So much yummy food there is
in my tummy, how I wish
there was none 'cause then, you see,
more food I could put in me.
Sometimes when I write here, I think, this is really egocentric. Like, the most self-centered thing ever. I'm writing whatever shit is on my brain, and expect other people to read it. Why would I do that? Who the hell do I think I am? I don't even write about something relevant, like human rights or war or Britney Spear's newest meltdown.
Then I think, if people don't want to read, they can leave.
That would admittedly leave me without readers, worst case scenario. It would make me a person writing only to myself, which sounds kind of sad... but I just realized that that was what I was doing before blogs existed.
Current shit on my brain: want a hug. Not just any hug. The hug. Also, want my Dong Bang Shin Ki concert DVD. I hope it ships really quickly. I let Sara and Kat have the tv for an entire day with their concert, quiet as a mouse, so that when it comes, I can conscience-free demand Kat to extend me the same courtesy. I am such a scheming little... ^^
Just watched The Nines, because I wanted to see Ryan Reynolds in a movie where he has actual lines and does some actual acting. It has bad scores on IMDB, and those are earned, it's not a good movie. But I was impressed with Reynolds.
The flaws of the movie I choose to blame on a shaky script, that would have made a better book, and repeatedly bad choices of camera angles. Also I hated Hope Davis, who is the second leading lady, and this movie really only has three roles in it. So yeah.
Not that I saw this movie because it would be good, so on to what I actually cared about. Basically, the movie is split in three parts and Reynolds play different people in those parts. And I was impressed, because those are really different people. The small things people do, subconscious gestures or way of speech or the way they move their faces, actors keep those throughout roles to varying degrees and with varying results. Worst examples that comes to mind would be Hugh Grant and Will Smith, best example Johnny Depp. I'm sure Reynolds have those too - everyone does - but in this movie he managed to get a very impressive amount of them under control. I felt like he was different people, and I tend to give actors a hard time about that.
I'm going to stop here before I repeat the word "impressive" too many times and embarrass myself.
I have good hopes for Deadpool. But sorry, Ryan, no matter how esthetically pleasing your face may be, and however good you are at making sad faces, I will still kill someone if you get to keep it in that movie.
Oh, oh, and also, I retract any previous statement I might have made of Jake Gyllenhaal as the Prince of Persia. In fact, I regret them and apologize for them. He was prefect. Although he did make the baby-face (you know, the eyebrows go up, the lower lip comes out, eyes bear a striking resemblance to a 90yo lady about to cry, and he goes from unconventional hunk to baby bloodhound) at least once, the presence of Arms and Cool Acrobatics and also New Fancy Accent (yes I'm a sucker for voices) saved his charm roll. Someone probably told him that pouting and making puppy-eyes isn't befitting of a war-prince of the Persian empire. Thank you, that person.
"What is the difference between a hydrocarbon and an alcohol?"
"Hydrocarbons don't cause car crashes."
On a completely different note:
Korean and Japanese are apparantly a "close-surface languages" pair. What does that mean? Swedish and Norwegian weren't taken up as examples, while Hindi - Urdu and Indonesian - Malayan were, so is it about pronounciation? Grammar? Whatever it is, I have yet to find a single word in Korean that is the same as one in Japanese, or even seems vaguely similar. I am admittedly not an expert on either language, far from, but considering I'm studying their most basic words, like "hello" or "cat" or "I am", then... if only the advanced words like, I dunno, "exoskeleton" are the same, I wouldn't call them similar languages. "No" in Japanese means "yes" in Korean, for crying out loud. Maybe it is that they have approximately the same sounds in their language? But so does Swedish - Japanese, right?
Swim down into the deep seas. Take your last breath and plummet downwards, listen to the silence and your own pulse, feel the water flow between your fingers. It does not fight you, although it might feel like it is pushing you up. It is only your own body, the air in your lungs. The deep dark does not repel. It engulfs.
Search the endless for the fears inside your head. Let the pressure of the unexplored depths harden you. Absorb the darkness, grow a part of the silence. Let go of the air in your lungs, and sink. Feel the cold of the ocean envelop you, like the warmth of a womb.
And be reborn the monster you were looking for. Become what you were meant to be. Return to the surface world with all of your fears embodied in you. The world where everyone wears the skin of what they should be over the true form that they try to forget.
Darkness cannot reach you as little as sunlight can burn the sun. Make your path, like all monsters do. Cut down the shrubbery, keep the flowers you like. There is no shame among monsters. Respect and honor is what you make it. Monsters, are what you make them. Try it. Taste it. Feel it. Smile with bright white fangs in the dark.
Life is too short. Rather be the monster than run from it.
And so it has begun, once again.
Sun and heat and wind and bugs and clouds and rain and grass and dirt and gravel and leaves and cold and light and stuff.
Dogshit and catpee and birdcrap and mosquitos and beetles and flies and worms and fish and mud and cows and horses and ugly little dogs, beavers and cranes and birdsong at 5 A.M.
Shorts and sandals and sunbathing and swimming in dirty lakes, hot sand and sticky sand and pine needles and picnics and blankets and grilling and midsummer and the Swedish population spontaneously lobotomizing away why the fuck we built houses in the first place.
Shit and crap and living bugs blowing into anything you try to eat outside, but why the flying fuck would you eat it outside in the first place.
Dead rats rotting in the sun beneath quivering, damp, choking air.
Unless if by blessing the temperature manages to hit that magic perfect where it's not too hot, not too cold, and nobody whines about either. When it might be bearable. But then someone's bugging the shitting crapmonkies out of me trying to force me outside by sheer power of Joker-smiling retardedness. There are starving children! Melting glaciers! War! Turn your attention to something else than my relative location to roofs, please. Why not to this sun-thing, that you can't shut up about.
Hello and gtfo.