Sunday, June 21, 2015

inside out

I suck at movie reviews. Really, I do. I feel like I don't do an adequate job of portraying what goes on, or I don't give a very unbiased view of the film (because if I love a movie, I love it death, despite it's many flaws. And if I hate a movie, I hate it. To. The. Pits. Of. Hell.) I get caught up on stupid little plot points that the screenwriters never meant anyone to notice, and I groan over character development.

Or I gripe about how my family has to pry me from the seat at the end. Movie theatres are not kind on the poor hypermobile soul.

literally me all the time. except i'm not that cute.
So that's why I'm not doing a movie review of Inside Out. You know, the major emotion picture (that still makes me laugh). I'm going to talk about Matty's core memories.

You see, in the movie, the girl has five or six core memories. They're prominent moments in her life, and they helped form her into the person who she is. They change over time, and by the end of the movie, they show her having a looooooooooot of core memories of many different things. I don't think I have time nor energy to go into all of my dear Matthew's core memories, but I think I'll share four of the most obvious ones with you guys. Buckle your seat belts. His mind tends to have bumpy rides.





 First off, I'd have to say the first time Colt called him his friend formed a huge part of Matt's personality. Before the twins got to know that strange gangly boy, Matt was of the opinion that two was comfortable company, while three was an uncomfortable and awkward crowd (especially when Number Three is Colton Trelawney). No one would want to be friends with someone as socially withdrawn as him. Jon, maybe, but not Matty. When Colt accepted him as his friend (and soon to be best friend), it opened up a tiny little door in Matt's brain that made him realize-- "Huh. I can make friends. I might not be very good at it, but people won't hate me for trying, at least." Colt has no idea how much his casual, "Hey, this is my buddy." made a difference in Matt's life. But I think he'd be really proud of himself if he did. Embarrassingly so.




The day Jon stopped dressing in polos and jeans and began wearing black on black also affected his personality. He hadn't really cared before that the two of them always dressed alike, but once Jon started changing, he missed it a lot. The change hurt him a lot too. In some ways, that moment is when Matt marks when Jon began drifting away from who he'd always known and loved. Because of this, he resists change. He hates it. He would rather stab himself with a fork than switch places at the dinner table. His family knows that, and it scares them. What kind of person holds on to strange things like the color of toothbrush they've always used and going to shock when somebody changes the status quo? Not a normal one, that's for sure.


Don't worry, Matty. I get how you feel on that one. A lot. 

One time, in third grade, Matt flunked a test. That day is stained red with teary eyes and blood (but only because he accidentally ran into a door knob. Don't ask silly questions.) somehow, he marked the scantron wrong, making all the answers off, and his teacher didn't think someone as meticulous as him could ever make such a foolish mistake (yes, even at the age of eight they were already holding him to ridiculous standards). Worser still, Jon got the highest grade (a 74, which isn't say much, but still. How embarrassing). Since then, Matt doesn't just double-check. He quadruple-checks. Everything. Math homework, his order at resturants, his shoelaces...he's beyond picky. He's precise.


And I think we all know what Matt's final core memory is. The most recent one. The darkest one. The one that ends with a brother in a casket and a family that turns to fix him when he still wants to understand how his brother could break him. He doesn't like thinking about this one. I don't either. But it's always on his mind. Always. Jon's suicide never leaves him alone. It's like a machine gun set on automatic, pointed straight at his brain, and it never runs out of ammunition. Why his head and not his heart? Obviously, Matt doesn't have a heart anymore, or so he says. He feels with his brain now. It's the safest way to experience "emotion." What if I had stopped him? What words did I say to set him off? When did he make the decision? Those are the thoughts that plague him. What he doesn't know is that his brother had been long gone. Talking to him was no longer like defusing a bomb...he was already counting down.















dude. that last one drained me. Just making independent character boards for them last night took way more emotion and feels than I ever thought it would. Of course, they are my babies, but still. This is absurd. And I love every moment of this emotional distress--I might do it again for another one of my victims--ahem, darling characters.


so what are some of your characters' "core memories?" what's formed them as individuals? Or even better, what about you? Can you think of the memories that made you who you are? 

my core memories: twenty one pilots concerts. all three of them.

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