I don't cry at funerals or personal tragedies, which is, I suppose, one reason why my family thinks of me as being unemotional. I have completely melted down from a number of Buffy episodes, Little Women, It's a Wonderful Life, almost any act of heroism, and, on occasion, lost dog signs.

one basic mode of expression is partially closed off to me.

Even before crying became so potentially detached from feeling, I never thought of crying as communication or expression beyond the self -- and when I do, it becomes just like words, capable of misdirection.

I mean, knowing I could mist up when someone else was grieving by imagining Girlfight or Charlie's Angel divests it of any inherent honesty. I might as well tell her how I feel, hold her hand, express through action.

I do feel cheated because I'll never sing a love song (or perhaps even a lullaby) and elicit anything other than panic, but it's a small thing. I have other vocabulary. I get by.

Also, sometimes I am a heartless monster.

I cry at all kinds of silly things. Sad movies, sad TV shows, sad songs, joyous versions of all of the above.

Yep. All sorts of things will make me cry. Sad crying, happy crying, I'm waaaaay too tired and should be sleeping but instead I'm going to weep crying ...

I perhaps need to get a tighter rein on my emotions.

Huh. That would probably mean I should, too.

I don't cry at funerals or personal tragedies, which is, I suppose, one reason why my family thinks of me as being unemotional. I have completely melted down from a number of Buffy episodes, Little Women, It's a Wonderful Life, almost any act of heroism, and, on occasion, lost dog signs.

Ginger is me. I kept the Buffy finale on my Tivo for months just so I could watch the Slayer activation montage and get misty-eyed at the Softball!Slayer again.

And with big tragedies, if I cry at all it's over some little detail. I was at a memorial a few days after 9/11, and for most of the service I was solemnly, stoically angry. Until I saw a woman wearing not black, like I was, nor red, white, and blue, as some were, but one of those standard tourist "I (heart) NY" t-shirts. Then I couldn't stop crying. And with the tsunami, I cried over a woman talking about having a baby exactly Annabel's age swept from her arms, even while I berated myself for turning into one of those women who couldn't hear about a tragedy without thinking "What if that was MY bay-bee?"

ita, did you watch LOST?

ita, did you watch LOST?

Yes I did -- why?

I watched 30 minutes of Point Pleasant and my God, I want those minutes back. It's just godawful. Crap acting, blah dialog, shoddy editing, ludicrous premise--you name it, it's got it. What the hell is Marti doing?

I thought I remembered you talking about the Magical Black Character trope at some point, and it leaped out at me. Was wanting to discuss, but wasn't sure if it was you or Kat that had been discussing it before.

Allyson, I think it all depends on whether he inspires anyone, and so far, NSM -- but the other black survivor, an intermittently appearing woman, is definitely the inspirational kumbaya type. Give us free. Or you know, something interesting.

Yeah, but ita, Michael's black too, and he ain't inspiring nobody. I think the trope to discuss here is the Freaky Little Kid Who Does Magic Things.