It's My Fucked Up Head and I'll Cry (or Not) If I Want To

I've been to a few funerals where I haven't cried thinking about those RIPing. It's weird because I'm pretty awesome at crying when it comes to movies and even some TV shows. One time I was watching Tracy Morgan in a faux sentimental scene on 30 Rock and I welled up and got chokey. That was uncomfortable. He was saying how thankful he was for his posse who always had his back and then he made an extremely forced sad face and I felt a genuine tear building in my eye. I almost slapped myself for making me feel so awkward. "That's what you get for crying at jokes."

More recently I was driving home, listening to Marc Maron's WTF podcast and Lisa Lampanelli mentioned the movie "Field of Dreams" and how everyone loses it during the scene when they play catch. I lost it in my car. I didn't even have to watch the movie. I heard someone give a one second synopsis of a scene and I had streams down my cheeks, yet when someone from my extended family dies I could care less. I guess that makes me an ultra sensitive dick. There's got to be some kind of middle ground: I should be able to cry at least a little when someone I'm related to dies and maybe during a movie dealing with the holocaust ("Indiana Jones" not included, although I'd let "Inglorious Basterds" slide ).

I do feel guilty about not feeling sad at funerals though so what I'm going to do now is imagine dead relatives within the context of movies I've cried during. "Aunt Betty, I'll miss you. I still remember the time our plane crashed in the Andes and I had to eat your butt cheeks to stay alive." Or "Great Uncle Gary, it's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault..." and of course, "Oh Cousin Jackie, don't call me Shirley."