Tag Archives: Anger

Trailer Breakdown for Inside Out

10 Dec

Today, Disney-Pixar presented the general public with a glorious gift, one that I had almost feared would never arrive – an official Inside Out trailer that was not just a commercial for Disney Pixar studios at large. Don’t get me wrong, I got misty watching that early teaser, but it didn’t do much for the movie it was pretending to market.

Unlike this one, of course. Treat yourself.

One little tip for watching this trailer: it’s fine by itself, sure. But when a trailer is as dialogue-heavy, food-chewing-heavy, and music score-light as this one, sometimes, you have to add your own soundtrack.

This bad boy syncs perfectly with the subject matter, play it while watching the preview on mute you’re welcome
io_1

*uncomfortable chewing noises and now you know why I wanted music*io_2

“So, how was the first day of school?”
io_3

“It was fine, I guess. I don’t know.”

Is this your first time being angsty and secretive? It’s okay honey, you’ll get better at it. It just takes time and bitterness.io_4

Voiceover: “Do you ever look at someone and wonder, ‘what is going on inside their head?'”io_5

Doo wee oooooo EEEE oooooio_6

“Did you guys pick up on that?”

“Mhm, mhm.”

“Something’s wrong.”

I have never before thought of this range of emotions as adorable. This is a whole new frontier of cute.
io_8

“We’re gonna find out what’s happening. But we need support. Signal the husband.”

Sadness is running this woman’s show? That makes me sad. Wait. Wait what are your glasses connected to this is making me uncomfortableio_9

“Ahem.”io_10 io_11

Okay but am I seriously the only one waiting for some flying text to come out and say “starring David Tennant”io_12

MUSTACHIOED EMOTIONS

what a time to be alive

io_13

whaaaaaat come on guys you could do better.io_14

“AHEM”

io_15

A wild wife appears!io_16

“Uh-oh. She’s looking at us.”

I know that feel, bro.

io_18

“What did she say?”

“Oh, uh, sorry sir, no one was listening.”

STOP IMMEDIATELY. I WAS HOPING TO BE ANNOYED WITH HIS STEREOTYPING; I DID NOT WANT TO IDENTIFY SO STRONGLY WITH HIM.
io_19

“Is it garbage night? We left the toilet seat up. What? What is it, woman, what?”

io_20

“Signal him again.”

Even her emotions have to have coffee. You poor baby, let me hold you.io_21

Aw man, for real buddy. You might not have been listening, but right now your daughter is eating Chinese food but still looks upset. This is serious now.io_22

Buddy.io_23

io_25

“Ah. So, Riley, how was school?”

#Naileditio_26

“Really?”

“Augh!”

“You gotta be kidding me!”io_27

“For this we gave up that Brazilian helicopter pilot?”

You what? No wonder Sadness is in charge.io_28

So is Riley the main character, or are her emotions the stars?io_29

Because, I mean, Riley herself isn’t voiced by two of the best comedy actors ever born.io_30

Mindy Kaling, you are perfect even when you don’t say anything.io_31

“School was great, all right?”io_32

“What was that?! I thought you said we were gonna ‘act casual!'”

Bill Hader, you are perfect all the time always be in every movie please.io_33

“Riley! Is everything okay?”io_34

“Uhhhhhhhgh”io_35

“Sir, she just rolled her eyes at us.”

I love how that’s the only cue he chose to pick up on. That is so telling. I’m gonna go yell about animators and filmmakers now.io_36

“All right. Make a show of force. I don’t want to have to put the foot down.”io_37

“No! Not the foot!”

*Psycho music plays*io_38

“Riley, I do not like this new attitude.”

and so misplaced, I mean, come on, Chinese food

io_39

“Oh, I’ll show you attitude, old man.”

“No. Nono breathe -“io_40

ohman visual representations of abstract concepts are so IMPORTANTio_41

“What is your problem? Just leave me alone!”

Can we talk about how her sweater has all the colors of her emotions? And how red and green are the most prominent? Can we do that?io_42

“Sir! Reporting high levels of sass!”

Hold up a minute, Dad’s disgust has been around, but he’s not looking nearly as disgusted as I would assume such an emotion should. io_43

“Take it to Defcon 2!”

Maybe this guy’s Disgust-emotion-employee is faulty? I mean, it would explain his tie decisions.io_45

“I don’t know where this disrespectful attitude came from,”

I’m more worried about where you picked up the tie, kid.io_46

“You wanna piece of this, Pops?”

Mm, yes, my emotions, as well, occasionally take on the personality of gangsters from 1940s cartoons.io_47

“Yeah, well, well-“io_48

“Prepare the foot.”io_49

“Keys to safety position!”io_50io_51

This is quite the production. I’m a little bit scared of the foot.io_52

“Ready to launch on your command, Sir!”io_53io_54

Everyone recognizes the Cold War of familial relationships.
io_55

Aaaaand nuclear.io_56

“Just shut up!”io_57

“Fire!”io_58

“That’s it! Go to your room!”

Wow.

That foot was never up very high to begin with.

io_59

io_60

“Foot is down! The foot is down!”

He’s so proud there are SIGNS
io_61

“Good job, gentlemen. That could have been a disaster.”

Turn the soccer back on, you’ve earned it.io_62

“Well that was a disaster.”

Look at Joy sitting there. She looks so under-utilized.io_64

That’s it, baby. Spread those wings.io_65

“Come. Fly with me, Gatinha!”

Fun fact for everyone out there trying to woo some ladies: no one can resist being called a kitten (but maybe try it in a different language).

io_66

Look at them. Putty. Try it today!io_67

Man, this looks so adorable I am so excited for this cutie pieio_68WHAT PUNS YES

I’m sold. Way to finish strong, kittens.

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Fighting for My Rites

21 May

Every family has a thing.

You know, as in that family that drinks vegan shakes three meals a day, the family obsessed with dogs, cars, saving people, hunting things, or the family business.

My family, as you may know from previous posts, has been greatly influenced by the outdoorsman that is my father. This affects things that would otherwise be more normal. Our living room walls, for example, are a zoo, but the dead kind. Our vacations revolve around my dad being able to catch a fish at some point. And my sisters and I have to shoot a deer and catch a Steelhead before we are allowed to move out, or as Dad has since put it, before he will consider his three daughters adults.

I got my hunting license at twelve, and therefore dropped my first deer that year as well. Half-way done.

But the Steelhead? Not so much.

On my way to my first Steelhead trip when I was fifteen or sixteen, Dad warned me about their catch difficulty, saying, “the Steelhead is the fish of a thousand casts.” So eloquent. It was like the opening line of a poem. I lifted my head and silently accepted the challenge just before Dad continued, “So count.”

Oh, you’re serious.

I got up to eighty-five that day. No bites.

The next time I think I raised it to one hundred thirty. Maybe a couple hundred fifty next time? Who knows.

My counting only grew less enthusiastic and/or accurate. And of course, the Steelhead continued to swim around me like they could smell my naivete. She’s only at four hundred seventy-nine, I heard them gurgle to each other once. What a child. Hold back, Jim, let her sweat a little.

The best part was that at this point in my life, I wouldn’t have called myself the world’s most talented fisherman – not for lack of practice, mind you – so with every new person we had along on our endless stream of fishing trips, I had a new tutor who thought they were going to turn my sad, unskilled form into some sort of angling wizard who can call fish like a mystical freshwater siren.

If you have not been raised the way I have been, let me explain you a thing: I have been fishing (and just fine, thank you very much) since I was two years old. Two years old. So when any fishing guide who had never met me, looked at the way I held a rod, he would deduce that I didn’t even know what a fish was, and it got more than a little frustrating. No amount of authoritative “Uh-huh”s, “Yep”s, or “Mhm, Got it, thanks!”s will get you anywhere in this position.

It was a thought process that infected most guides I’d fished with by this time; it happened again a little while back, on the day I finally ensnared the elusive Steelhead.

We started the day off in a boat with two hours of rain, followed by two more hours of radio silence, briefly interrupted so my dad could reel in a Steelhead. (Factor these in if you’re doing the math on my mood)

When my fish hit, it took several minutes to reel the angry thing in, amidst the constant coaching of our guide, who seemed to be under the impression that at any moment I might give up and toss my rod to the retreating fish. But when it was near enough, he grabbed the net, dipped it in the Nestucca River, and pulled out the Steelhead I’d been waiting for.

My dad was nearly as excited as I was. I had done it. I was on my way to adulthood.

As Dad went for his camera, the guide posed next to me, cradling my catch. I motioned for the guide to give the slimy symbol of maturity to me. This fish, right here, this is my crowning achievement! The fish of a freaking thousand casts. My fish. Let me hold my dang fish.

He gave me a skeptical look and conceded a small part of its belly for me to hold on to for the picture.

“Should I -” I began, still motioning. I want to hold my fish.

“It’s pretty strong.” He said with a touch of finality, holding tighter to the fish’s tail.

I am a very short girl and I detest confrontation, so I am not often intimidating. But the eyes are the windows to the soul, so, even non-verbally, I must have said something vile to that boy.

Therefore, I can only assume that fish was fighting his poor wrist something terrible (without actually moving) and the young man had far too much chivalry to allow me to suffer as he did. With my fish. My fish. Those two words echoed in my head. You know how you don’t care about something until it’s threatened? The rapport I formed with this fish in the eleven seconds the guide and I jointly held it for pictures grew as strong as that which I share with my dearest possessions.

So when he said, “Okay,” hefted it from my empty hands, and turned to the side of the boat to let it swim free, I went full-scale three-year-old on him.

My fists balled up. My jaw dropped. My eyebrows furrowed so hard I believe I grew a unibrow. It’s a bit of a blur now, but I think I may have stamped my foot.

The guide’s back was turned and, unfortunately, I couldn’t bring myself to say a word.

But my performance only needed one audience member. My darling daddy, formerly occupied watching the fish just nearly escape, glanced up at my face and his eyes widened. In that moment, he didn’t need to see a fast-maturing seventeen-year-old. He needed to see his youngest daughter wearing an expression he recognized from years and years of the cruel world mistreating her.

“Hey, oh, can she let it go?”

“Oh, sure.”

So I, and I alone, let go of my lady fish’s tail to set her free.

Steelhead caught. Rite of passage finished.

And that’s how I threw a tantrum in an effort to convince my father that I was an adult.

How I Almost Went to the Dark Side

12 Jul

Opinions are important.

If you take the time and initiative to form one, it shows that you are thinking, and that is the sign of a healthy mind, and one that is not content to be passive in every issue. I respect that.

By the way: today’s message comes to you from the girl who shouted angry verbal abuse at her email inbox for an inordinate amount of time after receiving a correspondence from someone with a different point of view from hers.

Wait though, before you start judging me, know that she insulted my favorite book.

So, see? It’s hardly an overreaction that I’ve worked up enough hostility to expect Emperor Palpatine to walk through the door any second and invite me to join the Dark Side.

If you’re a book lover, chances are you’ve felt my pain. In fact, if you’ve ever passionately enjoyed any medium of entertainment, you’ve probably felt it.

You’re having a conversation with someone, and everything is going just fine until the topic of literature, music, or television comes up. You ask the person how they feel about a certain novel or band or show, or whatever it is – you make sure to leave out the bit about how much irrational love you have for it. You are testing the waters to see if they share your clearly impeccable taste.

And then they say it. They have an opinion. And heaven forbid – it is not yours.

There are nice ones, who present their bad experience in a less-than-overly-critical way.

And then there are the ones like I read in an email a couple days ago. The ones that are meant to pick apart the subject matter, but instead are received like personal attacks. I read the message and, although the offending individual was only insulting A Wrinkle in Time, I felt as though she were calling my newborn daughter[nonexistent] an ugly, disgusting piece of trash.

In a case like mine, one is left with only three options:

  • Respond with an all-caps email that informs the person that they have a horrific lack of taste and that you hope they “STEP ON A LEGO EVERY DAY FOR AN ENTIRE WEEK”
  • Respond with a kind email that points out the parts of the book that had a profound effect on you and ask whether the person would consider going over them again
  • Stew angrily and not reply at all; avoid eye contact in future run-ins; never mention subject matter again

Guess which one I chose.

No, not the first one, who do you think I am? Wow, guys.

I’m very possessive of the things I love, and in a lot of cases, that’s perfectly fine, even beneficial. But when it comes to something like this, I need to let it go.

Chances are, in my line of interests, this is going to happen to me again, and it will likely happen to you as well. The Sith Lord of fandom-fury will reach out to us again.

“The hate is swelling in you now… Give in to your anger. With each passing moment you make yourself more my servant.”

When this happens, we need to step back, raise our  light sabers, and say, “No.” No, we will control our anger, not be controlled by it. We will love what we love but not hate others for it not loving it. And, actually, while we’re at it, we should probably invest in light sabers.

Thus ends today’s rant. Let me know if something like this has happened to you before, and whether you dealt with it better than I did.

If you need me, I’ll be re-reading A Wrinkle in Time so I can console her and remind her how beautiful she is.