Adventures in Juvenilia or: I Have Always Been This Weird: Part 1

Before I went to England, and before everyone went bananas for Downton Abbey, I had a little upper-crust British fantasy land swirling around in my head. I can't remember when it started. All I know is that when I was six, I drew pictures of people in carriages instead of bunnies or clowns or whatever, and I grew up in the golden age of the movie Titanic. I was a junior history nerd. My father made miniature buildings for a living when I was a kid, so I got dragged to numerous museums housed in local architectural landmarks. He would placate me by buying me various history-themed books. The first book that sparked my insatiable addiction to upper class twits of the mid-1800's was called Life in a 19th Century House. I learned about pheasant hunting, mourning traditions, children raised by nurses instead of loving parents. I learned about dance cards, ballroom etiquette, and the need to change one's clothes 12 times in a day. I knew true love.

Titanic came out when I was 8. I had some sort of psychological attraction-repulsion towards this movie. I was not at all a pretentious or snobby kid. I loved toys, Star Wars, and campfire s'mores. The Victorian fascination was just one of my many blossoming nerd traits. Titanic triggered my first flickers of historical picky-ness. I would stare at Rose's gown in the film trailers and say "THAT'S NOT ACCURATE." I hated the romantic goo in the movie. I was enthralled by the glimmering Edwardian fancyness (and the fact that it was a TRAGEDY--I was really into the Pompeii disaster at that time, too) but I couldn't stand any hint of kissy sap. My father once became concerned that I was having an epileptic seizure, because I dropped to the floor, gagging and wailing when Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet kissed in a commercial.

Around this time, I also purchased a book of saccharine Victorian poetry. I read Poe, Dickinson, Browning, Tennyson. I started to do weird things like declaring myself a poet, and writing in the rain with the ink dripping just to "experience the feeling". I did all of this as a 9 year old child, without the influence of opium. Other people's parents would have been concerned that their kid was trying to become a psychotic consumptive poet and immediately enroll them in public school, but mine thought it was cute; even when I surprised the plumber by wailing around the house in a black dress, pretending to mourn for something. Anyway, it was this unique feeling of surging cultural interest in the Victorian-Edwardian eras caused by the Titanic movie, a willing best friend, and a compulsion towards writing dramatic soap opera plots that began the childhood saga known as Motterstown.

More to follow in the next post. Stay tuned, you will witness embarrassing and incriminating childhood photos, stuffed animal romance, and letters that butcher grammar in many ways. http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

ETA: HARK. MY AGE DAWNS ANEW. Okay, I'm getting freaked out here...
http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2012/mar/01/titanic-drama-will-be-downton-on-sea
That looks wonderful, honestly. Also, WAY TO CASH IN, FELLOWES. Have I mentioned that this man also produced The Young Victoria (AKA, the movie that put all of my early teen fantasies into the vivid, saccharine limelight???).


And lo, the monstrosity has crawled up again from the deep, like Grendel's mother (with the dulcet tones of Celine Dion serving as its beastly roar)...NOW IN 3D.

http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/titanic-3d-release-ready-april-28621

This must be because...it's 2012. 100 years. Frightening, considering the impact this had on the first part of my life.