Looking back, looking forward; Updates

After hitting the "PUBLISH POST" button at the bottom of my screen here I will have written one blog post a day for an entire month. One down, eleven to go. I can't come up with a cogent argument as to this experiment having a positive effect on my writing, but at least it's gotten me to sit in front of the computer and actually think instead of falling into the routine of cycling through the same websites until I look at the clock and egads how long have I been here I was supposed to find a recipe for falafel and all I've done is watch twelve videosofdogsridingturtlesgaah! Hmm, and apparently it hasn't curbed my proclivity to ramble. I swear I don't typically write run-on sentences! I love grammar and spelling and punctuation!

For the next month I'll make a word bank of 37 Interesting Words and try to use one word in every post, rather than give myself seven days to use seven words. Good thing February's a short month. And it's that the beginning of the next month also includes the beginning of the lunar (not Chinese!) New Year. Thursday marks the start of the Year of the Rabbit. I have hope for the new year, that it'll be better than the last.

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Currently reading:
Eleven by Patricia Reilly Giff
The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins (reading it a second time)

Recently viewed:
Avatar: The Last Airbender, Book I, Vol. I: Water (Nickelodeon TV series)
Underdog (2007)
10 Things I Hate About You (1999) by Gil Junger
Coupling season 2 (BBC)

Movie Review: The Wrong Trousers

I have "The Adventures of Wallace and Gromit" on DVD, which includes the following 30-minute short films: A Grand Day Out, The Wrong Trousers, and A Close Shave. Yesterday I watched the second film, which features ex-NASA robo-pants, the machinations of penguin disguised as a chicken, and a chase sequence on a model train set. Fantastic stuff.

The Wrong Trousers is the second film starring Wallace and Gromit but it isn't necessary to have seen A Grand Day Out to enjoy it. It's not a sequel but the first scene gives a tacit nod to the first film by means of a newspaper headline. It starts on Gromit's birthday, and Wallace has spent quite a bit of money for gifts for the dog. One present is a collar and lead (leash); the other is the titular trousers, which feature vacuum-suctioning feet and can be programmed to walk the dog. Wallace, the man and inventor, is thrilled about this, but Gromit is...not. And much to Gromit's chagrin, Wallace sublets a spare room to a penguin in order to recompense the money spent for gifts. Gromit has a bad feeling about the penguin, and his suspicions are confirmed when...well, you'll have to find out for yourself.

The animation is much improved but still maintains charm, soul and inventiveness. Like the previous film, Wallace has the only dialogue in the film--if it can be called dialogue. He speaks but gets nonverbal responses. Gromit has a mouth (somewhere in that head) but doesn't use it to speak. He conveys a range of emotions with his expressive little brow and gestures. The music does a lot to give more weight to the actions, and has a sort of 1950's-B-horror-movie vibe to it. Ah, and there are so many little visual gags put in, some that are quietly tongue-in-cheek and others that are laugh-out-loud hilarious. This is cinema: great storytelling, artfully directed visuals and complementary soundtrack. A half-hour very well spent.

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Hooray for the Performing Arts!

A month ago I took someone to go see "The Nutcracker". Back when we did ballet we were both in the same production and it was fun to relive those times through the costumes and music. All the choreography was different but just as exciting and breathtaking. The ballerina who performed as the Dew Drop Fairy was particularly memorable and ebullient. Everyone usually remembers the Sugar Plum Fairy or the Snow Queen because they have more time on stage, but the Dew Drop Fairy for that day was my hands-down favorite dancer of that performance.

Seeing that ballet reminded me of why I love the performing arts. Whether it's opening night or the 16th performance out of 20, every performance is something special and different and has never been seen before. I love that energy that goes back and forth between performers and the audience, and the moments where I forget where I am because I'm so absorbed in what's happening on stage. One of my other resolutions for this years is to see more shows and the one chance I had this month didn't work out, but whether I have to sign up to usher or try my luck with student rush tickets I'm determined to see a show next month.

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Movie Review: No Strings Attached

I enjoyed this film as much as I expected. Good romantic comedies are hard to come by so I didn't expect this one to be the apotheosis of this genre. The cast is solid and the b-plot supplied by supporting characters was actually sweet and interesting and given an appropriate amount of time. Ashton Kutcher does his charming rom-com nice guy character and it's obvious that he and Natalie Portman had a lot of fun making this movie. I think slightly more time is given to Ashton Kutcher's character but Portman's garners more sympathy and empathy. Even though this is just a fun romantic comedy where good-looking people make kissings with other good-looking people there are some genuinely lovely parts. But the movie is essentially "Zach and Miri Make a Porno" with more romance than comedy and more commodified attitude toward sex. I can think of a more enjoyable way to have spent time with my friend, but I didn't mind going with her to see this and don't regret it.

In short:

Trailer Review: Never Say Never

Both this movie and "No Strings Attached" were produced by Paramount Pictures, so despite having different target demographics this movie's trailer is huckstered before the screening of the later. That's the only reason why I saw this trailer in the first place, but I really didn't mind sitting through it. I might have laughed out loud more during this trailer than for the entirety of "No Strings Attached", but that's a subject for another time.

There was a collective groan in the theater when it dawned on everyone that this was not just a teen pop star concert movie, but the teen pop star concert movie. In 3D, no less! Really, this is the closest that most fans (Beliebers) will ever get to Justin Beiber.

In all honesty if I were ten years younger I'd probably be superexcitedlikeomgJustinBeiber about this movie. As a young adult I have nothing against the Beibs and feel like this is a perfectly adequate movie trailer. This has a built-in fanbase and is sure to deliver on everything it promises: a behind-the-scenes look at his daily life, retrospective on how he shot to stardom, and most important of all the concert footage that includes close-ups and wide-angle lenses for maximum appreciation of the enormous production value. I'm not saying this is the next "Shine a Light" (documentary by Martin Scorsese on the Rolling Stones on their "A Bigger Bang" tour), but it looks phenomenally entertaining. I can't wait to read what Roger Ebert has to say about this film.

Side note: I'm a bit of a Justin Beiber apologist. I'm not his number one fan and only know a handful of his songs, but I find them pretty good as far as pop songs go. I don't find anything really objectionable about him. Well, maybe the weird obsession with his hair, but it's not his fault it's so swishy.

Character sketch: Peter

It's not his real name but for the purpose of this blog I'm going to call him Peter. He's the conductor of the orchestra I'm in and during rehearsal the other night it occurred to me that it might be fun to write about him. Some other orchestra members would also make for interesting side characters for...something to write about in the future? But for now: the orchestra conductor.

Peter is from Siberia and speaks English with a bit of an accent. "Celli" (plural of cello, pronounced "chel-lee") comes out of his mouth as chee-yell-lee, so the word has three syllables rather than two distinct ones. He pronounces his v's as w's but it's not that noticeable unless you're like me and pick up on this kind of stuff. He has a predilection for stopping the orchestra to tell anecdotes about the other orchestra he conducts, which is at a local public high school. The combination of his accent and personality make for amusing storytelling, because it's hard to figure out if the story is intended to be comical or insightful until the very end. He's of average height and weight, has dusty-brown hair and blue eyes behind glasses. He sits on a stool on the conductor's podium and leans forward on it slightly when conducting us. Peter holds the baton upwards in his right hand, and his motions are something between sculpting invisible clouds and slicing invisible zombies.

Just one of those days...

Another tepid attempt at a blog post. Some days I have several topics about which I feel motivated to write, but today nothing really strikes my fancy. I'm a bit tired because I slept later than usual in order to finish reading "The Hunger Games". Oh yes, it's that good and un-put-down-able. I'm half-tempted to write a review but have resolved to post one after I finish it a second time. I still clearly remember everything that transpires but I want to revisit it for character development and style analysis. Even with my ever-diminishing bank account I'm considering buying the whole trilogy because I feel it'd be worth my money. Some books I like to own (I have two copies of the Complete Adventures of Sherlock Holmes), others I like to repeatedly check out of the library. Maybe I'll devote a future post to my idiosyncrasies regarding books.

Challenge for This Week, Updates

(image from Natalie Dee)

I make lots of lists for myself-- not Top 5 lists like Rob Gordon of "High Fidelity" but more like notes of things of interest to me. I have a list of movies to watch, books to read, clothes I need for the season, and words to use. It seems that every time I check something off a list I add a few more items on there. Anyway, I've always had the most trouble working through that last category.

Until now.

Well, that's the hope. I'm going to list 7 words from that list and make myself incorporate on of them in each blog post for the next week.

Ebullient

Tepid

Huckster

Predilection

Cogent

Apotheosis

Machination

I don't plan my posts in advance but write about whatever strikes my fancy that day. I hope that I won't be completely stuck on the last day and end up writing to use the word rather than using the word in my writing.

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Currently reading:

The Egypt Game by Zilpha Keatley Snyder
The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

Recently viewed movies:

No Strings Attached (2011), dir. by Ivan Reitman

last half-hour of The Dark Knight (2008) by Christopher Nolan

My Dream House, as of this moment

I have a picture in my head of how I might be living in ten years. I see myself in Chicago, living in a tiny but adequate one-bedroom apartment with my dog Cerberus (I've never owned one or had a favorite breed so I can't be more specific on this point). I'm wearing a Chicago Bears beanie and my downy black winter coat, my hands stuffed in my pockets because I forgot to grab my mittens (again); I hurriedly stomp through the city to get to catch my train. I love my job but it leaves me little time for myself, but it's okay as long as I can afford "me time" and artisan cheese.

My Dream House bears very little resemblance to my imagined future. After watching the complete The Lord of the Rings trilogy and reading The Hobbit I've decided I want to live like a hobbit, in something akin to a hobbit hole. It'd be warm in the winter and tolerable in the summer, but I won't be indoors much that time of year anyway. I'm not terribly fond of the doorknob located in the center of the door, but I suppose I could live with it as long as all the interior doors were typically placed. I want my bedroom to face the east, so that I wake up to the sunrise. My living room should face southwest or northwest so I can enjoy both the sunset and the warm evening fire kindling in my fireplace. I will have two whole walls devoted to two enormous bookshelves, with one of those library ladders that can roll across both walls-- not that my ceilings will be very high but I'm short so the ladders would be necessary. And fun. Outside I will have a pear orchard and vegetable garden and flowers for every window. I don't exactly have a green thumb, but I don't have the opposite of that (a red thumb?) so I'll acquire my own Samwise Gamgee to be my gardener and companion. Oh, and I'll harvest sunshine, too ;I want a field of solar panels to give me enough power to live off the grid. All things considered I think this part of my Dream House is the most unrealistic -- I can't really harvest that much solar power if I don't live in a place that is perpetually sunny-- but it's fun to pretend that all this is feasible and mine. Hopefully I'll find some happy medium between these two imagined scenarios.

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Evening mourning

I'll try to make this quick since I'm on a friend's computer and tired. I've been avoiding about what's been going on in my life, how I'm feeling that day. But this has keep coming up all week, culminating today and I need to get it down here. Pure, selfish catharsis for which I only half-heartedly apologize.

I've been thinking of death a lot recently, and it's been popping up on TV, books, current events and personal events:

- the sitcom "How I Met Your Mother" dealt with the loss of the father of one of the main characters and the last words from father to son

- just finished reading "Dead Man Walking", which recounts the days leading up to the execution of two death-row inmates and families of victims of violence

- the shooting in Tuscon two weeks ago

- one of my high school peers passed away on Monday, and I attended her funeral service this morning

- one of the doctors who went with me to Nicaragua-- who had gone there ever summer for the past 10 years-- passed away on Tuesday

- the last day of this month marks two years since the passing of my grandfather, my father's father

I don't have anything particularly profound or insightful to add about death or loss or the process of grieving. I keep going to that oft quoted line from "Braveheart", about remembering how people live and not how they died. No amount of crying will bring them back. Still it's important-- it feels important-- to have time to grieve. For me that time is now.

Tattoos, and related topics

Catalyst: About a week ago my friend showed me a picture from the internet and asked me if she thought it would look good as a tattoo.

- the thing that fascinates me about scars is that they're the unintentional tattoos, markings etched in the skin that can never be completely undone

- I was amused to have been asked this kind of question, most of all because I'm terrible when it comes to Important, Irreversible Decisions

- I don't have any tattoos; I'm not against them but there's nothing that I'd want to have inked on my skin for the rest of my life, however long that may be.

- Well, I have a thing against the Chinese character tattoo fad (is it still a fad?). Yeah they look nice and all but doesn't it actually lose some if it's meaning if you don't speak Chinese (Mandarin, Cantonese, Shanghainese, et. al.). I get that it's pritty and succinct but just get "Beauty" written in some cool Gothic calligraphy instead.

- Okay, and I guess I'm also more inclined to like tattoos that are just black or sepia-colored.

-I really like this sleeve, but most of it has to do with how much I like the personality of the person who's arm it's on. (English language fail!)

-I liked getting henna done on my hands since it only lasts a week or so, but feel slightly like it's an misappropriation of Hindu culture to get it done simply for fun! Ha ha ha! rather than to commemorate something significant.

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"A Study in Scarlet"

Considering recent technical difficulties and the exceedingly lengthy previous post I'm going to make this a mini-book review. Well, as "mini" as I can stand to make it.

As intriguing as "Dead Man Walking" is, it doesn't make for good bedtime reading. I'm fond of reading any Sherlock Holmes story before I go to bed; I can start and finish one in the time that it takes my eyes to go from "a little tired" to "can't keep open". I hadn't read "A Study in Scarlet" in a while so I chose to revisit it in the past few nights, despite the fact that it's a proper book, with chapters, instead of a self-contained short story.

First-time readers beware: five of the fourteen chapters take place in a third-person flashback that takes place in barren Utah. It starts of as dry as the land described, but gets much better and makes more sense. Not all Sherlock Holmes stories are like this, so it might be more fun to first read any other story besides this, "Sign of Four" and "The Valley of Fear." But logically it's the best place to start because it describes how Holmes and Watson meet and follows Watson's first case with him.

This is Doyle's first Holmes story, and having read many other stories before this one it was fascinating to see how the author introduced this famous detective and the instant chemistry (pun intended) sparked between Holmes and his biographer. Not my favorite but has a good amount of twists and dramatic chapter endings. Any time I get to spend with Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson is time well-spent.

Julian Matthias and I: Our first audition together

A few months after I got my new, full-size violin Julian Matthias I auditioned for the Northeast Junior District Orchestra. I didn't know much about this group, but I knew that I wanted to be part of it. I had to audition before I got in, so I received the audition piece and scale requirements and set to work.

The adjudicators would ask to play two scales, one major and one minor with a maximum of three sharps or flats, and the piece was Fritz Kreisler's "Sicilienne and Rigadoun". At the time I had been playing the violin for 7 years and the audition requirements matched my skill level. I felt pretty competent performing in recitals and with orchestras, but auditions...well, in an audition no one would applaud after I finished, or offer words of praise or consolation. Also, this was the first time that I had to audition with a specific piece, one that would be played by hundreds of other violinists across the northeast district. And finally, this audition would be held during the winter, whereas all previous auditions had been held in the early summer or fall. I would have to do a really good job warming up, literally and figuratively. This concern was very slight compared to the others, though.

I couldn't stop shivering the entire bus ride because I was so anxious and cold. The bus was loaded with other students auditioning for the orchestra, band or chorus and featured a mix of seventh- and eighth-graders from the two middle schools in our town. Someone I didn't know chatted amiably with another stranger in the seats diagonally across from where I was sitting, exclaiming how she tried to shower in the morning but her shampoo was frozen inside the bottle. I wanted to warm my hands by putting the under the armpits but didn't want to risk ridicule for impersonating Mary Katherine Gallagher; I already had the glasses and nervous demeanor and instead pulled the arms of my coat up so my hands weren't visible.

The warm-up room for string players was located in the audition host school's cafeteria, and about twelve of us headed that way before wishing good luck to those auditioning for band or chorus. There were already about fifteen string players from other schools who were in various states of warming-up: most were focusing on the challenging runs, others focusing on scales or filling out the adjudication forms that would be used to judge us. We would hand these forms and let the adjudicator rank on a scale of 1(worst)- 10 (best) our technique, artistic interpretation, tone quality, intonation, rhythmic and melodic accuracy.

I tried not to let myself get intimidated by this piece of paper and took Julian Matthias out of his case to start practicing scales. I'd never been able to see the way I was scored and attempted to convince myself that it was a beneficial thing that I finally got to see how I'd be evaluated. A cheat sheet for how to succeed. Sort of.

Periodically an adult would come into the room and ask, "Can I have your attention please, your attention please, can I have six violinists from school 062, six violinists from 062, please, thank you." After waiting in the warm-up room for an hour my school code was finally called, but cellists and violists were requested. By that time I had finished warming up, my nerves and fingers couldn't handle any more playing until the actual audition.

Finally violinists from my school code, 039, were requested, and I followed five violinists from the other middle school to the hallway where we were told to wait in line. The others immediately discussed the audition order, and I ended up going second-to-last, which I didn't mind. I didn't want to go first or last, even though I knew that in the grand scheme of things I was probaby the 58th violinist to audition.


After waiting and trying not to listen to the others' auditions it was my turn to enter the room. It was a history classroom, covered with posters of various maps, historical figures and student projects. The adjudicator was a man, and he sat not at the teacher's desk but one of the student desk-chairs. Wordlessly I handed him my judging form, put my music on the stand and lowered it so it better suited my height.

He asked me for my school code and grade. I was surprised to find that my voice still worked, and I answered his questions. Then he told me to play the D major scale. "Whenever you're ready," he said. Not difficult at all, in fact one of my favorite. I put my fingers in place on Julian Matthias' fingerboard, got my bow into position and thought to myself, "Whenever you're ready." I delayed the moment until it felt completely unavoidable, and played the scale.

It went uneventfully well. That was the easy part. Then the adjudicator stepped up and pointed to where he wanted me to start and stop. The "sicilienne" is slower, more dignified; the "rigadoun" a sprint contest between the left hand fingers and right arm. The sequences repeated themselves frequently; the audition selection chose the trickiest ones. Again I got the "Just start when you're ready" and steeled myself for what I had to do.

I didn't play nearly as well or as fast as the great Itzhak Perlman, but when I was done I knew I played the best I had ever done, that it was the best audition that I had ever given. On the last pizzicato I let the note resonate a little dramatically, ending with my left hand vibrato still in action. Even though it was an audition and not a solo recital performance I stood still for a few beats before pulling Julian Matthias off my shoulder and rearranging my bow. I could feel the blood come back to my face and fingers, and felt cautiously proud. The adjudicator thanked me and asked me to tell the next person to wait 20 seconds before entering.

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I received a score of 62 out of 67 and was put in the first violin, second stand, second chair. The next two years I auditioned for and got into the northeast jr. district orchestra, and the three years after that performed in the senior orchestra. I never scored higher than that, and never got a better orchestra seating. I would count it as one of the top two best audition experiences I've ever head.

Trailer Review: Rango

On second thought I'm not sure if the above video counts as a "trailer" because it's more of a mini behind-the-scenes featurette commercial. Still it fulfills the duties of a trailer in introducing the story, characters and talent.

So many thing about this make me happy. I think this'll look more organized if I make a numbered list:

1. The animation. The quality of the animation-- the detail in textures of skin and hair and lighting in particular-- are so exciting and well conceived. The movement of the characters is so believable and comically done in the way that can only be brought to fruition by animation. Studios are much better at deciding what aspect to make as realistic as possible and what should be exaggerated and elaborated to keep the characters buoyant.
2. The staging/blocking of scenes. Wes Anderson kind of did this with "Fantastic Mr. Fox", where he took George Clooney and Friends to a farm and recorded their voices as they acted out the scenes by rolling around on the grass and scurrying across the field. Gore Verbinski's approach here is a lot more choreographed, not so organic, but it still yields the same results and helps the animators determine the movement of the characters in tandem with the camera.
3. The voice talent. The actors who lend their voices to this production have a lot more input on their characters than most animated films today. The actors actually get to interact with each other and give performances that are more...authetic? Reactive? As opposed to recording each person individually and piecing the sound bits together in post-production. But I'm straying from what I originally intended to write. Johnny Depp as our plucky protagonist! Why isn't this man in more animated films? He's such a great character himself, so animated and genial. And I love Bill Nighy's craggy, curmudgeony voice for the rattlesnake character. And Isla Fisher switching her native Aussie accent for a Southerner's one.

Nickelodeon Studios has obviously put a lot of work into this movie. It not only looks great but seems to have a lot of heart; it doesn't have the feel of a selfish money-grabbing endeavor to suck in the kid krowd and toss a few bones to the hapless adult chaperones. Plus it's an original story, not something based on a popular children's book, and that's really refreshing. I'm really excited to see this.

"I Have A Dream" autotuned

I think I've run the gamut of feelings about this treatment of Martin Luther King Jr.'s famous "I Have A Dream" speech. Having thought over it for a few minutes I've decided how I feel.
This speech is powerful and famous not just for the words that are spoken but for the way that this man delivers them. The original recording of this speech give me chills because of the convinction with which Reverend King speaks those words and the fact that he was assassinated and did not live to see his dream in his lifetime.
Autotune is terrible and terribly entertaining. I find it exasperatingly hackneyed in pop music but in other contexts it's joyfully absurd. Like all fads, autotune will soon pass and be looked back on as the thing that was en vogue in the early 21st century. As blasphemous as it is to take Dr. King's voice and distort it to sound like the latest Top 40 artist, I can't entirely hate it. Yes, I'll make myself clearer: I don't hate the autotuned "I Have A Dream" speech. It's catchy and cleverly edited. The words are all still there and the message is still an important one, still timely and inspirational. It's easy to pass this day off as just another three-day weekend/national holiday celebrated on a Monday, and videos like these keep the history and importance fresh in people's minds.

Wishful thinking, Updates

I am not married to Christian Bale. Sibi Blazic is, though, and I'm pretty sure she'll be accompanying him to the Golden Globe Awards tonight. If I were her I'd want to wear this:

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I haven't done extensive research on this woman's red carpet history but most of what I've seen has fallen in the category of simple, slinky and elegant black dresses. Boring to some, maybe, but it works for her and her figure. The dress above would be a nice little break from all the black. Not that I have anything against black, seeing as half my wardrobe is black clothing. No, but this is the Golden Globe Awards, the slightly knackered, more fun sister of the Oscars-- hy not ditch the black for some shimmery gunmetal?
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Currently reading:

Dead Man Walking by Sister Helen Prejean

Outlaws, Blobs... by various authors

A Study in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Recently viewed movies:

Center Stage (2000) dir. by Nicholas Hynter

the last 20 min. of Hairspray (2007), by Adam Shankman

On glasses, contacts, the way I see the world, part II

Two days ago I wore contact lenses and decided to get a closer look at my face. I don't generally spend a lot of time in front of the mirror, much less inspecting my features. I said before that the prescription on my glasses is slightly stronger than that of my contact lenses, but wearing contacts feels like seeing the world in HD. I could see every hair, every pore and suddenly I was reminded of all those makeup commercials. I suddenly felt compelled to put on a little makeup. (I guess this post isn't as aptly titled as I'd envisioned. Eh.)

Like I said before, my glasses take up much of my face and is probably a big part of how I am recognized: "that short Asian chick with the glasses" and etc. Without them on my face looked bare and felt like it was lacking something. If I put some makeup on I wouldn't feel so naked.

So with my contacts in and face made up I not only (felt like I) looked like a different person but I started to feel like a version of me from a parallel universe. My actions and reactions felt subdued and I didn't feel like my slightly bubbly/bumbling self anymore. In a literal sense the way I saw the world changed, but the way the world saw me was probably markedly different.


Note: I probably didn't need to dedicate a "part II" to these rambling thoughts. Yesterday I felt like I had a lot more to say, but I've lost some steam, lost track of what exactly I was thinking.

On glasses, contacts, the way I see the world, part I

I am a glasses wearer. I've worn glasses since fourth grade and they've become a part of my face and my identity. My glasses are the first thing I attend to in the morning and the last thing attend to before going to sleep. I've literally grown up wearing glasses, and my slightly crooked nose is accustomed the weight of the frames and lenses.

I'm not usually conscious of the fact that I'm wearing glasses, but I never forget that I'm wearing them. Sometimes I feel like I'm watching my life as a movie because out of the corners of my eye I can see slightly beyond the edge of the frame and see the world unaided by corrective lenses. I don't usually pay much attention to this.

On New Year's Day a screw got loose from my frame and I've had to put some string in its place to keep the left lens from popping out. I haven't gotten around to going to get it fixed so I've been walking around looking like a nerd out of a bad 80s comedy, with glasses slightly askew and poorly mended. Yesterday I went out shopping with my sister and decided to wear my contacts instead. Oh, another thing about being a glasses wearer is having to be careful when trying things on, to make sure that the glasses are properly secured on the face or a flat surface to ensure that they don't fall off, break, etc.

First thing I noticed: I have to clean my glasses more often. I think the prescription on my contacts is a little outdated, but everything looked brighter and crisper to me. It was like I was seeing the world the way it was supposed to look, as opposed to the way I looked at the world. And, of course, my face looked different. Glasses magnified my eyes and took up some space on my face; without them my eyes were their normal size (much smaller) and it became apparent just how big my cheeks are. I felt like I looked like a completely different person. I leaned in closer to perform a more thorough investigation of my unobstructed face...

Scar stories : The One on My Left Elbow

It was the summer of 2007. I wanted to go into town. I didn't have a car, so my transportation options were biking, rollerblading or walking there; I chose to rollerblade.

There's a bike path not too far from where I live, so I walked there with my bag slung over one shoulder and skates on the other. I felt great when I finally buckled on my skates and headed north toward the town. I didn't go very fast, but the difference in speed was noticeable enough for me to get a breeze on my face.

After checking out items at the (blissfully air-conditioned) library I made my way back to the bike path and toward the house of my best friend from high school. The center is at a slightly higher elevation than the rest of the town, so it was easier going on the return trip and had gravity working in my favor.

That is, until I went over a twig (a twig!) that was just large enough to get caught between the wheels in my right foot skate and I was pitched forward to the edge of the path.

I got nasty nickel-sized wound on my left elbow but I landed mostly on my right arm and a dull pain radiated from my wrist to my shoulder. Initially I was in shock, but quickly I started to feel annoyed, and this feeling was exacerbated by the three bikers who sped past me, who had to have seen my epic fall, and didn't even bother to ask me if I was okay. Those high and mighty bikers, wheeling along too quickly to care about little old me. Well, no matter, I could take care of myself. I traded my skates for sneakers, walked to my friend's house and dressed the wound there. Over the following days it would become gangrenous, then harden into a tight, itchy scab and ultimately leave an unremarkable scar.

The End.

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I don't know what else to write here

I still enjoy snow and snow days. I like to shovel snow, too. It's a good way to be productive and get a workout at the same time. I feel really good after I come back indoors and peel of the extra layers; I don't feel like I've worked out properly until I'm sweaty and my muscles are a little tired. I'm anticipating feeling a little sore tomorrow, and will be slightly disappointed if I'm not.

I'm glad snow still makes me happy, and not like this:

Crime, punishment, and Disney movies?

(Taken from http://physics.ucsc.edu/~leif/nowlan/execution.html)

The Execution
Alden Nowlan

On the night of the execution
a man at the door
mistook me for the coroner.
"Press," I said.

But he didn't understand. He led me
into the wrong room
where the sheriff greeted me:
"You're late, Padre."

"You're wrong," I told him. "I'm Press."
"Yes, of course, Reverend Press."
We went down a stairway.

"Ah, Mr. Ellis," said the Deputy.
"Press!" I shouted. But he shoved me
through a black curtain. The lights were so bright
I couldn't see the faces
of the men sitting
opposite. But, thank God, I thought
they can see me!

"Look!" I cried. "Look at my face!
Doesn't anybody know me?"

Then a hood covered my head.
"Don't make it harder for us," the hangman whispered.

~

I'm currently reading "Dead Man Walking" and was reminded of this poem. It's one of my favorites and I chose to memorize and recite this for an assignment for my poetry class. I've read some of the author's other work and enjoyed it, too, but this one in particular stood out to me.

I'm not certain how I became fascinated with crime and punishment. It's been gradual but I think one could say it started with my childhood. Like many girls growing up in the 1990's I lived on a diet of macaroni and cheese and Disney movies. Aside from featuring a lot of romance, adventure and happy endings these films feature many imprisoned characters:











-Belle's father, Maurice, Belle, and the Beast (Beauty and the Beast)(image source)
-Cinderella (Cinderella)
-Jasmine, and Genie (Aladdin)
-Quasimodo (The Hunchback of Notre Dame) (image source)
John Smith (Pocahontas) (image source)
King Triton (The Little Mermaid)

Ultimately all these characters are freed or free themselves and they triumph, cue end credits with soaring, sentimental soundtrack. But seriously, I think these movies impacted my sense of justice and equality. I was an impressionable little kid, and I got really into these movies and cried during almost every one; I hated seeing people mistreating other people. As I learned more in school about history and treatment of slaves and prisoners I became more concerned about this matter and the bulk of the non-fiction I read in high school was on mental health and the penal system. I feel like my next sentence should be "And that's how I decided I wanted to be a lawyer/social worker", but that isn't the case; as with poetry this is just another one topic that piques my interests and adds to my broad and shallow body of knowledge. Typical INFP personality.

Children's Hour of Dream

I'm not sure what triggered this memory but I thought about this last night and kept coming back to it today. I played this piece in band in my junior year of high school. The name is really apt, considering the scary, haunting side of children's thoughts at bedtime. I remember my band director describing it as "an aural night -terror; a child waking up in the middle of the night, fearful and crying out to parents, but asleep again once the parents come to his bedroom." Something like that, but more eloquent.

The more I listen to it, the more I enjoy it. It's very intellectual-- I know I'd enjoy it more if I knew more about music theory and Mingus, but I can still appreciate what this showcases. I wish I had a bigger musical vocabulary to be better at describing how I feel, so I'll just let the music speak for itself:




~

Currently reading:
"Dead Man Walking" by Sister Helen Prejean
"Noisy Outlaws, Unfriendly Blobs and Some Other Things That Aren't As Scary, Maybe, Depending On How You Feel About Lost Lands, Stray Cellphones, Creatures from the Sky, Parents Who Disappear in Peru, A Man Named Lars Farf, and One Other Story We Couldn't Quite Finish So Maybe You Could Help Us Out" edited by Ted Thompson with Eli Horowitz

Recently viewed movies:
Matchstick Men (2003)
Shaun of the Dead (2004)

Julian Matthias and I: How he got his name

I've had the same violin since 2000, and together we've been to many rehearsals, audition rooms and concert halls. I named my violin Julian Matthias. I'm not exactly sure how I came to decide to give it a male name, but I can explain the reason for the name(s):

Julian- after my violin teacher's firstborn child, and after the main character from the "Ender's Shadow" book series by Orson Scott Card. This series resonanted with me more strongly than the "Ender's Game" series because of this main character, who's real name is Julian Delphiki but is almost entirely referred to as Bean, which is the name he gives himself. Someday I'll buy myself all four books, but for now I'm content to borrow them from the library and devour them in one day.

Matthias- again, after two people: one literary hero and one real person. Actually, I think the real person was the name-inspiration for the literary hero, who is the protagonist of the first book of the "Redwall" series by Brian Jacques. I read the majority of the books in this series while in middle school. I know that Jacques searched the Bible for names for his characters, which is where he got the name "Asmedeus" for the snake; I think it's safe to guess that "Matthias" is also for Christ's eponymous "thirteenth disciple". Jesus had twelve disciples until one, ah, "went rogue" and ultimately took his own life; after that, Matthias was brought on to bring the number of apostles back to twelve.

I'm posting this as a sort of "prologue" to the experiences that Julian Matthias and I have had over the years. I figure if I can't think of anything else to write about, at least I can put up a post on this subject. I'm distantly worried about coming up with material to last me the remaining 51 weeks...

Movie Haiku & Review: Matchstick Men (2003)

(Image from movieberry.com)

Nicholas Cage cons;
Daughter and protégé, too.
Dangerously fun.

~

I watched this movie this morning on tv, because it happened to be playing on USA Network*. I remember seeing the trailer when it was in theaters and I was vaguely interested in seeing this. Today I watched Matchstick Men for the first time, and I enjoyed it enough to not mind watching it again. During the commercial breaks I'd channel surf and ended up missing small chunks of the movie in addition to whatever the network cut out for cable tv.

The plot isn't anything too complicated: Nicholas Cage is Roy, a not con man but a con ARTIST, who lives a neurotic, lonely life and works with protégé Frank (Sam Rockwell) and working their mark Chuck (Bruce McGill) when his teenage daughter (Alison Lohman) unexpectedly shows up. Cage is fun and not too campy/crazy/lacking irony like he's been for the last few years in the his last few movies **. Lohman is energetic, earnest, and eager to please Cage's character; plays a pretty convincing 14-year-old (she was 24 when the movie came out). Rockwell is solid, balances Cage well, and in retrospect his character is a little unnerving but in a good way. It's not a showy or glamorous film, but it's still solid and has a good balance of of scenes with levity and intensity. It's by Ridley Scott, but doesn't really feel like it's BY RIDLEY SCOTT, DIRECTOR OF "GLADIATOR". I don't mean that in the perjorative sense, it's just that it has a smaller, low-key feel, and the characters are modeled after real people who are imperfect and not always heroic or likeable. It's a serviceable film that doesn't demand too much of the viewer and would be fun to watch over and over-- or until you've had your fill of neurotic Mr. Cage.


*I think that waking up on Saturday mornings to watch TV is so deeply ingrained in me that, even if there's nothing particularly interesting on, I'll still end up watching an hour of whatever's on at that time. Hence, how I ended up watching this movie; I enjoyed it but wouldn't have seen it in any other situation.

** But as terrible as it looks and probably is, I still kind of want to see "Season of the Witch". Ron Perlman is in it (a plus), and Christopher Lee has some sick prosthetic makeup (double plus). I won't shell out the money to see it in theaters, but I'm sure it'll be fun to watch it with a gaggle of friends (...because my friends are geese?) when its comes out on DVD.

The History of a Zucchini

(Image taken from delish.com)

This post is a bit of a cop out, I know. It's an unworthy homage of "The History of a Squash", an article written by the character Beth (as Tracey Tupman) for "The Pickwick Portfolio", from the book Little Women. Recipe with at the end.)

Once upon a time a cook went to market in search of ingredients she would use to make supper. Among the items she carried home with her were two large zucchinis. One she chopped up and put in a savory vegetable stew; the other she sliced into matchstick-sized pieces and set aside. She stirred freshly-creamed butter with sugar, then added one fresh chicken egg and gradually added flour and oats to the mixture. In went the sliced zucchini and a handful of nuts. The mixture was then carefully spooned onto a baking pan and went into the oven until the heavenly scent wafted into the kitchen and the entire household. That night the stew and cookies were enjoyed by the household for which the cook worked. No one guessed that the same ingredient was used in both recipes.

* * * * *
Kitchen Sink cookies (adapted from the recipe for Quaker Oats' "Vanishing Oatmeal Raisin Cookies" and Momofuku's Compost Cookies.)

INGREDIENTS:
1 1/2 sticks of butter
2/3 cup of brown sugar (light or dark brown, doesn't matter too much)
1/3 cup of granulated (white) sugar
2 large eggs

1 1/2 cups of flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon

1 teaspoon vanilla extract (optional)
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg (optional)
2-3 cups of oats
Any combination of the following ingredients that add up to 2 1/2 cups:
dried cranberries, raisins, chocolate chips, pecans, almonds, walnuts, shredded zucchini, shredded carrot, puréed peas, puréed sweet potatoes, crushed pretzels, crushed potato chips.

DIRECTIONS1. Sift second group of ingredients together.
2. Combine all ingredients in first group, adding the egg after butter and sugars have combined.
3. Gradually mix the sifted ingredients into butter-sugar-egg mixture.
4. Add optional ingredients (optional).
5. Put dry ingredients from third group into a plastic bag, add a tablespoon of flour and shake.
6. Gradually mix remaining ingredients into the dough.
7. Drop rounded tablespoons of the dough onto cookie sheets lined with parchement paper, put in oven for about 12 minutes, or until cookies are golden brown.

~
I play it sort of fast-and-loose when it comes to cooking and baking. The proportion and measurement of ingredients is much more important when it comes to baking because mistakes can't be as easily remedied. Some times I'm very careful about getting the exact amounts and following instructions to a T, but most of the time I get overzealous and tweak the recipe to my whims. Though my creations don't always turn out the way they were intended, they're usually all enjoyable. Or, at the very least, edible. I call these "kitchen sink" cookies because I like to put "everything but the kitchen sink" into the dough. It's a good way to sneak a small serving of vegetables into a dessert.

Book review: "Little Women" by Louisa May Alcott

It's been ten years since I first read this book cover-to-cover; between then and now I've watched the 1994 film adaptation countless times and read "Little Women and Werewolves." I felt like a bit of a fraud before this second reading because I counted it as one of my all-time favorite books but only read it once. On the other hand, that's a credit to how much the story resonated with me.

Ten years ago this was the longest text I ever read on my own-- that was before the last four Harry Potter volumes were published. It was also the first book I ever read that didn't have a plot in the sense of the traditional children's lit. I was reading, and I was a little younger than the youngest of the main characters as she's presented at the beginning of the book. It's curious to read it over and find out that the book covers the same amount of time as the period between my first reading and last reading, and now I am the age of the oldest character at the end of the book.

I've seen the film version of this story so many times that even now when I think of the story of "Little Women" I refer to the events as they transpire in the film rather than the text. The 1994 adaptation is among my favorite films (I've never seen the one with Katharine Hepburn as Jo) and I'm happy to see how faithful it was to Louisa May Alcott's original story-- the script even takes lines right out of the book. Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy are still very familiar to me, and knowing what happens to them in the end doesn't diminish what transpires between the first and last page. I now realize how much foreshadowing Alcott employs, hinting at significant events to come. Also, now that I know more about the author, it's easy to see how much of herself she puts into Jo, the writer, and all the little heartbreaks she sends Jo's way: Losing her older sister, Meg, to a husband; anticipating and turning down a proposal from her best friend, Laurie; losing Beth, her closest sister and companion; having her youngest sister Amy burn one of her manuscripts and eventually marry Laurie; and finally a unconventional romance with a German professor 20 years her senior.

Then and now I empathize most with Jo, and I've always remembered this passage from the book:

"November is the most disagreeable month in the whole year," said Margaret, standing at the window one dull afternoon, looking out at the frost-bitten garden.
"That's the reason I was born in it," observed Jo pensively, quite unconscious of the blot on her nose.

I might be the only person who finds this little passage memorable, but it perfectly encapsulates the way I remember Jo and relate to her.

I don't think it's ever too late to read this book for the first time; it's a classic, after all, and definitely still holds up as a work by a woman for women of all ages. Well, anyone really, regardless of gender/gender identification. More accurate to say that women of all ages can appreciate what Louisa May Alcott created. As for "Little Women and Werewolves"... I think that's a topic for another post on another day.

In which I see my first Jackson Pollock.

Number 10, that is. It was displayed flat, behind a glass case; I got as close as I could without having my nose touch the case, leaving breath-marks in the shape of cytokinesis. I Googled the painting but it can't compare to seeing it in person, regardless of feelings toward the artist or abstract paintings.

In another exhibit in this art museum I caught three painting-gazers unintentionally recreating this scene from "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" (at 0:57):
Just picture three sixty-year-olds, two women and one man, instead of the hookey-playing teenage boy, his best friend and his girlfriend. They were looking at this (can't find a small picture to put here). I've yet to see a Seurat in person, but I did see some Monet and have a bit of a Cameron Frye moment with a Monet landscape.

Don't get me wrong, I love going to museums and even like to visit them by myself sometimes; I like to do so in order to wander from exhibit to exhibit at my own pace and linger without worrying that I've lost my companion/party. But what I enjoy almost as much as the artwork is people-watching at these places. I jotted down notes on some of the people who caught my eye:

- a father and daughter, both wearing blue argyle sweaters and blue jeans of the same hue. I know that siblings and friends tend to dress similarly, but I've never seen a parent and child of opposite genders dress as identically as this pair.

- a college-aged couple, who in any other circumstance would be unremarkable: the She wore a long sweater, black leggings, cognac-colored boots and a cloth headband that matched her dark ponytailed-hair; the He wearing a long-sleeved crew neck shirt with faded blue jeans and worn sneakers. Most of the couples were older people, empty-nest aged men and women who thoughtfully considered each piece before moving on. This pair ambled into a small exhibit and ambled out a minute later, clearly unimpressed and unmoved by the ancient artifacts.

- a man who looked to be about sixty-five years old; very tall, perhaps 6'6"; large Liam Neeson-esque nose and striking, dignified profile; wore a brown leather jacket and black pants and shoes. He walked like an elephant, but not as slowly and a bit more purposefully; he didn't bend with age, and folded his hands behind his back, carrying his hat in his right hand.

I also like to listen in on the conversations had by people in the exhibit I'm in-- it's not really eavesdropping if the interlocutors aren't trying to be discrete, is it? But in any case not many of them were interesting or worth noting. I did hear one woman say disgustedly, " I only like seeing sculptures of human figures, not...dogs, or...turtles."

Of dogs and food

I was walking down the bike path yesterday to go into town. I passed by a golden retriever and his owner. I know it was a male because the man said "C'mon boy" as the dog paused to watch me walk by. The dog gazed at me plaintiffly, hungrily, and I became conscious of the way I smell. I didn't put deodorant on as I got dressed, and I had just eaten macaroni and cheese for lunch; I probably reeked of butter and Kraft "cheese" (it was more orange than yellow and had a abandoned-blob-of-Play-Doh consistency).

I felt like I got a glimpse of my imaginary/parallel future, wherein I live in a tiny apartment by myself and, following a bout of passion for cooking new and pungent dish, I get thoroughly sniffed by the dogs that pass by, who cannot help themselves to the powerful olfactory feast I eek out my every pore.

Trailer Review: Hanna

I'm excited.

Even if I found the plot description first I'm sure I'd still be excited to see this movie. It looks like it'll be Saoirse Ronan vs. Cate Blanchett, which is enough to intrigue me, never mind the teenage girl assassin vs. cunning female government agent. Ronan always has such an earnestness that's so watchable and likeable. And Blanchett is so smart, so commanding and convincing in every role, almost always with that secret Cheshire-cat smile, like she knows more than she's letting on.

Most of all it's great that this film exists, that the focus is on two strong female characters who literally and figuratively kick-butt, and there may be a sort of sci-fi element to it. Even though Eric Bana also gets top-line billing and the catalyst to all the action, it seems like most of the action will be between these two women.

Oh, and I guess I have a soft spot for a movie partially set in the tundra, where everything is bleak and cold and reminiscent of Hoth.

Rule number one

Don't talk about Fight Club.

No, but seriously, I wanted to elaborate on the first rule I'm imposing on myself regarding this blog. I want to make myself write daily, regardless how how I feel or what little I have to say. I want to be able to say that I posted something every day and be able to look back on what I've done (and hopefully see some progress). But I included the part about not having internet access because I hope to go to Nicaragua again.

I went there last summer for a week-long mission with my church. I hope to go again this year but I'm not sure if it'll work out. In any case, if I do end up going I won't even have time to get on the computer, never mind using the internet to write a little blog post. For now, that's the only exception I'm giving myself-- the only time I'll allow myself to go without putting my little inane thoughts on this site.

On a slightly related note, I wonder what kind of material I'll come up with every day to put here...

Day 1: It begins.

I'm really going to do this. Really.

My New Year's Resolution for all to see: blog every day, right here. I won't promise anything inspiring, original or even interesting. This is a challenge, an experiment, that I willingly put myself up to for this year, 2011. In the words of Yoda, "Try not. Do or do not, there is no 'try'."

Ground rules for myself:
1. Write every day this year, unless I am away and have no Internet access.
2. Write at least three sentences per entry.
3. Post one movie and book review a month.
4. Once posted, I cannot, WILL not, go back and edit a post for spelling, grammar, content, etc.

* * *

Currently reading:
Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott
The Battle of the Labyrinth (Percy Jackson and the Olympians Series vol. 4) by Rick Riordan

Recently viewed films:
Black Swan (2010), directed by Darren Aronofsky
The Back to the Future trilogy, dir. by Robert Zemeckis
The Town (2010), dir. by Ben Affleck