Embracing the Messiness — Also, I might have Dissociative Identity Disorder

Endless Rewrite

I don’t have many flaws; I’m beautiful, smart, compassionate, have a massive vocabulary and I can eat a giant bucket of KFC without ever getting sick. People look at me and think: “That girl just has it all. Style, flair, wit and enough sex appeal to make Brad Pitt pick up a phone in the middle of the night and give her a call.” I know this because I can also read people’s mind with surprising accuracy. It’s hard to believe but I really am that amazing.

When you take a minute think about it, you realize how impressive it is that in the face of my own flawless perfection I’ve managed to remain such a humble soul. I’m not a person who writes blogs to tell the entire world how amazing I am, nor do I feel the need to send a dozen tweets into the webosphere every single time I sneeze rainbows and fart roses.

Instead of becoming an intolerable douche bag, I like to think I’ve kept myself grounded, honest and approachable. One of the ways I do that, is by trying to blend in. For instance, sometimes I pretend to make a mistake so everyone else doesn’t feel so intimidated by my greatness. Like this one time when I was six I cut my own hair and let’s just say I could have done a better job at it. And the other day, I pretended to not be able to do maths in my head because I mix up the numbers and they make no sense because who decided 1+1=2 anyway?

Oh, and there was this one time… Never mind, I won’t go into that, because you possibly just had dinner and I don’t want to make you feel sick.

But let’s be honest, for a minute – weren’t you honest already, Janneke. You incredible beacon of humanity, you shining light of perfection, you Goddess of humility and decency?  – First of all, I don’t appreciate your sarcasm. It’s not very becoming on someone who doesn’t really exist and I’m making up as I’m typing this.

What, I meant every single word I said. I’m sure that if you are ever less than perfect, it is only on purpose to make us ‘lesser people’ not feel so insignificant.

Exactly. I’m glad you get me. It’s almost like you are part of me and also read everything I said above.

I did and I am. And I am here to tell you that you have problem and should see a doctor.

Enough about you, let’s talk about me some more.

But if I’m only pretending that I am far from perfect, I am very good at it. I am arrogant, selfish and I don’t think I can actually eat a bucket of KFC without being violently ill. In fact, my own imperfection keeps me up at night. I always feel like I should be better, different, kinder and less guarded. I’m pretty sure there are quite a few indicators in my childhood as to why that is, but that’s not the point right now.

The point it that I constantly have this need to be better. Not so much better than everyone else, because let’s face it, there are few opinions and people I care more about than my own and myself.

No, I feel like I should be better than I am… Which is a fucking pain in my ass. Because I’ll spend forever going over everything I said and did and how I should have said and could’ve done it better. I know this is the same for every person, and it is how we learn. But I have a harder time letting things go. In some cases it will take me years to get over insignificant mistakes. I will feel this dumb shame and doubt in disproportionate amounts long after the fact, which is just silly.

On some levels I guess it makes me actually be a better person and act with some more respect and kindness. Even though I sometimes like to have some peace from myself and my constant feeling I should be better somehow; I don’t think it is always such a bad think to chastise yourself and try to be a better, kinder, more open-minded person.

Except when I’m writing; because all of the sudden the endless analyzing and perfectionism becomes the worst fucking habit to have.

Don’t you think it’s good to be critical and strive for the best, Janneke?

Thanks for interrupting me, you dick. But to answer your question… Sure it is, but it’s just not very helpful to jump right into self-loathing and doubt when you’re just one page in to a story or a script. Things evolve organically after a long process of writing and re-writing, and I sometimes expect things to be perfect right from the start. Which pushes me time and again in the habit to start rewriting when there is barely anything to rewrite. I will start sculpting the fine lines, without ever hewing out the general shape of the thing.

And this is an almost impossible way to work, because without knowing the general shape, how do you know where the fine lines and details actually go? You can’t build a cathedral without first setting up a solid foundation (and everything I do of course has the grandeur and beauty and eternity similar to Cathédrale de Chartres)

So, while you may feel like you are making things better by just jumping in straight away, going back and fixing every single issue, you just end up going in smaller and smaller circles until you run into yourself, screaming and shouting and wondering why you are so incompetent. — Almost as though you are talking to yourself on your own blog? —

Almost like that.

Except here I don’t care. I can do whatever I want. I can talk to myself, I can talk to imaginary readers, I can pretend to be anyone and anything. It doesn’t matter. These blogs help me unwind, that is the only point there is to them. I don’t care too much about them. Here I have nothing to prove, not to myself and not to the world. These posts just exist. I barely rewrite them. I just type, press send and never look back. They are like mindless scribbles and sketches build from words. They are often a mess, either structurally or just poorly worded…and let’s not even start talking about the content… :)

That people enjoy them in spite of that is a giant compliment, and it does give me enormous joy. I’m not being callous when I say that I don’t care about this blog. I mean that I don’t care about it as much as I care about my actual writing projects. But for better or worse, this blog is helping me grow and develop myself. It has helped me find and improve my natural writing voice, taught me how to write jokes and how to come up with better metaphors and mostly it has helped me to not care so much about every single word I write.

Perfection is in the whole, not in every single nuance. You can have some rough edges and poorly structured sentences, as long as it all adds up to something interesting (and if not, at least I have plenty of pictures of upside down dogs and baby pandas to keep you entertained. Because in the end nothing is better than that and cats in cardigans)

So these days, I find it much easier to write on my actual projects, because I just don’t care so much about it being perfect right now. I am more interested in setting up the broad strokes first. In fact, I am much more interested in finishing something for a change, without becoming discouraged or hating myself for being such a failure.

And while I’m now 20,000 words into a story that is barely holding together at the seams; because I’m making things up as I go along, I am desperately trying to accept it the way it is and defy the temptation to rewrite. Every inch of my body and mind is begging me to do it, to just brush up the logical fallacies, I’ll promise to leave the grammatical errors and spelling mistakes aside (some of them are hilarious. I might share them some day), I’m not giving in to the feeling.

Yes, I may have a character recalling something in chapter 1, which is impossible because I kill him off in chapter 3. It doesn’t really matter. Because in the long run, the story isn’t about him. And it’s an easy fix. I know it is there, and once I am done I’ll go back to it and fix it. It’s not part of the narrative, so for now I’m ignoring it and just typing away.

I’m somewhere at a pace between 500 and a 1000 words a day, and so far I’m only speeding up; because I have embraced the messiness, and decided that whatever happens, things will be fine. There will be a rewrite at some point, when I know what the story exactly is. For now, I’ll just let my hands do the typing, write without judgement, and let the words pour out of me.

They might be terrible words, but they aren’t meant to be Shakespeare (because I don’t think I can be both that poetic and boring at the same time). They are rough, ugly and messy, but they are mine.

And if they are anything like me, one day they will pretend to be absolutely perfect.

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Ted & Jann — I’ll be watching a TED Talk a Day

TED3

I decided that it was time to do something cool again. By ‘Something Cool’ I mean something dumb and uninteresting that I will totally blow out of proportion and rave about for weeks before realizing it is pretty boring and no one cares and forgetting all about it.

I was thinking about watching every single movie on the Sight & Sound critics list. Which would be fun, but honestly if I have to see Citizen Kane one fucking more time this decade I will kill someone. And mostly I feared it would interfere with my writing (which is going fucking amazing, thank you for asking), so I shelved that idea for a while. I do want to do it at some point, or at least watch a bunch of more classics, because there are so many amazing movies I haven’t seen. Which is fine- you can’t see everything-, but I don’t really know how I can justify not having seen Ran when I have seen about 2 movies starring Paris Hilton. So some day, I shall commit to making myself feel slightly less culturally illiterate.

For now however I have committed to something slightly less time consuming yet equally awesome….

For the next six months I’ll be watching one TED talk a day. Why? I don’t know. Because I can. Because it’s never a bad thing to learn something new. Because there is this large vat of resources I’m leaving untapped. Because I’m too lazy to read a book. Because I have nothing better to do. Because I there is so much stuff out there I don’t know about. Because I think it’ll be fun. Does it matter? I don’t think it does. I’m doing it, and as the self-promoting narcissist I am, I’ll be chronicling it too.

tedandjann.tumblr.com

So swing by there or just the TED website if you have 20 minutes to spare. I’m going to try to have as broad and random a spectrum of topics and not limit myself to shit I find interesting (since I’m pretty sure there are not that many TED talks about Brad Pitt and unicorns out there). But if you don’t, cool too, because I’m not really doing it for you. I’m just sharing it on the off chance you find it interesting too. And I’m completely open for suggestions. So if you feel there is this awesome talk I’m missing, send me a tweet at @JannekeRood. If you don’t have Twitter, you should probably sort your life out because you’re failing at Internet (yea, Grandma I’m looking at you!).

I’m not dead… I’m Outlining — A conversation with my Imaginary ‘Fans’

In case you are wondering where I am. I am behind my computer… writing and outlining my story. It kinda takes time and effort. (and when I’m not doing that, I’m trying to get myself a bank account)

It’s been two months of that already. What are you…. A terrible writer?

Could be, could very much be. Safe to say I’ve been working really hard. And then some days not so hard. But I think I’m really making headway this time. And if not, in the worst case, I do learn to write really beautifully constructed sentences.

Yea, who cares. When is that screenplay you keep boring us with, done.

I’d say 7 months from now… If I can keep this up. I outlined 8 pages today, 4 of which I am really happy and 2 I can live with. So, I think I might not throw this version out completely. Maybe.

7 months… If you think I’ll keep reading this terrible blog full of Imaginary conversations with yourself and pictures of Indiana Jones and puppies… you are very much mistaken. 

Too bad. Here’s a picture of not Indiana Jones for your trouble.

Anyone else here think that combining Episode 1 with 3D might actually be the best Idea George Lucas ever had. Two negatives cancel eachother out, right?

It’s not just Hollywood that’s trying to torture me…

As we all know… I will see any film starring Colin Firth. That man is a God. I still think he fumbled his acceptance speech at the Oscar by not crying like an old lady at her husbands funeral but staying classy and composed instead… But even that is so easily forgiven by the fact that he is Awesome.

So imagine my displeasure at finding out that there’s a new Bridget Jones movie in the works. Sure, I enjoyed Colin and Hugh’s on-screen battle for the love of Bridget Jones. But that was the first movie. How was I supposed to know it was all downhill from there!?

And sure I bought the 3 disc special edition that comes in a really crappy box. But that was only because I like Special editions and at that point was still obsessed with having a cool DVD collection (You know, when Blu-Ray was still a thing of the future). But let’s face it. The second Bridget Jones is a really crappy movie. It was just an excuse for the cast and crew to go on holiday (sans Colin by the way;  Let’s talk about dropping the ball in terms of production value) to Thailand.

People tell me it’s based on a book. Well, if that’s correct than Helen Fielding should be ashamed of herself… or really angry with the people who adapted her book for the screen. Come on, Fielding. I’ve never read anything you wrote… But if you think it was a good idea to have your leading lady imprisoned in one of the worst prisons in the world which apparently isn’t so bad, and then she goes all Martha Stewart, independent woman on their ass before she gets saved by prince charming and it takes an entire film for them to make up, you’re a hack. A hack.

I’m sorry. But you are. It’s a sad excuse for a Cinderella story.

Besides, talk about needy women. Come on, Bridget Jones. What’s so important about finding a man? Yes, I would also like someone to make me breakfast in bed. Yes, I would also like someone to do my groceries and help me cook blue soup. Yes, I would also like to make out in my underwear in the middle of a snowy street. But you can just get a butler for that. At least, that’s my plan. I’m just going to get filthy rich by posting pictures of cats on this blog all day and then get myself a very hot butler.

You should have thought of it.

But who are we kidding.  We all know that I’m going to see it. It’s got Colin… and Hugh Grant. Those two are like a giant Oreo cookie. The best of both worlds. You have the crunchy chocolate (Colin) and the creamy filling (Hugh) and it’s a cookie (I like cookies)! It doesn’t get much better than that were it not that they’ve been cast in a stinker of a film.

And don’t get all: “How do you know.. you haven’t even seen it. It hasn’t even been shot… the script isn’t even complete” on me. First of all. The magnitude in which the second film sucked does not give me any hope for the future. Secondly, Paul Feig, the director of Bridesmaid (only one of the best comedies of last year) was attached but fired because they felt he was lacking the essential Britishness to do this film.

Now they hired the director of the Full Monty instead. Don’t get me wrong, it was a funny film back in the day. But is wasn’t that great. Yes, I know what it did for British Cinema. It just isn’t that great a film. And now this guy who practically hasn’t directed a film since is going to tackle the new Bridget Jones… Yea, forgive me for not holding my breath.

In short, I urge Working Title to not screw it up… Because I will Sigh through the entire movie.. Twilight style. And then I will come back here to this blog (Which by then is probably abandoned by me, but will be reopened…) just to complain about the film.

Don’t say I haven’t warned you!

When both Colin and I discovered this new film will deal with the Spawn of Bridget Jones.

Yes, I’m still writing — No, it’s not about Kittens

I felt it has been a while since I last said anything useful on this blog. So, I thought I’d mix it up a bit and talk about something that has slightly less to do with furry kittens and more with that thing I went here to do…

What was that again… O yes, writing.
Writing screenplays to more be specific.

I dropped my Post-apocalyptic breakfast club for now. I still think it’s a great idea but I feel very strongly I am not yet capable (and wonder if I ever will be) to write that particular film. Perhaps some day, or perhaps with a great screenwriter who gets what I want to do. (Great screenwiters, feel free to Apply anytime)

But if you think that by dropping that mean little beast I have now less on my plate, you couldn’t be more wrong!! All of the sudden I find myself outlining one potentially commercial project for television, Half went off in such a direction that I have to start researching all again and to top it all off, I started writing fiction again, just to get away from all the structure of screenwriting.

So as you can see; busy like an evil overlord plotting the destruction of the known universe.

And while at times it gets tedious and frustrating… I mean, I’ve stared at multiple computer screens, notebooks and a wall filled with note cards for over two months now, and I’m again starting with what was once Half. from scratch. If you were to look at it from the outside you would probably think I made no progress at all. I just wrote stuff and threw it all out again. Not a second glance, not a regret…

But also, I don’t feel like I wasted my time. (Though perhaps those couple of days when I was trying to catch up on Fringe and then I just watched Fringe for three days straight and couldn’t sleep because it was so awesome I couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen next…) Every one of those attempts and effort went into creating the seed of the idea I’m now working on.

And that’s how it should be. Writing is a journey of discovery. It’s not like you walk into your office, sit down, jot some words on paper and voilà, there’s a story. It takes a lot of work and effort and coffee to get anywhere. It can go in so many directions, and sometimes you just need to eliminate those paths that won’t get you where you want to go. It’s not like you can see from the beginning of the road where you will end up, so you need to walk it to see for yourself. Every single path, and they all branch off in other paths and those branch of in other paths again. Ad Infinitum. Sometimes it shows you a way you didn’t think was going to be interesting… But then you are there, wandering those paths and you find you want to go somewhere completely else. Somewhere you hadn’t planned on going… But now you’re going down that road, it seems a lot better than all those other paths…

That’s basically where I am at now. Half. has been shelved. Probably forever. Instead it’s turning into this wonderful new adventure with wonderful new friends and worlds and images to play with. I’m not going to say much about it. All I will tell you is that it’s called “A Very Grimm Adventure” and it deals with the destructive nature of fairy-tales. I find it very exciting and very difficult. Right now I’m still looking for the right kind of tone, but already I’m having so much fun with it all.

And that’s all I’m going to say for now. When I get further in the project I’ll probably elaborate on it a bit more. For now it’s still too delicate and too unstable to discuss. I don’t yet know what it is exactly. And until I do, I simply cannot speak of it. I did it once, to a friend who was very enthusiastic and came up with some ideas, but it nearly killed my idea because it was still so fragile. The seed hadn’t hatched. It still needs some time to grow and develop; it still needs a lot of fucking work to make it work.

But fortunately I do have one person I can bounce my ideas off and have constructive chats with. I nicknamed him Major Awesome, and not for no reason. It’s very nice to have that person who understands what you want and how fluid an idea really is. We spent two afternoons on Skype trying to come up with ideas for this world and our Characters. He mostly steps in whenever I am stuck and bounces some ideas around with me. He comes with suggestions, points me to things I have overlooked and always urges me to stay on Character. I don’t know if I could write without him, but I do know that I don’t want to write without him.

And I think for everyone who is doing the things we do, you should have that person you can trust completely… Creatively. And don’t give me the crap that you have a boyfriend who you trust completely. That’s not the same (I assume). First of all, those things inevitably end in tears and you’ve lost your writing partner. Second of all… Who in the world trusts their boyfriend? That’s just ridiculous.

No, what you need is a writing buddy. You don’t need him to type, you just need someone to fall back on, to wrench open your brain when it’s got itself stuck. Someone to help you approach things from a different angle… and most importantly, someone who you can rely on to tell you it’s crap. Someone who is always honest with you… So that when he or she says it’s crap… you know it’s crap. This is important, because when they tell you it’s good. It’s really good.

And that is sometimes hard to believe or see when you are buried underneath self-doubt and confused about what it is you’re trying to do. Whatever people say about writing. It isn’t easy. It’s hard and difficult and we need those people to fall back on. Who understand us… who understand the story… and most importantly, who understand that some times we just need to hear that we are not completely wasting our lives trying to do what we’re doing.

So, to my good friend Major Awesome, a very heartfelt Thank you. And a promise that this week you’ll have some new stuff to read.

Moonrise Kingdom

I just realized there are very few movies that will be released this year that I’m truly exited to see. Moonrise Kingdom now officially became one of them…

I’m not so sure the movie will be that great, but you gotta admire Anderson for his visual style and the tone and mood in everything he does. He is one of the few true young Auteurs out there.

Hey Hollywood — You’re officially done now.

Hey Hollywood,

We have had a long standing relationship, and up to now it has been pretty good. Sure, there were some disappointments along the way. I think we both know what happened on the 22nd of May, 2008[1] when you brutally slaughtered Indiana Jones with no regards for my feelings. At all.

I’m sorry, I know I said I wouldn’t bring it up again… but you hurt me.

I know I hurt you too. I hurt you when I continuously failed to show up for the latest Transformers film.  And I may have disappointed you when I refused to watch any film in 3D, ever. But I think that was for both our good.

We’ve struggled on for as long as we could, but I can no longer stand by and watch you destroy yourself. Please listen to me… You can be so inspiring, entertaining, creative, surprising, mindblowingly beautiful. Please, I’ve seen that in you so many times. Why are you giving up on that person? And for what… Some bunch of Jersey Shore watching morons who do not appreciate you the way I do?? Why do you not have more faith in how truly amazing you can be… Can you not see what I see in you every day? Where is the spark gone?

So, my dearest friend…  Consider this an intervention. I am writing you as a lover and friend to tell you that you are done. You’ve tried very hard.. But I think it is time to take a break, take a breath and survey everything you’ve done.

Because you’ve done pretty good. You kept me company when I needed it the most; when I was tired and the world seemed like a dark place you gave me Casablanca, The Godfather, Star Wars, A touch of Evil, Edward Scissorhands, Vertigo, The Dark Knight, E.T., Aladdin, Drive, 12 angry men, Blade Runner and not to mention Indiana Jones and shots of the impeccable abs of various beloved superheroes.

And I thank you for that.

But if this…this thing… is all you have left to offer, I think it’s time for you to quit. If the creativity is so sucked out of you, that all you can do is rehash baby books; I think it’s time to wither and die. When all you have left to give, is Cameron Diaz talking about her boobs and babies…. For the love of God.. Before someone truly gets hurt… End it! Just end it!!

End yourself now!

Please, I beg of you.

No more torture!

 

1 No, I did not look that up.
Yes, I know the date Indiana Jones 4 (or as I like to call it…The movie that does not exist) was released better than I know my own Birthday.
No, this is not strange at all.

Half. — Before I forget that I am actually still a filmmaker

I’ve been writing so much, I sometimes forget all that hardship and brain damage I’m inflicting upon myself are -in the end- to make a project like this again…
Only bigger… and better…

But… my thesis film is finally online again. The incredible Michelle Hofman synched and subtitled it for me. I am curious as to what the people who haven’t seen it think, so leave a comment. Good or bad, I want to know.

(And also if you find anything weird in the subtitles. Please let me know.)

A Conversation with the asshole within — (who doesn’t really appreciate my appeciation for Indiana Jones)

This is not a blog post about Spider-Man. I just used it to illustrate that the asshole within is kinda like venom. This evil, dark thing that takes over the good side of me… Just read Spider-Man if you’re wondering about it, ok. It’s too much to get into right now.

I can safely say that it’s been a while since I last decided to grace you with tales of my adventures. Mostly because there were no adventures to speak of. I was a bit lost in an endless ocean of closing doors and self-doubt.

I am a pretty confident person on the outside, but the voice within tells me on regular intervals that I am a sad loser who will die alone without ever accomplishing anything. This is also the voice that tells me I am either fat or ugly (with good hair though. It can never criticize the hair) or a klutz or self-centered or not good enough in any other way possible. (Sometimes it even tells me I am the evilest person she knows, but I find that strangely reassuring for some reason). I think you’ve all met this inner voice as well. It is what people in the old days would probably be calling God. I just call it that tiny voice in the back of my head that I should never listen to because she is an asshole…

But sometimes it is hard to ignore that criticizing asshole in your head. I’d been looking for a job and my failure rate was monumental. I think I send out my résumé to over 40 different people, and got 0 (zero, nill…  yes, nothing) answers. I had tried to write on my screenplay, but I was stuck in an endless loop of a structural problem that I couldn’t write myself out of. So basically, every day I sat behind my computer and never accomplished anything. It gets frustrating at some point.

So, sizing up -and reveling in- the sheer intensity of my failure to find a job or do some constructive writing, the voice within became very vocal. And for some reason it was really hard to shut her up. I tried to reason with her. I took her aside when we were alone and I sat her down on a chair. I said: “Hey Listen, you’re not being very helpful right now. I could do with some support instead of your nagging voice telling me that I’m a giant weirdo.”

She just shrugged and said: “But you are a giant weirdo. I mean…. look at yourself. You are 25 years old with no skills to speak of… Also, you’re a lousy dancer.”

And while she may have been a bitch about it; she was right. I have no discernible skills… And I really am a terrible dancer.

I am a 25-year-old, who still hopes she can marry Indiana Jones some day and that we will spend our weekends playing Duck Hunt on the NES before running off on daring adventures involving mystical artifacts and killing Nazi’s. I’m not even kidding either. If I could choose any future, that would be it. I don’t even have to think about it. I’d be crazy happy being Mrs. Indiana Jones.

But it turns out, there isn’t really a market for that… except perhaps in the lunatic asylum… and at the moment I am still crossing my fingers that it’ll be some good twenty years before I end up there.

So, my inner asshole had me doubting and she wouldn’t shut up. I wasn’t feeling too well, because the old stomach injury was acting up again (or visa versa… it’s amazing how that thing turns up every time I am in my unhappy place) So, yea, throwing up all over the place, unemployed and cold is where I hit rock bottom.

And there I lay, staring at the world wondering what the hell I was supposed to do or be. For a while I tried to drown the voice out with the company of my dear old friend, Mr. Alcohol. But that wasn’t working either. In fact, it just made the voice come back even stronger and more vicious. So, I was about to give up and accept that I am and always will be a giant loser.

And then, as quickly as it went, my mental resolve (some would refer to this part of me as: That arrogant asshole that always knows and does everything better than anyone else) returned to me. I realized that the doubting voice was the crazy part of me. The self-doubt was not only unhelpful, it was a complete liar. I am very capable of many things. Too many things, one can argue, as I did. I can write quite well (especially in 140 characters or less) and I have a broad understanding of many different subjects (most of them pointless, but awesome nevertheless). I might be a terrible dancer, but I am a great drinker, a good conversationalist and extremely skilled in finding cute pictures of puppies on the Internet.

And with that argument I punched the inner asshole in the face. It was a neat right hook and I enjoyed giving it. I realized that even if I don’t find a job, I have nothing to lose. I can and should enjoy the time that I have here and spent it writing… not doubting myself because I cannot find a job I really don’t care all that much about anyways.

And with that realization the ideas and stories all came running back to me. The asshole within crawled back into her dark hiding place, where it lies now, waiting for a day it can come back out again and torment me.

For now, it just screams at me from the deep end of my brain. If I listen really hard I can just hear the echo of her words: “You may think you’ve won, you self-righteous prick… but we both know I’ll be back… and next time I’ll bring a friend!… or a gun… Or… well, anyways. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I’ll be back. Stupid f*&ing….  “

And then she just swears a lot. For now I just laugh. The bitchy inner voice has lost yet again. The darkness has lifted and I really don’t care all that much about my lack of practical skills. Somewhere on this planet there is something I am awesome at…

And if it’s not writing or making movies, I sure hope it’s being Mrs. Indiana Jones…

Who doesn't love Indy. I mean, just look at him. The man looks just as in his place in an Oxford class room as he does in a treacherous jungle cave. With his cool looks, suave 40's mannerisms and manly quips he just melts my heart. And to top it all off, his dad is freaking James Bond! What's not to like, people? Seriously... what's not to like? The giant chest and arms all wrapped up in a neat leather jacket? The fact that he shoots first, asks questions later? The heart of gold tinged here and there with the slightest hint of opportunism that will lead him to save innocent kids from a cruel Thuggee clan? The fact that his name is Indiana Walton Jones? Come on, the man has got it all.. (I am deliberately ignoring Indiana Jones 4. Anyone who mentions Indiana Jones for will be banned for life. Indiana Jones 4 did not happen... Understood?!)

I wish I knew any Thor Jokes — This Blog Title Sure as Hell would be better then.

People. I know I said I’d entertain you on occasion, but honestly… do you have to start calling me in the middle of the night begging me to tell you what’s wrong with Thor.

The answer is, of course: Yes!

Why hasn’t anyone called me? I put my number right there on the page a dozen posts ago with strict orders to never call me. Are you all conspiring behind my back to make me believe that reversed psychology doesn’t work?? Because if you are, I’ll totally believe in it even more. Reverse psychologize yourself out of that one.

Ok, never mind that. Let’s return to what’s really important. Thor and its completely illogical plot. For those of you who haven’t seen the movie, here’s a plot summary. But it’s probably easier to keep in mind that if you are a guy and rank a 3 or lower on the Kinsey scale, you’re not missing out on anything. In fact, watching the film will most likely lead to some serious self-loathing. And if you are a girl, you’re not missing out on much either… O wait. I forgot to mention that Thor has a body you just want to lick vanilla ice cream off. True Story, and I don’t even like vanilla. So perhaps you should watch it… preferably with your boyfriend if you’re trying to get him to go to the gym.

Alright, let’s get to the point. What hideous crimes did Kenneth Branagh commit by making this picture? What was so incredibly bad that it deserves an entire blog post list those wrongs?  And why in the world did the world, if the movie was so bad, did I watch it twice?

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