In an unfortunate turn of events, my original blog post about Carrie Fisher’s death three years ago never migrated to this site when I bought this domain.
(You can read my original short tribute here. It’s a search link, but it’s there.)
Today, I saw her last performance as Leia Organa. I cried. Not loud, ugly crying, but I cried. Several times. I mean, I don’t cry at movies generally, but when I saw the name “General Leia Organa” on the screen, I teared up. Hell, when I saw the Star Wars scroll come on the screen, I teared up. I teared up when I thought of young Carrie. When I thought of flipping-people-off Carrie. When I saw Rey training with Leia. And the end–oh, my GODS, I cried. I left the theater sniffling.
The movie was amazing. Better than the eighth, possibly my new favorite of the Skywalker saga. But this post isn’t about the movie.
This post is about Carrie. About the impact her life–and death–had on me.
Since my original post is hidden on the interwebs, I’m going to write a new one. I get to do that, because this is my blog after all.
I never met Carrie. Never talked with her in any capacity, not even online. I have no connection to her in any way… Except for the bipolar disorder. That’s a thing we shared, and it’s a thing she was vocal about.
I want to be like that. I want to become a person who others see and say, “Hey, that chick is pretty cool. Oh hey, she has bipolar disorder. That’s cool.” I want people to see it as a part of me, but not all of me. I don’t want to hide it, and I want to be a part of making a world where no one has to hide it.
I’m not a huge celebrity like Carrie was. Is. She’s still with us in spirit, looking down on us all and giving us a big smile and bigger middle finger.
But she wasn’t always a big celebrity. She started out small, too, so there’s hope. Hope for everyone who wants to make it big, and hope for everyone who wants to make a difference. Maybe some day, someone who has read my writing, who hasn’t ever met me, will see a report about my death, and they’ll be sad. Maybe they’ll write their own blog post about the influence I had.
Not any time soon, mind you; I got shit to do. I’ve gotta write more books. Gotta spread the word about the things that affect me and many more like me. Gotta get out there, get known, and get busy. But maybe some day, when I become one with the Force, some stranger, some fan out there, will be affected. And maybe they’ll continue where I left off.
I’ve never shied away from talking about bipolar disorder and how it affects me, but now I’m going to make more of an effort to be vocal about it. I mean, I’m not going to get preachy or anything, but I’m going to be more … me.
Carrie Fisher wasn’t a friend of mine. She wasn’t anyone I’ve ever known. But she was a presence. She made an impact.
I want to make an impact.
I want to be a Force.