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      Why do we dream of supernatural, unconventional lives, lives that often lack realism and are merely used as a warm blanket to cover us during the cold moments of loneliness? Is imagination merely a way to escape our day to day routine, to escape what we don't want to cope with, a way to comfort ourselves? Is it more? How can it be interpreted?
     I started telling myself a modern fairytale yesterday, about a girl named Ruth. Ruth is an ordinary girl-or is she not? Suddenly, Ruth can see things others can't, she grows, and she faces her fears and hopes. Ruth is no longer ordinary. 
    Everybody is extraordinary, in their ordinary lives. That is what we tell ourselves. Mothers constantly assure their children that they are special, in some way. We grow up reading stories about heroes that are ordinary-at least at first-or that were always extraordinary. We wish to convince ourselves that each and every one of us is. Some can even experience it in truth; they might be artists, or geniuses at the top of their field. From the first time that humans lived in a civilized society, they have tried to create monuments, tributes to their existence, so that they are remembered, and looked up to with awe. It is one of the greatest fears in the human psyche. living with this ever changing crowd of people who could be just like  you-who live and think and dream the same way that you do, who will be there to replace you when you are no longer strong, young, and useful. Old people like to reminisce and cling to their outdated way of life and thought because they have realised that the world has passed them by. As our lives go on, we all dream about being extraordinary, so much so that the world will want to keep our presence, even after we are gone. 
    My thoughts are my own, my personality, my background is different from anyone else's. Even siblings, who have so much in common, can be as different as night and day. However, what can assure us that we are the first to have thought something, felt something, seen something? Every single snowflake is different, after all, but in the end they just comprise a cold white mass, shovelled out of the way. Maybe every single one of us is like a string, decorated with a different bead for each memory, thought, feeling. Maybe we carry identical beads, placed differently on our string. Every single string is unique, at first because of  the way the beads are placed on it, and then grows even more so, as each influence and thought helps us evolve and grow even farther away from others.
    If we are all so different, why is everything-books, dreams, thoughts, ideologies-massively produced? Is our humanity the common factor that makes us all cry and laugh and fear at the same things? We live in a world where fairytales are the main product to cultivate-we laugh at ourselves for liking them, we consider them our "guilty pleasures", but still, if they were more realistic, we would be dissappointed. If we wanted to be let down by reality, we could just look at our lives and the lives of those around us, and not be lured into a dark theater, sit next to malodorous people, pay close to 10 euros for hours of entertainment,  and succumb to the lure of pop corn and other nasty, delicious snacks. Movies and books represent the lives we wish we were living-but we don't. We know that. Yet, we dream about it.

It's an endless circle.


Today, I was writing an email to a friend of mine, with whom I haven't talked in a while, and as I was watching my brightly painted fingernails in contrast with the black writing pad of my laptop, I thought about how sad it is that laziness, lack of communication, and, most of all, pride has caused me to distance myself from so many people that could have really been there for me, as I would have been there for them. I think that that is the reason why I decided to create a livejournal account; I wanted to have someone new to talk to, someone to whom I could relate. I have stubbornly refused to create a facebook account; I have the feeling that it is too much about social networking, adding people you don't really care about-or know- as friends, and just letting them be a part of your list. So this is my goal for the rest of the year 2009: I will try to maintain whatever friendships from school are redeemable, and I will also try to make new friends-on line or off- and be a relatively good friend(which means that I won't send an email once every two months, but more often)

well, to do that, I'll actually have to look for friends out there-I've gotten a little rusty- and, in the end, I'll probably give in and create a facebook account. oh well, that's life


Terminator:The Salvation review

this text contain spoilers and has been written by a person who is not a member of the terminator cult.

Well, Hollywood has done it again. they have created a mediocre to bad movie, comprised by very well paid actors(ie. Christian Bale) and extremely good visual effects.. and nothing more.

well, let's not think of the glass as half-empty. Let me start with what I did like in this movie.
I did like Helena Bonham Carter. because this woman is simply wonderful.
I liked Sam Worthington's character, in the sense that he created a little suspense in this boring and somewhat predictable scenario. is he a machine? isn't he a machine? is he going to suddenly turn terminator and kill everyone? isn't he?
I liked Anton Yelchin in general. the man is a quite good actor, as far as I can tell, and he is also pretty good looking.
I liked Star. she had the biggest brown eyes, and I just wanted to take her home and cuddle her.
I also liked the relationship between Kyle and Star. I liked how much he cared about her.

Now, I didn't like several things:
First and foremost was John Connor. The whole 'I am the savior of the human race, bow to me, unworthy creatures' got a tad bit old.
Another one was that while Kate seemed a very interesting and dynamic character in the third terminator movie(the only other terminator movie that I've seen), here she was just John Connor's wife, standing next to him, and not taking an extremely active part.
I didn't like how Christian Bale made his voice all..hoarse and breathy, for lack of better word. It was probably an attempt to seem more macho, but it was just annoying.
lastly, I found those 'I-want-to-say-something-impressive' lines, such as 'I'm coming for you' unoriginal, and useless. I also thought that it was pretty ridiculous, when, after an entire conversation with Marcus, John Connor suddenly had the urge to yell 'what are you?', so we could make the whole scene seem more dramatic.
I'd also like to know why the machines made themselves human-like, when they could have used much more useful shapes.

Mainly, I think that I laughed while I was watching terminator more than I do while watching comedies. It might be so because my friends and I just found it all ridiculous; the highlights of the movie were Arnold Schwarzenegger suddenly appearing to kick the shit out of Christian Bale, and Christian Bale's attempt to revive Marcus by punching him on the chest and using wires to jump start his heart. Also funny were his 'come on!' yells. And the fact that the machines NEVER DIE!!!

Thankfully, we went to a late showing of the movie, and some people around us laughed as well... And we also left fast enough to avoid whoever was such a terminator fanatic, that he wanted to find us and beat us within an inch of our lives for ruining the experience.

Now, I realize that some of you might disagree with my opinion of the movie, but please do so through constructive criticism. If you cannot do that, just know that I won't answer your comments.

first entry!

well, I am going to be very original and talk about how this is my very first entry here at livejournal.

at least that is what I wrote as the subject.. I was never good at staying inside the lines, anyway.

this will probably be the most boring journal ever written on this site-I usually can't bother to keep a diary/blog/journal updated all the time. I'll probably drop a couple of lines once in a while about things that interest me.

oh, well, maybe I'll succeed if I consciously make an effort.


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