Pulp Fiction, The Blogging Conundrum and Suicidal Singers

Pulp Fiction is one of my favorite movies of all time. It was only in the past three months that I had actually watched it, but in those three months I've probably seen the movie six times, and I have been watching all of Quentin Tarantino's movies. I'm writing about this because two nights ago I watched it again with my mom, sister and dad. Both my mother and father had seen it, but it was my sister's first time. My mother told me she had seen it and liked it, but couldn't remember it at all. Pulp Fiction is my father's favorite movie. After we finished watching I asked my sister what she thought and she said she liked it, then my mother informed me that she no longer liked the movie. Honestly I was expecting that. My mother isn't one who enjoys cursing and can't see any humor in killing, and her face during the scene where Zed raped Marcellus was more than hysterical. But what really makes me think is that there was once a time when she actually enjoyed the movie. I was never a believer in the idea that people actually could change, but it seems like she has. I guess after all these years of being a mother her instincts tell her that she can't like those type of things. Tonight I'm going to see Django Unchained, I have high hopes and I hope that my mother can forget her instincts and just enjoy the movie for the beauty and art that it is. 
I know that I haven't been blogging that often, but I have actually been meaning to change. The issue is that my grandfather has an obsession with online spider solitaire and spends all his time on the computer. Today I got a Mac, so I can blog more often. I actually started a journal two months ago and I have been writing in it daily, but because I don't get to use the computer I couldn't type up any of my ideas.
Three days ago i went to a theater in Manhattan called El Repretorio Espanol. It is a theater where they preform and write plays in Spanish. I went and saw a concert about Latin American female singers, where they preformed a bunch of old songs that I grew up listening to. Before each song the pianist gives a little story about the artist, where she came from, what her struggle was, and other information. During the last song, Gracias a la Vida by Violeta Parra, the pianist informed us that Ms. Parra killed herself recently after writing this song. Gracias a la Vida means thank you for life. It is a song that I've heard countless times and it is part of my childhood, but I never knew the connotation behind the song. She killed herself because of love, and wrote that song as her last influence on the earth. She thanked god for everything but really she was thanking him for giving her life, but that she couldn't handle it, so she had to give it back.