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ntamain · 4 years ago

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Is my (24F) neighbour (27F) into me or is she just being friendly? How do I know if she's gay?

another gay gem from the r/relationship reddit

Update:

Image ID under the cut, please let me know if I did it wrong!

[Image ID: four screenshots of a post from the relationship subreddit by tumblr user nta-main. The title reads “Is my (24F) neighbour (27F) into me or is she just being friendly? How do I know if she’s gay?”

The text reads “Update post is now locked, I cant believe so many people were interested in us!! Thank you again for your support, comments and messages.

Hi all, I can't believe I'm asking for advice from a bunch of strangers on the internet but I don't really have anyone I can talk to about this. Sorry for the incoming essay but I guess I need to give history. I bought my first house in September last year, It was an odd time but everything just fell into place. It's quite a small village and everyone is really friendly so I got to know my neighbours soon after moving in - yes, socially distanced. Then I met my over-the-road neighbour, let's call her Elle. I can't describe it but it's the first time I've ever met someone and been lost for words and my heart was racing and just thought "omg", y'know?? So after I blushed my way through a welcome to the village type convo we only saw each other for a wave and hello for a few days.

To help kinda settle in I had my dog (Bea) with me for the first few weeks. During this time there was a massive increase in dog thefts in a nearby town, not just from gardens but literally wrestled away from people. If I'd have been working (furloughed off and on since March) then I would've taken Bea back to mum's but since I was home with her all day she stayed. So the local police advised to not walk dogs alone but we go out twice a day, a 10k run in the morning and a few miles walk in the evening. So obvs this scares me, but at the same time she is honestly a pain in the arse and gets upset if she doesn't go for a run and needs to be tired out so I'm kind of stuck at this point. Then along comes Elle. She knocked on the door and offered to come with us as she'd seen Bea and me in the evenings and everything kind of spiralled from there. I told her about my morning runs but she didn't really bite so I thought nothing of it. Then a few days later I bumped into her on a run, so she started joining us on those too.

A few months later and we are spending more and more time together everyday. It has now progressed to a run early morning, afternoon coffee, dinner most evenings and then the evening walk. It just seemed to happen without me really noticing. I didn't read into things that much as I don't want to get my hopes up and ruin anything until another neighbour commented about how much time we spend together and how "it's nice to see you young gals getting on" and winked. She actually winked at me. I asked her what she meant but she just laughed and said "you know what I mean". So now I'm looking back on things and wondering if she could like me too?

Here's some reasons why she might like me:

I went running along the same route at the same time for nearly 2 weeks before I happened to run into her a few days after I told her this?

I make her a coffee every afternoon (Elle is WFH) and take it over in her fave mug. She says I make good coffee but I'm pretty sure I saw a fancy coffee machine the first time I went round (it's not there now?).

Elle carried on running and walking with me even after Bea went home. I told her she was going back to mum's and she said well "I'll have to make another excuse to join you" and then we just carried on everyday.

She has tried really hard to bond with Bea. Bea is a very anxious dog and is scared of everyone except me and mum. Elle bought special treats to give her everyday and has been so amazing with her and never tried to force anything. When I asked her she said "it's important to me that she likes me and is comfortable". Bea actually fell asleep between us on the sofa yesterday and It just makes my heart skip a beat guys.

She invited me to the zoom quiz she does with her friends every fortnight or so and they were all like "oh so this is who we've heard so much about "

We realised we had become each other's support bubble. Elle asked if I was meeting anyone else and I said no, she said she was glad she had me all to herself (!!)

We gave each other quite personal xmas presents. Like, it actually made me tear up it meant so much to me. And she bought stuff for Bea!!

Reasons why she might not like me:

All the reasons above, but that she's just doing them because she's a fucking great person and we're friends?

It might sound dumb but idk I need your help guys. She is the just the most incredible person I have ever met and I really really like her but if she isn't gay or doesn't feel the same I don't want to lose her friendship as she has become such a huge part of my life. I genuinely have no experience with these kind of things as I went to quite a strict all girls school, so it's not as if there were any relationships around me as a teen and then I went to a very small uni (8 of us on my course). I guess another reason is that I've struggled with anxiety and depression for the past 10 years, as well as my weight and working on my self confidence, but I can say that right now I am the happiest and healthiest (both mentally and physically) I have ever been. I've only just really become comfortable with the fact that I'm gay and I have never really told anyone in real life, but I don't think people would be too surprised lol. I don't have any close friends as no one stuck around when I was really struggling with my MH a few years ago so I can't discuss this with anyone irl.

So I need your advice : how do I find out if she is gay? And no, I don't have the confidence to just ask!! What if she says no and I ruin everything? She has never mentioned anything about past relationships and I'm pretty tactless so not sure how I could naturally slip it into the convo. Like, "hey tell me have you ever had a girlfriend? Do you want one now?" Lol. And how can I make a move without really making a move so I don't ruin things??

tl;dr : Don't know whether my neighbour is gay and into me or is just really friendly. How can I make a move without ruining our friendship?

Edit: Ok guys, thank you so so much for all your support and encouragement. You've all given me a lot to think about. I think I'm going to casually slip some gay stuff into conversation and see how she reacts. Then bring up the neighbours comment like some of you suggested, seeing as tho the neighbour was heavily implying that we're gay. I'll do it tonight otherwise I'll talk myself out of it again. I will post an update to let you know what happens (eek). If you never hear from me again assume it went badly and I am consoling myself with cake and watching brokeback mountain in floods of tears.

Hi reddit, yes it's me the useless lesbian. First off I want to thank you all for your support, encouragement and advice - and the undeserved awards! I never expected this many of you to take the time to comment and that so many of you were rooting for us.

So I had the plan to drop these gay hints into convo like you guys suggested but honestly it all went out the window. Elle was kinda stressed friday after a shitty work zoom and just needed to vent so it wasnt the right time to start anything. Though I guess I must have been a bit off thanks to spending all day overthinking things on here, as Elle turned up Saturday morning rambling about stressing me out and apologised (!!) for ruining dinner. Obvs I said "what are you talking about you can talk to me about anything", and she said "anything?" and I said "anything" back. And guys the tension was unreal, staring at each other and hoping our lesbian mind reading powers would kick in.

Then there was some loud noise like a car backfiring or something and the moment went. So I went to make coffee and then Elle asked me why I was a bit quiet the night before and I said something about overthinking stuff and she said "what stuff" and idk you guys I wasnt prepared to be put on the spot my casual gay pop culture references were useless in this moment. My mind just went completely blank and I forgot every single thing you guys suggested and my heart was pounding and I just blurted out you know I like you, right?.

...And then she kissed me. Kissed me. We straight up just snogged in the kitchen and it was fucking great. So...you were right. You were all fucking right. She's gay, she likes me and has been trying to drop hints for nearly 5 months. sigh

We were both just too scared to make a move or ruin anything. Turns out she's been burned by straight girls in the past, so she's pretty wary and was hoping I'd straight up say I'm a lesbian so she'd know for sure - maybe the I'm a lesbian wall hanging would've been a good idea after all? Her friends have been helping her drop hints, she showed me the group chat and guys their suggestions ranged from flirting more to just turning up in a trenchcoat and nothing else lol. Also, the winking neighbour has been making comments to her as well, so shout out to her for trying to make this happen too.

So no cake and cry watching brokeback mountain, just 5 months of dating to catch up on. As for worrying about how our current schedule could be more date like during lockdown, you were right it's kinda irrelevant when you've essentially been dating the whole time. Though we never made it to our morning run yesterday, in fact we didn't leave the house at all, ha.

Thank you guys for giving me hope, even if all your suggestions completely disappeared in the moment. Maybe I'll show her the post later and ask if any of the suggestions would have worked.

tl;dr: she's gay, into me and I'm an idiot”

End image ID]

#this is for sure already on tumble #but it's so cute #I had to #mine #r/relationships #tw// ed #edit: I'll add a transcript in a minute just gotta figure out how to make it accessible

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itsmymeaningoflife · 3 years ago

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I think you should publish some of the highlights from your note taking starting in Season 1.

You asked for it. Ima post a few bullet points I made from s1 here. I think they’re funny out of context but I’m also happy to elaborate.

- They want me to believe Shane and Rick aren’t even a little fruity after the way Shane reacts after Rick is shot?? Okay

- “Carl I found you.” Sir… that’s a little black boy. Dwayne deserved better.

- The showering scene in the police station is so wholesome. Want to write a fanfic where Rick and Morgan survive together but then get together Brokeback mountain style and raise Dwayne together in the apocalypse.

- I don’t blame Lori for getting off with Shane in her grief over Rick but damn Shane was such a manipulative and controlling dick.

- “All I am is a man looking for his wife and his son. Anyone who gets in the way of that is going to lose.” Petition for this line to be used again in s11 when Rick returns

- Rick instantly accepting the fact that Glenn knows more than him about the city and letting him take the reigns is big main character energy I love him.

- Shane’s only redeeming quality is the way he stands up to Ed and then crouches down to check in on Sophia and Carol

- Ricks first morning in camp and he goes straight over to Carol to talk to her and thank her for washing her clothes. Probs the first bit of genuine unprompted kindness she’s had from a man. I love their friendship

- Daryl storming out the woods kicking a dead Walker is just hilarious. s10 Daryl would laugh at his old self Rick really saw this unhinged redneck that throws squirrels at him and was like “… that’s him… this is my new favourite white boy… maybe I can fix him.”

- Rick is so good at talking down people and keeping them calm especially Daryl wow I never realised that before

- The pickaxe scene between Carol and Daryl is perfect. Anyone else in the group would have tried to convince Carol to let someone else put Ed down but Daryl doesn’t argue and watches as she finally gets rid of her abuser. After that he has an unspoken admiration for her strength. He’s the only other one who would get it.

- Carol saying she’s claustrophobic in s1 hits different now I know daryl remembers this 12 years down the line in s10

- Daryl is so fucking sassy in s1 where tf did that go I’m crying. Those doors were built to withstand a rocket launcher. But your head aint!!

- Carol saved everyone with that grenade. Anyone who hates Carol is not welcome here

#twd #the walking dead #caryl

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oneweekoneband · 4 years ago

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shouldn’t gay taylor swift fans be given access to the original homophobic version of "picture to burn”? and other post-evermore reflection questions.

Did yesterday last twice as long as a regular day? Does anyone else feel like pulled taffy today or is that the four red wine spritzers I made myself with Sutter Home mini bottles of cab and cherry flavored seltzer? How long has it been since Taylor Swift has been to an Olive Garden? Is the part in “willow” where she’s like “You know that my train could take you home / anywhere else is hollow” about pegging? Does Taylor Swift understand even a basic sketch of the events of The Great Gatsby, a novel commonly assigned in school to teenaged children? Is Taylor implying on “marjorie” that her grandmother is a ghost? Is it weird of me to think it is nice that Taylor believes her grandmother is a ghost? Do I believe my grandmother is a ghost? Is it weird of me to think it is nice to wonder if maybe she might be? Is “gold rush” obviously for the Kaylors, or am I just being prejudiced against men’s theoretical right to be good looking? Last night I peeled myself up from a circle at the foot of the bed and poured hot sauce into canned minestrone soup when I realized it was already hours past dark. After it warmed on the stove I ate on our cramped front porch at the little painted table that is dirty all the time from just the air, I guess, even if you wipe it down twice a day, so when I see it I think of my lungs covered in dust too. But last night it was cool outside and I wanted to get as much air inside of me as possible, dirty or not, before the time came to crack southward at the waist, fall hard, with all my weight, down to my knees, and supplicate myself most disgracefully at the feet of the Lord’s most terrible daughter. The new Taylor Swift album became available at nine pm pacific time. Will there ever be salvation?

youtube

Has Taylor Swift ever met up with high school friends in a bar over the holidays and wanted to cry a little the entire time, feeling a battle in her own body between the parts inclined to slide back into the shape of an old self to fit and the hardened parts that can’t? I don’t really think so! But with “’tis the season” she has written a song about fucking your ex while home for Christmas anyway, and it slaps. It is always a wonderful treat when this anthropomorphized Tiffany platinum tennis bracelet sits herself down and writes up a pretty little fiction about the small and ugly things that normal human people do. This is what makes “All Too Well”—a perfect piece of autofiction about her fake boyfriend Jake Gyllenhaal—so good, though if you say that in certain company the reaction is like you’ve shot a dog. When Taylor spins me some shit like this, like about parking out by the Methodist to meet up in those strange, stretchy days at the very end of December for theoretically casual sex that you’ll think about sadly on the plane when you go, I accept it like a pomegranate seed plopped on my tongue by Hades himself and I thank her. If I wanted to know who you were hanging with while I was gone, I would have asked you!!!!!!!!

youtube

Why doesn’t Taylor just call this a bunch of b sides that didn’t fit right on folklore? That’s what it is. And why deny that? They’re largely very good b sides. I love “dorothea”. Do you love “dorothea”? Are you still the same soul I met under the bleachers???? If Taylor really is going to release a third part of this moody forest saga come March, will the government show some real leadership for once and declare a purge so that we the people might rise up and bring this despot to the justice she so richly deserves? Why is Taylor Swift the Patricia Clarkson in Sharp Objects to our sweating and shaking Amy Adams? Why do our mouths loll open helplessly to accept her poison spoon when proffered? Mama, please... Do you think, strictly within the cinematic universe of “no body, no crime (feat. Haim)”, wherein Olive Garden regular Taylor Swift avenges canonically murdered Haim sister Este by killing her husband and (my favorite bit) implicitly framing the mistress, that after all that is squared away she and alive Haim sister Danielle bang it out? Why did the lilting piano ballad, “champagne problems”, about refusing a marriage proposal from a college boyfriend make me cry this morning on my pathetic little walk around the neighborhood? Was I thinking of the night I was 22 when I said no and no and no then yes to a drunk boy asking me with flashlight eyes to give him a nonsense forever promise, which I did because I knew in the morning we’d have forgotten, or would pretend to? Is it because I know that night so well, can still feel and smell and see, though I never mentioned it to anyone, everything about the few hours in the dark where I fought sleep because it felt nice pretending I was someone I knew I couldn’t be? Or was it just because on Twitter someone made a video setting the song to clips of Sersh & Timmy frolicking together wearing the same vest in Little Women? Is “coney island (feat. The National)” the first duet between Taylor and a man that isn’t an atrocity and an attack or is that purely my Matt Berninger derangement disorder speaking? Is “coney island (feat. The National)” degrading my nervous system like a wasting disease even as we speak? Did I close my fist around something delicate???? Did I shatter you??????? Will my own horrible hand ever come out of the Arthur meme clenched fist into which it furiously curled when I first listened to the, yes, fine, extremely lovely “coney island (feat. The National)”??????? It’s been almost a full day and typing like this isn’t very efficient.

youtube

Is “cowboy like me” my dual reward for fighting with so many annoying guys in my “The Cowboy in the American Imagination” class lo those many years ago and, plus, for always believing that country Taylor would never die for good? Did Taylor Swift watch Brokeback Mountain for the first time this year? Would Taylor Swift like me to email her a pdf of the Annie Proulx story? Does Taylor Swift want to buy me the too expensive D.S. & Durga “Cowboy Grass” perfume I’ve been coveting for years? Is all cowboy content inherently queer? Just kidding—that one isn’t a question. Now that Taylor is once more in the business of recreational yeehawing shouldn’t she, as a gesture of goodwill, make the forbidden original homophobic version of “Picture to Burn” available exclusively to those gay fans who wish to have it? (i.e. the elite gay fans with a sense of history and place.) Does she not owe us that much? Isn’t that really the only respectful thing to do? Is it not the very, very least this monster could do?

#taylor swift #folklore

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sapphic-kid-blog · 5 years ago

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the truth is.

Angela Salmeron

Imagine you’re me. You’re twelve and you’re at a family reunion. Family members sitting around you with Wisconsin-made beer turn from the Brewers game on the television and resort to the one question that you’ve been practicing how to answer in your head: “How’s school?” And truthfully, you’re not sure. So perhaps you respond: “It’s fine.” They nod their heads and you think you’re in the clear. But then they ask you: “What are you learning?” And before you know it they’re tacking on the end: “Any cute boys?”

Now I’m sure it varies from family to family, and I’m sure the questions vary in more or less intrusive. Maybe it was never asked, and maybe it was a family friend and not an uncle or cousin. Maybe it was asked but not directly, or enforced another way. But one question for me, stood tall and it stood out among the rest.

My brain was no longer thinking about what we talked about in Social Studies or the book we read in English. It was no longer thinking about the new formula we learned in Math, or the cycle of the ecosystem in Science. It was thinking about one thing, and the one thing that I had no idea how to talk about: romantic intimacy.

From the time I got my period at the end of 6th grade, to the time I finished high school, and even sometimes now, I thought I was the odd one out or the only one who wasn’t experiencing romantic intimacy the way others would. Not kissing or hand holding but even things as simple as a crush.

What I felt was embarrassment.

Firstly, I never really had crushes or really knew what they were. Friendships in a way felt like crushes to me, and when I had no idea what romantic or sexual intimacy was, I felt confused. So then, I stopped introspecting and I started observing.

The romantic relationships I saw were comprised of these aspects: wanting to be around a person, telling that person that you didn’t just like them but you like-liked them, and then saying that you now were exclusively partners or “dating”.

Most importantly: not only were those girls, who were mostly my friends, doing this but they were, as I noticed, only doing this with boys.

I followed suit.

Come the first day of band camp — set in a gym at one of the two middle schools in my small, conservative city. With my clarinet in hand, I watched as other girls talked about boys from different schools. I watched as they giggled and flocked in groups to discuss which ones they’d be excited to see in the starting 6th grade class coming up in a few months.

I saw the first tall boy, who was decently good looking, and told the girls around me: “He’s cute.” One of the girls turned to me and said, “That’s (let’s call him) Snazzlepants and there’s his twin, (and he’ll be) Fizzywizzy.” Quickly, I acted as though I was still not only interested, but now blown away by the look of this gangly preteen walking amongst the group of kids.

This was when everything I knew about myself would be different.

Luckily when the beginning of September rolled around, this boy was in my 6th grade house, also known as the set of students I’d be sharing a side of the middle school with. So as I eventually made friends, the more I had to absolutely drop the fact that I had a crush on a boy. I had to tell them that maybe it would happen between us because one time, I saw him looking at me (wasn’t true) and one time we brushed hands (definitely wasn’t true). They’d be dazzled, awe in their eyes, and I didn’t feel embarrassed, I felt included and important.

The more twisted I became in this lie, the more I had to not only convince others around me, but I had to convince myself. Not even the bullying from his friends after they all found out would stop me from speaking my lie aloud to anyone who wanted to hear it.

I spent the days either convincing myself and others that I absolutely loved him or crying because his friends would call me ugly or stupid and annoying over a lie that I was choosing to spread. But it was better than the alternative, of being singled out and feeling as though I was the only one who felt differently than the rest; it was better than admitting a lie.

This is the first time in my life I felt like I would rather die.

Growing up in my small city of West Bend, Wisconsin, was strange. The town as I knew it was mostly white and definitely a majority, conservative white. There weren’t many people who looked like my dad, dark-skinned, and Spanish speaking, and there weren’t many people growing up around me that I knew who were part of the queer community. But my family, especially my mom, were active in the Democrat party and sticking up for civil rights. I was lucky, I suppose in a lot of aspects to know that if I ever were to come out as anything other than cis and heterosexual, I would not be living on the streets.

However, being surrounded by a lot of religious friends, spewing the words of their parents, I quickly found out that not everyone was lucky the way I was. I found out that even though my parents taught me, gay was okay, not everyone felt the same. And not only did they not feel the same, they would hate someone specifically because they were queer identifying.

I traumatized myself with movies like Brokeback Mountain and Boys Don’t Cry, thinking if I too were to express myself that way, I would meet a violent end. The media told me, I would be hated if I were like them, made me believe that I would find the same fate. It was an ending worse than being alone.

Loving who I wanted to love, because of where I lived, was not an option. It was not even questioned as an option. And even though I hated myself, for telling a lie, for having to deal with the many shitty aspects of that lie, I would continue to tell that lie.

Moving on, I continued to have so-called “crushes” on boys. I continued to force myself into situations that I was uncomfortable in because I wanted to seem normal, and I wanted to seem like there was nothing gay about me. And so, the lie festered.

I ignored signs of my queerness, and forgot them or didn’t realize what they were. Stealing my dad’s PlayBoys, hiding them under my bed, searching “girls kissing” on YouTube, watching exclusively Lesbian porn only meant I was exploring other options, and though the only option that appealed to me was women, still, it didn’t have to mean I wasn’t straight. Maybe it wasn’t as complex or scary as my thoughts were telling me. So I told myself, it didn’t matter because I could choose. I chose heteronormativity.

When it came to high school and crushes in a more traditional sense, dating and going to dances, losing one’s virginity, I became angry. Not because I wasn’t doing it but because if I wanted to do it, I’d have to do it with a guy so to perpetuate the lie.

Getting rid of the last guy, I had moved on to another: one of my best friend’s boyfriends (who’re still dating). This had become a new trend since the stages after my first “crush”; only liking boys that your close friends liked. And I remember so clearly, stepping on so many toes, making so many of my friend’s angry, and pissed off at me. I remember desperately wanting attention, not just from boys but from anybody because I was so sad, and I didn’t know why.

This was the second time in my life that I wanted to die.

Now my journal is filled with pictures of prescription bottles, bleeding wrists, and rants about how I just wanted to go away. How I was so angry to be able to breathe rhythmically and have a working heart with a steady beat, mocking me and reminding me that I was alive and I had this pain inside of me that seemed to have no real source.

When I read back on my words, I am quite literally stunned by the anger, the hatred, and the wish for a violent death.

I was 18 when I realized what was different.

One of the first notable girls I had feelings for, changed literally everything. My life, my experiences in childhood, my views about myself, and so many more aspects of my personal life were all ultimately flipped upside down. I knew that this had to be what I was missing in all those years, even if I was still afraid to say it, or even think it. Up until now, romance had been dramatic, painful, gestures had been grand and demanding, and thoughts had been intrusive and obsessive. But now, romance was soft. It was gentle and uplifting, it was simple and it felt so much more palatable. Until I broke up with her on New Year’s Eve because I still just wasn’t gay— nope, not for me.

And then, I fell in love for the first time. I loved her voice, her eyes; I loved the way that she said my name. I loved her jokes and the way she made me laugh. I loved that no matter what, everything was comfortable with her. For the first time, I pictured myself in the future, being with someone and being happy.

Finally, I was able to admit to myself: yes, I love women, and the floodgates opened.

After my girlfriend and I broke up, I dated handfuls of girls (most of which, never lasted longer than a month) because still, intimacy was such an issue. Maybe, it wasn’t that I liked girls but maybe it was certain girls. Or maybe, I wasn’t pansexual, bisexual, queer, lesbian, or whatever I was identifying at the time, perhaps, I was straight and I just experimenting. It could be possible, I’d never know and maybe, just maybe, this confusion would always be there, no matter what I did.

I was tired; so tired of not knowing, and I just wanted answers.

There’s something funny about being a gay woman, that isn’t funny at all. It’s the fear of what your life would be like without men— it’s the shame of imagining what you’d feel without the demanding presence of men. It’s the lie that you can only be serious in relationships with men, have children with men, and your life and everything you know to be true, revolves around men. I couldn't picture myself loving women, without also loving men.

But someone else could.

My sister has always been a huge presence in my life. And one day we’d just happen to be feeling the single life, so the conversation between us starts with: “We’ll be alone forever, haha.”

What was so different about this conversation was her so sure statement to me that I’d definitely have a wife.

I turned to her and paused before asking, “Can you even picture me with a man? Or marrying a man?”

Her response, so simple and so true, was: “Nope.”

Identifying as a Lesbian, now more than ever, feels so right to me. It feels like an identity in which I belong to. It’s a part of me that I’m proud of and it’s a part of me that I can’t change, no matter how much I lie to myself. It’s a part of me I never realized was there until years and years of thinking there was something wrong with me. I am proud to love women. I am proud to have a woman in my life to love. I am proud of the relationship that gives me hope for the future. And I’m proud of other gay relationships that make me feel a sense of belonging and solidarity.

Of course, there are still struggles: the question if I’m gay enough to have my sexuality be validated, if other people can sense I’m gay, if I’ll be safe, secure, and happy. And there definitely still are some shameful doubts, some questions which make me wonder if some people in my life who know I’m gay, resent me for it. I wonder if there are people in my family, who know, and are too afraid of me to express not only tolerance but support. I wonder if there are some who wouldn’t come to my wedding.

In the end, I sometimes wonder if it’s all worth it.

And then I hear powerful and inspiring stories from other members of the queer community, I see their faces shining for me and people like me to be represented.

And then I remember seeing my uncles love each other so endlessly.

And then I hear her voice, and know without a fraction of a doubt that it’s worth it.

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harrisonchute · 6 years ago

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What’s Harison been Watching?!

9/8/2018 Edition

“Perfect Blue”

I haven’t encountered one of those “Perfect Blue EXPLAINED” videos on YouTube, though I did look for it, and any online writing about Perfect Blue is gonna be marred by very standard Satoshi Kon commentary, that he’s very influential, one of the best known in the west, he do dreams and reality. I just wanted to know what people made of this movie, what their interpretations are. I saw it for the first time Thursday night, and this is what I think: the main character’s mental breakdown caused by the existential transformation pop idol to actress, the Internet, and other celebrity life-inconveniences is then exacerbated by her manager’s serial killing. Rumi just wants to protect her, protecting her past self from exploitation, and because that murder violence is so similar to the exploitation, the main character sees herself in it -- she has to, in order to immerse herself in the new roles and grow as an actress. Ultimately, I feel like Perfect Blue is a more interesting film than it is a strictly entertaining one, like that one half of Serial Experiments Lain I’ve seen. Kon identifying all these different stressors facing popular public (and female) figures is fascinating. However, most of Perfect Blue is that space in movies that isn’t dialogue or action or exposition, it’s like mood-setting or suspense setup, like a Wong Kar Wai revision of The Strangers. I would not see that movie, but I’m glad I finally saw this one.

“Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt”

I was halfway through an episode of this show when I had to go see Perfect Blue. Not surprising -- I get this way with TV shows, and it’s obviously hardly uncommon for modern media consumers. Every now and again I’ll find a show that disrupts my life, and it’s all I can think about. I was grateful for short shows earlier this year that I loved, like Fleabag and one anime show whose name I can’t remember, swearsies. And yet, I was even more grateful that Kimmy Schmidt is like four seasons -- though it’s ONLY gonna be four seasons. Regardless, it’s really surprising, and it’s especially interesting in the context of other women-led womeny shows of its day.

Upon the infamous episode where Titus is criticized for doing yellowface, I’m watching the Internet outragists shout things like “I don’t want to know the context of anything!” and was left with the startling yet embarrassing conclusion: “My God, Tina Fey is soooo white.” Like, this is what gets to her? Embarrassing because I feel like that sentiment’s been on the Internet wall for ages, with every “Tina Fey did a bad thing” headline I’ve witnessed and ignored over the years. “White people” in media usually just means this is a person whose instincts were manufactured by a system demarcated by stratification: exclusive and hostile. Revising those instincts requires some listening skills, so I was put off by the backlash to the backlash here than anything anyone was lashing against initially.

I feel like Kimmy Schmidt is the absurd comedy version of Cloud Atlas, and the word “absurd” is really the key. So much of racial representation is reliant on “realism,” it seems, threading that needle where a world needs to convincingly contain the token black friend or whoever, and “realism” comes right down to tone. I get a little put-off by absurd comedies, like the short-lived Ghosted, much as I enjoyed it, and I think that comes from my time with Futurama: as that show went on, I started to appreciate the characters more than the jokes -- always a mistake. With that one, the integrity of strict character continuity was often sacrificed for the sake of a joke. Like, Leela is not that insensitive, but she has to be kind of a blowhard in this scene for the punchline to work. Sometimes, Kimmy seems to suddenly know more about the world than I’d expect, but they make it work, because who knows where she picks up these things? The comedy/drama balance isn’t as embedded into the show’s core like You’re the Worst or the above-mentioned Fleabag; it’s got its own logic, like magical realism with abandon, more Arrested Development than Jane the Virgin.

This logic allows -- to me -- navigation through a lot of the show’s spiky territory. For example, it’s hugely problematic that Lillian shot her black husband, because he was a black man in her house at night, but it didn’t bother me (last week). The subject of criticism in the first season leading to the outrage response in the second, Jane Krakowski’s American Indian heritage, didn’t bother me because under the surface there’s that blackened but beating white people heart of “the joke is that I’m soooo white.” Lines like, “The litter in New York makes me cry” got a genuine laugh out of me, and it felt like the best possible version of “Pardon my whiteness, I’m writing a Native American caricature.” I know we’ve had 17 seasons of Modern Family for that kind of humor, but here, it didn’t bother me.

Didn’t bother me. Love that line from minorities. That means it didn’t bother anyone, right? Of course, I’m neither a black man or American Indian, so what about the Dong story line? Issues facing Asian-American men are very different from most social issues, because they all hinge on his penis and where it goes. Satiating AsAm men’s desire to be represented by anybody but Ken Jeong is a one-step process, which is why my desire no longer exists (because Crazy Ex-Girlfriend does, and Selfie before it). So it was a pleasant surprise that Dong became an actual love interest, but it didn’t change my world, and a love story is not handled with the same gravity as shows with different logic -- are we meant to take any of this seriously? Is Kimmy meant to grow as a character? Is anyone? Jane Krakoswki does, but does it matter? My brain is different watching this show, where true pathos comes from moments reached upon layers of irony and cynicism and an almost exhausting one-person race to stay ahead of the cultural conversation. For example, Titus’s romance in the two and a half seasons I’ve seen has been touching, but because it involves Titus, it’s expressed with a much more interesting vocabulary than other gay romances I’ve seen. (Though it’s probably relatively traditional and I still just think Brokeback Mountain is the raddest shit ever).

The difference between the American Indian and Dong plot lines is that I theoretically got a strand of representation out of the Asian-American element in the show, where I doubt an American Indian did from Krakowski’s plot line (though you never know until you ask). But I wasn’t asking for representation (this time), and no one else was asking to be alienated by stereotypes. So I can understand the frustration on both sides -- sometimes, it doesn’t matter how steeped in irony racism is. And as someone who’s created things for an audience once before, I know you can’t please everyone, and it’s the negative voices that resound the loudest, because they’re only echoing what’s already in one’s heart as a fragile left-brain writer variety.

My ability to excuse or at least compartmentalize the problematic in Kimmy Schmidt seems to be part of a concerted effort to appreciate a sitcom’s unique sheen. I like that a show doesn’t need to say important things to be important, that one can draw meaning from near-total meaninglessness. The joys I’ve had watching this show have mostly come from Ellie Kemper’s facial expressions and halting, intense deliveries, and I think we only get those with all the other ingredients -- contrarian satire which sometimes crosses that line from centrism to taking a side, like wow you’re so too cool for school you... went to school.

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend is the show I’m most familiar with in this burgeoning televisual fempire, and the creators of that one are constantly listening to fan feedback, almost to a fault. They seem determined to get everything right, understanding that any one individual, no matter how much a quadruple or quintuple-threat, represents the outlook of an individual, and so they’ve built a dimensional writers room and the show reflects that with its characters and their stories. But they did all that because their show is specifically about inclusion -- off the show’s title, this is the journey of a woman from rejected by society to creating her own. Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt has less of a clear thesis, and its moral lessons often feel networky and only there for some kind of conscience quota. But unlike CXG, it exists in the here and now, with dated references to The Jinx, to Marcia Clark and Chris Darden pre-American Crime Story, and now hugely insensitive jokes about shooting black men in that specific circumstance. The morality feels like a work-in-progress during an era in American society where the conversation changes every day, like the ever-shifting substance of crackling television noise.

Before CXG, I used to think it was some herculean task to listen to feedback. And on occasion, I’ll hear a video game player talk at length about how “the studio listened to its fans!” and cringe, because I know how those fans speak, at what decibel, and with what, frankly, terribly foul language. Maybe the Internet outrage episode in Kimmy Schmidt wouldn’t have stung as much had I not seen it in the context of Apu on The Simpsons. Now, there’s an example of creators who don’t give a shit. I have a lot more faith in Fey and co., with an understanding that her brand of comedy is always poking and prodding. Comedy is observation, and so much of the observation under men’s watch was “other people are different.” Kimmy Schmidt is tackling that head on, with interesting results I ultimately am not interested in, because it’s too joyous and weird.

I never regularly watched 30 Rock, but now revisiting that one via YouTube clips and compounded with a new love for Kimmy Schimidt, I’m noticing just how lyrical Tina Fey (and co.)’s dialogue is. They say there’s zero improv on that set, and I understand why -- the often tongue-twisting wordplay has a perfect cadence that’s fun to listen to and must be fun to perform. Since I’m now trying to understand rhythm in writing, this is one I’m gonna study.

Spent too much time on this, dammit. Little over two hours, I think.

PS: Anna Camp had a few guest appearances and she should’ve won an Emmy for that role if she didn’t. Or, they don’t need to make Big Little Lies season 2, because that sort of upper crust mommy wars was so perfectly satirized by that arc with Jane Krakowski.

#kimmy schmidt

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