I've been everything from wide-eyed and enchanted to an artist chasing a muse to a blue-collar stiff just trying to make a dollar in them.
Doing so has doodled in the margins of my upbringing and background in dozens of ways I can barely notice until it's pointed out.
I was well into my twenties before I shook a woman's hand more often than I kissed it.
I've fought real-life wars with Shakespeare verses written across my gear.
The villages that raised me have been there through just about every life change you can imagine.
My preferred spot on Memorial day is a corner of a pub, surrounded by people in funny clothes, and that's before you take a look at the ghosts.
The life has left its marks on me, so to speak.
And, like anyone raised in a subculture, seeing it depicted in media for the consumption of those declared "normal" gets weird fast.
This must be what children raised in Hippie communes must feel like watching old Cheech & Chong routines.
I've seen the villages that raised me dramatized by the likes of Mike Judge, Christina Ricci, Will Smith, and George Romero, among others. Most of which I can laugh off, much in the way I imagine Christians can laugh off the concept of Jesus being a supporting character on South Park. Mileage varying.
I have yet to see American Princess.
I know my background is going to color the experience to say the least.
Maybe I'll enjoy it, maybe I won't.
I'm already seeing some Rennies reacting like gunbunnies bitching about an action movie's inaccuracies.
But, as I've experienced with War movies, among others, I've found that if the story is good enough to make a world I can enjoy, my disbelief can hang on the wall next to my cloak.