Ask Me Anything...Undiscovered Gyrl Review, Great Fiction

 

I've caught up on movie-watching these past few weeks. I stumbled onto, "Ask Me Anything", the movie version of the best selling book, "Undiscovered Gyrl", written by Mr. Allison Burnett. Mr. Burnett also directed the film version. I strategically use the term, "Mr." to clearly identify Burnett is a guy, a guy who somehow, most stupefying to me and thee, is able to accurately display the intricate, the warped, the mystical workings of a young female mind.

 Brittany Robertson brilliantly portrays the main character, Katie Kampenfelt, who tells her story via her blog, "Undiscovered Gyrl." I wasn't sure what to make of the film, so I watched it twice. I was intrigued, grossed out, surprised and heartbroken. Katie exemplifies the sad virtues of a girl abused as a child. Her want of older men, dissatisfaction with self, suicidal tendencies and promiscuity all point to the typical sexually abused.

 This book is pure fiction, a statement that may be hard to believe given the twists and turns of a story that never stops revealing. Mr. Burnett is to be commended for producing a most fascinating and intriguing story that could easily be thought of as the female version of "The Catcher in the Rye." I can only imagine that Katie is a symbolic representation of tens of thousands of American teens. The ugly secret of childhood sexual abuse arises, mid-story, and turns front and center. As a childhood sexual abuse survivor, I heartily applaud Mr. Burnett. Too few stories truthfully exclaim the enormous dysfunction, sorrow and pain that follow abuse survivors their entire life. 

 The movie is gritty, raw, honest and holds nothing back. It's definitely for mature audiences, late teens and up. The subject matter isn't for the sensitive souls.

 Oh, there are other actors clogging the screen. Martin Sheen with his ever present love of cigarettes; Christian Slater and his bad boy charm; Robert Patrick as the washed-up, foul talking alcoholic absent father. Speaking of fathers, Katie's moms boyfriend, Mark, played by the mustached Andy Buckley, presented me with the most moving scene in the whole film. Katie is being attacked and Mark forcefully steps in to protect her. That's just the survivor in me talking, but I was deeply touched that a non-biological male would step up to protect a young girl.

 There isn't a lot of judgement or finger-pointing regarding Katie's erratic behavior, rather...a number of people seem genuinely concerned and are trying to help her.

 I very much enjoyed this movie. It enlightened me. I would like to read the book. Thanks Allison

The Firewalker Speaks, favorite post from 12/10

Confessions of a Firewalker..The Phoenix Speaks

You know...sometime really, really soon, I want to give up a life of walking tightropes, breaking barriers and surviving the flames of disasters. Even though I have surely earned my Super hero cape..I would relish the thought of hanging it up in the closet and watching it collect dust, Yeah, it would sit next to the suit of armor I put in there about...oh, seven years ago. Some things Do Belong in the closet...I'm not one of them, but my unused suits and costumes are.
I have outgrown the need to constantly fend off attackers. I broke apart the castle long ago and emptied the moat along with it. Standing naked, the armor was much needed and revered. Not only did it protect against physical attacks but emotional ones as well. Then I outgrew it and retired it to its current place of honor.
The next best thing...a Superhero cape. Of course, it is red and made of heavy duty, flame resistant flannel:) And I have been waving it around quite a bit these days, heavily using its powers of strength, invisibility, resilience and stamina. It definitely comes in handy and I wear it the majority of the time...But
But, someday I would really like to hang it up. I've grown rather annoyed at the constantly having to prove just how much garbage I can handle and deal with effectively. Okay! I know I am strong and capable and have withstood many a violent, traumatic battle. I think I have proven my mettle and courage, folks. I don't have anything more to prove to anyone...heck, I Know I don't have anything to prove to Anyone Anymore.
Personally, I'm good with who I am and what I have accomplished and would rather like to give up this whole "battle readiness thingy". I don't care to be always looking for a good fight just so that I can "win" and overcome obstacles that would devastate the average human. Enough already.
Yeah, it seems like I have visited and lived in some of the most unpleasant of places.
I am looking forward, someday, to hanging up the cape..But right now its keeping me warm.

Favorite Post

Tuesday, December 28, 2010 The Alien Observes..Anger, Hurt, Love Sex  I have observed a number of things... People that are angry are hurt, in pain. They lash out at everyone, blindly, erroneously, swinging fists with eyes closed. Someone hurt them really bad. (I'm talking about those people who seem angry most of the time)And they can't get a grip on it...can't seem to come to terms with it and release their pain in an alternative way. Angry individuals are hurting. Frustration seems to be when someone or something fails to meet some expectation that we have...like a dream unfulfilled. Or when we ourselves, fail to reach a goal. I often Wonder how much I am supposed to allow others to lead their own lives and if and when I am supposed to intervene. Where is the line between being an individual and making ones own choices and allowing someone to do an act which the observer feels is wrong? What is right and wrong anyway, but a subjective point of view? Love and sex. I've noticed that some people equate having sex as being in love, wherein sex becomes some sort of tool in which one can "get love". I don't believe that to be true. Many people who are having sex are no where near love and vice versa. Pain and Love are both HUGE words with a multitude of degrees and meanings, intensities and levels. To say one of them is to whisper into a crowded room...the meaning is only clear to those who can hear it..in a sense, grasp and understand the place in which it is spoken. Alcohol, drugs, excess, its all a pain-killer, something that is hidden or that we are uncomfortable with. Often I think of addiction as a very strange, warped band-aid that is trying so hard to cover up something that we don't like about ourselves...usually it's false expectations imposed upon someone by another. I find it hard to believe that we could have ever done something so awful that we have to hide from ourselves in shame. Or cover it up and try and bury it. Why do we consistently find our every little fault and drag out the magnifying glass? Why do we pick on and berate ourselves for being human? I don't get it. Learned behavior, mostly? The caged bird can sing if it wants

If you ever fall in love...

Living Alone

 I've often thought that for an Aspie, living alone would be the best option. Aspies typically have a very high need for privacy. It's hard to live with someone when you are a highly sensitive being that requires large amounts of quiet, rest and down time.
  It's difficult to constantly conform to what others want and expect you to do. I dislike having to explain my quirks, eccentricities and aversions. I miss the autonomy of my autism. I miss the privacy and security of having a room of my own whereby I can shut my door and withdraw from the chaotic, outer world undisturbed. I require enormous time to think, process and just figure things out.
 I miss being able to work on my projects, leaving them around half-done without being in someone's way and feeling pressured to clean up my mess.
 Did I mention that I miss having my own room? I sleep on the couch. I have for years because the two downstairs bedrooms are occupied with occupants. The only option for a room to call mine is upstairs, up 14 stairs. Yeah, up the stairs which is impossible given my strength and energy level due to illness, so we just let sick girl rough it on the couch, in the middle of the house, the noise, the high traffic, no privacy area.
 I've always felt like a guest in someone else's house.
I remember when I has a place to call my own. It was a little two bedroom apartment in a subsidized complex. It wasn't much but it was mine. It felt like I could be myself, like I was in charge, owner of my own destiny not a guest in the mansion.
 Maybe my values are changing. Maybe I'm getting lost in someone else's world...or maybe I've been lost there a good long time and I'm just becoming aware of it.
 Just thinking out loud

I don't want to sleep

Nothing but night terrors this week.

Same shit, different day

I've decided to stop drowning

Poetry for the Soul, Empty Life

I have dreams, archaic, Utopian dreams

Insignificant is the empty word of love

Eating Habits & Spices...truth + humor