Lost Series Finale Review (unedited; spoilers)

In the following moments after the finale, I found myself in a state of anxiety, frustration, exhaustion. Both my boyfriend and friend who were watching it with me seemed confused but were exclaiming their appreciation for it. As always, my expectations and desires make everything so hard. I might swear off watching television shows where no clear cut ending can be established ahead of time. As we know, Lost had to adapt to many changes in the cast and audience reactions (commendable still), but it meant some of the questions built up would remain unsolved or “left up to interpretation." Finally I thought all the anticipation, all the pondering and theorizing would be finished. 

Ties that Bind

I hear of so many young adults with the ability to pick up and leave, travel to a foreign country surviving off only what they can find and work briefly for. This impulsive adventuring has great appeal to me. Graduating from college would seem the ideal time to take said adventure: no ties, no career or family yet begun, no house to pay off or maintain; all the freedom possible to explore new places, test my limits and skills of survival, learn my mental capacity, discover what I really want from life. Too often have my thoughts wandered to the excitement such a choice would bring, and I long to satisfy the craving for real freedom I have sought all my youth.

Fur Coats

It's really funny to see hair shedding off my dog when I pet him.
It's not funny when he wants to climb on me while he's shedding.
Nice work clothes cease being nice.
I want him off so I push him,
thus unhinging more fur!
I could make a coat out of his loose fur.
Hmm...

Sister Experiment

It began as a simple invite on Facebook, which I typically ignore, and has developed into a frustrated attempt at clarifying my point. The three sentence explanation of the event was enough to warrant frustration, but the mob mentality of those who joined elicited outright disgust. Woman across the internets rebelled against the man by exposing their flesh in what has been dubbed the Boobquake experiment. This event arose in response to the declaration by an Iranian cleric that recent quakes and threats of more in their region are due to women's immodesty (click here for original article). Feminists jumped to the frontlines to combat these apparent fear tactics to keep women in-line. Some participants are regarding it as harmless fun, others are avidly opposed to any comment which seems to teeter toward being against the movement, deeming it blasphemous to feminism and free society. I am of course referring to the responses I received against my critical analysis of the event. I assure you I maintain similar values regarding female pride and freedom from male oppression in all its forms, but my dispute is specifically aimed at the method of the movement as posted on facebook (must have account to view).

Kick-Ass Review (R)

If you are between the ages of 13 and 18, a self-proclaimed geek, not homosexual, not male, not white are shocked by your pedophile tendencies and would cry with glee at the sight of a rocket pack, you will probably enjoy this movie. Everyone else belonging to a minority, for fear of being either offended or made to feel too young or too old, you'd be better off watching How to Train Your Dragon.
There is only one other movie I considered prematurely walking out on lest my soul bleed from the holes under my fingernails I had to create just to stop the raping of my senses. Kick-Ass didn't quite measure up to that sort of torture, but I had the urge many times (which I could name). Perhaps my tastes have become too accustomed to real films, or perhaps I'm just not a teenager anymore, but I refused to conform to the rest of the audience's low standards of what makes an entertaining film. I was awkwardly frustrated when the room jolted from their seats to applaud the screen and one person yelled in sarcasm "That was a terrible movie!" to which everyone shared a group-bonding laugh about. Obviously Kick-Ass was a flick, designed to appeal to the flood of hormones of a teen, a guilty pleasure of fulfilled sexual fantasies, stardom, and rebellion, meshed with an open appreciation for one race of geek. It doesn't help that it would be accepted as freshness when the only activities in my town for underage night owls looking for some danger is spying on the hippies in the park.