skin, bone, and arrogance
I'm not usually the type to go to pieces at the death of every famous person, but I have to tell you, this one got me right in the feels. I've adored Princess Leia since the moment I first saw Star WArs. She was a Princess (like me ) and a badass (like I wanted to be) all at the same time. She was rescued but she wasn't a damsel -- she was captured not because she was a girl or a princess but because she was doing something more ass-kicking an either Luke or Han had ever done (or, in my opinion, have done since). She was a leader, a fighter, and not a victim or a trope. She got the job done. In short, she was a vision, and it was all because of Carrie Fisher's portrayal of her.
As I grew up I learned more about Carrie Fisher, about her family life and her struggles but I was always so impressed that she was so open and honest and really quite graceful about the things she had experienced. Through it all, she made amazing contributions to culture, not just through Star Wars (though, I admit, I will always think of her as Princess Leia, the hero my little 10 year old heart wanted me to grow up to be) but through cinema and literature as well. Her work as a script-doctor wasn't very well-known but her fingerprints can be seen in films across the years, and her books (at least the ones I've read) are classic her. I can almost hear her, slightly gravelly, tongue planted firmly in cheek, speaking from the pages. I don't mean to wax poetic or be melodramatic; I really am just obliterated by the fact that she has died, just when she seemed to be getting back into a good place, to have a handle on her illness and to be just blossoming again. To die just as you were opening a new chapter in life, is -- it's not fair. It's just not fair.
I feel like I learned a lot from watching her: how loss doesn't have to ruin you, and how addiction doesn't have to define you, and how you can embrace or reject or come to own the things you did when you were nineteen, instead of letting it own you. She was all those things people say in famous peoples' eulogies, but she was really: larger than life, a remarkable talent, someone I felt a connection to even though we never met. There will never be another like her.
As I grew up I learned more about Carrie Fisher, about her family life and her struggles but I was always so impressed that she was so open and honest and really quite graceful about the things she had experienced. Through it all, she made amazing contributions to culture, not just through Star Wars (though, I admit, I will always think of her as Princess Leia, the hero my little 10 year old heart wanted me to grow up to be) but through cinema and literature as well. Her work as a script-doctor wasn't very well-known but her fingerprints can be seen in films across the years, and her books (at least the ones I've read) are classic her. I can almost hear her, slightly gravelly, tongue planted firmly in cheek, speaking from the pages. I don't mean to wax poetic or be melodramatic; I really am just obliterated by the fact that she has died, just when she seemed to be getting back into a good place, to have a handle on her illness and to be just blossoming again. To die just as you were opening a new chapter in life, is -- it's not fair. It's just not fair.
I feel like I learned a lot from watching her: how loss doesn't have to ruin you, and how addiction doesn't have to define you, and how you can embrace or reject or come to own the things you did when you were nineteen, instead of letting it own you. She was all those things people say in famous peoples' eulogies, but she was really: larger than life, a remarkable talent, someone I felt a connection to even though we never met. There will never be another like her.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UDZa6SdnAgo