The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again.
Robert Jordan, The Wheel of Time
I fear it is that time again. It seems every few months the inexorable Wheel of Time turns; eons live and die instantaneously, and again another era is born from their ashes. A particular idea held before these months is no longer even a distant memory—it is simply disappeared. A born-again amnesiac, I am forced to realize (for what is the first time, every time) something I have already come to understand. This Understanding is a mannequin arm adhered to Time’s Wheel by the thorough application of duct tape: so long as time passes, I am continually smacked in the face by a mannequin arm on a large spinning wheel. Eternally, what had been forgotten is picked back up, examined, and forgotten. This time around the Wheel, however, I am determined to hold tight onto that concept which is determined to be left behind. This is why I write. Perhaps, however, this should be referred to as the problem behind those multiple concepts which are determined to be left behind, for there are two. The problem, essentially, is that these two separate conceptualizations collapse into and masquerade as a single idea. Both concepts—both people, really—for they are people, become so hopelessly entangled among the web of my psyche that they are conceived as the same. Somehow, I keep confusing the actors Willem Dafoe and Jim Carrey1 with each other, but when I say I keep confusing them with each other I’d say it’s happened two times that I know of. In the words of Doctor Doofenshmirtz, if I had a nickel for every time I did that, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice2.
And these two men are not so different, therefore I do not feel so bad. They are both white male actors. They are both silly. They’re both kind of old, Jim being 62 and Willem 69. Both have played green villains in superhero movies (the Riddler and Green Goblin), and they are both pretty iconic.
One time I was watching an interview3 on Instagram of Willem Dafoe, or maybe Jim Carrey, not sure which. He was talking about his acting career and explained “I always like this idea of trying to fail.” This interview was suitably inspiring for me to start writing about it and putting his words into practice, to try to fail. Hopefully I’m doing a little better than failing, but what can you do. He shares that you should “try to make a bad painting; try to act badly; try to be lousy in that scene. It’s interesting. It kind of puts the idea of striving for perfection, you know, it does something.” Pursuing perfection is a nonstarter—it locks you up and wastes time. I’ve found that even striving for something “passable” is not always a good idea4. If you release your inhibitions (feel the rain on your skin5), you can start constructing experience and skill. It’s interesting that this advice comes from a person as successful as Jim Carrey or Willem Dafoe, although it’s a little difficult to conceive of them literally “trying to fail” every opportunity they get, especially in their professional career. Still, it’s a useful exercise.
Thanks for reading. In case I don’t see ya, good afternoon, good evening and goodnight. I think Willem Dafoe says that in The Truman Show. That’s actually a great movie, and I need Truman’s gray turtleneck sweater.
Some fun photos of Jim and Willem (also the aforementioned sweater):
