Let’s Talk About Suicide!

Today is World Suicide Prevention Day, so, I decided to write a blog post talking about suicide. Suicide is one of those things that talking about it is the best way to prevent it, but no one ever actually talks about it, because it’s such a taboo subject, even though we’re in 2013 and most of us have lost someone close to us to it. Maybe people still feel it’s contagious, that it’s something you can catch by talking about it. Or maybe it’s because it’s often associated to mental illness, which has its own social stigma linked to it. But the fact is, it’s not something groups of friends will just gather around and chat about.

But it’s important, you know? To talk about it, and especially to demystify it.  There are so many misconceptions and so much ignorance when it comes to suicide, which is spread and leads to prejudice, and more not talking about it, and more people feeling like they have no other way out other than ending their own lives. That’s what I would like to do, talk about it a little, clear  some things up. As most of you know, I’ve lost close people to suicide. I’ve had some personal experience with it. I’ve read a lot about it. Will you hear me out?

Let’s talk about the ‘Most Common Misconceptions’ concerning suicide, shall we?

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Write love on your wrist for Suicide Prevention Day

People Who Kill Themselves Don’t Announce It.

False. Bull. Freaking. Shit. I’m sure that in some cases, sure, people don’t go around saying “I’m going to kill myself.” but this misconception leads to the effect of people thinking that people who talk about killing themselves aren’t actually going to do it. And I know this to be false, because both people close to me who killed themselves talked about it multiple times before doing it. And, with one of them, I know for a fact that people in her life thought she would only say it for attention, and she only attempted it before for attention, “because people who really want to kill themselves just do it”. In fact, people who want to die, who feel they’re lost and overwhelmed, often want help and support and care from those who love them. And, sometimes, these people just can’t see how much they’re needed. It’s not their fault, really. We’re talking about hundreds of years of history here, about misconceptions, about personal fear of having someone you love actually wishing to die. So, the person who is suicidal feels that talking about it and trying to hurt themselves is the way to call out to you. No one talks about suicide without actually having it in mind or just “for attention”. If that’s their way to call attention, in the very least, they have some kind of serious issues. If  someone you love is talking about dying, saying they wish to die, LISTEN. Maybe they do want your attention, so, give it to them. It may hurt. It may be scary. But they need you. And, you know what? You probably need them, too.

People  Who  Commit Suicide Are Selfish Bastards

False. When someone kills themselves, especially someone who’s a public person, the first batch of comments will be something like: “How could they do this to their family and friends?” “How could they be so selfish?” Now, I ask you, have you ever had the chance of reading the thoughts of someone who’s committed suicide? I have. A whole journal full of them. The one constant in them was how this person was getting in the way of the people they loved. This is how the mind of most people who kill themselves work. And maybe this isn’t that much of a comfort for those  left behind, but in their confused, lost mind, they truly believed their loved ones would be better off without them. And for those people here, especially those who have never been anywhere near that place of  pure despair  and nothing else, it’s hard to understand that, but for them, this is done out of love, a way of making life better for those who mean the world to them.  When they feel worthless and unworthy and that their life has become a  burden, for them, it truly feels like the world would be a better place without them. This is selflessness. Not selfishness. I know this is hard for most people to understand. Just give it a thought.

People Who Seem Happy And Make Other People Laugh Don’t Commit Suicide

False. You don’t have to walk around moping all day to be thinking about suicide. People often think that even though someone’s depressed or Bipolar or whatever, if they’re fun or funny or they *gasp* laugh and  make other people laugh, that makes them instantly suicide risk free, because, obviously, if you’re laughing it means you don’t want to die, right? I know this may sound ridiculous, but  I swear to you there are people who think that. Again, I think this probably has to do with denial that people they love may be going through such pain, but for some people, as long and you laugh and you’re living, you’re not thinking about dying, which is completely not true. How often do we hear about someone who committed suicide “Oh, they were always making people happy, I wish they could have been happy themselves.”? Way too often. That’s something to watch for. If someone, even jokingly or casually talks about dying, it doesn’t mean they don’t mean it.

Suicide is Preventable.

True.

By You.

False. If you’ve lost someone to suicide, you’ve inevitably felt guilt up to some point. You’ve wondered: “Was there something I could have done to prevent it?” Your mind must have gone through every possible scenario of what ifs, why nots, and what elses. The truth is, suicide, although preventable, is not  preventable by you, not really. When someone reaches the point when they want to take their own life, though they really do need the love and support of their family and friends, they can only be helped by themselves and by professionals. Noticing the signs someone is suicidal, though important, is something subtle and most people will probably miss it, even because we’re surrounded by stigmas and misconceptions and a whole lot of denial. You can’t change the mind of someone who’s suicidal simply by talking to them or telling them you love them or they’re worth it. It’d be lovely if it was that simple. When someone commits suicide, they come from a place of a lot of pain and darkness, that needs treatment, time and effort. Some people are impulsive and commit  suicide on a whim, some people plan it for a long time. But that doesn’t mean you could have stopped them. Ultimately, it was their decision. You have to know that. You have to know you’ve loved your best. You have to know hiding is what they do. I mean it.

A Few Things I Want You To Know

  • Today I’m doing things different here. I’m not asking a question or asking people to engage. I know suicide is an uncomfortable subject and most people don’t want to talk about it. It’s fine. What I’m asking is: SHARE THIS WITH A FRIEND. Maybe someone who lost someone to suicide. Maybe someone who may need comforting words. I don’t know. Just share.
  • If you do want to talk about something, feel free to hit the comments. I’m open to suggestions, comments, if you want to share a story, if you want to say anything, I’m all ears.
  • If you came here by Googling suicide and you’re in crisis, talk to someone. Reach out. There are people who are willing  to listen. I promise. And if you feel you have no one, talk to me, I’m here.
  • If  you know someone who’s suicidal, who talks constantly about dying, about killing themselves, even as a joke, even if  it feels uncomfortable to you, talk to them? Ask what’s up? Maybe they need someone 🙂

And, last, but not least, thank you for reading. This is important. So, so important. Love. Live. Reach.

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Filed under Life in General, Suicide

The Super Overprotective World We Live In

Yes, I said Super Overprotective.

But, before I get to that, I’m back. I finally have time to blog again after the Semester-From-Hell at University. I want to make this constant and fun and I hope my few  loyal readers haven’t abandoned me 🙂

I’ve wanted to talk about this for a long time now. It’s something that gets to me every time I see any time I see censoring of any sort, every time I read articles on how teachers should interfere with bullying, every time parents say children should not watch this or that because it’s “too violent” or too scary. Mind you, I’m not talking about sexual content here, because, obviously, I don’t think five yeaR olds should be watching HBO produced tv shows. Still… stay with me.

I remember when I was a child, and my school had nap time, during which time, us kids that didn’t want to sleep were allowed to bring a movie from home to watch with the other kids. I went there from about 6-10, and I clearly remember watching, during nap time, with my other kid friends, Child’s Play, Bride of Chucky, Alien, Jumanji, Anaconda, Starship Troopers, Scream. I know there have been more. I also know none of us kids were terribly damaged and traumatized by watching horror movies during nap time at 7 years old.

Chucky

There were blood and guts and we screamed and cried and laughed and played pranks on each other. We’d hide in the dark and scare the hell out of the scaredy cats. When the characters we liked died, we cried. We hugged when the ones we liked survived the spree killing. I vividly remember that. The teachers? They were right that with us, watching the movies and watching us kids. The parents? They were the ones who sent the movies for us to watch — we brought them from home, remember?

I remember when I was a kid  and Candyman aired on tv. I must’ve been 7 or 8. Next day, EVERY KID in my class had watched it. I think we spent every free moment we had in the bathroom gathering up the guts to speak his name five times in front of the mirror in the bathroom.

I come from a generation when kids watched horror movies and saw blood and guts and played with it. They said Candyman’s name in front of the mirror then ran away screaming bloody murder. I come from a generation when we played Power Rangers during recess  and engaged in fist fights and high kicks. And that’s okay, you know?

I come from a generation when kids would stand up from themselves. It ticks me out so badly nowadays, when people make such a big deal about “bullying”. I’m sorry, but back when I was a kid, someone messed with you, you punched them in the face, and it was done with. This whole politically correct thing of “protecting your child” and “understanding your child” only leads to children that can’t stand up for themselves.

It leads to schools doing for children what they should be able to learn to do alone. When I was a kid, we took matters in our own hands, we solved our own problems. At six, seven, eight years old, we had much more independence than I see kids do nowadays. Independence to fight our own fights.

It’s funny, because I grew up watching horror flicks during nap time, and I see  the things kids are exposed to nowadays, and, in a way, it makes me flinch. Not only because it’s oversexualized, but because  he values it brings on to children are these values of overprotection and pseudo-independence.

Me? I’ll try and raise my children on the horror side of things, and teaching them to punch back first and tell the teacher later. Believe me, it works better.

So, what do you think about this overprotective culture? Do you think people are right to shelter their kids from these “monsters”? Or they’d better just teach them to stand up to them? Let’s chat! I’ve missed you all! 🙂

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Filed under Bullying, Education, Life in General, Movies

The Lizzie Bennet Diaries

If you follow me on Twitter or are my friend on Facebook, I’m sure you’ve notice I’ve talked about little else the last couple of days. (And if you’re my mom or brother and live with me, I’m extra sorry for all the bursts into your rooms with “OMG, Lizzie just…. and The Ly-di-a just… and OMG, Jane is soooo sweet, and Darcy…” and the guffaws and the yelping! I love you guys!) That’s because I’m in love! And its name is The Lizzie Bennet Diaries.

As you know, I’m not the greatest Jane Austen fan. Not that Jane Austen isn’t amazing. Truly, she is. When it comes to classic literature, she’s the absolute best out there. And as someone who’s a Literature major by obligation, I know my fair share of Austen. It’s not that I don’t like Pride & Prejudice, the classic story. I do. I think it’s sweet, poignant, and way ahead of its time. I think Elizabeth is smart, mouthy and has ideas that go way beyond the typical girl from her time. Last year, as I took a class on book adaptations, I’ve had the chance of reading Pride & Prejudice in every form, from comics, to Pride & Prejudice and Zombies. I’ve seen two versions of the movie — I actually own the Keira Knighley version, because I got it as a gift, and I really like, I’ve seen it a few times. It’s cute, sweet, funny, smart. What’s not to love about it? Nothing. It’s perfect.

Still, I’m a 00’s kid, technology buff whose fingers twitch if there are no notifications on her phone for over an hour. If my 3G is down? End. Of. The. World. It’s hard for me to truly enjoy something, to truly identify with something without the fast, desperate, hurried pace we live in today. If I read a romance novel with no sex, no cell phones, no women having their own jobs, it’s just so weird to me. I can enjoy it, a lot. But it’s just so hard to love it.

That’s where The Lizzie Bennet Diaries come in. I hadn’t checked it out before, because I’m not a huge Pride & Prejudice fan, and I thought that’s what the webseries was for, right? But how wrong I was. I think it was made for me, really. Why do I say this? Because it has absolutely every awesome element of Jane Austen’s awesome story plus every awesome element of our modern world nowadays.

Lizzie Bennet? She’s a twenty-four year old grad student! And the story? It’s told by her in the format of VLOGS. Can it get any more modern than that? But what’s more awesome about it is that it follows exactly the timeline of the books, as the events unfold in the Jane Austen novel, though, of course, it needs to be adapted to the world nowadays.


(First Lizzie Bennet video — WATCH IT)

That’s the thing, though, as these elements of the story are adapted, the plot gets more… interesting. And it just shows the brilliancy of the writers of the (web)series. I don’t want to give spoilers, though my fingers are itching to do so. But marriage proposals are turned into job offers, illnesses are turned into job opportunities (you know how it is today, all about a career), things like that. And, OMG, I wish I could just tell you, but you have to watch it! 😉

But the best thing about it? The Characters. As someone who actually knows the story to the core — if I didn’t, I’d deserve a good smack — that’s one thing I can talk about. Oh. My. Gosh. So easy to fall in love with. I don’t know who I love more. Lizzie and her sassy mouth, who babbles, babbles, talks about everyone, is always critical, analytical and so loving and caring. Jane, the SWEETEST person in the world, who has me laughing out loud all the time, The Ly-di-a, who’s so full of life, and though she can be annoying, is so refreshing and just jumps off the videos, Bing Lee with his “Are you recoding another video letter to Charlotte?”, Darcy imitating other people, OMG, Gigi being the cutest person ever and setting Lizzie and Darcy up. Maybe Charlotte is the one I never really connected with much. Still… I LOVE THESE PEOPLE!!!


(Introducing her sisters — go watch it. It’s SO GOOD! Why are you still reading me?)

I guess that’s it. My latest and newest obsession! I guess a story is all about how it is told, and I found how I love hearing the story of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. My favorite adaptation ever. If I were a literature buff, I’d definitely use this for my Masters dissertation. Not. Even. Kidding.

So, what about you guys? Are you big Pride & Prejudice fans? Have you checked The Lizzie Bennet Diaries yet? Are you totally addicted like me?

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Filed under Fiction, Literature, Vlogs

A Little Short Story

At eight years old, Louisa Jenkins had her whole life sorted out. It was reading a book that brought the epiphany she could hardly contain in her little body, or even in her dreamer mind. Everything was so clear inside her head, how her life would turn out. First off all, she would marry a prince. You know, those from the storybooks, the ones who lived in big, fancy castles, with gardens full of flowers, trees and little forest animals. Squirrels!!! She’d always loved squirrels, their little fluffy tails, the front teeth bigger than the rest and their little almond shaped eyes reminded her of herself. She could envision her days, walking around her property, enjoying everything had life so kindly handed on to her. She felt flattered, that life would actually consider her to take charge of such magnitude of wonders. She knew she had to have done something good to deserve such honor and she planned to take better care of her treasures than anyone ever had.

“Excuse me, sweetheart?” Louisa looked up to see an older woman smiling at her, trying to push passed the grocery cart she’d distractedly left blocking the passage.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” Louisa smiled, her little heart beating faster in her chest, a tingle of happiness coming up her spine. Someone had actually talked to her.

The woman pushed her cart by, but the happiness in Louisa’s chest lingered longer, the giddiness of someone having noticed her making her feel alive and complete.

“You can come live in my castle,” Louisa whispered as the woman disappeared in the canned soup isle.

That’s when she remembered! Her life would never be complete without her favorite thing in the whole world: cereal. She pushed her cart through the aisle, deviating an alligator and a giant snake on the way (weren’t they practically the same thing?), running fast, crossing the bridge and, whoa, was that dinosaur? She needed to have a serious talk with her guards about allowing dinosaurs into her property. Then, she saw it. The Cereal Aisle. One of her very favorite places in the whole wide world. She started for the boxes: fuity, sweet, marshmallows, and… just why were the chocolate boxes so up high? Didn’t they understand that children needed to be able to reach them? Maybe she should have a talk with the grocery store manager as well. She tried the tip of her toes, but she couldn’t reach it. She jumped, again, unsuccessfully. Then, a gentleman walked by and stopped.

“Can I help you, Miss?” he asked and she smiled widely.

“Thank you, sir,” she said. “I want that one.” She pointed to the brown box with the dinosaur in the front. For some weird reason, she was in a dinosaur mood.

The man reached for the box and placed it in her hands, a smile on his face.

“Thank you, sir.” She grabbed the box and placed it in the cart, aligning it with all the other things she had carefully chosen. They would look so great in her kitchen.

As the man was walking away, Louisa called, “Sir?”

“Yes?” He turned back and his eyes met hers.

“Do you want to be my friend?” she asked, feeling her heart beat faster, her hands sweating a little, feeling anxious and expectant about the answer.

The man smiled down at her, and nodded, “Of course, my dear.”
Delight coursed through her body, and she was about to…

“Louisa Jenkins!!!” She heard the voice, and the lump came instantly up her throat as her hopes fell to the floor. She saw the man walk away as her mother walked closer, grabbing her arm, turning her around, demanding attention.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” she asked, her eyes dark, angry, mean.

“I was…” Louisa stammered. “Just… getting some… supplies,” she finished with a sob.

“Oh, just leave the crap behind. I’ve looked all over for you.” The grip tightened around Louisa’s arm and the sharp pain sent a tear down her cheek.

“You insolent child.” Her mother dragged her down the aisles, and Louisa watched the cart with the cereal boxes, so carefully aligned, stay behind.

At eight years old, Louisa Jenkins had her whole life sorted out. She just needed to wait, maybe a day or two, until she met her prince, and he’d take her away from the dragon who kept her locked up in the tower. Then she’d have her sanctuary, her castle, her dreams. And she’d be finally safe.

Castle

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Filed under Fiction, Short Story, Stories, Writing

The Teacher Becomes You

I’m not sure how it happened. You know how it goes, don’t you? When something sneaks up on you and boom, takes over your life, your being, your heart and your soul. That’s sort of how it was for me. One day, I was just me. Next thing I knew, I was someone who was beyond myself and out into the world.

Because that’s what a teacher does. They give a part of themselves to the world. Every time they get into the classroom, they leave something of themselves behind (and, kid yourself not, they take something with them — and many times, I feel I learn more than I teach — for teaching is also learning), they leave a little bit of knowledge to a world of so many unknowns.

They leave words, sentence, numbers, strategies, laughs. Being the daughter of professors, I could never have imagined teaching was passed through the blood. I could never have imagined, as I struggled through Law School and Philosophy, that the teaching fever coursed through my veins. But it doesn’t make me ill, it makes me alive.

Sometimes, as I look at my students, who often remind me so much of myself, and I wonder what I would have done then, if a beloved teacher had told me: “That’s who you’re going to be.” (I’d probably have said, “You’re out of your mind!”)  But I was the one who was out of my mind, then.

But I seem to have found my way. Or rather, my way seems to have found me. Because one thing I’ve always heard about teachers is that you don’t become a teacher. The teacher becomes you. And, boy, once it does, there’s no turning back.

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Filed under Education, Life in General, Teaching

Que será, será.

Why, yes, you’ve come to the right place. I decided to change things around here a little bit. You see, this is kind of what I do with my life. Sometimes, life gets a little too static, and I find it’s time to switch things around. Sometimes, I dye my hair pink, chop it off or get a new tattoo. Sometimes I switch school majors. Others, I, you know, just change the layout of my blog. I just have this great, constant need for innovation, or I end up getting bored.

This has always been my problem, since I was a child, which is why I was always in trouble at school. I got bored easily, and I’d get creative (does it get any more ‘recipe for trouble’ than an overly creative, bored child? Didn’t think so!). With time, I learned to focus that creativity on less dangerous more productive things, and I’ve managed to do well so far.

Still, I crave change. All. The. Flippin’. Time. There’s this uneasiness inside of me that won’t get quiet until it’s settled, which is until something is different. Of course, like every normal human being, I fear change. It scares the beejezus out of me. What if my new hair sucks, and what if my new tattoo is done out of impulse, and, for goodness sake, what if, I make the wrong decision about school… again?

You see, I’ve wanted to be everything you can think of. (Except a veterinarian! I must have been the only kid you’ll ever meet that has never wanted to be one!), from an OBGYN (beats me!) to an archaeologist (on my ‘I Love Egypt’ phase!). I wanted to be a detective (Sherlock Holmes style — when I read all Sir Arthur Conan Doyle books — I’d look at things and I’d just solve the mystery!), and none of these things ever felt impossible to me. I had it all worked out in my head. I had no fear, there was no confusion, no doubt. It was perfect.

The only constant in my life has been that I want to be an author. Since I was eleven years old, I know I want to write. Of course, back then, it didn’t seem nearly as challenging (notice I didn’t say impossible) or hard to accomplish as it seems now. It didn’t seem such a dream rather than a goal.

Maybe that’s my problem. My life’s always been full of dreams, dreams that seem unachievable once I actually start thinking about the practicality of them. Then, I realize it wasn’t what I wanted anyway (Looking at women’s hoohas all day? Really? No, thank you!). But, writing, even as I look at all it takes, it’s always there! It’s still what I want. Even if I know how hard it is, there’s something inside of me that keeps nagging and saying, “That’s where you belong.”

Still, I don’t know what to make of it. I don’t know if that’s ever going to be a career, or a hobby, or whatever. I have no idea what will become of my life. And, for a long time, that used to suffocate me. I look at my students confused, trying to figured out what to do for University, and I tell them, “Don’t worry about it, if you don’t like it, you can always switch courses. I still don’t know what I want to do.”

I still don’t. I’m four years into studying Languages and I have no idea what I’m going to do with it. I’m… experimenting. I’ve been teaching, and I really love it. I mean, I’m happy with it. I don’t know if it’s where I belong, or if it’s what I want to do for the rest of my life, but it’s an experience.

Last year, I was thinking about switching University courses again. Seriously thinking. It would pull me back a good four years. But that’s when I realized that I’m going about this the wrong way. I’ve been so worried about what I’m going to do with my life, but I’m already doing it.

My life isn’t my future. My life is now. I’m at school, I’m studying. I’m teaching. I’ve traveled. It’s like the old Doris Day song says, “Que será, será. Whatever will be, will be. The future’s not ours to see. Que será, será.” I’m doing it with my life.

And I think realizing that has helped me a lot. I still have the crazy need for change. I should probably stick with dying my hair or getting a new tattoo for a while, until I’m ready for something more serious. Or changing the layout of my blog.

Speaking of which, what do you guys think of the new layout? And, are you doing now what you thought you’d do as a child? How did that childhood dream fit into your life? Let’s chat!

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The Power of a Great Heroine (Otherwise Entitled: Why I Hate Titanic)

I remember as if it were yesterday. Each and every one of my fourth grade little friends talking about it. And the third graders. And the fifth. Also, the adults. They squeaked over at just how cute Leonardo DiCaprio was in the movie, and they had posters of him in their bedroom. They went to the movies over and over and over (I met a couple of girls who claimed to have gone 20 times) to watch the same movie. A movie about a ship which had sunk.

They’d bring the posters to school and talk about the movie starstruck. I wouldn’t get it. In my mind, there was nothing in a movie about a ship which had sunk that appealed to me. Especially after they’d spoiled to me that cute Leonardo died in the end. Still, after the whole fuss, I surrendered.

By the time I actually went to see Titanic, there were only a handful of theaters airing it. The sessions weren’t as crowded anymore, though you could still spot the lovesick prepubescent girl. I went with my father. Poor Guy! I’m still sorry for that one! Even before the movie started, I had a feeling how I’d feel about it. And, boy, was I right.

I remember being bored. Very, very bored. Like, monumentally bored. The whole darned movie was spent IN A SHIP. It was completely different from the movies I liked back then (like Jumanji and Anaconda — Yeah, I’ll blog about it sometime). I didn’t think Leonardo was that cute. At all. I thought he was so plain and not the kind of guy I’d want to marry (what? I was nine!). But, mostly, it was Kate Winslet’s character that completely threw me off.

Even back then, at nine years old, I knew a girl had to be extremely weak and stupid to want to kill herself over having to marry some guy. By throwing herself off a ship into cold waters. I thought her character was so incredibly weak, I was actually hoping she would die — along with Leo (how stupid is it that they both died? Does his death just does not make any sense to everyone else?). I thought she was dramatic. I thought he was boring. And I didn’t shed I single tear, after my friends swore I’d cry buckets. Because, really, those characters weren’t worth my tears.

I was nine. Maybe that was not my exact perception of the characters back then, but it was something very close it. Titanic may have been a lot of things in terms of production, but, boy, it lacked everything in character development. Even a nine year old like me could see that.

Last year, the 3D version came out. And an amazing YouTube channel came up with this hilarious Honest Trailer. I think THIS pretty much sums up the movie.

But, wait!!! The post is not over. There’s still half of the story missing.

It was that same year, shortly after the Titanic fiasco, in fourth grade, that I watched my first SCREAM movie. I’m not, in any way, comparing James Cameron’s multi-million production with Wes Craven’s slasher, though, maybe I am.

For a nine year old, the difference was palpable. I don’t remember if I watched SCREAM at nap time at school (I may as well I have, but I’m not too sure), so, I don’t remember if my friends watched it. But I don’t remember anyone talking about it. I don’t remember any fuss about it. All I remember is it having this HUGE influence in my life.

Because, at nine years old, I thought Sidney Prescott kicked ass. She was this teenager, whose mother had been murdered, and she chose not to sulk on it, but to move on. Then, she started being stalked by psycho killers — one of which turned out to be her boyfriend — she almost died, but she didn’t give up. She shot him. Right between the eyes. She was freakin’ awesome! Neve Campbell was like my first girl-crush. I wanted to be Sidney when I grew up (serial killers and all!).

And, Dewey, played by David Arquette, the geeky police office who ran around trying to get things done, getting slapped by nuts reporter Gale Weathers, was more attractive to me than Leonardo had ever been! I’m not even kidding!

The story — of course, was lacking! It’s a slasher! A classic, 90s whodunnit slasher. The actors are hardly worth of an Oscar, so overdone, but, to a nine year old child, these characters, they spoke through her in a way that no mega million blockbuster could. Because, in a way, they were much more real — like real people instead of idealized characters, built with its basis on the sexist society we live in (a guy dying on cold water to save a girl who wanted to die half a movie early? Like, really? Is that what you call a hero?). Even back then, I wanted to watch movies in which a girl would save the day.

Last year, like I said before, Titanic 3D came out. And, of course, I stayed clear of the long lines and the everlasting teenage squeaking. I’d hope for it to end someday. I hope it will. Instead, I took a smaller line, the one for Scre4m, the movie which resurrected the trilogy I loved so much, 11 years after the last one. I have to admit, I may have squeaked a little.

The years have passed, and I’m not a nine year old anymore. I no longer have a girl-crush on Neve Campbell, nor I think David Arquette is attractive. Still, I loved the movie every little bit as I did when I was nine. Because the characters still spoke to me. And that’s what matters the most after all.

So, what about you guys? What movies/characters speak to you? Are you a SCREAM fan? A Titanic fan (I’ll try not to judge ;))? Let’s talk about it!

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