Souls cannot be fooled*

So I haven't written here in quite a while. Long story short, since the last time I blogged I had gotten pretty sick, and well, I'm still recovering. Nevertheless, I wanted to get back to blogging. I had seen The Way, Way Back yesterday and I figured that would make a good subject for my next post.

I was first introduced to Jim Rash as the Dean-lightful Dean Pelton on Community. (For those who've never seen the show, the pun is a reference to the show, not my attempt at humor.) I had heard that he had written a movie called The Descendants and while I thought it was pretty cool and that I'd see it some day, I didn't really give it much thought otherwise. Then the movie started getting a lot of buzz, a bunch of award nominations, and eventually won an Oscar. So when it finally came to the theater in my little town, I had to see if it was as good as everyone said it was. (Yes. It was.) Then some months later I started watching a new show, Ben and Kate (which was equal parts hilarious and heartfelt and was sadly cancelled before its time) and I became familiarized with Nat Faxon, Jim Rash's writing partner and co-writer of The Descendants. So when I found out that the two of them had written another movie, this time an original screenplay (The Descendants is based on a book) I knew it would be up my alley.

I had read reviews of The Way, Way Back (which is also a directorial debut for Faxon and Rash) that compared it to Little Miss Sunshine and the similarities are there. The most obvious one being the casting of Steve Carell and Toni Collette. Both are also sweet, indie movies about road trips, familial bonds, and the feeling of not fitting in.

And in regards to that last point, I think the film shares more in common with the likes of The Perks of Being a Wallflower or The Wonder Years. Stories that draw you in not so much for the plot but for the relatability. There are a lot of coming of age tales out there, and not all of them are good. The truly good ones are the ones that remind you what it's like. The awkwardness, the confusion. The frustration of feeling like you don't connect with anyone, and the sheer joy that comes with finding out there are in fact people out there who get you.

If those are feelings you can relate too, and think pretty much all of us can, I think you'll enjoy The Way, Way Back Here's the trailer:



*I picked lyrics from a song that plays in the trailer as the subject. I couldn't think of a witty quote.

Tell me your troubles and doubts, giving me everything inside and out

The other day my mom mentioned to me that I haven't blogged in a long time. Which is true. When I first started, I thought I'd try to write something on each day of the weekend at least, and maybe something during the week too, although that was pretty unlikely. But then stuff distracted me and here we are, a month later, and I only have 2 blog entries to my name.

But I digress. I wanted to get back into the habit of writing again, and since this week was a very John Hughes-y week for me, it seems like the perfect thing to write about. Monday I watched The Breakfast Club, simply because I was in the mood to watch. Then on Wednesday it was on TV and I thought "Who cares if I just watched it? I'm going to watch it again." (I have to point out that watching on TV after just having watched it on DVD is a funny experience. They really don't do a good job dubbing the curse words.) After The Breakfast Club they immediately aired Sixteen Candles and I couldn't not stick around for that, even though I eventually had to go to bed and therefore couldn't watch the whole thing. Yesterday I watched Pretty in Pink, just to complete my viewing of the John Hughes/Molly Ringwald trilogy of nostalgia. Though some may not agree with me, they are amongst my favorite movies ever and they just make me so happy whenever I watch.

During the week I also watched the pilot episode of Community, which is heavily influenced by The Breakfast Club. In fact, the episode is dedicated to John Hughes, who had passed away the summer before Community had premiered. After watching, I thought about how sad it was that he wouldn't be able to witness this legacy he had left behind, although I suppose the legacy existed long before Community (and will continue long after, no doubt.)

There was another episode of Community that aired just a few weeks ago that had used Don't You (Forget About Me) (AKA the Breakfast Club song.) Just hearing it in the background of a scene that lasted about a minute was enough to give me that warm happy feeling we call nostalgia, and was probably what subconsciously put me in the mood to watch all these movies again. But here's the funny thing. I was born in the 80s. When The Breakfast Club came out, I was not even 3 years old. I saw all the classic 80s teen movies on tv years later. So why do I get nostalgic for coming of age movies that were made a decade before I came of age myself? As a matter of fact, I don't get any sort of sentimental feelings for things like Dawson's Creek which probably was the show that defined my generation. (Although I personally think Daria captured high school life in the 90s better than any other show from that era.)

Sometimes when I'm at the mall, I see teenagers and I feel like I'm a universe away from them. Not even so much age-wise, because getting mistaken for being younger than I am is something that happens to me on a semi-regular basis. But something about their demeanor, the way they carry themselves, makes me feel like the world you live in between the ages of 12-19 is different than the world we inhabit when we're adults. Sometimes I remember my own youth and feel the same way. But whenever I turn on a good Brat Pack movie, those barriers vanish. Youth becomes relatable again.

It's the magic of Hollywood, I suppose.

I guess I just like liking things

When I was in second grade, my class was discussing which day of the week was their favorite. I mentioned that I liked Sunday because Garry Shandling was on then. And every kid in the class (or at least what felt like every kid in the class) responded with "ewww." I was actually kind of hurt by that. And while you can excuse small children for being tactless, sometimes adults exhibit this kind of behavior too. And I just don't get it. Why can't we just let people like the things they like? I'm not a fan of Taylor Swift. (Nothing personal her stuff just isn't my cup of tea) But if a friend mentions how much they love her, I'll just let them enjoy themselves. Who am I to rain on their parade?

I started reading Harry Potter a lot later than most people. The last book was the only one I got to read "live". And I wanted to make sure I enjoyed the experience. So I made myself a costume and went to a few release parties, and my mom and I even made a cake to celebrate the occasion. And there were some folks who thought it was weird. Not just the costumes or the cake, but they thought the mere fact that I read a book the weekend it came out was weird. And while the healthy attitude to have is to just say "who cares what they think?" there's a part of me that wondered "why can't they just let me enjoy myself?"

Sometimes it feels like a lot of people like to view the world through a lens of negativity. Now, I'm not talking about pessimism, since I know that having an optimistic attitude isn't the easiest thing in the world for every person to have. No, what I'm talking about is the attitude that genuinely liking things just isn't cool. To be honest, I did feel somewhat like a dork when I dressed up like a wizard. And then within a few seconds I realized that everyone around me was acting pretty much the same way, so I just let loose and have fun.  And I really wish that more people in the world could just let themselves let loose and have fun. Be a goof once in a while.

The name of my blog, I Like Liking Things, is inspired by an episode of Community:

I feel like this line sums up my opinions about things pretty nicely. You don't have to like everything. But if you don't like it, just live and let live. I would never want my dislike of something to infringe upon your liking it.

Building a soapbox

Ever since I was a kid, I enjoyed reading reviews. After the Sunday comics, my favorite section of the newspaper was the entertainment section, the one that reviewed all the new movies coming out that weekend. Every Friday I'd sit there and read every one, even for the movies I had no intention on seeing. It wasn't just the newspaper either; whenever an Entertainment Weekly or a TV Guide found its way into our house I'd spend a lot of time thumbing through the pages. I guess I always found the reaction that a piece of art can provoke to be as fascinating as the art itself.

There was always a part of me that envisioned that being a critic would be a fun job. I had written a few reviews of various things as extra credit projects, and while I don't mean to sound conceited, I think my writing was pretty good. (For those of you not born in the 1980s, "don't mean to sound conceited" is indeed a reference to the Baby-Sitters Club.)

But there were two main reasons that I never pursued journalism as a career. One is because I know that writing professionally is not nearly as glamorous as it seems. Heck, it's already taken me several attempts to write this introductory blog post. The other reason is because I knew that it wasn't the easiest field to get a job in. At least, not the kind of job I envisioned.

But things have changed over the years. Thanks to a little thing called the internet, you don't have to work for a newspaper or a magazine in order to have your voice heard. If you want a platform for your thoughts, all you have to do is build one yourself.

So here we go. Let's see if this lasts.