Mmm. Interesting.

Actually, it's decidedly not.

When I was in undergrad, I both wrote and acted in my senior project. It was a series of three plays about the apocalypse titled, strangely enough, “Apocalypse Plays.” The program included a ten-minute play, a short solo piece which I acted in, and a shorter one-act. My piece was called “The Button” and was about a woman in a room with a button who was trying to decide whether or not to press the button and whether or not the button would blow up the world. Groundbreaking!

Since I had written the plays, when it came to my acting I wanted to make it clear that it was not me the writer also being the actor, it was the two separately: the writer and the actor. That meant I made some, shall we say, unique acting choices. My senior project advisor came to watch a rehearsal one night and when I had finished my part he said, mostly toward my director, “Why did you make that choice¹? Sam’s so interesting already.”

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In grad school (drink), I had a professor who basically forbade us from using the word ‘interesting’ in class. He said it didn’t really mean anything and we should be more descriptive when we had feedback. I don’t disagree actually. ‘Interesting’ is like the word ‘likable’ to me. What does it mean? What is interesting and who is likable to me may absolutely be repugnant and hated to someone else.

The edict did work, as far as I remember. I think we probably all said ‘interesting’ a lot more at first and then settled into our lives as oh so interesting intellectuals who had the most well thought out and descriptive things to say. 

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Today, I used the word ‘interesting’ at least ten times. About anything. And everything. Everything was either “it’s interesting that” or “it’s funny that.” I caught myself at some point which then meant, of course, that I pointed it out every time it happened.

I didn’t catch it, however, before I gave my early 20-something coworker a lesson on Thomas Cole’s Course of Empire (my favorite set of paintings) and the Hudson River School. How lucky was she??

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Anyway, here’s a picture of a sandworm decoration I made to put above my bathroom. SPOOKY.

1. I don’t remember the choice. It may have been some weird walk I had. Maybe I gave the character an unspoken injury? Who knows?!

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Like…I want someone to know if I throw up but I also don’t. You know?

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