Reflections on Life After Watching Disney-Pixar's Soul

I finally got to see the new Disney-Pixar movie the other night -- Soul. Being the giant, overgrown kid-at-heart I am, I get very excited about new Disney films as a rule, but I was extra eager to see this one. Not only does it have a Black lead and contain many references to Black culture -- something I'm happy to be seeing in more media -- but jazz music is an integral part of the film's theme, as well. I've come to love jazz, especially as I get older and increasingly excited about different kinds of music.

I liked the film very much in general. Still, I especially enjoyed its primary message about the concept of life purpose and how it addressed many common questions people have on the subject. 

• What does it mean to have a life purpose?
• Is your purpose about your profession of choice or something else entirely?
• What does it really feel like to finally realize your most significant, dearest goals in life?
• Where do little pleasures and daily experiences fit into the picture?
• Is it possible not to have a purpose, and what happens if that's the case for you?

At nearly 45, I've managed to answer many of those questions for myself, but it took me a while. Joe was my favorite character, so I'd love to say I was just like him -- maybe a little misguided, but always sure of what I wanted to do with my life. I'm really the spitting image of Soul 22, though. 

Like 22, I believed that I didn't have a life purpose for an extremely long time, especially when I was younger. While everyone else my age seemed to know exactly what they wanted to do with their lives, nothing seemed to resonate with me at all. I did know I enjoyed being creative -- drawing, writing, playing piano, and the like -- but there was no way to turn those things into stable livings that actually appealed to me back then. I didn't want to put on a suit and design logos for some soulless corporate entity or settle for teaching schoolchildren about the things I wanted to be doing myself. I especially disliked the idea of having to commute to an office every day.

On December, News Break, and the Holiday Blahs

I suppose there isn't much left of the dumpster fire that's been 2020 at this point, although it hardly matters. It's not as if something magical is going to happen the minute the clock strikes midnight on New Year's Eve or anything. The world will still be as it is, and we'll still be as we are -- hurting but healing and figuring out what's next for us. But that is, without a doubt, one of the more valuable lessons I've learned this year. 

You may not be able to control all of your circumstances to the extent you'd like, but you have total control over how you react to them. As someone who's had to teach herself to willingly take the reins of her own life over the years, I'm pretty proud of how consistently I showed up and showed out this year. I managed to turn some of the worst challenges of my life into fruitful, productive ways to earn, heal, and express myself this year.

This has especially been the case with my writing. I ended last year as a burnt-out copywriter who wasn't even sure how she'd be making ends meet in the year to come. I'm finishing this one in a completely different place. Not only did I find newer, better avenues for my copywriting skills, but I also became a professional blogger and found paying outlets for what I think of as my "real" writing. I completed the first draft of a book this year -- my very first stab at book writing ever to result in a finished manuscript. I have a running list of additional avenues I'll be exploring in 2021 and beyond, as well. I'm exceedingly happy with where I am right now and excited about everything yet to come.

........

Like a lot of my friends and favorite writers on Medium, I've been testing the waters at News Break this month. I was invited to join their creator program at some point over the past couple of months, but I slept on it a while, as they seemed to be looking for citizen journalists as opposed to writers who do... whatever the hell it is I do. But then many writers from my circle started saying they saw some decent traffic there, even if all they'd done is republish their personal development stuff from Medium, so I decided to try the same thing. 

My Life as a Social-Antisocial Being

Like most people with the audacity to hop on the internet and share their writing every day, I get my fair share of comments from complete trolls -- especially if something I put out there starts doing really well. I've had people call me sexist (and even imply I'm queerphobic) for writing articles targeted at men who don't understand why women won't date them. I've had people tell me I'm shallow and fatphobic for talking about my ongoing fitness journey and singing the praises of an active lifestyle in general. I've even been shat on for so much as mentioning that my family was dysfunctional growing up. 

None of that actually bothers me. I've got a thicker skin than most people would figure just looking at my tarty little face. Plus, I've come to feel that trolls are a sign that whatever I wrote must have hit home on some level. Random folks only get that freaking mad at people they don't know when writing touches a nerve. I will never understand what inspires people to completely ignore the writing and comment on the writer's appearance, though.

This morning, a random reader felt the need to mention what a pretty girl they thought I was, but they really wished I showed my teeth when I smile. After reading an article I wrote about racial identity. And I genuinely don't understand what makes a person crack their knuckles and type something like that all the way out. Like, what means? What am I expected to do in response to that sort of feedback? Scramble to change my avatar to a photo of me showing every tooth in my head like a God damned donkey? Who knows anymore.

"Christmas Means Family" Is a Full-of-Shit Statement

Clark Griswold is still my spirit animal.

Now that November's over and December is officially here, we're officially in the process of shifting gears at my house. That means the Christmas lights are lit on a nightly basis, and we've officially started our yearly watchings of some of our favorite holiday films. Last night's pick was one of my personal favorites -- National Lampoons Christmas Vacation. 

The older I get, the more I think I relate to Clark (Chevy Chase) on a level I never did when I first fell in love with this film. I keep holidays very low-key these days for all sorts of reasons, but I'm usually the person in my household that does most of the planning for holiday celebrations. I put together the menus and do all the cooking. Back when my living situation allowed for it more, I used to get pretty into decorating my apartment and trying to make it feel like a magical place to be for the holidays. Sometimes I'd go overboard or fail to plan ahead well enough and wind up shooting myself straight in the foot, just like Clark, but it's probably not too hard to understand why.

Growing up, I was a very idealistic child, and my home life failed to measure up in many ways. My parents stopped loving each other at some point when I was a little kid but made the "honorable" decision to "stay together for the kids" anyway. I don't know who they thought they were fooling, though, because it was pretty apparent that neither of them was about that family life. My dad openly dated other women and was home as little as possible, even around the holidays. My mom more or less just gave up on domestic life -- hated to cook, hated doing the mom thing, and hated keeping house. Each of my parents bad-mouthed the other to my brother and me non-stop, so that was fun.