What would happen if you just didn't give a fuck? If you said what you wanted to say, did what you wanted to do, kissed who you wanted to kiss? I'm betting life would feel a lot more like you were living it instead of whatever you're doing now. Whatever I'm doing now, is probably actually more the point.
I shouldn't be this fired up- I just got out of a 2-hr long free class for writers about studio vs. indie blah, blah. The information wasn't groundbreaking, and the outlook the Hollywood-Insider-Guy painted was dismal.
Meh. I'm not even fazed by grim Hollywood Chicken Little bullshit anymore. But I got to thinking on the way home of some of the break-into-the-biz options HIG mentioned and I wondered why I hadn't tried any of them. My best reason - and it sucks - is because my shyness is arresting and I'm scared of my own shadow. How's that for Chicken Little bullshit?
It's the worst excuse, and it's a topic that's been on my mind more than the usual all-the-time-constantly that I examine myself. The WHAT-IFS. What if I suck, what if they hate it, what if he hates me, what if they don't get it...
What if I don't give a fuck? What if I tell people what I really think? I have a reputation for being honest, and I am, unless I'm lying to your face. What if I tell you I'm not interested instead of taking an hour to explain the reasons why you and I aren't such a good idea right now? What if I RSVP "No" to Evites without a benign explanation why I can't make it? What if I tell you, you're wrong, when you are?
What if I don't give a fuck? What if I do what I want to do? People think I already do that. I pole dance, and I write about blood-tinged semen and sociopathic teenage girls. My secret is, that's the tip of the glacier. I can fill reams of paper with the things I want to do and be. What if I tried more? What if I wrote and directed the short that haunts me, even though I have no money, even though I don't know how? Who gives a fuck?
Who would give a fuck if I kissed whoever I wanted? "Who haven't you kissed?" snears Igor from behind a fold in my frontal lobe. I've had make-out dreams about a friend, and I could dismiss my dreams as sweaty manifestations of the day's particular stresses but... I'm curious. So what if...?
Having given my blog addresses to family members recently, I guess I'm putting my money where my mouth is - they don't get a lot of fuck this and fuck that from me. And I guess if I don't give a fuck, it really doesn't matter. (Sorry anyway, Mama and Daddy. Don't stop loving me! xo!)
But think about it: What if you didn't give a fuck? What would you do? What would you say? Who would you kiss?
I shouldn't be this fired up- I just got out of a 2-hr long free class for writers about studio vs. indie blah, blah. The information wasn't groundbreaking, and the outlook the Hollywood-Insider-Guy painted was dismal.
Meh. I'm not even fazed by grim Hollywood Chicken Little bullshit anymore. But I got to thinking on the way home of some of the break-into-the-biz options HIG mentioned and I wondered why I hadn't tried any of them. My best reason - and it sucks - is because my shyness is arresting and I'm scared of my own shadow. How's that for Chicken Little bullshit?
It's the worst excuse, and it's a topic that's been on my mind more than the usual all-the-time-constantly that I examine myself. The WHAT-IFS. What if I suck, what if they hate it, what if he hates me, what if they don't get it...
What if I don't give a fuck? What if I tell people what I really think? I have a reputation for being honest, and I am, unless I'm lying to your face. What if I tell you I'm not interested instead of taking an hour to explain the reasons why you and I aren't such a good idea right now? What if I RSVP "No" to Evites without a benign explanation why I can't make it? What if I tell you, you're wrong, when you are?
What if I don't give a fuck? What if I do what I want to do? People think I already do that. I pole dance, and I write about blood-tinged semen and sociopathic teenage girls. My secret is, that's the tip of the glacier. I can fill reams of paper with the things I want to do and be. What if I tried more? What if I wrote and directed the short that haunts me, even though I have no money, even though I don't know how? Who gives a fuck?
Who would give a fuck if I kissed whoever I wanted? "Who haven't you kissed?" snears Igor from behind a fold in my frontal lobe. I've had make-out dreams about a friend, and I could dismiss my dreams as sweaty manifestations of the day's particular stresses but... I'm curious. So what if...?
Having given my blog addresses to family members recently, I guess I'm putting my money where my mouth is - they don't get a lot of fuck this and fuck that from me. And I guess if I don't give a fuck, it really doesn't matter. (Sorry anyway, Mama and Daddy. Don't stop loving me! xo!)
But think about it: What if you didn't give a fuck? What would you do? What would you say? Who would you kiss?
