Halfway there!

Well looky-here, I'm halfway through the year!  I think I've done a good job in delivering quantity over quality, and I'm slightly surprised that I've persevered and lasted this long.  I wouldn't say that writing daily has become a habit or a compulsion, as some days I really have to force myself to think and to write.  But some days I do look forward to writing about something that happened to me or something that's been marinating in my brain. 

Improvements/adjustments for the second half of this year:
1) Rely less on random YouTube videos or movies for inspiration/filler for days when I'm uninspired to write
2) Use more GIFs
3) Proofread my posts more than once before publishing

The ever-growing booklist...

image source

My booklist is growing every day, with each "Summer Reading List" featured in the many websites I check on my daily cycle of sites (my "vitals").  I'm very excited by each new book I add to my list, but it's unrealistic that I'll actually get around to reading all of these this summer (before Labor Day), or this year, or in my lifetime.

Without further ado, the list (in the order I plan to read them):
1. Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov (currently reading)
2. The Illustrated A Brief History of Time/The Universe in a Nutshell by Stephen Hawking
3. The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood
4. Black Boy by Richard Wright
5. Marched by Ally Condie
6. Delusions of Gender by Cordelia Fine
7. The Curfew by Jesse Bell
8. Nom de Plume: A (Secret) History of Pseudonyms by Carmela Ciuraru

I'm certain of the order of the first four books, but that of the last four is subject to change.  There are thirteen other books in my regular booklist, but these are the ones I've "curated" for this summer.  We'll see how this goes; as far as promises/commitments to myself I've been pretty good, actually.

Acabo de pensar de esto la semana pasada

image source

Estaba hablando con una amiga quien me dijó de cómo pidió su novio una hamburgesa: queso extra, sin lechuga, sin tomate, con salsa de tomate.  A él le gusta el tomate pero no lo comerá si lo mezcla con otra comida, pero le gusta el sabor de la salsa de tomate.  Este me confunde; me gusta ambos tipos de tomate.  Algo que me encanta sobre el verano es la variedad de tomates que puedo comprar, en varias tamaños, colores y sabores.  Ahorita mi especie favorito es el tomate bistec: es enorme y sabroso.

Estaba leyendo este artículo sobre el tomate, y cómo se cultivan y cosechan tomates hoy en dia para mantener su color, su aparencia de sabor y ya no tiene ningun sabor.  Es una lástima, es este problema.  En otras estaciones encuentro este problema, de comprar la "manzana de amor" y comerlo y me aburre la lengua.  Pues, es probable que la rebanada de tomate que casi era comido del novio de mi amiga tuviera ningún sabor, y si lo tuviera, ahogara del sabor del salsa de tomate.  Quizás este explique por qúe tanta gente come el tomate en este forma, en la forma líquida: porque es más interesante que la tomate fresca...y es más barato.

Hugh Jackman in the morning

Me pregunta porqúe? Vale, explicaciones:
1) El sol brilló cuando me levanté este mañana, y esto es lo que sentaba
2) Tocaré este obra de teatro musical en unos semanas y he escuchándo la musica
3) ­Porque no? Busco cualquier razon para ver y escuchar este actor cantando y bailando.

Es lo que es

Nota: No escribí todo primero en inglés y luego lo traduce inmediatamente por lenguajes en Google.  Escribí totalmente en español y usé el diccionario para buscar las palabras que no pudiera recordar.  No es perfecto, no escribo como es mi lengua nativa; pues, es lo que es.

No me sentaba bien cuando me levanté este mañana.  Me sentaba un poco enferma: tuve un calentura pequeña, poco tos y tuve sinusitis un poco.  Nada seria pero me enojaba mucho.

Hasta que usé mi Neti Pot! Ay, hace mucho tiempo que lo usé.  De vez en cuando lo utilizo para irrigar las pasajes de la nariz-- cuando las alergias me afectan.  Lo compré el Neti Pot dos años pasados; aquel verano era casi insoportable, y la nariz siempre era rosado porque siempre tenía que sonarla. Una amiga sugiera que probar usando esta cosa.  Aunque lo he usado muchas veces, cada vez me hace un poco nerviosa.

Lo que pasa es que mezcle un poco sal y sodioclorido en agua templado en el Neti Pott y echarlo en una ventana de la nariz.  El líquido sale por la otra ventana de la nariz, y es importante respirar por la boca cuando hacer esto.  Me siente un poco extraño, porque es como ahogando.  Tipicamente nadie quiere que agua viene la nariz, pero los polvos en el agua sirven para limpiar todo interior sin hacer daño a los tejidos.  Cuando termine y no hay mas agua, hago lo igual en el otro lado.  Parece curioso y siente curioso pero sirve bien.  No mas me duele los senos y respiro mejor.  Despues hay un poco olor de algo quemado, pero este sensación sale hasta unos minutos.  No me gusta decir que "me encanta ___" si es una cosa material, porque me siente que se usan este frase con frecuencia y no tiene tanta importancia; pero sin dudo me encanta el Neti Pot y no quiero vivir sin esto.  Puedo sobrevivir, pero no querio y no es un hábito precio-- me ayuda, y no hace daño como otros polvos blancos...

Speechless with joy

I've mentioned before how I'd like to buy and learn to play a trombone, right?  Because it's a brass instrument and looks fun to play.  Well now I REALLY want a trombone, and I'm determined to get one by the end of this summer; yes, I'm adding it to my to-do list for the summer.

Why, you ask?  I'll show you why:

Me equivoqué

In my post from a couple of days ago I wrote something along the lines of "one cannot like one's elbow"; I meant to say "lick".  It is anatomically impossible to lick one's elbow, although I'd like to see Gene Simmons try.  Actually, scratch that last part.  Gene Simmons' tongue terrifies me slightly.  Anyway, point being, I wrote what I didn't intend, hence me equivoqué=  I was wrong, I made a mistake.

BUT-- I have to admit that I don't really like my elbows.  Sure, they're useful and necessary joints and I truly don't know what I would do without them.  I can flex my biceps (not very impressively) and extend my arm using my tricep muscles.  Hooray.  But my elbows always seem to be in the way, especially when I'm in front of my sink in the bathroom at home.  I'm forever knocking things down with my elbows or having water drip down them, thus wetting the entire sink area.  I'm not a very big person but I'm a klutz, so I never seem to have enough space to function properly without getting some part of my body in the way of myself.  Elbows and hips seem to get the lion's share of bumping into things.

And elbows are so weird!  With arm extended there's that unseemly, shrively skin that accumulates there, also sometimes known as a weenus?/winys? (spelling?).  And then when arm is flexed the elbow is all bone, just those two protrusions where (if my memory is correct) the radius and humerus meet, where a faint pulse may be palpated.  And if popping an arm back into its shoulder socket isn't distrubing enough, popping an elbow back into place is...well, see for yourself and put in your own adjectives:

If today were a song...

... it'd be this one



I have no idea what she's saying, and I'm not even sure what language it is.  It's the tone, the mood of the song that really do it for me.  Where I live it's been cloudy all day, ranging from drizzly to heavy-- not a miserable day, but one that encourages thoughful reflection in the dry indoors.

I take it all back, I do not hate summer

I had a kiwi for dessert today and ohmygoodnessitwasdelicious.  I didn't feel like eating it with the peel this time around, and as I was peeling it I had its green juice dribble down from my wrist to my elbow.  Oh how I was tempted to like it! But, as we all know, it is impossible to like your own elbow.  Okay, maybe unless you're Gene Simmons.  Mmh, but it took more time to peel than to eat; I must've finished it in three bites. For most of this year a great bulk of my fruit consumption was in the form of canned peaches-- which I love-- and now finally, FINALLY there's an abundance of fresh fruit to be had.  And farmer's markets, with fresh local produce; ah, it'll be nice to eat a tomato that actually tastes like one rather than just simply looking the part and offering very little excitement for my taste buds.

Yesterday I made pizza dough (I've been really into baking lately) and had to make the very difficult decision of figuring out what to do with it.  Make pizza? Or focaccia, as I did last week? Or prepare it to stuff, roll and bake tomorrow morning as sticky buns? Oh, the difficult decisions that I am faced with in the summertime...

Julian Matthias and I: Worst audition ever

My worst audition ever took place either at the very end of August or the very beginning of September.  The air was still warm and sunny but there was a palpable coolness the atmosphere that couldn't be completely attributed to cooler breezes.  The new school year was approaching with great rapidity, and my lack of practising violin over the summer was inescapable. 

I quickly ran out of tomorrows and found myself rushing to pack Julian Matthias up and stuff my music into my bag to leave for my audition.  I got there 20 minutes so that I had enough time to warm up and cycle through the four stages of grief about three times before I would get called in to be audited, to be judged.  I read an article recently about how, before a workout or any kind of athletic activity, it's not good to spend too much time getting warmed up because it can make one tired and unnecessarily worn out.  I think this can be applied to the performing arts as well, where it's important to get all the muscles stretched and ready for showtime but there is such thing as overdoing it, over-warming up.  With five minutes to go I stopped and went to wait outside.

A fellow female violinist came out of the room a few minutes later.  She wore her hair in a high ponytail tied with a ribbon, a clean white blouse tucked into a skirt that hit right above her knees, and dress shoes.  She gave me a sympathetic smile before rushing to put away her instrument, leaving me more nervous and giving me one more item to my "shoulda/woulda/coulda" list of things to do before the audition.  A few weeks earlier I had talked to a friend about my audition and she advised me to look nice and wear a skirt.  "He (the conductor of the orchestra for which I was auditioning) likes girls who dress like girls", she had said.  I don't remember what I wore to the audition and back then I gave much less thought to the way I dressed and did my hair than I do now.

As with most auditions, this one was a blur.  I remember being told to start when ready; I remember playing and not executing difficult passage well; I remember stopping and already knowing that I had done terribly.  The adjudicators were kind about it though.  Or rather, they didn't openly express their disgust at having spent that time listening to me struggle.  One of them noticed that I had written in that I also played the clarinet.  I said yes, yes I do play the clarinet as well.  There might've been an exchange of glances between the two.  They thanked me and let me leave.

Ach! Right after I left I realized that the man who asked about clarinet playing was a clarinetist himself! And I knew his son, an oboe player, and had sat next to his son many times in the high school band!  I should've made some witty comment about "us clarinet players, amiright?"  But I didn't.  And it wouldn't have made a difference.

To this day that is my worst audition ever, and I work to make sure it stays that way.

Possibly the first live show I ever saw



image source

I remember my first and only theatre-in-the-round performance. It was about Harriet Tubman and the Underground Railroad. I think it was 2nd grade. It was an exciting production. For the scenes of stealing away into the night, the whole theatre was darkened to reveal hundreds of tiny lights all around the ceiling, with certain stars burning more brightly to indicate the Drinking Gourd constellation. Because it was a circular stage, with audience members seated all around, the actors were constantly moving around so that no one would be stuck seeing an actor's back for an extended period.  I know this because I took an intro. to theater class; at the time it all flowed very organically, very naturally.  There's a lot of tension within the whole plot of slaves on the run and catcher on their trail, and the constant motion of the actors added even more tension to the scenes.  Hmm, I try to think back and try to pick up more details, but that's all I remember: the perpetually moving actors, the dark theater with the twinkling lights, the feeling of wonder at the real-life story and of the way it was told in that live, performing arts setting.

Xena

image source

I was eight or nine when I regularly watched Xena: Warrior Princess on TV.  This was, of course, back when Saturday meant watching TV all day long, even if it was nice out and I wasn't particularly interested in anything that was on air.  That's probably how I started watching this show in the first place; I watched what was then called kidsWB! from whenever I woke up until about noon or 1pm, which was when they stopped running cartoons and kids shows.  Then I switched to what was then UPN to watch this show.

And I can't believe that I watched this when I was eight or nine! This show had some hard PG-13 stuff going on-- no bad language but a lot of violence and adult situations.  And I can't believe that my dad (Happy Father's day!) was okay with the fact that I watched this show. Three theories:
1) He didn't realize what kind of show I was watching and assumed it was a very battle-oriented cartoon
2) He realized what kind of show it was but didn't care that it had a lot of, uh...action
3) He realized what kind of show it was but thought that it was okay for me to see someone involved in that much action because it was done by a princess

I haven't seen an entire episode since I was a kid, but I remember how I felt and reacted to certain scenes; I'm sure I'd find them much less scary and much more campy in nature, just as present-day me can handle the scene in Star Wars: Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back where Luke gets his hand cut off.  If I have time and remember to do so I'd like to go back and see a few of those special episodes.

Stuff

Things I collect:
- fortune cookie papers
- sand
- instruments
- annoying habits
- foreign aphorisms
- words
- dream fragments
- postcards
- ticket stubs
- nail polish

Most of the things I collect are stuff: tangible, material objects. They have no inherent value other than what I impart onto them, with the exception of instruments.  I like collecting things; I'm a very disorganized person, careless, forgetful, a klutz.  Sometimes when I see commercials for one of those shows on hoarding I shudder and hope to God that I don't end up like that, especially since I harbor some of the same characteristics that hoarders exhibit.

It's easy to poke holes at the materialistic nature of the American culture, how as Americans we place so much value on things on stuff.  In the end, where does it all end up?  In a dump site, or dissolved into the earth, or maybe into a museum.  Most religions claim that we take nothing with us to the afterlife.  But stuff can make life better, easier, more comfortable.  No, buying more stuff won't make me happy, happiness can't be bought outright, but it can sometimes make acquisition of happiness a less complicated process.

Trailer review: Awake

This is not a typical trailer review in that this is for a TV series rather than a film.  Still, I really wanted to  document my reactions to it because  the trailer got me excited for what it presented :
- a detective procedural drama

- a story about a man living in parallel universes, tackled in a realistic way-- as a psychological, PTSD-type disorder-- rather than taking a science fiction slant. 

- a dark-haired Lucius Malfoy Jason Isaacs as the protagonist

- B.D. Wong playing another shrink in another NBC drama (this guy is too cool for school, did you know he once had a one-man show on Broadway?)

- an exploration of grief, choosing when and how to let go after the loss of a loved one

- another perspective on dreams vs. reality, of how to tell when you're awake and when you're not.  I bet this series was probably already in production before "Inception" came out, so the movie probably didn't have any impact on the creation of "Awake".  I think that in the wake (pun intended) of that film, this TV show could do well by exploring this field even further.  I've never seen Sliding Doors but I imagine that, since that movie deals with parallel universes/alternate realities, this show will draw something from that as well.  I'm most interested in the ways that the two worlds overlap and maybe influence each other, perhaps helping Isaacs character gather information from one side to help solve a case on the other.  (Slightly related digression: Recently I went to go pay for something in cash but realized that I only had one dollar when I thought I had ten ones; that night I dreamt that I looked in my wallet and found a Hamilton staring back at me.)

This series reminds me of another NBC detective procedural, called Life. I really liked it, but it got axed after two seasons.  I'll have to write another post on why I liked it so much.

Bun in the oven?

That phrase absolutely tickles me, to say that a woman has a "bun in the oven" if she's pregnant.  It leads to some funny imagery, as recounted by the woman at the 1:16 mark:


Reminds me of another food-pregnancy analogy made by one of my heroines, the incomparable Carrie Fisher:
Someone's summered in my stomach
Somene's fallen through my legs,
To make an infant omelet,
Simply scramble sperm and eggs
- from her book "Wishful Drinking"

What is it about babies and edibility?  More than once I've found myself thinking "That baby is so cute that I want to eat it!"  Wh do I feel that way? I don't even eat meat, or literally wish to consume infants and yet this phrasee is the most apt one for the way I sometimes feel.  And cannabalism is generallly frowned upon, and maltreatment of babies-- born and unborn (fetus'? fetuses? fetii?)-- is similarly discouraged, to say the least.

Personal vs. public space

While in the city and waiting for a friend to show up, a group of tourists approached me and asked me for directions to a popular landmark and my recommendation for somewhere to eat.  I directed them to the path they were looking for and offered a nearby tourist hotspot as a surefire place to find something for everyone.  "A tourist place, huh? What do you mean by that?" one of the men said jokingly while he gave a firm pat to the upper part of my right arm.  Then he and his companions thanked me and went off in the direction I had pointed.  I felt pleased with myself that I was helpful, useful.

Immediately after I starting thinking about that body contact the man had made.  It was a friendly gesture, spoken concurrent with light-hearted words of mock-offense.  I didn't mind that he had touched my shoulder; it seemed to come naturally to him to make that kind of action toward me, a stranger.  The man didn't seem to have any accent--nothing to attribute his friendliness to the "Southern gentleman" character. I'm not a touchy-touchy person, not with complete strangers.  But it doesn't bother me much to, say, ride a crowded bus or train car where I have no choice but to bump up against people I don't know (I usually end up staring at people's chests and armpits).

A matter of perspective

...get it? I'm a unicorn.

Of course I wasn't aware of this at the time the picture was taken.  My friends and I were running around, jumping off these random stone blocks when one of my friends told me to stop, turn my head slightly and look down.  She took two shots (the first one came out blurry) before letting me get off and see what was soo fuunnnnny.

The moral of this story: it's all how you look at it. (Or something like that).

Quick reaction to "X-Men: First Class"



image source

 I saw X-Men: First Class more than a week ago. Overall I liked this movie.  I wouldn't mind seeing it in theaters again but I'm not terribly passionate about this film.  Some lingering thoughts:

Raiders anniversary

image source

Today marks the 30th anniversary of the release of Raiders of the Lost Ark (12 June 1981).  This is my favorite film in the trilogy series, which is why I think it is the best.  So many classic scenes and characters: Harrison Ford as Dr. Indiana Freaking Jones! Melting Nazis! Asps! (Very dangerous--you go first).

Digression: I think somewhere in the black hole that is my family's VHS collection lies this film.  I'm not sure why I don't have a DVD of it even though I count it as one of my all-time favorite films.  Five or six summers ago I went through a George Lucas/Harrison Ford binge by watching the (original) Star Wars trilogy and the (originally a trilogy) Indiana Jones movies at least twice.  I was struck by how Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl borrowed from Raiders scenes.  When it comes to the female lead:
1) Both are damsels in distress, but not so completely and utterly useless.  Marion Ravenwood wields a mighty frying pan, and Elizabeth Swann at least attempts to get that sword off its mounting when the pirates are pursuing her in her mansion.
2) Both are forced by their respective captors to wear dresses...  Marion a white (wedding?) dress, Elizabeth a dark ruby-black dress ("it matches your heart!" she spatters.)
3) ...then allowed to eat with their respective captors...
4) ...then conceal a dinner knife and distract their captors by acting against their true feelings... Marion pretends to get drunk (cuz, you know, them women dunno how to hold their liquor); Elizabeth acts the lady
5) ...then seize what seems like the opportune moment to take the knife and threaten the man with it, but it doesn't help in the end.
6) Both their fathers had an big influence in shaping the future and character of their love interests/the male lead and protagonist.

I didn't know this until I came across this article, but Dr. Jones' seems to be based at least in part by a real life archaeologist.  Aside from Sherlock Holmes, who was loosely based on the real Dr. Joseph Bell,  I cannot readily come up with a hero who is equal parts brain and brawn, scholar and adventurer.  (I'm sure there are other fictional men and women out there but my brain is just too much in a fog and I feel like shoehorning a reference to the illustrious detective).  Both even have iconic hats!  Although that has more to do with actor Basil Rathbone than the original book description.

I know I'm on thin ice if I even suggest that I enjoyed Kingdom of the Crystal Skull; but I think that, even after that, adventure's name is "Indiana Jones".  And yes, if when the fifth film comes out, which was once rumoured to be set in/around the Bermuda Triangle, you can bet your bullwhip that I'll go see it in theaters and still keep Raiders on my favorites list.

Even fictional characters need to eat

image source

One thing that really struck me about The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was how author Stieg Larsson did a good job feeding his characters.  It might just be me, since I have the constitution and appetite of a hobbit, but it seemed like the two main characters ate a lot of sandwiches.  They smoked a fair amount of cigarettes too, but they also relieved stress by breaking bread, alone or with each other.  I really appreciate it when an author remembers that just because it's a thriller and the plot is full of suspense doesn't mean that the character's aren't superhuman and still have the same basic human drive of needing food (and water, and sex).

This got me to thinking about other books in which the author makes a point in feeding the characters well:

Things that drive me batty, part III

Typos/misspelled words

MORONS!
If I were a Moran I'd be insulted.  "Moran" automatically makes me think of Mr. Sebastian Moran, featured in The Adventure of the Empty House. According to Sherlock Holmes Moran is the second-most dangerous man in England (Prof. Moriarty is/was the most dangerous).

I'm no Scripps kid but I was always pretty good at spelling.  I was a bookworm-- still love to read but can't do so as voraciously as in the past. I value it (good spelling and grammar), and must admit that it irks me to see words misspelled or misused, e.g. "hear" instead of "here"; "there" instead of "their" or "they're", etc.  It's not completely fair of me, though, because American English is fraught with sooo many inconsistencies; there are just as many loopholes as rules when it comes to how and why a word is spelled the way it is.  Even the word "spelled/misspelled" can also be written "spelt/misspelt".  Why?  Well, why not?

(I just contradicted myself there, didn't I? Hmm.  Well, there's nothing concrete, no real rhyme or reason as to why certain things drive me batty, but it is what it is.)

Casi insoportable

I know, I know, the weather's your typical safe, boring conversation topic, but here in New England the weather's always changing, always a genuine topic of interest.  Last night the weathermen were threatening that we'd hit up to 100 degrees Fahrenheit up here; thankfully it's only in the mid 90s (<-- HA!  After an almost record-breaking amount of snow and unusually long winter it's amusing to think that I actually typed that sentence).  The heat and humidity are casi insoportable-- almost unbearable.  I say almost because I don't mean to employ the 'hyperbole by youth' by bemoaning the current weather conditions as "like, the worst thing everrrrrrrr, amiright?"; I'm sure somewhere it's got to be worse out.  Somewhere out there.

Still, I have to admit that I really dig thunderstorms; they can be really spiritual.  I don't mean this in the obvious, cleansing sense of 'washing away sins' or anything like that, but just the fact that weather can be so powerful and electric, and the sense that this experience is being shared with you  by countless other people.  As humankind we've tamed rivers by building dams, harnessed wind and solar power; we've been able to clone animals and genetically alter plants to be sweeter and aesthetically pleasing-- and yet we can't control the weather.

Another commercial

I know I just did one of these a few days ago but I just found that this was posted, and so I must comment without delay:

This one is half as long as the other commercials, but it is equally effective, affecting and funny.

1) I'm glad that Mr. Krasinski made sure that it was safe for animals.  I'm not vegetarian out of sympathy for animals but that doesn't mean I can't be indignant and offended when they're decorated inhumanly.
2) I still agree: it was totally worth it.
3) I love the squelchy sound of Mr. Baldwin's shoes on that floor.  I could listen to that for...well, not hours, but for a while.
4) Sadly, I cannot readily identify Mr. Krasinski's ringtone in this commericial.

Dropping some eaves

I took a particularly long bus trip recently, and in the row diagonally across from mine two strangers engaged in a very candid conversation.  I have no idea how their conversation started-- probably sometime during the wait in line for the delayed bus-- but the bulk of it was had on the bus.  One was a mother of two in her 50s, the other a 20-year-old man.  They were the only ones talking in the bus, so it wasn't difficult to hear what they said.

And what they had to say!  I basically learned both of their life stories, a SparkNotes version, if you will.  The mother was visiting one of her sons, who was determined to see three shows with her that weekend.  I didn't catch her career, but her work paid for her to have an iPad (gorgeous, wonderful piece of equipment, that), which she brought with her for the trip.  In addition to that also owned an iPhone, a Kindle and a laptop.  She had some kind of connection with someone who worked in the theatre industry, which was fortuitous for the young man sitting next to her.  He had written a musical adaptation of a famous children's book and was in the midst of casting actors and entering the production for a theatre festival.  They exchanged personal information and while on the bus (thank you, technology) they Friended each other on Facebook so that they could continue communication after the bus ride was over.  Of all places...it really is a marvel, the randomness of life and the people you meet, whether purposefully or unintentionally, whether you've know them for 10 years or 10 minutes.

Commercial analysis: Lovestruck by Vera Wang

1. Love that dress!  What a gorgeous color and ravishing shape!

2.  But I wonder it's like to walk in it, if that's even possible.  Luck for Leighton Meester, actress from my former guilty pleasure TV series Gossip Girl,  all she has to do in this commercial is stand in one place, and occasionally show her impatience by looking and leaning over the balcony railing.

3.  It annoys me slightly that her movement is restricted by her dress, so that she is unable to rush to her beau the way he rushes up to her.  It's very damsel-in-distress.  I get that it's "romantic" in that He goes through all this trouble to get to Her, and that She justcantwait for him to get there.  As cheesy as it is, I prefer the whole "two people running in slow motion to each other from opposite sides of a field" to this admittedly cheeky, coyly waiting maiden and her valiant suitor.

4.  I love peonies!  How thoughtful of Him to get Her that bouquet!

5.  But-- she throws them down and away!  They were so pretty!  Sure, He's the real object of beauty here, but I would've held onto those flowers.

6.  Interesting, that the first thing She does after tossing the flowers (shame on you!) is to hug him.  I was expecting a kiss, and it's notable (at least to me) that the commercial never shows them kissing, although it can sort of be implied that they do, by the proximity of their faces at the end.

7. I wish my hair could naturally have that texture.  I bet it took a lot of choreography to get her hair to that effortlessly wavy and tousled condition.  I have neither the time nor patience to work my own locks into submission.  Although this is a commercial for perfume, I think it could just as easily be one for a hair product.  All it needs is a better close-up of Her hands going through His hair.

Mellow yellow

I think my skin is naturally a bit dark, as far as Koreans go.  My skin does tan but I never intentionally tan, as I'm happy with the color of my skin as it is.  I wear sunblock but I'm not very attentive with it; if I get tan lines I get tan lines, and I've only ever gotten sunburn twice in my life.

I have very yellow skin.  Sometimes I feel that I don't tan so much as I get a deeper brown-yellow tone.  Generally I don't mind my yellowness in the literal sense.  I like that I have a warm skin tone.  I don't like pastels (spring tones) and look terribly jaundice and sickly when I wear any soft, creamy color.  I only started to notice this in high school; funny that it was then that I began to be more attentive to color in the literal and figurative sense.

Batman and beyond

This, ladies and gentlemen, is how I learned the word “apathy”.

Aah, Saturday morning cartoons on kidsWB...I thought this was the coolest title sequence evv-arr when this show first came out.  It’s a good representation of the moody, futuristic tone of the series.  This series is responsible for my fascination with Batman—I didn’t grow up reading comic books or anything like that; Batman has always struck me as particularly interesting.  He bears a lot in common with my other male literary heroes:  The Scarlet Pimpernel, Sherlock Holmes, the Count of Monte Cristo.  All employ disguises and live double lives, interpret the law in their own way and have a strict moral (or amoral) code or sense of justice and righting wrongs.

Oh, Neville...

Neville Longbottom never really ranked on my list of favorite secondary characters from the Harry Potter series, but after having finished the entire series and seeing this character poster I realized that I'm really a fan. 

image source

A fan?  A supporter?  I like him a lot more now.  He was forever the hapless Gryffindor, constantly berated by many of his professors; someone who did better with plants than with people.  Neville was a side character that elicited an "aww, poor kid" reaction, but never stirred up any stronger reactions from me.  Even when, in the fifth book, we got a chance to see him with his permanently brain-damaged mother I felt only slightly more sympathetic. 

But now that I look back on his character development I can really appreciate how he's grown-- especially in the last book, my goodness!  He's rebellious, a leader, an adult.

Just dance

Confession: I watched The Bachelorette  on Sunday.  I don't typically watch it but my curiosity (and boredom, mayhaps) got the best of me as I found myself flipping through the channels that night.  Don't judge me solely on that piece of information!

The bachelorette, a dentist with a passion for dance, brought 12 of her suitors to Las Vegas, divided them into two dance crews and gave them 30 minutes to come up with a dance (to impress her).  I felt bad for these men, who came to Sin City only to have to earn a mini-date with the bachelorette, not through luck or strategy but through their body movement and gestures.  It's one thing to move about in a sporatically lit club while mashed against other writhing bodies, and it's a completely different matter when dancing in sync with five other people on a stage.  I didn't actually watch their dances due to secondhand embarassment; I regularly make a fool of myself and I don't tend to savor watching others put themselves in potentially embarassing situations.

Dance seems to be a bigger deal with women, yeah? If a man isn't a good dancer it's not a big deal, not as expected; the man is apt to be able to laugh it off good-naturedly and proclaim that it in no way implies incompetence in any other field of experience.  Females tend to feel more self-conscious in the first place, worrying about things like do I smell okay?  Is my hair getting undone?  Are my breasts in place?  Does my muffin top show? I'm rather impulsive (or intuitive) and tend to Just Dance! and find out afterward that I was dangerously close to some sort of hair/wardrobe malfunction.  I haven't done ballet in almost ten years but I'm still somewhat flexible and aware of the limits of my body and how to move.  I've never been graceful but I've managed.

Rabbit Rabbit!

June already?!

I try to make sure to say "rabbit rabbit" first thing when the first day of a new month comes along.  I remember sporatically and feel good-- accomplished, even-- when I remember to say it.  I haven't done any research as to how my saying "rabbit rabbit" correlates or doesn't correlate to having a good month.  Eh.

I'm not very superstitious, but I have my own habits that aren't completely rational:
- as I've mentioned before I eat a banana before any violin performance for which I am anxious
- when chosing a number (e.g. for a locker at the gym) I avoid prime numbers and try to go for ones that are multiples of 3.
-  I don't check my horoscope, but when I do come across one in the paper I only read it if it's near the end of the day, so I don't catch myself in a self-fulfilling prophesy.
- when watching sports and my team is losing I don't vocalize any doubts about their chances of winning