Feb 13, 2009 11:27
i.
Perhaps life was physically taxing half a century ago. A hundredfold more so than it is today. I do not refute your recollections of youth. But surely it could not have been much more emotionally exhausting than this. I'm not sure you fully comprehend the decision-making processes, the expectations and all the learned influences that need to be faced by an adolescent growing up in a cross-cultural context. I don't think you understand at all. There you go with your wise-ass comments and witty remarks, slagging off at my traditions, my values and my somewhat restricted (but continually expanding) freedom. There's a little word known as ignorance, and I personally believe you're full of it. I think we all are.
You think it's so fucking easy; that it's just a matter of being like: 'Hey, I'm twenty years old, I'm an adult, an individual, I should be allowed to do whatever it is I fucking want'. It really, really isn't. Challenging my childhood values is a difficult process. You’ll never quite understand, because you’re not me and it's impossible to empathise with something so deeply personal. Empathy is never what it’s made out to be. I have to do what is right - not because I feel like I'm obliged to (although that definitely plays a part), but because I want to. But what is right? I'm not sure if we are born with an innate sense of what is wrong or right, but it doesn't even matter. Morals and ethics are largely influenced by what we learn as we are growing up. What is the best possible outcome for all parties involved? A decision doesn't just involve thinking about yourself. There are many, many strings attached.
It could be simple. It could be simple if I don't challenge anything, if I follow the rules, if I do exactly what I'm told and act upon what is apparently the right thing to do. But I really can't. I want to choose. I want to challenge. Question. Establish myself. Push the damn envelope. Hell, I could tell you about all the clichés I've managed to embody and my self-inflicted disbeliefs. I could try to explain my propensity to be changeable, but you would never understand. Just like I would never understand why it is exactly that you like the things you do, or think the way you do, or falter the way you do. You could try to explain it to me, but I would never be able to grasp the entirety of who you are. I know you too well, but I don't know you at all. I don't even know myself. I sit here everyday, recording my recollections of youth and life, trying to find some semblance of an identity. But I find nothing. Is identity just a fleeting idea?
Even those who seem to lead unassuming lives have more than we give them credit for. It’s easy to take strangers at face value. It is also important to understand that you would be a fool to assume that is all there is to them.
You know nothing.
ii.
Why does it take something traumatic to kick us into gear and realise how precious every single moment is? Whatever. It's a cliché. Fuck you too. Sometimes we're really dumb and we have inhibitions. Where do these inhibitions come from? WHERE DO THESE INHIBITIONS COME FROM?
iii.
Film critics are incredibly full of themselves. I don't think they have a single original thought in their heads. What was that quote? Film critics are just bitter failed actors (or film directors). I can't remember the quote word for word, and Google is being highly unhelpful, or maybe I'm just not trying hard enough. I think a large percentage of them suffer from some sort of pseudo-mental variety of the Napoleon complex. They fall short in talent and fail to become a face in the entertainment industry, and so they spend the rest of their lives trying to overcompensate their failures by pursuing a sort of smug, holier-than-thou superiority in critiquing. Yeah, like we care about your opinions. Sure there are some really great film critics, who write hilariously clever, witty reviews, but they are few and rare. My problem is with the remaining 98.73%.
I absolutely cannot stand reading reviews that claim chick flicks (romantic comedies) portray a "shallow, sitcom view of complex human interactions". I mean what / the / fuck. I want to stomp right up to these critics, grab their shoulders, shake them and yell "DUH!" in their faces. Way to state the obvious. Way to have nothing to say and just spew out some generic comment about how clichéd and unrealistic chick flicks are. Oh my fucking god. As if the greater public didn't know that already.
Let me give you an example. A film called He's Just Not That Into You recently hit the cinemas, and needless to say, over fifty-percentage of the reviews for this film have been negative. I don't know if you have heard of this film, but there's been a million previews for it on television lately. It's based on a book written by two collaborating authors - a man and a woman. It was featured on Oprah awhile ago. I distinctively remember this because I never watch Oprah, but this one time that I did, she was talking to the authors of this book. Apparently the book was inspired by an episode of Sex and the City. Ah-huh. Do I see some rolling of the eyes? Well, whaddya know! The world of love, lust, he-said/she-said, women are from venus/men are from mars, dating games and sex - as portrayed by popular culture - is a vicious cycle that recycles the same material over, and over. And over. DUH.
I don't know why film critics feel the need to reiterate that point for every single chick flick. Nobody actually takes advice from these films, or self-help books, or whatever. Well, I hope nobody is dumb enough to do that. The silver screen glamourises real life, reuses old clichés, employ less-than-original plots and stereotype their characters. DUH. DUH. DUH! Practically the entire chick flick/romantic comedy genre, ever, is built on using different parts of the same routine story and variations of the same four or five female/male stereotypes all mashed into one. That's the whole fucking idea of the genre! It's supposed to be predictable. It's supposed to make you cringe and roll your eyes. It's supposed to be inane and ever so slightly demeaning to the genders (or a lot demeaning).
It doesn't take a genius film critic to figure that out. I wish they would quit stating the obvious. We know what to expect when we walk into a chick flick. Feminist critics need to get over themselves and get a sense of humour and stop being so uptight, and male critics need to stop being old men. For fuck's sake.
notes
This is my 400th post :)
It's Friday the 13th, darlings.
It's also exactly a month until my 21st.
musings,
creative writing