shoutout to me for still not having my driver’s license
in universe howling commandos hbo war documentary a la band of brothers please and thank you
(bucky and steve watch together in horror/fascination)
#”the guy that plays you’s a real looker steve” #”that’s not how it was. we had JACK SHIT in supplies for three days over that mountain pass” #they don’t talk during the episode that bucky falls until the credits roll #”dramatics” bucky says rolling his eyes. ”bet you didn’t cry half as much as that asswipe on tv” (via philcoulson)
i want to talk about the emotion in cap 2 because it’s really the first superhero movie that hit me deeply, and i feel like it’s because it didn’t pull back at all. it was honest with me, in a way that a lot of movies — marvel or otherwise — just aren’t. there was no pulling away or shying from the emotion; it hit you hard, right in the gut.
This movie did such a great job of subverting so many tropes that ranged from tired, overdone cliches to the downright dangerous. And it didn’t feel forced or fake at all. It was just from the ground-up “Ok what if real human beings were in this situation” and the result was something way more complex and grounded, no matter how ludicrous or over-the-top the plot got, than we’ve been trained to expect.
J. K. Rowling’s confession that she’d come to believe Ron/Hermione was a mistake from the beginning set in motion an unprecedented deluge of author regrets. As a professor, I of course enjoy a privileged position as conduit to the intentions of author-oracles, but in this case they spoke to many others as well.
Louisa May Alcott regrets marrying Jo March off to that dull old man. “I had a temper tantrum. I disappointed everyone. Sorry, Laurie.”— Anne Jamison (@prof_anne)February 1, 2014
"I realize I made generations believe instant antipathy is a valid basis for ideal marriage," sighed Ms Austen, "I just thought he was hot."— Anne Jamison (@prof_anne)February 1, 2014
Emily Bronte sees now she never should have put Catherine and Linton together. “It never really made sense. It destroyed all my characters”— Anne Jamison (@prof_anne)February 1, 2014
Arthur Conan Doyle from the spirit world: “They were Victorians, for God’s sake. They would have been jailed. I expected readers to deduce.”— Anne Jamison (@prof_anne)February 1, 2014
"I’ll just say it," sighs the Almighty. "I was more into Adam/Lilith than Adam/Eve but my publisher wanted more drama."— Dan (@queerly_it_is)February 2, 2014
John Milton reveals Gabriel/Lucifer was his wish-fulfillment otp but something just got in the way.— Dan (@queerly_it_is)February 2, 2014
.@prof_anne George Eliot admits she was wrong not to put Dorothea & Ladislaw together at the start. “All those wasted pages!” she cries.— Ron Hogan (@RonHogan)February 1, 2014
THIS JUST IN: GEORGE LUCAS WISHES HE WOULD’VE HOOKED UP LUKE AND LEIA.— Rainbow Rowell (@rainbowrowell)February 2, 2014
But not everyone expressed such second thoughts:
Joss Whedon clarifies he meant to ruin every one of your ships, lay waste to your dreams, and will never regret a single one of your tears— Anne Jamison (@prof_anne)February 2, 2014
This morning’s scholarly journal perusing threw up a gem.
Man, I have never seen someone stand in a glass house and throw rocks THAT HARD.
Depression is hard to understand, because it is not a consistent state. Depression is rather like a virus, but like a virus, it has its manageable days and its acute, life-threatening flare-ups. You can be in a depression and still laugh at a friend’s joke or have a good night at dinner or manage low-level functioning. You grocery shop and stop to pet a puppy on the corner, talk to friends in a café, maybe write something you don’t hate. When this happens, you might examine your day for clues like reading tea leaves in a cup: Was it the egg for breakfast that made the difference? The three-mile run? You think, well, maybe this thing has moved on now. And you make no sudden moves for fear of attracting its abusive attention again.
But other times…
Other times, it’s as if a hole is opening inside you, wider and wider, pressing against your lungs, pushing your internal organs into unnatural places, and you cannot draw a true breath. You are breaking inside, slowly, and everything that keeps you tethered to your life, all of your normal responses, is being sucked through the hole like an airlock emptying into space. These are the times Holly Golightly called the Mean Reds.
I call it White Knuckling it."
"But the stigma of depression is that it comes with the sense that you shouldn’t have it to begin with. That it is self-indulgence or emotional incompetence rather than actual illness."
“When it’s White Knuckle Time, you will have to remind yourself to stand in the middle of the subway platform, well away from the edge.”
“There is an undertow to depression. It doesn’t take you all at once. It leaves you with some false sense that you are coping. That you are in control. That you have the shore still well in sight, until, at some point, you raise your head to find yourself all alone, battered by rough seas with absolutely no idea which way you should swim.”
Jesus, every damn word of this post. It’s remarkable.
I can identify with this far too well.