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I realize that the chances of Billy Joel reading this are practically nonexistent and the chances of him reading this and then saying “I’d like to meet this guy” are a million times less than almost none but here’s something you don’t know about me: I’m ridiculously optimistic.

I believe that good things happen to people who work hard and do nice things. This might make me a sucker but I don’t care. I used to be jaded and cynical and I was miserable all the time. Today I approach every day like it could be the best day of my life and I act accordingly because the best day of your life is never going to be the one where you were angry and mean.

ayearofbillyjoel

What’s even more amazing is that Will has managed to retain this optimism while being a Mets fan.

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grantimatter:

Rules of engagement. I think I may need to make these a wallpaper or transcribe them onto a Post-It or something.

Remind me about it tomorrow, OK?

[via girldefective: iateabee]

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Pitt best performances—in The Tree of Life and Fight Club—are in roles where his character is enacting someone else’s subjectivity. In those cases, his mysteries are the film’s mysteries, his lacunae the gaps in the protagonist’s own understanding of the world. Our ideas of what good acting is and what acting is for—the revealing of a character’s inner mysteries to the audience without over-indication—arose at the same time as the flourishing of psychotherapy, a practice that promised similar revelation to the client. I write this not to denigrate either—conventionally good acting and therapy are  both marvelous things—but simply to note that there is an understanding of the world (if not a kind of ideology) embedded within our preference for transparent acting.

Given that, I’m grateful there are a few performers out there demonstrating a different truth. That we, at times, are unknowable to each other and to ourselves. That humans are a complex mystery. That sometimes solving that mystery is impossible. That behind a wall can be another wall. 

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In August of 1865, a Colonel P.H. Anderson of Big Spring, Tennessee, wrote to his former slave, Jourdan Anderson, and requested that he come back to work on his farm. Jourdan — who, since being emancipated, had moved to Ohio, found paid work, and was now supporting his family — responded spectacularly by way of the letter seen below (a letter which, according to newspapers at the time, he dictated).

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The epigram above from Fred gives the game away: “I like to remember things my own way. How I remembered them, not necessarily the way they happened.” To Lynch, that statement is both a frank assessment of the self-deceptive nature of memory (see also: Memento) and an extreme example of a killer creating an alibi by lying to himself about who he really is and what he’s done…. Like no one else, Lynch goes digging for truths that people don’t know or won’t acknowledge about themselves—within dreams, within the subconscious, within those impossibly dark hallways where we fear to tread. 

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as any psychiatrist involved in the making of the D.S.M. will freely tell you, the disorders listed in the book are not “real diseases,” at least not like measles or hepatitis. Instead, they are useful constructs that capture the ways that people commonly suffer. The manual, they go on, was primarily written to give physicians, schooled in the language of disease, a way to recognize similarities and differences among their patients and to talk to one another about them.

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alexleefitz:

shortformblog:

It took them a couple of months, but The Muppets have formally responded to Fox Business’ claims that they were brainwashing kids into hating big oil companies. (Which, mind you, they later apologized for.) Kermit’s take? “And besides, if we have a problem with oil companies, why would we have spent the entire film driving around in a gas-guzzling Rolls Royce?” 

 ”Its almost as laughable as accusing Fox News as being…news.”

A++ there, Miss Piggy.