&

This is a conversation I had a while ago:

Me: I’m thinking about things I can do for fun.
Person I know who is smart, level-headed and not impulsive like me: Oh, like a hobby?
Me: No. Like law school!
Him: Why? Do you want to be a lawyer?
Me: Oh, no way. Him: Then, why would you think about going to law school?
Me: To prove to people I’m not as dumb as they all think I am.
Him: So, spite. You’d be going to law school for spite.
Me: Yeah!

As yet, I have not applied to law school. But, if I ever do, and if I ever go, this is 100% the reason. This is 100% the reason I do a lot of things. Spite. And to prove I’m not as (insert negative thing here) as people think I am. I finished undergrad in three-and-a-half-years, to prove it wasn’t a fluke that I started college at 17. I was a journalism major to spite a high school teacher that said I was a terrible writer. I went to graduate school because my friends thought I couldn’t. I moved to D.C. because I didn’t think I could. I’ll even do stuff just to spite myself. The easiest way to get me to do something — and do it better than anybody else, or at least to do more, go farther, work harder, do whatever it takes — is just to let me think you doubt I can. Forget it. I’ll do dumb stuff. I’ll do stuff I don’t even really want to do, just to say hey, guess you thought wrong, huh?

Except for two years while I was in DC working in media/communication professionally, I have been constantly involved in scholastic journalism (either as a student on staff of a school publication, a student studying journalism or an adviser) since 1994, when I worked on the staff of the student newspaper at my middle school in seventh grade. It’s 2011 now. I have done this for more than half of my life. And I believe I recall someone telling me, back then, in sixth grade or so, that the journalism classes were tough to get into, and I might not make the cut. But I did.

It’s not necessarily a good quality, especially not combined with my unyielding stubbornness, but so far it’s led to positive accomplishments. Hopefully it will lead to a lot more.

Note: No matter what, no matter if he just recycled every single joke for the rest of his career and never really wrote anything new, he’d still be one of the greatest writers, of any kind/genre/mode, alive today. End of story. Dude is one talented MF.

So, I finally got around to watching “The Social Network” eight months after its release. It was pretty much what I expected, as I read magazines like “Entertainment Weekly” and some tv/movie blogs. I’ve also seen other David Fincher movies and other movies and tv shows written by Aaron Sorkin, and I’m a fairly adept reader/watcher of popular media.

There was one thing that surprised me that I didn’t expect, but should have known to expect: Aaron Sorkin recycles his own jokes. In his defense, they’re great jokes, but to the gluttonous consumer of his writing, it’s pretty obvious since they’re such great jokes.

Specifically, there’s a joke from “Sports Night” where Jeremy is winning tremendously at poker and informs Natalie she’ll be living on a charitable donation of the Jeremy Goodwin foundation if she loses, which Eduardo* makes in the film while he’s the only investor in the company. It’s a pretty good line, and it’s clever and funny both times.

Also, specifically, there’s a joke from “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip” where Tom says he could buy his parents’ house and turn it into his ping pong room. Mark says nearly the same thing about a Harvard final club. It’s a pretty good line, but tough to believe either character (Tom from “Studio 60″ or fake/real Mark Zuckerberg) having (or wanting) a ping pong room.

These are funny jokes. And they’re good writing. But something about it rubs me the wrong way. Yes, I understand the viewership of both “Sports Night” and “Studio 60″ was small, and probably way small compared to how many people saw “The Social Network” and wouldn’t have a chance to hear that joke otherwise.

But, a small part of me has this feeling like when you laugh too hard at your own jokes, or when you tell a joke a few times at a party, but to different groups of people, trying to show everyone how funny you are.

Aaron, you’re funny. I admire you as a writer more than any other writer. I’m sure you can come up with 10,000 new jokes that are just as good, or better, than recycled jokes. You can do better, and frankly, as a large-scale consumer of your writing, I deserve better.

*Where did this adorable actor person Andrew Garfield come from? Somebody put him in my purse at once.