I Need a Jimmy or Anyone to Accept Me, Really
I am way too into the labored breathing of French Bulldogs.
As I was walking back from the bar yesterday one passed on the other-side of the street and I was like, "Omg, you're struggling so hard- you shouldn't be alive. THAT. IS. SO. FUCKING. CUTE."
I think I'm coming around to accepting smooshed-faced dogs. I still hate persians. The cats. Not the people. Although, I don't think the people are called Persian anymore. I'll have to look that up later.
The kitten has too many expectations of me. I can see it in her eyes. I probably think about her thoughts too often. Almost as often as I think about my own. Thinking about thinking feels so troublingly inceptionesque. I finally finished It's Kind of a Funny Story, and it wasn't really funny. Which in itself is kind of funny I guess. I mean, I can kind of get where it would have been funny to a teenager, but in my old age it just reeks of privilege. My ability to see this now annoys me a little bit. Although, maybe I would have said it sucked before, too, but with less thorough reasoning. Now I can say that it's more annoying because of the intense objectification of the few girls that are included in the story rather than just because the male protagonist isn't particularly compelling. It was still unnervingly relatable at some points. Especially the fleeting feeling of breaking free from your own thoughts. I was most upset that I could not relate to making art as means to calm oneself, though. I guess maybe writing does that for me a little bit? But still, all my pursuits are tinged by comparison against other more talented creators. I don't know how to turn off the comparison switch.
I guess watching TV helps, sometimes. I don't know actually. Nothing helps. That's ok, though. I am watching the second season of You're the Worst right now and it's making me feel better and lonelier all at once. I figure I'm only half as screwed up as these people so I'll definitely end up with a cute sardonic British guy eventually.
I have so many books right now. I bought an Associated Press Stylebook while I was last at Half Price in sort of a daze. It's like I forgot that I don't read. I do that a lot. Forget that I don't do something and then invest a bunch into it. My next excursion into the Not Me Zone is probably going to be dating again. I already made the mistake of messaging a couple of dudes on Bumble. I know I'm not ready. Nor do I truly want to. I just feel compelled because it seems to be the thing to do. Like everything else. Going with the flow is so problematic, it's too easy to get swept up in it. Confused by the current- and there's no rhyme or reason for where you are headed. It's just going to whirl back on itself- I made myself potatoes au gratin and forgot to put in the cheese powder. So, really, I made myself plain rehydrated potato-shaped cardboard, or whatever Betty Crocker is trying to pass off as something that once held nutrients. I have already devised a plan to double up on cheese powder with the next package of fauxtato.
I am also almost done with my hella cheap Christmas shopping, thanks Amazon Prime! But I'm generally running out of steam, I think. There are only 4 weeks left in the semester and like two and a half weeks left at my job. And I guess a little over two months left of the country. Maybe I should start sobbing alone in my car on a hill- something you will only get if you are about half way through the second season of You're the Worst. Like I am. Although, gerbils caused the plague.
I did try to watch the new shows that premiered this season, but the selection available was actually pretty limited because CW made that deal with Netflix. I have no idea how that is working out, but I know it's caused me to miss this whole season of Jane the Virgin, and so I will never forgive CW. I guess iZombie is probably on, too.
So there were like three new shows on ABC-
Conviction: which is definitely going to get cancelled and is not a good alternative use to Hayley Atwell. Peggy Carter should have just been given an extra season, there's no way Conviction has been getting better ratings. It's like all anyone wants to produce these days is some kind of Shonda-land-lite show. A troubled young woman fights against herself to fight for others and completely alienates the people around her as she does it. So tragic, so noble, so over done.
Notorious: Two very attractive people do morally ambiguous things and it's really only fun to watch because the main characters look like ethnically ambiguous Gap models. They're too conventionally attractive to be, like, runway models. It's no more compelling than Conviction, but actually might get picked up.
I'll do more of these later- but I want to just hang out with You're the Worst. It's a better show than most other shows right now. And I want to practice more french. Ta.
As I was walking back from the bar yesterday one passed on the other-side of the street and I was like, "Omg, you're struggling so hard- you shouldn't be alive. THAT. IS. SO. FUCKING. CUTE."
I think I'm coming around to accepting smooshed-faced dogs. I still hate persians. The cats. Not the people. Although, I don't think the people are called Persian anymore. I'll have to look that up later.
The kitten has too many expectations of me. I can see it in her eyes. I probably think about her thoughts too often. Almost as often as I think about my own. Thinking about thinking feels so troublingly inceptionesque. I finally finished It's Kind of a Funny Story, and it wasn't really funny. Which in itself is kind of funny I guess. I mean, I can kind of get where it would have been funny to a teenager, but in my old age it just reeks of privilege. My ability to see this now annoys me a little bit. Although, maybe I would have said it sucked before, too, but with less thorough reasoning. Now I can say that it's more annoying because of the intense objectification of the few girls that are included in the story rather than just because the male protagonist isn't particularly compelling. It was still unnervingly relatable at some points. Especially the fleeting feeling of breaking free from your own thoughts. I was most upset that I could not relate to making art as means to calm oneself, though. I guess maybe writing does that for me a little bit? But still, all my pursuits are tinged by comparison against other more talented creators. I don't know how to turn off the comparison switch.
I guess watching TV helps, sometimes. I don't know actually. Nothing helps. That's ok, though. I am watching the second season of You're the Worst right now and it's making me feel better and lonelier all at once. I figure I'm only half as screwed up as these people so I'll definitely end up with a cute sardonic British guy eventually.
I have so many books right now. I bought an Associated Press Stylebook while I was last at Half Price in sort of a daze. It's like I forgot that I don't read. I do that a lot. Forget that I don't do something and then invest a bunch into it. My next excursion into the Not Me Zone is probably going to be dating again. I already made the mistake of messaging a couple of dudes on Bumble. I know I'm not ready. Nor do I truly want to. I just feel compelled because it seems to be the thing to do. Like everything else. Going with the flow is so problematic, it's too easy to get swept up in it. Confused by the current- and there's no rhyme or reason for where you are headed. It's just going to whirl back on itself- I made myself potatoes au gratin and forgot to put in the cheese powder. So, really, I made myself plain rehydrated potato-shaped cardboard, or whatever Betty Crocker is trying to pass off as something that once held nutrients. I have already devised a plan to double up on cheese powder with the next package of fauxtato.
I am also almost done with my hella cheap Christmas shopping, thanks Amazon Prime! But I'm generally running out of steam, I think. There are only 4 weeks left in the semester and like two and a half weeks left at my job. And I guess a little over two months left of the country. Maybe I should start sobbing alone in my car on a hill- something you will only get if you are about half way through the second season of You're the Worst. Like I am. Although, gerbils caused the plague.
I did try to watch the new shows that premiered this season, but the selection available was actually pretty limited because CW made that deal with Netflix. I have no idea how that is working out, but I know it's caused me to miss this whole season of Jane the Virgin, and so I will never forgive CW. I guess iZombie is probably on, too.
So there were like three new shows on ABC-
Conviction: which is definitely going to get cancelled and is not a good alternative use to Hayley Atwell. Peggy Carter should have just been given an extra season, there's no way Conviction has been getting better ratings. It's like all anyone wants to produce these days is some kind of Shonda-land-lite show. A troubled young woman fights against herself to fight for others and completely alienates the people around her as she does it. So tragic, so noble, so over done.
Notorious: Two very attractive people do morally ambiguous things and it's really only fun to watch because the main characters look like ethnically ambiguous Gap models. They're too conventionally attractive to be, like, runway models. It's no more compelling than Conviction, but actually might get picked up.
I'll do more of these later- but I want to just hang out with You're the Worst. It's a better show than most other shows right now. And I want to practice more french. Ta.
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