iammarib.bsky.social
Writer/Filmmaker
Inconsistent, overly self-conscious, occasionally funny, sometimes thoughtful, and often woefully ignorant on much of what I formulate strong opinions on.
29 posts
29 followers
24 following
Regular Contributor
Conversation Starter
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I’m curious, would take the same legal process to ban it? Or would it be streamlined in some way?
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I know, love me a good emdash! But now I’m too self conscious to use it.
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And why do half of them keep managing to send emails afterwords anyway!?
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There are few things in filmmaking I respect more than a tight 90 minutes.
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I’m worse. I have a habit of buying books and never reading them. I love the idea reading so much more than actually doing it.
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I’ve never actually watched the Razzies. I don’t even know who airs it. But I’ve always liked the idea of it. It feels like a funny way to poke fun at the self-importance often seen in the industry and its countless “prestigious” award shows.
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So before you push yourself to consume endless news or feel guilty for turning it off, remember: setting limits isn’t ignorance—it’s a way to protect your focus and resist propaganda designed to overload and shut you down.
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Overboard!
If you don’t think about it too hard, it’s as delightful as ever.
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But why!? Wasn’t winning humiliation enough? How do they even keep track all these countless, stupid, evil plans?
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Why does it really feel like this is true!!?
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It’s like your parents left the door open and lost your beloved dog. Then the next day, they come back proudly claiming they’ve found him. And sure, it looks like your dog…but deep down, you know it’s not him. Yet somehow you’re still expected to feel grateful and carry on like it’s the same dog?
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Like we can’t see it all happening in front of our faces.
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Not just the last few days, but I get your point. lol
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I’m so envious. My cat needs an inhaler twice a day for the rest of her life. 2 years in and it’s still a shock and betrayal to her every time.
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For some reason, I texted that number constantly, sharing every little thought.
A year later, I logged on. To my absolute horror, I discovered friends & family found me, followed me, and—worst of all—had been responding to my tweets the entire time. I. WAS. MORTIFIED.
So… maybe that explains it.