WW84: The Review

**Before you go any further, please understand THIS REVIEW INCLUDES SPOILERS.** 

The "No Man's Land" scene of Wonder Woman remains one of my favorites in my personal cinematic experience. So for me, the bar was set really high for this sequel, as is the case for most sequels (that's why they exist). When it finally dropped last week, I was hesitant to even sit thru it in fear that I would hate it and I didn't want to hate it. (Case & point, I binged the Mission Impossible franchise this year with the intention of hating it and I loved it even though I wanted to hate it. These situations can backfire quickly for me in my head lol). 

I want to preface the next part of this piece by saying that in the ravenous MCU vs DCEU battle royale, I am a ride or die member of Team MCU. I've gone so far as to use the MCU as a basis for a project in grad school where I built an entire training & development curriculum around leadership based on the MCU (which I then used to land my current job). That being said, I don't innately hate all things DCEU simply for being DCEU but for transparency purposes, you should know that I've watched the entirety of the MCU several times over versus the number of times I've given a DCEU a run thru. But I also fervently stand in the irrefutable truth that comparing both franchises does an immeasurable disservice to not just the respective franchises but their fandoms as well. 

All of that so simply say this: I loved WW84. 

Greed is NOT good. 

What I think this movie did well for being a movie in the realm of superheroes is that its villains were regular people who started out with earnest motives that took them on the path to being Mayors of Villain Valley (I just made that up, it's not a real place). We have all been witness to and/or participated in endless arguments about freedoms and rights but they all boil down to very simple points: you either care about your neighbor or you care about yourself which is a learned behavior and it turns out also very deadly. There is no greater threat to humans than what other humans will do in the name of "this matters/I matter more than you". The means to the end matter and this movie gives you an example of that in 4k. 

Barbara Minerva just wants to be extraordinary & who can't relate to that? Who's to say if any of us had the chance to be mf Wonder Woman we wouldn't respectfully lose our shit trying to hold on to that? I empathize with her motivation to contain that sense of empowerment. It turns her into a villain the second the wanting to hold on to it becomes destructive. I really hope that Kirsten Wig's portrayal of Cheetah will leverage her more roles with a wider range than just comedy. She was phenomenal in this role. 

And let's not forget our main guy Maxwell Lord (that poor bastard lol) played by Chilean superstar Pedro Pascal. This guy used the golden era of Wallstreet as a permission slip to be all he can be and it turned him into a mad scientist on the quest for world domination. But in the end, he chooses his kid over world domination, and how many supernatural villains can say that? (I'm looking at you, Thanos.) For Pedro Pascal, this role was the way to further break into Hollywood's major movie league. 

Cause & effect: be mindful of your actions or you will be destructive. 

Your thoughts turn into feelings which turn into actions. That's what these "wishes" are: they are physical manifestations of thoughts about that thing that each person thinks will be it for them and the actions (aka consequences) that follow as a result turn into a shit show. This is a particularly fitting theme to explore in a year that has brought us a Bingo card of fuckery curveballs. WW84 isn't exactly subtle in showing you how quickly we can crumble when we focus on what the I wants and neverminds the direct effects of that. Not that the reminder was necessary but it was fun to see it play out just the same. 

You can do everything right & rightfully deserve a happy ending but still not get it. 

Diana & Steve are heroes in their own right who are very much in love and the fact that they are heroes is why they don't get a happy ending which frankly wtf, right? Let love win, Patty Jenkins! But I really like that it was simple: stay together and watch the world burn to the ground or willfully walk away from a love so deep it was molecular just so that humanity could survive.  It reminded me of the tragedy of Buffy & Angel's love story & how those two champions had also earned a handsome reward in the shape of each other and their love and it just never worked out because the greater good would always pay the price for true love. 

I legitimately don't understand why it is this way. Like shouldn't we all get what we deserve? Shouldn't all "the right" choices lead to the thing? To the handsome reward or the love of your life or peace or whatever it is you desperately need but never say out loud?

Because logic dictates that if you do everything right, for no other reason than it is just the right thing to do, the end result should be the happy ending that you not only want but justly deserve, no? But that's just not true and it fucking sucks every time you realize it. 

And let me make it real for a sec: it will never be right that thousands of families have had to say goodbye to their loved ones over fucking Facetime. Not one of those families or patients deserved that. But that's just wtf they got, didn't they? 

Why do people in positions of power get to willfully operate with a deficit level of integrity and get away with it? Wtf is that? Where is the justice there? If you're an asshole, you should immediately receive asshole results. But it never works out that way it seems. 

Someone make it make fucking sense.

So I stand for Diana & Steve's love story because it's not about love. It's about the that sacrificing isn't just for heroes but for humans too and it sucks human sometimes. And this lesson while unfair is necessary for Diana's story. The way Steve loves Diana makes her a better hero because of the way they loved each other and that ultimately saves the world this time and I suspect for many times to come. Steve is every bit as necessary to Diana as is her golden eagle armor. Their goodbye scene was brutal & beautiful to witness and it gave language to what is equal parts true and torturous: a happy ending is the exception, not the rule. But nevertheless, your sacrifice & pain always have a purpose for the greater good if you use it right. 

The grass is not always greener. 

So often we think that our happiness is on the other side of our "wishes" without realizing that we already have everything inside of us to be whole. Minerva did not grow into her powers & Diana is groomed into her powers and consequentially, they both turn out to be completely different people. Minerva could've been fully in her power if she had just decided to. She had multiple degrees, an awesome job, already beautiful and capable to rock high heels and bomb dress. Her wish was a permission slip more than anything else. Brute power is not going to put anyone in a good headspace to think clearly. It sounds like bullshit but I know it to be true: everything that holds the universe together lives inside of you. Just take a look & it's already there. 

Now I've spent enough time in the superhero fandom to understand the reaction is clear and decisive to these movies. I've gathered that there are a lot of people who quite frankly loathe this movie. The truth is that whatever way you feel about this movie is true and valid. If you hated it, then hate it and never watch it again. No harm, no foul.  But I'd like to hear reasoning that makes sense and so far none of it has. The criticism I've heard for this film is equal to that of going on a date and coming home saying you hated the person's ears and you're never talking to them again. I need something deeper than "I don't like her hair" and I haven't heard anything that has made me stop and go "Yeah okay, I'll give you that one". Sometimes you just have to let a movie be a movie and leave it alone. 

The impact this pandemic will have on the way Hollywood operates will be particularly interesting to follow. WW84 was the first one to premiere in the uncharted waters of a post-COVID Hollywood and it's getting a lot more heat for nuances than it should. It experienced several delays and it did not have a red carpet premiere or rapid-fire press circuits we're used to as an audience (junkets, Fallon, Kimmel, Ellen, etc.). This is also a blockbuster and blockbusters are meant for movie theaters, not our living rooms. And let's just face it, collectively, we are not the same movie audience we were in January 2020. There is a before/after to living through a pandemic that will impact (among other things) our movie-watching experience for the foreseeable future. We are all living a version of this pandemic that has been brutal. You don't even have to have personally had COVID to have this pandemic change everything in a matter of months, in some cases weeks. I think it's fair to say that 2020 has managed to steal a lot away from us and in one of the most superficial ways, our entertainment experience is on that list. And WW84 was the first to explore these uncharted waters. 

Just something to consider. 

What's it called?

❌{NSFW & TW: Abuse & Assault}❌

I am touch-deprived. Which is to say that I’m starving for affection. Like you wouldn't believe.

 

I’ve been avoiding naming it because it makes me feel weak to need anyone. But fuck do I need a man in my life. 

 

Safe, warm, wanted, whole, sexy, beautiful, feeling alive: this is the vacation I need. 

What is it called when aside from just being a means to an end to the only man you thought you loved, you also endure emotional and physical abuse? What’s it called when he puts food in your face the way dogs get their bowls in their face because he says "he knows" shoving food in your mouth will get you out of a bad mood? What’s it called when someone you love yells at you on the streets of NYC to walk faster because you’re slowing him down? What’s it called when he abandons you in every conceivable way without ever physically leaving you? And it doesn’t stop the whole fucking time and it's not the only thing that is happening? And he blames you for all of it & tells you he'll stop all of it if you'll sleep with him but you can't bring yourself to give in to your abuser? What’s it called when get assaulted for laying down in your bed next to your husband & he thinks that is consent by default. Every. Single. Time. So you sleep on a couch for 2 years so it stops?

What's it called when your body has been through so much emotional and physical trauma that you can't keep a dating app on your phone for more than a few hours at a time? And you can't say any of it out loud because they can either laugh, call you a liar, or pity you and you'd rather be dead than experiencing any of the three? 

 

What’s it called? 

None of it was safe, warm, wanted, whole, sexy, beautiful or made me feel alive. 

 

What’s it called when you’ve never felt any of those things. Not from your man or your parents or your home or your skin? What's it called when the handful of people that ever truly loved you are currently at a high risk of dying or already dead? And you can't get to them in time to be loved by them one last time? 

What’s that called? 

 

Because I’m metaphorically fucking dying and wondering maybe this isn’t just something that is meant for me to experience. And how do I live the rest of my life with this undercurrent of deprivation?

 

Have patience, you say?

More waiting? More sitting still? More thinking about it? More calling it to me through my Spotify playlists? More calling it to me with books or movies or tv shows? More calling it to me in thought & meditation? In my recurring dreams? 

I'm going through a pandemic by my fucking self in 250 square feet of space. 

 

What’s it called when all of this is stacked against you & what you need more than anything else in the world is safety, warmth, to be wanted/healthy-needed, to feel whole, feel sexy, feel beautiful and to be held? But it's a matter of public safety on a global scale that you avoid the thing you need more than anything else?

How the fuck is this going to happen for me, huh? If I'm a magnet for everything but this. 

Everything but a man who can grab you by your thighs and take you right there because you both can’t wait another second? A man who knows what he’s doing with his life & in your bedroom. Who sees you (really sees) before, during & after and gives you what you need & doesn’t need you past being their partner. A man who protects you not because you’re weak or he’s possessive but it simply fucking matters to him that you are okay & well for no other reason other than it's what keeps him well? 

 

What is all of this called?

You Can't Sit With Us

Back when I worked at Versailles for a few years, customers would ask me where I was from, and when I answered, I would always get a very confusing reaction. "Que mezcla" ("What a mix") which was baffling to me as a 17-year-old. Eventually, I learned it was because of the political notoriety Cubans and Chileans hold respectfully. But I think the reaction goes a little deeper, to be honest.  
In 2019, it was reported by Chileans in the U.S. that there are a little over 17,000 Chileans living in Miami, the 2nd highest population in the country (#1 being NYC).  But my mother moved to Miami in 1979 which means the number of Chileans living in Miami at that time probably fit in one Sabores Chilenos with room to spare.  
My family in Chile was a crucial part of my childhood and who I am to this day. My grandparents raised 6 children on middle-class salaries in Chile, they survived countless economic recessions and political hurdles like the Pinochet regime.  My grandfather lost his job at Coca-Cola for simply being accused of opposing the Pinochet regime and as a result, my family spent countless sleepless nights where they fully expected him to be arrested and never be seen again, a population that came to be known as Los Desaparecidos. I only had my grandfather in my life for the first 5 years of my life before he was taken from me by a car accident but I think about him every single day & dream with him more often than not.  
 
I lived with my grandparents a few times and would visit often visit Chile during summer and Christmas breaks when I was a kid. I'm told that I used to go into the neighbor's garden and pick tomatoes and eat them raw and then get busted with a full tomato face. And when I would get busted being mischievous, I apparently invented an apology in another language that would get me out of it real fast. I would often sit on my grandfather's lap while he listened to talk radio. He shared his headphones with me but I always chose to put my ear over his heart and listen to that instead of what the grown-ups were yelling about on the radio. My grandmother took me to the playground down the block of their house every day (we survived an earthquake just us two in that park but that story is for another day). My aunts and uncles loved me relentlessly and my grandparent’s house was my very own princess castle. I was loved a lot and well by my Chilean family. 
The last time I was there for an extended period of time was in September of 2001. I had just graduated high school that June and wasn't starting college until the Spring semester so I gifted myself an extended trip. That visit is hands down the best one I've ever had. I was old enough to be so cool and drink smoke cigarettes, and hang out until late into the night with my aunt Paula & uncle Leo (who are the equivalent of my own personal versions of Aunt Becky and Uncle Jesse) because they were so cool and that made me so cool. There were family trips to the beaches (Maitencillo and Viña del Mar) and to the breathtaking Chilean seaport known as Valparaiso. My cousins and I would escape on endless adventures together. Chile holds a place in my soul that has been vacant for 14 long years. That's how long it's been since I've visited and I could go from zero to tears if I let myself think about it for too long.  But funny enough, my Chilean family finds me too Cuban-American to really be Chilean.  
 
My father is Cuban. He came to this country on The Mariel. He has a few sisters and a brother. But I don't know anything about my Cuban family's story. Nothing. I don't know what life was like for them on the island or how the rest of my Cuban bloodline came to this country. I don't know their struggles or victories or familial stories/traditions. Half of my genetic and 1/3 of my cultural DNA is a complete mystery to me. Not by design but because that's how it has worked out. Nevertheless, I have questions that I would love answered.  What are my Cuban roots? Did my family own a business? Were they ever political prisoners? What were my paternal grandparents like? How many paternal cousins do I have? I hold on to pieces of my Cuban identity thru documentaries and podcasts and hearing stories from other Cuban elders. And while I don't know my Cuban elders' stories,  I still feel fully Cuban in my own right even if the Cuban community rejects me for being a half-breed.  
 
Being born in this country, I hold the cultural traditions that make me American beyond the geographic technicality that blesses me as an American citizen. Pop culture and gluttony and hyperbolic existence with no working knowledge of the concepts of intangible pleasures or sitting still. My favorite meal is a burger & fries, cheesecake is life and my fave rock band is Aerosmith. I can karaoke the shit out of most classic rock songs & the second I get over my stage fright, I will. I am proud to say that I am a full-fledged "Disney Adult" and ABC's TGIF lineup was everything when I was a kid (as was Full House and anything else on UPN). When I'm older, I would love to be a Golden Girl...any of them I don't care they're all iconic. 
I'm proud as hell to be American. We are not a perfect country but no perfect country exists. And I don't reject American exceptionalism because I hate us. The idea that we should look at our country's history with accountability, honestly, fully in all the gore, horrors, victories and beauty, and say "We can do better" is in fact what makes us great. We have to stop debating whether each other's experiences and pain are true and instead empathetically listen and move forward with the resolve to do better by each other. But by my country's standards, I am part of a population that is staining the American flag. I am part of "the problem". But see you can't tell me to go back to where I come from because this is literally where I'm from even if you hate me for simply existing. 
 
So where can I sit?  
 
If I'm too Cuban-American for my Chilean side, not Cuban enough for my Cuban bloodline, and rejected by my home country...where exactly can I sit? 
And I suppose the issue of where I belong goes a little deeper for me because doesn't it always lol.  Because of the complexities of abuse is the "cat & mouse" paradigm of rejection & acceptance. And part of healing your identity of an abusee is that you have to stop playing all of the paradigms of it on someone else's field. 

I can stop being my parents' kid and stand in my full adult present self. Now we're playing on my field. 

I can speak up for myself when boundaries are repeatedly crossed or disrespected. And you have every right to get mad about it but now we're playing on my field.

Quite the enjoyable muscle to flex once you start using it I must tell you.  
So my remaining options regarding where I can sit in my cultural identity is to either ask to sit at your table or build my own. And the thing is the people I admire the most are people who are firmly rooted fully in who they are. They live centered from the truest essence of their soul and they build literally everything from that place outwardly. 

Beyonce, Glennon Doyle, Oprah, Cheryl Strayed, Elizabeth Gilbert, Brene Brown, The Rock, Dwayne Wade, Justina Machado, Gloria Calderon-Kellet, Gloria Estefan, Pedro Pascual, Celia Cruz, Pablo Neruda, Laverne Cox, Alexander Hamilton & the rest of the founding fathers...
Nobody ever asked them to sit with them. They built their dam own table. And that's what I intend to do at every possible chance. 

So pull up a chair and sit with me. 

Everyone is welcome. 

Be Still

Last night I broke my "10 minutes of news limit" rule and it sent me places mentally. My emotional pendulum swings from complete outrage to absolute devastation for everyone involved in this pandemic on the front lines. Nurses, doctors, hospital staff, teachers, grocery store employees…I could list them all but I swear I could cry for each one of them individually. 

The absolute lack of control any of us have is so brutal it's almost debilitating for me to process. My specific anxiety issues are triggered by lack of control and feeling unsafe. Let's just say I've been on high alert for a few weeks now. And I'm living through a very cushy version of this pandemic.  

I guess it's a cosmic joke that I declare this beautiful current of momentum in my life on my birthday and the mayor shuts down the city the same exact day lol. There was an order of events I was banking on and now I don't know anything. My friends keep telling me that I have a right to feel how I feel. That my feelings are valid. And I know that they are right but I still feel so guilty for being disappointed that this year is rolling out the way that it is. 

But what is that compared to people dying alone? Or nurses and doctors emotionally bruised and battered by bearing the brunt of this monster of a situation? Or kids missing their school and their teachers? The stress that parents are enduring from becoming teachers over night? The economic uncertainty that tough times bring and the absolute chaos in can cause from one day to the next. People are being transported in industrialized sized vehicles after they're gone like they were just meat bags and not someone's sister or brother or mother or best friend or aunt or uncle or husband or wife. The idea that someone I love could be taken from me could break me on a regular day but these scenarios are just too much for my brain to handle. And if there was a safe way for me to be a bedside buddy for COVID patients, I swear I would quit my whole life and do it. But there isn't. I am benched. 

I've been dealing with anxiety since I was in 6th grade and I've learned to manage it to where I know how to reel myself in. I have to ground myself in the things that I can control, take measures to feel safe and  remind myself that I'm not alone even if the nagging feeling persists. My life exists past my room and I am loved beyond measure even if I can't feel it right now in person. 

Last night as I was low key spiraling after my news wormhole, I took a shot and half jokingly asked my FB friends to post pictures of their kids and/or pets to clear my mental palette. I didn’t think anyone would bite but so far I've gotten 13 pics of really the purest form of love this planet could ever experience. My friend's dog posing with his paws crossed, my other friend's son covered in dirt from climbing a tree, my other friend's daughter face planting in her kiddie pool, my godson casually snacking on a loaf of bread, my friend's cat refusing to pose for the picture so giving their back to the camera. It's just beautiful to see that there is still joy and beauty happening along with the absolute tragedies happening in this pandemic.  

I guess that's the lesson this morning. That the world is on fire but kids and dogs and cats: they're not worried. They can't worry because they are thus far wired to just go with it until the next thing comes along and never losing an opportunity to find a glimmer of joy in whatever way possible. John Krasinski's SGN has just been so good for the heart. If my love for Mary Poppins wasn't clear to me before, Emily Blunt just has to peak her head in to the frame for me to burst into childhood tears. The teacher who drove to his student's house to do a math lesson through a sliding door. The other teacher who stopped by to hang out with her student to make sure she's doing okay. The man who made a sign thanking the medical staff that saved his wife's life. All of the families making Tik Tok videos because there's literally nothing else for them to do. The hospital staff that taped pictures of themselves to their gowns to offer some comfort to their patient's through all their safety gear.  It's all still out there waiting to experienced first hand: the truly best parts we can offer each other have been there the whole time. We just have to access it and make it a priority to bring it front and center. For now it's through Zoom happy hours but it won't be this way forever. 

There is no way to escape the stillness of this moment in the physical and metaphysical way & I think that may be the point. Maybe this is a reset for us to recalibrate ourselves or maybe we just get through it in one piece and that's the win. For now we sit still and take it in and process. And when it's too much, we just accept that it is and maybe make a FB post asking for pictures of pets and/or kids. 

37: The Glow Up

I know that it sounds like the thing you're supposed to say but I really do like getting older. This year feels one where a lot of hard work is about to come into fruition. I'm so excited, you have no idea. I almost wish I could open myself up down the middle just to show you the confetti party happening inside. The glow up is going to be real this year. Just you wait.

A few years ago, somewhere in my head a timer went off for a climb. A climb to get back to myself. To face all my shit and most of all a climb to feel okay again. And now a whole hand of years later, I can see the the peak to this climb.

And on this peak there is a sign but it doesn't read "Finished".

It reads: "Mended".

Hello Mended, I thought I'd never see you but there you are! You might be the most beautiful thing I've ever laid my eyes on. The very best birthday present I will ever receive. I'm almost there. Just a few more steps...

For a long time after I released the life I had planned for myself and into the life that has been waiting for me, the answer to a lot of the questions in my head was "I don't know".  These days I know where everything [metaphorically] goes and now the question is "what's next?"

Spoiler alert: I still don't know. What I do know is that I've grown comfortable with being uncomfortable. I really love that about myself. I'm not worried about what is coming next, which feels like a vacation in my spirit. Part of the "fear of unknown" for me has been that the "unknown"  would destroy me. All of the "worst case scenarios" I have tortured myself with have come true, but guess what, I'm. Still. Here.  As a result I'm not afraid of pain anymore & I expect happiness as a birthright. As sure as the sun will rise and set, pain & joy will visit me time and time again and some of the waves will most definitely hit, flip and carry me to places I didn't know I would go but they will never ever drown me.

I do know one other thing to be true: I am loved. No, really I am loved like I've never been loved before. Part of being an empath is learning to manage the dire need to save people from their pain and

the euphoria of feeling really good vibes in a room. And let me tell you the energy that's been around me lately is staggeringly good...confetti-party good.

  

Another thing that I know for sure: the only way through things is to feel them, to deal with them and heal them. We have to seek out the best parts of being alive but equally necessary & true (and if you never believe anything else from me): pain is a motherfucker but it's also a teacher. And so the quicker you deal, the quicker you will heal.

Isn't it weird that it has to be this way though? That pain and joy are equal parts of being human? You can't have one without the other. Consequences, it's part of being alive we are missing half the experience of being alive.

I've found that the one of the best ways of living is to by relentlessly searching for the beauty and magic in every day ordinary things. A sunrise, a sunset, my favorite t-shit, a great day at the gym, Tik Tok videos of dogs doing dog things, that moment when you go from laughing to cackle, a good makeout sesh, his hand in mine.

That's my next self-project: to raise my bravery in pursuit of magic. The safe side of bravery for me is creative things I can do on my own (and I am working on a few them, I promise). The next level bravery I'm willing myself to is the stuff that involves connection to people. To force myself to set my eyes on the guy I want and go for it. To let my guard down to the best kind of magic there is in being alive: to see and be seen truly.

My birthday wish, for me and you, is that we would find it in us to be compassionate, tender with ourselves and with each other. That we would meet each other with empathy in our pain & in celebration of our joy. That we seek the magic about being alive (whatever that means to you). That we laugh hard, that we love each other fully & boldly. That we keep climbing and we never let go of each other.

This is 37: Mended, Loved & Brave.