I assume that if you can read and comprehend this note, you already passed teenage several years back so you don't mix it with Melayu-Indonesia or Français. This note is made around 15-17 years ago, again, assuming that Facebook, or Google, caches this note in an old hard drive, plugged in a aged server whose compatibility issues render it obsolete. And perhaps it is installed in one forgotten, ghost city somewhere in what was once called as the United States of America.
Having spent last weekend watching movies, I feel that I have to tell you things reminded to me by those movies. As I already expected, they were not great movies , but nevertheless they showed things I have been holding dear in the past 10 years. Quite funny that three of these movies are based on comic books.
The one movie I want to talk about is Wanted, the most fascinating one. Wikipedia informed me that Wanted was based on a anti-hero comic series, and it was a debut english-speaking film of Timur Bekmambetov. The latter is a Russian-Kazakh film and advertising director. Yes, it's an action film, and the good thing is that one can not expect a real good-guy-beats-bad-guy. While the story is quite twisted, its morality issue is somewhat discouragingly straightforward: the protagonist, whose name is Wesley Gibson, should fight the preverse nature of his newly found friends.
Nevertheless, it brought me back to a bit more than ten years ago. I can feel what he felt when he made himself into the self-revelation of his own hidden talents. It's empowering, it's sparking up the life, and it gives you a sense of purpose. His escapism from a boring life is the same thing that jolted in my vein during those days of daring moments. The years of living dangerously, some might say. A camarade once asked me about my motivation in one earlier stages of those years, my response was brief, "Adventure." In a reflection on those days, I admit that it has not answered that particular question fully. As Wesley Gibson,the protagonist of Wanted, said when he pulled that trigger, "This is me taking back control of my life."
No more of taboo, conformity. Boring life is the result of our submission to those two, or fear for being the first to be different. Our lives are then condemned to the boredom because our light becomes similar to the neon light. Bright, white and pure, but lonely, empty and meaningless.
From there, you can see the sheer idiosincracy that lies inside the men and women with bellicose professions and confessions. Their ambition and obsession, or should I say perversion, for absolute control of everything has ultimately brought with them more and more destruction.
Every totalitarian attempt to control every aspects of life, of course even in the sense of the more subtle gardening gaze, should be put into suspicion. Especially of those who has the pretension to purify, purge, and cleanse our social life from animal, living being instincts. Their battle cries are marked with repression and censorship.
Alors, ma fille, t'es née de la liberté et j'ai échangé la mienne pour toi et ta vie. J'espère que t'auras aucune hésitation de la défendre.
