The 80s to a 2000s Girl

I was sitting at dinner recently and I made a comment about how I spent my teen years, ages 13-18, in my bedroom avoiding people and watching movies. One of the people at this dinner said, “That explains so much.” Now, I know what he meant by it and I know he said “jokingly”. You know those people who laugh at the end of an insulting sentence to make it seem like it was a joke? I’m sure you’ve met a couple of those in your life.

He meant it because I’m not one for sharing my emotions and I’m not a very social person. Keep in mind, this guy only knows me in one context and has absolutely no idea what I’m like in my personal life. And yet, I took his words and internalized them as I often do when someone makes a flip remark geared towards me.

As a teenager, I never felt quite right anywhere. I was out of place at my Catholic all girls high school where they were talking about going drinking in the woods, clothes, the mall, and the guys they were hooking up with. My neighborhood friends, who I’ve known since I was 7 years old, were always there for me but I still felt out of place because they all seemed cooler, smarter, and more mature than I was at the time. Hindsight, of course, is 20/20 and the truth is no one had any idea what the hell they were doing in their teen years and everyone was too terrified to mention it.

So, I went to my room. Where I escaped to my movies and books. I’m pretty sure the first time I saw The Breakfast Club was on TBS where the word “Flip” was used to cover up the cursing and basically made the movie unwatchable. Regardless, I was hooked. I started watching every 80s movie I could get my hands on and continued to watch them over and over. Especially John Hughes’ movies. Then someone mentioned the term “Brat Pack” and I started researching all of the actors who fell into this category and began watching their films.

I was in love. With the scripts, the actors, the soundtracks, all of it. Friendly reminder, this was around 2004-2006. I should’ve been fawning over Leonardo DiCaprio and Orlando Bloom (and I was sometimes) but my heart belonged to Andrew McCarthy, Judd Nelson, Rob Lowe, and Emilio Estevez. St. Elmo’s Fire was the greatest movie I had ever seen (much to the horror of my movie buff father).

I felt a special connection with the character of Kevin in St. Elmo’s Fire, played wonderfully by Andrew McCarthy. He wanted to be a writer, he was sarcastic and cynical, he gave off this air of not caring when he cared more deeply than anyone else. As a child, I thought being an actor was a great career choice and genuinely wanted it but my crippling fear of being in front of other people put an end to that real quick. Instead, I found where I was comfortable, behind a keyboard. Writing and pouring every emotion I have into words I could never quite bring myself to say.

I don’t remember the exact circumstances but a friend of mine, Ben, when we were in college met Andrew McCarthy and asked him for his autograph to give to me. It’s still one of my most prized possessions and something I hold on to, to remember how the Brat Pack were my best friends for a long period of my life. When I heard he was writing a book, I immediately pre-ordered it (a signed copy obviously).

Today I read Andrew McCarthy’s book, brat: an 80s story. And once again, I felt this connection to a person I never met. In the first chapter he writes about his previous book, “More specifically still, it became a book about how I would come to terms with two very disparate notions that resided firmly inside me—namely, a strong yearning for solitude and an equally strong yet seemingly incompatible desire for a deep and intimate loving connection with another human being.” Sure Andrew, just pull out one of the deepest secrets I keep close to my chest and write it for the whole world! It’s quite possibly the hardest aspect of life I struggle with and I have to fight against my instinct to hide away every single day. It was nice hearing I wasn’t the only one.

Throughout the book he talks about fame and his struggles with insecurity and addiction during the 80s. I was born on the tail end of ’89 and yet I still classify the 80s as my favorite decade for film which is why I devour any books from actors who worked during that time. Andrew wanted to be known for his work, he wanted to be great at his job, but all the fame and attention accompanying it was difficult to deal with. I relate to this on such a deep level. If anyone throws a compliment my way, I feel pride but then instantly look at the ground and wish for it to swallow me whole so people won’t look at me.

It’s difficult to want to be known for something yet be terrified of the praise and feel the need to self-sabotage instead. I think it’s something a lot of people struggle with but once again, not something being spoken about on a regular basis.

I have every line of Andrew’s from St. Elmo’s Fire memorized. This is my favorite one, “Love. You know what love is? Love is an illusion created by lawyer types like yourself to perpetuate another illusion called marriage to create the reality of divorce and then the illusionary need for divorce lawyers.” I’ll admit being exposed to this type of cynicism when I was 15 years old didn’t exactly help my social skills. It’s still a damn good line.

It’s interesting reading how actors feel about their films. I’ve known for years the ending to Pretty in Pink was not the original ending. As I said, I’m a super 80s movie fan and I knew the original script has Duckie and Andie together. Andrew talks about reading the script for the first time on his way to film it and having an immediate adverse reaction to the ending. Luckily, the test audience felt the same way and they had to reshoot it (thank god for the fans).

It was interesting to learn John Hughes wanted Andrew for Some Kind of Wonderful which is my second favorite John Hughes movie. Andrew was smart enough not to take it since he’s right in saying it’s basically Pretty in Pink with the genders reversed. I think I love it so much because Mary Stuart Masterson was my hero tomboy figure from the 80s, when I was growing up in the 2000s and the girls on TV were getting skinnier and skinnier and harder and harder to live up to.  

Reading Andrew’s book brought back the nostalgia of my teens. He explains this perfectly when he writes, “And it’s not just the work: maybe now, more importantly, it is the memory of the work that’s so valuable to people. Because in the memory of those movies exists a touchstone of youth, of when life was all ahead, when the future was a blank slate, when anything was possible.”

Yes, I spent a good deal of my teen years in my room watching movies made twenty years previously and some people might say it made me anti-social. Or say I should have been out being a “real teenager”, whatever the hell that means. But in my room, with those movies, with those scripts, with those deep feelings of being seen for the first time, that’s when I realized my words could make an impact. My words mattered. My feelings mattered.

The “Brat Pack” was originally a derogatory term thrown at a bunch of young actors to make them seem like spoiled jerks. To me, in the early 2000s, they were the people I relied on when nothing else seemed to make sense. For that, I am eternally grateful to Andrew McCarthy, John Hughes, and all the other members of 80s cinema who made me feel important.

Writing Prompt #1- What would you like to put in storage?

Hello there.

It’s been a while since we last spoke. My fault, of course, for my lack of commitment and the general insanity and unpredictability of life.

Anyway, we’re going to try something different this year. A while ago (June 24th, 2016 to be precise), I bought a book called 300 Writing Prompts (published by Piccadilly). I’ve barely made a dent in those 300 and I thought now might be the perfect time to start. However, instead of only writing them in the book, I’ve decided to also write them here.

Starting with today. New year…well, new year, same me but we’re going to give this a try and hope for the best. Here goes nothing:

Writing Prompt #1: What would you like to put in storage?

All of my old childhood toys. My Grandmom would buy me a new collectible Barbie doll every year either for my birthday or for Christmas. I still have all of them, some in worse condition than others. I didn’t understand the whole concept of “collectible” as a child and I would try to pry quite a few of them out of the box. This is something that’s carried into my adulthood as well since those Pop Vinyl things are also collectibles and yet the entire Breakfast Club cast is out of the box and gathered on my cubicle at work.

I have other favorite toys. My stuffed Winnie the Pooh. The very first teddy bear someone ever bought me when I was born. A stuffed Pluto my brother brought me back from his first trip to Disney. My stuffed hush puppy who I dragged around with me everywhere. I loved all of these and I hate how they’re piled on top of each other in a storage container right now. It makes me think of Toy Story and they’re all waiting for me or someone new to come and free them.

I don’t plan on ever having children. *insert gasp of most women my age here* But that’s something I’m 99% sure of in my life. Even so, I don’t want to throw any of these away. The real hope is my brother and sister-in-law will have children. Then slowly, over the years, I’ll introduce those children to my first and oldest best friends and hope they find as much joy in them as I always did.

Until then, occasionally I’ll open the storage container and hug my old friends. Let them know I’m never too far away from them or my childhood self.

My Teen Years Through Film

            I don’t remember exactly when I first watched The Breakfast Club. I’m pretty sure I was 13 or 14 and it was probably the cut up version on TV first then I bought the DVD and saw the uncut version. By the way, only EVER watch the uncut, uncensored version of The Breakfast Club (TBC), otherwise it’ll be two hours of terrible voice overs saying, “Flip you!”

            The Breakfast Club did something for me though. It brought me into the world of the Brat Pack. The world of John Hughes. I still live in those worlds today. I can barely go a month or two without watching a Hughes movie. But TBC will always be my favorite with Some Kind of Wonderful following in as a close second.

            One of the reasons I loved the movie so much was because I identified with it, as I think everyone does at one point or another. Whether you identify with the kids, Vernon or Janitor Carl, there was someone for everyone. I always considered myself a mix of Allison and Brian. The Basket Case and the Brain. The invisible smart one. Except TBC showed me, maybe I’m not invisible.

            A few months ago, they released TBC back in theaters for its anniversary and of course, I bought tickets the second I could and went with Kait. Being in a movie theater has always been one of my favorite parts of life. It’s an experience seeing a new piece of cinema for the first time. But this time was different in a great way.

            Sometimes people look at me oddly because of my enthusiastic passion for a book, movie or TV show. It’s the same as some people feel about art or music. When I walked into the movie theater to watch The Breakfast Club, it was the first time ever knowing everyone inside was there for the same reason. We all share the same love and respect for The Breakfast Club and John Hughes. From teenagers to couples in their 50s and 60s and we were all there because at one point in our lives we were a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess or a criminal. And sometimes we still are these titles. But that night we all sat in detention again and we all laughed and choked back tears and fell in love with brilliant film making all over again.

            My Dad once said to me when I was a teenager watching TBC, “When you’re a kid, you identify with the kids but when you’re an adult, you’ll understand where Vernon is coming from.”

          Let me tell you something, I pray to god that never happens. I never, ever want to lose the piece of me that identifies with those kids. There are people in this world who never really grow up. They never lose the part of themselves that remembers what high school was really like. They never lose “teen speak” and they never forget what it felt like to be a teenager. John Hughes was one of those people. The everlasting teenager. I like to think I’m one of those people too.

           High school wasn’t fun for me, it hurt a lot of the time and you couldn’t pay me enough to go back. But it’s the piece of time I tend to write about in my stories. It’s the section of my life, I reflect on and twist and turn and bring to life in my own writing. Never will we feel so deeply, so completely the way we did in high school when all our senses, our emotions, our hormones were heightened to their fullest extent. In high school, you have your highest highs and lowest lows. It makes it interesting to write about because it’s something we’ll most likely never experience again in such a short period of time (even though those four years feel like a lifetime when you’re there).

         John Hughes has some of the best quotes in his movies. For example TBC:

        Allison: It’s inevitable.

        Claire: What is?

        Allison: When you grow up your heart dies.

        Think about that for a second. I have spent so much time dissecting that line. “When you grow up, your heart dies.” How terrible to believe in such a thing? How terrible must it have been for John Hughes if he at some point in his life believed growing up meant your heart dies? How terrible for me when I was 14 to think, holy shit, it’s so true. I know adults who have lost their hearts…some who never had them in the first place. This line is one of the reasons I hold on to certain things. It’s why I love celebrating birthdays and holidays and Christmas more than anything. It’s why I still love and watch Disney movies and teen movies. I don’t want my heart to die. As much as I love TBC and Allison as a character, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure my heart never dies.

         One of my other favorite John Hughes lines is from Some Kind of Wonderful:

                                                                      &nbs…

                                                                                                            Okay, several quotes from this one.

         Keith’s Dad: You’re only 18 years old, for Christ’s sake!

         Keith:  Then I’m 19 then I’m 20! When does my life belong to me?!

         This was a big one for me growing up. I’ve always been a pretty independent person. I don’t like being told what to do or where my life should be heading or how to handle a situation. I don’t like being asked incessant questions about my life. I’m a very open person so if I want you to know something, I’ll gladly volunteer the information. When I was 19, 20, 21 and still living at home I couldn’t stand the questions, “Where’d you go? Who’d you see? What did you do? When are you coming back?” I swear to god, I used to yell, “SHUUUUUUUT UP!” in my head constantly. One of the many reasons I think people should move out of their parents’ houses faster because having too many adults in one house can cause terrible discourse. So I always used to think when does my life belong to me? When can I stop catering to everyone around me? When can I stop going to school? When can I stop doing jobs I have to do and do something I WANT to do? When can I live on my own and do what I want when I want and how I want it. I finally reached that level three years ago when I became an editor at my old company and finally moved out of my parents’ house. Here it is. This is the life that finally belongs to me and me alone and it’s phenomenal.

        And of course, there’s this beauty from Ferris Bueller:

        Ferris: Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

        I saw something on the internet the other day, it said something like, “We all wanted to be Ferris but I’m pretty sure we all turned into Camerons”. So, so true. Ferris has a point though. I’m going to be 26 in a couple months. TWENTY SIX. I couldn’t even fathom being twenty six when I was a teenager. I wished for it, prayed for it but couldn’t really picture it. And honestly, me at 26 isn’t all that different from 16 year old me. Still have the same taste in movies and books. Still have the same best friends. I live alone now and have a better job and tend to have way less drama and way more wedding invitations coming my way.

       I’m not saying 26 is old, it’s not. I’m not naïve enough to say I’m getting old. But then I’ll read something in the news about someone my age dying from a heart attack or cancer or something equally as terrible and that’s when Ferris comes back to me. We have no clue when our time is up on this planet. And I have no clue what happens after we die which is why when my friends suggest we do something new or different, I’m hesitant but I’ll do it. I want to jump out of plane and go zip lining and see other parts of the world. I don’t want to miss it. I don’t want to be 50, 60, 70 or 80 and look back and think I never saw anything in this world. Never did anything. It would break my heart.  

       So basically what I’m saying is, I live my life off of the advice from fictional 80s movie characters. I’m pretty okay with it actually. Fictional role models tend to be better than some real life ones. This post was originally just supposed to be about The Breakfast Club and how it changed my life. And it did change my life, in the best possible way. It gave me the 80s. A decade I missed out on by being born at the tail end of 1989. I love 80s music and film and pretty much everything originating from the 80s except maybe the hair styles.

        These 80s movies helped shape and form who I am. They gave me an outlet when I desperately needed one. They gave me friends when all of mine were out drinking on the weekends and I rather be at home. They gave me brilliant film making and beautifully written scripts. They gave me actors whose careers I have followed my whole life. I’m no longer a teenager and my love of these movies comes from a different place in my heart. When I was younger, I loved them because they showed me I wasn’t alone and life wouldn’t always be like high school.

         Now, I watch them because sometimes I need to be reminded of those times to be able to appreciate my life now.

        Well that and because Judd Nelson, Emilio Estevez, Rob Lowe, and Eric Stoltz were incredibly attractive in the 80s.

         My point is, ladies and gentleman, movies, books, art and music, they all shape our lives in some way or another. John Hughes and The Brat Pack have my teen years. Maybe next time I’ll go into what shaped my childhood or young adulthood: Disney movies and the gangster genre. Or I’ll talk about the summer when I went through all the movies on the top shelf of the bookcase I was “too young” to watch but did anyway. What a great summer.

         In the meantime, I urge you all to go back to your favorite teen movies and watch them. Whether they were John Hughes movies or something else, have yourself a very nostalgic weekend.

Happy 4th of July!