Twelve and Holding is an incredible movie. I remember once when I was 18, in San Francisco visiting a friend and we went to see Igby Goes Down. He had been going through some things with his family, and the movie really hit him- hit him in a way that he was vacant when we left the theater. Going to the bus stop, he walked yards ahead of me and had nothing to say. And later made him tell me he never wanted to see me again. It all turned out fine in the end, but that movie must have been a little too real to go on ignoring whatever was bothering him.

My reaction to Twelve and Holding wasn't quite as explosive on the outside, but it taped on a lot of things inside. The story was thick with childhood traumas, and 12 yearolds trying to cope with their lives in ways that seem far beyond appropriate for their age. The specifics didn't matter so much as just seeing kids struggle in ways that I remember struggling. Most people don't remember their childhoods as a series of dramatic events- at least they don't express it- but I do. Remembering my life feels like a film. Like a fabricated story. I want to write it down.