This saturday morning includes binging Dash and Lily on netflix, grocery shopping, and sent some christmas presents to my neighbor. It’s a a tradition.
I would like to highlight about the overrated Dash and Lily. Some of my hearts love it- love it because it sets in New York and really show New York as its main character. Plus, New York during the christmas. With all the decorations. Perfect. The downside was- here we are, I just don’t like this typical story anymore. I mean, I used to like it, but now that I’m over my twenty something, I don’t bother with all these clues, first kiss, first clubbing, or those stuffs. Well, maybe this particular reminds me that I was never kissed (can you imagine how loser i am in this very age), or maybe because I didn’t have that amazing adventure of digging clue during my seventeen. But you know, some movie was not meant to be compared with ourselves. We will indirectly valued our life as a tragedy remembering we don’t have those much adventures. To be honest, I have my own shinanigans, or first love, or first rejection, or craziness, or brokenhearted, or a partner that never kissed me during those relationship time. I have my own story. I don’t need a validation from a tv show or a movie that my life sucks. Because it’s not. I don’t kiss because I have this principle religion. I’m sorry maybe it raised your eyebrow a little bit, but I prefer to do those things under holy matrimony. Marriage. I knew, I could cheat a little bit. It’s not a big deal. But I don’t need to have pressure that I kiss someone so I have a label of “my first kiss story”. And that’s what happened with Lily. She drank herself peppermint schnapp on christmas morning and decided to text a guy he hate during his junior high yet he kissed him so he get those experiences. Then Dash come and heartbroken. And guess what, few episodes away they’re fine and smuggling each other in The Strand during New Year’s Eve. I mean, I know the books would be wonderful, but I think there is too much of a fiction that we put into ourselves, creating our own boundaries for ourselves, putting a false standard that instead we’re degraded to not live to its fullest by some movies we watch. There are millions people outside your comfy zone, have their own story each, yet this is how enjoyed ourselves, by creating a rabbithole from false fiction and designated imagination.
Not that I hate fiction now. I mean, if I want to keep on writing eventually in order to making money you have to write a little fiction. Some opinions or self growth do sells, but only few bits. whats better than book-adapted into movie grossing title?
Maybe i’m just lack of sleep last night. And I’m grumpy and I watched fiction and I suddenly hate my life. Or maybe because now it’s raining again I became platonic to write. I love when it rains, again. It creates a solitude. It creates reason I didn’t have to come to a wedding. But now the wedding is outdoor, I just hope the rain doesn’t create a disaster. Or flood in any part of the country. That actually did already happened.
But with the spirit of festive and hope and believe, I wish tis season never ends.