reverse hades/persephone, where the young daughter of summer uses plant magic to ensnare the lord of darkness and keep him prisoner in a beautiful garden above ground. Eventually, enchanted by her cleverness and wild youth he agrees to eat six pomegranate seeds and stay with her for half of every year.
so can i ask you for your thoughts on "love actually"? i haven't seen it, but i remembered that you have, and well. you know why i'm asking now.
Oh, M, you know all the best pressure points. I do indeed have thoughts—extensive, gesticulative thoughts—about Love, Actually. My thoughts will probably put me at odds with mainstream tumblr, but this cannot be helped. There are people who love Love, Actually for reasons I respect, but there are not many of them. For the most part, Love, Actually is a mirage and what people say/think they love about it was not actually in the goddamn film, it was in their much pleasanter imagination.
See, the reason films of books shorten so much is that the scope of a two-hundred page novel and a two-hour film is vastly different. A film must be narrow. What can be done in one sentence in a novel takes sometimes half an hour of film time. We don’t have the time to waste. One of the best films I ever saw was basically one lady visiting her best friends twice and it was the most complex, jam-packed two hours of film ever. Love, Actually wants you to believe that you can have two dozen separate and equally valid plotlines for fully fleshed out characters.
This is a lie.
They’re hollow things, those characters. No one gets more than a flashpoint of characterization. They often take the basest level of the character you can tell they were aiming at—sassy and intelligent young workaholic or middle-aged man facing his fear of death through inanities or grieving widower coming to terms with loss and new responsibilities—and they shorthand it. A movie of any one of those plotlines would have given you the cushioning you needed to sympathize with those characters. Instead of jumping to the point where we’re supposed to think it’s romantic to stalk your best friend’s fiancee and keep her in an open doorway in winter so that you can show her your super special cue cards of emotion, we could have built up a backstory about them—I don’t know—having a strong bond over cue cards. Something. Something that would have made it slightly palatable that this man thinks flashcards are a valid expression of devotion or that having handwritten flashcards somehow trumps all the betrayal and vanity of this stupid, empty gesture.
This is a film that fandom was made to fix. Hell, it was a film to promote fandom even for those who would never think of themselves as someone who participates in something like fandom. You can’t watch this film and accept it on its own terms. It begs to be fixed.
When the holidays arrive and someone inevitably wants to watch this film, I take great pleasure in prodding the people around until they tell me their conception of the film. It’s always better than the thing on the TV.
I’m trying to find this great graphic I saw ages ago about types of fanfic, where, say, the source text would be a continuous line, and an augmenting fanfic would be a line that takes off at at angle, or an AU would be a line separate from the canon line—does this ring a bell with anyone?
Our downstairs toilet cracked in half and flooded (clean water, thank goodness) the downstairs last night. We managed to cut off the water eventually, but we covered the floor in blankets and towels to stem the tide. A maintenance guy was here for the past three hours this morning installing a new toilet.
ME: The toilet is fixed now.
WORST ROOMMATE EVER: What?
ME: The toilet is fixed. It flooded yesterday?
WORST ROOMMATE EVER: Is it broken?
ME: No, it’s fixed now.
WORST ROOMMATE EVER: I’m sorry.
ME: No, I’m just telling you it’s fixed now. In case you were wondering about all the wet towels and blankets on the floor.
WORST ROOMMATE EVER: No.
I honestly don’t know how she missed it. She must have registered their presence and then assumed we had decorated the floor with molding fabric for shits and giggles.
Over the holiday, my sister told me my taste in media is confusing and inconsistent. Then she complained that my dad does not understand her tastes when she is obviously so good at understanding other people’s. Irony was not noted.
A dog is the only creature in the world that will give you 100% of its love for 10% of yours. Dogs inspire us to be worthy of them. #ILoveDogsOK #EverythingIsBetterWithDogs
So, since you, fine, I brought it up….
I have been told by, like, four different cat owners in the past week that they wouldn’t be able to deal with how clingy a dog is.
Are you guys serious?
I stayed with my dad for the holidays and he has three cats, all of whom think it’s an insult if your attention (or hands) have momentarily shifted from the important work of petting them. I can just tell my dog to sit somewhere else and she does and then I get back to work. At worst, she’ll creep under my desk and warm my feet. Mostly, though, she’s happy so long as we both dose ourselves with the outside world once a day and take bathroom breaks.
And I’ve never met a cat who would let you nap on her the way my dog does.
Every additional post about your roommate just makes my jaw drop further (at this rate it’ll be in the basement). Does she behave this way everywhere? Has she never been called out on her behavior? How is she not aware of her own rudeness?
She behaves the way the awful roommate in a sitcom, actually. It blows my mind that she’s real.
She opened the door to the bathroom while I was getting in the shower.
At least this time I was able to guess her wonky reasoning and thus avert the typical encounter after she’s done something like this where I just stare at her with my mouth open and she leaves thinking she’s explained her behavior and it is thus fine in future.
Her: But I didn’t come in the bathroom.
Me: Ah, yes, but you opened the door which is also not acceptable.
Her: But I wanted to get something from the bathroom.
Me: You are welcome to wait until after I’ve showered.