I saw this commercial at a movie theatre when I arrived too early. I did not know this ad played during the Superbowl until I searched it on Youtube. 

I think this ad does an amazing job of selling the audience an emotion: A sudden warm and fuzzy liking for the random person sitting next to you. I feel as though the two opposing forces (the Republican and Democrat) represent any conflict between individuals or groups of people. It is an unrealistic scenario that makes the viewer believe that something as simple as an old-fashioned bottle of Coca Cola could easily stop (at least temporarily) a large-scale rivalry. Sharing a bottle of Coca Cola could unite even the most unlikely pair. 

Not only did the bottle of Coca Cola establish a sense of rapport to its drinkers, but it also made the world surrounding it seem much more interesting and engaging. The two politicians, obviously having spent a great deal of time in Washington D.C., took the time to really emerge themselves in a whole different outlook of the city. There is implied humor in the ad as the two men ride one of the buses to go on a tour of the city they should know so well, and they are taking a sudden interest in exploring Washington D.C. 

Coca Cola is advertised as a product that brings people together and sparks an interest in the drinkers' surroundings. 

Ducks in the Rain

The other day I was babysitting these twins that I babysit every Saturday, and it was raining. And hard. Naturally, the kids wanted to run around outside and play, despite the fact it was wet and freezing. Thinking only of the paycheck I would receive in the next couple of hours, I agreed to chaperone their playtime outside in the downpour. (As if I had another option). 

We walked to the lake across the street from their house and I was stunned to see a large group of ducks swimming around in the state of the weather. I thought perhaps they were looking around for food, but then it occurred to me that they probably just enjoy being in the rain. And I remembered a time in my own life when I too enjoyed being in the rain. Running around in circles as if I was chasing my own tail, splashing in the puddles, not caring that my clothes were completely drenched. 

For a while, the twins and I just stood silently and watched the ducks. I thought that they were so beautiful and white so I pulled out my cell phone and took this picture. 

According to Sigmund Freud, a body of water represents our subconscious, in a literary sense. I immediately thought of this as I watched the ducks swim happily in the lake. It was like seeing my own mind releasing some kind of internal stress, letting go of a false sense of security. In literary interpretation, rain means catharsis. Rain upon a body of water. Before I knew it, I was running around and splashing in the puddles with my fellow 10-year-old companions. (And I'm not just saying that to make my blog entry sound cooler). It was a minute occurrence, yet one that was necessary for my sanity. 

Although my life is not a piece of literature, it helps to think of it that way. Following the signs around, paying attention to your surroundings, and living your life second at a time is an unexplainable sensation. I felt healed to be reminded of the innocence of playing in the rain and loving each moment for no particular reason. 

I like to think of this picture as a reminder of that day. Next time you feel lost or confused, jump in a lake in the rain.

Artist by Design

Every morning I wake up, take a shower, eat breakfast, brush my teeth, and stand in front of my closet for about twenty minutes. My eyes move slowly from left to right, taking in every piece of fabric and considering my options for the day. 

That top with those jeans with those red shoes paired with that belt?

That vest with this blue dress with those boots matched with a cute headband?

Those shorts with these black leggings paired with the pink cardigan with that gold necklace from my jewelry box on the nightstand?

In this way, I am an artist. I sketch, paint, and varnish a specific image in my head. I know that I'm just another person walking in late to class or standing around contemplating whether to buy Special K or Cinnamon Toast Crunch in the cereal aisle at the grocery store, but to me, I am an elaborate and beautiful product of my own mind. 

My choice of fabric, jewelry, shoes, and accessories are a representation of my mood and outlook for the day. Each day is a whole new perspective on life being channeled through my appearance. Ripped jeans with a Doors t-shirt, a new sundress from Urban Outfitters, Nike shorts and a tanktop, red jeans and a scarf. 

No two days will I wear the same outfit. The same fabrics yes, but never an identical picture. There is always a way to change it up and be different. Because there are no two days exactly alike.

G.I. NO

Every once in a while, on rare occasions, you come across a movie that leaves you completely speechless. There are those special films that seem to temporarily change your entire outlook on life as you walk out of the theatre when the credits start rolling, and you find yourself dazed and startled by the sudden thrust into the light as the other movie-goers are swarming around you and you realize you're back in the real world. Your mouth is slightly gaping as you replay the last few minutes of the movie in your head, wondering what the hell just happened to you. 

 A few days ago, I saw the most terrible, horribly awful movie that I paid $30 to see ($10 for the ticket, $20 for the shitload of food I would need to distract myself from what was sure to be excruciating pain that I suspected would be emitting from the screen in front of me). And sadly, it was worse than that. I will never forgive my younger brother for taking me to G.I. Joe; I have officially lost 2 and a half of hours of my life that I will never be able to get back. Plus $30. 

 The plot was centered around a military weapon, called a "nanotech" which was some kind of electronic device that could eat through matter, which doesn't make any damn sense. I sadly can't say much else about the storyline. 

 The stereotyped character development was worse than watching paint dry. There's the vaguely attractive hero with no personality, the comic relief, black sidekick who always has overwhelmingly hilarious things to say about everything, and the shy, hot girl who initially rejects the sidekick then weirdly changes her mind at the end of the movie and decides she likes him after all. The worst parts were definitely any time the villian was in a scene. There is one part where there is an intense battle scene in Iraq and this helicopter lands and out stomps this tall brunette with an uncomfortably tight leather, one-piece outfit where she proceeded to start fighting with a gun in each hand like in The Matrix. I was very disturbed/annoyed by this. It wasn't cool and/or hot, it was just awkward.

 This movie really got me asking some questions about Hollywood: How hard were the producers of G.I. Joe laughing all the way to the Box Office? Why couldn't they at least pick cool actors? (I'm guessing because any cool actor would rather talk to only a garlic milkshake for 2 months that have any sort of affiliation to this movie). Does the movie industry rely on moderately interesting special effects to hold an audience's attention? Have we as human beings gotten to a point where story line, character, and emotions in a film are not as entertaining? And lastly, why the hell was Dennis Quaid in the movie?

 Don't see G.I. Joe.

Final movie rating: Z-

Thank you.