A "thanks" to the writers of the movie... a very personal comment

Rating: 10/10 (24 November 2004)

It's been such a long time, acting, pretending to be someone else - not one, but many- I no longer recognized myself. It sounds cheesy, and even normal, and that's what it is, completely normal. All human beings are supposed to belong, to adapt themselves. Even the criminals adapt themselves to a certain way of living, to a certain group, and they follow the description of their role in society like it was a prescription. I'm not implying to be different, or special, but the contrary, I am totally common, totally normal. Just another human being with an existential crisis, suddenly trapped in her comfort spot comfortable, but frustrated, adapted, but miserable fearing life, above all. Just recently I watched a film that made me feel like I had been raped. Like someone came and saw my naked mind, my naked soul, possessed it and wrote it down to shoot it later in "before sunset". I am nothing like the perfect beautiful blond actress, and certainly I am not a successful intellectual activist although I do like the "wonder woman feeling", helping here and there once in a while. And neurotic? maybe I am a little of that. One of the scene shots in that movie, named "Dying inside" told my love life story in less than 4 minutes. It's funny how insignificant you feel after such a thing happens. My concepts of love, romanticism, independence and frustration are there, in those 4 minutes along with the funny story of boyfriends that break up with me and get married, and call me later to thank me for showing them what love was. And that passive anger of not having been asked of not having deserved that honor While I am sure I would have said no, and I am sure none of them were the right oneif such a thing exists. I've been hiding for 5 years behind the wall of rationalism. Logic, strength, independence. And all these years I have longed for that experience of romantic love that was stolen once, or many times in my past. It's funny when it doesn't matter anymore to tell the truth out in the open, for anyone to see it grasp it and maybe get the courage to tell their own I am just another woman longing for her blue prince to pick her up on a white horse and take her to his castle well not that simple of course. In my long 5 years of single life, I have managed to put together the most ridiculous huge and complicated list of perfect attributes for that blue prince In the end though, I guess it would be enough to know someone that makes me shiver just by the encounter of sights, that threatens my rational arguments and with whom I can forget the bullshit and simply be myself but believe me that alone is too complex to even get close to reality It's funny how human beings love to complicate the beautiful simplicity of life and when it becomes a vice I doubt it has a way back. I have a confession to make, I am a weak daydreamer of romantic love, like any other cheesy woman And I am dying inside pretending all the time the strength and independence I don't have. I saw my self in that movie, like I dared to face a mirror for the first time in my life and found a tiny little creature too scared to even look straight into her eyes. I wish I could thank the writers... for "stealing my story", in the end maybe that's the story of everyone... and somehow, that's a relief. In the meantime, I'll keep on laughing at myself until I am too tired to continue my own acting role and decide to show the real one if that ever happens.
22/11/04