I just re-watched this past Sunday’s GoT episode and guyz: it is the fucking shit. It’s basically the best depiction of anything ever. I have so few eloquent words because I’m so overwhelmed by awesomeness.
And then the credits rolled and the fucking National did a cover of The Rains of Castemere. Is this a fucking dream. Geek aneurysm, #dead
I’m starting to feel like the greatest folly of youth (greatest, because young people do a ton of stupid shit), is a misunderstanding of love and commitment.
Don’t you hear people say all the time “That’s my best friend” or “That’s my girl/boyfriend.” The emphasis, ever so slightly but just so, is on my. There’s this bitter core of selfishness, of possession, in that love and commitment. It shifts it from being about the bond between two people to being about ownership. Saying that someone is your proper noun denotes they can’t be anyone else’s.
There’s a prickly little vein of selfishness running through my generation, it’s more prominent in some, but consistent across the board. I’m at fault too, I check myself every so often and get a little bit disgusted with the amount of time I think and talk about myself (as I write on my blog that I watch like a vulture for likes and reblogs and judge my validation as a human being on).
Now this is not about the amount of time we spend doing charitable work, our selfishness isn’t traditional in that sense. In fact some of the most selfish people I’ve met are very charitable because it’s something you can do to make yourself look better and get people to like you.
Love, whether it be familial or fraternal or romantic, is not about you. It’s not about ownership, in fact it’s the opposite. It’s about a mutual disarmament, it’s about releasing our egos and accepting the appreciation that we in turn give out.
Think of a parent and child. How the parent would do absolutely anything for that child. They would go poor, they would work every single hour of every day, they would give their life for their child. That’s love, that’s commitment. That’s what we should aspire to.
Marriage and adventuresome sex acts and Facebook relationship statuses are ultimately superficial facsimiles to love and commitment. They don’t mean anything in and of themselves. An empty gun is just as scary as a loaded gun, but only one of them is deadly.
Really there is so much to say about the Idol finale tonight. I mean these things are like a hardcore acid trip in a Chuck-E-Cheese. Like, okay, there’s John Fogarty, followed by Chaka Khan dressed like a spangled andouille sausage, and Neal Diamond followed by dread-Rihanna, followed by the most uncomfortable proposal ever (brought to you by David Webb Jewelry and the icy clutch of capitalism), cut to Steven Tyler’s ‘dressing room,’ cut to sloth, cut to the elderly sucking face, cut to skunk.
Let’s hit the highs though:
2. My 2012 AI will always be Skylar Laine. Tonight she was gussied like a hostest at a Pirate themed restaraunt and sang with Reba. Seriously it was the perfect match and I hope Reba pulls a ‘02 Kelly Clarkson and takes that bright little firefly under her wing.
3. Are we going to go on pretending that Jennifer Holiday is sane and normal when she sings? I mean I’d like to believe some Idol junior producer didn’t fish her out of a asylum or some kind of refuse center, have her slap on a wig and a pea soup MotB dress, and make her stand perilously close to a sixteen year old who is clearly suffering from avian bone syndrome. I’d like to believe that, but I can’t. JeHo resembled a mix between a 51/50 and the cowardly Lion during ‘If I Were King of the Forest.’
1. Fantasia Mother Fucking Barrino, ‘Tasia, once illiterate, fellow North Carolinian. ’Tasia came out to Bo-bo dance with her magic shadow baby Joshua Ledet. She was rocking a Pocahontas-esque hair system and was trussed-up in a skin-tight, sequined, catsuit WITH THIGH EXPOSING MESH INSERTS. I’m done, I’m just done, that’s it, take me away.
A couple of weeks a go I stopped drinking coffee because I got this sinking suspicion it wasn’t doing me any favors. Since then I’ve been mostly drinking green tea mostly because I’m looking for more reasons to hate myself and be one of ‘those.’
Anyway, sometimes the mocha mistress’ sex-lure is irresistible. But, now when I drink coffee it throws all of my body systems fully into overdrive. Does anyone have a bear they need fought with bare hands or a Rubik cube they need solved? I will have to take a bathroom break every 15 to 20 though…
I love every single thing about this two minutes and thirty seconds. By westside I can only assume he means western North Carolina. Watevs, summerjamzzzz
