Movie credits is a thought-provoking topic. I think I have sometimes seen those names flood the screen and picked one out and imagined that my thought itself was an invaluable tribute to the person with the potential to lift them. But then their name is just a name, and I wonder if that they are there at all matters. I suppose it does to their family and friends, although on the whole I think there is something imbalanced about reveling in being in the credits. It's self-aggrandizing. I try to fight being the kind of person who wants to be in the credits (although perhaps commenting on blogs is only one step up).
I'm reading "Transit," by Rachel Cusk, now. There's a bit in there about some writers' need for attention, and also stuff about loneliness. Wanting attention is a lot less troubling if it's simply framed as trying to slay loneliness. We normally think of lonely people as attention deprived, however, while wanting to be famous is wanting a surfeit.
Movie credits of the anonymous could conceivably force themselves into your mind. But, as I said, if I just see your name, it really doesn't mean anything to me. I will only remember it if I make a regular effort. I feel people will be more flattered when I think of them spontaneously and because of themselves. I think they would be stunned if they knew, but pleased. I take a moment to savor the oddity of remembering some acquaintance of mine from when I was 8 years old.
Even with technological advancements, we do all still maintain a vestige of privacy, and there's a lot I would so much like to know about people but can't. Along with how sincerely saddened they are by others' misfortune and demise, I would like to know how many acquaintances pop into their brains. I believe there are people who don't pay that weird homage to their 8-year-old acquaintance, and I have to say I am quite biased against such people.
Movie credits is a thought-provoking topic. I think I have sometimes seen those names flood the screen and picked one out and imagined that my thought itself was an invaluable tribute to the person with the potential to lift them. But then their name is just a name, and I wonder if that they are there at all matters. I suppose it does to their family and friends, although on the whole I think there is something imbalanced about reveling in being in the credits. It's self-aggrandizing. I try to fight being the kind of person who wants to be in the credits (although perhaps commenting on blogs is only one step up).
I'm reading "Transit," by Rachel Cusk, now. There's a bit in there about some writers' need for attention, and also stuff about loneliness. Wanting attention is a lot less troubling if it's simply framed as trying to slay loneliness. We normally think of lonely people as attention deprived, however, while wanting to be famous is wanting a surfeit.
Movie credits of the anonymous could conceivably force themselves into your mind. But, as I said, if I just see your name, it really doesn't mean anything to me. I will only remember it if I make a regular effort. I feel people will be more flattered when I think of them spontaneously and because of themselves. I think they would be stunned if they knew, but pleased. I take a moment to savor the oddity of remembering some acquaintance of mine from when I was 8 years old.
Even with technological advancements, we do all still maintain a vestige of privacy, and there's a lot I would so much like to know about people but can't. Along with how sincerely saddened they are by others' misfortune and demise, I would like to know how many acquaintances pop into their brains. I believe there are people who don't pay that weird homage to their 8-year-old acquaintance, and I have to say I am quite biased against such people.
wise, as always! I'm eager to hear about Lithuania!