Stranger Things (and more).

At the behest of many, I began Netflix’s latest original series, Stranger Things. Essentially, it’s a sci-fi series set in the 80’s about a boy in a small town who goes missing and the mysterious, supernatural things that unravel soon after. It’s received praise left, right, and centre on Twitter.

I found it… alright. It wasn’t anything compelling.

But what stuck out to me this time around was how unrelateable it all was. Growing up in a small town in the woods… I can’t relate. I spent my childhood in Hong Kong. I also spent part of it in the the suburbs of Toronto, but for the most part, I couldn’t relate to these characters. I felt that, beyond the plot, there was an intentional nostalgic element to the cinematography in this series that pulled the average North American viewer closer. And it didn’t do it for me.

Or perhaps I’m just trying to figure out why I’m not head over heels about it. Perhaps I’m overthinking.


Side note: I do feel much better now. The past month of July has been a cloudy haze of emotions. I learned a lot about myself (I overthink and I need my friends more than I would’ve expected), what to be careful of (e.g. falling for an idealized version of someone vs. the actual person), and what I have to work on (I was going to write “letting my walls down” but nah b, I couldn’t let my walls down to that girl because we just didn’t click and my subconscious sensed that. I’m dope.). 

After being in a bad place for so long and rising back to my normal state, I’ve a renewed appreciation for the place and skin that I’m in. I’m an interesting person up to dope-ass things with dope-ass taste in music, art, and film and I make the world a better place, and I mean every word of that.

A variation of this came on my Twitter dashboard the other day:

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August, I am ready.

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