There are many things a float on my social media feeds about the death of Paul Walker. It’s not like he’s the first celebrity to die and he’s hardly in a league of the highly critical acclaim or among the top of well respected Hollywood treasures, but he nonetheless had a large fan base and for other people bashing the condolences of fans using the argument that so many other countless “no names” die everyday is pretty trivial and inconsiderate. Say what you want about it but it is within perfect human nature to not have strong altruistic ties to strangers who die who we know little to nothing about or tragic events that never reach the light of our conscience because that information never travels in the circles our daily intake. Sure we feel bad about hearing about a random death on the news and obviously the more tragic and involving the greater the impact on us, but the reason why people mourn the loss of celebrities they do not know personally is become they still have some sort of connection to them, whether its through film, books, or some other piece of media or art. That idolization is still a part of you, even if its very minor, its something or someone you grew up with, still soaking in some part of your mind.
I think what’s sadder than his ironic death is the fact that Hollywood will inevitably try to capitalize on his passing with the marketing of his upcoming unreleased films and of course the next subsequent Fast & Furious film, a franchise I am fan of, which of course I’m pretty sure I could already predict the plot using his death and the ending of the last film.
Made With Paper
Hans Zimmer should compose sex scenes. Like some Lars von Trier “Nymphomaniac” shit. That would be some epic fucking.
Volvo Trucks: Jean Claude Van Damme Epic Stunt
Hone your mind. Hone your body. I’ve seriously watched this like 30 times now.
Became privy to some pretty fucked up information just now. Truly disturbing stuff. About close people that radically changes your perspective of them. I find in recency, especially as I get older, that the worlds of other people around me, the same people that I once held in high regard, their worlds seem to be falling apart on them. And unbeknownst to them, while not my responsibility or my duty, I feel the reins are on me to guide them, and help them. I mean how can you watch someone whose completely helpless and not help them? But the question I repeatedly and indepthly ask myself is how I find myself in the position to give wisdom to those I once thought wise? I guess some emotional and intellectual maturity truly is just life experience and not age. Is it tragic to how I got that experience? I don’t think so. I use to. But now I love it in more ways than I could imagine. I’m not gonna talk about my past, but I always wondered about people who romanticized the twisted obsession of the martyr complex. Those were always people who were addicted to their own misery. You can either be a victim of your past and circumstances or you can be a product of it. Because experience is one thing yes, but it’s how you cultivate that experience. If you find yourself in a position in life to lend a helping hand, lend it.
And now to sell hope to the hopeless…I wonder if there is a quota on that.
Aziz Ansari Thinks Texting Has Ruined Dating
You know those rare songs that make you wish you were the artist actually playing and performing the music as if it was your own? This is one of them.
“I’m up to my ears in unwritten words.” — J.D. Salinger letters