Some women want to be house wives and some women want to be Harvard professors and some women want to be porn stars and some women want to be nuns and some women want to be surgeons and there is nothing wrong with anyone’s profession I am sick of people being rude to women about their professions oh my god
This week I want to talk about the music of Bates Motel, which is progressively excellent episode after episode. In this episode, the show makes use of Phish’s Farmhouse for a scene where Dylan and his new lady friend in the weed business are driving up to her house. It struck me as weirdly perfect and pulled out of thin air. Unlike most TV, Bates doesn’t shy away from using popular or recognizable music. Often the mix of ominous suspense and Katy Perry creates a truly surreal environment.
I wanted to let you know that I am a huge fan, and I just listened through all the not-casts and really enjoyed them. I think it's a refreshing idea to hear a stream of thoughts in a small sample. I appreciate your thoughts and feelings on your depression and issues, as I don't suffer from it, but am married to someone who I know struggles with it, and it's nice to hear it from that side as it helps me in my daily life as I try to be the most supportive husband I can be. Have a great weekend!
Thank you so much! Your partner is lucky to have someone who is interested in being there for them! <3
You find a picture he sent you on her website and you decide you are done.
It’s a stupid, very modern way to have your suspicions confirmed but there it is, posted on the Internet like you wouldn’t find it. Like you wouldn’t remember him sending it to you on a night he didn’t want to reply with words. Like you wouldn’t see it linked to her and know she’d taken it, and know she’d sent it to him, and know they were talking.
In your limited experience, with the way they’ve been so terrible at keeping their dalliances secret, you’re actually surprised men are allowed to be in the CIA, or any intelligence agency. It’s been mind-blowing how lax they’ve been, in your experience.
You’ve been catching them since the beginning: chat rooms left open, full nights unaccounted for, bracelets resting on window sills, perfume lingering on towels. Hints and clues and “a friend” when you know he doesn’t have friends, not anymore. Come on.
Sometimes you think they want you to find out. There’s no way they could believe you’re that ignorant, right? The idea that they all — all of them — that they could strut around with that sort of sociopathic confidence makes you nauseous. You’re enough of a fool to fall for it, but not enough of one to remain blissful and unaware. You wish you were neither.
For them: Is it a thrill to get away with it or a thrill to leave crumbs around until you can’t step anywhere without feeling them sticking to the bottom of your socks? Push, push, push until you have to say something, but you don’t have enough evidence, enough logic. “I’ve done nothing wrong!”
How much make-up that isn’t yours left on counter tops or stains across once-clean sheets should you have to endure? Why do they have to be so obvious? Why can’t any of them at least have the decency to spare you?
You don’t wish they’d stop. Not really. You just wish they’d get better at hiding it.
Episode 4 of the Not-cast is about depression and nothingness. Very uplifting. The not-cast is where I talk into my phone for five minutes without stopping, or planning ahead. It’s therapy. It’s whatever comes out. No editing or holding back.
“I don’t consider myself a feminist, I prefer to call myself a humanist or an egalitarian.”— Pseudo-intellectual white dude who prefers to imagine that he’s more enlightened than feminists and also is uncomfortable with the thought that he’s part of the problem and also has a incorrect conception of feminism. (via womb-of-reefer)
Also I think afraid to identify as “fem” anything.
According to the Guardian’searly review of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, it’s the first time Black Widow has got to be an “actual character” rather than a “voluptuous female mascot.” Unfortunately, chief Guardian critic Peter Bradshaw’s follow-up was a little less sure of this, with Black Widow then being described as a “leather-clad… ass-kicking ex-Soviet adventuress whose auburn hairstyle is matched by her distinctive fake tan-type maquillage and restrained ochre lipstick.”
I’m glad he told us about her makeup routine, because otherwise that description would teach us next to nothing about her character.
In the Independent, Black Widow is a “sultry femme fatale,” although theTelegraph gives her the inaccurate but far more positive rating of “the most (the first?) complex female role in the Avengers franchise to date.”
Just for kicks, I took a look at the top reviews for The Avengers, to see what America’s most acclaimed and respected cinema critics thought of Black Widow back in 2012. Bear in mind that most of these quotes are the only description of Scarlett Johansson’s performance in the entire review.
In the New Yorker, Anthony Lane wrote, “not to be left out, Black Widow repels invading aliens through the sheer force of her corsetry,” while the Wall Street Journal’s Pulitzer-winning Joe Morgenstern complained, “Black Widow spends lots of time looking puzzled or confused.” New York Times reviewer A.O. Scott referenced the 1960s British spy series The Avengers(no relation), writing, “those poor souls who cherish old daydreams of Diana Rigg in leather will have to console themselves with images of Scarlett Johansson in a black bodysuit.”
I read somewhere that Norman actually, in Psycho's canon, is pretty good with women. He's handsome in a boyish way, and he's charming as evidenced by how Tony Perkins played him during the scenes with Marion Crane in 1960.
In Bates Motel, it’s no different. Freddie Highmore is what I’m calling “asexually attractive,” which takes into account his skinny, pale body and innocent face. We want him even though we know he’s a serial killer. (Or because we know that? Fuck, man.) We want to bring out that darkness we know is inside him. Highmore plays both sides with great balance.
Gaby, I come to you seeking advice. How do you know if something is worth pursuing? And how do I motivate myself to try when my brain keeps telling me how badly I'll fail if I do?
I think first you should examine why failure is the worst possible outcome to you. I would think, when you look back, “not even trying” might seem worse. Unless what you need motivation for is like, a murder spree, I’m pretty sure it’s worth it because you’re even asking. You’re answering your own question by caring so much as to seek advice on it.
So first, accept failure as a thing that happens on the way, and not the END. I fail all the time. I’ve written like, 13 versions of a rejected book proposal. I pitch magazines and never hear back. I’ve attempted a bajillion projects that didn’t work out, auditioned for a bunch of stuff I didn’t get, and so on and so forth.
Anything you want to do, you’re gonna fail A LOT because that’s life, but that’s not the end, that’s just part of it. You can’t control what happens, only your reaction to what happens and what you do after. (I stole that from my therapist.) So fail a thousand times and then keep going and doing it. It doesn’t end until you die! (Uplifting!)
Hi! I love your writing, and wanted to ask you how you deal with/have dealt with internalized biphobia (if you have). I'm bi and in a long-term relationship with a girl but still can't seem to get over these feelings of guilt, unbelonging, and self-doubt/hatred about my sexuality, which I feel silly about because I should be totally confident in my identity by this point. If this is too personal I apologize, but would love your thoughts on this if you're comfortable!
Firstly, hardly anything is too personal. No need to apologize. If it is, I just won’t answer it!
Secondly, there is no right way to feel. You don’t have to fit into any sort of category in terms of how you feel about your identity. Other people might seem SUPER secure in themselves, but it’s mostly, in my opinion, just posturing based on insecurity. You don’t have to prove anything outside of being in a relationship with the person you presumably love. Like, I spent a long time trying to be “gay enough” to prove something to ex-girlfriends’ friends who looked down on me for having dated men in the past, and it’s bullshit.
There’s no meter we all have to stand under for our gay levels to be measured. Even the gayest gay I know has dabbled in straight sex, or threesomes, or whatever. This idea that bisexuals are outside and deserving of scorn from both sides is so stupid.
But it’s thrust on you, not something you made up, you know? So don’t feel guilty for feeling — on top of already feeling bad. You’re allowed to let it bother you, because it sucks. It’s something you should be annoyed by — but turn that anger outwards rather than inwards.
You’re in a great relationship and other people are dicks about it. Everything surrounding identity is made up! We joke that all lesbians love cats or wear crocs or listen to Melissa Etheridge, but really we’re just using these pop culture qualifiers to say we love women. That’s what we have in common. So I guess my advice would be to let it affect you, and then turn it outward into something that empowers you.
You love your girlfriend, so fuck it. That’s pretty damn gay.
Each morning, when I leave his apartment, I write him a note. He is always asleep, mouth ajar, hair askew. The comforter and sheet are usually scrunched down around his waist, his hands wrapped around the end, like maybe in his sleep he decided to get up but then thought better of it.
Once I stood up in the middle of the night to get water and he barked, “Where are you going?” like a military commander addressing a new recruit. In the morning, he didn’t remember doing it.