Wait—Jason Ritter is now in a show with Alexis Bledel?

That’s…gross. Poor Lorelei!

More importantly, why haven’t I seen millions of jokes about this already? Am I reading the wrong internets?!

So, obviously this is stupid, because terrorism is terrorism, and ranking acts of violence is…pointless, but…there’s just something about this that just seems…extra cruel. 

I’ve never run a marathon, but I know plenty of people who have, and I have some sense of what a huge deal it is, and how accomplished they feel—and I also know how much euphoria there is when they cross that finish line. So…to take something like that—something so purely joyous, something so worth celebrating—and turn it into this is just…I don’t know. I don’t have any words that aren’t trite or obvious.

I’m just mad.

baliset:

ain’t no party like a Gatsby party because a Gatsby party don’t stop until at least two people are dead and everyone is disillusioned with the jazz age as a whole

three!

(via scribnerbooks)

whatshouldwecallme:

GPOY

Right now, I’m teaching The Great Gatsby for the third time, which means that I have thought about this book for longer, and more deeply, and reread it more than any other book in the history of my book reading life.

This also means that I keep having little bursts of self-satisfaction as I notice new things about it…annoyingly (for me, not you, obviously), this arrogance is immediately checked, because I have no outlet to boast about my brilliance. Like, the whole point of teaching is that I’m supposed to let the students have their own epiphanies (and they don’t listen to me anyway, so it would be a moot point), and it’s not like I can live-blog it…OMG you guys!!! You won’t believe what Daisy just did!!!

So, instead, I just sit here, willing someone to assign me an essay, while that scene from The Simpsons plays in my head…

Silver Linings, I guess?

So, my job requires me to whole-heartedly believe that every book I teach is great, which is lucky, because I’m really good at convincing myself that something is great, regardless of whether it actually is or not. (And, conversely, I’m also pretty good at finding all the ways something is the worst, regardless of whether it actually is or not.)

This is less useful when it comes to actually assessing things I read for pleasure. I’m reading a book for my new book club now, and every time I open it, I have a little frisson of panic, because, wait, what do I actually think of this? Is it terrible? Oh, here are four thousand reasons why that’s true. Oh, wait, no, it’s the best book ever written? Here you go! four thousand reasons, coming up! 

This problem is also seeping into my TV viewing (which is sort of extra tragic, because I started this whole tumblr thing as a venue for my TV reviews…). This is partially because I willfully watch crap, and would rather not analyze either TV shows that aren’t worth the analysis, or my decision to watch them, but it’s also because I’ve gotten so used to reading recaps that I’ve become almost wholly reliant on those reviewers to spoon-feed me their opinions so I can appropriate them as my own. (I’ve actually had the thought, as I click on a review, “oh good! now I’ll know if I liked this!” which, I mean, what?)

Occasionally, though, I’ll watch a show that isn’t in the rotation of my go-to recappers, and I am forced to go elsewhere for my spoon-fed thoughts. Did you know that there are some really bad writers out there? They have some really dumb opinions! I may not know if I liked the show I just watched, but I sure as hell know I didn’t enjoy the review of it.

Soooo, at least there’s that, right?

Maybe I’ll sit quietly at my debut appearance at my book club, and just silently judge other people’s judgements. It’s the one thing I have left!