I’m trying my best to keep up with this whole writing daily thing despite having quite a lot going on offline. I’m convincing myself that writing is good for my mental state, so I’m choosing to keep showing up. At least nothing completely tragic has happened, and I’m refusing to become pessimistic. I’ve put on my entire armour of positivity and I’m hoping the universe decides to be kind to me and everyone around me for a while.
Anyway, I needed to temporarily escape everything happening around me, so I decided to watch a Nollywood film. It was one of those heavily hyped movies everyone seems to have an opinion about, so naturally, I wanted to watch it for the most unserious reason possible. I wanted to point out all the cliches, roll my eyes at the predictable romance and internally complain about the dialogue. In case you’re wondering, yes, this is how I have fun sometimes so don’t udge me.
I was settling into my little cinema room when my mother strolled in with a sigh and decided to join me.
At first, I was actually happy about it. It’s a little comforting having company while watching a movie, especially when you’re trying to take your mind off everything else.
Unfortunately, that happiness lasted approximately three minutes. Because my mother started asking questions. So many questions. And not the kind of questions that make you think about the movie though, she was asking me questions as though I had personally written the screenplay.
Like please ma’am, I am watching this for the first time too. I had already told her that and she also knows that I am probably one of the least likely people to watch a movie twice. If it’s animated, that’s a different story. I can watch a really good animated movie several times and still enjoy it. But a regular movie? Once I’ve seen it, I’ve seen it. If it’s exceptionally good, I’ll probably carry it around in my head for the next six months, randomly remembering scenes while doing completely unrelated things. But going back to watch it? No thank you.
So my mother was essentially asking questions of someone who had absolutely no answers. Then I realised that she wanted spoilers. My mother LOVES spoilers. She wants to know what happens before it happens. Literally wants the entire mystery removed, down to probably what the director had for breakfast while filming the final scene.
I don’t know where she got this habit from. Actually, I do. My little brother. Definitely him because he enables her by giving the spoilers.
I don’t like talking while I’m watching a movie. I want to experience it first. I just like to sit there silently screaming at the screen. Then, once the credits start rolling, we can have a proper discussion. That’s only when I’m ready. We can dissect the characters, analyse their choices, argue about the ending and discuss whether the romance made sense. I am completely available for that conversation.
But during the movie? Please I just want to exist peacefully. My mother, however, was not built that way. Watching a movie with her sometimes makes me feel like a being snail so I can retreat into my shell and hide from the questions, commentary and occasional complaints about the characters.
I tried though, I genuinely tried to answer her but eventually, I started giving her fewer and fewer responses until I think she finally understood the message and stopped asking. And then the movie ended. Surprisingly, it was actually interesting. I wasn’t expecting that.
After the credits rolled, I told my mother I could never take her to an actual cinema.
She is currently beefing with me because of this. Apparently, I have offended her. But honestly, imagine paying cinema money only to spend the entire movie whispering answers to someone who is determined to know the ending before the movie gets there. I would be escorted out.
And yet, as dramatic as she is, I have to admit she’s cute with it sometimes. Lol
PS: forgive my title. I just didn’t know what to do with it. Lol
Posted Using INLEO
