I saw the Hunger Games sequel Sunday night. It rocked my world.
The film itself was pretty sweet, and the popcorn, dare I say it, even better. I totally dig Jennifer Lawrence, and Peeta, God, just… Peeta. Am I right?
But man, that film… after it ended, I went on a 10 minute rant and every emotion that is humanly possible to experience just ricocheted around my insides, over and over.
I need to be a better person. There are places in the world that are actually like District 11, you know? And what do I do for them? Do I start a revolution? And Peeta. Man. I love my husband and all (especially since he’s sitting riiight beside me as I write this), but I want a love the way Peeta loves Katniss, you know?! Like, an uncontrollable life or death love! Would I be willing to give up my life for someone? I’d like to say yes, but I’m probably too much of a baby. And Joanna Mason. She doesn’t even like Katniss, but she goes through everything for the bigger picture! I need to travel more! I need to see things! I need to play less Super Mario World! Where is my contribution to humanity?! How can I be better?!
These are all my feelings, or least, like, 10% of them. Everything else was sucked out of me the minute I started reading that stupid movie magazine on the subway home and got distracted by their holiday gift list and thought that I really liked that Middle Earth dress in the catalogue and should I ask my parents for it for Christmas because I bet my Dad would totally buy it for me.