Tuesday, December 4, 2012

"She's my Rushmore, Max."

You know who I love effing crap out of? Bill Murray.

Yesterday I was reading an interview in the Sunday Times with one of my favorite comedians/actors of all time. (A recent addition to that list, probably right after I walked out of the theater after watching Rushmore, but an addition nonetheless). Here's an excerpt that stuck out for me:

Q: There seems to be so much serendipity in your life. Are you actively cultivating these moments or just hoping that they come to you?

A:  Well, you have to hope that they happen to you. That's Pandora's box, right? She opens up the box, and all the nightmares flyout. And slams the lid shut, like, "Oops," and opens it one more time, and hope pops out of the box. That's the only thing we really, surely have, is hope. You hope that you can be alive, that things will happen to you that you'll actually witness, that you'll participate in. Rather than life just rolling over you, and you wake up and it's Thursday, and what happened to Monday? Whatever the best part of my life has been, has been as a result of that remembering.

And anytime you can answer a question using a Greek myth, lauding the merits of hope and participating in life as opposed to letting it be a thing "rolling over you" and tying all that in to an appreciation of the serendipity of your long string of lucky breaks and well deserved chances, I just end up admiring and respecting you. It doesn't hurt in the least that often when I see his face, I can hear Sigur Ros.

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