Alvy Singer: Here, you look like a very happy couple, um, are you?
Female stranger: Yeah.
Alvy Singer: Yeah? So, so, how do you account for it?
Female stranger: Uh, I’m very shallow and empty and I have no ideas and nothing interesting to say.
Male stranger: And I’m exactly the same way.
Alvy Singer: I see. Wow. That’s very interesting. So you’ve managed to work out something?
Woody Allen’s Annie Hall (1977)
Resist the appeal of a storybook life, or else narrative patterns will become personal myths that poison your future.
You’ll break your life into chapters and set goals with three act structure and make friends and enemies according to archetype, all in a ridiculous attempt to trace your own character arc across the coming decades.
You’ll call this exercise dreaming, or worse, dreaming big, and your life will become a preamble to some distant happily ever after.
That would be a shame, because a storybook life is overrated. It is boring and safe and artificial as a teacup ride.
in case anyone has wondered why I’ve nearly vanished from the internet, it’s because I’m a depressed sack of shit. I don’t bother posting because I at least have the common decency not to complain about it to a bunch of strangers who don’t care. I’m spending this weekend on the couch with a roll of tissue and pack of marlboro lights. There’s not a goddamned soul left in this state I’ve known longer than a month. A coworker invited me to his party, but i lied and said i had plans because I was worried I’d end up hiding in the corner, sobbing into my egg nog. My family members have not returned a single phone call of mine in over 6 months since I moved out here. I came to start a new life that wasn’t overflowing with selfish assholes. I guess I got what I wanted. I’m completely alone. Not an asshole in sight.
I want to apologize to whoever I may have made feel bad for 15 seconds by reading this, but fuck it. No apology here. Everyone I know is with the people they love today. They are eating good food. They are getting presents. They are celebrating… something. I’m counting the hours until I get to go back to work because work is the only thing I have. I deserve a rant.
This holiday fucking sucks.
I woke up angry that Ryan Gosling isn’t in love with me.
This movie has ruined my life.
Thanks a fucking lot.
I was driving around here, running errands for work as this was happening.
I don’t like Hollywood.
thedailyfeed: A failed relationship may have been the catalyst that pushed Tyler Brehm, 26, over the edge and into a shooting spree on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood. Police said he walked down the street on Friday, firing randomly at pedestrians and passing cars until officers gunned him down.
