Stardust with little children

My boyfriend sometimes says that I'm childish, and I guess that is true. For example do I enjoy a lot of stuff that is really meant for children (or meant for people that like stuff that is perceived as children's stuff by other people). Some of those things I like that might, or might not, be meant for children are films in the genre fantasy, and today I went to see "Stardust".
I felt a bit queasy before going to see this one, because it's based on my favourite book and I was afraid I'd be disappointed. I wasn't, it's a great film and I heartily recommend it.

But not surprisingly, the cinema was full of children. That means the sound of popcorn being crunched between itty bitty milk teeth was quite loud, the general squealing was deafening, and oh boy, those huge buckets of popcorn with butter on really smell like a whole bunch of people have farted on their well-worn sweaty socks and then started waving their feet around. When I think about it, that might very well be what had been happening, and the popcorn producers may be innocent.
After living in Finland for a year I've grown used to blessed silence and good hygiene from the human beings around me, so going to the cinema here back home is a bit shocking. Going to a "children's movie" is plain surreal.

The little tyke sitting next to me was clearly not old enough to understand English nor read subtitles. Maybe, just maybe, this is a sign that the film was not really intended for children his age? Perhaps, if it was, someone would have thought of dubbing it?
Anyway, little tyke had his father along to do the dubbing that the film distributors didn't provide. Which is fine with me really, I don't really care if little tyke pee in his bed tonight, and I would have loved my mum to pieces if she had taken me to films like that when I was a little brat (however, my mum had, and still has, plenty of those protective maternal instincts and guess which little girl in my class didn't get to see Star Wars when it finally was sent on television). However, in the beginning of the film I seriously considered asking daddy if he hadn't heard of the difference between the voice we use inside and the voice we use outside. After all, a cinema is a public place, with other people who also have paid an expensive ticket to enjoy the film, not his family's private home.

But pretty soon this scene came along to save the day: 9 months after a male character had kissed a (fairy)girl and followed her into her travelling wagon a basket with a little baby is delivered at his door. Little tyke asks daddy: "Why did he get that one?". Then I finally got a bit eager to listen to daddy's explanations for this strange phenomena, but suddenly it seemed that daddy had finally found his "inside voice" after all...

All the things I should fear

Yesterday my Mum called me. She had seen in the news that a lot of girls have been raped in Bergen lately and women are warned against walking alone when it is dark (which in a month or two will mean pretty much all the time). Since my family view me as a rather reckless person, and know that I seldom watch TV, she thought it best to call me to make sure I was aware of the dangers who lurks around outside my front door.

Now, I don't blame my mum for worrying about me. After all, that is part of the job description for parents I assume. And sure, I can't argue against the fact that there are nasty people out there who sometimes does things to other people which isn't very nice.

What I have a problem with is all the hassle and general lowering of life quality that being afraid brings. Fear can be a very useful trait. Sometimes, like when you think about how fun it is to drive really fast with your car on icy roads, it can even save your life. But if you start making a list over all the bad stuff that can possibly happen to you, you risk ending up with a list that is pretty much endless. Probably you will end up with a life that seems pretty much endless too. Not because it will span several solar years, but because subjective time goes so much slower when you are bored.

I'm an adult. Experience have taught me that sometimes Bad Stuff happens (Actually, bad shit might happen to you when you sit peacefully in your own home minding your own business, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it). But I'm sick and tired of media, or anyone else who isn't my mother, telling me to be afraid of everything from crossing the road to the evil terrorists who wants to smuggle dangerous weapons aboard aeroplanes in water bottles. If an increased risk of being blown screaming out of the sky in a gigantic fireball is what it takes to let me go through airport security check without waiting in line until the batteries of my mp3 player runs out, I say go for it.
If there is wolves in the forest I will still go for a walk, I won't stay home in front of the computer every night just to be sure to avoid mean people that might pounce on me from the bushes, and if there is a green man I cross the road because it is NOT my responsibility to make sure the cars stop. It is not possible to live a life without risk anyway, so I don't see any reason to make myself miserable by attempting to reach the impossible goal of 100% safety.