I watched Oz The Great and Powerful (2013) last night. Seeming as I read a few of L. Frank Baum's works as a child, being the type of kid who could turn the ravine behind our house into a fantastical world or the swing-set into a time-travel portal, I was interested to see it. I think it's important for human beings to not only critique and be challenged, but to have times to simply be and to enjoy. We have evolved to love beauty, and we need to enjoy beautiful things.

Of course, as I was watching the movie, I couldn't help but think about the predominating white cast (at least all of the main characters), and gender stereotypes in terms of roles (women seamstresses, men builders, etc), and perhaps most of all how absolutely perfect the female witches were. I mean, myself, as a 24-year-old woman (let alone the 10 and 16-year-olds watching), felt myself wishing that I "looked like them," interjecting intellectual slaps across my brain for thinking that these women looked perfect -- perfect for being thin, and white, with long hair and perfect completions and no excess facial hair -- never-mind the lack of intelligence and dependency on Oz himself. Afterward, I wished I had applied the Bechdel test to the movie: a test that sees whether two dominant female actors talk for more than sixty seconds about something other than a man (the same can be applied to see if people of colour talk about anything other than a white person for more than 60 seconds -- and we're talking about 60 seconds out of an entire movie. You'd be surprised at the amount of films that fail this test).

It may be impossible for me to watch or read anything without being critical, unless I'm reading something critical about something which I agree on; then I can achieve a type of intellectual orgasm.

I can, believe it or not, be happy: usually in moments of solitude, in moments with people whom I care about and respect, in moments with Nature. In reality, amidst the constant despair I feel about humanity, I am an avid believer of a utopian ending for us humans, and animals, and trees and shrubs. Emerald City, the Shire, Narnia, and other places where animals talk and the grass is green -- these are dominant discourses representing perfection -- arguably, heaven. But you have to have a utopian ending to the world we live in, a utopian goal that inspires activism for environmentalism or racism or sexism or teaching young girls that beauty should be healthy and not prosthetic or to preach that violence does not end violence. Beliefs stemming that us humans will die and be transported elsewhere anger me the most. People's volunteer hours done for selfish pursuits of spiritual redemption, entitlement to power and privilege, using faith as an excuse to hate: I honestly believe the reasons for these are due to such otherworldy dreams.

There are those who hate the world and keep on hating it believing that things will only get worse.

There are those who hate the world and keep on hating it believing that the things they do will contribute to an eventual transformation.

There are those who are too distracted by tv, their cellphones, their new car, their boyfriend, the amount of calories they're intaking, the fact that a celebrity dyed their hair a different colour, to notice.