- There’s a scene in Pitch Perfect 2 where Anna Kendrick is newly hired at a record label, I forget what position exactly, an assistant or something. She makes a comment that the boss overhears, and when he asks, “Who are you?” she replies: “Nobody. Literally nobody.” But she’s not nobody. She has a name, and she has a position that’s relevant to the company. They hired her, didn’t they? She talks about herself in that way because she sees a hierarchy where she means nothing. I couldn’t make myself watch any further that time but I don’t need to watch any further to know that her throwaway comment will just so happen to be crucial to whatever plotting and scheming they’re working on. But in real life, a reply like that – a mentality like that – will pretty much ensure that you do become nobody, even if you started out with potential.
- I’m working on a theory of identity as based on factors that can be classified basically into two categories: addictions and loves. What the two have in common is that they are a person’s vulnerabilities. In the super cheesy and super awesome movie Spy Kids, the evil villain says of this married couple: “Gregorio and Ingrid were two agents that never really had a weakness. Now they have two.” He was referring to their two children (the titular spy kids). The difference between addictions and loves is that addictions allow you just to keep existing, and loves make you alive.
- I wrote my favorite porn star this morning and got an automated message back saying to direct fan mail to her social media accounts, which makes me a bit sad.
- If I had a girlfriend I’d be saying all this over the phone and the poor kid wouldn’t get enough sleep. Instead I’m writing it here now, and everyone who wants to can read it. I guess that’s an upside to this whole situation.
- “I DON’T KNOW IF I’M ALLOWED TO DO THIS! THAT’S WHY I’M DOING IT! THEN I’LL KNOW! AND I’M SORRY I’M SHOUTING!” – Terry Pratchett, The Truth / me all the time in my life
- I’m so emotionally ready to be married. I think about it all the time. Nobody else does. Then someday they’ll find themselves married and screaming at little humans who look like them. How could they think it would make them happy when they never really wanted it in the first place? When their hearts were never ready for it – always looking for something somehow more exciting around the next corner?
- I used to write to people. There was always someone I missed. I miss no one, not even S. Not that kind of missing, the one where huge chunks of myself shaped like them had walked off and wandered somewhere they could not be brought back from. Not like that. Do you wonder why artists cherish their darkness? Because the blankness that comes before color and light is terrifying in its unfamiliarity…