I don't consider myself to be a particularly emotional person. I've never been much of a cryer even as a child, and I've always found myself feeling pretty indifferent about movie moments that were supposed to make me laugh or cry or go "awwwww". But recently I've been repeatedly embarrassing myself diving deep into wikipedia and then reading through my tears about lesbian poets from the 1900s who were cast out of society and died in poverty.
My weak emotional spots are art and underappreciation. I cry for the amazingly talented black musicians of the 60s whose music was stolen and popularized by Elvis Presley with even a reference to the original artist, I cry for the dishonest life of Elton John in a heterosexual marriage, I cry for Vermeer and Bach and Van Gogh and Edgar Allan Poe and the generations of geniuses at their caliber to come that are doomed to die without recognition for their unmatchable art.
I read these articles and cry. Then I click the link to the last paragraphs of their unsuccessful autobiographies and cry more. Then I scan the "related articles" list for more people to cry about. A few weeks ago I thought it might be fun to visit the history museum and on the top floor in the exhibit about life for African-Americans in Portland through the ages I found myself crying, loudly, looking at the charming smiles of 5 black dancers and singers crouched around a piano, the names of whom I didn't know because their accomplishments were never even acknowledged.
But Titanic? No emotional response. Marley and Me? Nothing. Les Miserables? I was checking my watch.
Engraver
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