As you might be able to tell from the previous two posts, the last couple of years have been...difficult. Not just for me, of course. I mean, Duh with a capital 'D'. Truthfully, I don't possess so much as a fifth of the mental fortitude needed to even touch on all of the pure, unadulterated shite that has gone on in the world in the span of just two years. Nor does anyone else need me to. You were there. It was and continues to be a dumpster fire. Let that be the end of it. (Please. Please.)
So then, the reason I find myself back on this ancient blog, trying to put thoughts into words despite a steadily declining desire to write, is because I want (need?) to pay my respects. And I've no fucking idea how to do that for somebody who is no longer alive, but this is the best I've got to offer.
We—that is, myself and my classmates—started these blogs because of a course at Averno College. The explainer says so right over there —> on the sidebar, and has done since day one. Looking through my old school files (which I keep but never, ever look at), it turns out that I attended 'Film Around the World' during my fifth semester as an English major. And...that class was taught by Mimi Czarnik. I'd already been a student of hers for a few years by then. In fact, she was the very first professor I ever had a class with as a painfully shy, admittedly fed-up freshman, and again almost every semester thereafter until obtaining my degree. Mimi eased me out of my shell. She managed to make me enjoy learning again following years spent at a high school that I considered a personal sort of hell. She helped to convince me that pursuing a career in a field that I enjoyed was worthwhile despite tired jokes about how useless the humanities are in today's world. She wasn't the sole reason, but she definitely held sway, probably even without realizing it.
Eventually, Mimi became my staff advisor. After passing a formal grammar class, she submitted my name so that I could get my first-ever job working on campus in the Communications Resource Center. She kept tabs on my progress as a student, ensuring that I was on track to graduate a semester early. She recommended my name for Honors, which were summarily conferred with my diploma. She gave me books. She let me read her dissertation on Transcendentalism in Victorian literature. She threatened to make a Facebook profile under my name if I didn't join up myself as a means of staying in contact post-graduation. She kicked my ass at online Scrabble so many times it was almost embarrassing.
We attended some function or other in the Commons in the fall of 2013, and as a tiny token of thanks for everything she had done for me up to that point—including making me feel like somebody whose input meant something, that my thoughts were valid and worth sharing from time to time—I presented her with a cute little cow charm to add to her collection. I bought it off of Etsy, and now I wish that I'd given her more.
Because Mimi was kind, and she helped me grow in ways I can't articulate. Her lessons about fairy tales and subversive feminist perspectives surface in my mind alongside memories of early morning bus commutes and church pews lining the hall. Dumb group projects, and reading excerpts from "The Mysteries of Udolpho." Somehow managing to hate algebra more than I did when I was a little kid and yeah, so I'd swallow my tongue whenever I gave a presentation, big whoop. Turns out that was never the end of the world. There are bigger fish.
Mimi died yesterday, and I can't even remember the last time we talked to one another. Things get in the way; you know how it goes. Seems like a shallow excuse, but I have my own mess of a life to deal with just like she did. Just like everyone does. So though this is too little, too late, I wanted to put down into at least semi-coherent words that Mimi mattered to me. She's gone, but I hope she knew that before she left.
This is a foreign film blog. Still. Technically. I wanted to make something in Mimi's memory, to...I don't know. Prove that she inspired those around her. That she made a positive impact, even if we'll never be able to grasp the extent. But I'm sitting here typing, and my head hurts from the strain of a jaw clenched tight against loss. So. Think I'll call it soon. Anyone who knew her already knows what I'm trying to say. This exercise is more therapeutic for me than anything else. Or, at least, that was part of the idea. I'm sorry that I couldn't do justice to a life so well lived. She loved to help others flourish, and I am grateful for all of it.
It always feels gross rereading anything I've written. That trait isn't exclusive to me, but yikes. It was quite a trip looking over this blog again. Every paragraph is verbose and worthy of an eyeroll. But, I must have gotten something out of it at the time. And Mimi encouraged me. So, it's fine, really. Wouldn't change a thing. I'll keep this one short:
Watch Cold War, a 2018 Polish film by Paweł Pawlikowski. It's beautiful, and it made me cry. Maybe Mimi liked it, too.
