I'm not sure what's causing this ennui.
Maybe it's because I'm suck in a factory. And will be for the next few hours. With people that don't care about be. (Likewise then.) Doing something I don't really want to do.
Maybe it's because I had to have lunch alone. And it was way too short. I want to just go back and read more.
Maybe it's because I have a crush and it looks like it's not going anywhere. Either he's uninterested, or oblivious. Or maybe he doesn't even live up to my fantasies and ideals anyway.
And I hate complaining. I hate my weaknesses and faults. I don't know where to spill that toxicity anymore. I generally don't want to show it to anyone. It's ugly. And it tires out the other person. I can see them dismissing it, being disgusted by it. I don't need that. I just need to let it out of my system so I can throw it away. So I can keep working. I would be able to keep on being optimistic and dreamy and shameless in pursuit of living.
But here I am. Vomit vomit.
I want to get out of here.
Her story is interesting. It's just some (now) 16 year old ingénue that wrote a song and it became the hit beat of the world. Her year was 2013, where she was first heard and exploded to view in the eye of the masses, garnering on air repeats reserved for pop stars. And thus, she became one too.
The Wolf of Wall Street
This movie is hard to watch without flinching.
It might have something to do with the fact that I am relatively sheltered. I am not and will not be in the high society circles. I am not a party person either. But the things that Leonardo Di Caprio does in the movie, well, shocks me very much.
I am at the same time pretty open about these things. But, wow! At the rate the movie is implying, it's jaw dropping and, to a certain extent, unfathomable. It's sick, at the same time, seductive. That guy was in love with his world that was dripping with money. He wanted to stay there. And the fervour of the people around him that wanted money with him, that wanted sex with him, was foolish and appalling. It was a sick movie. It was a hilarious movie. It was a seat gripping movie.
I wonder if there are people that are actually living like that. I think so. It's a totally different world out there.
Aside from the drugs, sex and booze. I thought it was a brilliant story of a guy turned from rags to riches. A story of Wall Street, where people dabbled investments and won big, ludicrously. A world full of men, full of selling, full of smart talking geniuses and girls merely trophies. Not everyone was allowed in there. And I'm glad to say, I don't want to be there.
A boat would be nice though.
Third Star
I have a lot to say about Third Star. I'll be more eloquent about it, because it should receive a more eloquent treatment.
I digress.
First off, would you look at the cast? It's Benedict Cumberbatch and JJ Fields! Everyone understands why Cumberbatch though. He's a darling of a massive fandom. I like him for his wit, how he manages to hold a certain level of sarcasm and dryness, and, at times, drollness. I like him because he's very smart. His voice has drowned many a girl's senses. I've heard him attributed to being classy, or bringing a level of class to whatever he does, whatever he wears. He does have a sort or regal bearing, a countenance that hints that he's a strong guy and he's not willing to back down if he doesn't want to. JJ Fields I adore almost purely for his smile and the way he spoke the lines of Mr Henry Tilney of Northanger Abbey. I adore his Mr Tilney. He is sarcastic and mischievous. He rolls his eyes at affectations, and performs them in mockery. I think he lifted Austenland for me. That movie turned out to be quite a bore.
Back to point! Third Star!
The story itself is a bit of a mind-blower. It's a final camping trip of 4 friends, one of which who has cancer. They decide to go with him on a toboggan-like wheelchair with lots of camping things and medicine and stuff. But instead of a jolly trip to the beach it turned into an emotional nightmare, with lies unfurling, soul searching, pain and beautiful adventure. I liked the camaraderie between the 4 boys. I also liked how they had to help carry the guy. And despite the rage and the emotions, I really felt like they loved each other. And that's an awesome thing to glimpse at.
The third star to the right, straight on till morning.
After the Dark
This is an odd little movie. A philosophy class contemplating the end of the world in Indonesia.
It is nuclear explosions, and there are only 10 spaces in the bunker. There are 21 people. How would you logically assign the value of who gets to be the seed of humanity a year of the nuclear war?
The class itself is strange, being a set of highly attractive people and set in a beautiful somewhere building in Indonesia. And this philosophy teacher is brutal. He kills off his students as if it were nothing. Shattering their equilibrium in the mind experiments. And the setting of these experiments are beautiful idealizations and it is the focus of the story. The show doesn't have time to develop the characters very much. And the final answer is still somewhat mind boggling. At the same time, it would take time for you to realize the twist in the tale. You are reminded that there are two sides to a story, that a lot of things happen because of hidden intentions, and that there is more than what lies on the surface of anything.
I like being mindblown.
Secretary
This is an unexpected gem.
It starts with a quip of how before there was Christian Grey (of 50 Shades of Grey) there was E. Edward Grey of Secretary.
And my oh my, this one blew the other out of the water. It's a story that is more than what it seems. What is seems like is a secretary/boss romance with a turn toward s&m. What it actually is, is in fact, a love story of two people who are pretty messed up.
I like it. It is a brave movie, that embraces the unspeakable and turns it into a tale of hope.
And they lived happily ever after.
Sometimes when I read back what I wrote and I think, "Gosh, I sound like a pretentious bastard."
And if the way I write is how I think. And if the way I think is how I write then how I speak sounds like how I write too.
Which means that it might sound like utter garbage too.
But it's alright. If I ever want to be a write I have to keep on writing, don't I? And if everything sounds bad in the beginning, I know that I can keep on working on it and someday, it would be good, no? I should also keep an eye on these punctuations and tenses. I should try and make stuff work worth reading and share it to the rest of the world. Only then would my genius be recognized and I'd be paid to do the amazing job of writing...
But for now, it's a good thing nobody is reading.
It's akin to dancing around naked in your room. Allowing myself to flex and flounder and rage and emote without judgement. Stretching my metaphorical story limbs in my mind. Reaching within for subjects and random vocabulary that pops out like mismatched socks in an upturned room.
I think it's potentially really scary because it's all entirely possible. This is how our future could be with everyone politely on their machines look away from you and feel more through that than through any interactions you have with them.
There is only one of you. And you only get to be here for a limited amount of time.
Today, I talked to my house-mate, the lady at the bar, the man at the stage, the mamak guy who took my order, my char kuey tiow guy, and the two shisha guys. That makes 7 people. Which was a lot more than I expected to find for the day. Honestly, it felt like I talked to nobody.
