Winx Club: The Mystery of the Abyss

Winx Club: Mystery of the Abyss is an Italian film first released on September 2, 2014. The movie was directed and produced by Ingrinio Straffi at Rainbow Productions, in collaboration with Rainbow CGI Animation Studio. Joanne Lee executive producer. The one-hour and thirty-eight-minute film is a part of the Winx Club franchise and set to take place between the fifth and sixth seasons. However, by the time this was released, Nick was wrapping up the sixth season whose final episode would air a month after the movie. Due to this, there are obvious contradictions (I've seen up to season 6; episode 14, and a few episodes from season 7), but I'm willing to let those go. At this point, the series was a mainly American production under Winx starring Molly Quinn as Bloom. Meanwhile, this movie was first released in Italy with Letizia Campia in Bloom's place. I doubt these two production companies worked too closely together.
This particular movie has decent graphics that deserve praise for. Despite the occasional oops in animation, it makes for a very scenic start. It gives way for us to see the Trix who are monologuing about their latest evil plan. Though, something about them makes them so not intimidating. Sure, their dialogue is choppy, but everyone's is. Their characters as a whole are just so...weak. They don't even know much of anything about the throne they're after.
We then cut to the Winx and Stella's degrading entrance. In the main series' first few seasons, Stella proves herself to be so much more than just a fashionista. Sure, her obsessions are a bit ill-timed every once in a while, but she isn't unsympathetic. Here, she's introduced by holding up the freshmen's orientation to look for a pair of hideous glasses then proceeds to turn said orientation into a spectacle. I went through the script and she has fourteen whole lines that refer to shopping/fashion/clothing. Including her power calls and one-liners, she only has seventy lines total--most of which aren't more than seven words. Ridiculous.
Not only were a few of their personalities messed up, but their voices are wildly different. Again, the American/Italian differences are shining through. After a while, they all become manageable except for Aisha. In so many Winx Club movies, Aisha/Layla's actress tends to try and make her southern. It's terrible.
Back to the story. After the orientation, Bloom runs off to go meet up with Sky, who is now a king and apparently too busy for day-dates. (The orientation makes it very clear that the Winx are in their mid-twenties. Stella says that they're no longer students and have graduated from Alfea. So they're around twenty-two or twenty-three? Where do they live? Where do they work?) The Trix come and ruin the date because royalty is needed to activate the throne. Why is never really explained. Sky doesn't even have powers, but whatever. They take him underwater, secure him in a magical oxygen thing to secure Trittannus' rescue from the oblivion. And the Trittannus is so easily fooled with nothing but a fork and Icy's lame seduction skills.  He goes on long speeches almost comparable to Bloom's ridiculous white knighting. Honestly, she knows the team's coming no matter what, this is just irritating.
They jump into the portal, which defeats the whole "all connections have been cut off" point they made just a minute prior. They transform (Musa's is the coolest)(the cutouts are weird) and have their metal psyche's beaten at. Of course, Bloom is the strongest and the only one able to break free on her own. They leave this area and enter the infinite ocean, where they meet the silkies--who are all but defenseless. Stella makes another off comment and they go to fight off the Trix and the villain whose character is so unmemorable she's not even worth naming. The team goes in circles due to not realizing they had to work together sooner and ignoring Sky--who has most likely been listening to the Trix's entire plan.
I zoned out a bit here. I was distracted and somewhat disinterested and didn't tune in until Sky convinces Bloom to just listen and get the villain to attack the tower he's trapped in. Despite it being established that the tower is connected to his lifeline(why they haven't already busted him out), he's perfectly fine when the whole thing is destroyed. A little hazy and unconscious, yes, but fully alive. Also, he was underwater with zero medical assistance for up to a minute after being knocked unconscious--how is he okay? We then skip to a moment between Sky and Bloom in his recovery room. And, honestly, Nick could never. Her leaning on him? His hands on her waist? Season 8 is quaking. The movie ends with cliche collective laughter to honestly a joke that arrived too soon. "I could die for it!" (In reference to ice cream.) Bro, you just got out of the hospital, chill.

Poem Prompt: No Such

I believed that there was no such thing

as too much

of the person I care about.

I used to get worried 

when we wouldn't talk.

If I care about you,

and you care about me,

we should be able to be up for hours.

Just talking about each other

and see each other the next day

and still talk about us.

That's how these things work, right?

Well, I tried it out myself,

and much to my horror,

there was no such.

I can call him

and we'll laugh for a bit,

then not talk at all 

all day.

Then call again late at night--

and it's like nothing happened.

We'll joke and smile and fall asleep together--

I'm his goodnight,

he's my good morning--

then part ways at breakfast.
It's work time; we focus and work.

I don't hear another word until the day slows back down

around evening time.

At first, I was confused

What is this? What is this thing?

Everything I've seen on screens has told me there's no such;

caring should be obsessing.

Right?

Well,
this isn't.

It's just

doing nothing more

than being two people

who just happen to care about each other.

Sensitivity

I am so sensitive. I don't know why I am, I truly hate it, I'm constantly fighting it--but I am. I know that as a writer, I can't be sensitive. With what I hope to do in college, I need to toughen up. I'll be an adult in less than three years, yet I can't handle being yelled at? It's pathetic if I'm being quite honest.
You see that? I called myself pathetic without even blinking. I knew it was true and had no qualms with admitting it. I even do that to others sometimes. As emotional as I can be, sometimes I shut down and start inadvertently insulting others. When my mind is working, I take the time to carefully construct the truth that way it's clear and concise--without shooting down my victim's confidence. Sometimes I even try to throw in a suggestion for the solution in there. I try to be sympathetic, but sometimes I'm just not. We all have our moments of brutal honesty, and sometimes, it helps.
Other times, however, it's just insensitive. Too often, I see people struggle to call out remarks that they find offensive. Remarks that they have every right to be upset with. Because they know that, most likely, they'll be told to "grow thicker skin" or "don't think into it." There definitely are times when someone is being too sensitive, but even then, unless it's a professional environment, I don't see why adjustments can't be made. If your friend expresses hurt over a certain type of joke, why continue to make those jokes? Even if you find them funny it's as easy as not making them around said person. And if too many people get offended by your "jokes," maybe it's time to look at your definition of humor.
People say all the time that people in this day and age are more sensitive--too sensitive. Well, I wouldn't know about the former as I wasn't around just two decades ago. The latter, I have seen. Sensitivity is such a tricky thing and it's hard to place blame. For example, the notorious Hazbin Hotel. The jokes are nothing short of adult-themed and offensive. It's gotten hate for its more bottom of the barrel lines. But at the same time, it's aimed at a mature audience and set in hell. Oddly cruel jokes here and there are expected.
It really all just boils down to audience appreciation in a way. Especially in entertainment. Know your audience and the boundaries you need to be wary of to keep them. In a more business setting, there are formal ways of saying things. Nothing really should be downright offensive.

~~

So, these past few months have very clearly been difficult for me to keep up with. I've slowly lost interest in certain things and picked up interest with others. To keep my blog as tailored to me as possible, I will be making adjustments.
Mondays - N/A
Tuesdays - Tuesday Thoughts
Wednesdays - Poem Prompts
Thursdays - Show/Movie Reviews
Fridays - Lyrics Over Beat
Saturdays - 80 Lovlies
Yes, I do plan on going back and doing any missed show/movie reviews and Lovlies for March and April as I will be continuing them in May. Missed Friday Facts will remain blank as I find myself simply just not interested in them anymore. If I still continue to struggle in May as much as I have these past few months, I may return to the previous schedule. I just wanted to put this out there so that I have an official plan.

Poem Prompt: Sunrise/Sunset

Open your eyes

to the pinks,

to the reds, and to the golds.

Give way to the burst of life and light

that pushes its way past the horizon.

His rays of warmth reach far and wide,

waking everything up.

You can see now--yourself, and around you.

Dance in the bright standing daffodils

and awe at the heated gravel.

Delight your tongue with plump strawberries

and bathe in the pop of the gold until it starts to haze.

Colors and life start to give out once more--

they've been out for too long.

Go ahead, beg them to stay;

some won't, some might, some will.

But eventually, it's all too much,

and even the one who gave life and light

is now losing his spark.

He falls from the sky,

the horizon now eating him and his light up.

Watch as the golds are puffed and the pinks are dulled.

The purples then turn to the blue,

and it all then fades out to the black

with white twinkling lights.

The light's smaller, dimmer, more serene younger sister

takes his place in the sky.

She seeps through the same horizon he lost to.

Watch as she takes over

and lulls you back to sleep.

Close your eyes--

and this time--for good.

Gone

What a fitting prompt.
Everything lately seems to be disappearing just a bit. Maybe I'm being dramatic, but I believe I miss something. I wasn't exactly sure what it was until recently. I rarely left my house to begin with, unless it was for school or church, so missing going out wasn't exactly an option. Here I am, perfectly healthy, and corona-less. My mother turned out to be fine, my siblings are fine, no one that I directly know has been infected. I wasn't missing being well, I am well. Sure, I've been feeling a little empty recently, but there wasn't much for me to complain about. I've been fine throughout this whole thing. I've slept through so much recently I might as well be snowed in.
But I'm not snowed in. Outside my door, a pandemic is spreading. Stores are shutting down to the dismay of several lunatic "anti-lockdown" protestors. America's virus rates are soaring up higher than any other country with no slowing down in the near future. The people turn to the president to blame and use it as another excuse to not trust the government or its efforts. Schools are closing, businesses are flopping, and pollution levels finally drop. All the "save the earth" efforts and campaigns over the past decade and it takes an aggressive pandemic to make enough noticeable change to turn heads.
I can't even properly get into the people who are actually suffering from the virus. I read a Reddit post (it was a while back, I couldn't find it again) that had a comment from a NY frontline nurse. OP went and detailed the horrors from the hospital from how little space they had for sick patients to how dead bodies were being transported. Recently I looked up New York's deaths, there are places where no one is recovering. Out of all the infected people, there are counties with zero recoveries. It's spreading so quickly and officials are moving as fast as they can. Praise people like Jennifer Haller for stepping into the unknown.
Shame on those like me, sitting here, sleeping through it all.

Poem Prompts: Silence and Song

You've never been silenced.

Maybe a few times, if we must be honest,

but not as often as would be assumed.

Most of the time,

you silence yourself.

When encouraged to sing,

you triple think

and shush your own voice.

What a fool you make of your talents.

They tell you to think twice--

and only twice;

think more and you've overthought.

Which can be worse than to have not thought at all.

At least when you don't think,

you can sing.

A child doesn't think

and simply belts out the notes.

The most beautiful, passionate notes

come from the freest hearts.

Tuning comes later--

thinking comes later.

They tell you not to mature too fast,

to enjoy the youth, and hold on to fragments of it forever.

Youth gives the confidence,

the bliss, and the excitement to shut down thinking.

Hold on to it, and be sure to only think twice;

think no more, and allow yourself to sing.

Music

I love music. I really do. I just can't partake in it.
Music and anything that has to do with it--singing, acting, instruments--has just never been for me. I've joined a choir, chorus, paid as much attention in music class, and sharpened my techniques(very basic ones though, seeing as I only learned during school hours). I participated in singing events and trained my voice. I can confidently say I knew how to sing, I just didn't have the voice. Despite focusing on breathing from my diaphragm, over pronouncing my vowels, maintaining posture, and not gasping for air mid-song. I had a very long dancing phase, however. It went as far as me believing I'd be on World of Dance with zero training whatsoever. I grew out of it eventually, but I still enjoy dancing and love to perform on a stage.
I always struggled with singing, however. I've always wanted to be able to sing but never really figured it out. It felt like everyone I knew had a decent singing ability, even the ones who claimed they were bad. I tried so hard to develop it, but didn't really get much support at home and was left to use resources found at school. At some point, any comments towards my singing that weren't from my music teacher, I started to take them to heart. I never internalized any negative comments she made because she was clearly trying her best to help. Everyone else, I just saw it as another reminder I couldn't sing.
Now, not to make this a pity story, I'll shorten it. My last attempt to learn was two years ago. My voice was hitting puberty and I only saw myself getting worse and gave up. I'll sing when I'm alone or with someone I trust. But too many insults on my voice and I just shut up entirely. I've been called dramatic for this reaction, but I really don't see any better non-confrontational ways of silencing the comments.
The only reason I continue to sing in the first place is because of what music means to me. Especially during this whole quarantine, 8 Legged Dreams is one of the few songs keeping me relatively sane. (Galaxy Music: Unlike Pluto - 8 Legged Dreams) It helps me focus on this schoolwork, which honestly, I've lost motivation for. I listen to it while writing and exercising. Or when I'm tired and need something to burn some time.
I am the kind of person who will come home from a stressful day and instead of sleeping, I'll just play music and stare off into space. It's therapeutic. I get to imagine scenarios and take my mind away for a minute. If I'm upset, it's my time to release. I can sit and think through whatever I'm trying to get through. I can cry, scream, vent off, and there'll be a nice ambient beat ready to catch me when I collapse. Certain songs help for when I don't even know what I'm feeling. It helps me identify my emotions. Moments like these are when I get my best ideas if I'm focused enough. My phone's notes are filled with little jots from these spirals.
There's a real reason why music is played in the background of most movies and songs. I didn't know it at first, but after I first cried to an AJR song, I understood. For a lot of people, music helps you stay in tune with the more sentimental parts of life.

Poem Prompt: Seeing

As time goes on,

I open my eyes a bit more.

As they gradually deteriorate,

I start to see better.

My vision, it's failing me.

I can't see past my arm.

But I can see what's inside

of myself and others.

I'm learning to identify--

learning how to recognize--

a person's soul, their intentions.

And I'm gradually starting

to see inside my own.

I'm seeing what I really want

and what I need.

By the time I blink my eyes

and I've blinked my last.

My mind will take over

and show me things my retinas couldn't reveal.

And, I hope

that I'll be happy with that.

Vision

Wow, it's nice to finally post on time.
So, my eyesight's always been terrible. Even back when I didn't realize just how bad it was, I knew something was wrong. As a small girl, if I sat on the couch to watch T.V. I would end up straining my eyes because of how much I needed to squint to see it. People always pointed it out and I started becoming hyper-aware of just how much I squinted while watching T.V. I would try to squint enough so I could just make out the image on the screen, but not so much to where passersby could see me struggling. I denied up and down that I needed glasses until my doctor confirmed it a little while after my eleventh birthday. I got glasses that summer and were all but reliant on them for a year. I genuinely believed that they would correct my eyesight. If anything, my eyes quickly became dependent on glasses and got much worse, much faster. By the end of sixth grade and through seventh, I started only wearing my glasses when I felt I needed them. If we were doing a class discussion where I needed to see something up in front, I'd wear them. But if it was individual work in front of my face or something that required physical activity, I refused. And, honestly, my frame was too thin to really flatter me anyways.
Since then, I'm less extreme with when I do and don't wear them. I tend to never wear them indoors, however. And I still refuse to wear them for physical activities. But it's more of a balance now. Sixth grade, many people were only used to me wearing them and were surprised when I took them off. Seventh grade, a few people didn't even know I had them. Since eighth, my newer friends say that they're equally accustomed to both looks. I occasionally get someone asking where my glasses are if I leave them off for too long, but other than that both are pretty normalized.
Still, I struggle with seeing in general. My eyes are easily irritated, they constantly feel like they're in pain, and I always feel like I look so tired. My field of sight is continually getting shorter and I'm starting to learn how to recognize letters from a distance. I used to be genuinely afraid of going blind, but now I doubt that possibility. And for that, I'm grateful. My eyesight's started plateauing a bit so I'm not as worried. It's still plausible, just not as likely. Maybe with a bit more care, my eyes might last longer than I'd predicted.
Frankly, it helps me appreciate my body more. My eyes are the one thing I consistently struggle with, and it serves as a small reminder to protect the parts of my body I don't need to pay as much attention to. My blurry vision, in some ways, pushes me to exercise more. I take on these health challenges because I know that if my whole body fell into the same state my eyes are in, I would crumble to the ground. I'm sitting on my bed right now as I write this, and when I glance up to my analog clock on the wall, I can't read it. I can't see any of the lines, big or small, and can barely see the numbers. I can guess the time though--around twenty minutes to midnight.
And, I should sleep.
Sleep is good for my eyes.

Movie Review: Zapped

A little blast from the past. Well, my past at least.
Zapped is a one-hour-and-forty-two-minute long family fantasy movie. It was released on June 24, 2014, in the U.S., and was directed by Peter DeLuise, who is mostly known for his role as Officer Doug Penhall in 21 Jump Street. He also directed 16 Wishes with James Jandrisch who composed the themes for both 16 Wishes and Zapped. They both have a history of more mature fictional/fantasy movies and how either of them wound up on Disney is beyond me.
Zapped features Zendaya Coleman in the lead role of Zoey Stevens. We start by seeing the marriage between her birth mother and her new step-father. From the get-go, Zoey clearly hates the new arrangement. To be fair, going from being the only child/daughter living with a single mom to having three brothers and a football step-dad is quite the change. It's chaotic there. No one is adjusting to anyone and it causes a mess that stains Zoey's school outfit. Zoey and her mom try to take their time and be organized while her step-dad and brothers are messy and rushing. Alas, the boys v. girls theme sat within the rest of the movie and became a driving force. I audibly sighed the eighteenth time she brought up how gross boys are. How they even fit in a romance arc amid "cooties" is beyond me. Isn't she supposed to be a freshman in high school? As a fellow freshman, I'm insulted.
But, not only does the "boys suck" theme showcase Zoey as stuck up and entitled, but it also dehumanizing the boys of this movie. So many of them are disgusting, unkept, rowdy, loud, destructive--the list goes on. Sure, plenty of boys are like this, but only to a degree. The movie quite literally has four zombie-looking guys sitting in front of the school harboring in their own filth and flies. Yuck. If anything, other high school boys would relentlessly bully these vermins into taking a shower. Cruel, sure. But no fellow high schooler would excuse it with "boys, amirite?"
With all the male hatred the movie has thrown at us, all it takes is a boy to actually shower before school and follow the "lemme show you to your class" trope to form a love interest. Zoey walks into the wrong class and the misunderstood-bad-boy shows off his knowledge and refuses to take off his sunglasses. Jackson Kale, played by Spencer Boldman. (Yes, the pretty boy from lab rats.) He's sent to walk Zoey to his class and the two have a nice conversation. Cause he's a normal boy, and normal boys and girls can have nice conversations. He then looks her up and down, dubs her Smartphone because of her phone obsession and walks off. Honestly, Smartphone is such a dumb nickname I can't be mad at it. What I can be mad at is Taylor Dean, the entitled blonde, spying on her ex-boyfriend flirting with the new girl. Ugh, I hate that trope and by proxy, hate her.
And what do you know, Taylor's the dance team captain. And, what else do you know, Zoey's a talented dancer(she's played by Zendaya, why wouldn't she be) who wants in on the team. So, naturally, she turns out to be the only one who can dance but doesn't make the team because Taylor hates her. After some begging, she puts her on JV, the "bad" team. Which, freshmen rarely make varsity so why she thinks that's gonna demoralize Zoey is unknown. If anything, all it does is give her a chance to watch varsity from a distance and fuel her longing to join. Chanelle, the best friend, is kinda plopped in beside her. Her dance skills aren't really consistent. In the beginning, she has two huge left feet to allow Zoey shine, during practice she can suddenly keep up because the team has to sync up but girls can't follow the commands, and during the performance, the whole team is suddenly amazing. I would say a natural progression but...considering the dance-off is meant to "kick-off" the basketball season, I refuse to believe it's been more than a month.*
Onto the main plot, her phone becomes magic. In some freak accident you have to see to believe, Zoey's dog-trainer app now controls all boys/men. My initial question was why only boys? Well, "girls are too catty." That is quite literally Chanelle's quoted guess as to why and the closest thing we get to an explanation. This isn't okay.
And, as anyone with a magic boy-controlling app would do, Chanelle and Zoey abuse this. They start forcing people to do what they want against their will. Zoey, in the lowest point of the whole movie, even uses it to sabotage the varsity team into messing up their dance during practice. She then proceeds to berate Taylor, which is where I stopped caring for her character. Jackson sees and rightfully suggests they stop seeing each other. She then uses her magic phone to make him kiss her(cheek, this is Disney). The pinnacle of Zoey's hypocrisy. She preaches night and day about how competitive, reckless, and intolerable boys are and turns around to do this.
The practice is cut short(you all have a dance-off tonight, you can't stay in sync without a magic phone, and you end the practice because you're bummed out???) and Zoey goes home and wallows in shame. Not once does she look for her phone, and by the time she realizes Taylor stole it, Taylor's abusing it. Isn't your principal a woman? Report that a student stole your phone and outright refused to return it. Boom, charge her, suspend her, and get the phone back. Instead, they choose a more humiliation approach. Zoey gets on the ground and starts acting like a dog to entertain her. Her family and Jackson(who showed up too late to hear Taylor's commands) break free and join her. Cute, but this does nothing. Chanelle ends up being the one to retrieve the phone and Zoey really just uses the moment to show off her character growth. 
Now, the dance-off.
Well...varsity sucked. The outfits show a clear power imbalance that is showcased in the dance. Taylor and her minion remain in the front and center of the few lousy formations they pull off while the other dancers spend too much time turned around. I would understand this if Taylor was doing a stunt or a show-stopper, but no. She does the same moves as the others but with a brighter smile. And the choreo was way too slow/simple for the packed song they chose.
JV, on the other hand, was amazing. As expected. The Haka used at the beginning fit beautifully (though seeing as Zoey treated it with disdain earlier, it's a little disrespectful) and opened up the perfect song for their choreo. The formations give in to each other so smoothly and everyone in the group has a turn in the front to show off and in the back to give way. They win and Zoey somehow still gets Jackson to go on a date with her. Sigh.

*The timing for seasons is all off. This is meant to be the beginning of the year, so this is the fall season. The fall season for any sport always starts before the actual first day of school. I was thinking of auditioning for dance freshman year. There were training camps and medicals in June and July, tryouts were late July and early August and the official season started mid-August. Basketball follows a similar pattern. By the start of school, both sports should've been halfway through the season.

Poem Prompt: Unknown

Mama sent me out--we were out of mangoes
and Junior wailed for more.
I scruffed and walked to the tree grove.
Admittedly, it wasn't too far out.
The island was only so big,
and there were only so many feet you could fit in
between us and the trees.
I joined the other women in the grove,
picking a day's worth of fruit.
No less so Junior wouldn't complain until tomorrow.
No more so there would be fruit for others.

A boat washed up on the shore,
its dashboards creaked
as its support hit the sand
and crumpled from the impact.
My entire life, I hadn't seen anything like it.
Up until then, I had never really been sure of what a boat even was.
A pile of wood that floated on water?
And it was meant to carry me? A whole person?
Nonsense.
But when I saw full-grown men clambering out of the wooden trap,
my eyes widened.
I guess a ship was more than nonsense.

I had frozen in place--I didn't know what to do.
I watched as they hauled out supplies
and set up what looked like a camp.
The other women quickly went away,
leaving me alone with the men.
Though, I doubt they even acknowledged me.
I was a good distance away and still among the trees.
I was thin enough and they were tired enough--
maybe I looked like a tree.
So I stood there, gawking.

I suppose one of the women noticed me.
I felt a small, cool hand on my shoulder,
pulling me back.
Obediently, I followed.
I kept my head down and didn't catch a face.
But, I saw her delicately embroidered ankles,
a sign of a woman of status.
I kept my head bowed,
in respect.

That night I tossed and turned,
curiosity kept my brain churning.
I thought of the men--
big and scruffy,
exhausted and desperate for rest.
I looked to my side, where Junior lay still.
Silent, unmoving--perfect for creeping past.
I rushed out the window, quieter than Papa in deep thought.
The moon was so dim I could hardly see my feet.
So, I walked slowly and stood tall, fluffing the curls on my head.
Surely, anyone looking out their window wouldn't blink twice at a tree.

I made it to the grove and stooped down to the bushes.
Crawling along, I watched out for sticks and roaches.
I knew the grove like my palm,
I could sense when I was nearing the edge closest to the shore.
Finally, I popped my head up,
hoping to be a bush.
To my dismay, the camp was gone.
Maybe I was mistaken?

I stood up now and limbered out of the leaves.
Walking along the shore, I saw no sign of the men.
No ship, no camp, no supplies--
nothing.
The water was still and the sands were whole,
as if nothing had ever crashed into it.
I started to wonder
if it was all just a dream.
I looked down to my feet--to check if this was a dream.
Alas, my feet were still there.
And, maybe a foot away from them, so was a bottle.
It reflected my face and the moonlight well
and I could see clearly through it.
In it was a small piece of paper.
Scrabbled on it:
u n k n o w n.