April 26, 2011
I have just returned from the dubbing studio where I spoke into a microphone as Severus Snape for absolutely the last time. On the screen were some flashback shots of Daniel, Emma and Rupert from ten years ago. They were 12. I have also recently returned from New York, and while I was there, I saw Daniel singing and dancing (brilliantly) on Broadway. A lifetime seems to have passed in minutes.
Three children have become adults since a phone call with Jo Rowling, containing one small clue, persuaded me that there was more to Snape than an unchanging costume, and that even though only three of the books were out at that time, she held the entire, massive but delicate narrative in the surest of hands.
It is an ancient need to be told stories. But the story needs a great storyteller. Thanks for all of it, Jo.” —Alan Rickman (via soundtracktofallinginlove)
Ralph Waldo Emerson (via thatkindofwoman)
I’ve posted this before, but it’s just too accurate.
Teenage girls, please don’t worry about being super popular in high school, or being the best actress in high school, or the best athlete. Not only do people not care about any of that the second you graduate, but when you get older, if you reference your successes in high school too much, it actually makes you look kind of pitiful, like some babbling old Tennessee Williams character with nothing going on in their current life. What I’ve noticed is that no one who was a big star in high school is also a big star later in life, except athletes. For us overlooked kids, it’s so wonderfully fair.
I was never the lead in the play. I don’t think I went to a single party with alcohol at it. No on shared pot with me. It wasn’t until I was sixteen that I even knew marijuana and pot were the same thing. My parents didn’t let me do social things on weeknights because weeknights were for homework, and maybe an an episode of The X-Files if I was being a good kid (X-Files was on Friday night), and on extremely rare occasions I could watch Seinfeld (Thursday, a school night), if I just aced my PSATs or something. I had a great time in high school, but it wasn’t the high school experience you seen on teen dramas, where people are in serious romantic relationships, and hanging out in parking lots or whatever (isn’t that loitering?). I had fun in my academic clubs, watching movies with my girlfriends, learning Latin, having long, protracted, unrequited crushes on older guys who didn’t know me, and yes, hanging out with my family. I liked hanging out with my family! Later, when you’re grown up, you realize you never get to hang out with your family. You pretty much only have eighteen years to spend with them full-time and that’s it. So yeah, it all added up to a happy, memorable time. Even though I was never a star.
Because I was largely ignored at school, I watched everyone like an observant weirdo, not unlike Eugene Levy’s character Dr. Allan Pearl, from Waiting for Guffman, who famously “sat next to the class clown, and studied him.” But I did that with everyone. It has helped me so much as a writer you have no idea.
I just want ambitious teenagers to know it is totally fine to be quiet, observant kids. Besides being a light to your parents, you will find you have plenty of time later to catch up. So many people I worth with—famous actors, accomplish writers—were overlooked in high school. Be like Allan Pearl. Sit next to the class clown and study him. Then grow up, take everything you learn, and get paid to be a real-life class clown, unlike whatever unexciting thing the actual high school class clown is going now. I think our class clown is doing marketing in Warwick, Connecticut.” —
Something that you miss.
The reason why I miss Oxford and NYC so much is because I miss the independence. Some people say that it’s best to share these travel experiences with others—-and it can be—-but I find it more romantic to experience these moments alone. Because it’s only in those times alone where my mind finally silences itself and I can relish in the quiet and be able to listen to the sounds of life continuing around me, reminding me to never take myself too seriously because no one else really cares (in the best possible way, that is). I find that really comforting and I miss it.
Average and disappointing for an Asian-American.
How you hope your future will be like.
Simple. Elegant. Content.
I hope to not have impractical, terribly high expectations (which may be inadvertently lofty). I hope to remember to work hard and be kind. And I hope to find a completed solitude.
it’s not even funny.
Except on occasion in a dark and very dry way.
Netflix only had 2 seasons on instant play. Does anyone know where I can stream seasons 3-4, possibly 5 online?
nicolekang replied to your post: There’s nothing more exciting than seeing that you have a new follower.
hahha, oh Grace. I miss you too much.
Oh I miss you more.
- Missed opportunities
- Things falling apart
Five items you lust after.
- Proenza Schouler PS1 Medium in Saddle
- Celine Luggage Shopper
- Christian Louboutin New Helmut in black patent leather
- Rolex Submariner
- Finn Diamond Love Knot Ring
haha, it’s not. it was something with nonsensical characters and numbers. that should have tipped me off.
And nothing more disappointing than realizing that it’s probably a spammer-bot.
I accidentally clicked a link on a page and I’m now paranoid that I’ve unleashed something onto my mac. Now this is a rapture that I’m afraid of.
by: Hyperbole and a Half
You NEED to read this now. Are you bored? Probably. Are you in a public place? Good. Start reading. You will literally ‘laugh out loud’ and people will wonder what is so entertaining on your screen.
Dramatic reenactments make it all legitimate.
A problem that you have had.
Anxiety. I lament the days of my youth when I was without responsibilities and obligations, when I had an endless reserve of patience. This past road trip has made me realize that I have no patience. Perhaps it is the result of an extremely independent upbringing as an only child or perhaps I’m just a terrible heathen, doomed to perish on judgment day. Either way, entertaining relatives from the motherland seems especially taxing because they are overly prideful and what they deem as politeness (e.g. deferring decisions when the hosts ask what they would like to do), to me, is a huge imposition because the lollygagging is a huge waste of time and the habit is highly inefficient.
Anxiety is an unfortunate side effect of being a control freak. As a semi-rational, sentient being, I know that it is impossible for things to be perfect. However, I will try my damnedest to get as close as I can, even if it will kill me (i.e. stroke) because there is at least some solace in knowing that I at least tried.
Email now works.
Sanity now restored.
Serenity now found.
Patience now replenished.
That week-long road trip really was a bitch.
The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door.
Something that you’re proud of.
My failures. They are humbling lessons and they help me gain insight into my priorities. They are odd friends; I hope to never see them, but when I do, I find their presence comforting. My failures are my successes.
Something you always think “what if…” about.
I try very hard to never miss an opportunity, but I will say that I sometimes imagine what it would be like to stay at Oxford Uni for an extra term or two. Also, I wonder how my Wes Anderson meeting would have been like had it not been for my brain shutting down. They’re really trivial things, and I only think about them when I have trouble sleeping or when I’m day-dreaming.