But I was, and am, a Carrie Fisher fan. My fangirldom came from the work she did and the post-teen-Princess-Leia woman she was. I loved the way she created painful, searing, remarkable humor; the way she told stories with surgical precision —"Surrender the Pink," "Delusions of Grandma," and "Wishful Drinking." I admired how her mother's most selfish tendencies were handled in "Postcards from the Edge" with care and understanding. I treasured her genuine portrayal of real women on camera, and how she often stole the scene when she did. How she told off movie execs and other critics - in the way so many of us who don't look like we did at 20 wish we could - and said, "I swear, when I was shooting those films I never realized I was signing an invisible contract to stay looking the exact same way for the rest of my existence.”
I loved her openness and honesty about herself; about her struggles with regular human issues and superhuman mental health issues, and the generosity and self-deprecation she employed to keep moving forward and to help herself and others heal.
She was candid and gutsy, and from what one can tell about her through interviews and close friends' reflections, she closed off her life - full up to her Leia double-donut hairstyle - with integrity.
She could be counted on to point out that the emperor had no clothes, even as everyone else was admiring the cut of nonexistent finery. Kind of like what's happening today. Maybe she could see the future when she tweeted, "You know those days when things keep getting worse faster than U can lower your standards?"
Yes, Ms. Fisher, we know. Thank you for doing it right. We're so sorry you're gone, and not just for your talent ... because we would love to have your voice right now. But there is a lesson in your passing. Those of us who are witness to the parade, and wonder why so many are not pointing at the nakedness ... we need to get our Carrie on.
© 2016 A Bit of Brie/Anitabrie
