Adolescence (Weekly Movie/Show Review #1)

I’ve decided to dedicate one day of the week to reviewing movies or shows. My mainstream media consumption has dropped drastically since the early 2000s, but I still occasionally watch the stuff everyone seems to be talking about.

As an author in progress, I’m naturally interested in how other storytellers design their characters, develop their plots, and craft their dialogue. So I try to make it a habit to watch at least one or two films a week—even when the major sports leagues are in full swing, work is demanding, and social media is having its latest heyday.

A few days ago, Adolescence was back in the headlines after winning several awards. I can certainly understand the recognition for the young actor who played the boy—he was excellent, especially in the episode where he’s interviewed by the female detective.

But the overall praise the show receives feels somewhat manufactured.

Adolescence tackles one of the main socio-political narratives that the establishment seems eager to promote: “Men are bad—therefore, we need more state control to correct them.”

The show is set in England, where women are statistically far more likely to be threatened by the consequences of mass migration. To avoid that uncomfortable topic, the creators chose to make the killer a white boy—effectively inverting real-world crime statistics.

Instead of sparking a conversation about migration, the series redirects the discussion toward misogyny. As a result, Adolescence becomes a subtle yet insidious piece of propaganda that’s now reportedly used in classrooms to “educate” boys—what a joke.

The show itself doesn’t dig very deep. It never ventures beyond what’s politically acceptable and feels like a typical product of a system that takes no creative risks and refuses to explore the root causes of the issues it raises out of fear of getting cancelled.

Awards are handed out. Critics adore it. In today’s climate, that’s often a clear sign of something not worth your time.

Still, the series holds a respectable 8.1 rating on IMDb, suggesting that audiences enjoyed it.

I couldn’t—despite great acting Adolescence is simply too ideologically driven for my taste.

Adolescence on IMDB

I Will Never Publish Ads on My Blog

First impressions matter. Everyone likes to claim they care about what’s inside — about who a person truly is. But the truth is, we don’t have enough time to get to know everyone deeply. So we all make quick judgments. Within a few seconds, we decide whether someone is worth investing more of our time.

What’s true in real life applies even more online.

When I stumble upon a new YouTube channel, I scan the thumbnails and check the most popular videos. It’s shallow, sure — but if those don’t catch my attention, I move on. On Twitter, I make that decision even faster. And when it comes to blogs, it’s no different.

If a website greets me with pop-ups, sign-up forms, and flashy, blinking sidebars trying to sell me something I never asked for, I immediately lose interest. The writing might be amazing, but once the ads hit me in the face, I’m gone.

To me, a blog is like a personal business card. It represents who you are and gives complete strangers their first impression of you. And I don’t want that impression to be that of a salesman desperate to make a quick buck.

Years ago, I used to read a website called Danger & Play by Mike Cernovich. Around 2016, Cernovich stopped publishing, but before that, I visited his site almost every day. When he finally released a book, I bought it without hesitation. Then I bought the follow-up, and even a collection of his best blog posts. When he launched a podcast, I listened. When he tried YouTube, I subscribed.

At no point did he ever have to sell me anything. I’d been reading his blog for years, and when he released a printed book, I felt like I owed him my support. It wasn’t the relationship between a salesman and a customer — it was more like helping a friend out who’d helped me for years.

That’s the kind of relationship every personal blogger should strive for. You don’t want readers to see you as a salesman looking for easy money. You want to be a friend — someone genuinely trying to help. And when your readers feel that you’ve truly helped them, they’ll naturally want to give something back.

No ads required. No hard selling.

Just a simple announcement:

Hey, my next book is out. If you’re interested, here’s a link.

And after that announcement is out of the way, get right back to doing what matters most: writing something that helps or at least entertains your reader.

If You’re a Blogger, Promote Your Writing Here

Besides running my own blog, I also love discovering and reading great ones. But lately, it’s been getting harder and harder to find truly good blogs out there. So I thought I’d give my readers a chance to promote their own work here. That way, I’ll find new and interesting things to read, and you’ll get the chance to reach new readers by hijacking my site.

This invitation is open to anyone who creates content online — bloggers, vloggers, podcasters, authors — everyone’s welcome.

Yet, here’s what I’m most interested in:

  • Authors who write about writing and how to promote their work
  • Bloggers who share stories about their everyday lives
  • Travel, fitness, the broad topic of self-improvement, and making money online
  • Vloggers are welcome too
  • Motorbike riding, sailing, flying planes, surfing
  • Philosophy and exchange of ideas (the more controversial the ideas are, the more I’m interested)

As I said, basically everything is welcome. The only thing I don’t want is corporatism — if your goal is simply to sell a product, please don’t bother. I’m looking for real people creating real content.

If that sounds like you, feel free to say hello in the comments, tell me and my readers what your content is about, and drop a link to your main platform.

What if you build it and no one comes?

To be honest, I often doubt whether my efforts to become a successful writer will actually lead to success. Every year, millions of people publish books—on Amazon alone. Millions more have a manuscript hidden in a drawer, waiting to see the light of day. It seems almost everyone believes they can write a book.

On social media, everyone wants to be famous. There are more than 100 million YouTube channels as I write these lines. Kids today dream first and foremost of being influencers and vloggers, flooding the market at an insane pace.

As if that weren’t enough, AI looms on the horizon—a fierce competitor for humans in nearly every creative field.

So what if I write 5,000 blog posts, publish 100 books, and send 100,000 tweets, yet never find an audience?

It’s possible. Maybe even likely.

The internet will change again in the future, and the next shift might render everything I do today irrelevant.

But that only matters if I measure success in terms of external rewards. Of course, I’d love to make a living as a writer, to have a million readers on my blog, and a loyal following on social media. But above all, I want to tell the stories in my head. I believe they’re unique—dare I say, even good. Having others read (and buy) them would be fantastic, but the deeper reward lies in simply getting them out of my head and onto the page. That alone makes the work worth doing.

Ten years from now, I hope I’ll be able to say I’m a successful author. But I can’t count on it. Yet I can count on being able to say my stories and ideas are out there, waiting for anyone who wants to discover them.

So I’ll keep building—no matter how many people come…

Real-Time Biography Blogging

I think this term is the best way to describe what I’m doing here.

A decade ago, blogging was a much bigger thing. But even before social media took over, I was only really interested in the kind of blogs I now call real-time biography blogs.

I remember one guy in particular who wrote about losing weight and getting fit from his personal perspective. At some point, he realized that his true passion wasn’t fitness—or even writing. It was baking. I kid you not: the guy went from blogging about weight loss to baking his own croissants. Later, he announced that baking had taken up so much of his life that he no longer had time to write. A few weeks after that, his site disappeared.

The strange part is, I was super in to it. Reading his posts became a daily highlight for me. I checked his multiple times a day for new posts, re-read old entries just for fun, and even picked up solid workout advice that I used in my own routine.

Baking isn’t really my thing. I don’t like croissants. But I still read his posts about his newfound baking passion. They were fun. They were exciting. Every update felt like catching up with a friend.

His website originally had one of those generic marketing-style names—I’ve forgotten exactly what it was. But it had nothing to do with croissants or baking in general. It simply happened. His blog evolved. In real time. Just like life does.

Those are the kinds of blogs I find the most interesting. You see the same thing on YouTube with vlogs: people just recording their lives as they unfold. And if it’s done honestly and openly, the story can develop in directions nobody could predict.

That’s what I want to create here—and with my online persona in general.

My ultimate goal is to become a “real” author, which for me means making a living by writing and selling my stories. How I’ll get there is still unclear. I might even take some strange detours while figuring it out. Who knows—maybe I’ll end up writing about baking croissants one day. I doubt it, but that’s the nature of real-time biography blogging: nobody knows where it’s going. Not even the blogger.