Cinema in its very core is already a collective experience. Collective dream, as it is often called. Even though in the age of individual film watching, we still regard going to the movies as something special. As an event than needs special treatment. Cinema, it its very, very core is an event. A happening. Once in a lifetime experience.

every once in a while my world collapses on me. falls into me, my chest and all I can do is to carry it around with me hoping that somehow sometime it will get itself together again. my days consist of breaking apart and getting together again, and I can only sit and wonder while trying to keep hold of life outside myself, of this so-called objectivity outside me, of calendars and time and the way days go by. they keep repeating that one should live one day at the same time. I say hell with that, most often you can't keep track of even one minute of being here and now. honestly, I don't have the slightest hint about how to live right. I'm not really sure that there is anything right or wrong, but I do know that you can't mess with your consciousness because it's really not worth it. in the end you've fucked only yourself, not your parents, your God, your friends or whoever you wanted to impress. I guess there are many ways how you can learn. I have a feeling that my way of learning is deduction - I have no idea what's right but I have some beliefs about what is wrong. I just wish I could find out the truth through some easier way but on the other hand that would destroy the only joy I can still really feel - the joy of making my own mistakes and destroying my own little world.

I just wish I could ever fall in love again. but no, all I'm feeling is this big empty blanket of something. sort of sadness, emptiness, nostalgia and sentiment together, and there's no place in my heart for something new. so I'm sad, lonely and really tired of this all, although.. I'm really too young.

i hate farewells. not because i cry, no, i usually don't do that. but i hate the way i and people i'm telling farewell to, how we keep pretending that nothing bad or challenging is going to happen. going away is always a challenge. whether you're challenging your relationships or your own mental toughness, it's hard stuff to do. so i hate how we usually pretend, that nothing like farewell is going to take place. instead we're still talking about our daily plans and unimportant things that are going to take place, like going to a new cafe or watching that movie the critics praised in the last week's newspaper. i hate farewells, because in the end i never get to the most important, the crucial point - that i'm going to think about this person, i'm going to replay our conversations in my mind over and over just to make myself feeling ridiculous and to keep wondering what better phrases i could have used. what different, more meaningful words i should have used. because i never get to the point how much this person means to me. sometimes it's a whole life, sometimes it's just an example. but still, every person i've ever met has made an impression on me. and so i keep hating farewells, because who in the big old world wants to say goodbye to someone who has made a change in your life.

So in America when the sun goes down and I sit on the old broken-down river pier watching the long, long skies over New Jersey and sense all that raw land that rolls on one unbelievable huge bulge over to the West Coast, and all that road going, all the people dreaming in the immensity of it, and in Iowa I know by know the children mums be crying in the land where they let the children cry, and tonight the stars'll be out, and don't you know that God is Pooh Bear? the evening star must be drooping and shedding her sparkler dims on the prairie, which is just before the coming of complete night that blesses the earth, darkens all river, cups the peaks and folds the final shore in, and nobody, nobody knows what's going to happen to anybody besides the forlorn rags of growing old, I think of Dean Moriarty, I even think of Old Dean Moriarty the father we never found, I think of Dean Moriarty. (Jack Kerouac, 'On the Road')

growing up isn't supposed to be an easy thing to do, especially in a post-socialistic country like this and especially in a family like mine. as i remember, my childhood was kind of a mixture between all these soviet traditions and stuff, while with every day more and more west-like. i remember growing up with Britney and Backstreet Boys, and at same time we still had all these sovietic things like really old buses, strange politicians (not that i was kind of interested as a kid in politics, though now i realize what that time really was like) and mental heritage. and my family... i guess, it's just not possible to describe them. they're catholics, so i'm supposed to be a catholic as well, and not only be one, but actually act and live like one, too. it's strange, isn't it, how parents, friends or whoever else tries to push us into some things, beliefs, books, films, music etc what they've found really great, so we're supposed to like the same things as well. as a catholic child, i was raised up with thought that sex is bad, television is bad, actually life is so full of bad things that you'd better don't go out at all. of course, i'm overreacting now, i just can't get over it, over these restrictions, but still, still.. life is something more than just bad things. yeah, i understand really well that sex when you're not ready for it can really harm you - because i was so depressed by these restraints i could not try it at least, starting relationship when you both are just too young also can hurt you quite badly, as it happened to me as well. all in all, growing up is not an easy thing, no surprise many just don't get through it.

i know maybe i'll regret it later, but right now as it seems to me i'm completely in love with him. no head over heels, but it just feels so good. i love talking to him on the phone, his voice always sounds so caring, i love his long, sleek fingers, they make me wonder what would it feel like if they touched my skin and i love his sense of humor, his way of living. i just can't stop thinking about days we're going to spend together on that trip, it seems such a temptation already, and the only thing i really want to do is letting me into his arms. while falling asleep, i often imagine myself wrapped in his arms, his long, sleek fingers playing with my hair and his voice somewhere on my neck. i can't take it no more, either we're going to leave this place and live happily together or we're just going to be some kind of friends, meeting each other quite rarely. i just can't stop longing for him, i can't hide it anymore - and speaking honestly, why should i?