my liberation notes is the anti-ghibli-movie*: (minggurie)

in so many ways, my liberation notes is the anti-ghibli-movie. both mln and ghibli locate themes of collectivism, identity and family within countryside landscapes, and while ghibli infuses a sense of optimism and community-building into these landscapes, mln explores its desolation and loneliness. everytime theyre in sanpo, theres this stifling of identity, originality, creativity. there is a sense of stagnancy. mijeong and gu find comfort in each other to attempt to drown out this sense of stagnancy, but even that comfort is fleeting.

summer, which often symbolises a season of growth, joy, vibrance in the ghibli universe (and in the larger context of korean media), is associated with a deep-rooted weariness in mln. it symbolises back-breaking labour. it symbolises suffocation and disillusionment. it symbolises loneliness and alienation.

the show’s subversions are just so goddamned beautiful and so goddamned heartwrenching.

i love how each one of the yeom siblings is relatable but in completely different ways*: (samuuoni)

i love how each one of the yeom siblings is relatable but in completely different ways. and relatable not in the "i do this (sometimes)" sense but "it feels like someone ripped open my chest and looked inside" sense.

there's gi jeong with her irrational fear of embarrassment, driving her to the point of faking an accident. nothing makes me feel more seen than the visual representation of me wanting to get hit by a truck every time i feel like i've been perceived. why can't you, the world, shut your eyes off to me existing? feeling tired to the core, all day every day without a valid reason to back it up. wanting to take off your arms and legs for a moment, wishing for someone to carry you and scrub your back. analogies that never sit right with anyone. i'm sorry i told you that i would pick up my lover's severed head, do you still think i'm hot? guilt soaring so high in your system that you're on your knees, bowing down to what? you don't know yourself. but bowing down nonetheless - i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry - as the moonlight creeps in.

chang hee with his lack of direction in life, living from one day to the next in itself can be be a chore at times and he's felt it. how do you expect me to peer into the future when i barely managed to survive today? why can't that be enough? realization dawning upon you that you might be the very thing you hate and wanting to slap the wits out of yourself because of it. in constant search for an elder male figure to validate you because you never received any from the one whose blood and bones are your very own. tell me i worked hard. tell me to rest. giving up on persuing romantic interests because you know, just know, that you will not be enough.

and mi jeong. mi jeong my beloved. no character has touched the inner workings of my soul as much as her. not feeling like you belong in public settings, forcing yourself to smile and nod because that's what they've told you will make you worthy of acceptance. wondering how people living on top of the world don't just jump off, thunderstorms making you comfortable because all you've ever wanted is for the world to end. never finding the strength in yourself to fight back, never being able to free yourself from the familiarity of attachments, never feeling complete. she's exactly what the personification of daily life existentialism would look like, neither happy nor sad, stuck in a repetitive state of being. how do you not want to coddle her in your arms? frogs getting torn to shreds, bad-mouthing your senior at work, biting into the flesh of what you adore - discovering that loving is listening, loving is saying out loud whatever comes to mind.

i will take this reassurance - you, too, can live the life of a main character - down to my grave.

what fascinates me with my liberation notes is the incredible amount of self awareness each character shows, while continuing to remain extremely flawed.: (astarlightmonbebe)

what fascinates me with my liberation notes is the incredible amount of self awareness each character shows, while continuing to remain extremely flawed. it really gives the drama a realistic appeal. and the way they constantly seem to echo each other. changhee talks endlessly about people who talk too much, before asking if he’s like that. park sangmin and changhee both say something along the same lines - i’m the one that needs to change, because the people around me won’t. gijeong talks endlessly about finding love, but in the end admits that it’s not passionate romance that she wants, but just a man to talk to. hyeona lives out the supposed dream life, stuck in an endless cycle of relationships, and admits that she’s so hungry for love that nothing ends up being fulfilling enough. changhee talks about a life away from sanpo constantly, and then his father voices his insecurities back at him - is what you’re doing really living? mijeong constantly exhibits self awareness about who she is, and how much she is/what her limits are. both of her siblings talk a lot and search for dreams, but mijeong knows where she is; she’s mired in her own reality.

love is gentle hesitance for some and headstrong impulsiveness for others. but most of all, it's salvation disguised as worship, persevering with steady steps. by the end of it all, its only aim is to fill the gaping chasm of your heart, leaving you whole.: (samuoni)

not many works of fiction have portrayed the idea of love as perfectly as my liberation notes. it speaks of a love that's raw and unpolished, rough around the edges. one you can't help but poke your finger at despite the knowledge that you might bleed. it's a painting buried in an ugly swirl of colours but when you take a few steps back, its beauty is more than apparent to make your soul shake with something. something that falls awkwardly between joy and grief, rage and serenity. it's a single morsel of food, a tissue tucked softly under a plate. it's lingering glances, distant walks, comfortable silence. it's a clang of glass bottles ensuring your presence is known. it's staring so far into the void that you forget what's real, that your body is a home you can never escape. sometimes, you can't help but leap regardless of your weary feet. sometimes, you learn that you're allowed to let them rest. a love like this reminds you of sunflowers, farm fields, fabric stained with sweat. buzzing of cicadas, whirring of fans, rustling of leaves - it's all of them at once or none of them at all. it's worry sprawled across a mother's face. it's a father's calloused hands, picking up a tan underneath the blazing sun. it's tainted photographs, childhood traditions, alcohol crawling through your veins. the loss of a love of this kind leaves you handicapped with no limbs to pick from. yet, you're not concerned with maneuvering yourself. not until a love of the same kind hands you purpose, meaning, reason. you, a child with your palms facing the sky and eyes peeled open, all too ready to drink it in. it's finding a footing of your own, realizing that the world can be just as wide as your wingspan if you let it. loneliness does not stir your being like cotton soaking blood, faces and voices have never felt less bothersome. it's sharing the tiniest of accomplishments, wanting to lay down parts of yourself and remoulding them so the winter does not cut through your skin. eat before you go - i care. sit next to my younger self - i will be here. you scare me - you're the flame, i'm the moth. love is gentle hesitance for some and headstrong impulsiveness for others. but most of all, it's salvation disguised as worship, persevering with steady steps. by the end of it all, its only aim is to fill the gaping chasm of your heart, leaving you whole.