Noelle Quotes in It’s Kind of a Funny Story
“I have to have surgery to clear them up. You think I should?”
“No. Why hide what you’ve been through?”
“I don’t know if that’s really a question. It’s too obvious. Wouldn’t I be happier without scars?”
“I don’t know. It’s tough to tell what would make you happy. I thought I’d be happier in a really tough high school, and I ended up here.”
It’s depressing, though. I mean, this room is what I expect a mental hospital to look like. Adults reduced to children, sitting with finger paints; a jolly supervisor telling them that everything they do is great.
“You don’t want any of your Anchors being members of the opposite sex you’re attracted to,” Dr. Minerva says. “Relationships change even more than people. It’s like two people changing. It’s exponentially more volatile. Especially two teenagers.”
“You were the one who suggested I do stuff from childhood,” I continue. “I used to do these when I was a kid, and I forgot how fun they were.”
“So now,” I continue, “instead of a quarter-life crisis they’ve got a fifth-life crisis—that’s when you’re eighteen—and a sixth-life crisis—that’s when you’re fourteen. I think that’s what a lot of people have.”
“What you have.”
“Not just me. It’s the . . . um . . . should I keep going?”
“Yes,” Noelle says.
“Well, there are lot of people who make a lot of money off the fifth- and sixth-life crises. All of a sudden they have a ton of consumers scared out of their minds and willing to buy facial cream, designer jeans, SAT test prep courses, condoms, cars, scooters, self-help books, watches, wallets, stocks, whatever … all the crap that the twenty-somethings used to buy, they now have the ten-somethings buying. They doubled their market!”
Noelle Quotes in It’s Kind of a Funny Story
“I have to have surgery to clear them up. You think I should?”
“No. Why hide what you’ve been through?”
“I don’t know if that’s really a question. It’s too obvious. Wouldn’t I be happier without scars?”
“I don’t know. It’s tough to tell what would make you happy. I thought I’d be happier in a really tough high school, and I ended up here.”
It’s depressing, though. I mean, this room is what I expect a mental hospital to look like. Adults reduced to children, sitting with finger paints; a jolly supervisor telling them that everything they do is great.
“You don’t want any of your Anchors being members of the opposite sex you’re attracted to,” Dr. Minerva says. “Relationships change even more than people. It’s like two people changing. It’s exponentially more volatile. Especially two teenagers.”
“You were the one who suggested I do stuff from childhood,” I continue. “I used to do these when I was a kid, and I forgot how fun they were.”
“So now,” I continue, “instead of a quarter-life crisis they’ve got a fifth-life crisis—that’s when you’re eighteen—and a sixth-life crisis—that’s when you’re fourteen. I think that’s what a lot of people have.”
“What you have.”
“Not just me. It’s the . . . um . . . should I keep going?”
“Yes,” Noelle says.
“Well, there are lot of people who make a lot of money off the fifth- and sixth-life crises. All of a sudden they have a ton of consumers scared out of their minds and willing to buy facial cream, designer jeans, SAT test prep courses, condoms, cars, scooters, self-help books, watches, wallets, stocks, whatever … all the crap that the twenty-somethings used to buy, they now have the ten-somethings buying. They doubled their market!”
