Thanksgiving break is magical. You get to come home, sleep alone in a quiet room, root through a well-stocked fridge, etc. But when i got home, the real joy for me was the PBS program that my dad had taped. PBS does this thing called American Masters where they make documentaries about all kinds of things. Sounds riveting, i know, but when i came home on Wednesday my dad informed me the he taped one about Woody Allen. WOODY ALLEN. I freaking love him. and the only reason I love him is because my dad has some sort of man crush on him and so my entire childhood became devoted to watching ever single piece of his work. My dad was not concerned about my bike riding skills or the loss of my first tooth, but my knowledge of Woody Allen the legend was of the utmost importance. And guess what dad, IT WORKED. Woot. Your job as a parent is done.
Anyways, Woody Allen really is my favorite film maker and this documentary about him only reassured my love for him. At one point when he was asked why he kept making movies even though they rarely produced a lot of audience turn out or good reviews, he said “I don’t care much about public success. I just make what i want when and ignore the rest.” Thank you Woody, you are forever inspirational. Except when you talk about death, you pessimist.
This has no relation to anything, I just really didn’t know what to blog about.