grapes


Et La Mer Efface Sur Le Sable
June 28, 2009, 2:23 PM
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Good morning. Actually, it’s 12:25 but this is summer so who’s keeping track of when morning ends?

Note: This post is kind of high-and-mighty in the beginning, until I realized I sounded like I had a stick up my ass. You are allowed to skip ahead for less stick-up-assedness.

Yesterday, my sister insisted on going to the San Diego Wild Animal Park, in spite of the heat wave weather and my not-quite-gone fever. I could go on about the holding pen-like line setup for the African tour, or the fact that a raven took me for carrion to eat as I napped in front of a gift store, but I won’t.

Phew, you think. I’ve escaped. No. No you haven’t, because instead I will share how repeatedly seeing a family at the Park yesterday made me think about birth order.

There were five children – three girls and one baby boy. The father was American and the mother was Asian. The oldest daughter, who I overheard was named Cheryl or some other spelling of it, reminded me of myself. Rather, her relationship with her father reminded me of my own with my dad. She told on her sisters to him, as if they were confidants. Later, as I watched them leave the Park, she walked ahead with her dad while her sisters trailed behind with her mother.

That’s when I developed a theory of sorts, regarding first-born daughters and their fathers. I don’t plan on taking the time to think about this anymore, but I just wanted to share what I have now. I think that first-borns, girls at least because I don’t know what boys go through with parents, end up the closest to their dads. Maybe it’s because when their younger siblings are born and occupy her mother’s attention and time, she turns to her dad.

That’s it, basically. A simple half-assed theory created in a delirious feverish state of mind. Feel free to counter it if you wish, but I’m not going to bother any more with it for now. I’ve got a few other things to do, like my stop-motion, for one. I’m excited.

This morning Billy Mays died. I wonder if they’ll eventually stop running his infomercials, which would be a shame because they brought much amusement to my life. Seriously though, it is a celebrity death boom. I hope no one else dies.

It’s difficult to believe that we are living in the beginning of a century. That when I’m 45 it’ll be the 30’s again. The 30’s are supposed to be the time right after the Roaring 20’s, flappers, and F. Scott Fitzgerald and right before WWII. Who knows what the 2030’s will be. I feel ancient already, because having lived at the end of a century, I know how end-of-centuryers view beginning-of-centuryers. How ironic then that we are both.

Enough with deepness. I’m dying of summer weather. Gahhh it’s way too hot. Maybe I’ll sing instead, except a minute ago I thought my dad wasn’t home and almost began to sing when BAM he appeared. Stealthy. One man acapella karaoke party hopes gone, just like that.

I haven’t been doing anything productive all summer. At least before I got a fever I studied a bit for SAT II Literature, and got up early every morning to read a bajillion vocabulary/Chinese/music theory books before my brain could wake up enough to protest. No more.

This could screw me over come SAT time.

Remember when I talked about reading On the Road? Alright, it’s finally got my attention. But again, lazy fatteh does not want to read anything except National Geography Traveler right now. Not even that, actually. I don’t know what I feel like doing. Watching “Public Enemies”, going somewhere with air-conditioning with friends, shopping. The latter’s not happening, because I will be financially conscious. I will. Stop looking at me that way.

Heck, if I’m sweating like a pig just sitting here, what makes you think I’m going to go out and walk where the sun will hit me right on the head. A little too graphic? Apologies, miss. It was not my place. Haha that reference always starts out as Barbossa and ends up as Estrella (Elizabeth’s ignorant maid).

What I hate is that I’m in the mood for hanging out outdoors, but the weather is like, “No, you will not go outdoors. You will not!!!! Look! I will become extremely hot and sunny so that you will not go outdoors! Stay a fatteh!”

Ah, yes. This is what blogging used to be like. Ridiculous and full of “fatteh” scattered everywhere.

Even with the windows open I’m sitting in an inferno. My dad says it’s because of where the house is placed, etc. Sounds a bit like feng shui, but it’s really just common sense.

1. Don’t buy a house facing a direction where the wind cannot run through it or you will die of heat.

2. Don’t pick the bedroom with a window facing a streetlamp, even if it is quite large. You will suffer come nighttime.

3. Don’t buy a house that refills itself with dust every five minutes.

4. Don’t buy a house with a nook in the roof conveniently placed for the pigeons to nest in.

5. Don’t let Grapes use your computer or it will be immediately infected by a virus through no fault of hers. And then she will be frustrated because while everyone on facebook is playing Typing Maniac, she cannot because the computer now does not have a sound card or flash. She also cannot edit any of her videos.

In other news, my birthday is exciting.

Yesterday a “wooden” statue of an elephant leading a baby elephant caught my dad’s eye. This Mexican woman who looked suspiciously like my mousy Syrian math teacher was hanging around as we discussed whether to buy it or not. She picked up various other statues, and eventually left. Little did we know that the second we left KABLAAAMMM she picked up the elephant statue and showed her husband. What a stealthy little lady.

It’s okay, Mexican lady. I do that too, at the DVD section in the library. The other day an old man was there, and he was moving slowly down the aisle. The librarian was putting back returned DVD’s, and that’s when you know the new, valuable movies are there. Everyone stealthily follows after him. But I couldn’t tell my sisters to do it without being unstealthy, and the old man was in my way. I trailed behind him, but every time he wanted to see the ones on the bottom shelf his butt would be sticking up in my face. If he had been just a little bit gassy, I may not be here today. Sometimes he would get all shaky and breath really hard. It was bizarre, so I eventually tried to avoid him. I know, he’s old and we all get like that eventually, but it’s still unsettling.

Who does voice acting for Barbie movies, especially the supporting characters…I’ll do it, if only to save the ears of the family of little girls who insist on watching Barbie movies over and over and over and over again. Like my own. Thanks, Jocelyn. You bring such joyful noises to my life. Like, “Aidan! Please, don’t go. I need  you…” Deaaaatth.

Barbie has such decisiveness when naming her pets. “Hmmm. I think I’ll name you Shiver.” and it’s done. I take at least ten minutes doubting myself when it comes to naming even fish. Whell. I applaud her on that.

I spent at least four hours yesterday listening to Andrea Bocelli and Celtic Woman, thanks to my family’s wonderful musical taste. Ah, it’s not that bad. Andrea Bocelli’s version of “Besame Mucho” made me smile because of “Arizona Dream”. Vincent Gallo was hilarious, and his Cary Grant impression was spot on. Paul Leger may surpass Axel as my favorite character in that movie. Okay, he has.

Sayonara, Japanese goodbye.

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I Know the Heart of Life is Good
June 6, 2009, 8:45 PM
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I won’t hide the fact that as I read MUSIC’s comment my heart rate increased dramatically and I had to take a few deep breaths. I actually tried to find my happy place, an activity I believed only existed in mediocre romantic comedies. The good news is, I found it.

I will say that the point of sharing that part of my past wasn’t for telling the world I was a really good violin player. The heart of that post, in my opinion, is the part about how no one is willing to believe that great things are happening around them. And not just in my case.

I do realize how extreme the word “prodigy” is. I use it lightly, as I do fatteh, ugly, and poop. As I was typing, I paused before putting that down – but I get slightly emotional when I think about violin – as pathetic as that sounds, and decided to go through with it anyway.

It’s gotten better, though. Before I thought that I had pretty much wasted my life – bear with my former self here – because I had been given a talent and, well you know the story. I don’t pretend that I’m the only one in this situation, or the only one given musical ability. But the reason for my premature mid-life crisis was that I didn’t really have any other purpose in life – I was still looking for things. If you’ve been following for the past month or so, you’ll know I’ve found something, if not it.

That still didn’t give my friends the right to roll their eyes at my then mid-life crisis. When you’re watching from the outside everything is belittled. Knowing that, I try to see things from the bereaved person’s perspective – maintaining a balance, so to speak. And it doesn’t give them the right to crack jokes about my behavior then either. What someone did in the past is laced with ignorance – because hindsight and all that. They may know they were stupid, but – well, there’s just something very rude about making fun of it.

Back to the happy. We – HOLY GOD IS THAT “BIG GIRL” ON THE TV NO DONT CHANGE THE MUSIC DAMMIT

A human stop-motion is in the works for this summer, and it’s a lot more plausible than “Angry Asian Man” and other stop-motion ideas I’ve had. Once I talk to my buddy, we’ll see if “Angry Asian Man” is happening this summer. I’m pretty sure of the human stop-motion though. It’s for a teenage cast, and it doesn’t take itself as seriously as “Angry Asian Man”.

We’ll be asking people to be in it starting Monday.

EDIT: We left the house – another false start for the San Diego Zoo.

Anyway, it’s pretty much out in the open that I have a blog now. I hope Fatherman isn’t looking for it. He asked me what was on my blog and presented the story of a Taiwanese girl whose blog won awards for its photos of Taiwanese farmers.

My blog – doesn’t have a point. I don’t really want to have a point, but I’d like for it to be more than just my day-t0-day events. Which is why I try to share my thoughts rather than what happens to me that day. Would you rather it have a point or to go on like this…I don’t know, myself. I think I’d feel restricted if I could only talk about food, or furniture.

Although this is my only record of my life, and for posterity there are some mundane things I can’t leave out.

Last night was the Journalism internship banquet. Being with a group of girls and just letting go, having fun – that was really great. I sort of liked the relative anonymity. They know nothing of my old personality, so I could just start over and be a real girl. Sounds weird, but I’m rather reserved about letting my feminine side shine through. It’s a stigma, I think, that a lot of little girls have to deal with. Because every tells them not to be such a girly girl and suck it up.

Permit me to rant a little here – I just finished watching “Ghost Town”, and while overall an ordinary movie, meaning it wasn’t extraordinary, there was just one part that was a bit unbearable for me to watch. Don’t tell me it’s just a joke, or that I’m overreacting. The part where Ricky Gervais makes fun of the Chinese because we have funny names. He tries to justify it by saying it’s not about our faces, but it still reeks of ignorance. Everyone has different languages, and we should respect that by recognizing that things may sound funny – but it means something else, and to a large group of people it makes perfect sense. I’m not usually one to nitpick about racism or whatever. For the most part, I ignore racist jokes because it’s really not worth my time. And I don’t know why this time it mattered, it just really bothered me. I was squirming in my seat, disgusted.

DR. FRANK IS ON TV MIYA LOOK NOW LOOK NOW

I loathe Chinese buffets. And I am only slightly annoyed at the people who go there for the orange chicken and fortune cookies only. Like the couple who exchanged the following conversation today:

Girl: I saw people eating crab legs!
Boy: Ugh.

Thank you, American couple. Thank you for that enlightening insight. I really don’t know what to say to that. I can’t call it ignorance, because then I wouldn’t be any better than Ricky Gervais in “Ghost Town”. I wanted to pick up a crab leg and tear into before their faces, saying, “Mmmm. Yummy.” But sometimes I think that Western cuisine, while good to eat, really pales in comparison to Eastern cuisine. When I want something complicated and a mix of tastes in my mouth, I go for Asian food. When I want just plain good, I go for steak and mashed potatoes.

Today I realized I wouldn’t mind having an old movie poster in my room. A classic would be preferred, just for their aesthetic. I saw a couple today in K-Mart, but only King Kong, which was cool to look at but terrifying, and The Wizard of Oz, which I was terrified of as a child. The Cowardly Lion still strikes fear into my heart. I once made my family change hotel rooms at MGM because there was a “Wizard of Oz” theme going on.

I don’t really have much more to say at the moment. I haven’t been following my favorite blogs lately because I don’t want to risk letting another virus loose on my dad’s laptop. I really want a laptop of my own. Then again, I really want to learn Final Cut Pro – it’s the industry standard – but my dad insists on getting a PC first.

As my activities get more and more hectic, I realize the need for the ability to drive. I need it now – or my dad’s never going to get a moment of rest. But I’m going to miss driving an hour with him to LA every week – and falling asleep for half the drive.

Whell then. How many times have I ended a post awkwardly? Almost every time. Huzzah, goodbye. See you later, Alligator. I want to read Lyle the Crocodile.

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Give Me a Song and I’ll Sing it Like I Mean it.
June 2, 2009, 9:29 PM
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I’ve been listening to classical music since before birth. Yes, my parents were one of those dorky people who played Mozart to their belly. I plan to do the same, because as arrogant as it sounds I like the way I’ve turned out. They must have done something right. I know we fight, but it’s not about being the perfect family. If you grow up in an environment where you never feel pain or insecurity, you could end up a pretty imbalanced individual.

Because of this, and because I grew up playing classical music, I will always appreciate it, even if I ever stop loving it. To play the music is to truly understand it, I think, more so than just listening. You have to express the emotions and know it like the back of your hand.

When we first moved here, my family lived in a house with a magnificently high ceiling. What I wouldn’t give to have that house back again, even if it only had two small bedrooms. There was an avocado tree, large windows, and generally cool temperatures and a lot of light. It was a small cul-de-sac filled with really friendly neighbors. I wasn’t afraid to play in the middle of the street. Most importantly, it was really quiet there.

My sister and I would play classical music in the living room, and in that circle of sunlight beneath the high ceiling, we’d do an interpretive dance. Sometimes it was like a silent movie war scene with musical accompaniment, and sometimes it was as if we were the accompaniment. It was wonderful, to say the least.

Other than classical music I grew up listening to Chinese children’s tapes, basically training for APs and SATs since childhood. Not really, but I listened to the Monkey King on tape, Hans Christian Anderson, etc. And some Chinese kids going to the zoo. I was really thrilled by their adventures. I was like, “Change the tape! Switch it to the other side!”

Really. Cassette tapes. This was the early 90’s, everyone.

In sixth grade I started to listen to the radio. For a brief period of time I liked rap. Let that sink in to your brain. And as much as the elitist in my brain, the one that loves the fact that no one’s ever heard of “Arizona Dream”, would like to only listen to classical music, it can’t change the fact that my consciously formative years were spent relating to music with lyrics.

So now I can’t stop preferring pop music. It is possible though to find some good music. Like MIKA. Why yes, this is shameless advertising. But he doesn’t just sing for singing’s sake, which is a good thing in my book.

As a side note. MUSIC, yes I know what LotR is, but I’m not really a fan. I guess it’s just such a prominent fanbase that many people sort of know what it is. I consider “Harry Potter”, “Lord of the Rings”, and “Pirates of the Caribbean” to be the three biggest fandoms. Looking at the fanfiction stats, that certainly seems to be the case. Although, Harry Potter is filled with scandalous fanfictions, meaning a lot of potential fail that I don’t have time or the nerve to wade through. I would admit that the majority of PotC fans are a lot less intellectual than HP or LotR fans, but if you sift past the Johnny Depp suitors you’d find a group of really intelligent people who are somewhat less geeky than HP and LotR fans and more…artsy? Nothing against HP and LotR fans, we’re just bound to be different because of the nature of our fandoms. Of course there are many PotC fans who love LotR. Personally I think they’re good movies and books, but I couldn’t really be enthusiastic about it. Also it’s the only place where I can stand Orlando Bloom. In everything else he is such a “fiaaaaaasco.” Fiasco. Fiasco. Fiasco.

Goodness gracious, but this week’s busy. Tomorrow morning is my English final, the Amazing Race project. I hope we pull this off.

I love the Jack Sparrow of PotC 1. Still wouldn’t marry him, but Davy Jones really did some damage for him to turn chipmunk-y like in PotC 2 and 3. In 3 he’s starting to return to normal but all that grief-y stuff happens so he turns melancholy instead.

Tis late and I must start doing some more homework and sleeping. See you later, alligator.

Who remembers Lyle the Crocodile?

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Oh Crystal Ball
February 16, 2009, 10:50 PM
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While in Borders today we saw something incredibly stupid in the foreign language reference section. It was a “learn Mandarin Chinese” book, but on the cover there was a smiling chinky man in “traditional” Chinese garb (meaning that of the last dynasty – we haven’t been wearing those squareish things for all eternity) with a migrant worker hat and angry Asian eyebrows. Yes. He had my eyebrows. Although not so well shaped by an Indian threading lady (who resembled a pigeon).

A speech bubble led out of his mouth, and it said something to the effect of “Learn Chinese now!”

Of course, it was all simplified Chinese.

May I state my case here for traditional Chinese? For one, it is much more prettier. Don’t laugh – the whole point of Chinese characters is to paint a picture of the word’s meaning. Simplified, in lieu of making it easier for white people and lazy children of emigrants to learn and write Chinese, also ruins the point of the entire written language in the first place. It looks more like Korean than Chinese with all the empty spaces and such.

Also, at Wal-Mart the other day, I was checked out as I accompagnied my sister to the bathroom. The same day, I got my haircut.

To hide my identity of course.

Can you tell this doesn’t happen to me often? The last time I knew I was being checked out, it was those two old ladies powerwalking by the Tustin conference. And before that before that, it was two ugly Mexican guys on a boat with whistling skills.

I’m disgusted.

My sister’s going to sixth grade camp tomorrow. Oh joy – plenty of good food there, I just don’t think she’ll be able to shower fast enough. One minute compared to forty-five minutes at home?

I could send her a letter but I feel lazy. Oh well – a week minus one sister will be interesting.

Oh my gosh. I’ll have the computer all to my lonesome for a week. Huzzah!

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Where does the Farmer Work?
February 3, 2009, 6:28 PM
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Did I mention that life is currently dull?

If only a herd of unicorns would stampede by and perform a dance number, topped by seven rainbows jiggling in the sky. That would be a day worth living for. Do I sound suicidal? I’m not.

Apparently, though, I look like Buster from Arthur. Remember this guy?

Is it because of the buffalo dream? Because that was not a conscious decision, to become queen of the buffali. Did I mention that it was a nightmare?

Holy guacamole. This slightly cheered up my day. I found a video predicting the end of the world in 2012 – and when it was finished it was so awesome I had to find another, so I looked and beside it -

Could it be? No. Never!

It was.

From the animators of “Lollipop”…holy moly. Yesh. Hey! What’s the big idea?This is the big idea: http://www.passion-paris.com/flash.html#page=d69

Check out the first video. And then of course, watch “Lollipop” because it’s freaking Obama! Excuse me, Mika. What phenomenon is this? I think, however, that Dr. Frank was destined to be my dentist, because we are both lookalikes of EVERYONE. He more so than I, but still.

Obama has it, Christian Bale has it. What does it feel like to have a protruding mole between your nose and your eye? Is it always in your line of sight? In that case, Christian Bale should have been also yelling at his mole, and not just the cinematographer. But really, if you got annoyed at someone, could you just tilt your head to the side and put the mole in front of their face? Or when you’re censoring a movie, could you just cover stuff with your mole?

Person 1: George, what are you doing?

Person 2: I’m…head banging.

Person 1: My, that’s a dirty movie your watching.

Tee hee.

Good golly, I’m bored. There must be an epidemic of boredom traveling around because my friends are all bored too. Or maybe it’s just us.

So. There’s this photo of Miley Cyrus making slanty eyes with her buddies, one of whom is this Asian guy, so this Asian group thingy decides to get very very angry. They do. I wasn’t going to say anything, because even though at first I was like, “What a poop”, I remembered that it was Miley Cyrus, who is generally a poop, and why should I care about her life? Except that they’re making Valentine’s grams with her face on it because apparently it will sell…no it won’t.

Then I read this comment, “Well, if an Asian celebrity had been making round eyes with Caucasians”…Should I just end there at the stupidity of that statement? I have yet to see someone do that, and I’m not the lone Asian kid in the middle of Kansas. There are swarms of us here, kind of. No, I don’t live in Chinatown. And, the commenter wouldn’t have said that unless she did agree that Asians have slanty eyes. Which then obviously proves that she doesn’t know much about Asians because a lot of us have rather hugemongous eyes that really freak me out. Because they look like bugs.

Wow people are vicious in their comments. Shouldn’t be surprised though, I used to sometimes lurk in Johnny Depp forums and read comments of everything related to such. People are vicious there too…and I was strangely more offended then than I am now by this.

Except I do hate when they say stuff like, “Fine, go back to China, where you would get killed for having an opinion.” That makes me say, shut up. You don’t know a thing about being Chinese. Even if it is true that they are freakishly strict over there, people exaggerate for effect. When you’re in that raging commenting mode, you forget common sense.

It’s probably not good for my health to keep reading.

Ah. Angryish post over.

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A Pocket Full of Posies
January 28, 2009, 11:15 PM
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I hope you’re starting to catch the pattern here.

This is our second Oscars 2009 post. Today – we tackle the well-crafted adapted screenplay. Right.

First up is that ever-hyped but kind of disappointing movie. The one that had such a great premise but I heard, was slow.

“Benjamin Button’s life begins at the close of World War I, when he is born with the body of an old man. As the years pass, however, Benjamin discovers that he is gradually becoming younger even as he grows older in experience and wisdom–a situation that informs his relationship with the lovely Daisy, who reenters his life periodically as they grow closer together in physical age.”

I just can’t see Cate Blanchett as a “Daisy”, but Brad Pitt and her look nice together in that weird brown atmosphere the movie seems to be going for. “Daisy” to me, is Meg Ryan’s adopted Chinese daughter. Thank god they didn’t stick with Charlotte.

I can’t believe myself, but Brad Pitt is getting more tolerable as he gets older. Recently he’s been making more interesting movies, I think, and not just being the guy everyone used as an example of a “movie star” when I would have said Johnny Depp. Or “the hottest guy on Earth” when we all know he used to look like a pit bull. Now it’s a little better. Wow. I said nothing about the writing. Well, I’m kind of too lazy to read it.

Doubt. The movie with the “grown up” Amy Adams role. As if “Enchanted” wasn’t grown up enough.

“The arrival of a progressive priest at a Bronx Catholic school in 1964 leads to a confrontation with the tradition-minded nun who serves as its principal. When Sister Aloysius suspects that Father Flynn may be taking an excessive interest in the school’s first African-American student, she responds with a headstrong determination that is either a necessary defense of an abused boy or a heedless condemnation of an innocent man. “

Nothing says exciting like a bunch of warring nuns. I’d like to see this because I’m interested in what Amy Adams did with this part. Meryl Streep and Capote-man? We already know they’re good actors. Amy’s still in that “ooh, is she good” stage. Personally, everyone’s in that stage except Johnny Depp. Because to me, good means being versatile, imaginative, and believable. And few have stepped up to that quota. Well, maybe Geoffrey Rush. Need I remind you that I am a fan not because he looks good?

Mrs. Perry: Are you attracted to him or do you like him, meaning, you admire his acting?
Grapes: I admire his acting.
Mrs. Perry: Oh, good. Because I was going to say, that if you were attracted to him, that wouldn’t be a very good choice, biologically.

“Frost/Nixon”. Tell me, could this be the most boring premise ever? But maybe they did something with it and made it tres huzzah.

“Following his 1974 resignation, Richard Nixon withdraws from public life until talk show host David Frost persuades him–with the help of a sizeable payment–to participate in a series of television interviews.  For Frost, the much-anticipated event offers a chance to establish himself as a serious journalist, while the disgraced former president regards the interviews as an opportunity to reestablish himself on the political stage.”

The reason I have hope is because of the guy playing “Frost”. Yeah, some fan I am, for once, I don’t know the actor’s name. He was in a few other movies, including “The Four Feathers”, which, although was one of those movies that blur because they’re so okay, was pretty enjoyable. Hence, I enjoyed his performance in other movies and I think he’s gong to do pretty well in the future.

“The Reader”. Ah yesh. The movie with the scandalous trailer that I have to go Little Bobby on when they appear on TV. Looks kind of interesting, but something’s holding me back from watching it, and it’s not the scandalous stuff. Just…something seems lacking from the story.

“In late 1950s Germany, fifteen-year-old Michael Berg begins an affair with Hanna, a woman in her mid-thirties. Hanna’s past contains a dark secret, however, the revelation of which, in the decades following the period of his first experience with love, will both shock Michael and force him to confront his country’s history.”

Exciting. Kate Winslet is one of my almost-favorite actresses. Plus, she was in “Finding Neverland” – but that isn’t what sways me. Well, in “Finding  Neverland” I think she played the character closest to her normal manner – Silvia is what she seems like she would be as a mother. “Titanic”, not so much. By the way, I’m never watching that movie again. Unless I desire a night of insomnia.

Finally, “Slumdog Millionaire”. I caught on to this movie just days before all heck broke loose around it.

“An eighteen-year-old from the slums of Mumbai finds himself competing on the game show “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire,” where the questions he must answer offer a look back at his earlier life. The show’s host, however, insists that he must be cheating and takes steps to force young Jamal to admit that a boy from such an impoverished background could not possibly possess the knowledge necessary to win the show’s top prize.”

Huzzah…India gets a foot into Hollywood. There’s something about Indian cinema, besides Chiranjeevi, that irks me. It seems really proud of itself. Then again, Hollywood is also freaking self-righteous. Ah well. Just, after this, and the possible butchering of Chinese culture in that new movie by WB about the Indian guy mistaken for a Chinese kungfu master (absorb that and try not to find something wrong with it), I have the feeling that Bollywood will think they’ve got it made. Patience.

In order to make this less tedious, I’m not going to talk about the same movie twice. So if it comes up in another category, I’ll skip it or talk about it if I actually have something better to contribute then. Huzzah! I’m going to take a shower so I don’t feel icky tomorrow.

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Smile, Finis.
January 16, 2009, 7:30 PM
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Looking up Chiranjeevi of “Indian Thriller” (known originally as “Donga”) fame, I discovered that his daughter’s name is Susmitha. Coincidence?! SIX DEGREES!?!?! I will now die. Also, his now much chubbier face reminds me of Deep Roy. I can just imagine Sushi with him.

Oh. My. Gosh. His favorite actor is Sean Connery. This is freaking fate!!! Except there’s fail where I got my info because it’s spelled Sean Cannery. Like Cannery Row, which my interesting Chinese teacher kept pronouncing with a short o, as if she had been punched.

I’ll probably be back later with the pile of cool stuff I found yesterday night online. Miya, that means the lego bust of Freddie Mercury. I’ve realized that I need more cool stuff on this blog. So huzzah.

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I Gotta Step Outside These Walls
January 6, 2009, 7:07 PM
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The title of the post today is an homage to a song whose music video features the cremation of a piano. Oh joy. I could just tell you the name of the song but I like to make life difficult. For more information, call sushi. No I’m not going to give you her phone number. Neenerneenerneener.

Other things that make life difficult: articles on msn or yahoo that tell you how to be happy. In another tribute (I’m feeling tributary today – not in the way that there are various tributaries of the Mississippi River – YES I spelled it right.) I have decided to write my own “6 Barriers to Happiness and How to Overcome them”. Huzzah. Strap in your seatbelts, I don’t want anyone suing me because they punched their screens in anger. Of course this is all subjective so you may just stare and ask God why he created something like me.

6 Barriers to Happiness: 
1. fangirls who don’t know a thing about their fandom. Case in point: “Oh, Johnny Depp has children?! No! Now I can never marry him even though he is my father’s age!” And don’t tell me you would lovingly care for them as though they were your own, I won’t buy it.
2. evil people on forums. The horror of this situation is that you don’t know who they really are so punching them in the face is not an option. You can only sit, feeling the anger wind up in your belly, the radiation from the computer give you cancer, and the evil rays of the screen make you blind. In some cases people pound the table.
3. beaurocracy. This one comes from the cynical old Angry Asian man in me. He prefers my colon but sometimes, okay, often, has to migrate to my kidneys. This gives me back cramps which in turn stealthily deceives – no, let’s use some 9th grade vocab from The Crucible, beguiles - me into thinking that I’m growing taller. (I acknowledge now that I have Napoleon syndrome. Gahhh….) Anyways. Beaurocracy is what prevents me from dropping out of high school. Maybe I’ll realize when I’m old that it was for the better. After all, no one wants a hobo named Grapes. Beaurocracy is what makes my dad start embarassing arguments in fast-food restaurants. It’s why I dislike elementary. Elementary school is a pothole full of beaurocracy.
4. Boobah. I’ve never watched this show, for the sake of my sanity (whoops, too late to save that). I condone watching children’s TV, heck, I love children’s TV. But this is one show I have always shunned. They are like the flatulating marshmallows that the creators of Teletubbies always really wanted to create. Teletubbies, at least the old episodes, were good. They only farted when they sat down, which was not a lot. Surprising considered their size. “Big girl, you are beautiful!” But Boobahs fart whenever they move, and they move a lot. They dance gracefully and look like big girls gone wrong. Big girls that put on their corset outfit thing upside down and had too much burrito the night before.
5. Disney Channel. Once in a while something good comes out of the Disney factory. PotC, for example, was a good move. Choosing to play CatCF on ABC once in a while even though it’s a WB movie. Also, WALL-E, but that was more of a Pixar thing. You could also say Ariel, but I must argue that The Little Mermaid spawned Arieldepp and I’m still iffy on that one. When I started #5, I paused to think of something good that came out of Disney Channel so that I could be clever, but there was nothing. Hannah Montana and the Jonas Brothers give old people reason to hate me just because I’m 15. I never even get a chance to say, “But I don’t like them.” “Lovebug” is the fluke in my hate, but the guitar solo and singing at the end of the song makes me hate them again so it’s okay. Also, “Twilight”. Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I’m in love with Edward. Or Jacob. He used to be Sharkboy, for heaven’s sake.
6. canker sores. The last and final one! I could have picked something more universal like traffic but I actually like traffic. Maybe that’s because I’m not the one driving, but traffic gives me more time to force my music on my family on the way to church. Over the summer the health teacher told us that no one gets sores in their mouth unless they have herpes or they bit it. This freaks me out because I always learned that we got sores because of unbalance in our bodies. Yeah…it’s a Chinese thing. Just the words “balance”, “within”, and “body” tells you that it’s Chinese. I would have thrown in “chi” but that would have been too much. And now it’s apparently herpes passed down through generations. GAHHHHH. I don’t know though…I prefer the Chinese version. They have been correct many-a-time before. Canker sores make eating spaghetti difficult and painful. If you bite your mouth, you will most certainly bite it again. After biting it there is immense pain, and this weird cold shock runs down your back. Then there is dread. And for the more experienced, it is dread not only for the canker sore but also for the next time you will inevitably bite the same wound before it has healed.

Ways to Overcome Them: Again, subjective.
1. Listen to Mika. His music is happy but his lyrics probably match your angry/sad feelings.
2. Watch a Johnny Depp movie. Either be happy because it’s freaking Johnny Depp and it’s an awesome happy movie, or feel better for yourself because Axel Blackmar/Edward Scissorhands (“I can’t.”)/Sweeney Todd/Gilbert Grape’s life sucks.
3. Read fanfiction. It’s horrible escapism but that’s exactly why you should read it.  You will be taken on a magical journey in which you find an enchanted relic, meet (insert celebrity crush here), hate each other, go on an adventure, fall in love, and live happily ever after until episode 2, where an evil villain from the fandom (if he/she has already been defeated canonically a relative will do) tries to destroy your love. You will probably be kidnapped then saved by (insert celebrity crush here). If you don’t have Internet access a copy of Twilight will do.
4. Get in the shower, turn on the water, and imagine yourself several years from now. Now act out how you will become famous and great as revenge to the evil people who tortured you in high school. Only dorks do this.
5. Watch “Wonder Pets” or “What’s Cookin’ With Theo and Cleo”. You’ll see.
5. Play violin with your wrists and a knife.

I was going to add “teenagers” and “people who are ‘random’ and like to announce that they are so” to the end of the list but I figured you could see my rants in other posts (I was probably PMSing) to read my thoughts on that. For the record, humor is best done when you don’t mention that it is being done.

Okeeday. This list was rather sucky but I was a bit traumatized by my attempt at girliness today. Die.

PS. If anyone can find a recording of Sean Connery saying “sit”, I’d like to hear it. Or see it, even better.

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Like Which Fury Hell Hath No?
January 5, 2009, 10:18 PM
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School hath begun again. Huzzah? Ehh…

I think if there was a recently run-over frog somewhere on a dusty road (probably by Toad from Wind in the Willows) it would make the same sound (Ehhh…) as the air left it’s windpipes. Huzzah for that, then.

Sushi would shun me, but she’s still in India. Huzzah for animal cruelty while Sushi’s away. Okay, so that I don’t get tarred and feathered by animal rights activists, I don’t condone animal cruelty.

Today was…interesting. Actually, no. It was extremely dull, but we did have that odd-in-a-bad-way sub in PE. She’s usually a first-grade student teacher, but she came to teach fat, lazy energetic, enthusiastic high school girls about the wonder of step aerobics, ballet, and jazz dance to the tune of “Bleeding Love”. Yes, I just discovered the strike-through button.

Ms. W, as she thoughtfully shortened her originally two-syllable name which I will not mention on this blog for privacy purposes. Who knows, someone out there may have a first-grade teacher fetish. Gross. Although, “w” is three syllables. I think it would be much more fun for first-graders to just call her by her full name. After all there are fun sounds in it, like “wop!” and half of “neener” in “neenerneenerneener”. (See how I have stealthily I have maintained vaguality, and it doesn’t matter if that’s a word.) “Neenerneenerneener” is the sound you make when you’re a kid and you try to be a real kid (I’m a real boy!) by imitating the imposter kids on TV who are really 17 years old. It’s just an endless cycle of imposterism, really. 

What was I talking about? *scrolls up* Okay, I wasn’t planning on really scrolling up but I ended up believing myself and so I did. I was going to sit here for half an hour trying to remember without scrolling up, but that obviously failed. Oh yesh. Ms. W’s name. I think it would be to help the young childrens learn the alphabet. Oh crap it’s almost 9 PM. I should slepp.(this typo is the last dregs of my PotC obsession appearing in the abominable “Johnny Depp pun” that causes Depptionaries. I was going to name fansites but that would be shunful. I don’t want legions of fangirls setting off with torches.)

Back to Ms. W for the 2nd time. She told us to use our inside voices. Haven’t heard that one since 2nd grade. Okay, 6th but elementary school was belittling in general. It was like the dance room was a time machine and Ms. W was taking us back to a time of graham crackers, celery, peanut butter, and apple juice. But without the modern marvel that is ”Wonder Pets”.

At this point the reader sits back and thinks, “Oh god this is another one of those teenage rant blogs. Look at how this “issue” spins her world. Just wait until she has to worry about mortgages and the recession.” Yes, I am aware of the recession, contrary to teenage stereotype. Bah humbug. I don’t know, I just thought that that was appropriately inappropriate. Just like farting loudly would have been in dance class. Or yelling “roxercise” and playing my fat, the latter of which I did. No one had enough turbo power for farting loudly. Ah, if only sushi were here.

Oh yes. The most ridiculous part was not when she accused us of talking too loud when our group had not been talking at all (a common complaint of teenagers about teachers and some parents), it was when she started putting people on time-out.

I know I haven’t heard of time-out since 2nd grade. Maybe third but that was the deceptively happy year of playing “Sink”, a self-invented game, with Shannon and Evelyn. Not my sister Shannon. It would be the beginning of a ridiculous love-hate relationship that be nicely cliche enough for the big screen.

So. Ms. W. She put people on time-out. Also she turned on the lights to get our attention and said, “Ah, see how quiet you guys can be?”

WHAT A STEALTHY EVIL MOVE. Of course we’re quiet when you call for our attention, but you’re the one that let us talk all period. Talking creates noise, caused by soundwaves. But I don’t think they teach that in first grade. No, they teach you what’s going to work. Teamwork. And then later when she had creeped us out with her time-outing of people (and what was the basis for being picked?) and we had become quiet in the way that people in concentration camps are quiet when the next batch to be gassed is being chosen. Pigs are not quiet when the next batch to become ham is being chosen. They squeal and run about, as seen in many a movie, including the most recent adaptation of “Charlotte’s Web” starring Will’s adrogynous son as Wilbur. Also mentioned by my Chinese teacher, who likes to describe animals at their last moments. Apparently sheep bow down and cry, which in turn tears up Sushi when I tell her this.

We were all quiet in that way, and then she goes, “This is a good volume,” except everyone was silent with fear. It would have been a good moment for the gaseous escape of methane from a behind. Ridiculous is the only word I can think up for this situation, as evidenced by the many times it has been ridiculously used in this post.

What else? Oh yes, we watched “Man of La Mancha” in English. Sometimes I can sense that the rest of my class doesn’t get something when we’re watching a movie while I’ve understood it from the start. Like the beginning, when it’s obviously people putting on a play. People in class kept going, “What the-”, which is the standard response for anything out of the ordinary. The ordinary is stuff like “Gossip Girl” and “the OC”. Sad but true. Also, sad dramas of divorce/death/sickness/murder. Sometimes murder is also a puzzle to them.

Then I began to wonder whether filmmakers think about the intelligence of their audience. Do they wonder if the audience will get what the ambiguous opening scene is? Or if they’ll get references? I know no one would get my references unless they had lived with me for at least a day. And then I realized that filmmakers have to know a lot of things. They’re seen as the idiots of the world really, besides the homeless and drop-outs. (This is just the stereotype) I mean, people tell me all the time that if I want to be a director I don’t have to really pay attention in school. Which is true, but I don’t think in the same way as they think. I could learn all the stuff (not the technicalities of filmmaking) needed to make a good movie outside of school. But I think when people tell me that they mean that it’s a job where you don’t need education because you can be stupid. Filmmakers may be stupid in math or whatever, but they have to be smart with words, culture, history, in order to make a good movie. So during “Man of La Mancha” I was thinking about whether that stuff is worth knowing more than medicine and law. Okay, I’ve kind of driven myself into a wall now. I don’t really know where I was before. Ignore this. Haha but I’ve wasted several minutes of your life.

In AP Human we learned that humans like to influence others and I immediately thought of Miya’s six-degrees chart. To save space she wrote grapes on the bottom and almost off the paper. Anything related to me would be off the paper, and pretty much everything linked there. Huzzah.

PS. When it comes to college, I hate being the first child of an immigrant family.

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Let’s Get Down to Business
December 15, 2008, 7:58 PM
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I read an interview with an artist and wanted to punch someone. I almost started becoming a fan of her work until she started talking about kanji.

It’s like Lindsay Lohan saying that word on her CD is Japanese for “raw”. I looked at it.

No.

It’s kanji, yes, but even more so it is Chinese. Kanji means Han zi. Meaning Chinese word.

So Lindsay Lohan, it’s Chinese for raw. It’s Chinese for birth. Yes, it’s so trendy to love Japanese things.

I’m not saying anything bad about Japanese things themselves, I’ve just noticed that recently a lot of people, mainly celebrities and artists, talk about how they love Japanese and use kanji on everything when they don’t know anything about what they’re talking about.

I think you’d notice that Chinese and kanji look the same.

H0nestly, most Asian things are linked, way way way far back. My dad understands some Japanese on TV because it sounds similar to Chinese.

Haha some people are like, what?

What’s up with all the cultural ranting lately? I need some chocolate. Someone bring me lots of sweet things on the 19th. On top of my present, of course. Haha.

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