Primo

I decided to spend my day re-watching my favourite 80s movies. I started the marathon with Breakfast Club, where strangely, I still cry when Claire (Molly Ringwald) telling her story. The second movie was Tootsie! Dustin Hoffman really blew my mind with his low voice and extremely pointy nose (and I love Dorothy!) When I was about to browse the third movie, I randomly had this movie called Primo on one of movie channels. So I decided to watch a minute or two, since it was a monologue, I thought I wouldn't enjoy it that much. But then I realize that I watched the whole movie. I watched monologue for one and a half hour, that's totally an achievement. The first monologue movie I had was An Inconvenient Truth. I swear if it wasn't for my school project on global warming, I will never watch that movie. I fell asleep on the first 20 minutes, specifically when Al Gore presenting his charts with his exceptional mini elevator to help him explaining some really tall charts, and it's unimportant (the elevator, I mean, not the charts, I swear.)

So, back to the movie Primo (I'd like to call it a film rather than a movie), I like it very much, I didn't regret accidentally watch the film. Primo is a film about an Italian Jew chemist named Primo Levi, played by Anthony Sher, whose remarkably known in Shakespeare in Love (mentioning this movie makes me having imagination of Fienes brothers in my head, including Ralph -please don't laugh, he really is good looking, I just don't understand why he wanted to be Voldemort.) Sher's monologue really was enjoyable and made me creating my own setting of the film. Like when he said that he was shaved and stripped by the Nazis and forced to put on wooden-soled shoes that really hurt if the prisoners didn't get the right size, I could just imagine himself in a grayish room of a German prison with hundreds of naked and shaved European men and the Nazis keep yelling at them. The sound of cello as the background really mind-blowing. It had sad yet reviving spirits.

I know once that I saw a book about Primo. The book titled If This Was a Man. I was attracted by its story line that it had a people with brains as a prisoner of Nazis. I just knew that this kind of people would make a creative life in his times during being captured by the Germans, that he would survive, not weirdly being beaten to death just because he didn't finish his job in the factory. It is just almost similar to Shawshank Redemption. And it was just like as I thought. He survived the Nazis because he was a chemist and that the Germans needed him in the lab. What makes the whole story interesting is that, he was suffering and yet he still wanted to suffer. I saw him that way. I enjoy the film that way. He never intended to leave, nor to steal some useful things to escape. It was enjoyable for such monologue movies.

more likely

I just got by this term all of the sudden, "if you want people to appreciate your events, you have to appreciate theirs as well." For few events that I had organized, I didn't, for an inch, appreciate my events. I totally feel like a slut. I mean, I have an issue on commitments (of things, not relationships), that I don't think that I should get attached to something that binds me. But something tells me, I have to appreciate it whether I like it or not (well, at least I meet great people.) I just don't get it why should I do that, I mean, I'm doing it for other people, not for myself. I even only get birthday surprise once in my life, when my friends had to care for each other for this 'osjur' thing (sorry, but it seems you guys appeared to be like that to me, you don't care that much about me, do you? More likely you care for the treats I gave.) So, why do I have to care if the events were not made for me? To be honest, accepting the job to organize events, I just want to get busy, and meet new people, creating networks. Well, deep down, I'd really like to be more....approachable. There are times when I just sit there around so many friends, doing nothing, not running into their conversations that I know well what they're talking about, I just don't feel like talking to them explaining everything. Maybe it's because of my commitment issue, that insists me not to trust anyone whose likely to be around temporarily. My friends are temporarily, that's more like it. My bestfriends....not so much to tell. I believe my friends have issues on trusting me. I don't blame them. I don't trust them that much, why should they? I have to fake my kindness and devotions, just to get their attentions that I'm trying not to be a shit on their faces. But it's not working, I believe so. Even when I'm started to organize events just to get busy with other groups of people, I lose my other groups of friends. So, how am I supposed to appreciate other people's events when they don't even count me as a friend? I'm not a social climber, maybe it is, for myself. I once promised myself that I have to be a strong contender for myself, that no one beats me other than me. And now, you know what? Fuck it. Fuck it that I have social issues, fuck it that I have trust issues, fuck it that I have commitment issues, and fuck it that my friends don't even like me for what I am. I just want to keep my friends as they have always been. I just want to have a lot of real friends who know that when I smile I lose my upper lip, that when I panic I scratch my thumbs, or that I don't even like my major. Funny that I trust my Tumblr friend Tina more than my other friends that I have known more than 4 months. I don't wish for Santa to get me a lot of friends, I just hope they appreciate me so I can appreciate others cause the best teacher is experiences, not darned textbooks. Maybe I'm just exaggerating, or maybe I'm just angry. Good day!

new boy

Well, I just randomly ran into this guy's video called "You Need Me, I Don't Need You" and I was blown away by its decency of black and white music video. The guy doing mimics of what the lyrics are saying, but he doesn't move his mouth, that's what I love the most. The guy was expressionless but I, understand what he's trying to say, sort of.

So, move to the guy who sings the song. His name is Ed Sheeran (he's not the one who's in the video, it's a different person, I can tell). I was kind of a bit curious just so I typed his name on Google and I found out that he's born in 1991 just like me. And I was like, 'whaaaat....?? He doesn't look like twenty at all!' His physical appearance looks like Rupert Grint, specifically by his strawberry-blonde hair (he even has the same hairstyle!) I like his voice, he doesn't sound like what he looks like. If you haven't seen his appearance and you listen to his songs, you might project your own sight of his appearance of a tall guy with beards and pointy nose and probably a pair of grey eyes (or green, whatever). Just like Jens Lekman or that other guy besides Erlend Øye in Kings of Convenience. But despite of all the things (mainly his strawberry-blonde hair), I like him. New boy crush! And he's british, I can faint listening to his accents. His gigs were slightly a lot more than James Morrison's and that what made him changing labels from indie to major. Some people compare him to Just Jack. And I have to agree on that though their genres are well, a bit different. But what matters the most, I have something to listen to! 

PS: Today I ate a big burger just because I just watched the episode of How I Met Your Mother where Marshall is on search of his greatest burger on earth in New York. I just couldn't stand Barney's face so I called a delivery of burger with fries and coke. Ain't my fault, right? And also, I watched too much Beyoncé videos until my YouTube account was bored with it.

normally strange

Okay, two posts a day won't hurt. I have few things in mind that normally strange (it's strange in a normal way, not normal in a strange way -like as always). So here goes the list.

1. I learn to type everything in its perfect spelling and writing. Like using capital letters (yay, I just did it!), and less typing rants whenever I switched myself into fast-typing mode. Rants feel good somehow. Like saying fuck is just a typical word of the or it. If rants were people, they're very outgoing persons cause they can be anywhere and people just love it.
2. This morning I just came out with the thought of possibility of other people's interests on pillars. I mean, am I the only person who thinks pillars are that attractive? I just get eyegasms what-so-ever every single time I see pillars. There's something about their tall and stout figures. Even if it's just a small pillars, if it's cylindrical-shaped, I just love it without any background reasons. And I just get worse if it has paintings on it. Slightly scream with no intentions. Anyone here loves pillars as much as I do?
3. There was this word: minx. I know what it means. Though it has the same translations as sluts or whores, but I personally think that minx is a beautiful word. It's like my and jinx mixed into a word then you get a pretty word. Who made that word at first exactly? Didn't he/she have a taste on words that he/she couldn't differ pretty words with literally pretty meanings and ugly words with literally ugly meanings. To me, minx is a pretty word with ugly meanings. Or, can I just change its meaning?
4. I have no taste on music recently. I look into my iPod everyday and people may seem to see my ears are plugged with earphones most of the time, but to tell the truth, I prefer to listen to music because I don't have any conversations to build with people around. It's kind of nice not run into conversations, only if I don't have any particular musics I have to listen to. For the past few weeks, I have nothing to be listened, I just shuffled every playlists and artists, even listening Kasabian won't help, so does browsing mixes on 8tracks. Even worse, I'm not really in the mood of talking with people. Well, I talk to a few, but my few really means a few, it can be counted by fingers. Sometimes I feel like, being a schizophrenic is much better.
5. Okay, let's see. I'm, uh, having a memory lost, sort of. Started from around two weeks ago. I found it hard to recall some actions and memories. I even forgot what I just said just now. Also, people recently said that I'm much more quiet than I usually am, plus, they said sometimes I'm appeared to be...spaced out, like my eyes see nothing or such. I feel fine if I don't get other symptoms like losing hairs and severe coughs. If it happens, then I'm back having brain seizures (it may sound scary, but it's not - well, if you have suffered it since you're 6).
6. Yesterday I found this extra comfortable navy blue Balenciaga knit-sweaters. It was on sale, but still, it costs two Topshop sweatshirts or a pair of Dorothy Perkins jeans. I'm not much of a shopaholic, but I just love that knitwear! I just want to take them home immediately, they looked so comfortable, even when I tried it on, it looked really good on me. Why do everything have to be expensive in my eyes? It seems like everything I like is either expensive or rare, or dead (yeah, you name it: Christopher Reeve, Heath Ledger, John Hughes....blah-blah).
7. It sounded pretty cool when someone told me that I got people talking about my pet plankton. Well, don't get me wrong, I like other pets like cats, dogs, bunnies, or even hamsters. But I'm a -I don't know how to put this into words-  person with a huge interest on fluffy, furry, and eyed things. I love to squeeze those such things, and that would rather kill them instead of making them much cuter. So I just have to find an amazing animal to pet. And I found this plankton kit. It was cool. It was perfect for me. It just have to be fed once a week and no need to wash the tank. For tricks, nah, certainly not I can teach such. You might see my plankton tank here (it's the top part of the tank). My planktons are zooplanktons. The downside is, I can't name them cause there are a lot of them. But other than that, plankton is a nice pet, it's nice cause it's barely do nothing besides going up and down, and I love to sit in front of it, doing nothing but watching.

Might have other thoughts but I forgot it (yea yea). I'll write the others if I have recalled it. Good day!

the lover and the beloved

First of all, love is a joint experience between two persons — but the fact that it is a joint experience does not mean that it is a similar experience to the two people involved. There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries. Often the beloved is only a stimulus for all the stored-up love which had lain quiet within the lover for a long time hitherto. And somehow every lover knows this. He feels in his soul that his love is a solitary thing. He comes to know a new, strange loneliness and it is this knowledge which makes him suffer. So there is only one thing for the lover to do. He must house his love within himself as best he can; he must create for himself a whole new inward world — a world intense and strange, complete in himself. Let it be added here that this lover about whom we speak need not necessarily be a young man saving for a wedding ring — this lover can be man, woman, child, or indeed any human creature on this earth. 

Now, the beloved can also be of any description. The most outlandish people can be the stimulus for love. A man may be a doddering great-grandfather and still love only a strange girl he saw in the streets of Cheehaw one afternoon two decades past. The preacher may love a fallen woman. The beloved may be treacherous, greasy-headed, and given to evil habits. Yes, and the lover may see this as clearly as anyone else — but that does not affect the evolution of his love one whit. A most mediocre person can be the object of a love which is wild, extravagant, and beautiful as the poison lilies of the swamp. A good man may be the stimulus for a love both violent and debased, or a jabbering madman may bring about in the soul of someone a tender and simple idyll. Therefore, the value and quality of any love is determined solely by the lover himself. 

It is for this reason that most of us would rather love than be loved. Almost everyone wants to be the lover. And the curt truth is that, in a deep secret way, the state of being beloved is intolerable to many. The beloved fears and hates the lover, and with the best of reasons. For the lover is forever trying to strip bare his beloved. The lover craves any possible relation with the beloved, even if this experience can cause him only pain.

dreams

I, uh, just can't get off this weird images going in my mind. Currently I'm doing this computation homework sort of thing and I'm tempted to write about my somewhat-whimsical dreams (how I wish my homework's as easy as writing).


So my first dream is this little girl. she appeared 3 days in-a-row. In my dreams she helped me carrying my flowers (?) and that one of my relatives died in my dreams (this is scary). this girl, I don't know, she was like, quiet and subtle. She didn't say much, she's even expressionless. She had this long dark brown hair, looked like she's 10 or so, and I remember she always wore this soft pink dress with white ribbons and black mary jane shoes with laced white socks. The first day she appeared to be helpful, she helped me with my relatives' funeral and sat still for the whole day. The second day she appeared to be angry at people, she threw foods and I just let the foods scattered everywhere. I didn't scold her, I felt like she needed to be angry. The third day, she.....I don't know how to say it in appropriate words, but she's bleeding, all over her body, and she said something about me forgetting the most important thing about her. I was like, whaaaaat....?? I didn't even know her, how do I recall things I forgot about her? Then she cried in a weird voice, and came out of nowhere, there was this small dagger in my clutch, I was scared of her so I threw the dagger and she disappeared like dusts. Okay, I admit these dreams are one of my nightmares. I still have flashes of images of this girl. I don't know who is she or how did I create such creatures.


Move on to the second dream, it was a hole. Literally a hole. I thought it wasn't me in that dream, I was a spider or an ant or such insects, because I didn't walk or run, I was creeping and crawling on walls near the hole. This hole was perfectly round, with a vertical dark tunnel before it. From afar I could see the light at the end of the tunnel, shone through the hole. But when I crept closer to this hole, no lights were existed. It was a mirror, reflecting the lights from the other side of the tunnel. I tried to punch the mirror for I couldn't breathe with my insect hands, and then the mirror broke. I fell down and I saw........a graveyard, and then I woke up. I don't know how this dream has connection with my life. Never in my life I've been in a graveyard, a beautiful graveyard with lots of statues. I only see it on movies/tv shows/pictures, so that doesn't even count.


And then the last dream was the shortest dream. I was accidentally fallen asleep while texting. I dreamed of a dungeon. In the dungeon, there was this huge troll. It was sitting on a this huge log that looked like someone made it into a set of chairs (so it's probably a sofa-log, haha). I was in front of it, staring and tracing its body with my eyes. But then suddenly it stood up, and it TICKLED me! I swear this one's was scary since I'm an extremely ticklish person. I thought I almost died in there, I couldn't feel anything and all I thought my body was ripped off from this giant's tickles. A total nightmare and it happened just by an hour of sleep. Gosh. I still have a lot of weird dreams (and it's getting weirder and weirder, I've dreamed of me being a psycho murderer), but I guess that's all I can write for now. Nightmares were the most amusing thing of sleeping. I like nightmares better than sweet dreams. It feels like you can create something awful with your minds and that's awesome and no one's complaining but you. have a good week!