"George, I am GAY! If you have to choose, choose me."- An Italian citizen in love with George Clooney.
Right now I'm listening to Korean pop. Fariha is in my room and we are frustrated at blogger. She's rebelling and getting a wordpress (booyahh blogger.)
And we're cracked out.
Energy, why do you leave me?
Sometimes it's just so hard to make sense...like now.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
come fly with me
A List
1. Finish watching "Lovely Complex"
2. Actually do conference work
3. Shower
4. Send Caitlin her package
5. Shop for the classy party
6. Learn Korean
7. Refrain from using the words, "epic" & "revolutionary"
8. Start reading the NY Times headlines
9. Get a pet dog named Thor
10. Choose the movies I pay to see more carefully
11. Start looking at my future
12. Fawn over Lee Hongki & the rest of the cast of You're Beautiful
13. Write less letters in class
14. Have my own theme song
15. Think more. Obsess less.
1. Finish watching "Lovely Complex"
2. Actually do conference work
3. Shower
4. Send Caitlin her package
5. Shop for the classy party
6. Learn Korean
7. Refrain from using the words, "epic" & "revolutionary"
8. Start reading the NY Times headlines
9. Get a pet dog named Thor
10. Choose the movies I pay to see more carefully
11. Start looking at my future
12. Fawn over Lee Hongki & the rest of the cast of You're Beautiful
13. Write less letters in class
14. Have my own theme song
15. Think more. Obsess less.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
new york, I love you
Really. I do. Do you know who I don't love? Everyone behind the abomination that is "New York, I Love You." It was horrific. There were causalities (mainly our wallets.) We suffered extreme losses, time, money, respect. After "Paris Je t'aime", I thought how a movie about New York love would be wonderful. As a native New Yorker I was genuinely offended. This was most definitely not the New York I know and love. According to this movie everyone in New York smokes. Everyone. Not only do we all smoke, but we always get into a taken cabs. We only go on the subway to think about our recent one-night stands (where virtually, Drea de Matteo is literally the only person in the subway car rethinking her passionate night with a total stranger.) We're not Chinese if we don't own a laundromat. New York apparently has no homosexual love stories, or for that matter any black or Latina women. And bottom line, New Yorkers are just plain weird.
LIES. The movie is full of LIES. It was poorly edited. One of my least favorite story lines (there is heavy competition, since they all are my least favorites.) about a struggling, drug addled artist who goes to Chinatown. There he sees the Chinese herbalist, she's young, she's beautiful, she's his muse. He takes her image in his head, goes to the corner of Henry street and sits in a restaurant. While he eats, he takes a napkin and using soy sauce outlines her face...leaving her almond eyes empty. We now have a Chinese girl drawn in soy sauce...without eyes. He practically stalks her...and prepositions her; he wants her to be his model. She hesitates. He is so inspired that he pops some pills, downs it with Jack Daniels and dies. She goes to find him....but he's dead. She finds her creepy soy sauced portrait, takes a photo of her eyes and PASTES them on the empty outline and stares smugly at it. It is creepy. It is weird. It is gross.
There is a woman who is shown constantly through the movie filming New York on her camcorder. A fake paraplegic who has sex with an (adorable) Anton Yelchin while hanging from a tree (let's not ask questions here...I was beyond disturbed.) A Hasidic Jew & Hindu love story (where she pictures him with the curls and the hat, and he sees her in a wedding sari. Really Mira Nair, really?!) A game of cat and mouse between Rachel Bilson, Hayden Christensen & Andy Garcia (whose screen time gave me a headache because it made ZERO sense.) The strange Julie Christie and Shia LaBeouf dynamic (honestly...what was that ABOUT?) Shia LaBeouf asks her if she is cold...proceeds to tell her he will close the windows...and PLOP, he falls to his death. We cut to a scene of him BLEEDING on the pavement (and why was he crippled?) And let's not forget the struggling writer trying to pick up a hooker. It was discombobulated. It was horrendous. It was NOT my New York. There was so much potential to do something good. To really show the city, but they failed to capture the essence of New York and made us seem like crazies who smoke three packs a day.
The only thing that was adorable was the old couple. Their banter was sharp and romantic. Their celebration of their 63rd wedding anniversary while trying to get to the Coney Island boardwalk was the best thing about this abysmal movie.
Damn false advertising! Never again. I don't need a movie to show me. New York, I will always love you.
LIES. The movie is full of LIES. It was poorly edited. One of my least favorite story lines (there is heavy competition, since they all are my least favorites.) about a struggling, drug addled artist who goes to Chinatown. There he sees the Chinese herbalist, she's young, she's beautiful, she's his muse. He takes her image in his head, goes to the corner of Henry street and sits in a restaurant. While he eats, he takes a napkin and using soy sauce outlines her face...leaving her almond eyes empty. We now have a Chinese girl drawn in soy sauce...without eyes. He practically stalks her...and prepositions her; he wants her to be his model. She hesitates. He is so inspired that he pops some pills, downs it with Jack Daniels and dies. She goes to find him....but he's dead. She finds her creepy soy sauced portrait, takes a photo of her eyes and PASTES them on the empty outline and stares smugly at it. It is creepy. It is weird. It is gross.
There is a woman who is shown constantly through the movie filming New York on her camcorder. A fake paraplegic who has sex with an (adorable) Anton Yelchin while hanging from a tree (let's not ask questions here...I was beyond disturbed.) A Hasidic Jew & Hindu love story (where she pictures him with the curls and the hat, and he sees her in a wedding sari. Really Mira Nair, really?!) A game of cat and mouse between Rachel Bilson, Hayden Christensen & Andy Garcia (whose screen time gave me a headache because it made ZERO sense.) The strange Julie Christie and Shia LaBeouf dynamic (honestly...what was that ABOUT?) Shia LaBeouf asks her if she is cold...proceeds to tell her he will close the windows...and PLOP, he falls to his death. We cut to a scene of him BLEEDING on the pavement (and why was he crippled?) And let's not forget the struggling writer trying to pick up a hooker. It was discombobulated. It was horrendous. It was NOT my New York. There was so much potential to do something good. To really show the city, but they failed to capture the essence of New York and made us seem like crazies who smoke three packs a day.
The only thing that was adorable was the old couple. Their banter was sharp and romantic. Their celebration of their 63rd wedding anniversary while trying to get to the Coney Island boardwalk was the best thing about this abysmal movie.
Damn false advertising! Never again. I don't need a movie to show me. New York, I will always love you.
Monday, October 5, 2009
blame it on my youth
I need a giant filter for my head. A processor. Something to pull apart facts, details, and the streams of people I meet. I used to be so good with names. Now I'm faltering over people I should know. I want to sound insightful in my everyday life, to make lasting impressions, good or bad.
I am usually wonderful with time management but I just can't manage my social time productively. I wish I had the time to spend it with everyone I want to. I feel people slipping away from me like a scenic ending shot of a movie--the camera just pans further and further away. The scenery is beautiful but that's all it is, there's no more depth in it, and if you blink the credits start to roll. I don't want my relationships to be like credits, just rolling on by to key grip #4. I want to be involved with peoples lives. I want to make those lasting impressions and I will.
I am usually wonderful with time management but I just can't manage my social time productively. I wish I had the time to spend it with everyone I want to. I feel people slipping away from me like a scenic ending shot of a movie--the camera just pans further and further away. The scenery is beautiful but that's all it is, there's no more depth in it, and if you blink the credits start to roll. I don't want my relationships to be like credits, just rolling on by to key grip #4. I want to be involved with peoples lives. I want to make those lasting impressions and I will.
Friday, August 14, 2009
be careful, it's my heart
I'm going to be Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed, you know, except without Michael Vartan and a horrendous white boa. Well that and millions of other things. My life does not exactly parallel Josie Grosie's life, but it is time for me to fall in love. But where am I to meet my fated one? Like the lesson learned at the end of 500 Days of Summer, I'll leave it to coincidence, happenstance. One day, hopefully soon, I'll have one of those girl meets boy, boy falls in love with girl, and they live happily ever after. I am not asking for a Asian drama, but something real and when that day comes, be careful, it's my heart.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Saturday, August 1, 2009
older
They say wisdom comes with age. I am not entirely convinced. Wisdom roots from experience. I would say I have been exposed to many different things this year; being alone in a foreign country (sort of), traveling, having a hellish internship, but with all of these things does it mean that I have become wiser? A truly puzzling question. Yes and no. I know that I like cider. I know how to make a chicken roast. I know why I love traveling. I know that my boss is a horrid, manipulative woman. I know myself better, or I think I do. With all these things that I do know, there is still much to learn. For example, what the hell I want to do with the rest of my life.
I am sick of people asking me that. Yes, I realize that this is my senior year, that I cannot relive the past of my glorious high school days, or shrink in a corner to hide (as much as I want to). I am freaking out a bit. A bit is an understatement of the century. I am engulfed in a blind panic. But people reassure me, "Alex, you have so much talent." "You're such a gifted writer." "You have time, just think about it." The panic still has not abated. This internship has taught me that the real world is a bitch and I am going to end up working somewhere that I'll probably detest just as much, so I better get used to it. I won't resign to that fate, but when I tell myself to rise above that, to become something I want to be, there is a big question mark looming above my head. And until I can figure that out people will just have to live with my answer to that vexing question with, "When I grow up, I want to become an astronaut."
I am sick of people asking me that. Yes, I realize that this is my senior year, that I cannot relive the past of my glorious high school days, or shrink in a corner to hide (as much as I want to). I am freaking out a bit. A bit is an understatement of the century. I am engulfed in a blind panic. But people reassure me, "Alex, you have so much talent." "You're such a gifted writer." "You have time, just think about it." The panic still has not abated. This internship has taught me that the real world is a bitch and I am going to end up working somewhere that I'll probably detest just as much, so I better get used to it. I won't resign to that fate, but when I tell myself to rise above that, to become something I want to be, there is a big question mark looming above my head. And until I can figure that out people will just have to live with my answer to that vexing question with, "When I grow up, I want to become an astronaut."
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