ordinary is alright: Paterson
For most of my life I struggled with the near-crippling pressure of being the best or on top or perfect. It's the first time I'm properly talking about it as in putting it down in writing instead of blurting it out as a disorganized jumble of words only previously unlocked by (at the very least) mild intoxication. I want to discuss it through the lens of an amazing, heartfelt film called Paterson. A bus driver writes poems. That's it. He has an artistically-inclined wife who loves him and is proud of his work. They have a dog. He drinks at the bar at night. There are people around town and they interact, in the bus, at the station, at the bar, and this bus driver listens. That's the whole of it. It's exceptionally ordinary. The dramatic arc is modest and it doesn't end in some huge cliffhanger or involves a shocking red herring. It's just this bus driver who writes poems, and the people he's surrounded with, and the town that he lives in. The narrative