. When you express your thoughts or impressions of things to others you're often seen as making a huge deal about something, or reading into things too much. While it's true that anyone, especially a 14 year-old girl in middle school, can over analyze things and jump to conclusions, what you're thinking and feeling is entirely valid and often accurate. Please know that one day this big, stupid heart of yours will give you the ability to surround yourself with wonderful friends and be fully loved and supported in return. It also gives you the ability to act and write. Seriously, I know you haven't ever seen a school play much less a professional production but trust me, you'll be all over it in about a year and a half.

Here are somethings I learned over the past couple of years that I wanted to share with you.

Middle school sucks. I know everyone tells you that and I know it doesn't make anything better. This isn't a condescending or minimizing statement of what you're facing, it's just a fact. Take comfort that you're almost at the end of one of the hardest challenges you will ever face. Things get harder in a different kind of way as you grow up, but you'll always know why you're going through it and for the most part you won't have to be surrounded by people who are cruel to you. Every little step forward further disperses the drama and gives you more control over who you're around.

Bullying is still the worst term I've found to describe what happened to you and many of your friends. It sounds so innocent and condescending. It's along the lines of "boys will be boys" or "kids can really be cruel sometimes" to comfort a child who dreads walking into school each day. Please know that there is not one person alive who knows enough about themselves or their lives to have the authority to tell you that you are less than. Unfortunately, I know this doesn't provide you any solace right now. Even at 22, I still remember the rumors, name calling, fake Myspace accounts made or the response to my typical angsty teenage Myspace post about "The 7 things I hate about School" (childish things such as homework or a horrible teacher). The list "The 7 things we hate about Caity"that was sent around the internet with details from words that I said frequently, the way I looked all the way down to the way I walk still haunts me in my more vulnerable moments. Getting grabbed at or shoved aside while you walk from class to class until you completely lost ownership of your body. You wouldn't have been dramatic or causing a scene by telling people to stop. It'll take you about another 6 years to realize that being touched in any non-consensual way isn't okay. Thanks for holding on and getting through each day even when more and more of your friends were turning to suicide. There aren't words to describe the beautiful people and experiences you would have missed. There are so many parts of you that you have no idea exist yet, parts I still don't know exist, and I'm so grateful to have the chance to discover them.

Your friends are mostly 14 year-old girls and therefore sometimes not the most consistent. Everyone is still figuring out how to care about each other and they're all fairly certain that if anyone knew how sensitive and vulnerable they can truly be, they would be instantly trampled in the race to social acceptance. This gets steadily better every single year of your life but you also start to appreciate that being friends with someone doesn't mean you have to perfectly align with every one of their quirks and tendencies. You'll have a lot of good friends that you're about 70% compatible with and during the other 30% you'll go to another 70% friend. This doesn't mean that they're bad friends or you're a horrible person for not loving certain parts of them. The more 70% friends you have, the larger community of people you have around you, as opposed to only pursuing friendships with best friends in the world and being lonely if you can't find them. No person is all good or all bad, you're a 70% friend to a lot of people yourself and life is so much better when you appreciate the good in the people around you.

Your appearance is irrelevant to your worth. Now write that on the chalkboard 3000 times. Completely let go of yourself and how you feel about the way you look and for a second think about someone you really care about. What makes them beautiful to you? It's probably something unique, something perhaps they find to be a flaw because it makes them different. There are people in this world who will love you right down to your morning breath and the long red strands that stick to the walls of the shower when you wash your hair. And trust me, they couldn't care less about what size jeans you wear. It will be 7 years before you start getting help for you body image issues and taking ownership of your beautiful body and I wish there was anything that could be done to make you realize that earlier.

Your Mom is a super hero. You have no idea how much she's doing to make sure you're able to experiment and find out who you are in your teenage years without letting you go too far off the edge. You grew up knowing that no matter how badly you messed up, how many classes you failed or nights you snuck out to ride in cars with boys Drew Barrymore style, you could always come home. You knew you were wanted. You knew you were loved. You knew that if you wanted to try something new, start a band, join gymnastics, switch schools, get a degree in theatre, you would have her complete support. I know this is a rough time for everyone in the family but I promise two years and a divorce later, your family will be less dramatic it ever has been. If possible, give her a break now and again and actually be home on time, preferably with no new piercings or cats.

Thank you for keeping up with writing. Throughout my time sorting and packing through everything I've ever owned this week, I found a collection of books I wrote with markers on construction paper at age 8. It's funny how I had no idea I wanted to be a writer until late high school when there were such obvious signs from day one. Who would ever imagine that the scribblings in your hot pink notebook would someday grow and transform into awards that you hang above your desk. Thank you for allowing that giant, messy, stupid heart of yours to keep growing and learning. Thank you for making it to 15 and allowing me to enjoy this wonderful life you worked so hard to create for me. Now, I'm going to try to start living it fully.

-Me

The weirdest 911 call I've ever had to make...

I've been wanting to write about this while it was happening over the last few days but ended up getting too busy taking care of my new little friends to actually have a chance. But at long last, here is the weirdest 911 call I've ever had to make and the events before and after.

I was just about finished serving tables at the restaurant I work at when one of our dishwashers came in for work. I was refilling the ice bin when I heard a group of people talking about kittens. As anyone who knows me (or has ever talked to me, seen me in public or seen my facebook) could have predicted, my ears perked up and I ran over to see what they were saying. Apparently, there were two ferrel kittens playing under my coworker's car. I quickly finished up my work and ran out to the car to begin what I would call for the rest of the day "Kitten Watch 2013". I climbed the hill up to the parking lot where the car was sitting and dramatically threw myself onto the pavement and crawled under the car (in Khaki's might I add, where's my Tony?) to find two tuxedo kittens, less than a pound each, crawling around the engine of this car. (For the remainder of this section, I'll be referring to the stuff under the hood of a car as the engine, I'm sure we can accept this and take it in stride). I got out a beach towel and downloaded an app that had cat sounds to try to lure the kittens out. One hopped out of the engine (again, bear with me) to check it out and upon seeing me crawled even further into an automotive kitten death trap. By this time I was fully scooted under the car, Wicked Witch of the East style, playing cat sounds from my iPhone and flailing around the strings from my work apron to get the cats out. This being one of my top five least attractive moments in public, naturally a person walks by. He was an older, blue-collar gentlemen that could only be described as a cross between "Rich Uncle Pennybags" from the Parker Brothers' game Monopoly and a homeless person. His quirky fanciness was perfectly accented by his walking companion, a miniature dachshund. For whimsy's sake, let's call this gentleman "Patches".

Patches: Whatcha doing down there?
Me: There's some kittens trapped in the engine!
Patches: How did they get inside the engine?
Me: Well, not the "engine" per se, they're in the-
(Remembering my devastating lack of car knowledge)
Me: I don't know they're under here somewhere.
Patches: Well, let's get 'em out! I'll grab some cat kibble!
(Patches exits potentially never to return again, but indeed, comes back with a cup of cat food)

After grabbing the keys from my lovely and apparently very trusting coworker, my new partner in rescue and I were determined. We popped the hood (see, I know some car lingo) and immediately found one kittens crawling around. I quickly grabbed the kitten and set it in the backseat of my car. At this point we had apparently caused a lot of attention and a police officer pulled up to check out a call about "two people trying to pull animals out of an abandoned car", thus definitively proving the real life lessons of the kindergarden game "telephone".

Luckily, this cop was also a lover of animals herself. After several vigorous attempts, at one point including Patches throwing himself under the hood of the car- literally feet off the ground, we managed to get hold of the other kitten and put them in the backseat of my car as well. The police officer said someone at "dispatch" (I learned cool police lingo too) might want to adopt the kittens, so I followed her up into the bowels of Duluth into some hidden building with a bronze statue of two police officers out front. Not kidding.

Now, I'm not exactly what you might call a "tidy" car owner. Essentially, there was a good chance that beneath art supplies, Yoga mats and energy drinks these kittens would never be heard from again. Eventually we found both kittens curled up under the drivers seat and were able to grab one of the kittens and place them in a box. (Pictured below with a handful of Patches' cat kibble)

After seeing it's sibling be taken by giant, scary humans, the other kitten ran around the backseat, through the passenger's side, up behind the glove box and completely disappeared. We couldn't see it, hear it or feel it anywhere in the car. We ended up calling for back up and eventually getting three police officers outside of dispatch trying to find this kitten somewhere in my car. When the new squad car pulled up I noticed that I recognized the male police officer but I couldn't be sure how. Then it hit me.

Me: Hey, I don't suppose you hypothetically answered a call from a screaming, crying crazy lady who hit a deer a couple months ago...?
(Brief silence)
Officer: Oh... that's you?
Me: Yeah, I'm so sorry. I promise I'm not as much of a menace to the Duluth animal population as it currently seems.
Officer: I did have to shoot the deer by the way.
Me: Oh... okay.
(Continue searching car in silence)

After an hour and a half the police finally determined that the kitten wasn't near the air vents or have anyway of falling out of the car towards a dangerous part of the engine (another suspension of judgment for my terminology) while I drove home. They told me I should put out some canned food and the kitten would naturally crawl out of the dashboard itself. While I didn't believe this was a terribly ideal or probable plan, this kitten had surpassed the entire Duluth police force so I was kind of out of options and drove home.

So, I get home. I decided the best plan of attack was to get the smelliest cat food and put it under the opening it supposedly went in and hid, and then, silently sitting in the driver's seat I played more cat sounds from my iPhone. This event, of course, also ranking in my top 5 least attractive moments in public. Unfortunately, this time I wasn't greeted by a fanciful man with a pocket full of tricks, just sadness and failure. Meanwhile, I built a mini kitten haven in my closet with food, a bed and a litter box made of a package I was sent in the mail. Walter was seriously unimpressed with the entire situation and turned to drinking and prescription pill use. (This picture was entirely accidentally posed and actually taken after he saw the kitten. Dead serious).

The kitten had now been in the dashboard for about two hours and I decided I needed back up from another cat lover and dear friend. My friend and I reached as far up as we could and we felt a furry little paw. Not moving, but there. After screaming and running around the drive way as I was sure I had a dead kitten in my dashboard, we decided to contact 911.. you know, again, and ask if we could go to the fire department.

Operator: 911, what's your emergency?

Me: Hi. Okay, first this isn't an emergency but I was wondering if I could reach the fire department.

Operator: Do you have a fire?

Me: Well, no. Actually I have a kitten. In the dashboard of my car.

Operator: A... what?

Me: A kitten.

Operator: In your where?

Me: In my dashboard.

(Brief pause of stifled laughter)

Operator: Okay. Well. I'll call the fire department and tell them you're on the way.

Me: Great, thank you so much.

Operator: Sure, and you can explain to them how...

Me: How I got a cat stuck in my dashboard? Yeah, I'll explain when I get there.

Operator: Good luck.

So, to the fire department we went. We explained the entire situation to the fireman that greeted us at the door and he said he would explain to his team because and I quote "Let me tell them so they believe it". We pulled into the fire station and were met with three phenomenal firemen who proceeded to disassemble my car until they could see the kitten. The somehow by the grace of god ALIVE kitten. They then took a compressed air gun and shot little bursts of air trying to scare the kitten out of the dashboard, inadvertently getting it more stuck. We continued to disassemble until we got to a point where we could reach the kitten. Problem was, I was the only one with small enough hands to reach it and I only had one shot. I reached my hand into the metal cavern somewhere behind the airbag of my car and pulled a screaming 7 week old kitten out of the car with only minor cuts to my hand and arm. And at last the kitten was safe. (Below the fabulous firemen helping us in our quest)

We took the kitten home and the two siblings instantly snuggled up to each other and fell asleep. The next day we took them to the vet and found out that "Dash" as we affectionately call her is a girl and "Henry David Purreaut" the first and much lower maintenance kitten is a boy. Because of a grant through MN government, kittens found in the 55812 zip code qualify for a free rabies shot, spay/neuter and a $20 feline leukemia test. The kittens tested negative for FeLu and are currently being fostered while they adjust from their trauma and get all fixed up. We are still in the process of figuring out the kitten's forever homes but they will not be separated or given away until they have calmed down and are healthy to do so. And thus ends an incredibly exhausting day and without a doubt the weirdest emergency experience I have ever encountered.

Here's a picture of the safe and happy siblings snuggling in their warm bed:

30-Second Plays (PART ONE):

I have a habit of frequently running into situations that while being entirely navigable to the socially aware, cause me to crash and burn in an awkward series of personal confessions to complete strangers and unfortunate sentences coming out of my face region. Like that one. While some would hide these uncomfy reminders of why you weren't popular in middle school, I prefer to post them on public forum.

I also have been privileged enough to surround myself with some phenomenally charming and bizzarre loved ones who both humor my sometimes failed attempts at being clever, while sprinkling in their bits of delightful banter along the way. From my upbeat, whimsical mother to my witty, sarcastic best friend and all of the wonderful characters that fall in between, I have some seriously amazing inspiration in my life. These are the mostly true 30 second plays:

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(At the hair salon)
Stylist: So you're a writer? What kind of stories do you like to write?
Me: They seem to be largely revolving around mental illness and dead children as of late.
Stylist: Oh.
(Resumes cutting hair in silence)

Because lying and saying "romantic comedies" would've just been too socially convenient.

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(Grammar day in Advanced Writing)

Professor: Note the use of "Which" in the example, "Dogs, which can be trained to do nearly anything, love to work and to play".
Me: Wait, so why can't you say "Dogs, who can be trained to do nearly anything"?
Professor: Because "who" only refers to people.
(Pause. Putting it together)
Me: And dogs... aren't... people...
Professor: You learn something new everyday. Moving on.

Liberal Education is hard.

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(Angry phone call with Landlord)

Me: I've been having problems with this for three months now. Century Link had to add a new location for me to get internet, I have all of my bills coming to this address but I can't get any of them if I don't have a mailbox.
Landlord: Your mailbox should be out front.
Me: It's not, there's only 4 mailboxes. I live in apartment 5.
Landlord: You live in apartment 4.
(Silence)
Me: Really?
Landlord: Really. There's only 4 units.
Me: I'm gonna go ahead and hang up now.
Landlord: Have a good night.

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(Mom about to leave for the grocery store)

Me: Can you grab me some DayQuil?
Mom: Cold medicine doesn't work. You just stop caring because you're high as a DayQuil kite.
Me: That's not even a little true.
Mom: High as a DayQuil kite.
Me: You really shouldn't be allowed to practice medicine.
Mom: DayQuil kite.

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(In line at the coffee shop in Minneapolis institute of Art. A man in a suit enters and stands next to the line, staring at the cashier)

Cashier: Can I help you sir?
Man: I'm looking for magic.
Cashier: Magic is everywhere.
(Man considers this)
Man: thank you.
(Man exits)

I either observed a beautiful artistic exchange or a drug deal.

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(Texting my mom)

Me: Walter's officially wearing an adult cat collar! I got him a fancy leather one. I'm so emotional.
Mom: Just wait until he's about to graduate from college...
Me: True. How come you never bought me fancy leather collars?
Mom: I wanted you to aim slightly higher than sideshow stripper.

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(Discussing text abbreviations with my best friend, Erin)

Erin: I pretty much text how I write.
Me: Yeah, the only one I really abbreviate is "cuz", because "because"-
(Brief silence. Eyes lock.)
Me/Erin: BECAUSE OF THE WONDERFUL THINGS HE DOES.

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(In line at the UMD food court)

Me: Hi, I'll have a soft shell taco please.
Food Court Lady: Do you mean a gyro?
Me: Why would I mean that?
Food Court Lady: This is The Daily Special. We don't sell tacos. We sell daily specials. Which is a gyro.
Me: Oh, I must be in the wrong line, sorry.
Food Court Lady: No, we actually got rid of the taco place.
(Holding up bag of Doritos)
Me: But I was going to make a taco in a bag!
Food Court Lady: You want gyro in a bag?
Me: I can't... I just... I have to go... 

(Emotionally run out of the food court, out of UMD and into my bed to cry forever)

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(Opening fortune cookies at a Thai restaurant with friend, Willis)

Willis: Wanna play the fortune cookie game?
Me: How?
Will: Add "in bed" to your fortune.
Me: "Do not stop dreaming, otherwise sleeping will become boring"... in bed.
Will: Okay, bad example.

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(At Olive Garden)

Friend: I don't mean to make a fuss but this cake is still partially frozen.
Waiter: Oh, I'm so sorry. I can take that back and put it in our de-thawer real quick.
(Blank stare)
Waiter: This happens with our desserts sometimes and we just de-thaw it. It's like a box...
Friend: Is it a microwave?
Waiter: Yeah, it's a microwave.

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Glitter and Rainbows,

Caity Shea

www.CaitySheaViolette.com

The Finish Line

I think we can all agree that I'm the world's least consistent blogger. Seriously. Just the absolute worst. I'd love to be a witty internet personality, but life keeps happening in wonderfully (and sometimes less wonderfully) distracting ways. So, I'm trying to get back into it again.

I'm in a terribly reflective and dramatic mood. One of those moods that you call up some one who used to be important to you and pour your heart out to them and ask them about their life and where they are in the world. Fortunately, I've done that enough times to know that it never turns out the romantic, cinematic way you think it will and instead usually catches them when they're in a movie or at a bar and they think you're calling to tell them someone died, not just "say hi and catch up". So, I'll turn to the more socially safe (maybe?) method of blogging.

I'm graduating from undergrad in a few months. Which feels awesome and liberating and terrifying and too soon and not soon enough and overall, earth-shatteringly cliché. But at any rate, it's having me think a lot about what I think is important. Who do I want to stay in contact with? Which severed friendships are worth salvaging for the sake of nostalgia? How hard is moving away from the state I grew up in? Am I good enough to make it in a professional market? At what age is it no longer okay to call your parents up crying because you can't figure out how to silence your smoke detector? Was that three years ago? Stuff like that.

Mostly I've been thinking about what kind of a person I want to be and how I want to affect the people around me. I try to figure it out by looking at the things that people around me have done and how they made me feel. I know that people being generally kind and inclusive makes me feel accepted and worthwhile. I know the performers who don't feel a need to prove their worth but rather allow their work to show their talent inspire me more than those who try to cut others down. I also know that I think people who take risks and are willing to fail and be a beginner at things seem a lot braver and learn a lot more than those who sit back and pretend to be smart and experienced from a distance.

I know I want to be a dependable and supportive friend, partner and family member. I know I want to be a hardworking and smart performer and writer. I know I want to tell stories that give people a chance to see the world from another perspective. I know I want to be a good teacher and student. And above all, I never want anyone to feel that they have to earn my kindness and acceptance. And none of these qualities rely on the approval or acceptance of others, so maybe I can spend less of my time to thinking about how others perceive me and whether or not they deem me worthy? I'm hoping finish off my undergrad years by focusing on these goals and letting go of the people and inhibitions that hold me back from them.

Here's to the finish line.

Rhinestones and Feathers,

Caity Shea