i just had the funniest experience in vr chat, i joined a random server and the one i joined had Japanese people so i waddled around in my goofy club penguin avatar that i have saved, after a while a guy walks up to me and clones my avatar so were both penguins then another guy shows up and clone my avatar
now keep in mind there only speaking Japanese i don’t know what they are saying, then another guy joins in, so i got a group of three penguin friends
we just waddle around and goof about, the one of them tries to talk to me, but not only do i not have a mic i also don’t speak Japanese, they figure out i don’t speak Japanese and start listing various places, they get the part of being European right, and after listing a lot of places they ask if im from the UK and when i nod they all just start cheering. after hanging out for a while one of them gets real close to me and whispers…
can we give it up for Suzanne Collins for fucking off into oblivion with her money after hunger games fucking destroyed the YA market for like 6 years. everything YA was dystopian “EVERYONES IN A DIFFERENT QUADRANT” shit from 2010 to 2016 and we didnt hear a peep from her. true fucking power.
In highschool I wrote a story about a middle-generation of stellar travelers. Their parents were born on earth and left as children, and the middle generation will not live long enough to see their destination. They live their entire lives on the ship and I wrote about them trying to find their place in everything. They will never know blue skies and warm beaches and open fields with warm breezes. They’ll never know birdsong or crickets or frogs. They’ll never hear the rain on the roof of a dreary day. I never could find the right way to end the story. I wanted it to be a happy ending, but I didn’t know how to do it.
I realize now that it was a book about me dealing with depression before I even knew it. Looking back at how blatant the projecting was, it’s obvious now. It wasn’t then.
In the story, the middle-generation people are lost. They’re apathetic. They’re just a placeholder. The only job they have is to keep the ship running, have kids, and die. As the middle generation of people began becoming adults, suicide rates were skyrocketing. Crime and drug rates were jumping. This generation was completely apathetic because they felt that they had no use.
In the story, a small group of people in the middle-generation create the Weather Project. They turn the ship into a terrarium. They make magnificent gardens and take the DNA of animals they took with them and recreate them and they make this cold, metal spaceship that they have to live their entire lives on into a home. They take what little they have and they break it and rearrange it into something beautiful. They take this radical idea and turn the ship into a wonderful jungle of trees and birds and sunshine.
And I realize now how much it reflects my state of mind as I transitioned from a child into an adult while dealing with depression. You always hear “it gets better” and “when you’re older things will be easier” and I was so sick of waiting for it to get better. I was in the middle-generation stage. And I was sick of it. I was so sick of waiting.
When I was in highschool I didn’t know how to end the story. I didn’t know how to have a happy ending. I didn’t have the life experience then to finish the story in a meaningful way. I didn’t know how to make it better for these middle-generation characters.
But now that I’m older, I’m learning. That if you sit and wait for things to get better, it never will. You have to take your life and break it apart and rearrange it into something beautiful. You have to make the cold metal ship into the garden that you deserve. You have to make your own meaning. You have to plant your own garden.
You have to teach yourself that being happy is not a radical idea.
i think “i wish platonic dates with friends were a thing” is another way of saying “i want a deep emotional intimacy.” it’s a new age. shallow friends are easy to find and hard to let go. the two of you can sit for coffee, talking about nothing, secretly texting under the table that you want to leave. she begs you to come to the party but abandons you once you’re through the door. he won’t talk to you outside of class, won’t even look at you even though two weeks ago you kissed.
it’s the age of the internet and our empathy is evolving. yes, isn’t long-distance now so easy. there’s a lot we have to be thankful for.
but there’s a lot that’s changing. there’s no words for the emotion you feel when someone is taking a picture with you that you know is only happening because they want to look fun and popular and you’re a prop; there’s no word for when you know it’s because you’re uglier than them and it makes them look good - there’s no word for watching people socialize for social media credit. we know it happens. not just “hang on let me take a picture of my food.” not just “i’ve got to text my mom back, one sec.” i mean that strange distance between two people who comment on each other’s posts but cannot connect in person. i mean you pour out your soul on twitter but then clam up in person. i mean internet loneliness; the sensation of 212 thousand followers and still so empty, knowing if the plane goes down, the ocean of the internet will wash out your memory.
“i want a friend date,” she says, and he snorts - you mean friends?
it’s hard, sometimes. finding a best friend. when i was little i had an assignment about it. i remember crying in the hallway because i didn’t have one. everyone else in class did. i wrote about my shadow. i didn’t fit in. over the years i’ve had a couple. one turned out pure evil. a few were my best friend but i wasn’t theirs, in the end. a lot just drifted from me until we were only friends by nostalgia, not connection. but i ached for the feeling of a best friend the whole time: the person you can be silent with, the person you can be wild with, the person you can be 100% yourself with.
we live in a society where romance is said to be the only space you’re allowed to really be close with someone. how many of us have said to make sure you marry your best friend. we know from dating that there exists a kind of connection we don’t always get in our friends - even a platonic one, a connection of spirit, a freedom of behavior.
i get it. a platonic date sounds wonderful. it’s not hurting anybody. let’s both have three seconds where we’re honest with each other in a raw kind of way. it’s terrifying. or we could just talk about what’s bothering you. i’m also still fucked up about the avatar: the last airbender ending; i also don’t get katara and aang.
it’s about trust. about vulnerability. so yeah. maybe i’ve done all kinds of platonic-date things. but i’ve also had the opposite happen: the non-friend. someone you don’t want to cut out, not necessarily - but not someone you can tell your secrets to in the end. i think what we’re all asking for is to be less lonely. we want to get close to people, but we don’t want to seem like we’re hitting on somebody.
come on out with me. we’ll both dress up and drink wine and split the bill and talk about deep things. be best friends for a moment. lord knows i need one. what i’m asking is for a quick moment of emotional intimacy. of reality. of not-just-here-for-the-party. i think a date sounds lovely.
I wish I could remember the name of the actress who went ballistic after being told that, at 35, she was too old to play the love interest for the 55-year-old lead.
It was Maggie Gyllenhall. And I stand corrected, she was 37.
Damn
As much as we like to hate on Scarlett, please look at her chart. Her first film with a love interest:
