Summary

The website content recounts personal memoirs of first-time experiences, including watching "The Sixth Sense," working at a movie theater, and writing fiction, with reflections on the impact of these events on the author's life.

Abstract

The author shares a series of poignant first-time experiences, beginning with the revelation of never repeating certain activities, such as seeing the movie "The Sixth Sense" in 1999. The narrative includes a list of iconic films from that year and the unique opportunity the author had to see movies for free due to their father's negotiation with a local theater. The essay also touches on the author's work at a movie theater concession stand, where repetitive ads and music videos, including Sting's "Desert Rose," played incessantly. The author reflects on the transformative experience of writing fiction in second grade, which served as an outlet for truth amidst personal challenges, and how storytelling became a cornerstone of their life and career.

Opinions

The author believes that seeing "The Sixth Sense" from the beginning, despite missing the start, was still impactful due to the film's memorable twist.
There is a sense of nostalgia and a touch of humor in the recollection of the author's movie-going habits and the tradition of repeated viewings with their twin brother.
The author expresses a mix of fondness and exasperation regarding the repetitive nature of working concessions, particularly the constant loop of ads and music videos.
Cheb Mami's vocals in "Desert Rose" are described as haunting and captivating, suggesting a deep appreciation for the song.
The author's first experience with writing fiction is portrayed as a significant and empowering moment, especially considering the personal struggles they were facing at the time.
There is a clear sense of pride and fulfillment in the author's current career as a storyteller, which began with that early encounter with creative writing.
The transformation of the Clinton movie theater into a mega-church is noted with a sense of finality and perhaps a touch of regret, indicating a loss of a place that held significant memories.

Memoir Shorts

#MyFirstTime Doing Stuff I’ll Never Do Again

My first time was definitely my last time

Graphic by author, elements composited from photos by robin mikalsen and Guy Kawasaki on Unsplash

Whether it was a moment or a lifetime ago, shout it out with me:

Never again!

My First Time Seeing The Sixth Sense

1999 was a ridiculous year for movies. Big breath, okay?

The list includes:

The options were endless, but for a sixteen-year-old trans girl, all I needed was one ticket.

By this point, our dad was running a successful lawn maintenance business (despite continuing to claim $0 on his income taxes lol). Our local theater at the time was run by United Artist. He negotiated the movie theater version of a Golden Ticket: unlimited entry for his family.

The only question was which movie to see first

You have to remember that in 1999, M Night Shyamalan was a nobody. His biggest movie was a picture co-starring Rosie O’Donnell called Wide Awake. I didn’t know anything about him, his brand, or The Sixth Sense.

But I did know a lot of people had gone to see it.

Besides, when it came to me and my identical twin brother going to the movies, we saw everything. We saw each movie once, twice, as many times as we wanted.

It’s a tradition I like to think started that time my brother saw Disney’s The Three Musketeers (the awesome one with the amazing cast, amazing soundtrack, and amazing Tim Curry), me and my dad came to find him, and he just sat there until the movie played again.

Wow was it worth it.

This time, we went to see The Sixth Sense.

We went to the auditorium expecting to wait a while before the next screening, but the lights were off.

We were just in time to start the movie

We heard voices, not the stuff from a trailer or anything, so the movie must have started, but it couldn’t have been on for too long.

We sat down. How much could we have missed?

The thing is that for The Sixth Sense, we could have missed almost every second of the movie and still gotten a taste of what turned Shyamalan into a household name.

Every moment, that is, except those few key moments when Bruce Willis returns to finally have an honest conversation with his wife and…

Well…

I can only imagine what it was like for everyone else to see that movie for the first time. For me? I knew the twist from the beginning.

I’ll just count myself lucky that I didn’t hit my head so hard that I forgot I saw it in the first place. If I ever start to forget, this scene from 50 First Dates will give me instant deja vu.

My First Time Working Concessions at a Movie Theater and Hearing Sting’s “Desert Rose”

To save up for my first car, I worked concessions at a movie theater over the summer in Clinton, MS. The overhead screens played the same pre-recorded suite of ads and music videos over and over and over and over. I still dream of what that shift could have been like if they’d just played a movie now and then. Even a public domain classic!

But the video at this theater was full of paid ads, see, and one of them was the music video to Sting’s “Desert Rose.” When I heard Cheb Ami’s vocals, I forgot that I longed to be anywhere else. To see anything else. To hear anything else.

I can still smell the artificial butter drizzling onto the popcorn — and I can still hear Cheb Mami’s haunting vocals in the opener to one of Sting’s best mid-career songs.

Bonus: This was also the first and last time I brought myself to Google what Cheb has been up to lately O_o

Bonus 2: WJTV reported in 2016 that this movie theater has since then been converted into a mega-church. I couldn’t go back even if I wanted to, and it seems the good lord saw fit to ensure I never will.

My First Time Writing Fiction

Graphic by author, elements composited from photos by Nathan Dumlao and Laura Kapfer

It was second grade at Southwest Academy (offsite) in Jackson, MS.

I wrote a story that wasn’t that good but did stuff no one else’s did.

It was a mystery/thriller in which a young heroine’s best friend gets kidnapped, and it’s up to her to follow the clues to save him. It turned out the driver’s truck had an oil leak substantial enough to leave a trail for her to follow.

I couldn’t get enough of how the class responded.

The other students scoffed. Few people there liked me. Most didn’t understand. I’d tell you they didn’t want to, but we were kids. Compassion was in short supply even for the best of us.

I’d already gone to the hospitals once, twice. I kept telling people things were happening that my brother, my sister, and my parents insisted were lies. I only understood recently how deeply they went to cover up what they’ve done.

The only people who encouraged me to tell the truth were the people at the hospital. I told them as much as I could, then tried to hold on to the truth when they sent me home until the next catastrophe.

In the meantime, I’d have to tell the truth through my stories.

My English teacher encouraged me to write again. And I did. I made a frickin’ career out of storytelling.

I made friends and colleagues and discoveries (offsite to Stephenie Edits) about myself that opened because telling and selling stories ended up being the thing I’m best at — and wow am I lucky for it to also be the thing I love second only to my IRL family.

I wish I could go back in time to that little girl in second grade and tell her the sliver of hope she found on a piece of paper isn’t there just for now.

One day, that first time will be every time.

It’ll stay with her for the rest of her life.

#MyFirstTime Not Getting To See The Matrix

Gonna get denied entry like it’s 1999

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