Name:Emily Location: Murray, Kentucky, United States Gender:Female
Interests:food, games, weaponry, nature, books, design, music, science, spontaneity.. the list goes on. Expertise:none that i know of, yet. Occupation:all-around procrastinator
despite the multiple times i have wanted to blog again here, it may not happen. i think it's come to that point where i realize that, well, you are quite ugly and your UI is cluttered and a hassle to navigate, despite me knowing exactly where everything is. i feel like looking for a fresh start in terms of blogging, which is fitting considering that the posts i have been wanting to write are of a different mindset than the majority of the posts that remain here. i think i'll start a wordpress and keep it simple. clean. new.
i've begun to develop the habit of making my bed (yeah, late start, i know) because there's something about looking at an organized room that is somewhat therapeutic.
likewise, i'm going to leave the sheets on you for an indefinite break, trusty blog.
A statement posted to the festival’s official site read, in part: “The Festival’s Board of Directors…profoundly regrets that this forum has been used by Lars Von Trier to express comments that are unacceptable, intolerable, and contrary to the ideals of humanity and generosity that preside over the very existence of the Festival.”
Von Trier’s entry, Melancholia, has not been ejected along with its maker, and will be judged as planned. However, should the auteur’s film win, he will not be allowed to accept his prize in person. A festival spokeswoman told The New York Times that if such an expulsion had previously occurred, she was unaware of it.
Above: Watch Melancholia star Kirsten Dunst become increasingly uncomfortable as Lars von Trier makes his infamous comments.
so i don’t get it. they kicked him out because he sympathized with “the bad guy”? i thought art was supposed to be about exploring other viewpoints. the ones less taken. the misunderstood, etc. the ones that general society doesn’t allow “normal” people to explore, but artists can, because that’s what they do. this annoys me, Cannes Film Festival. he couldn’t articulate exactly what he wanted to say, because those types of feelings are difficult to put into words, so i suppose he shouldn’t have started saying anything in the first place, but he dug himself into a bit of an uncomfortable hole and just couldn’t get out. nervous humor. maybe it was in bad taste, but there are artists far more tactless than him, and somehow those guys still make it big.
i don’t think he should’ve gotten kicked for it.. meh.
"This one time I painted a living room with a girl.
This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.
But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.
Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.
That’s what love is. Attention to detail.
And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate each other at the end. And you might walk away from each other one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.
But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date. She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady. She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time. She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.
But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:
One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.
And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end."
"The most amazing thing to my seventeen-year-old soul are the endless connections you make as you encounter different people. These connections come from the way a person smells, to the way they present themselves -- the way they laugh, to the look in their eyes. When you're sitting in school with your classmates, it's easy to overlook the value of these connections. These connections are valuable because they are so individualized -- the mystery lies in seeing similarities between people but also discovering what makes that individual a person only they can be. And so we revel in these connections, and we sit back and enjoy until one day the fine wires between you and an individual become packed wires, memories in the wiring of your brain. It is there, in hindsight, that we realize the purity of human interaction -- a place in time where memory is held not for one's own reminiscing's sake, but to serve as homage to the greater beauty of not self-preservation but shared interaction. The sharing is pure and beautiful but above all things it is essential. It is essential because it is this overwhelming mesh of different personality and qualities that enables us to live beyond merely passing day by day in routine. It is easy to overlook what this net contains, because much of it is a past suffering you wish to forget, but also maybe your homes and also maybe that you spilled mustard on your pants today at lunch. It is past boyfriends or girlfriends, it is scars received, it is things seen on Youtube. It is sushi bars, it is beauty in the dirt of the city, it is an army green jacket with cool pockets. It is secret treehouse level, rooms in your attic, it is cups of thai iced tea, it is sticker pictures and arcade games. It is tired subway rides home, it is sweet memories of the first kiss, it is melancholy memories of the last kiss. It is hotdog vendors on the curb, it is three-second sprints across the crosswalk, it is playful jokes on each other. It is windmills on escalators, it is goodbye hugs, it is awkward stares. It is all of that and more than we could ever imagine ourselves could be. We are beyond comprehension on our own but must look at our reflections in others to even have a glimpse of the magnitude of who we are. Maybe we walk away amazed because we discovered something new about ourselves. Maybe we hope to have left that reflection with another, and in that hope become excited at our own immortality. Maybe we're simply amazed. Maybe we're simply dazed."
