I’ve been distinctly depressed this week. Perhaps that’s a misuse of the term. Not in a serious-mental-health-sense, but more so the downhearted, disconsolate kind. What triggered this bout of dejectedness? I ashamed to say. Twas the film Insurgent. Alrighty, don’t judge too harshly! More specifically (and in a similar line to the Hunger Games etc. – i.e. those kinds of movies) it was the female protagonist in particular who prompted this downhearted spell. Why? They’re so goddam baddass it hurts. Never fail, every time I watch these kinds of films I want to a) be them or b) become a stunt artist. Neither of which is going to happen. Reality check. It’s not the killing, heart/gut wrenching situations, the perpetual fear/anxiety or even the complicated-yet-passionate blooming romance I’m after, nuh-uh. It’s that sense of being strong, of giving it absolutely everything and then some more, of wholly devoting yourself to a cause/situation. Of being fearless – “take my hand, drag me headfirst, fearless” (obligatory T-Swizzle reference there; it appears we’re letting loose with all the dorky confessions today!). Continue reading
Taste Without Waste 