Feel free to call me sappy, I don't mind: these sentences brought tears to my eyes. Page 13 is pretty early in a book to start crying, even for me, but what can you do? I've never claimed to be a badass. I'm halfway through The Other Hand by Chris Cleave by now and I'll spare you the amount of times I've cried my eyes out so far. Read it.
The interview today was delightful (I adore that word, I feel so British using it) - it was for a magazine for young Christians and I got to talk about my view on God and Jesus and faith and such all day long. The reporter was lovely and the only thing that was a little bit uncomfortable about the whole thing was how I kept thinking that what I was saying was not religious enough and that she would be disappointed. Oh, and that I just couldn't stop swearing. I've grown up in a family where people curse way too much and I can't help it, it's like I don't even know how to talk if I'm not allowed to use words that are, well, not very Christian-like. I did my very best with all of the really nasty words and expressions, but I'm afraid I said "shit" about twenty thousand times.
Speaking of religion, or, at least the end of the world (they're somehow connected, right?) - yes, yes, yes, go see Melancholia if you have the chance. Lars von Trier surely is a very, very deeply disturbed human being and I wouldn't trade minds with him for a day if you paid me ten million bucks, but boy, does he know how to make films. His movies are like these awkward, nightmarish, surrealistic paintings sprung to life - or like walking around inside a terribly sick person's head. Which is pretty much exactly what Melancholia is: the ultimate capture of depression. Which sounds sort of, eh, depressing, I know. And it is. But it's also unbelievable beautiful. Go see for yourself!
