C.K.: Well, when you and I first talked about this, you told me the sort of world of it and who I was playing and how he fit in, and my feeling was that this guy was the only person who was not having these problems that the other characters were having. My guy doesn't have layers. He doesn't have to figure out how much of himself to use or how to call another person out. He just does what he's supposed to do. It's interesting because I was watching the movie while my kids were doing their homework, and when it was over, I said, "I'm so relieved that I don't break laws. I'm grateful that I don't have to worry about the shit that these people in the movie are wrestling with." That's probably why I had a good time playing that guy—I think he felt that way, too. It's like, "You people are nuts. You're not supposed to be doing any of these things that you're doing. None of this is okay. You're supposed to be yourself, be honest, follow the law, and take less out of life."
RUSELL: Take less out of life?
C.K.: Yeah. You're not supposed to become something else so you can get more. You're supposed to stay you and get through as yourself, because at least then you can count on that, and you don't have to ask yourself who you are half the time. So my guy was a lot simpler to play. It was good playing with Bradley because he is so unhinged and laser-like and passionate, and it's really fun to be somebody's roadblock. He's burning in every scene, and I'm simply saying, "No, you can't do this"—it's making him crazy.
when i read this, i as just like, 'holy f--, yes.'
husband and i were walking in a furniture store last saturday, just for fun. (we went to home depot, too.) we have had this hard on about our dream house and about putting some life back into our dreams. we are both really motivated, dream-oriented people, but have both been feeling so dead. we're here for a few more years--he is finishing school--and we don't have a lot of options until then. but there are so many things we would do. move to a big city. quit our jobs and take a risk. risk it all for the sake of an adventure. instead of spontaneous, we are both kind of dying inside. i feel my options and the things i dreamed of--degrees, promotions, art, travel, exploration--slipping away, trying to figure out how to fit in kids and a family. the more i think about, the less urgent and less true to myself it feels to rush in to having a family.
in the furniture store we spent the most time by the desks, talking about exactly what our home offices would look like and what we wanted to do. 'i'm really scared,' i said. 'if i just start having kids and doing the home life thing, i'm just going to become more depressed. we're supposed to start having a family and have kids, but we won't get anything we want if we do that.'
i'm scared. i'm terrified. is it really better to become a mom soon and be a lifeless, beaten down woman? don't i owe it to myself, my husband, and my some-day kids to be full of life and to be a fulfilled person?
going to the movies is therapy for me. i interpreted c.k.'s version of 'being yourself' and not having to 'ask yourself who you are' as being traditional, sticking to the plan, doing the quiet thing and letting your ambitions go. LDS culture says that putting off having a family for personal pursuits is damningly selfish, but i don't know if i'll survive if i don't. in LDS culture, men and women take less out of life in order to become fathers and mothers, to selflessly create, sustain, and protect their families.
i want to do it some day. but if i do it now i won't survive. i want to stretch myself, go out on a limb, and get a little crazy. i don't want to be a drone, and i don't think being one guarantees you heaven. i don't want to be terrifyingly conservative and boring and take less out of life to ensure something i don't think you get by being boring or conservative.
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