Being a crazy movie girl aka developing cinematic obsessions and pumping yourself full of film knowledge and being under the age of 30 probably means you have a lot to talk about on first dates but also that you'll have watched enough indie cinema to recognize the tropes of the 'manic pixie dreamgirl' and you can see when you're washing draped around your flat looks like a scene out of bertolucci's 'the dreamers'.

if you know the heroines of bokeh'ed films, all soft grading and alot of smokes, bad attitudes, carefree attitude to casual sex, alcohol, mentally ill and can't hold a job down but never without some bitchin good lingerie poking out of a shirt or long flowing hair and a middle to end montage of sadness, yeah these girls people pine to be, the muse, but what happens when that IS your life and there is no man to save you from yourself?

thats the problem with being represented in movie, being borderline/bipolar, sick in general gives off this untouchable glaze of being interesting, but also just waiting around to be rescued, which gives the ultimate crossroad choice of either dying from suicide or a drug overdose or falling in love despite initial reservations and letting some nice good hearted guy patch you up, to realise oh shit no you weren't crazy, you didn't have a mental illness you were just acting up until you get a boyfriend. its a dangerous thing, because what if you do live that airy fairy galleries on a friday night, wake up with a stranger lifestyle but essentially you have nobody to hold back your hair when you puke or to rub you when your chronic illness pains kick in? why does the girl have to be saved, she needs to save herself.