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Tag: After Midnight

Posts I’ve made, well, after midnight.

  • NATIONAL DREAM DAY

    Check your calendars — it’s National Dream Day! I had no clue such an event existed before today. It’s inception was designed for us to remember and realize that we can go after any dream we set our minds to, big or small, no matter what.

    As a professional dreamer, I can endorse this type of day wholeheartedly! It sticks out to me for another reason, as well: a series of mine centering around dreams, both literal and metaphorical, has always been written to have started on or around this time of March. Specifically March 12, but I wonder if I should change it to March 11!

  • A TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE

    I had a reclamation of self today. Upon unearthing my old YouTube channel, now I know tangibly who I used to be. There is definitive evidence of my being, of my interests, of my dreams. I quite enjoyed knowing that there are still pieces of me that exist out there, things that have been untouched by time :)

  • THE OPPOSITE OF EVERYTHING

    If I tell people what I mean at face-value, they seem to struggle with comprehending it. “I’m not a fan of this idea.” That seems to mean I am. “I’m not cold.” That seems to mean I am. “I don’t like this.” Well, I guess that means I do.

    What is this phenomenon, where people seem unable to hear exactly what you say? What causes this inability? I’ve dashed away the idea that I will find someone who understands that I mean exactly what I say. Now I simply wish to be alone, that way I don’t have the intrusive decisions of others impede on me any longer. I’m sick of hearing everyone’s thoughts, where they think they know me better than I know me. Are you living in my skin? Are you thinking with my head? I do not think so. So what gives them the impression that they should be so sure? I still have yet to encounter anyone who was correct in their assumption that they know me very well. Perhaps we should realize that people everywhere are complex, and it’s presumptious to assume we can understand them at a glance?

    Even worse is that these aren’t things being done out of control or malice; it comes from a well-intentioned place, and that’s why it frustrates me more. Even my own mother does it. Granted, most of the time she thinks I’m being self-sacrificial, but I’ve never before had a period of time where I felt unheard even by her before now. It seems like everyone has an idea in mind for what will help me, and it’s only after the fact that they relent and realize I was right. It would be helpful to hear me sooner. What good will your hindsight give me? Irritation?

    What gives? Why will no one believe me? I don’t lie frivolously, so it’s not like I’ve built up the reputation. Do I sound hesitant? Unsure? Is a simple, “Yes,” or “No,” not sufficient anymore? I can say exactly what I want and no one will believe me; not even my own mother anymore. Before she’d be correct in looking past my indecisions. Not so much anymore.

    I haven’t done anything reckless. My family and adults in my life applaud me for it. I carefully measure and weigh each decision before I make it. So why is everyone living in some unfounded fear that I’m going to “do wrong”? Is life not about experiences? How do you expect me to learn or evaluate anything if you want me to never do anything? And if you’re so sure your decision for me is correct, then why does it always work out bad for me? All it’s done is turn me off to the idea that I should take advice from others. No one knows what they’re talking about, but are so eager to feel like they’re helpful that they can’t help but put their two cents in your hand. I don’t need anymore spare change. All anyone over me ever does is get me in trouble pushing their ideas onto me; then, when I need help getting out of the mess they pushed on me, everyone wants to whistle and look at the ceiling. So help and people and ideas are equally useless. No one has anything good to offer, so I don’t go looking for anyone anymore. Then I get to feel like a fool for allowing anyone to “extend a hand” again. You can help in other ways, but I don’t need people interfering with me unwanted anymore.

    I don’t feel lost. I feel sure. I know what I want, I know how to get there, and I know what’s best for me. And so far, every time I give someone the chance to see if they understand what I need, they fail me. So I can’t wait to be on my own to exercise the freedom I need. Why do I have to put up with people telling me what I should say or do or think or feel or act or believe? Why am I treated like I am uncapavle of independent thought? Must you breathe for me as well?

    And it even extends to rare moments where I would seek out help in another. Heaven forbid I feel ill or stressed or exceedingly sad; I’m not haggard-looking enough on the outside, so therefore it must not be true. So I don’t go to doctors, who will not believe me when I say I am sick. I will not turn to lovers, who try to convince me that I should be interested in sex. I do not bother discussing if I feel dreary, because what is there to say if it will just be said for me? If you say I’m happy, then I am, and I will always be.

    I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m murdered one day and it be deemed as a suicide. Despite having said that I would never kill myself, my word would never be good enough for anyone else; they always assume they know you better than yourself. It’s only right that even in death I’d be treated the same way.

  • UNDER CONSTRUCTION

    I’m sure my modest audience of one was wondering where I’d gone. Never fear! I’d taken a short break to get my website together. I’d grown a little unenthused at the previous theme and wanted something newer. Something that I could build myself. And I was!

    …Until my laptop broke. Oh my poor dear. Technically it’s not entirely broken; one of the fans has started to fail, but the part is on backorder for three weeks, and since I can’t do much in terms of heavy lifting for it now, I’m pretty much stuck using my tablet. It’s great for convenience’s sake, but there’s only so much you can do on a touchscreen. It’s a real inconvenience for my class since I’m taking my semester online! Geez!

    Anyway, I’ll be back as soon as I can, hopefully with something that works. In the meantime, I’ve figured out that perhaps this is a sign from God to take a rest for my arms. They’ve been giving me terrible issues lately; there were quite a few times this week where I couldn’t use them at all. That’s a bit of a problem when you’re a writer who requires ambidextrous control of both limbs! Oh well. Maybe by the time I’m due my computer back, maybe my arms will be feeling better, and a little less numb. The set-up I’m using isn’t the best for recovery, though- pretty much making it worse, in fact, since it’s causing me to compress my elbows even more- but maybe that’ll be repaired in time, too. Here’s hoping. I’ll be back with better news! Adieu.

  • I SHOULD START SELLING MY BELONGINGS

    Over the years I’ve built up quite a collection of things. I’m not even sure when it happened, too. Usually I pack pretty light, as I prefer, and I’m not really a fan of having so much stuff. But now I’ve almost clambered down to the bare essentials, and I still can’t let anything go!

    So I’m probably going to start selling stuff. I have a lot of things I could get rid of since I have use for them no longer. It would earn me a pretty penny, too. I think that’s my main motivator. I just want the cash.

    It’s not even like a clutter. All of my things are stuffed in a closet, looking comparatively cluttered since our house is so small. It would allow me to move freely, too, if I only had to go with some fun things and a suitcase full of clothes.

    Guess I should start packing, huh?

  • WHAT A WONDERFUL WORLD

    Sometimes I want to be an author in a secluded cabin somewhere, where I can write my little stories and make a modest means without ever having to leave, never having to interact with anyone outside my four walls. 

    And other times I stop to admire the beauty of nature when I’m walking, how flitting bumblebees move from flower to flower, how groups of people laugh at brunch, how children scream in delight running on playgrounds, or how I have a pleasant conversation with the grocer at the store, and then I remember that I do love life and the people around it, and it is a wonderful world.

  • SPOT THE DIFFERENCE (I CAN)

    You know what I really, really, really adore? Spot-the-difference games. I can’t quite remember how good I was at “I Spy” since it’s been a few years since I’ve played that, but I’ve been killing these recent influx of indie horror games that require a keen eye for survival.

    Case in point: I’m On Observation Duty. I swear I’m obsessed with that game. Specifically the fourth one, since that’s when the developers found their mojo. The fifth one is basically a more advanced rendition of that, and I haven’t played the sixth game, but I’m pretty certain it’s just like the other two.

    Anyway, I’m incredible at those games, and that’s not a brag I can say lightly. Despite having…okayish hand-eye coordination thanks to having been drawing eighteen out of my twenty-one years alive (wow, when you put it that way…), I suck utter blowhole at video games. I just don’t have the independent usage of my hands in order to thrive at them. I have to use my hands together- you know, typing, etc…I can’t use my hands unless they’re doing the same task, or at least similar enough to trick my brain into thinking they are.

    So, I’m not super good at using WASD, and I really should switch over to using EASD, since the keys are closer, but then I can’t reach the shift button or anything…Anyway, you catch my drift. I usually blow at regular video games, which is why I’m finally in good ground when I have a game that requires none of that. That’s right, we’re taking hands out of the equation and focusing solely on the eyes.

    They don’t call me “Sly Eye Simone” for nothing…actually, they call me “Quicksilver Simone,” but I’m sure someone somewhere out there has noticed my penchant for observation.

    I’ve always had a natural inclination and thrill for noticing details. You couldn’t slip this shit past the FBI if you tried, which is why I sometimes still debate whether or not I should go work for them before I turn 35. I’ve solved enough party murder mysteries to be a candidate in the running.

    But I digress. Back to the video games. Anyway, after I played about twenty hours total of all the Observation Duty games (which, I know isn’t a lot, but gaming tends to fall to the wayside when I don’t have the time, and as a busy uni student, I tend to not have much of it), I started itching for more. Not that I was bored of it, or anything, but there aren’t too many games out there like it, even if there have been a recent influx of anomaly-based spot-the-difference games, like Alternate Watch or Caught on Camera. (And, while I was in the middle of writing this post, I actually ended up coming across another one called Anomaly Exit, which is similar in style to Exit 8, which actually had another game called Platform 8…maybe I’m just not looking in the right place, ironically…)

    Which leads me back to my latest obsession: That’s Not My Neighbor. Or That’s not my Neighbor, if you want to stylize it the way it’s written. I know I’m a few months late to the party, but it’s the thought that counts, not the price tag on the gift. Either way, this is exactly my cup of tea, and I’ll down it boiling hot if I have to. If there’s two things I love, it’s job simulator games and anomalies. And oh boy, do I love me some anomalies.

    This is exactly the kind of affordable entertainment I’ve already spent like four hours on, and I just bought the game two days ago. I think I’m a little too good at it, though. Other than the back-to-back Nightmare runs I made of the game (which really do require more trial and error), I have yet to get anything lower than an S ranking for the game, or even be killed by a doppelganger. Does that make it any less fun? Hell no! I never get the opportunity to say I can crush a game with ease!

    Of course, now that I’m outwardly bragging to the world that I’m good at it, that means I’m going to blow hard on it later, but I feel like I’ve earned my bragging rights. And it’s not like the game still isn’t challenging. You start doubting your judgements, start wondering if you’ve overlooked anything…It’s still no walk in the park! I’ve just developed a sort of confidence from it.

    Matter of fact, maybe I should go play some right now…it is summer break, after all.

    (And on the topic of this game, it first came on my radar after seeing it pop up on my Twitter timeline. Not the game itself, though, but the Milkman. Yes, the one who’s got several pairs of panties wet because he looks like an Americanized Sangwoo knock-off.

    Funny enough, I actually came across him several months before I even knew what this game was. YouTube decided to autoplay a short, and it was some FlipaClip-tier animation meme featuring his many forms. I had no clue who he was and was mostly annoyed that YouTube put it on my screen, so I paid it no mind until someone pointed out that THIS was the guy everyone was going crazy over for that brief period of time.)

    (I’m not saying I approve of it, but I understand.)

    (Edit: Holy fuck, I found a treasure trove of these things! I take back what I said- I’m as blind as a bat! I just wasn’t looking right at all!)

  • FIRST CONTEST (IT ENDS TONIGHT)

    The most exciting part about finishing any project is submitting it to contests. Yay!

    Last semester, I wrote a screenplay for my screenwriting class. I’ve mentioned it here before, I think on a few posts prior to this one, but I said I was going to submit it to a contest this year, now that I actually have a finished work to enter into something.

    And enter it I did! I sent it in earlier tonight, right before I went to an indie film screening for an hour (because I’ve been dying to have some new experiences, you heard?). I’d been reworking it a bit for the past couple of days, but I couldn’t really get into the zone, you know? After I printed it out and marked it up the old fashioned way, I was having a really hard time getting my brain to focus in the flow. I was trying to force it, it wasn’t working, so I stepped back for a few days until I felt like I felt it come back to me.

    I really wanted to submit it on the twelfth (aka yesterday), so I was delighted that I woke up out of whatever funk I’d been in the past week or so with the enthusiasm to write. Man, it felt good! I felt like my mind finally clicked into place. Maybe that’s what that feeling was- it was the imminent end of my miserable mood!

    I won’t know for a while whether I progress in the competition or not, but who cares! I’m just glad to have submitted it at all!

  • MY ACHING HEART

    I’ve been in a romantical mood as of late. I’m not quite sure where it came from, or why it came on so strongly, but it’s there and threatening to beat all my walls down.

    I think it started the other day, when my roommates and I somehow got on the topic of wedding rings, and suddenly we’re all scrolling through our phones and showing each other engagement rings we find pretty. I later kept that tab open to fantasize about it a little longer.

    Or maybe it’s the sudden uptick of couples on campus. I see people paired off in sets of two everywhere I go. I think it’s the spring weather. A lot of the time, I’ve come to find, that contributes to instances of a relationship. Holding hands. Leaning in close. Giggling and laughter. Even most of my friends have paired off.

    I’ve felt increasingly lonely lately. Usually I’m content with being alone, mostly because I’m used to it, but there’s been a disturbance in me recently that I can’t quite put my finger on.

    I think it’s because lately I’ve been in a lot of situations where having someone there for moral support would make all the difference. It’s not the same when my mom is 1000 miles away, and because I’ve shirked back from most of my regular interactions, I feel like I don’t deserve to burden my friends. I just wish I had real life reassurance, the kind I can see in your eyes.

    It doesn’t help that the vast majority of my social interactions, as of late, have taken place behind a screen, where I try to fill the void of shallow acquaintances with even shallower substitutes. Worse yet, it’s so nonspecific, yet all-consuming, that it won’t go away.

    I thought I’d be able to rid of the feeling as I normally do, and push past it back to contentedness, but I’d be lying if I said the feeling wasn’t different this time. I haven’t really felt this way since 2019, where I’d be wondering after school to myself if this were all life was going to be for me. And now it’s come back to greet me like a boulder before a landslide.

    Maybe it’s also because nothing seems to be going right lately. Between every mounting obstacle and blow to my self-esteem, I’ve gotten to the point where ignoring that problem feels like willing, blissful ignorance. I know I’ve made jokes about this before, especially most recently in my last blog post, but I oftentimes thrive on the delusions I can conjure up in my mind. I love seeking solace in the one place things will go alright for me. It takes the edge off of a long day, like the way an alcoholic will seek comfort from the bottom of a glass, or a chain smoker to a pack of cigarettes.

    I’m never in any circumstances talking about my online friends when I say this, but I really don’t have any meaningful relationships in my waking life. All of my dearest companions are people I’ve never physically met before, but it’s a genuine friendship, tried and true; people I’ve grown up with for years. I love them all so much, so dearly, and my only complaint is I wish I had the joy of seeing them everyday in person. People who I enjoy being around, and who equally enjoy me, not just for the sake of convenience.

    Many people have echoed my sentiments, just as many will after me, but I struggle with making meaningful friends. Perhaps it’s because I’ve highlighted myself as a “social floater”- I get along with everyone, so there was never a real need to box myself in with one specific group or ideology, because I could come and go as I please.  I make people feel good about themselves. And I like making people feel good about themselves. It’s what I do best. And because of the convenience I provide as an easy friendship- a listening ear in times of distress, a shoulder to cry on, an unjudgmental stare- there is no need to reciprocate such actions with me, because I will most likely never open up in the first place, not unless prompted, for fear of sounding self-centered, and that’s exactly how you end up with friendships where you are seen as dependable and reliable, without really being all there.

    When I was younger, I had problems with opening up to people because I struggled to connect with age-appropriate problems plaguing my peers. The pendulum of emotional maturity swings both ways, and that was one of its downsides. And it doesn’t help that I often times naturally shoe-boxed myself into being the support friend- a position I don’t mind with regular people, but sometimes I’d always be paired up with someone who could never stop talking about how awful their life was, how bad they felt, and the usual draining motifs these archetypes of people bring with themselves, etc. I attract exhausting people, sometimes, because I’d feel bad for them being shunned.

    But let it not be thought that I’m blaming anyone else for my problems, no. I’d always figured this was a no-fault situation, something that can’t be helped from either side. I can’t fault my peers for not relating to me, the same way it’d be unfair for it vice-versa. Everyone is at different places in their lives, and at no point does being in similar age groups guarantee you will be in similar situations. Everyone moves at a different pace, and everyone will be in a different place.

    As you can see, that feeling hasn’t been anything new. I think I just did better at stuffing it down last time. And, truthfully, I was happy being alone, but I think this is the first time I’ve ever felt dreadfully lonely. I’ve always been able to keep my own company, but I think what I truly long for is companionship and understanding. I’ve often feared that I’m far too boyish in personality for any man to be attracted to me on anything other than a superficial level, because I have yet to have that experience happen romantically. My friends love me, and I love my friends, and they always tell me how great I am, and really it’s my own fault that I feel disconnected from them; it’s on me. But when it comes to romance, I think I will be less likely to succeed.

    I used to primarily crave for a best friend, for a deep understanding and loyal companionship that runs deeper than just sexual attraction, but is endearing and enduring love, but I’ve found myself changing gears slightly. I’d really love to feel love, and to be in love, and to know what it’s like to be desired. Alas, I’ve yet to have that feeling, because I’ve never had anyone like me for who I am.

    Which is a darn shame too, because I think I would make a lovely partner. I’ve had guys attracted to me before, but it’s only on days where I advertise myself as ideal with the way I dress, because men are visual creatures, after all, and they oftentimes can’t see past what I wear before realizing that, huh, she’s kind of attractive after all. I would love to know what it feels like to be loved for who you are. I’ve never had a guy like me. Even among the guys I’ve dated. Physical attraction is not the same as appreciation of character.

    So, just like every other person my age, oftentimes I’ve fantasized what that must feel like. I’m glad I have a point of reference in the forms of other people, but I still long to know what it feels like romantically. To have someone who loves you, every part of you, and want to spend the rest of their days with you. A man compassionate, kind, and just as enthusiastic as me. I’ve curled around my heart-shaped pillow every night just to dream about it and ponder what it’s like. For several days I’ve listened to nothing but romance songs. I’ve even started reading my horoscope to see if I’d be lucky in love.

    Maybe I should get to bed before the thought consumes me again. It’s already been on my mind for several days at a time, so I’d be lying to myself if I expected it to go away, but at least it’s one of those subjects I can fill the void with in fantasy and dreams to not feel so bad about everything else.

    But beyond that, I think what I desire most are meaningful relationships. This post may convey the idea that I struggle with talking to people, but not at all. For the longest time, I was under the impression that I was an extrovert simply because socializing came naturally for me. I love people, I really do, and I love listening to them and hearing what they have to say and where they come from. I love their little quirks and fashion choices and finding out what they think about their hair. I love finding out what we have in common and where we differ, and the challenge of finding the perfect way to socialize with the other party is highly appealing to me.

    But lately it feels like I’ve lost my edge. I’ve become so isolated that I almost feel like I’ve forgotten how to talk with people, in a way. And lately, it’s not enough to simply get along with them. That part comes easy. What I’m looking for is satisfaction.

    I love interacting with strangers because I can have a fulfilling social interaction without the expectation of a deeper relationship; both of us enter and exit the conversation with the knowledge that we will not leave as friends.

    But my regular interactions, with the familiar faces I see every day, those are the ones that bother me. They consist of someone who I dread talking to, who I try to avoid, often times because they have no listening skills, or are prone to interrupting, or simply are hard to carry a conversation with. About 90% of my day-to-day social interactions consist of some form of this, where it lacks all the things that send me further into a depressive spiral. And when my options consist of talking to someone who will take effort for an unfulfilling interaction, or not talking at all, then why wouldn’t I choose the latter? Talking is the easy part. Understanding is what I’m looking for. I do wish I had someone to care, and someone who wants me, genuinely, around.

    And the irony is that I do have someone like that. My mom, of course. I love her so much, you wouldn’t believe, and I think that’s because her mere presence has spoiled me into knowing what a healthy conversation should be. We listen, we contribute, we care. And now everything else after that feels so bland, so surface-level and unfulfilling. It’s not interactions I’m looking for, it’s meaningful interactions. And it’s more noticeable still that, when I look back on my life and my catalogue of friends, I have never gotten to experience that with a peer for more than a brief moment. That kind of lifestyle just isn’t sustainable. And now it’s starting to take its toll.

    Between all my decisions falling apart at the seams, and a lack of joyous hobbies to take part in lately, my heart is a little heavy. I’ll distract myself with something for just long enough that the weight of reality comes crashing back down into me twice as hard. There’s no distraction in my hobbies lately, since I have trouble connecting with that. It’s why I came to write here, where I have a vague semblance of cohesively expressing how I feel with the understanding that I don’t have to worry about someone caring- I can yell into the void of the world wide web as much as I want, and it mostly all flies under the radar. Even reading and going outside just make me feel foggy. It’s like this issue is weighing on me so heavily that there is really little else that can take my mind off of it, because I only end up feeling worse once I remember where I am in life. 21-years-old and a socially unfortunate loser. The thought of it almost makes me want to take up drinking.

    Even worse, physically it’s started to take its toll on me. Loneliness can kill you, you know. I can already feel it squeeze my heart in my chest, feel it turn my stomach. It could send me to an early grave. And worse yet, there’d be nothing I can do about it. I’ll just be a victim of circumstance.

    But I think it’s fine that it’s happened like that. Everyone needs something to struggle with, and this one will be mine. I’m glad my heart doesn’t fill with envy when I see groups of friends or people in love strolling by, because I would love to experience the thrill of belonging just for one time, one day.

  • MOVIE DISCUSSION: HEREDITARY (2018)

    So, I’ve decided to ditch my usual movie post intro that includes the movie details, my rating, blah blah blah…I found that I get so lazy to go back and copy it from my older drafts that I’ve been putting off writing these posts! (I still got an entire unpublished review of ‘X’ to get up here…)

    It’s crazy, too, because I was originally going to do this whole structured post with highlighted sections, and scene discussions, and images, but then I was like, “Huh…I don’t think the structured life is for me.” This isn’t my job, this blog is for FUN! (Although I still might do the screenshots…)

    Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, so I finally got around to watching Hereditary (2018) tonight. I didn’t really play on watching it, but since I’d have my hands in my hair for the foreseeable next few hours, I figured I’d pop something in that I had collecting dust on my watchlist forever.

    Thus, Hereditary was chosen! It was my first thought, actually. I don’t know why, but I’ve been in the mood to get scared lately. It was an urge enough that made me bust out my Steam catalogue and consider booting up Outlast (not that I actually did; I ended up playing The Stanley Parable and an actual horror indie title), but it’s an itch I’ve been looking to scratch lately. And I’ve heard many-a-great thing about Hereditary: it’s distressing, it’s unnerving, it’s disturbing- – and ah, sounds just perfect for me!

    So I sat down in my dorm’s living room at ten at night, turned my headphones up real (tolerably) loud, and settled in the dark for the perfect horror movie watching atmosphere, nothing less than what such a glorious film deserves.

    And you know: it actually was! I was really worried my expectations would’ve made me overhyped and disappointed in the final product, but I think it ended up working because the film summary is drastically different than what you get.

    Actually, that’s really- and only- my one complaint with the film: I actually expected the revelation with the grandmother and her occult status to be something that gradually unfolds throughout the film. It comes up for 20-30 minutes at the start of the film, and 30 minutes at the end. The inside of the movie, all that middle part, is just blank. Other than Joan, the lady Annie meets at the grief counseling group session, you don’t really hear much of anything involving the mystery until the very end, which strangely works for this film. But I think some of that middle run-time should’ve been used on exploring something!

    It was also weird that I felt distressed from this film in a third-person perspective sort of way. Honestly, I think Hereditary confirmed my fear that I’ve been desensitized to horror as a whole, which is a little sad, but the appreciation of it is still there.

    There’s a lot of admiration for the story and the dedication it had to distressing the hell out of the audience. I love that it tried to make every aspect of this film as disturbing as possible. Everything from the tongue clicking, to the sleepwalking sequences, to the actual gory deaths. Props on the team, I loved it! I made me wish I could still feel scared to really appreciate it!

    Plus, it gives a lot of time for that feeling to build, too. Hereditary is slow-burn central, so I would not recommend this for anyone who wants everything to happen now! Often I would accidentally move my mouse and be surprised that there was still so much runtime left to the film, but I’ll leave you to figure out whether that’s good or bad.

    It was also lots of fun to dissect this movie as it was playing out in real-time. I think I responded positively to the subconscious foreshadowing at the start of the film, because I guessed pretty early on that the son or the mother were probably gonna be the last ones standing (specifically the son, since you can’t pass on a bloodline if all the fucking kids die!).

    Speaking of kids dying, I was actually SO surprised the daughter died so early on? Legitimately don’t know what I was expecting there, LOL. I’d heard about the film lifting the real life death involving those two friends, but never really knew the context behind it, or even when it would happen. I’d known about the case already, so I didn’t get the same impact first-time audience members would’ve had watching this film, darn.

    The scene leading up to it was interesting, though. Charlie wearing that dingy ass orange hoodie everywhere was hilarious, I know it probably smelled awful. The weed pick-up line Peter used on that girl had me cringing in shame in my seat, even more so when it worked.

    And Peter (who didn’t look like his name should be Peter), surprisingly, wasn’t as much of a dick as he could’ve been to her. I thought it was quite sweet that he carried Charlie to the car as she was having that allergic reaction.

    Speaking of which…why the fuck didn’t the parents have her carry that Epi-pen around?? Isn’t that the point of the pen?! Don’t keep it locked in a dresser at home! It’s not for decoration! That accident in the car could’ve all been avoided if you guys gave her a little purse or something, I don’t know.

    And I felt really bad for Peter, because the moment that accident happened I knew we were gonna have some Michael Afton levels of coping, especially once that dinner table scene arrived.

    Honestly, the moment the forks and knives started scrapping against the plates, I knew it’d be some tension incoming. And tense it was. You could tell Annie was going to pop off from a mile away, especially after that scoff, and holy shit, did she! She made it clear that she hated her son for the way he didn’t take any responsibility or apologize for the way he way he ended up killing Charlie…which is a little rich from her, because earlier she tried to excuse herself from nearly setting her kids on fire because she was sleepwalking. Looks like it runs in the family, right?

    Speaking of which, all the occult stuff was…something else! My initial thought, when Charlie said her grandma wanted her to be a boy, made me think that she wanted Charlie to be a boy so the curse didn’t get passed down…but that’s back when I thought granny was a victim, not a perpetrator! Honestly, I think that’s why the cult shit took me so off-guard: with the way the summary framed it, it sounded like the grandmother was trying to get away from it! Or maybe that was just my little pea brain filling in the gaps…

    I also started thinking that the “curse” picked off loved ones surrounding the person until it moved down in the host line. We saw at the beginning there was the obituary (which, was a pretty dope way to open a film. May have to steal that at some time), and again when Annie was describing the deaths of her father and brother. It legitimately made me think whatever demon it was that followed them hated Y chromosomes with a passion and picked them off steadily until the next lady in the family got passed the curse baton. Needless to say, I was off the fuckin’ mark!

    Say it with me, everyone: STOP MESSING WITH SPIRITS AND SHIT. I felt UBER bad for the dad and Peter after Annie woke them up that night to do that séance shit. Which is insane because, not even a scene ago, you were freaking the hell out too! And now you got your husband and son doing it?? Had ole boy sobbing into his dad’s chest like a child. And understandably so! Inviting all kinds of spirits and shit into this household…now everyone’s dead! Are you happy yet?!

    Joan as a whole was interesting. Once they mentioned the doormats I guessed pretty quickly that she knew the mom. Her introduction was hilarious, though. I feel bad for laughing when she said point-blank, “My son died.” Like WOWIE woman! And now I’m wondering if Joan made that thing about her son and grandson the hell up?! She probably did. I’m gonna have to go back and rewatch the counseling scene to see if she’s there.

    Another thing: how the hell did they mispronounce the name of Paimon? Where the fuck did the ‘y’ come from, anyway? Admittedly, I only knew the correct pronunciation thanks to its inclusion in Amanda the Adventurer, but you think someone on set would’ve like, I don’t know, gone to search it up to make sure they’re doing things right? Although I understand it, to some degree. You do or say something for so long that you don’t even doubt it’s the right way…

    I do love the sleepwalking scene, though. Especially with the double inversion of it being a dream. That was pretty fucked that she told her kid she didn’t want him- for that, I was exponentially more thankful it was a dream! And the fact that they were suddenly covered in paint thinner at the end made it SO much cooler (er, warmer, if someone happens to strike a match).

    Speaking of burning, I love how the dad was just…there. Honestly, before he got blazed to the high heavens himself, I felt really bad for the chap, because he didn’t really play a super huge role in the film. Which, it’s understandable. This is about the maternal side of the family and her offspring, but buddy was really just paper on the wall.

    I also kept forgetting they had a dog?? He just kind of popped in here and there that he was gone for juuuuust long enough to make me forget he existed, LOL.

    And then there’s Peter. I was actually surprised he got as much screen time as he did! He was someone else I felt really bad for. You know no amount of therapy in the world would ever get him right even if he did survive. And you know his behavior after his sister’s crash probably got him outcast to hell, as evidenced by him sitting alone at lunch before Crazy Joan starts yelling at him from across the road.

    Honestly, after that outburst he had in class, it’s probably for the best his body got hijacked by Paimon or whatever the fuck. The contortions and the bones cracking like that, by the way? Sick as hell. I loved that scene. After the first head bang, though, kid’s reputation was in the trash. I felt really bad for him once he started screaming and crying, though. You know he was scared shitless over what was happening, and worse yet, there’s really nothing more he could’ve done.

    And then it just gets worse for him. He basically becomes the last guy standing after a full movie of being traumatized by inadvertently causing his sister’s death and then figuring out a demon’s after his family. I felt super bad for him once he started crying in the attic for his mom. I didn’t blame him at all for taking a running-dive out that window.

    I love how the film started and ended on a diorama, from Peter’s bedroom to the shot in the treehouse. It also had no business ending with that cheery ass music lol.

    Now, as far as the overall movie goes, I liked it! Movie got exponentially more fucked as it continued, which I liked. The cinematography and lighting were really cool, made me take nothing but screenshots throughout the course of the film. I might even litter some of them throughout this post, just to break up the monotony of words a bit. (Plus, I mean, they were pretty cool. Who doesn’t want to see cool frames?)

    Even the soundtrack was a treat, but the constant “house party” beat for that specific one left me so fucking confused. I live on a college campus; I thought my neighbors were having a part or some shit, LOL.

    God also bless my school for giving us Kanopy for free, which basically has A24’s entire catalogue, so I’ll be checking some of their other stuff out, just because I can.

    Honestly, I can definitely see this being one of those films that I start to like the more it settles in LOL. And really, I did really enjoy it! I was worried my own critical nature and over-expectations were going to get in the way of the film, but I really, really enjoyed it. I think, after a few hours of letting it sit, it’s really sinking in now.

    And, like, did you hear? Apparently A24 plans on bringing this and some of their other films back to theaters soon which, eek! I HAVE to watch this on the big screen! I would kill for that. I bet the experience is unlike any other! Here’s hoping it releases to a theater near me when they do their campaign!

    Also, have you ever seen a film where two of the lead actors have the same birthday? Apparently I get the bragging rights of sharing a birthday with Alex Wolff AND Toni Collette. Top that!

    Okay, well, that’s it for today! Without a doubt, I definitely loved and appreciated this film a lot. We’ll see if it becomes a favorite— I think on a rewatch, it maybe will- but for now, I truly enjoyed what Hereditary had to offer! I’m definitely going to analyze the shit out of this and read the script for LOL.

    If you want some of my raw reactions, I have a Twitter thread for it, as I always do.

    I wish I hadn’t forced myself to not give commentary for the first 40 minutes of the film! I’m a chatterbox at heart.

    I’ll most likely come back to trim this down, shift some things around, and add a few more notes tomorrow morning. Until then, bye bye! Onto some more movies to watch, and drafts to post!