Problematic

I have come to an interesting revelation. In English class we discussed "The Star" by Arthur C. Clarke, which is essentially a story regarding our relation to God. When I initially read the story I thought that the ending indicated some bizarre crossing of time and space in which the star that the company traveled to had been our Sun. I was terribly disappointed to find this was not the case. I don't know which is the better twist- just being the star of Bethlehem or the star of Bethlehem having been the destruction of some future selves. Perhaps my initial misunderstanding is too conventional at this point. I guess I wouldn't really care about some random civilization dying- nor really our own civilization dying. I assume people are as selfish as I am and would not be moved by this loss either. If we were capable of that scope of empathy I think it would be easier to get people to resolve problems on Earth. Not that there aren't people trying, but it's hard t

To continue the theme of Sufjan Stevens lyrics as titles. I have reconsidered the title of the sitcom and how it will run- but perhaps not to anyone's advantage. The new title I think will be "Derailed" Is that too close to Trainwrecked? I was thinking things over last night and realized there have probably been plenty of moments I would take back. One relationship in particular I would nullify for how completely it threw me off of my path. My life is basically Hindsight except there's far less white affluence involved. And attractive British people. I also hate the 90s. I am currently sitting in a McDonalds waiting for my car to be serviced. My hands still smell like goat cheese from the quiche I made yesterday. I have washed them several times. The smell of the McDonalds is a hard one to put into words without coming off as bourgeois. And possibly racist. It's inside of a Walmart and is primarily occupied by Hispanic people, myself included. It's loud i

I came up with a topical joke today: Congratulations to Kylie Jenner on turning 18! Now your relationship with 25-year-old Tyga doesn't seem as creepy! (The joke is that it's still creepy because this isn't the Middle Ages and child brides are generally considered a human rights violation.) I also thought of a small scene for like the intro to season 2 or 3 of Problematic should it ever actually become a thing: "The Girls" are in a car, chatting, and the scene is basically a Transporter style car-driving scene but it's clear that the girl driving isn't actually a good driver- she just happens to be getting away with near misses of potentially horrific accidents. At the end of that 45 seconds of whatever where the passenger is aware of danger of her friend driving and is becoming increasingly agitated, though they are still talking, the driver parks, or thinks she parks, and the car slides into, like, a bike rack or something as they step out of it. It wa

I have been technically unemployed for 3 days. I have done absolutely nothing. Some writing. Mostly watching. I still miss Penny Dreadful , I ran through that way too fast. Right now I am considering how to allow myself to be "goofy." Comedians are kind of goofy and I take myself way too seriously to be truly outrageous. Goofy just wasn't a big draw growing up. Nor was being opinionated. And it's really hard living alone so I kind of stifled both urges- although I guess the people I really enjoy being around are the people I feel I can be closest to myself with. Still there's always some kind of filter- I try to play to the crowd. I have realized as an artist I heavily rely on others wanting to be a part of my world. If I can't convince a large group of people that I am worth taking interest in I will never be successful. I have gone out of my way to avoid feeling at the mercy of society for so long but I now see that isn't feasible unless I repress my

I envy people with focus. I was reading recently about innovation and how Einstein considered creativity to be like juggling concepts and true unique thought occurred when two balls that were of the greatest distance collided. I like this imagery- I like the idea of sparks in the collision. I fear that none of my balls ever touch each other. (Insert ultra-juvenile joke about balls touching.) But honestly, the more original voices I find the less my own voice sounds original. Perhaps it is rose tinted perception- we're all equally original. Everyone is interesting and worth a story even in their own mundane way. However, I'd be happier if I felt not as particularly mundane. I also like the idea of thoughts as juggling balls because it would explain my resistance to completing things. The juggling never stops. It's tiring. A break when two balls hit would be a welcome change of pace. Better than to keep the eye constantly spinning as it tracks the balls. I wish balls were

I like to imagine this is just a terribly one-sided conversation. I'm kind of a selfish friend, so it works out pretty well. I like to think if you read this regularly we're just kind of coming together to hangout. Sometimes we may be drinking coffee, sometimes we may be drinking wine, who knows- the beverage options are endless! We chat for three to five minutes about things that range from John Oliver to the inane and then I disappear from your life for days to weeks at a time. POOF! My other desire, I have just now recognized, is for this blog to be one of the top search results when someone looks for John Oliver. And then the restraining order comes. I have pulled my GPA up in two semesters from a 1.7 to a 3.0. My youth was spent in self-medicated tears, so the 3.0 is a more accurate indicator of my capabilities. I'm a B as a person. Not particularly exceptional, but better than passing. I guess the 1.7 was pretty accurate too, I have been a mess. I'm just

I will have to invest some time in properly formatting this blog at some point. I have no idea what I want it to look like, but on a whim I decided to go back through the templates today. I discovered this rainy one that I felt was absolutely perfect. How dreary! Cloudy, sad, little blog. I also wanted to share my Spotify profile- for no real reason other than I have been sinking into a nostalgic melancholy of sound and I want you to be able to fall into the whine-based music of the mid-2000's with me. It's all The Decemberists, Interpol and The Killers around here. The Killers is probably the thing that most pains me to acknowledge of my former musical taste. This is particularly insulting to The Killers because I also hold a special place in my very twee heart for The Postal Service. Somehow the bizarre Mormon sound is still more shameful. Anyway, I wanted to share my Spotify profile, but I could not figure it out. I am blind to the correct use of Blogger. It is probably