If you’d told me two weeks ago that Jed’s work ethic would lead to his death … I totally would have believed you.
It’s just the way that his work ethic led to his death that was surprising.
I figured he would have had a heart attack from all of the stress from all of the projects that he took on. I mean, that’s what happened to his friend not so long ago. He took on so much in his life that he suffered from a near-fatal heart attack as a result. All I can say is that it’s a good job that he had access to some refurbished AED devices in the place where he was, otherwise I could be telling you a different story.
Even though stress is not a direct link to a heart attack occurring, it can lead to unhealthy habits that could have a direct effect, like drinking too much alcohol, smoking, and eating food that is high in sugar and fat. That’s why I was worried about Jed’s stress levels. No one wants to see him have a heart attack.
See, Jed was always doing something. You know, multitasking.
Before we start, I’d like to say something that might surprise you.
I know that I make fun of a lot of actors and actresses (especially Nicolas Cage and Katherine Heigl, who are both just awful awful awful actors). And Matt Damon is a common target among movie critics, critics of actors, or just people-critics in general.
But I actually like him as an actor.
Shocking, I know.
I’d also like to take a moment to warn you about spoilers ahead. But like most movies of its kind, if you saw the preview for We Bought a Zoo, you saw the whole damn movie.
And you know it.
Go ahead. I encourage you to watch the preview. Even if you have seen it before, watch it again:
In just two minutes, you know the entire plot of the movie. You know all of the characters and what they stand for. You know that it is going to have a happy ending and that every single character will work out their problems by the end of the film. Not only that, but you have also just heard all of the critical lines in the movie.
I work with a diverse group of people at my new job, which is a good thing.
But I have recently found myself in the break room with a group of people that I cannot understand. Whether they speak Spanish, Chinese, or some Russian dialect, they always seem to congregate around me and speak with each other in their native tongue.
Now, maybe I am paranoid, but whenever I am just sitting there, innocently eating my sandwich, I can’t help but think that they are talking about me. Whether they are criticizing my personality, my looks, or the way I eat my sandwich, one thing is certain: they are speaking in another language, not because it is more comfortable for them, but so that they can encode their shit-talking from me.