What Trudy said.

Much love to you and yours, Heather. I hope your cousin gets in touch soon.

What's embarassing about crying in a dark room where no one is looking at you because they all paid good money to look at what's on the giant lighted screen?

I usually don't care too much what people think if I cry at the movies, but I was really embarrassed when I went to see The Return of the King on Trilogy Tuesday. I mean, the theatre is full of huge geeks, right, and we're all totally into the story. But somehow, I get SO weepy that I am just sobbing loudly for the last 15 or 20 minutes (and leaking quiet tears for a good half hour before that). People are turning around to look at me, wondering what is wrong with me, and I realize that I am actually the biggest dork the world has ever seen.

{{{Heather}}} Also, what Trudy said.

Oh, Heather. You're such good people. My thoughts are with you.

I cry in movies, at the wrong times. I don't know if people notice, but I totally skim the crowd for weepers once I'm done. Because that's usually when it's time to cry (for RotK I was only affected by the early crypoints, and maybe by more of them than any one person was meant to, but for Million Dollar Baby I was totally recovered (and quite bouncy) by the sad parts. Wept like a baby for the middle third, though).

I especially look for men crying. Not to mock, or anything. I'm just very curious.

So, yes, if you're a stranger in the theatre near me, I will notice.

{{{{Heather}}}}

Heather, I hope you're able to get some rest. I wish I could take some of the hard away from you for the coming weeks.

Heather, I'm sorry it's hard. But you are strong, and your help will be so appreciated.

beth, glad everyone's checked in.

Still thinking of Heather here.

Shall I take it as a good sign that it's going to be a splendid, temperate day here today? With fluffy clouds, low humidity, birds atwitter and all that?

I got up early enough this morning that I didn't understand the function of my alarm clock. And it was dark. And there was fog. And other people were out there, driving around, and I hated them a whole lot. The highway made me hate them more. And I had to drive to work really, really fast, because they had coffee there, and oh my god, coffeeeeeeee.

I'm avoiding the desks of certain morning people coworkers, because I seem to be all id, and I think my id has kung fu grip today.

Heather, I hope things end in the best possible way, for you and yours. Thoughts and well-wishes and all the ~ma I can send are coming in that direction.

And I think it's wonderful, the way you try to do whatever you can in such difficult circumstances. Oh, and please don't forget to take some care of yourself, as well, OK?

[Edited to try and be a part of the conversation:

When I really like movie, be it at home or in the theater (though, better, of course, in the big dark room in front of the big screen where the real world can be kept outside for a bit), I tend to get completely inside the world of the movie. I can notice later that I cried or laughed out loud or gasped or jumped in my seat, but mostly later, or it should be pointed out to me (um, in crying, sometimes by my actual tears, but still).

It takes that "falling in love" in a movie for me to respond to it so outwardly (is that a word?), but if/when that happens, I'm so immersed that the people around me are less there than the story and world and characters in the moving pictures and sounds, so I don't really mind responding that strongly in front of them, be they strangers or friends - they're less there than the story.

Last week I went to see "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" with friends, and I had a wonderful time. On the intermission, one of my friends went to the bathroom, and when she returned she had to tell me that she heard gossip about me from the booth next to hers - commenting about that "girl who laughed so loudly in front" (we were at the most front occupied row, so it had to be me), followed by attempts to imitate that strange girl's laughter. When she told me that, and I laughed out loud at the story, I was conscious about my laughter, but there was nothing I could do about it, I don't know how to laugh in any other way, you know?

My friend T keeps telling people they should watch "Firefly" only with me, so that they can mock my responses (like, um, tearing up each and every time I watch the ending of "Out of Gas"). If When "Serenity" gets to Israel, most likely we'll go together, and she'll totally make sure to sit next to me so that she can monitor my responses and store them for future mocking. That's what good friends are for, I guess.]