As I Walked Out One Evening

I now have a new favorite movie. (I still love I Heart Huckabees and The Matrix, of course). Before Sunrise quotes one of my favorite W.H. Auden poems, so how can I not love it? Even if only two stanzas:

But all the clocks in the city
Began to whirr and chime:
'O let not Time deceive you,
You cannot conquer Time. ...

'In headaches and in worry
Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
To-morrow or to-day.

There's a scene where Jesse and Celine are talking about God, and Celine says something to the effect of God existing in the space between two people talking and getting to know each other. That appeals to me.

I thought I could watch the film in the background while balancing my checkbook and doing laundry, but I found myself drawn into it. Seriously, I like it so much I can't even begin to critique the plot or character development. Basically the film is about life and existence and love and philosophy, and I'm a sucker for all that. But more than anything, the two characters are so young and idealistic and complex and real. It's their authenticity and honesty that is so compelling. I can normally find something --anything-- to critique, but I can't here. Wow.

Waiting for the sequel to arrive.

Comfort food pho sho'

I now like pho. I didn't before, mainly because when half your high school is named Nguyen, you're fed pho a lot by your friends' mothers when you go over to their house, so it's nothing special. But lately, it's been growing on me. It's probably the weather and the fact that I don't have time to make my own soup.

And I love Pho Cyclo, the new cafe a block away from me. Their layout and lighting is brilliant. They've managed to make the place really light and inviting during a gray, wet Seattle winter. And they're inexpensive.

Talofa ma le manuia!

My HS mascot was the Seahawk, and we're older than the city's football team.

It is slightly embarrassing, though, that I have never been able to understand the rules to American football. Though I've read about games in various encyclopedias, I've only been to three games (one in high school, and two in college, where my friends the international students were also clueless.) Also, I think my dad made me watch some biopic of Knute Rockne as a kid. If that counts. Drunk people can remember the rules!!! Why can't I?????

But it's a hometown pride thing. I have to root for the Seahawks on Sunday. I just won't understand if they're doing well. . . .

Besides, half the Samoan players in the NFC are Seahawks. And the predominantly Samoan church that my mother and sisters attend is practically shutting down in support.

Voldemort Can't Stop the Rock!

As my MSN Messenger handle attests, I like JK Rowling's books. And on Sunday a friend introduced me to Harry and the Potters. They're cool! Even looking at a short song list is hilarious. We even "researched" them heavily and found this article; apparently the HP-loving duo are brothers and the eldest went to Tufts. That's so awesome!

Filibuster

C'mon, Kerry, do it!

Monolingual Sadness

Lost in Translation was the first video to arrive from Netflix, and I finally got around to watching it.

Why did everybody think I would like this movie? I didn't. It was boring and slow-moving. What exactly was the plot? Two jetlagged people stay at a hotel, meet over drinks, see the nightlife, eat sushi, then leave. How is that a plot? It happens all the time to travellers. You meet cool people in places like hotel bars, hostels, etc. Sometimes those people are the types you would've have ever met or hung out with otherwise. You have fun with them. You get to know them. Sometimes you hook up with them. Sometimes not. And you're all either jetlagged or tired or touristed-out.

I just kept wondering what the point of the movie was, and when something would happen that would move the story along. But there was no story.

Maybe I really do have ADHD.

Knit One, Purl Two

Also excited about Needed Knitting. (M-N, you should meet the FG, who was knitting all during the Patriots-Broncos game last weekend!) I, for one, haven't picked up knitting needles since I was 11 and my mother made me, in a fit of panic about the public schools doing away with mandatory home ec for girls. I made a very bad scarf.

And home ec would'n't have helped me learn much in the kitchen, either!

The Hands of Fate

Just really, really excited about the Torgoland debut. Dude! It's about time!

Match Point

I fully admit that I saw Match Point because it starred Jonathan Rhys-Meyers (it's winter, I'm that shallow). So I knew nothing about this movie going into it! In fact, I thought it might be a romantic comedy involving tennis players. OOPS! It was a rather heavy drama. The plot resembled an opera. The soundtrack was almost entirely opera pieces.

Overall, it was a good film. Not great, but good. I found it lacking in terms of character development; who is this lone Irish guy with no family or friends, a former tennis pro who starts out with nothing and ends up in the echelons of wealthy society? To me, there didn't appear to be any chemistry between JRM and Scarlett Johansson, which is kind of awkward if their affair is supposed to drive the movie. And I wanted to know more about her character, too!

There were moments I wish Woody Allen would've explored more. The recurring theme throughout the film is luck. But Allen only takes it as far as mere incidents in life. Given that both the poor Irish bloke (get it? luck?) and the unlucky American girl are central figures in a privileged setting, I thought the film might touch on issues of class. The most fascinating scene of the film started with the phrase "I think faith is the path of least resistance" over a dinner conversation. The scene had so much potential for a commentary on luck, faith, and class. But the scene ends abruptly with the spoiled rich girl brushing off the topic as too unpleasant, and the characters then discuss trivialities.

But I know Match Point isn't supposed to be a philosophical discourse. It wasn't a Greek tragedy (though Greece features semi-prominently); there was no fate or destiny involved, just "luck" and the individual. (Although I did keep thinking that half of the things in the movie described as "luck" can actually be explained quite easily by math and physics and social science.) It was very much an opera, with characters wrapped up in the moment.

And now there is Matthew Goode to think about.

Junkie

It's official, I'm addicted to TV. While on the floor, dying from going to the gym, I managed to grab the remote control. You've Got Mail was on; I saw it when it first came out and didn't like the end. Most of it was cute, but what grated on my nerves (aside from Meg Ryan) was the fact that, in an anonymous flirty penpal relationship, the male is the one to learn the female's identity and so has a mental advantage., and then starts to play mean mind games. It's based on The Shop Around the Corner, which I saw back in high school. (And incidentally, Meg Ryan's bookstore in YGM is call TSATC...) But even as a teenager (who would later write a letter of complaint to the West Seattle Big 5 for having sexist display sections), the original Jimmy Stewart film ticked me off for the same reason --the guy has the edge all the way! What is up with that??!!

But then it is a film about the art of writing, independent stores vs big corporate chains, public personas vs private personalities, and books. All of which are themes I love. That's why I couldn't get up off the floor, and watched the whole thing again. Although I did manage to crawl to the leftover box of Christmas choocolates....

Netflix

I succumbed! The first of my movies came in the mail today. I blame the new 20" TV one of my oldest friends gave me for Christmas/Hannukah/New Year/housewarming. In the not-quite-a-week I've had it, I've seen:

Down with Love -- I forget what cable station played this, but I caught it right after the tail end of Shakespeare in Love, which I love and hadn't seen in a while. It drips cheese, but I'm a sucker for retro-60s films and Ewen McGregor. The film had a ridiculously complex plot twist at the very very end that reinforces what a friend once said over a 1:00am breakfast at Beth's: "Men are dumb, and women are evil." But the movie, though somewhat anti-feminist at its core, is good fun all around.

Project Runway -- such crap, but I got sucked into all the drama, as well as the creativity of the designers. In the episode I watched, they had to use the clothes on their back to make a completely different outfit. It was kind of captivating to see what they designed.

Bliss -- OH DAMN! That is all I have to say! Seriously, what else is there to watch at 2:00am? And it's good! They, uh, also have clips on their website. Some of those clips are a lot better than others. Or... so I hear...

This is more TV than I've watched in a while. And it's only been 5 days! I'm doomed --doomed!

And Colin Firth is the guest today on The Tonight Show.

Polly Wanna Tattle?

Tuesday morning monotony broken by a story about a guy who found out his girlfriend was cheating on him because his pet parrot kept repeating the other guy's name.

No Rest for the Weary

The Blue Scholars are awesome.

First heard "Southside Revival" on KEXP a couple months ago (initial reaction: "Wha? KEXP plays hip-hop this time of day?") Immediately got excited about their Seattle-centric, political lyrics. I think I got excited because besides Sir Mix-a-Lot, Seattle doesn't really have a hip-hop scene that goes beyond a local buzz. The Blue Scholars' lyrics have familiar locales and events (as opposed to the standard LA/Chicago/NYC hip-hop base) -- and this Chief Sealth alum can relate!

Seattle's image has changed so much in 15 years -- it's now the pre-eminent latte-drinking, uber-cybersavvy, enviro, literati portrait. I say that with no judgement, as someone addicted to caffeine and the internet who once worked for PIRG and loves to read. But I also say that as someone who's seen Belltown evolve from a neighborhood known for its soup kitchens, not its sushi and boutiques; as a proud product of an underfunded school district in a city experiencing a tech boom.

All cities have different sides to them, and I'm glad that Blue Scholars lyrics remind me about the blue-collar roots of the Emerald City, of the Boeing-employed and union workers who still have a necessary if now largely unrecognized presence, of the vastly different worlds of growing up in one town and of choosing to come back as an adult and live in it in its new incarnation.

Now own both their albums, and have emailed peeps in five states about them! Their lyrics are nowhere online, but my faves are "No Rest for the Weary," "Southside Revival," "Burnt Offering," "Evening Chai," and "Commencement Day."

Atticus Finch, where are you?

Confederates in the Attic came highly recommended from multiple sources. Tony Horwitz travelled through all the Confederate states, visiting Civil War sites and getting to know the people who keep it alive in various ways.

I made it through three chapters! Three whole chapters, which took me from the Introduction, through North Carolina, and half of South Carolina.

It's not that it wasn't well-written (Horwitz is an excellent writer). It's not that the subject matter is boring (I'm not all that interested in the Civil War, but the book isn't about the War, it's about the contemporary ways it is remembered). It's not that the idea of keeping the Confederacy alive has undertones of racial disharmony (Horwitz does a good job, in the first three chapters, of crossing the street frequently to talk to black folk and ask what they think of DAC celebrations, the flag debate, and memorials.)

Honestly and ultimately, it was overdue at the library, and someone else reserved it so I couldn't re-check it out. =) And I am not about to rack up the library fines! Again.

But it got to be too much, after only three chapters and two states. After hanging out with the Civil War reenactors, the joint Daughters of the Confederacy/Sons of the Confederacy after-dinner trivia, and the museum curators, I got the point. The stories of the people were fascinating -- they all emphasized escapism, family heritage, and a sense of belonging as reasons why they keep the memory of the Confederacy alive. But though fascinating, it was all a little repetitive. And I didn't feel like reading the different manifestations of the same sentiments through Virginia, Alabama, Mississippi, and the rest of the Confederate states.

I did, however, re-request it from the library, so perhaps if I keep putting myself in queue I can eventually finish the book.

Finite Incantatem

I'll eat all foods at least once.

I finally got around to eating the last of my candy from my Christmas stocking -- Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, by Jelly Belly. I love all jelly candies, and get several in my stocking every December 25th. (Gotta love a mother that knows enough about your reading habits and candy addictions to make you squeal on Christmas morning!)

I have no idea what real Boogers and Ear Wax taste like, but the Jelly Belly versions were rather bland. Both "Dirt" and "Earthworms" tasted like a watered lawn (surprisingly refreshing!) -- "Grass" did not. "Vomit" ... yes. That's all I have to say about that. Everything else was unspectacular. Or maybe my taste buds were too overwhelmed!

My favorites: Toasted Marshmallow, Dirt, Black Pepper, Soap.

I wonder why they didn't get Acid past the focus groups?

Happenstance

I've discovered the sultry sounds of Rachael Yamagata. She's awesome! And it's not just because of the Asian last name!

Scots Wha Hae ...

Attended a b-day celebration at the new St Andrews Bar & Grill in Seattle, which has a cheesy-in-good-fun Scotland theme. When the b-day boy is named McDonald, it's entirely appropriate, and apparently also leads to drunken stories of Glencoe.

The food was nae sae bad (but nae sae good, either). Highlights from the menu:

Rod Stewart Onion Rings ($5) -- If you want my body, and you think I'm sexy, come on try these battered O's. Served with our special Rod sauce.

Robert the Bruce Burger ($10) -- Legend has it that this was the pre-battle meal of the Scottish king before he defeated Edward II at Bannockburn in 1314.

Loch Ness Fish 'n Chips ($9) -- These fillets are so tender, you'll think you're taking a bite out of Ole Nessie herself.

Fresh Caught Haggis (market price) -- We only serve haggis that has been humanely trapped. Due to illegal poaching and dwindling stocks, we only serve male haggis. Any haggis caught that are less than 18 months old are released back in to the wild so they may reach full maturity adn hopefully have a chance to breed. ...

Cute and hilarious! So while half of it caters to the Bonnie Prince Charlie romantic types, the other half seems like a serious pub. With a serious collection of whisky -- I think I counted 25 single malts! I've only seen that many at Chapel.

On a side note, the bar happened to be across the street from the house I lived in before the fam moved to the Westside, so of course I took a walk past it. And, like many nostalgic interludes, it was probably best not to return and stare at Time so defiantly in the face like that.

And then! I knew Aurora Ave was infamous for its streetwalkers, but I had no idea that any female walking alone on the street would be taken for one! So apparently to start an Aurora-type business transaction, a car driven by a lone male will slow down and park by the curb, and wait until said lone female either hurriedly puts on headphones, stops and walks the other way, or whips out her cell phone to make a fake call. Three different cars in the 20 minutes I was strolling around trying to reminisce fondly about the old childhood neighborhood! And no, my attire was entirely preppy (sweater, khakis, coat). Jeez.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot...

Warm fuzzies... received 9 text messages in an hour and a half, from different friends saying "Happy New Year." Sent 8 myself. Met cool new peeps at a house party and street corner.

I usually cheesily reflect on the past year -- and in going over 2005, there were a surprising number of firsts for me, for better or worse:

• Becoming a JACL board member -- I remain incredibly proud and humbled to be part of this organization, which always does the right thing. JACLers are good people who understand what community means. Looking forward to continuing the work in 2006 with good friends.
• Going to the batting cages -- even though I played softball in high school, we never took a field trip.
• Visiting LA -- and getting sunburned in through a windshield, stuck in traffic for 3 hours.
• Having the first of my friends have a baby -- and, six months later, getting the cutest Christmas card with a smiling baby on the front.
• Karaoke -- yup, 2005 saw me go solo for the first time (previously sang exclusively in groups).
• Visiting Austin and getting no sleep because the motel had 1) crazy, sketchy occupants who were really loud at all hours; and 2) HBO.
• Learning uber-basics of HTML --supposedly for designing action webpages at work, but it comes in handy for blogging too!
• Dressing up for Halloween, however badly -- being the shepherd for a middle school church social doesn't count!
• Experiencing an election without volunteering for a campaign -- I have no idea how this happened, but it did and it's weird but oddly liberating.
• Buying a NorthFace coat -- yes, it's the Colby uniform and yes, it's selling out. But damn, it's warm! And waterproof.

Not that other years haven't had a collection of new activities or experiences. (After all, isn't that what life is?) But I think it's still good to reflect. For auld lang syne, my dear...

Despacio

Have discovered a better language immersion technique than rocking to Thalía : Univision. And by that I mean the website and the TV station (accompanied by a grammar book, of course). Commercials are particularly interesting and instructive (written words with the voiceover pronunciations)!

"Stress relievers"

Note to self: when transporting condoms filled with flour through airport security, don't choose Philadelphia.

"The substance of things hoped for"

Slate has two really fascinating articles relating to Christmas. In the first one, a minister addresses the problematic Immaculate Conception. Basically, the article posits the notion that even if Jesus had a human father, it doesn't take away from the symbolism of the Christmas story. (There's an awesome quote by Elizabeth Cady Stanton: "If a heavenly father, why not a heavenly mother? And if an earthly mother, why not an earthly father? . . . I think the doctrine of the Virgin Birth as something sweeter, higher, nobler than ordinary motherhood, is a slur on all the natural motherhood of the world." I forget how radical those 19th-century American feminists were! Even Lucy Stone is lost on contemporaries.) The second article is an exchange between three theologians about the existence of Jesus, the significance of faith, and the importance of historical and biological accuracy.

Nerdy but interesting articles. I have a tremendous amount of respect for theologians as scholars of texts that some people happen to consider holy -- they analyze, critique, and debate various scriptures like literary hawks dissect a writer's work. That's a rather tough field -- I mean, here are folks who are just double-checking the Greek and Hebrew translations, contributing to a discourse about the cultural roots of and current significance of texts; they're half historians, half literary critics. The only problem is that to understand most their analyses you have to have some familiarity with the texts themselves (and some of us try not to do that anymore). It also just so happens that the subject matter is something for which others have killed or been killed. (Actually, I shouldn't say that... nothing "just so happens.")

Of course, the only reason I think this is all fascinating is because I'm not spending Christmas Eve with family tonight, having declined to attend the apparently mandatory Christmas church service Sunday morning.

Brokeback

Not really a fan of Annie Proulx (her stories are always such depressing reminders that life isn't easily summed up), but the alumni magazine always writes about her. ALWAYS. So I figured, if the latest film based on her work does win a Golden Globe or Oscar or whatever, I should at least be familiar with it before having to read about it in the Spring issue.

Good film! I cried.

And I do think Heath Ledger's performance is brilliant ... although that may be only because I've only seen him in teeny-bopper high school flicks like Ten Things I Hate About You. At any rate, he does a stunning job portraying a character short of words and external affection but boiling with so much more, hemmed in by his own trepidation as well as by social codes and gender constructions.

Gorgeous scenery, too! Ang Lee does an amazing job of visually showing how beautiful and stark and empty Wyoming is, and how beautiful and stark and empty lives of cowboys (especially two in particular) can be.

Pooh!

Pooh turns 80 today! Apparently I looked like Winnie the Pooh as a toddler (and my sisters say I still do), so it's one of my dozen nicknames. To the point where my mother would tape little cut-outs of Pooh onto my college care packages.

It's a Cold, Cold Winter

Continuing the books-from-the-senior-book-recommendation-list, I finished The Coldest Winter Ever by Sister Souljah the other night.

In a nutshell, it's about Winter, a ghetto princess who loses her privilege and protection when her drug king father is ultimately busted by the cops. Half the story describes either Winter's shopping sprees or her sexual exploits, since those are the only illusions that can make her happy. But they're not described in any titillating or sensual detail. Souljah writes in Winter's Brooklyn vernacular. She lists things as they happen, with no poetry or lyrical style. Just the bare facts, in one teenger's voice.

Then there's the weird insertion of the author into the story. Throughout the book, Winter hears Sister Souljah on the radio, picks up flyers for a Sister Souljah event, and is referred to a Sister Souldjah discussion group by a friend. Eventually Sister Souljah, as a character in her own story, takes Winter under her wing, exposes her to critical thinking, affairs of the mind, etc. This is the point where the reader thinks Winter will turn her life around. But she doesn't. She's too easily distracted by money and sex, and loses sight of friends, family, and community. The girl is straight up cold in her relations and dealings with other people; she approaches everything and everyone as a business venture to see what she can get from them. She falls in with an up-and-coming drug dealer, and ends up in jail by the age of 18.

I just thought it was a little odd to write yourself into your own book like that, as a beacon of hope for a little ghetto superstar who winds up serving time because she won't listen to you. I was thinking this might be a parallel to hip-hop music, where artists write themselves into their own lyrics.

In all, The Coldest Winter Ever wasn't a great book, and I didn't think it was particularly well-written. I couldn't relate to the main character, and I found myself unable to empathize with her, either. (Your family's belongings have been confiscated by the police, you're technically homeless, you have limited funds availalble, and you go shopping for designer gear every other day???) And yet I couldn't stop reading the book! I didn't particularly care what happened to Winter; I just wanted to see how she'd draw on her street smarts to get out of the messes life kept throwing her. But she doesn't, and ultimately the point is that she can't. Sister Souljah so drastically took the rags-to-riches American "dream" and tore it down: Winter's riches-to-rags nightmare isn't first and foremost a commentary on the state of the inner city. It's a portrait of how money, sex, and beauty are fleeting, and therefore so are any human connections based on them.

It's the first book from the '01 book recommendation list that I've liked somewhat!

Mucho queso

I have six months to learn to converse in Spanish. Or more accurately, to possibly give a short speech and toast in Spanish, and talk to people afterwards.

So I've been listening to Thalía. Specifically, her Dance Hits Remixed album. All the dance tunes are awesome, and make the morning bus rides bearable.

But I don't think it's helping me with the grammar!