“I never have actual external panic attacks, probably because of my acute fear of embarrassing myself, but I have multiple internal ones.”
Pen Calloway in Falling Together by Marisa de los Santos
I don’t emote well. The majority of my emotions happen nice and quiet inside my head, so that while it may look like I’m all calm on the outside, inside I am freaking the fuck out to a degree of such horrific and ridiculous proportions that if it were to happen externally I would be locked up and omg who would take care of the cat? He’s delicate and they need to know that he doesn’t like it when you pick him up, but he prefers to be called Mr. Snugglepants von Kittyface. And fuck the cat who is going to delete my internet history? Dating is going to be so much harder from inside a padded room.
And so on and so forth and I think we get the crazypants idea.
This means, however that even when I’m so happy it would make even the sappiest of saps want to throw up I have to remind myself, On the outside, fool! On the outside! so I don’t look like some soulless robot incapable of feelings. This also goes for all sad and mad feelings. If you annoy me at a restaurant I will do my duty as a passive aggressive human to glare menacingly and pointedly at you from my table. If you cut in front of me in line at the store? I will huff and puff in silence will wishing terrible things to happen to you. If you stand within my hula hoop of personal space I will hum The Police’s “Don’t Stand So Close To Me” in hopes that you will back. the. fuck. up.
That is, until you put me in a movie theater. Apparently all bets are off once inside a dimly lit room with red velvet seats arranged in stadium seating and hey nobody look to closely at those questionable stains.
Here’s the deal folks. This is a quiet space. This is a bubble on your lips (oh hey! I used to teach preschool, it doesn’t show does it?) type of environment. I did not pay $10 just to walk in the door and then
sneak in snacks $10 more for a small popcorn and a small drink just to listen to you talk. You want to talk? Do it at home. And hey parents? You want to bring your small children to a gory, scary, R rated movie? I get that. I saw Poltergeist when I was 7. FROM MY OWN COUCH. Do your bad parenting at home.
I know some of you moviegoers are big emoters. In fact, some of you are the say every thought I ever have right out loud without any sort of internal filter type. Yes, yes she did just walk under that ladder. No, no it’s probably not good. Yes, they clearly like each other. OMG STOP RECOUNTING THE ENTIRE GODDAMN MOVIE OUTLOUD YOU NOISY NOISY PERSON YOU. Look, I’ve been watching the same movie you have. I don’t need or want or HAVE ANY SMALL TYPE OF DESIRE to hear you narrate the movie. And you over there, with the cell phone? TURN IT OFF RIGHT THE HELL NOW. Why on God’s green Earth would you answer your phone during the movie? WHY?!
And then there are the teenagers. Sweet dancing hamsters who let a pack of ferral teens into my movie? 90 of them in an R rated movie with ONE measly adult who is going to sit 30 rows away from them because even though one of them is probably hers she wants NOTHING to do with them. Who is raising these heathens? I am going to teach a class, starting in middle school about how to properly conduct yourself in a movie theater. And should I ever get knocked up and that offspring goes off to act A FOOL (A FOOL!) in a movie theater? I will embarrass the fruit of my loins so thoroughly and deeply that she will no doubt be talking about it for years to come in therapy.
Which is why when I saw Paranormal Activity 3 after almost an entire movie’s worth of shushing and, Could you maybe please stop talking? I’m not sure if what just jumped out of the closet is an actual spirit or the mom and, kindly cease with the talking I need to know what that thump was and, shut the hell up, ZOMG YOU ANIMALS and, YOU ARE IN A MOVIE THEATER! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU! and, No seriously, for the love of god be quiet and I felt the dull thud of movie candy hitting the back of my head FLAMES….FLAMES ON THE SIDES OF MY FACE and then my head popped clear off my neck, spun around and shot out green goo exorcist style and that’s how I got two entire rows kicked out of a movie. I’m pretty sure Sarah didn’t know whether to laugh or hide. Another friend compared it to the Miss Piggy freakout they show before the movie, except with more cursing.
Neither of them were wrong.