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Duration=112 M; 2019; Lone Scherfig; genres=Drama; writer=Lone Scherfig; stars=Andrea Riseborough. The kindness of strangers trailer. The kindness of strangers tv.

 

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I'm Frank. Literally. Except my dad left us for the second one after mom found out. LOL

Berlin: Zoe Kazan and Andrea Riseborough are wonderful in an otherwise stilted and inconsistent story about the value of niceness in New York City. New York can be an unforgiving city, even in the best of circumstances. Unfortunately for the awkward patchwork of characters who populate Lone Scherfigs listless new melodrama, “ The Kindness of Strangers ” does not take place in the best of circumstances. Everyone in the film is lost and lonely in one way or another; everyone is either helpless or guilty; everyone is either about to hit bottom, or beginning to claw their way out of a hole thats too deep to escape without some assistance. The young mother whose story provides the spine of this underdeveloped mosaic, is somehow all of those things at once. Played by a tender and compellingly frayed Zoe Kazan, Clara opens the story in the pre-dawn hours by stealing her two young sons (Jack Fulton and Finlay Wojtak-Hissong) away from their Buffalo home, and from the abusive cop husband (Esben Smed as the demonic Richard) whos recently turned his rage towards his kids. Paranoid that Richard might be able to track them down, Clara drives towards Manhattan without a credit card or a cell phone or anything else that might be useful for someone whos trying to start a new life. Of course, its not as if Richard allowed Clara to develop much of an old life. Theres a reason why she doesnt have any friends or family to turn to in her time of need — a reason why the only person she knows in all of New York is her layabout father-in-law, and hes not going to be much help. Clara is soon forced to sleep in her car and steal her food, the latter habit leading to the strangest development of a movie that often feels like its entirely comprised by inexplicable choices and chance encounters: Using whatever currency her whiteness provides, Clara nips a tray of hors doeuvres from a high-end cocktail party. As a result, her youngest son develops a taste for caviar, which inspires her to pinch their next meal from an opulent Russian joint she finds near Wall Street. Decorated like the Hermitage and defined by the cock-eyed humor of a Kaurismäki film, the Winter Palace isnt just a restaurant, its also a respite from the indifference of the outside world. The owner (Bill Nighy) is a sweet man whos quick to trust the fate of his business to anyone who comes in off the street, and his most recent hire — a handsome, newly released ex-con named Marc (Tahar Rahim) — seems eager to reflect his boss good intentions. Together, they make the joint feel like a warm hug in a cold city, and a hub of kindness in a movie where everyone could use some. And yet, the script (the first Scherfig has written solo) is entirely disinterested in the Winter Palace as a place, or in any of the various institutions that prop up a scattered plot that gets lost whenever it starts to wander between its locations. While the stilted opening act is mostly carried along by the velocity of Kazans desperate sense of parental duty (its wrenching to watch her balance her own needs with those of her children, and to wrestle with the ways in which they dont quite overlap) its also sustained by the expectation that all of the characters in Scherfigs messy ensemble are being pulled towards the enchanted restaurant where theyll be able to redeem each other. And maybe they are, but the film never finds its center of gravity, or sees how the Winter Palace might help galvanize this story into more than the sum of its misshapen parts. While the movie works to depict how kindness breeds kindness, even in the cruelest of environments, it spends much of the time watching its motley collection of lost souls chase their own tails. Perhaps thats because Scherfig is stepping outside of her comfort zone, and struggling to reconcile the stately European romanticism of her previous work (e. g. “An Education, ” “Their Finest”) with the hardscrabble vibe of a mercenary American milieu. Shooting with a handheld camera that harkens back to her Dogme 95, Scherfig often seems uncomfortable with her own dour locations and depressing story beats; not every New York movie needs to be shaped by the violent edges of a Safdie brothers film, but “The Kindness of Strangers” cant square the direness of its characters with the underlying humanism that draws them together. Scherfigs solution is a fable-esque logic that makes everything feel somewhat false. Case in point: Safdie favorite Caleb Landry Jones is (kind of) cast against type as Jeff, a twitchy magical idiot type who gets fired from two different jobs because hes “bad at just about everything. ” Its hard to tell if hes supposed to be intellectually handicapped in some way, just as its hard to tell if Scherfig is playing his hopelessness for laughs; sandwiched between difficult sketches of Claras encroaching homelessness, we see Jeff lose an apartment because he drops his phone in the toaster, and lose a temp gig because he mistakes a fluffy dog named Beyoncé for a bed sheet and buries it under a massive pile of cloth. Arriving at a soup kitchen in need of a meal, Jeff stands on the wrong side of the counter, and gets handed an apron instead. But Scherfig is also determined to not let things get too detached from reality, and so she occasionally shortchanges the film in other areas. Kazan and Rahim are both immensely charismatic actors, but “The Kindness of Strangers” cuts off their most romantic scenes, as though stifling their chemistry might help restore the movies balance between misery and magic. In a narrative that hinges on acts of pure generosity, its also strange that Marc wants something in return for the charity he shows to Clara and her kids. Its not quid pro quo creepiness, but his motivations are too cloudy for a movie that overcomplicates its most basic emotions. Read More:  Casey Afflecks Narrative Directorial Debut ‘Light of My Life Is Headed to Berlin Even the most capable characters are vaguely unreal. That includes Alice — a heaven-sent ER nurse played by the shapeshifting Andrea Riseborough, predictably brilliant and elusive in a role that a lesser actress might have smothered with moral virtue — whos so pure of heart that she uses her free time to run a meeting group for people in need of forgiveness (the role of guilt is over pronounced and under-explained. While “The Kindness of Strangers” is Claras story, its Alice whose generosity holds it together, and Alice whos self-interest threatens to pull it apart. Even the helpers need a hand of their own. “Im nobodys numero uno, ” Alice laments, but she never abandons her angelic nature, and her persistent goodness pulls everyone to one side or the other; it would be awful enough that Claras husband is an abusive cop, but Scherfig feels compelled to turn him into a psychopathic killer, and the whole movie tips over into the absurd. Theres a palpable urgency to the films kindness, and a real despair to the films inability to make us believe in it. Grade: C- “The Kindness of Strangers” premiered at the 2019 Berlin International Film Festival. It is currently seeking U. S. distribution. Sign Up: Stay on top of the latest breaking film and TV news! Sign up for our Email Newsletters here.

The kindness of strangers - kleine wunder unter fremden.
The kindness of strangers: penniless across america.
2 / 5 stars 2 out of 5 stars. A strange choice for Berlins opening night sees Bill Nighys funny Russian the only bright spot while an ensemble cast blunder through Lone Scherfigs baffling drama Not one for the showreel … Zoe Kazan and Tahar Rahim in The Kindness of Strangers. Photograph: Per Arnesen/Berlinale/EPA T he Berlin film festival gets off to the ropiest start with this inert, implausible, often bafflingly acted ensemble movie from Lone Scherfig about lonely souls who miraculously find each other in New York. Its what might be heart-sinkingly called a modern-day fairytale – but the kind of modern-day fairytale that gets both halves of the equation wrong, giving you something twee and improbable, weighted down by a dreary yet unconvincing realism. There are some decent moments: Bill Nighy is often amusingly eccentric as Timofey, the Russian-American proprietor of a failing Manhattan restaurant, and he does have one very funny line as he serves some dishes to two diners and then, having turned to leave, wrongly assumes one of their intimately intense questions is addressed to him. And Zoe Kazan certainly pulls out all the emotional stops playing Clara, on the run with her two boys from a terrifyingly abusive cop husband. But the performance of Tahar Rahim, as Timofeys restaurant manager, really is not one for the showreel. Its one that he may now wish to have scrubbed from his IMDb credits. This is not his first English-language performance. But his line readings are mysterious. The American-accented English is challenging. He gives every appearance of not understanding a single word that comes out of his mouth. But then the direction is uneven generally, and the film itself sometimes appears to have been Google-translated from Danish via Welsh. Scherfig herself has directed some great English-language pictures, such as An Education and Their Finest, but the screenplay she has written here is uncertain. ‘Weve had this conversation! … Bill Nighy as Timofey. Photograph: Per Arnesen/Berlinale/EPA Rahims character is called Marc, an ex-con now going straight and his best friend is John Peter (played by Jay Baruchel) the lawyer who took his case. John Peter accompanies Marc to the forgiveness group therapy session at a local church, being run by ER nurse Alice (Andrea Riseborough) who does this in her spare time out of the goodness of her heart, though she is secretly hardly less unhappy than the regular attendees. Poor Clara is to come into contact with all these people as she flees her family home in Buffalo, New York and takes the kids to Manhattan, where she hopes her violent husband cant find them. They sleep in her car at night and during the day, while the kids are dozing in the public library, she forages by shoplifting and stealing leftover food on trays in hotel corridors. The film shows a civil court proceeding for child custody and then a criminal trial for assault lasting a painless month or so, passing in a very brisk montage. Meanwhile, the strangest and most jarringly unsuccessful character is Jeff (Caleb Landry Jones) an incorrigible guy who reacts to being fired from a mattress shop by throwing a swivel chair through a first-floor window. Is he supposed to have a creepy violent temper, like Claras husband? Evidently not. But if hes supposed to be a sympathetic free spirit, then I guess its pedantic and beside the point to care about who that chair might have landed on. The Kindness of Strangers is one of those terrible ideas for a film: ensemble dramas that are superficially attractive because of all the big names shoehorned into the cast-list. Its a bit like Fernando Meirelless awful film 360, which brings together a similar bunch of uninteresting characters made even more uninteresting by the tiresomely unreal way they are corralled together. And the film is furthermore naive about showing homelessness as a problem to be cured with romance. Still, Nighy has some fun with his wacky cod-Russian accent, arguing with his partners: “Please, Sergei! Weve had this conversation! ”.

I'm surprised it wasn't raped 😂.

The kindness of strangers (2019. When I was nine years old, my father said to me, “Never forget what you are. ” I remember the moment so clearly, because it was the first time Id ever seen my father so somber. Normally, he was a man of infinite humor, always attempting to lessen the severity of serious situations through jokes or sarcasm, for our sakes—my mother and I—and for his own. Something happened during his childhood, something so terrible and distressing as to be unspeakable; he died having never discussed it with us or anyone else. Because of this unmentionable thing, joy was something supremely important to him, and I loved him so much for it. When he offered—commanded—that advice of remembrance, with a solemnity so uncharacteristic of him, the scene of the moment was just as much cemented into my mind as the words themselves. I was in my room, sitting on the floor before my CRT television, playing the remake of the first Resident Evil—colloquially dubbed REmake—and engaged in a battle against the undead. My father walked in, quickly acknowledged and dismissed the images onscreen—he had a thing about death, moreso than the average person, presumably born of his past trauma—and sat in front of me. By instinct, and out of respect, I paused the game, and without preamble or comedic intonation he said those words to me. He then hugged me and left, and after puzzling over the incident in my head—in the small capacity a nine-year-old can—I continued playing the game.  I thought, a bit later, he had meant it geographically; we lived in a fairly small town, of an appropriately small population. My father loved the place, as did my mother, although they knew, even at my age, that I would leave it someday—permanently, most likely. And I have. When I grew up and moved out “into the world”, my assumption changed, and I thought him to have meant it racially; our town was primarily white, and so I assumed my father intended for me to keep the same circumstances about wherever I settled. I would even admit to feeling a certain “comfort” around people who bear a skin-tone similar to my own, born entirely of that childhood familiarity. Beyond that, race was not something I had ever dwelled on, and was not certain that it would have been very important to my father either. We were born what we are, where we were.  But again, as the years went by, I realized that attributing his words to race was incorrect as well. The third—and final—revelation, the truth behind that ominous reminder, was made apparent not long after I met her. The horror that came after her introduction into my life is abominable; only worth recollecting, because to talk about her without mentioning it would be a disrespect to her memory. Its necessary to emphasize the impact she had on my life in such a short time.  I was twenty-three when I met her, a bit over a year ago now. I had a job—though I dont say this dismissively or regretfully—as a teaching assistant and afterschool tutor. It was a position for which I was paid; although it did start out as a sort of unpaid internship (prolonged volunteering, to expand) but my performance was appreciated enough to become proper employment.  My particular area of study was for a literature course, specifically targeting 19th century writers and the genre foundations theyve laid for subsequent creators in the craft. I had a personal preference for traditional science fiction, horror, and fantasy, but also for the altered and reconstructed variations of those genres, under the umbrella of Weird Fiction. According to the teacher, a Miss Stacey, my enthusiasm and deep interest in genre fiction helped intrigue the class, and offer a counterbalance to her relatively straightforward curriculum. She said, “Ill teach the classics, you teach the unclassified. I really liked her.  But she is not the woman I am here to tell you about. That woman would be met six months into the position. It was after-school on a day I cant recall as being anything other than just “a day”. I was in the library with a student, introducing him to a few writers of the aforementioned literary period and nature. I gave him—Andrew—a copy of Emperor of Dreams; a collection of Clark Ashton Smiths more fantasy-focused short stories. Previously, I had given him The Weird, a compendium of Weird Fiction and Weird Fiction-adjacent stories compiled by Jeff Vandemeer.  Of the stories, “Genius Loci”, a Clark Ashton Smith tale, was Andrews favorite, with T. E. D. Kleins “The Events at Poroth Farm” a close second. Delighted, I mentioned that I owned several books of Smiths stories, and offered him one. I met her during our first discussion of the first few stories he had read.  She was his mother. Her name was—can no longer say is—Marissa. I had never met her before; my tutelage usually lasted only about twenty minutes per student, as most of them had other educational needs that I could not provide. I was almost always the first the students met with, and I suspected this ordering was intentional, to get my particular studies “out of the way”, so that the Maths and Sciences could be given greater time. I understood it, wasnt insulted or made indignant by it.  Marissa arrived to retrieve her son earlier than usual because he had a doctors appointment—which he had innocently failed to mention, and for which I apologized on his behalf—and was in a word, “stressed. ” Not over the appointment, which was just an annual check-up, but because she had waited for her son to exit the school for ten minutes before deciding to come inside and find him. I would soon learn that she hated being late to things, even if her lateness was tolerated without criticism or emotional injury. Marissa was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman I had ever met—and would ever meet—and I, for the briefest and silliest moment, felt insulted that Andrew hadnt told me about her. Like being jovially upset at a friend for not pointing out—or not pointing out soon enough—an attractive woman in public; giving you only a short glimpse of flowing hair as she walked out of view.  Curly red—a soft, natural red, not some harshly-dyed crimson—hair fell upon relaxed yet firm shoulders. Freckles, small, light, and scattered, dotted a cutely-round face, in which two brilliantly green eyes were set. She had plump—though not comically so—lips, and a smile that was effortlessly pleasant. It was like looking at a best friend, if that makes sense. Someone with whom youre so deeply comfortable; someone so immediately identifiable in a sea of people, who in their own ways are also uniquely different. I felt a  warmth spill into me from her at that moment.  As she whisked him away, I felt myself drawn to her in some inexplicable gravity of attraction, and—in her own way—she mustve felt it as well, because she stopped then, and turned towards me. She apologized for her haste, and in a gesture of oddly-hasty trust, invited me to accompany them, so that I could continue my work with Andrew.  Professionalism would have me immediately and politely decline, as would my own general sense of ethics, but something—her beauty, lets be honest—compelled me to accept the invitation.  I accompanied them, informed her of Andrews work in class—phenomenal—and gave a brief history of the writers in which he showed interest. She appreciated the briefing, and expressed her gratitude for helping her son find his “passion”. Hers, she told me, was sports; she had wrestled in high school and followed basketball fervently as an adult. I had played on a few school-sponsored footballs teams as a child and early teen, both flag and tackle, and once had interest in watching the professional sport, but overall the desire to engage any further was lost as I entered my late teens and became enamored by literature, video games, and other things which would then be referred to as, “Nerdy”.  Andrews physical health was just as impeccable as his educational performance, so the three of us returned to their home. I spent an hour—the longest period ever—with Andrew, discussing the stories hed read and recommending others based on which he liked the most. His favorite so far was “The Dark Eidolon”, so I recommended “The Colossus of Ylourgne” for him to read after the rest in the collection, since it was not present therein.  After the session, I planned on departing; not wanting to further impose on their privacy, and also wanting to get out of there before I did something stupid and unprofessional like ask his mother out on a date.  Of course, she asked if I wanted to stay for dinner.  And, of course, I did.  The rest can be guessed from that alone, and I dont want to dwell too much on those early, teasingly romantic interactions. They were pleasant, of course, but also awkward; mostly due to my own behavior and hang-ups. I was only twenty-three, and despite the undeniably powerful feelings I had for her, I didnt initially want the permanence the circumstances would demand of my attention and life. Andrew, though a cool and likeable kid, was still a child, and not my own. But of course, it was an all-or-nothing situation, and I could not have a relationship with Marissa without Andrew eventually being—and me seeing him as—my son.  His true father was out of the picture. Thats all that was ever offered, and I accepted it without further information. I had learned with my own father that some things are best left undiscussed, unmentioned, and while not forgotten, forsaken. We lived a wonderful life. As wonderful as a years worth of life together can be. Andrew and I got along splendidly—I hadnt expected any real change—and Marissa and I interacted in a way that made it seem as if wed known each other for years. That immediate warmth and familiarity I mentioned earlier. She was funny, incredibly honest regardless of the consequence, and natural. She didnt pretend to be anything she could not naturally, effortlessly become. She accepted who she was, and I never once detected that she behaved a certain way to garner unmerited attention. I felt so comfortable, around her, that at times I found myself laughing at my initial hesitation to join our lives.  A year after we met, the horror arrived. It tore her from my life. Of Andrews fate, I have no idea. But when it happened, I remembered my fathers words. To this day they still come to me. Remember what you are.  I am a human being. No matter what delusions I may suffer, or praises I may receive which would suggest the achievement of some higher existence, I am still a lowly, pathetic, cosmically insubstantial human.  I was reminded of this the night Marissa was murdered. The night Andrew escaped, or was  taken; I really dont know.  We were watching Infinity War, in our living room (I had moved in with them) on a 70inch TV (a Cyber Monday purchase so affordable as to have been necessary. The size and definition worked together to immerse you so totally into the presentation that, in darkness, the other objects of the room became essentially unseen; visually disregarded and forgotten.  Im not a big fan of the more recent movies, and wouldnt have thought Andrew would be either, but he loved them, and Marissa enjoyed them to a lesser degree. The movie was nearing its sequel-requiring conclusion, when the screen went blank; bringing about an instant and absolute darkness. I immediately uttered an “Oop”, thinking that I mustve accidentally turned off the TV. I had the remote, and thought that during my inattentive shifting I had caused it to fall off my lap. But a slight movement of my hand showed this was not the case, as I brushed against the remote resting on my thigh.  My next thought was that the power went out, but this theory was immediately disproved by the now audible hum of the fan oscillating on Marissas side of the couch—Andrew sat between us. The fan was plugged into the same power strip as the TV and console.  Maybe, the game console had somehow come unplugged or automatically powered-off? Third times the charm, right?  Wrong, again. The explanation for what actually happened, arrived just as Andrew asked, “What happened? ”  Marissa's sudden scream explained it to me. I, sensing that something must of course be wrong for her to let out such a shrill and terrified noise—she had never once done so in the time I knew her—quickly figured out the reality of things as well. That a very unreal thing had occurred. Usually, theres a white light on the front of the game console to denote that its fully on. And on the controller, a blue light signifying the same. Neither was present, which, alone, would have proved true my third suspicion; that the console had automatically turned off.  But as my attention was forcibly brought to the darkness, I remembered that while the areas outside the TV were basically unseeable during the TVs use, you were still aware—albeit dimly—of distance, proportion, and your spatial placement relative to everything. This perception was completely absent in that newfound darkness, and only one conclusion could arise from that situation: we had somehow been rendered blind.  So, Marissas scream was warranted, and in a way, I allowed myself to express my own terror through her screaming. Andrew caught on, a few seconds later, and panicked as well; repeating the same question he had already asked, with variance of wording and tone.  It was hard to remain calm, both due to their reactions—again, warranted—and the circumstances. Going immediately, inexplicably blind was not something anyone would handle well, Im sure.  But we werent given time to contemplate how we all simultaneously became so disabled, because the horror Ive been so ponderous about getting to attacked us. It began as a sound, a massive  thud on the roof of the house. After that, different sounds which seemed to spread from the point of impact; like several lines of rope being drawn across a surface. Next, shattering glass—the “rope-sounding” things entering the house. After that, the sound of my own voice shouting, almost autonomously, for Marissa and Andrew to “Get down! ”. Through some instinctual—certainly not visual—perception, I decided upon this course of action as being immediately necessary. This instinct was right in impelling me to do that.  As we pressed ourselves flatly against the floor, holding hands and probably looking like those cutout paper-people doing the same, we heard extremely strange things going on just overhead. The rope-like things did some unknowable work throughout the room. We heard things being knocked over or violently entered. The sounds of things be constrained or ripped apart. The tightening of those frantic appendages around objects and each other at various sections, securing whatever controlled them to our house. In that moment I was honestly a bit thankful of the blindness. Because I heard—and this will sound stupid, or silly—in the action of the rope-things a certain sinister element. Or, if this is more understandable, a disregard, not just for our homes privacy, but of mankind and the things we expect of the world, and even of the laws of life and physics.  When the noise settled, and all that could be heard was the straining of those unseen appendages—the fan had presumably been destroyed—I felt around the faces of my family for their mouths; beckoning them to remain silent by placing my “pointer” finger longitudinally over their lips.  Andrew, a smart kid, nodded; which I felt. Marissa grasped my finger, and from her hand I felt the fear-induced trembling of her body.  I had no plan, then. I only knew that our silence was, for pretty understandable reasons, paramount.  It, however, had no such cares, and we soon heard it breathing up on the roof. I grew up in a small town, and had on many occasions heard the calls, shrieks, yelps, and of course, breathing, of various farm and woodland animals. And that thing up there sounded nothing, absolutely in no way like anything Id ever heard. I only recognized it as breathing based on the rhythm of the noise. But even that, the intake and expulsion of breath, was so odd and unlike anything of this world. The inhalations were tiered, while the exhalations were singular, great, and wall-shaking. Staggered breaths collected air, the oxygen was purposed, and the unnecessary elements were exhaled in a single reverberant burst.  It was fucking terrifying.  Something else was made apparent. Felt, rather than heard, and only by me. Had the others felt it, they would be here now. That feeling elicited the remembrance of my fathers words, and I finally understood the true meaning behind them. And, I think, the narrative—or at least nature—of his own past. The past he had refused to share with his own family. Remember what you are. The feeling was one of an existential insignificance. I felt in that moment like an insect, stunned by the sudden and oppressive shadow of an overhanging boot; petrified, in my own youthful insect way, by the heretofore unimagined, un-experienced phenomenon of outré  existences. Just as humans are aware of bears, cougars, and wolves, ants are aware of spiders, beetles, and worms. Both groups are aware of and may even interact with their respective taxonomical neighbors and foreigners. But put an ant in the early days of its life on a sunlit ground, then introduce to it the Titans that are humans, and its dim cognition will freeze; seize up upon beholding something so unimaginable, something so alien to what it is.  An ant, and really most insects in general, would dumbly attempt to investigate the human; thinking it not as a potential danger, but as something from which they could derive nutrients without harm. Others may attempt to avoid a foot or finger placed in front of them and continue on their intended way; again, not recognizing the potential doom, and stupidly thinking it to be some moving part of the greater landscape. They, in either case, had not remembered what they were—if they were ever truly aware. I realized, instantly, that the presence atop our house was not something I should investigate. It was not something that I, with my human intelligence, could ever hope to understand or communicate with. I understood that there was no challenging the things decision to rest on our house. I knew, the moment I heard its breathing, and felt the enormity of its being, that my best and only course of action was to regard myself as an insect beneath the shadow of its boot. And hope to God—certainly not the one that created it —that the entity had no traces of human cruelty; that it would not let that boot fall upon my body, effortlessly and utterly stamping out my existence.  I couldve been declared cataleptic, if a physician was there to diagnose me.  Marissa and Andrew had not remembered—if they ever truly knew—what they were.  Both remained relatively quiet, but neither as quiet as I. Marissa whimpered, almost inaudibly, but that was enough. I heard the untethering of ropes, and the swiftly-displaced air as they shot towards her.  I heard them fasten and tighten around her. At which point she ceased to obey my command, and let out an anguished roar—far worse than her frightened scream.  I then heard the following sounds, which, as I type this, make my fingers tremble and miss the keys.  The sounds of her being ripped apart. In half. Arms first. I dont know. She was audible for a few seconds. Death wasnt instant, nor free of pain. I felt her blood rain down on me in that darkness. Shower me with pieces.   I heard Andrew shout out a, “Mommy”, which was of course followed by the sounds of other ropes undoing themselves from the house and rushing towards him.  Fate, if it exists as an ordered, regulated mechanism, worked fortuitously, then. I mentioned earlier that my initial feelings about joining their family were uncertain; my acclimation to the circumstances doubtful. I thought it would be difficult to see Andrew as he deserved—needed—to be seen. As my son. But at that moment, in the darkness beneath that incognizable entity, with its murderous tendrils plunging towards Andrew, I felt in my animal core that he was my son.  It drove me, regardless of own peril, to shout out, “Run! ” A single word bearing all the authority, motivation, and love I could ever offer him. The fortune of the moment, the grisly, morbid chance that worked in my favor, was that Marissas final declaration of agony rose over my command, so that I was not heard by the creature.  But Andrew heard me, and he felt the gravity behind my words. He may not have known that his mothers fate was sealed, but he knew that what I had ordered was something not to be ignored or disobeyed. I heard his soft footsteps flee towards the only window of the room. A window I had heard broken earlier. I did not hear Andrew exit. Which, I thought was good. I believed that he had, in that blind, frightened flight, had enough sense to dive through it, rather than clumsily climb out. Thats what I hoped. The window wasnt far away, and I never heard any sounds from the tentacles  that would indicate they pursued him. And, it didnt take a huge amount of spatial awareness to orient oneself in relation to it. A light breeze could be felt coming from that direction.  All of this I tell myself, day after day, because I have not seen, found, or heard from Andrew since that night.  The creature seemed to play with the remains it held of Marissa; something about the swishing of air and arced droplets of blood led me to believe that it was swinging the pieces around. Like a child would a doll.  Eventually, maybe after a few minutes of this, it got bored, or something else caught its attention, because it suddenly let the pieces fall; they landed with a wetness that I wont described beyond that.  Another a few minutes passed, during which it continued its horrible breathing, while I assume its extensions did things of an assuredly unconveyable—and, therefore obscene—nature.  After this period of post-kill elation, or probing, or whatever, I heard it grunt; or express some alien equivalent of it. Then, to my nigh ecstatic relief—and to the relief of the house, no doubt—it lifted off the building. I felt unencumbered by a weight I had not acknowledged when it first burdened me, and I heard the retraction of those infernal ropes back to the main body.  My vision returned shortly after; just as quickly and completely as it had left.  Ill make my account of the houses state brief. It was a mess. Things, as I suspected, were knocked over, broken, and bored through. The ceiling, collectively through each visible area, was caved in. Andrew was nowhere to be seen.  Marissa was everywhere. Let your imagine conjure up what it will. But I can assure you that it will never approach the awfulness of the reality.  I looked for Andrew, of course. Went through all the official channels, and conducted searches of my own. I was of course questioned relentlessly, both for his disappearance and Marissas death, which, in the mind of a detective, were undoubtedly connected. Understandable, considering I was the “new boyfriend”, which amounted to no greater innocence for them than a stranger. At no point did the police bring up Andrews biological father, which has led me to my own conclusions about his whereabouts. Form your own, if youd like.  There was nothing that could actually implicate me in her death, nor in Andrews disappearance, and the state of the house—most importantly the roof—argued in favor of my explanation; that something had fallen on the roof, and a piece or the pressure of this something had so abhorrently killed Marissa. To my “luck”, there was a large hole in the roof; probably from where a mass of tentacles or some other, thicker appendage had come through.  I didnt suggest at any point to the authorities that this something was not of this world. Even the absence of this something had not served to incriminate me. The months went by, and I still searched for Andrew, even though part of me began to think that he had simply been snatched up once he made it outside. Or had not even been that lucky, and was seized inside the house, silently. Consumed, or taken with the thing for purposes I wont dare imagine.  Now, I only bother to recount the experience so openly because I feel that what happened, what actually happened, should be known. I will still search for Andrew, but that doubt has seeded itself, and will only grow, and if I cant find him, I at least owe it to him to tell the truth of what happened. To Marissa, as well.  The creatures appearance is still unknown to me, and I still consider that a kindness—even setting aside the horrendous acts it performed. I dont know how or why it came to our planet, or our dimension, but if it is so mind-numbingly alien as to induce blindness by proximity alone, through solid matter, I would not under any delusions of protection want to behold it.  I cant even say that I hate it, despite what it did. No more than I can hate the sun for being hot. Looking at either is obviously unadvised, and neither can be humanely reasoned with or confronted. And Im sure that both, if they should be inclined or naturally driven to do so, could eradicate our species. With lashing tentacles or solar flares. I lost the love of my life, and our son. That loss will haunt me for as long as I live. Sometimes, in fits of self-hate and survivors guilt, I curse my father for telling me those words of salvation. For allowing to save myself and live on without my family. For, implicitly, making me aware of forces and things which are usually  kept from our ken by some grace of God—or cosmic chance. I love you, Marissa. I love you, Andrew. And Im sorry that we couldnt spend much time together.

The kindness of strangers. Hello everyone, I've been a fan of this subreddit for quite a few years now. I never thought I'd get the chance to post something here but low and behold, fate had different plans in store for me. This happened last week and I'm still nervous about it (I have bad anxiety when people are yelling) Cast: EM:Karen S:Sophia (friend) Blaze: My split personality that decides to appear in this story. and ME: Me Backstory: I am currently a 16 year old male, I've been suffering with DID (Dissociative identity disorder) for about 5 years now and trust me when I say this, it's not fun. I have 6 split personalities, all of which are different and named themselves. Try to imagine living in a house with 6 other people but everyone shares the same body (that's basically how my life is everyday. Due to this I've had a hard time making friends as it's hard to explain this to most people but luckily I did manage to make one friend who is studying to be a psychologist (guess that means I'm their practice patient LOL) Story: It was a Saturday and me being the lazy dork that I am decided that I would spent the day binging my favourite movie series. At around 12:30 in the afternoon I got a text from S "Hey OP wanna hangout today. I thought about it for a minute about it and then decided "why not" so I got dressed and headed out to meet her. We hung out for a bit and got lunch at (fake name) Waterfall cafe, we chatted for a while and she asked me some questions about my DID (she'd done this before so I was used to it) and as I was answering her, I got that creepy "I feel like someone's watching me" vibe all the way down my spine, I ignored it and we continued our conversation. After we ordered our food S said she was going to the bathroom and would be back soon, she got up and left, leaving me by myself, I just put my ear buds in and listened to music on my phone at a low enough volume that I could hear if someone was talking to me. I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder, I turned off the music, took out an ear bud and looked up only to see a Karen staring at me! The following conversation issued: EM: Why were you lying about yourself to that girl! Me: looking confused* What're you talking about? I didn't lie EM: Yes you did! you lied in front of my daughter! points to a table with a little girl and a man sitting at it* Me: getting nervous* I didn't lie now can you please stop yelling at me EM: Stop lying young man, I am an adult you will do as I say! I could feel my hands shaking from fear, just as I was about to speak S came back S: confused* What's going on here? Why're you yelling at him? EM: in a fake nice tone* This young man lied to you, he lied about what he has, that discorded doesn't even exist S: Actually it does, I'm studying psychology and- EM: Don't worry you nice young lady, I'll make him apologise to you for lying Me: even more nervous now* B-But I'm not- EM: Shut up! you need to stop lying and tell this girl the truth about yourself and that you're wrong about having that disorder! I could feel everyone staring at me because of Karens shouting, I was shaking like crazy, practically on the brink of tears, hoping something happens to make her stop and sure enough, something does happen, everything go's black for me! Blaze was now in charge) Little side note about Blaze: He shows up when I'm feeling scared or angry, he doesn't take anyone elses bullshit, He's a typical bad boy, loves fighting and HATES people who are entitled Back to the story: Now I don't remember any of this seeing as what happened aren't my memories everything from this point till I took charge again is from what S told me Karen was still yelling at me, then I suddenly slammed my hands on the table whilst jumping to my feet Blaze: yelling* How about you shut up fat cow! EM: gasp* How dare you talk to me like that young man! I am a mother, I deserve respect Blaze: irritated but no longer yelling* I don't care if you're a mother, if anything you should be setting a betting example for your daughter by not eavesdropping on other peoples conversations and yelling at random strangers EM: How dare you say that to me young man! What's your mothers number, I'm calling her and telling her that she raised a terrible s- Blaze: If anything, you're a terrible mother, I mean what kind of mother would teach her kids that it's ok to yell at people just because you're too stubborn to keep your fat nose out of other peoples business. Now if you're still to stupid to realise that you're in the wrong here you might just wanna pull out your phone and look up exactly what DID is. S: irritated as well* Here, just read this *shows Karen her phone* EM: reads the page* None of that is real, it's all lies! all of it! Blaze: facepalms* How dumb can you really be lady, You aren't even the least bit curious as to why I'm not scared or almost crying anymore? Karen when silent for a moment then got the "Oh my god, it's true" look on her face. She said sorry and walked back to her table (most likely out of embarrassment and shame. Blaze and S sat back down S: smirks* Nice going Blaze, can you give OP control now? Blaze: Ugghh, fine, you're no fun, S I took control again and we left with out food for free due to the inconvenience caused by that woman. I'm still a bit shaken up about the whole experience but I'm happy that Blaze and S were there for me. P. S. If you guys wanna know about my other 5 personalities then please don't be afraid to ask me: UPDATE: Since many of you guys are interested about what having DID is like and about my other personalities then I'm more then happy to tell you about them. Having DID can be confusing and overwhelming at times, since I basically have 6 other people living in my head I sometimes get really bad headaches. When one of the others take over and I come back, I'm always wearing something different (Since we all have different taste in clothes and food) and have a gap in my memory from when I was in control till the point I come back. Here's a link to a site that can explain things better then I can though Now for my other personalities: First I'll tell you their names, what I need to be feeling to have the take control and then what they are like, favourite food and likes/dislikes Edward: He comes out when I'm doing any logical thinking or puzzles. He's a gentleman, smart, respects everyone, loves nature and reading. He dislikes anyone being disrespected or harassed and his favourite food is pasta. He mostly wears a suit and tie Blaze: You already know about him: His favourite food is chilli though. He mostly wears a shirt with the sleeves torn off, ripped denim jeans and boots Jester: He appears when I'm happy or having fun. He's a happy fun lover, enjoys pranks, Loves April fools day and hanging out with others. His favourite food is pie (any kind, doesn't matter) He mostly wears happy and/or colourful clothes. Shadow: He's basically the opposite of Jester, he comes out when I'm feeling upset, he doesn't like talking to anyone, enjoys reading and being alone. His favourite food is Burritos. He only really wears dark clothes (hoodies, shirts, pants, ect) Rain: He appears when I'm feel love towards anything or anyone, He likes flowers, painting, singing and dancing. His favourite food is Strawberries. He wears clothes that have anything to do with love on them (shirts with a heart on them, something that says "I love you, ect) Noxious: He doesn't show up very often so I don't know that much about him, I do know that he hates me though, I don't really know what he likes or dislikes.

The kindness of strangers imdb. Use yellow or outlined subtitles, people. 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Actually there is a new book out that tells a more truthful version about the epic of flight. George Washington saw the first balloon flight in America from the Philadelphia Prison, in like 1790 I think. In any case the books name is Aeronauts The Struggle to Fly it is historical fiction where all the characters and series of events are historically accurate and real but the conversations are filled in. It's really a good read. The kindness of strangers salka viertel. The kindness of strangers 2006. The Kindness of stranger.

The kindness of strangers review

The kindness of strangers novel

The kindness of strangers nick cave. The kindness of strangers nick cave lyrics. The scariest thing about this is Helen's face. The kindness of strangers by katrina kittle. NO TL;DR OR APOLOGIES FOR THE LENGTH: Dont ask for my credentials or backstory… Im not a down-and-out drug addict turned-janitor-turned-professional-turned-CEO-turned motivational speaker, Im just a 24yo dude whos striving for self-improvement, and decided to type up some guidelines which I believe would help one lead a fulfilling life. A lot of it is regurgitation of self-help lit Ive read, and a lot of it is admittedly platitude, but I figured that if nothing else, it would help reinforce these positive mindsets; 10 key mindset principles/strategies to embrace; 1) Love yourself. You deserve the best. You should strive for your potential - the most fulfilled version of yourself - and that potential is virtually limitless. This is the single most important mindset to adopt, as it serves as a foundation for literally everything else. Its not a case of arrogance or entitlement, but in the sense that you would want the best for a family member of SO that you deeply love. A lot of people self-sabotage (often inadvertently) and complain that they cant break free of negative habits… I believe this is largely due to the fact that deep down theyve built up so much self-hatred that they dont even feel worthy of attaining their goals and living their most fulfilling life. Fuck that. I dont care what your backstory is, you are worthy. I am. We all are. You wouldnt be reading this if you didnt believe you were. 2) Understand that you are the architect of your fate. A lot of people adopt a fatalistic mindset as a coping mechanism, but instead believe that you can achieve anything you set your mind to, and let go of limiting beliefs. Sounds like some bombastic BS you were told in primary school before reality hit you like a ton of bricks right? I thought so too since Im a rational minded guy, but then I realized theres literally no sense in not believing that. Yeah youll probably never win Mr Olympia, youll probably never be a billionaire, youll probably never be entirely content with the choices youve made – but that shouldnt stop you from trying to attain your aspirations and realize your dreams potential. Dreams are passive not proactive. No matter how disastrous your position may seem, I can guarantee that people in worse positions have gone on to achieve their goals through the adoption of principles not unlike these. Use that as inspiration. Also remember that no matter how ‘unfair life has been to you; whether you were born crippled, had to bury your child, were wrongly imprisoned for 20 years – you are the only one who can help yourself now, so long as theres a will, which ties back to the first principle. When life gives you lemons, you can either squeeze them in your eyes, or make lemonade…you cant change the hand youve been given, but you decide how to play it. Youre not responsible for all the things that befall you, but youre entirely responsible for how you deal with them, which in turn will determine future events. So in this sense, whilst a few pages will be torn, you can write your future. This notion should be empowering, not daunting. Be mindful that whilst learning from the past, and planning for the future you should still very much be living in the present. Don't just dwell in the past and dream of the future; If your life were a film, that would be tantamount to you whipping out your phone half-way through and re-watching the intro scene on YouTube, or conversely, browsing Reddit during a slower paced character development section whilst you wait for a cool scene. It's a rather shit way to watch a movie. There are valid reasons why one may attempt to avoid the present - pain, grief, anticipation, yearning and so on - but these headspaces are like quicksand in that the longer you allow yourself to wallow in them the deeper you'll sink, and the harder it will become to return to the present. Completely dysfunctional PTSD afflicted war veterans have gone on to recover and lead healthy lives, so it's entirely possible. 'Neuroplasticity' is an incontrovertible 're always capable of changing your brain for the better. 3) Never stop growing. Never rest on your laurels. Be proud of past accomplishments, but understand that youre forever a work in progress, and always be eager to continue refining yourself. Dont allow your static achievements to define you; “I won a national bodybuilding competition”, “I got the highest grade in my cohort”, “I earn the most out of my peer group”… theyre not solid foundations for self-worth. Instead, be proud of the fortitude, dedication, creativity etc you possess, which manifested in such achievements. Circumstances can change as the wind blows, but mental faculties youve developed will remain a core part of your character. Learn from constructive criticism, but dismiss other forms. 4) Dont let a molehill develop into a mountain – pull the bandaid off quickly. When you procrastinate, the thing youre avoiding doesnt disappear, it just amplifies until its almost (mentally) insurmountable. Time spent procrastinating is never remotely enjoyable. You always have that sword looming over your head everywhere you go, everything you do. Train yourself to get used to acting as early as possible and getting it over with – then enjoying the satisfaction of doing so. Hearken the Nike slogan and…just do it. Beginning is always the greatest hurdle. If youre a master procrastinator youll need to pull in the opposite direction and essentially turn your mind off and just start the task at hand. Literally, pretend youre a non-sentient creature devoid of higher thought for the 30 seconds it takes to open up your Assignment document and type your name, or 5 minutes that it takes to drive to the gym, or 5 seconds that it takes to approach the cute girl who smiled at you earlier. Just go through the motions. Youll be amazed at how well you handle the next steps, and itll become slightly easier every time. Another good rule of thumb; If something can be done in 5 minutes or less, and you arent driving on the freeway or holding a newborn baby, drop what youre doing and get it done immediately. I've mentally imprinted the phrase "A year from now, you'll wish you had started today" and I refer to that every now and then when I sense myself stalling off a new task. Be aware of any perfectionist streak you may have, and try to keep it in check. The law of diminishing returns applies to most facets of life. Some degree of perfectionism can be leveraged as a virtue, but the maladaptive form will lead to 'analysis paralysis' inefficiency, and ironically a poor outcome - because at this level the context is irrelevant, and it's simply a manifestation of insecurity. If you must channel your perfectionism into something, let it be an artistic hobby or something of personal nature, and learn when to let go in other time-sensitive areas. 5) Understand that life isnt supposed to be easy …and it would be boring if it were. Theres a quote painted on the wall of my gym “nothing worth achieving was ever achieved without effort. I used to roll my eyes, but now I realize how incredibly accurate it is. Imaging yourself having infinite wealth… once youve got the holidaying, partying, debauchery and materialistic spending sprees out of your system…unless youve cultivated some form of passion or cause you can devote yourself to, imagine how fucking unfulfilling and apathetic that lifestyle would be. Everything would lose its value, including relationships, and youd struggle to find the motivation to do almost anything. Learn to enjoy the grind itself, not merely the outcome…the journey not the destination. Thats the essence of life. Naturally, without the negative spectrum of emotions and experiences, the positive ones wouldn't exist either. Without adversity there would be no triumph. No matter how mentally resilient you become, you'll always encounter in reality true courage isn't a lack of fear, it's acting in spite of it. I'm sure Ned Stark would agree. 6) Galvanize yourself into taking positive action. Your conscience/intuition/better judgement, whatever you want to call it, generally knows whats best for you and what it takes to get there, but is often overpowered by the pessimist in us. Here are two techniques you can use to confront that pessimistic voice; 1 Retroactive self-reflection. Heres a confronting visualization activity to motivate you into taking action; When faced with a daunting decision or challenge (one that you want to take but are hampered by your negative thoughts) envision yourself as an old folk – Zimmer frame, toothless, baby food, incontinent, lonely, family only drop in once a month if youre lucky – and youre propped in front of the TV, but youre not watching daytime talk shows, rather youre viewing a montage of all the opportunities youve passed up in your younger life, and youre writhing with regret because youll never know what could have been. Attach this scenario to a word or phrase you can mutter so youre not actually trying to imagine an old man shitting himself when youre at a critical moment. Remember two adages; If you try you risk failure, if you back out you assure it; rejection stings for a minute (perhaps even a month) but regret will haunt you for a lifetime. 2 Explicitly stating negative behaviors before or whilst youre engaging in them. For instance “Im going to procrastinate on reddit for the rest of the evening, then panic tomorrow afternoon when I realize the assignment Is due in a few hours and I haven't even started”, “Im going to allow a spiteful comment to ruin my entire day because my self-worth is completely dependent on what a stranger thinks of me” “Im now going to go masturbate to some unrealistic BS for 40 seconds of mild pleasure then feel utterly awful afterwards, and ruin one of my socks in the process”. Make sure to articulate it in a silly voice so it highlights how ridiculous that line of thinking is, and separates it from the self that wants to improve i. e. the true self. If you're anything like me, you'll actually struggle to even get the full thing out before you're launching a counterattack. 7) Interrupt negative thoughts with positive ones. Just as the former pervade your mind whenever you consider a possibility or opportunity, you can give them a taste of their own medicine by interrupting them with optimism. For instance fellas; you see a gorgeous, friendly looking girl browsing a few meters away at the supermarket, you make eye contact and she briefly smiles at you…your immediate response is actually to approach her…but that thought is swiftly interrupted by “What if she thinks Im creepy? What if this complete stranger laughs at my face? What if I shit my pants and vomit on her? ” The solution; interrupt those pessimistic thoughts instantaneously with “or what if we have incredibly chemistry, were exactly what the other one has been searching for, and we fall into a passionate romance that develops into a lifelong partnership? ” or “so what if that happens? If she thinks Im creepy Ill know I need to work on how I project myself. If she laughs at me I will have dodged a bullet. If I shit myself and vomit Ill become more resilient for it as I will have survived the worst case scenario. ” So put yourself outside your comfort zone, and into situations where youll have the opportunity to silence that naysaying to really spite it, take action. Of course, in situations where there is a substantial degree of risk, you must make the distinction between baseless pessimistic thoughts (which should be overridden) versus the conscience speaking from experience (which should be heeded within reason. 8) Positively reframe situations. Similar to the previous point, but more generalized. Instead of looking at the gym as a place of sweat and pain, look at it as a place for strengthening the body and mind. Instead of looking at a job interview as a torturous exercise in awkward silences, humble bragging, and sycophantism, look at is as an opportunity to improve the way you project yourself, fortify mental resilience, and potentially enter a fulfilling career. Instead of telling yourself ‘I cant do this or ‘Im terrible at this include the addendum ‘yet and ‘but, I can learn. Learn to enjoy challenges as they become opportunities for either success or learning. Look at failures as chances for error correction and personal growth. Learn to deal with setbacks and failures constructively, without giving up and reverting back to detrimental habits. Dont expect yourself to fail, but dont lambaste yourself if you do – treat it all as a learning exercise. Many are scared to try their absolute hardest in the fear that they may still ‘fail – however the silver lining in this situation is that youve now experienced the worst case scenario and lived to tell the tale, thus you become more resilient to future failures, and are able to focus on identifying causes rather than the act itself. After all, humanity has progressed on the back of countless failures, but wouldnt have if they were never capitalized as learning opportunities. 9) Any progress is good progress. Rome wasnt built in a day. You cant edit a blank page. Dont expect to go from a lazy, unstructured layabout to Mr Efficiency overnight, over a week, over a month, even over a year – this is placing (often deliberately) unrealistic expectations on yourself and setting yourself up for disappointment. Deeply ingrained negative thought loops and harmful habits take time to overcome and redirect into positive ones. Our brains are adaptable and It will happen eventually, but its done incrementally, and it takes time, consistency and resolve. Divide large tasks into manageable chunks; a series of sprints rather than trying to run the marathon. Everyone runs their own race at their own pace – dont exclusively compare your progress to that of somebody else, no matter how similar you believe yourselves to be. The only person you should truly compare yourself to is your younger self. Another crucial axiom to remember when pursuing long-term goals is "Never give up on a dream goal because of the time it will take to accomplish. The time will pass anyway. Caveat: Comparing oneself to others is natural, and you'll be judged in relation to others throughout life in a social and professional context - however when determining personal progress, your best yardstick is yourself. 10) Keep yourself accountable. Note the tasks you wish to achieve that day in a journal of some sort, and reflect on your completion of them at the end. Commend yourself for achievements, but dont chastise yourself over those you didnt. This is crucial in building self-efficacy, and eventually it will become habitual. Try to minimize the concessions you give yourself; “Today is gonna be a lazy day, Ill get back on top of things tomorrow” but dont allow a slip up to completely ruin any momentum and progress youve made. Youre only human, and even the most productive people have ‘lazy days – plus self-disgust isnt a sustainable motivator to improve. Nonetheless, endeavor to remain mindful of what youre doing as often as possible, and gently guide yourself back on track if youve become derailed. At the other end of the spectrum, thrive on the liberating moments where you've managed to turn off autopilot and take the reins of your own life - use this to drive further constructive behavior. Life guidance: Physiological. Ensure you get sufficient sleep (at least 6 hours) during roughly the same time windows each night. Emphasis on night because daytime sleep isnt as rejuvenating. Dont lay in bed in the morning, get up immediately. Circadian rhythm has an enormous impact on mood, and metabolism, so optimize it. Have cold showers to build self-efficacy In a tangible way (start with them warm but finish with them cold if you prefer. Stop any intensely stimulating activity and go screen free for at least half an hour before attempting to sleep, as blue light suppresses melanin production. Exercise routinely and consistently. Increased energy levels, increased virility, improved self-esteem, and mood elevation are well known corollaries. Its also a microcosm for seeing the direct and tangible results of hard work. Go for a mix of weightlifting and cardio but tailor them to your specific goals. Remember to stretch, do any preventative and rehabilitative exercises if required - remember the golden rule; an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. As with most things extremity isn't healthy either - steroid use, deliberately dehydrating, extreme distance running, competitive powerlifting etc, but that's your prerogative. Ensure you arent sedentary for hours on end. Aim to get up and walk around at least once every hour. Eat a healthy, balanced diet. Calculate your calorie requirements and try counting calorie intake a few times roughly understand how it translates to food. Food is your body's fuel source, and it's incredible how many people put more thought into filling up their vehicle than their own body. Try to spread meals throughout the day for ongoing energy, and limit the amount you eat during nocturnal hours. Stay hydrated. Do what you can to improve your physical appearance and presentation within reason; take care of your hair and skin, ensure good dental hygiene, use antiperspirants and deodorant to eliminate BO. but dont obsess over appearance/become conceited. Without being neurotic, take any preventative measures you can to maintain optimal constitution; wear sunscreen, use eye protection, work ergonomically, floss etc. If you wish to express your creative/counter-cultural/rebellious/zany side through your appearance, go right ahead, but remember that unfortunately there are still many who will form preconceptions based on your appearance (yes thats a fault on their part…but still something you'll have to deal with. Dont overly stress about aches and pains, but have routine check-ups, and visit sooner rather than later if you believe something is amiss with your health. Try not to put yourself in overly risky situations. It's natural to seek adrenaline, but take a minute to weigh up the risks before doing something which your better judgement is advising against. Remember you only get one body (and mind) so take bloody good care of it. Social and Relationships. Socialize as much as possible (even if you have to force yourself sometimes. If you dont enjoy socializing with your current friends, try to find those with whom you do. Humans are social creatures, and long-term solitude takes a heavy toll on ones mental state. Money, status, appearance…nothing can buy authentic positive relationships. Never take them for granted. Theyre perhaps the truest indicator of a ‘successful life. Love, friendship, and respect arent unconditional. If they were, they would be meaningless. Take an interest in other peoples lives. And no matter how frustrated you are, never leave a partner, family member, or friend on a bad note. Aim to give your family the best side of yourself. Unfortunately we seem to have an almost natural instinct to displace frustration and anger built up from work and daily life onto family members, because we can ostensibly get away with it. People can be tolerant and forgiving towards their loved ones, but they're not stress balls with 10 minute memories. Make a conscious effort to be good to them no matter how shit you're feeling, because they deserve that treatment, and so do you. Help others. Again, were social creatures and the act of helping others in need delivers tremendous boosts to self-worth (In this sense I think altruism is a paradox but that another topic. Mood is contagious. Try to surround yourself with positive people who inspire you and encourage you to chase your potential. Try to help troubled friends/family in whatever ways you can, but know where to draw the line, at which point their wellbeing is out of your hands, and worrying is only going to pain you. Avoid or cut out unequivocally toxic people. I dont believe anyone is evil, or beyond redemption, but minimize your exposure to those who only bring you down. Try to find a partner who is essentially a best with benefits. Romance will eventually fade, and you want to ensure that youre left with somebody you can spend your life with whos personality is a good compliment to yours. Remember when you allow somebody to build you up, you give them the power to break you down. Allow yourself to become infatuated with someone, but dont allow your self-worth to hinge on their feelings toward you. Never make someone a priority if they only make you an option. Desperation and neediness are two of the most unattractive qualities somebody can exhibit. If you can feel yourself losing your temper, briefly envisage that somebody you deeply respect, or somebody who looks up to you as a role model is present and think twice. Anger never wins arguments either. Also ask yourself if the frustration will still exist a week from ances are the answer is no. Little acts of kindness/thoughtfulness such as genuine compliments (not effusively) go a long way and can truly make somebodys day. If more people adhered to this the world would be a slightly more pleasant place. People don't often remember what you do or say, but they remember how you make them feel - so even if the act is seemingly insignificant, it will be remembered in a positive light. In a relationship; lay solid foundations early on and don't expect issues to simply resolve themselves later down the line, communication and trust are the two cornerstones, be ok with spending time apart and maintaining your own lives, reframe arguments as 'us' versus 'the problem' don't sacrifice personal passions, remember that emotions are irrational and can't be analyzed only accepted, they're a two-way street which require equivalent effort from both parties to function whatsoever let alone healthily. Career. Try to work within a career you find fulfilling, but understand that the notion of ‘doing what you love is specious, and in some cases can actually ruin the passion if you associate it too closely with mundane work. You can still find your work fulfilling without having a ‘passion for it, such as when you feel youre having a positive impact, being adequately recognized, or have achieved mastery in a given area. Don't be afraid to leverage Nepotism. There's nothing dishonorable or condemnatory about it. Perhaps there was once, but these days it's basically the norm. So the CEO's wife's sisters hairdressers less qualified son got the job instead of you - people like doing personal favors. Don't hate the players or the game, learn to use that to your advantage. Expand your network, and do favors for others so they can reciprocate. Who you know gets you the job then what you know keeps you in it. In an interview; Ensure you arrive a few minutes early so you're not additionally stressed. Bring a copy of your resume. Prepare sufficiently - no matter how much you hate the idea of pre-rehearsed responses, no matter how skilled at speaking extemporaneously you may be, it's still worth anticipating questions and planning answers. Research the company and industry. Maintain good body language and eye contact. Don't criticize past employers (find a more constructive way to discuss difficulties. Show a glimpse of your personality/humor but be reserved/formal. Don't be afraid to pause and think before answering (something that society needs to do more in general. Ask them questions; what are a few words you would use to describe the culture of the company. What do you personally enjoy most about working here. Let's say I've been selected for the role - what measures will be used to gauge my performance. Remember it's a two-way process - you're also trying to determine whether it's a place that you want to spend most of your waking life (granted you can't always afford to be very picky. In a workplace; Be friendly, authentic and don't hide your personality but maintain a degree professionalism (especially at after work drinks etc. avoid very controversial discussions, politics and drama wherever possible even if you secretly thrive on that. don't shit where you eat so to speak. Keep a low(ish) profile and work particularly hard initially to make a good first impression. Make yourself less expendable by putting yourself in linchpin positions with projects and tasks wherever possible. do (reasonable) favors for coworkers. Try to ensure that others can clearly see the results of your work/effort. Don't be afraid to (tactfully) assert your opinion to your superiors or anybody if you believe it's worth hearing - they won't see it as some act of insubordination, and they'll probably respect you for it. Misc Lifestyle. Do not even consider having a child until you and your partner are ready to dedicate your lives to raising them as healthily as possible. If youre not in a position to adequately provide for them (financially or emotionally) or you have personal aspirations that will be difficult to achieve as a parent, youre not ready. This is the one thing in your life that you can't half-ass, and theres really no margin for error here. Finance wise, create a separate savings account in which a portion of your income is automatically deposited (or do so manually. one that gains the maximum interest offered and which you don't touch unless times are tough. Only withdraw from it when faced with a crisis or when carrying out a significant well-thought out purchase, otherwise treat it as though it doesn't exist. Don't get caught up in the paper chase and hoard copious amounts of money - ensure your family is well off and has future financial security for peace of mind, but don't become parsimonious. Money spent creating happy memories (or attempting to) is never wasted. Invest in passions and hobbies within reason, donate to virtuous causes, travel and see as much of the world as you can. Never judge somebody purely by their wealth; given that it's not everybody's goal and there are so many other factors, it shouldn't be used as a universal metric for success. Always find time to indulge in passions or interests, as they have a significantly positive impact on ones mood and outlook. My primary passion is music, and It's honestly been a lifeline for me. Cut out porn. forever. Its not just desensitizing you sexually and creating unrealistic expectations, but the dopamine rush associated with it mimics drug use, and is insidious in the long run. Sublimate those urges into productive tasks or behaviors that will help you attain the real thing. Its hard, but worth it. Also put time boundaries on general internet usage. Learn how to cook. Save money, build self-sufficiency, conducive to being healthy, and it's a very attractive trait. Try to be punctual and stick to your word. Reliability is one of the most vital attributes in both a social and professional context. Unreliability is often interpreted as a lack of respect for the other parties in the social setting, and a lack of regard for one's work in the professional setting. Read. Ideally edifying content, but not purely self-help literature - anything that engages you - fiction or not fiction. Besides from being enjoyable, it delivers a plethora of benefits. Alternatively, listen to audio books or podcasts. Ideally, dont do drugs, dont smoke, and keep alcohol consumption to a minimum. Im far from a prude, and Ive done my share of substances, but they really can precipitate a downward spiral, particularly in people more susceptible to addiction and mental disorders. Life is challenging enough without them. Prove to yourself that you don't need to rely on them as a social crutch, or as a temporary escape from reality, because that becomes self-perpetuating. Be ambitious; try new things, visit new places, speak to strangers – you never know where they may lead, and what hidden passions may be uncovered by doing so. Remember that friends are just strangers you haven't met yet. So are enemies, but that doesn't help my point. Say yes to (m)any offers/opportunities besides those in which your conscience/intuition/gut is firmly telling you not to - socially, professionally, romantically, etc. This isn't a 2008 comedy Starring Jim Carey, so don't feel guilty for saying 'no' but challenge yourself to take up auspicious offers you would usually refuse. Keep up to date with current events and friends lives, but be wary of the pernicious effects of the news and social media. The former is sensationalized and catastrophized for mass appeal (vicariously) and the latter presents a very distorted portrait of peoples lives (aka their highlights) which can lead to feelings of inadequacy. Try to detach from sources that exacerbate your insecurity (social influencers) and follow sources that inspire creativity and zeal (artists. Try to minimize the amount of lies (even white lies) you tell. Others may never know the truth, but you have to carry the guilt around, and it begins to erode your self-concept. Use a diary, calendar, or some form of system to manage your time as effectively as possible. Its incredible how much time seems to materialise out of thin air once youre using it more efficiently. Life is short. Time flies by just as fast when youre moping around in difference is you arent getting anything accomplished and consequently feeling guilty for it. Find 10 minutes to do something meditative each day. It doesnt need to be meditation per se, but anything that allows you to reach a state of tranquility and block out the noise of daily life – known to reduce stress and help build self-awareness. Eventually youll be able to enter this state with greater ease, and it can be a useful tool to use when required. Play a sport/join a club. Ideally something that you're interested in, but really anything to keep you active, socializing, and expanding your friend network. Social leagues are a good idea, because they're not so competitive that there's stress involved, but they tick the other boxes. Even if you despise politics, take a small time to research the policies and recent history of the political parties you'll be deciding between, so you can have a somewhat informed vote. Consider whether they're designed to be immediately appealing or beneficial in the longer-term. Political parties know that most don't bother to do any research in the lead up, so try to win votes via methods such as propaganda, smear campaigns, hollow rhetoric, and fear mongering. Even if you'rel disillusioned with the system, don't allow that to prevent you from using your vote, and if you're not fond of any of the parties still vote for the one(s) you're least not fond of (there's a simpler way to say that. If political discussion only frustrates you as it does with many, then avoid it until it comes time to vote again. short of engaging in political activism there's nothing you can do once the ballots have been counted anyway. Compartmentalize your tasks and mindframes; work hard, play hard. Attempting both concurrently will leave you in limbo. Philosophical. A meaningless existence doesn't necessitate a purposeless life - it means you get to decide what that purpose is. Life is your playground. As an atheist, I'm living under the assumption that this is it. I've never let that thought demoralize me though, rather I've always viewed it as being life-affirming. I've no idea why anything is as it is, why nature is in relentless pursuit of procreation, why we've developed the sentience to question our own existence - but these aren't questions that will ever be answered. The fact is we're here, we all have the ability to experience intrigue, wonderment, joy, pleasure, mirth, love and fulfillment to some capacity even if we don't understand why, so we might as well capitalize on this and try to maximize these in our lives and the lives of those around us. If you havent identified any strong passions in your life, dont despair. Continue improving yourself in every other general sense, and understand that (arguably) most people dont have burning, innate passions – theyre often more subtly disguised and uncovered serendipitously. Either way, a lack of strong passion(s) wont prevent you from living a rich and fulfilling life. Be skeptical, never cynical. The former will help guide your decisions, the latter will just preclude opportunities. Question everything, make minimal assumptions, if a statement sounds fanciful, it likely is. Operate with the knowledge that some people will sometimes employ machiavellianism to benefit their own agenda, as we all have done to some degree, however don't resign to the belief that everybody you meet is full of deceit until proven otherwise, as that will lead to general bitterness toward society. Learn how to have debates not arguments; always focus on the issue and don't resort to ad hominen attacks (even if they do) as that will weaken your stance and chance you have of persuading the other party. Remember that many peoples opinions have been deeply ingrained and reinforced throughout their life via confirmation bias, so often they'll cling to their argument even if they can see the error, to avoid embarrassment and hypocrisy. Try to enter into discussions with a (genuinely) open mind, willing to have your view changed. You never actually learn from those who agree with you, so debating is a healthy way to challenge your own beliefs. Attempt to minimize knee-jerk reactions & pearl-clutching in response to taboo or contentious topics, as that's inimical to productive discourse and progression in general. Practice gratitude - from family support to simplicities such as running water - as it will help with positive reframing. Remember that your mind is a product of its genome (biology) and envirome (environment and experience/nurture) stereotyping/typecasting/xenophobia etc are natural heuristics inculcated throughout history as it offered a survival advantage in the days of tribalism, thus embedded in our biology. You can, and should always attempt to consciously override it, but don't be disgusted with yourself, or others for instinctively doing so. Social norms evolve faster than biology; that should never be used as an excuse, just an explanation. Never prejudge anybody based on their title – purely by the integrity of their character. There are corrupt doctors whove beguiled their way through life, and honest vagrants whos honor was their undoing. You be the judge. Try to avoid evaluating somebodys character until you know their story; they could be trudging through the darkest hour of their life without any coping strategies, as expressed through hostility and negativity. Truly dominant individuals don't need to try to make their dominance known, as they're quietly confident in themselves. In the wise words of Tywin Lannister; Any man who must exclaim 'I am the King' is no true king. Dont try to be something youre not. Place yourself in settings where you feel comfortable speaking your mind; remove yourself from those in which you don't. Adapt to the social context of course - nobody acts exactly the same around everybody so don't feel guilt - but dont compromise core values for other peoples approval. Social acceptance is biologically instilled in us, but accept that not everybody you meet is going to like you, and if they simply like your tailored persona then they dont truly like you. Remember the asshole equation; if somebody is rude to you, they're the asshole (or going through tough times. everybody is rude to you, you're the asshole. Try to be less judgmental and more empathetic toward others for holding their values and opinions. Introjection and indoctrination are powerful processes. Put yourself in their shoes to determine why they do, think and say the things they do. Do the same with yourself pertaining strong opinions you hold. Remember that (virtually) nobody thinks of themselves as being the bad guy in a situation. You judge yourself by your intentions and others by their actions. Everyone is entitled to fuck up, just as you are, and theoretically, why would you be any different to them if you were in their shoes? Never attribute to malice what can be explained by ignorance. Never hold against somebody that which was out of their control. Ethnicity, heritage, gender, religion, sexual orientation, fetishes, birth defects, the fact that their father is a convicted serial killer – everybody deserves to be born with a clean slate. It's senseless being proud or ashamed of your heritage/lineage, as you've personally had no influence over it's development, and therefore shouldn't allow it to have any effect on your self-worth. doing so would undermine the agency of the individual. Live and let live – everybody has different trajectories in life. If somebody wants to get face tattoos, dedicate their life to bodybuilding, marry a member of the same sex, as long as its not directly effecting you, who gives a shit? If you know them closely you can voice your opinion, offer your wisdom, but so long as it's bringing them happiness and not harming others, it's their life - and you have no right to dictate how they live it. Seek to find joy everyday in the small things. The big picture is frankly bleak; well all have to part with the ones we love eventually, and who knows what becomes afterwards, so dont dwell on it. Of course, thats not to say dont pursue long-term goals, as those are what will bring fulfillment. Ultimately, dont take life too seriously. Laugh instead of cry. Literally nothing is too serious to be joked about (besides the obvious things like metal splinters, single ply toilet paper, Uni group projects and cassowaries) but know when to laugh. Don't immediately judge others for making light of morbid situations, as it's a common coping mechanism. Be able to laugh about your own 'flaws. but if you'd rather not, and have the ability, do something about them. Summarized by a great quote; take your responsibilities seriously, but not yourself. P. S. Mental Illness; Addressing the elephant in the room; mental disorders. I deliberately avoided mentioning them, so not to invalidate the advice offered. Utilize the above advice after treating any underlying mental disorders you may be harboring. If really struggling, consider speaking to a psychologist/therapist, as their detached yet knowledgeable perspective can be valuable. A good method for self-reflection if nothing else. If completely devoid of hope and unable to cope, if the negative voice in your head is deafening, if youre paralyzed by anxiety - see a psychiatrist ASAP. Unfortunately in some cases the only way to rectify aberrant mood and thought is through psychiatric dication, CBT, works. Theres no longer a stigma, and if somebody condemns you for seeking mental health treatment that's merely a reflection of their ignorance and insecurity. Of course, this will only serve to get you back on your feet - then its the adoption of principles such as these that will have you racing toward your potential.

Film Crit Hulk has recently begun blogging on his Patreon website (non-paywalled) which is unfortunately not allowed on r/movies. If you are interested in reading more I'm sure you can find it from googling; for now, I'm just pasting the text of the article in below. Joker and the Problems of Narrative Framing 1. What Do You Want? So Joker got nominated for 11 Oscars. All this means is that we are now talking about whether the film is “good, actually” or “bad, actually. ” Hurray for the discourse! But if youve read me enough, you know I dont really like the words good and bad. I get why they show up a lot in criticism. Every day movie-goers are often trying to justify how one should spend 20 bucks at a theater, so the essential question becomes “is it worth it? ” But its really hard to answer that question because the notion of “good quality” can go in so many different directions. Especially with a film like Joker. Its like, what, you want me to talk about the lighting? Its pretty darn great. Do you want to know if Joaquin Phoenix is an incredible talented actor who breathes life into his performance? Yeah, he totally does. But theres always going to be a relativism with these kinds of appraisals. Just as there are going to be snooty people who believe dramas are inherently “better” than comedies. But I believe it was Roger Ebert who often cited the more apt question… “Is the movie doing what its trying to do? ” Is it succeeding on its own merits? And when you look at things in terms of execution alone, you can happily make the argument that Mad Max: Fury Road is as good as Duck Soup is as good The Godfather is as good as Daises is as, yada yada yada. A lot of people seem caught up in this particular dialogue when it comes to the critical success of Joker, with it being dark “comic book film” and all, but these questions are largely distractions from whats really going on. Sometimes getting to the heart of a film even goes beyond appraisals of relativism. Sometimes, it is actually about getting into the complicated question of how we value the “what its trying to do, ” for it that there that we often find the most truthful version of the thematic crux. It directly taps into the old Cormac McCarthy-ism, “you dont know anyone until you know what they want. ” So perhaps, I can ask a much better question. “What does Joker want? ” On the surface. It presents a lot of ideas of what it wants to be about, from mental health, to class, to abuse. You could throw a dart at any scene in the movie and probably hit a meaningful subject. But when it comes to the way those ideas stack up into a meaningful depiction? Well, thats where we get into the problems of framing. 2. “… From A Certain Point of View” When we talk about unreliable narrative and viewer distrust, we often think about it in literal terms. Something like Kurosawas masterpiece Rashomon, where he has characters presenting competing narratives in hopes of finding the truth. By watching this unfold, the audience can observe a great truth about humanity: that people can hide, warp, and belie narratives, often to their own selfish or placating purposes. I feel like many people understand this, but I understand both the power and terror of this habit implicitly, for Ive both borne and bared it. We dont usually like to call it lying, but thats what it is. And the simple reality is that humans really have to learn to see themselves soberly, for that is where we become our healthiest selves. But often, in our lifelong journeys, we learn this the hard way. In essence, the same is true of movies themselves. Not just when it comes to the veracity of their subject matters, but the veracity of their circumstances. Because its so easy for people to watch a movie and just think about what the characters do within the constraints of the story itself. It becomes easy to defend their actions with a “well what else would you expect them to do? ” as if this was all some documentary we were watching. But no, someone made the decision to create this situation. Then they made the decision to put the character in that place to make that decision. We call this “narrative framing” and often, thats far more important to understanding the artistic intent. For the most jaw-dropping examples of this dynamic, I think of the work Neil Breen. Within certain circles, hes known as an infamous independent filmmaker who makes bizarre outsider art. In Fateful Findings, a film in which he is the writer/director/producer/star, this middle aged weirdo plays a super hacker who also has ethereal superpowers and sure makes a lot of pretty women kiss him a lot. It instantly reads as creepy wish fulfillment, but if that werent scary enough, he is constantly having his character turn down the advances of his friends underage stepdaughter. He literally screams with righteous indignation, “I am not attracted to underage girls! ” as the film shoots her seduction otherwise. The framing of this is basically one big “uhhhhh, what the fuck, Neil? You keep saying you dont like underage girls but literally eeeeeeeeeeverything about this is making me think otherwise. ” The problem isnt what the character is saying, the problem is the larger narrative framing makes it seem like the opposite of its intention. That example may be jaw-dropping, but cinema is full of all sorts of hypocritical bits of lip service and unsettling desires. Something like Death Wish may position itself as a standard revenge fare, but by having the main character become little more than a vehicle for enacting violence upon minorities, it belies the intentions of the film. The problem is how easy it becomes to “not see” this component. We have to constantly remember that movies are powerful experiences. That they can make us feel for the character, and contort a series of circumstances that make their actions may seem completely justifiable. But to find the problems, often we do not have to look within the character. Often we have to look at the artist that is framing them. 3. Enter The Framer As Joker s buzz reached a certain level, I overheard a curious remark, “wow I didnt know Todd Phillips had this in him! ” [Insert gif of confused girl looking off to side] Its weird to say “I did know, ” but thats only because Ive been thinking really hard about Todd Phillips for a long time now. Because hes the outsider who came into Hollywood with a GG Allin documentarian and ended up making broad comedies. That kind of tells you a lot, but the rest of his career confirms it. If the ethos of a comedic worldview is defined by its targets, then on the surface, films like Old School and The Hangover are full of the standard stuff you would find in a Happy Madison production. The core difference is slight, but perceptible. The jokes in Phillips films are a bit more terse, blunt, and uncaring. The women in them are more straightforward in their characterization of being nagging, inept bores. Same goes for the strippers with non-existent agency, who only live for the placation of men. Beyond this, Im not sure his work cares about much of anything. Life. Death. Consequence. Inconsequence. It all glides right by as mundane cares deserving of a cackle before moving on. Where the Sandler-verse at least pays lip service to family notions, theres something infinitely more misanthropic in Phillips work. The Ringer even had to outright ask, “are the friends in Todd Phillips movies actual friends? “ And I cant help, but muse that perhaps no filmmaker has seemed like he truly hated people across the spectrum. The problem is that Phillips is also a “better filmmaker” than a lot of people who put out broad comedy. As a photographer, I think hes actually got a good eye. He makes comedies that know how to keep the high-key lightness, where you can actually feel the glare of sunlight, or see a pock mark, or the sweat dripping off your brow, and often employs them to good effect. Hell, he can even make a moment of action cut together. But it has a specific effect on broad comedy you might not expect. Where a Larry The Cable Guy movie would try to land a crude joke with a lot of over-emphasis (think like a doing noise or something) Phillips uses a light touch to glide right over a groaner and make it work “better. ” And at the same time, he can also glide over a joke so dark it doesnt stick out. Like you remember how Zach Galifiankiss character in The Hangover is literally a pedophile? Yeah that funny, career-making performance of his? Hes a pedophile. Its an early throwaway joke when theyre near a school and then the film just rushes right past it. Now, all of these instincts would have some kind of point if Phillips was genuinely interested in subversion. Like if he was really some Waters-esque bourgeoisie shocker, but the truth is he doesnt really seem all that interested in it. With Phillips, it seems like his only real intention with darkness is not to talk about it, but just to embody it. Hes not doing cognitive thematic gymnastics with any of this. He didnt even seem to understand the basic difference of the effect of violence in this film versus the violence in John Wick (short version: theyre very different. Dont get me wrong, theres an interesting discussion to be had there. But hes not interested in it. Hes just nakedly equating them in a way that indicates hes not exactly sure what he thinks of a lot of the violence in his own film. Theres no real intent for me to finger wag at him here, it just gives way to a grimmer realization. Todd Phillips movies are popular because society can be just as cynical as he is. Or at least, society has just as many cynical parts to them. Look no further than the unending popularity of The Walking Dead, a piece of criticism which Ill leave to David Simon to articulate far better than I could. And when you look at the dramatic nature of his existing photography, the cynicism at the heart of his work, and his capacity to make the dark joke that glides right by? You realize there was no one more “qualified” to make this movie. You may take this sentiment to try and call me out, to proclaim “you didnt like this from the start! ” And so I have to reply, “no. ” Like all films, you give them a chance to surprise you. The fact is that film is so powerful a medium that they always can surprise you. And honestly? In some ways, Joker really did surprise me (Ill get to them soon. But in other ways, the film confirmed the very simple and obvious fact that I am making here and now: Todd Phillips is the one doing the framing. And he has something he wants to say… 4. Sympathy for the Devil Arthur Fleck begins the movie getting beaten up by unruly teens. His situation does not improve from there. Arthur tells us that his life has been nothing but pain and we see this plainly. He suffers from a seeming number of difficult mental illnesses. He has to take a vast number of medications. His state-appointed therapist doesnt listen to him. He lives with is mother and has to dote on her and try to make her happy. He does his unwieldy best to connect, but every second he is shunned and pushed away by those around him. They treat him as either a walking punchline or punchable object. Hes the one who is mugged and yet he is the one who has to pay for the broken sign. His coworkers lie and coerce him into bad decisions. At virtually every second of the film, Arthur is picked on, shunned, or hated. It becomes so much that it almost feels comical in its overwrought seriousness. Like in the very first scene, where Arthur lies on the ground, freshly beaten by street kids, his flower literally “crying” as the films title card hits. Its all SO MUCH. But so is the rest of the film. And the goal of all of these choices is more than clear. It wants you to have sympathy for Arthur. I choose that word carefully. I write about this notion a lot but there is a difference between sympathy, which are “feelings of pity and sorrow for someone else's misfortune. ” and empathy, which is “the ability to understand and share the feelings of another. ” And I think Arthurs plight speaks to the core difference. For the magnitude of his suffering and his inability to fix it are so massive that it plunges the viewer into a sympathetic situation - one where they are watching an impossibly sad human being in an impossibly sad reality. We can relate with some of his plight, of course. Im not trying to argue against that (in fact, Ill come to some of the core feelings we empathize with later. What I am saying is that it is not a stretch to say the film makes a concerted effort to play for your sympathies instead of create a nuanced situation that feels closer to ones own life. And I am saying this decision is very much on purpose. To illustrate why this matters for the narrative framing, lets think of an apt comparison. When we watch Tony Soprano in The Sopranos, we are also watching the story of an anti-hero, right? Hes a gangster, a killer, and a greedy man often feeds on misery and his own incredible selfishness. But we also watch the way Tony conforms to society. Hes a husband, a father, and a friend who finds a way to have fun and engage in basic niceties. In a way, he even enjoys these pursuits. But the aim of a lot of this is to build an understanding of the link between the audience and the more down-to-earth features of his character. Heck, its a show where one of the very first scenes is him walking out like a schlub in his bathrobe to get the paper and there is nothing more routine in our lives than the daily mundane. You may worry immediately, “oh no! Is it trying to make you empathize with that. ” No, what its trying to make you understand is that Tonys sociopathy lies in his monstrous ability to compartmentalize. He can bounce between killing a former rat and guiding his daughter on a college trip at a moments notice. Its trying to put a bright shining light on Tonys own disconnect with the world and his situation. And it is DEFINITELY not trying to evoke a sense of sympathy for his behavior in doing so. Yes, I know that the Joker and Tony Soprano are very different characters with two very different kinds of goals. But I am also saying these are two different treatments get at two very different wants from the audience. Because instead of allowing us to look on and understand Arthur, the way Phillips plays so damn hard for sympathy cant help but feel unnerving. Hes working so hard to frame a world where Arthur is trod upon for anything and everything Which makes us wonder, why does Joker want all this sympathy for the character? What is the real motivation? What does it really want from these early scenes? Well, it wants to justify the actions that are to come… 5. Justified Before we get there, we have to acknowledge that Arthur Flecks portrayal is a lot more complicated than the simple fact that “people are mean to him. ” In fact, the depth of Arthurs plight deals with two amazingly complex issues. The first is his mental illness. While Arthurs mental disorders are vague and numerous, the film does shed a specific light on what we know as the Pseudobulbar affect or PBA, where displayed emotions are inconsistent with the actual feelings inside. I cant speak enough to speak to the veracity of the portrayal, but what I can say is that Joaquin Phoenix is a hell of an actor. The moments, especially early on, where Arthur gets caught up in an inappropriate reaction are brought to life with heartbreaking verve. You can see the struggle on his face, the competing urges of expression and horror at tics that simply cant be helped. You see his pain, his fear, and his worry about the misunderstanding they cause. From this we understand that Arthur genuinely cares about connecting and being understood, and these moments put forth the most humane ethos that the film has to offer (often before being shut down by others incredibly callous impunity. Again, I want to reiterate how much of this movie is “well made. ” The effectiveness of these tactics in terms of building sympathy is incalculable. And if theres anything that speaks to the movies possible sense of heart, it is these very moments. For it captures something so honest about the way society overlooks those who dont fit in with the standard way of life. The way those with mental illness get shuffled away. The way we avoid eye contact with homeless people. The way some people would rather do anything than feel a moment of uncomfort. These moments are so achingly real. The same goes for the moments where Arthur goes to see his state assigned therapist, who sees him as nothing, a cog, a file case. He asks “you dont listen, do you? ” And she doesnt. And as overwrought as those systematic moments are, they still feel like the meaningful foundation of what Joker is trying to explore… Until the film moves right past them. Because the second Arthurs medications get taken away, we dont see the likely events that would happen. Yes, there is a way that the film captures a kind of manic energy and “freedom” that comes from going off medication, but the reality of doing so is often far more complex and unwieldy. Heck, you cant even make the argument that going off the medication corresponds to the films treatment of his visions / imaginings because they start much earlier. Really, in terms of the actual depiction, all going off medication does is tap into the ugly depiction that people on medication most fear: Arthur feels stronger and more empowered. Hes suddenly less unburned by guilt and self-hate. He becomes assured, more calm, even better at talking. If this werent enough, it also flies in the face of the grim realities of PBA because its a neurological disorder, where the various causations dont “get fixed, ” especially in this manner. But this part of the realism doesnt matter, because its not what the film is really after. In short, if Joker cared about mental health, it would care about it. It would go on to fuel a narrative that explores the complexity of everything Ive said here. Instead, all the struggles with mental health simply become a means to invoke sympathy and then justify his violent ends. And that would be offensive enough if it werent for the topic that comes next. Because the second plight deals with abuse. For much of the film, we see the abuse that Arthur suffers in his day to day. Whether from coworkers or strangers, the one seeming respite is his relationship with his mother. But that of course seems fraught as well. Not just in the way that he has to dote on and take care of her as best he can. Its the quietly oppressive sense of sunshine that she hangs over every detail of his life. She tells Arthur that he was put on earth to spread joy and laughter, which makes his life the embodiment of the “put on a happy face, ” mantra. Which ignores so many of the very real struggles he has in his day to day life. We see Arthurs conflict. Early on, we believe he wants warmth and love. That hes really trying to put himself out there. To make people laugh and bring joy… but it doesnt reflect the inside of what hes feeling. And so it gets cast over him as a massive form of denial. One that will strike even deeper into the heart of his experience… Because the midsection of the film actually flirts with the idea that Joker is the secret bastard love child of Thomas Wayne, meaning that he and young Bruce are brothers. At first worry, one worries that this is going to be more of Hollywoods classist obsession with turning everything into bloodline dramas and daddy issue squabbles. Then we believe that the film is tackling the idea that powerful men use their power and money to hide abuse, insist that women make false accusations, and gaslight the whole scenario. But its all just a red herring, a way to build up to reveal that Arthurs mother was indeed lying to him. Worse, that she has been hiding the tremendous abuse from Arthur that he suffered as a child. The effect of this decision feels odd and errant. Not just in the way that it 1) makes me feel like this is so utterly inconsistent with what weve seen in their relationship, 2) invites so many more questions about how this was accomplished and how she got him back, 3) how this absolutely validates the gas-lighting rhetoric men offer and show that women are really madwomen who need to be locked in the attic and 4) helps feed the narrative of how the whole thing only blames the mother for abuse. Hell, the boyfriend abuser is barely mentioned, nor any abuse that is directed at her. So all the ire, all the villainy, its all the mothers fault for “letting this happen” and not caring that it did. Look, I can accept the broad strokes idea this is plot-line is likely meant to be a depiction of how “abuse gets hidden” and putting on a happy face for the ugly things we dont talk about. But there are so many elements about the portrayal here that feel like a vipers nest of issues in sexist rhetoric. So when it goes into the big confrontation between Arthur and his mother, I had all those questions swirling in my head, “How are they going to deal with this? How is this pain and heartbreak going to get covered? How is she going to justify herself? How is the movie going to deal with this subject matter at all? ” Instead, Arthur just comes back and suffocates her immediately. And it really doesnt bring up the issue again. Hes just free of it. By this point, youre probably getting a sense of the films modus operandi. After taking great care to set-up Arthurs struggles with the grim realities of his life, after wringing out all the sympathy it can, it just stops engaging them. Because it has no real interest in exploring the topics. It only wants to use them. Same goes for the all the times it cherry picks when Arthurs interiority gets explored. When you consider the framing, its not actually interested in any of these topics. Its only interested in how it can use them as motivation and justification for one single purpose… To shoot you in the fucking face. 6. For Want of A Nail Okay, lets cut through a lot of the bullshit. For all the lip service, for all the portents, for all the framing that tries to point you in a different direction… every single image and scene in the film presents a subtext of the problem thats really bothering Arthur… He feels powerless And in going through the situations described above, in stopping his medication, in murdering his mother, in shooting assholes, and in no longer being ignored, he becomes awakened to what having power feels like. The sense of freedom and control feeds him like a drug. I remember watching the subway scene, when he first lets out that angry instinct. At first, I remember first rolling by eyes at the overt bro-y-ness mixed with sadism, but you can imagine these are the kind of kids who have a certain president father. So fine, Joker I will accept the premise that these men are shitty. Which means I will accept them as targets. Arthur fires in defense, and then he goes after the last one for keeps. But given everything we had seen, I immediately fretted. Given everything we had seen from the character so far, from his own internal fear, to his wanting to do good and be loved, I wondered, “What would he think of what hes just done? How does he feel about this? ” He feels like dancing, of course. All notions of introspection disappear immediately. Meaning all willingness of the film to hang its hat on something concrete go away just as quickly. You cant even really draw a line of interpretation to the dance, other than the idea hes going inward, and indulging the power fantasy. Which we know is true because the second he finishes, he goes off to kiss Zazie Beetz in a fit of manic confidence and energy! Which, when it happens is precisely the kind of thing that makes you yell “oh fuck off! ” at the screen (but dont worry, well come back to her plot-line later. The film even confirms this intention when Arthur later says he doesnt feel that bad about it. So what the sequences really makes me question is whether Arthurs desire for good was ever real in the first place. If there ever a moment of being humble or actually yearning for connection. Was it all just another narrative lie? Which makes sense because all those moments so easily could have been codified as repression. All part of the storys endless problems in framing. Lets take the films vigilante instinct itself. Whats somewhat remarkable is that this shooting scene absolutely evokes an infamous 1984 subway shooting. If you dont know the one Im talking about, a person who will remain nameless was riding a subway, said he was threatened, and then shot four African-American men named Barry Allen, Troy Canty, Darrell Cabey, and James Ramseur. At first, he was hailed as a hero. A lone gunman who stood up to the influx of rampant crime that was plaguing New York City! But of course, it was just another toxic framing. With time, the real details of the event seeped out in the trial and it turns out the shooter was a devout racist who thought he was cleaning the streets of minorities. He even shot one them with malevolent verve and demented glee (then in true white supremacy fashion, he was acquitted of attempted murder. Even today, the event stands as the embodiment of racism in a nutshell; the Death Wish fantasy made real. So of course Todd Phillips took all the meaningful details of that event and perverted it in the most confusing and self-serving way possible. You could argue the film “smartly” picks its target by moving away from Arthur targeting minorities and instead targeting rich assholes. But this is the very dishonesty Im talking about. Its running from the very truth of what fuels vigilantism, and more importantly, public shootings. Hell, look at this country. Look who is angry and feels powerless. Look at every active shooter in the news. Its always been the same story of guys with entitlement getting coupled with the intersections of white supremacy. Especially because in the films 1981 setting, this wasnt the story at all. Hatred of the rich wasnt even on the to do list. Instead, society was moving toward an active embrace of the rich and Reagan era splurging. It was codifying violent crime along racial lines and praying for the kinds of draconian tactics that “restore order. ” Its such a stark, bold-faced inversion. To put it another way, do we really think Todd Phillips wants to kill the rich? Beside the fact that the dudes worth 100 million dollars, lets look at virtually everything we know about his work, his sound bytes, and his interests. Its not a stretch to argue that by inverting these two realities, it creates the most disingenuous, convenient framing imaginable. It exists to create a more “worthwhile” modern target that only serves to motivate the power fantasy at the core of the films true wants. When you go back the the films treatment of mental health, you can see the same exact pattern. The film cherry picks with Arthurs psychology in a way that feels deeply problematic. Yes, Arthur is in pain. This is assured. But the way this dynamic often manifests in people is with deep, unhealthy, and ingrained form of self hatred. Because the true pain about these sorts of scars is not because your life is filled with people attacking you at every second, but because of the horrible catch 22 that such abuse incurs - where you see an attack in everything, to the point that when good things happen you cant enjoy them because they feel dishonest. Even when love is presented you reject and push it away. The film seems to argue that what Arthur eventually has is a kind of uncaring sociopathy, but this is not present for every single time the film oh-so-conveniently gives him a reason to internalize and emote, but only at the exact points it wants you to sympathize with him. In turn, all the moments where he causes violence come from the moments he conveniently disconnects from it effecting him the same way. Arthurs entire awakening is essentially built around the realization that, “being nice is a lie. ” All those moments of wanting people to give him empathy and love? What he should have done is just join the dog-eat-dog fight. Which is where we come to the “incel” psychology of it all. Believe me, I dont want to invoke it, but the framing taps so closely to whats dramatized on screen. And its not the pain of all these peoples experiences arent real. Its that the pain becomes the excuse to lash out. Its the commonality of feeling powerless and entitled enough to turn that all into excuse to grab power and hurt others. Hell, to turn that hurt into power itself. This is why the depiction of Arthur rings so true to many people. Especially because this is what it can feel like, but the films motivation is able to hide underneath the false framing of social import. Which is why the film cant show any real moments of kindness toward Arthur because then it would let the air out of what it wants, which is for him to hurt everyone in a justifiable way. Just as the film cant let on to the fact that Arthurs violence secretly comes from a place of entitlement. Which makes me realize that there are two nail-based proverbs that I cant help but think about in regards to this dynamic. The first is that “when you have a hammer, everything looks like a nail. ” And thats true. When youre holding a deep, repressed anger? The things that trigger rage arent often the most productive applications. In fact, everything that doesnt go your way becomes a potential trigger. This is at the root of Arthurs nihilistic embrace of his own malice. But the second proverb is from “for want of a nail, ” which seems like it may characterize the same instinct, but is actually about small actions leading to large unintended consequences. Heres the Todd Rundgren version: “For want of a nail, the shoe was lost, For want of a shoe, the horse was lost, For want of a horse, the rider was lost, For want of a rider, the message was lost, For want of a message, the battle was lost, For want of a battle, the war was lost, For want of a war, the kingdom was lost, For want of a nail, the world was lost. ” I cant help but think of the way this shows not only the nature of unintended consequences, but the way Jokers violent actions spin out and cause untold amounts of chaos. A world that is effectively lost because of the unmooring of on one mans malice. Only this one is so much less accidental, but the proof positive of what happens when you begin to pull the world apart piece by piece and dont regret it. But honestly? The thoroughness of this metaphor is where it all becomes trickier. Yes, Joker has a hammer. Yes hes looking to hit anything. Yes, this will tear the world apart. The fact the movie is so outrageously good at characterizing all this is why defenders many will argue the simple and obvious conclusion… “This is all on purpose! ” They will argue that everything I am saying is the point of the movie. Which is why I see the defenders of Joker bring out the steady stream of defenses about depiction not meaning endorsement (yeah, I know) and then make a quick comparison to how its like Taxi Driver. But it is actually in such comparisons that they directly betray their intention… 7. Driving Taxis Martin Scorsese has a long and storied career making films about deplorable subjects. To be clear, he also makes incredible films about far more humane subjects, like single motherhood, the struggle of faith, the repressions of genteel society, and the joyous delights of cinema itself (please see Alice Doesnt Live Here Anymore, Kundun, Silence, Age of Innocence, and Hugo if you havent. But the original statement is also true. Martin Scorsese has made a number of films about gangsters, killers, and immoral capitalist monsters. But the reason he has such critical success in portraying these subjects is because he characterizes the entire range of their seductive reality. While many would prefer a hand-wringing, finger-pointing moralistic approach, instead Scorsese has been bluntly honesty about the ways we ARE enamored with these subjects, especially as individuals. But he documents all of it: the ways we love them and also the ways they repulse us, become un-rootable-for, and cross clear moral lines. Which means hes not only framing fairly, but doing thorough and brilliant observation. In short, Martin Scorsese has never pulled a punch. This is why the comparisons of Joker to Taxi Driver make me deeply uncomfortable. You could argue that Phillips film is trying to show the whole entirety of Arthur, too. That its clearly showing all the reasons to love him and find him repulsive, but it comes back to the framing. To put the difference bluntly, there is no moment in Taxi Driver where Travis Bickle is meant to invoke your sympathy. I mean, hes clearly a depressed, struggling young man, but theres nothing about the opening that is meant to pile on and make his situation feel dire, nor tug at your sense of pity. More than that, De Niros performance puts up a clear wall with the audience, just as Scorseses camera keeps that same kind of distance. Between the two, it creates an ability for the audience to observe and perhaps find fascination it the subject, but that comes with the needed sense of separation from that same subject. It gives you the ability to be the artistic observer, not the sympathizer. Meanwhile, Phillips camera practically fixates on Arthur. Its interested in every single pain and slight on his face. Every little emotion and feeling is read plainly. Every shot feels like its Arthurs feelings alone, as hes looking at someone else off screen or to the edge of frame. Its almost jarring when Bryan Tyree Henry shows up and you realize this is the first opposing character who is also given a sense of humanity (god hes a great actor, too. And the few moments where the camera does pull away from Arthur are merely meant to also make you feel for his loneliness and isolation. So yes, the two movies may seem similar in content, but there are actually two radically different approaches here. Note the way that Travis Bickles decisions also drive the action. Hes the one who goes looking for the gun. Hes the one who admits he craves violence for violences sake, not as revenge. Hes the one who goes looking for his own narrative in the world. And after he fails at becoming a political assassin, his ending “save” of Iris is where he terrifyingly frames himself a hero going to rescue the young maiden. The publics celebration of which ends up feeling like a bitter irony against his intention. But most important is the films ending. Where even if he seems calm and “cured” by this praise - his deep, unsettling urges and resentments still exist as a nagging itch in his rear view mirror. Meanwhile, Arthur drives so little of the action in Joker. Hes practically forced into it. The gun is handed to him. Hes assaulted to a ludicrous degree before he defends himself. Even the climactic talk show scene is so nakedly provoking. Its as if the narrative bends over backwards to give him a justification for EVERY action he takes. Because in the end, it doesnt actually want Arthur to feel like a victimizer. All it wants Arthur to do is slide right into his deserved place. There is also a monumental difference in how the two films treat the side characters around their leads. As much as Taxi Driver is also full of depraved people, rarely does their depravity feel so targeted at Travis. Theyre mostly living their lives and he is the one trying to insert himself. And the film actually has a huge amount of empathy for Cybil Shepards character. I cant help but think about the haunting moment in the porn theater, where she realizes exactly who this guy is and his startling disconnect with whats happening. We are suddenly TERRIFIED of this main character and his capacities (well get to the key difference with Zazie Beats character soon. But Taxi Driver is just full of these kind of moments where we adjust our perspective and can suddenly see the way that others see Travis. But even with the most key moments of Joker, rarely do we see how others see Arthur. Heck, even when he suffocates his mother, a supposed climactic moment of the films biggest relationship coming to a head, we only see his face as he experiencing the joy of an angry catharsis. Which all just proves, yes, problematic framing can often be literal. And when we talk about depiction and endorsement, these small differences matter so much. Because it leaves me to question the entire point of not only Arthurs understanding of himself (which is clearly confused) but the films understanding of him as well. Theres even a point where Arthur muses to his psychologist that “he doesnt feel like he exists. ” But given every second of the film, it feels like a dangerous reframing of the situation at hand. Because all the film does is fixate on Arthurs own emotions and perspective. So it feels like its being dishonest about the way we are really looking at this character. Its not that he doesnt exist… Its that no one else really matters. [Character limit hit - continued in my comments.

The kindness of strangers beverly hills 90210. The kindness of strangers torrent. The kindness of strangers 2017. The Kindness of strangers. Well, that looks original. Too bad I've seen the whole movie in this trailer. I have a wedding shaming story to tell. The wedding itself is bad, sure, but its the backstory thats the real crazy shit. Id like to share this story somewhere. Two engagements, one wedding, all the same man, within the span of a year and half. This is A LOT so read at your own risk. I also feel the need to say that during the beginning of this story, I myself was engaged. I had s ring and was planning my own wedding. Names and some details are changed to protect identities. Obviously any quotes are paraphrase. This is the story of Poor Rodrick Spring 2018: The Lie I used to work at a retail superstore. Late in the spring we got a new-hire, Poor Rodrick. (A nickname bequeathed unto him by my sister-in-law when I first started telling her the tales of this guy) Poor Rodrick and I worked in the same department. -What we learned about Poor Rodrick: Age: 19 -Personality: generally nice, nerdy & tech-oriented -Flaws: More than a little immature, tended to act like a know-it-all and CONSTANTLY referred to himself as a “playboy” and “flirt. ” - Related fact: Once told me he had “over 100 girlfriends during high school” - Romantic Status: Engaged The first thing Poor Rodrick ever told us about himself was that he had a fiancé. They had been High School sweethearts (after all those OTHER girls I guess. and were VERY in love. Theyd been engaged for a while (I dont remember how long) and were living together in her parents basement. He talked about her often, and always spoke highly of her. Nobody suspected any foul play. Then one Monday, about a month after he started, he seemed quieter than usual. My co-workers and I had started up the usual Monday conversations, asking people how their weekends were, what they did, blah blah blah. Poor Rodrick, who typically liked to discuss the latest movies he would see, or brag about the updates to his custom-built PC, was not talking at all, unusually focused on the file-work for our department. Poor Rodrick! ” I said, “How was your weekend? ” He stopped, looked up and gave all of us this weirdly guilty stare. Poor Rodrick: “Not great. my fiancé and I got into a fight. ” Me: “Oh no! That sucks! Are you two ok? ” Poor Rodrick: “Yeah, were fine, shes still pissed at me though. I asked him what happened, if he didnt mind sharing. And he said, “No, I should tell you all anyways. Its about the store. ” And we were all like. and then he told us. So, like most businesses created within this century, our retail store hired both men AND women. This shocking fact turned out to be quite the problem for Poor Rodrick. Poor Rodrick explained that ever since starting his new job he would often come home to his fiancé and talk about his work day. He would talk about what he did, what he was learning. and about his co-ed workplace associates. Well, anytime any name was brought up of the “not-male” persuasion the conversation would take a turn for the worse. Suddenly he was being grilled on who she was, what they did together and what did he think of her? But, always quick on his feet, Poor Rodrick had the solution! In order to protect his poor fiancés feelings and “not make her jealous, ” as he put it, he would confidently tell her not to worry, that this random woman co-worker meant absolutely nothing to him because: They werent pretty. Not that he didnt THINK they were pretty, or that he was dedicated and faithful to his fiancé, or literally any other RATIONAL excuse, no, this man had told his fiancé that EVERY female coworker that hed ever mentioned through casual conversation was, in fact, just super ugly. And somehow this had worked. Every. Time. But then, that weekend, she had come shopping. Poor Rodricks fiancé had innocently come to our store to get some groceries and the second she began to take notice of the staff, Poor Rodricks clever ruse fell to pieces. She was shocked and horrified when instead of seeing the store full of the hideous ogresses she has been promised, she was instead confronted mpletely normal looking women! Poor Rodrick was promptly chewed out for hours. Side note, I had actually witnessed this myself, though at the time I didnt know what exactly I was seeing. That Saturday I had noticed a customer standing with her cart in a far corner of our craft department, staring daggers at me and any other female wearing our work vest. I briefly thought that maybe she needed assistance, but after looking at the ferocity in her eyes I had quickly decided that I could not give her the help she needed. It was only later that I connected my experience with Poor Rodicks story. Anybody who worked with Poor Rodrick on a somewhat regular basis, myself included, were suddenly a little more concerned about the nature of his relationship. But nobody said anything, apart from one or two prodding questions like, “Shes kind of the jealous type, huh? ” or “Do your cover stories ALWAYS end that well? ” Almost said as jokes, but Poor Rodrick defended his womans honor to no end. “Shes not normally like that. ” “Shes the one who really gets me though, ” “I know I sometimes make her jealous because of how I am. ” Sometimes it felt like he was trying to convince himself more so than the rest of us. But he brought her up much less in casual conversation. Summer 2018: The New Cashier About 2 months later Poor Rodrick came to us with great news! His fiancé was looking for a new job! And she had just applied as a cashier! At OUR store! There was no doubt she would get hired. Our store had an infamously high turn-over rate. We all acted excited for his sake. She, well call her Cadence, got hired within the week. On Cadences very first day I ran into her. I immediately recognized her as the crazed woman from the craft aisle. I had decided almost immediately after Poor Rodricks announcement that if given the chance I would to properly introduce myself. I hoped that if I put in extra effort to be nice and get to know her, given her jealous tendencies, maybe she wouldnt register me as a threat. But I was being too hopeful. “Hi! My name is OP, youre Cadence, Poor Rodricks fiancé, right? ” She proceeded to look me up and down with the most vicious side-eye and said “Oh, youre one of the ones he talks about. ” I got out of there pretty fast. Threw something like a “nice to meet you see you around, ” and went back to work. I later learned that she gave a bunch of the other female coworkers that tried to talk to her similar greetings. What we learned about Cadence: Age: 22 Personality: Ha, just kidding she was terrible Flaws: Childish, jealous, very whiny, self absorbed and absolutely domineering over Poor Rodricks every move Related Fact: Also referred to Poor Rodrick as a “playboy” and would constantly complain about how she “had to keep an eye on him” otherwise hed “go wild. ” Cadences presence in the store got on everyones nerves, especially the members of my department. Over the time of her stay, Cadence slowly demanded more and more of Poor Rodricks time. Both on and off the clock. It started with breaks. Being a cashier, Cadences break schedule ran differently than that of our department, not to mention she and Poor Rodrick had radically different shifts. Regardless of this fact, Cadence insisted she and Poor Rodrick take their breaks “together. ” So, twice a day at the start of her break Cadence would sweep into our department like a hysterical whirlwind, screaming, “Wheres Rodrick? I texted him and told him were going on OUR break! Why didnt he text me back? Were going NOW! ” She would roll down our aisles, searching for her target, and the second she found him, Poor Rodrick was pulled away from us, sucked to her side at a dingy table in the back room. It didnt matter how busy we were, what project we were working on, or how annoyed our Department Manager was that Cadence was messing up our schedule, every time Cadence called for him, Poor Rodrick would simply give a defeated shrug and walk away. After that, it was their lunch breaks. As previously mentioned, Poor Rodrick and Cadences shifts usually started at different times, usually 3-4 hours apart. While Cadence could easily get away with stealing Poor Rodrick for her 15 minute breaks, it took much more effort to take him for an entire hour. Lunch breaks were usually are taken anywhere between 3 or 5 hours into someones shift, so the only way Cadence could force her and Poor Rodrick to be together was to convince managers to let one of them take their lunch either very, very, early or extremely late. It didnt really work out, though sometimes she could get little 10-20 minute overlaps. Poor Rodrick never outwardly complained when his lunch times were messed with, but would sheepishly ask whoever he was on shift with to take his lunch at weird times. During all of this I had only seen so much of Cadence. Other than brief moments in the back room or the few minutes of her daily visits to collect Poor Rodrick, I saw very little of her. I never saw how she acted while working, or what went on during those forced break times together. That changed about halfway through the Summer. Summer 2018 Part 2: Observations Halfway through the Summer Poor Rodrick and Cadence moved out of Cadences parents basement and got an apartment together. Before the move the two of them had come to work separately. They had one car between them, and I think whichever one was scheduled later would either get an Uber or get a ride from Cadences parents. After they got an apartment, however, suddenly they were paying rent. Money was too tight for Ubers, and I guess the free rides stopped. Cadence and Poor Rodrick started driving to work together. Poor Rodrick would start his shift and Cadence would wait it out in the break room until hers started. All this to say that my own lunch break began directly after Poor Rodrick clocked in, meaning that I suddenly had my whole lunch hour to observe Cadences behaviors away from Poor Rodrick. Occasionally I would sit down at her same table and attempt to chat, still trying to be nice in spite of everything. Her behaviors included: Constantly buying herself things from our store. She would open them up and show them off in the break room. She would then complain that Poor Rodrick was “so picky” about their finances -Listing the sins Poor Rodrick had committed the day before, always blaming her bad mood on whatever he had done -Once pulled out her and Poor Rodricks shared cooler that they brought to work and complained that he forgot to pack HER lunch -Once pulled out a laptop and complained that “Rodrick didnt charge it last night! ” I guess she was going to play games on it while she waited for her shift. -During conversations with me (and other female coworkers I later found out) she would say sketchy and suggestive things regarding our relationships with Poor Rodrick. Some of the things she said include: “It must be so nice for you, working with Rodrick all the time. ” “Wow, you like. Rodrick likes. too. We have nothing in common, unlike you two APPARENTLY. You must have so much to talk about! ” Side-note: This got on my nerves more than it probably should have. I would sometimes go out of my way to talk about my own fiancé and wedding planning, not to be mean or annoying, but to try to send as clear a message as possible, that message being: “I AM NOT TRYING TO STEAL YOUR MAN. ” Not usually an overly-affectionate texter, I started sending my husband-to-be lots of hearts and lovey-dovey gifs. “How many hearts should I send him this morning? 5 or 12. ” I would say to her when she got particularly pushy, “Gee I cant WAIT to MARRY him in the fall! ” These outbursts only did so much to shut her up, and my fiancé noticed and asked about the weird out-of-character texts. He thought it was pretty funny and definitely didnt mind the extra affection. -She LOVED those “Episode” apps on her phone, the ones that play out ridiculous and contrived drama stories. She was obsessed with the romance stories. The ones with cheating boyfriends/girlfriends or pregnant twins or whatever. She played these excessively -At some point, Poor Rodrick expressed an interest in health and losing weight. He changed up his diet, started working out at home, etc. and she was FURIOUS. She would constantly complain about his new eating habits, saying that he was “starving himself. ” (He told me he was trying portion control) She started buying unhealthy food from the store and would leave it in their shared cooler, hoping to tempt him into snacking, and then when that didnt work would just straight up shove food in his face, trying to get him to eat. Finally, Cadences schedule battle came to a head. She hated waiting for hours for her shift, and was tired of arguing over lunches. She told me one day that she had written in to HR to change her and Rodricks availability (or the hours they are available to be scheduled. She and Poor Rodrick would now be working the exact same shifts every day. And thats when things really went off the rails. Ill try not to go into too many details, but as far as the scheduling was concerned, everyone gave up. Poor Rodricks change of availability messed with our departments coverage. Cadence complained that her managers were trying to use her change in availability to give her less hours. During this time our store was going through a major change in management and we were losing lots of workers en masse. We all got taken out of our department to cover others. My lunches now, somehow, were overlapping with Poor Rodrick and Cadences, leaving basically no coverage for our department. It was definitely bizarre, seeing how Cadence acted when she was with Poor Rodrick. While away from Poor Rodrick, she would almost never shut up about him. But when they were together, she seemed to completely ignore him, or would just straight up insult him and act like whatever she said was funny. I assure you, it was not. I was invited by Poor Rodrick to eat lunch at their table, him and I were more or less friends. We chatted about movies, tv shows, typical nerd stuff. It was whatever, but Cadence made everything painful. She would be on her phone playing those drama apps while I ate lunch and Poor Rodrick and I talked. Poor Rodrick tried every now and again to bring Cadence into the conversation with a “What do you think honey? ” or “We just talked about that the other day, didnt we? ” This went over like a bucket of cold water. She would either not respond at all, or say something like, “You know I dont anything about that. ” And go right back to her phone. The look of defeat and embarrassment on Poor Rodricks face was nearly unbearable. The only other noteworthy event during this time was how Cadence liked to get attention from Poor Rodrick. See, while she was happy to ignore him and play her games, if she felt that HE wasnt paying attention to HER, she would become very upset. She was like a ticking time bomb, her fuse lit and burning down. She would glance over at him as he ate his lunch, watched videos on his phone or talking to other co-workers. Suddenly, she would explode at the table. Her whole body moved to cover his face with whatever game was on her phone. Cadence: “OoOoHHH! RoDrIcK! WhO ShOuLd wE KisS. ChAd or KeViN. ” Poor Rodrick: “Uuhhh, I dont know. Chad. ” Cadence: “UUUGHHHH. BuT RoDrIcK. wERe in LOoOoOovvvveee with KeViN. ” Fall 2018: The Breakup And then, IT HAPPENED. One night while I was mindlessly scrolling through Facebook I saw a post from Poor Rodrick. It read: “Dear close friends and family, I thank all of you for the support youve given Cadence and I over the years, but I have a sad announcement to make. Cadence and I are calling off our engagement. We have grown apart and we realize we can should no longer be together. We apologize for the negative impact this might have on any of you, but we hope we can all continue to love each other through this time and remain amiable in the future. Thank you. ” I felt a HUGE sense of relief for this man. I clicked into the comment section to see what people were saying. Most of the comments were people I didnt know (friends and family I assumed) wishing them well, saying they were sorry, etc. And Poor Rodrick was responding back, saying thank you, sending love, etc. etc. But then Cadence showed up. She COMMENTED ON THIS POST: “Haha, dont worry everyone, Rodrick is just mad right now. Well be back together, youll see; ” Poor Rodrick posted back. “No, this is real. The decision is final. You need to accept this. ” Cadence posted AGAIN: “No, weve done this before. Everything is fine, well get back together like we always do. ” My jaw dropped, I was watching this unfold, live, Cadence insisting that “Rodrick is being dramatic, ” “Rodrick will change his mind tomorrow. ” On and on. And then other people started chiming in. They posted, telling Cadence off. They said that she was a child. They told her that they knew she would be like this. That she needed to accept that Poor Rodrick was breaking up with her and get over it. She didnt last very long. I think she rage quit once she got dog-piled. It was glorious. The next day at work Poor Rodrick looked exhausted. I hesitantly breached the subject. Poor Rodrick told me that the night before he and Cadence had a huge fight, more serious than their typical arguments. During this fight, he finally snapped and broke things off. Apparently hed been losing feelings for a long time, but had been too afraid to go through with it, sticking around for various reasons. They had broken up in the past, but it had never stuck. This time he was going to make sure it was for good. As far as a Cadence was concerned, she was still convinced that they were together. In fact, she refused to believe that they were really broken up for about a month. In the immediate aftermath of the Facebook announcement Poor Rodrick did his best to cut as many strings attaching himself to Cadence as possible. He stopped going on breaks with her, he stopped taking his lunches with her and he changed his availability back to what it was. He split his finances from her and set money aside to pay for Ubers to get separate rides to work. Despite all this, Cadence still wouldnt accept that he was gone. She still came back to our department almost every day asking for him, not for breaks like before, but just because she “needed to talk to him. ” Poor Rodrick, of course, did not want to see her, and frankly, neither did anyone else in our department. Commence Operation: “Anne Frank. ” We hid him under counters, we hid him behind aisles, we smuggled him to the back behind heavy palettes of strategically stacked boxes. Anytime she came knocking, Poor Rodrick was conveniently missing. It was one of the only (and best) team building exercises wed ever done. Unfortunately, there was only so much we could do to help our friend. If you remember, the two of them had been living together now for about two months. They had both signed a year long lease and neither had to cash to buy their way out of it. They were stuck together. So no matter how many ways Poor Rodrick tried to avoid Cadence, at the end of the day, she would be waiting for him at the apartment. Spring 2019: The Abuse Victim The winter was rather uneventful, or if there was something major, I missed it. I mentally checked out a little, per newlywed life. The only thing that you need to know is that eventually, Cadence did accept that she had been dumped. She stopped by our department less and less, until one day she stopped bothering us all together. After the long, miserable season in an apartment colder and more bitter than the subzero temperatures outside, the new year came around, and with it a Poor Rodrick with a new lease on life. It had been decided: Cadences parents had given her the money to break the lease early! Poor Rodrick would be keeping the apartment, and she would soon be gone! But actually not too soon, it was still going to be a couple of weeks. Now with the finish line in sight, all Poor Rodrick had to do was wait it out and avoid any parting drama from Cadence. That is not what happened. Poor Rodrick made a fatal error during the final weeks of his time with Cadence: He started celebrating a little too early. Poor Rodrick told us one day that after all his heartache and pain with Cadence, and after months of self-reflection and soul searching, that he finally felt ready to put himself back out on the dating market! Hed downloaded a dating app and started swiping. This move, while a good sign that he was starting to heal and move on with his life, had the unintentional side effect of re-awakening Cadences bitchy wrath. Not only did she start going out of her way to bother Poor Rodrick at work and at home again in a way she hadnt since their break up, but suddenly she was now dating again as well and would loudly talk about the men she was chatting with online. All of this lead to Poor Rodrick and Cadence having more frequent arguments than they ever did while together. Until one day, it all came to a head. I was in the back at my locker when Cadence came into work. Cadence: “HE BIT ME. ” Me: “Excuse me? ” Cadence:“Rodrick BIT ME last night! Look! ” She pulled up a sleeve and showed me her arm. Sure enough, she had a bite mark on her forearm. It was right below her wrist and curled around from behind the back of her hand to under her palm. It was distinct, red and puffy. I was speechless for a second, processing what I was seeing. Me: “What happened? ” Cadence: “RODRICK BIT ME! ” Now I feel the need to add that Cadence wasnt saying this with any mortified, concerned or scared tone. In fact, she sounded downright excited. She was smiling, like shed one the freaking lottery, waving her arm around in front me, like it was a prize or something. I was majorly creeped out that she didnt seem to be taking this seriously. Me: “Okay. WHY did he bite you? What happened? ” Cadence, very flippantly: “Oh, well probably because I was on his back. ” Me: “ Why were you on his back? ” Cadence: Because he took my phone. ” Me: “Why did he take your phone, Cadence? Cadence: “I dont know, he just takes stuff away from me sometimes! Its annoying! He wouldnt give it back! ” Me: “So. he took your phone, and you tackled him. By jumping on his back. ” Cadence: “Yeah. And then he bit me! ” I I was beyond horrified and had about a dozen questions reeling around my brain. He took her phone and she tackled him? And he bit her? Was their go-to solutions for minor problems theft and physical assault. No, it was more like toddler problem-solving logic, but was this normal for them? And she was waving around her injury at work so blatantly and. happily. I made sure to ask her if the bite had broken her skin, if she had bled at all, and she said no. That was good, other than just waiting for it to heal naturally, there was nothing to be done about the mark. At this point, I did something very dangerous: I gave Cadence some advice. I told her that: She and Poor Rodrick had been living as roommates for some time now. They were no longer together or engaged, and their property had long been separated (Which she agreed with. Poor Rodrick, therefore, had no right to anything that classified as her personal belongings. If he took something that was hers and wouldnt give it back, it was theft. Under no circumstances should she ever try to initiate a physical attack on Poor Rodrick for her belongings. He is larger and stronger. She will not win. In fact, she will get hurt. Domestic abuse is not a joke. Theft is not a joke. Assault is not a joke. Her life is not joke. If she feels that her belongings are being kept away from her by force, if she feels that her well being is threatened or she believes anyone who she is living with is dangerous and will hurt her, she should immediately get out and call the police. And then I said goodbye, good luck, and ran like hell. I wanted to get Poor Rodricks side of the story. And I also wanted to warn him that I had just advised his insane Ex to CALL THE COPS on him if something like this happened again. This was serious. Poor Rodrick told me a very similar story about what happened. He had gotten annoyed with her, it was in regards to something she was doing on her phone, he took her phone (bad move, he agreed) she jumped onto his back trying to get her phone from him. Poor Rodrick explained that when Cadence jumped onto his back, she wasnt piggy-backing from his shoulders, she had both hands clasped together and was hanging from his throat. He legitimately couldnt breathe. He was trying to tell her he couldnt breathe, but couldnt get much out because of the immense pressure on his trachea. He honestly thought he was going to pass out, and bit her out of desperation. Thats when she let go. Now, during this whole story, I havent given much in the way of physical description of Poor Rodrick and Cadence, and that has been on purpose. For one, to keep the anonymity, but secondly, Im not here to make fun of anybodys looks, body shame, or any of that racket. But for this part of the story, I find it necessary to give two details: Poor Rodrick was significantly taller than Cadence, meaning that when she was hanging off of him, her feet were nowhere near the floor. Her whole body weight was pulling against his throat and closing off his airway. (Think Westley wrestling Fezzik in The Princess Bride) Cadence, while short, was not small. When Poor Rodrick said that she was hanging off his throat, and he couldnt breathe and couldnt lift her off, I 100% believed him. I gleaned a little more information from Poor Rodrick about his home-life up until that point. Turns out, physical violence wasnt that uncommon. He said that she was the one hitting/tackling/ wrestling him. He was so much larger and stronger than her, after all, that he could and should just take it. I thought that given the story I just heard, they were both acting like children, needed help, and should stay as far away from each other as possible. I warned him about what I told Cadence, and that he better watch his ass for a variety of reasons, not the least which being, what did he think was going to happen if the cops got called on a domestic abuse case and they showed up to a woman with a highly visible injury on her person? Cadences tone towards Poor Rodrick became very different in the days after our talk. She started cornering anyone who would listen and would go on long rants, now referring to herself as a “Victim of Domestic Violence” She claimed that Poor Rodrick was toxic and that she was a survivor. She bragged at work about how she would spend her time off, not in her apartment where she lived, but in our towns local Abused Womens Shelter. In my opinion, all the more power to her for removing herself from the situation. When I asked Poor Rodrick what he thought about it, he said that he honestly didnt mind, was in full support, in fact. Anytime at home with her not in the apartment was a plus. Cadence spent her last weeks with Poor Rodrick, and then, she was gone. She did keep her job at our store a little while after she moved out, but apparently got serious with one of the guys she had been talking to (dating. online. From what she described, a blind guy who lived in a town about two hours away. She quit her job with us and moved to that town to be with him. Spring 2019 Part 2: The Rebound As a result of Cadence leaving, Poor Rodrick found himself in an all-too common situation for young people- He could barely afford rent anymore. An apartment whose cost was meant to be afforded between two people was now saddled on him alone. And two things happened at the same time: Poor Rodrick said he was looking for a roommate for financial reasons. Poor Rodrick started talking about his dating life again, moving forward from the sort of false-start hed had a few weeks prior. He was now able to set up and go on dates free of Cadences meddling and drama. Now, call me a crazy conspiracy theorist, but I think that both of these factors played into what happened next: Poor Rodrick talks about a girl hes matched with, her name is Daisy. (Maybe like the second or third girl hes openly discussed at work since Cadence left. Theyre setting up their first date! Wow! Their date went so well! They have so much in common! Hes seeing her again soon! Wow, that second date went amazing! Cant believe how great she is! Everyone hes introduced her to says theyre so much alike and such a good couple! Geez, every time he sees her its like this instant connection! Theyve been seeing each other more and more, like every night. He thinks this might be for real, like she might be the one. -Great news! Daisys decided to move in with him! Isnt that great. Daisys all moved in now, and well, Poor Rodrick proposed! She said yes! From start to finish, this ordeal took all of a month, thats including the two or so other dates hed went on to start. I think that was just enough time for Poor Rodrick not to suffer too much of a loss on his rent bills. Now, Poor Rodrick and Cadence had been engaged a while, at least a year, with no wedding planning to speak of. Thats fine, Id just assumed that Poor Rodrick wasnt the type ready for marriage, at least not marriage with Cadence. So I was surprised when soon after, spurred by their love, Poor Rodrick and Daisy sent out wedding invitations. I wont post the YouTube video here (yes, it was a video, not a card) but I will describe it: It was a JibJab. Plain and simple. For those of you who dont know what a jibjab is, just imagine pictures of Poor Rodricks and Daisys faces slapped onto the bodies of dancers in various music videos. The most memorable snippet was Poor Rodricks unmoving face and distant eyes attached to Rick Astleys body, serenading Daisy with “Never Gonna Give You Up. ” Throughout the entire video was a block of text at the bottom advertising the details of the wedding. It would be held on a summer afternoon at a local park. I met Daisy exactly once prior to the wedding. she came shopping at our store for cloth material because she would be making her wedding dress. She seemed genuinely nice. Not much else to say, she was nerdy, quirky, not outwardly malicious or overly strange. To be fair, there have been weddings under stranger circumstances. I said a prayer that, despite the odds, despite the circumstances and all the red flags, that this would genuinely work out, for both their sakes. Summer 2019: The Wedding The day of the wedding came and I had decided to go. About an hour prior to the ceremony, I received a text from Poor Rodrick. There had been a venue change. The park they had originally planned to go to had a big town-funded event happening at it that day. Nobody, not the bride, groom, or anyone involved, had bothered to check this parks availability prior to that day. They had literally found out just then, when theyd shown up to decorate. They would instead be getting married at a different, smaller, park close by. I showed up about 15 minutes prior to the start of the ceremony. They had “set up” under the public pavilion. I say “set up” because the decorations consisted of about 6 bundles of balloons taped in the rafters and some plastic table cloths, enough for half of all the tables present. The picnic tables were arranged on either side of the pavilion, lengthwise, creating a aisle between them. I feel the need to point out that when I say the plastic table cloths covered half of the tables present, you might imagine them covering the sides equally, until they ran out. No, literally the left row of picnic tables was completely covered and the right row was completely bare. There was also a table placed at the end of the aisle ( I think it was meant to be a make-shift altar) with presents and a bright, oddly colored bouquet as the centerpiece. Daisy was there, along with some of her family members, having someone take pictures with an iPhone. Despite plenty of seating for the very few people present, there were one or two lawn chairs set up in the aisle anyway. I saw someone I knew from work (lets call her Sarah) in the back corner of the undecorated side of the pavilion. I sat with her and talked until the ceremony began. She was better friends with Poor Rodrick and Daisy then I and had apparently tried to help with planning the wedding. She filled me in on some bizarre details of the event. And from here on out, to keep this part somewhat brief, Im going to bullet point it out: Sarah had asked Daisy literally the day before if she had a bouquet. Daisy said no. Sarah asked if Daisy wanted one. Daisy said yes. Sarah and Daisy had spent a good couple hours the day before throwing together a quick bouquet. Daisy had picked the colors. However, literally minutes before, some of Daisys family members had come with a bundle of freshly-picked flowers from a field for Daisys bouquet. They werent trimmed or tied together or anything. So Daisy was walking around holding a bunch of flowers with a bunch of roots sticking out the bottom and the fake flowers theyd spent the day before putting together were now the centerpiece for the altar instead. Sarah had tried to get Daisy to change into her wedding dress at her house before they came to the park, but Daisy had insisted on changing in the public park bathroom after arriving instead. Sarah had done Daisys hair. Sarah is not a hair stylist. This went about as well as youd expect. Poor Rodrick wasnt there (ceremony was supposed to start in like 10 minutes) because he was picking up pizzas for afterwards. Later, after he did show up, and after he had changed from shorts and a tank top to a suit in the park restroom, Sarah had to convince him to put the tank top back on because his dress shirt was completely see-through and we could all see his chest. Daisys mother was the officiant at the wedding. Daisys mother was wearing all black, head to toe, black sunglasses, and a blue head-scarf. She looked like Yubaba from Spirited Away when she turns into that bird thing, all bundled up, in black, except add sunglasses and a head scarf. Reminding you, it was a hot summer day. Also, for the rest of the story I will refer to her as Yubaba. Poor Rodrick set up a tripod in the corner with a phone on it to record the ceremony. There was a speaker thrown up in the rafters for music. Someone had to remind Poor Rodrick that hed left the rings in his rides car before the ceremony The ceremony started about half an hour late. While everyone was getting ready, all except one of the balloon bundles had come loose and started blowing away. A few had popped on the grass. There was an attempt to re-tape the survivors, but it was windy and this idea was quickly abandoned. The ceremony started with Yubaba walking down the aisle, then Poor Rodrick walking down the aisle, then Daisy walking down the aisle. When Yubaba asked “Who gives this woman away? ” it wasnt to anyone specifically, since Daisy had walked herself down the aisle. This was stated as a legitimate question posed to the audience. We all sat in silence for a good 10 seconds until Daisy pointed to some guy (I assume family) and was all, “Thats you! ” He looked completely baffled. He got up at Yubabas coaxing, “Come stand up here! ” and was instructed to take Daisys outstretched hand and place it in Rodricks hand, about 3 inches away. After which he was told to sit back down. Yubaba read the wrong verses from her bible to start. She started reading the wrong verse, got a full paragraph in, stopped, said, “Oh, thats not right, ” licked her fingers, then very slowly flipped the pages back. She eventually found the right verse, and then started again as if nothing had happened. We all sat in silence and just watched. Yubaba “anointed” Poor Rodrick and Daisy with oil. And by anointed I mean straight dumped a whole bottle of the stuff between their hair, shoulders and the ground. There was no planned ring-bearer. Poor Rodrick chose a nearby 12 year-old family member, whos suit jacket was at least 3 sizes too big for him by the way, poor kid, and just said, “You want to be ring bearer? Here. Stand there. There you go. ” And this kid stood for the duration of the ceremony right next to Poor Rodrick, with one ring in each hand, arms outstretched, palms up, elbows bent, in this weird shrugging position, but almost looking reverent, like the rings were holy. But nobody told him to stop, or let him know he had the option to just hold them, like a normal human being, so he did this until they were taken. At the end they smashed a glass bottle. Poor Rodrick smashed it on the ground with his foot. Yubaba said this was meant to symbolize smashing the old and starting new beginnings, but I thought breaking the glass was a Jewish thing. Idk, correct me if Im wrong I guess. I left the small gift I got gotten them on a table and immediately left after the ceremony. Id seen enough. Epilogue: Id like to say this is the end of this long, ridiculous story. It is definitely is for the wedding shame part of it. But there was an aftermath some might interested in. Poor Rodrick and Daisys marriage lasted two months. They separated a long time ago and as of posting this I dont know if theyve officially completed the divorce process. Poor Rodricks Facebook feed is a complete train wreck. He moves between girlfriends faster than any person Ive ever seen. Im talking some “relationships” that last two days. Hell post lots of photos of him sucking face with some girl, change his profile picture, change his status, post lots of shit about how great she is, and then after a week change his profile picture back to just him and change his status back to single. Wash, rinse, repeat. And nothing gets deleted, so scrolling back through his timeline even two weeks is like visiting a graveyard of past relationships, plus a wedding in there somewhere. Cadence eventually moved towns again and her Facebook claims shes single. I can only assume it didnt work out with whomever she was chasing. Poor Rodrick eventually left the store himself. Im not sure where he is anymore. TL;DR: Teenager with shitty fiancé finally works up nerve to break up with her. Meets, moves in with, and gets engaged to another chick within a month. Has trashy wedding. Gets divorced after two months. Edit: Thank you everyone for your kindness in the comments! I got a silver, thank you kind stranger! This is my first and only reddit post, so Im unsure of a lot of the etiquette around here. Im just glad people liked it, and yeah, like I said, its LONG. But I tried to make it worth the read.

Okay the title was completely BBS where is the romantic teen movies 😠😠. One of my top 5 favorite actors. The kindness of strangers movie. The kindness of strangers streetcar named desire. When does this drop. The kindness of strangers lyrics. Love Rose Byrne. Her cover of the classical song !Ring around the Rosie is a masterpiece. The Kindness of stranger in a strange. The Kindness of strange stuff. The Kindness of strangers on a train.

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