Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: celebrity impersonator, Chloe Sevigny, Diego Luna, dream, Hank Azaria, Hayden Christensen, ice cream cake, Marilyn Monroe, michael jackson, Mister Lonely, Peter Saarsgard, Samantha Morton, Shattered Glass, Stephen Glass, work
August 7, 2009
Dear readers,
In the midst of futilely trying to hang on to my awesome dream this morning (I’ll only say that there was an epidemic & rabid bear), my mom returned home from work early. My first thought was, “Oh god, is it noon already? What a fatteh I am for lounging in bed for so long.”
But no, she came home to take me to work. A self-imposed “take your kid to work” day. So here I am, at her office, blogging. The irony is that it’s her boss’ wife’s birthday, so we basically went around buying things that I will buy again for Saturday. Then we had a little party at the office with Chinese food and cake. The ice cream cake from Baskin Robbins just secured its place on my birthday menu. It is delicious.
Last night I watched “Shattered Glass”, a movie about Stephen Glass - a writer for New Republic magazine in the 90’s. He fabricated around half of his articles, 27 out of 41, I believe. How did he do something so unbelievable? The movie itself wasn’t bad. Hayden Christensen played Glass, with a supporting cast of Hank Azaria, Chloe Sevigny, and Peter Saarsgard. While it hasn’t become one of my favorites, it succeeded in leaving a lasting impact on me. Oftentimes I finish a movie with no feelings whatsoever, just a blank and perhaps a blurry plotline. That’s not to say the plots are muddled – I think the execution renders them not memorable.
The night before I watched “Mister Lonely”, a movie about a Michael Jackson impersonator, played by Diego Luna. Personally, I think he resembled Elvis more than Michael Jackson, but he did a great job nonetheless. The premise of the movie was very interesting. He’s in Paris and he meets a Marilyn Monroe impersonator (Samantha Morton – from “The Libertine”, with Johnny Depp of course) who invites him to return to her husband’s impersonator commune in the Highlands. By the way, her husband is Charlie Chaplin and their daughter is Shirley Temple. Other residents include a dirty-mouthed Abe Lincoln (who wasn’t as scary as the real deal), the pope, the Three Stooges, Madonna, the Queen, and James Dean.
The movie was very independent – meaning this was clearly made for the director’s vision and not for the audience. I didn’t like it, but I know the director put a lot of effort into it and I’m not going to say it was a bad movie. In fact, it was very imaginative and fresh.
Ever since I read that magazine where they discussed the stars of tomorrow (and said that Robert Pattinson was the new Johnny Depp – blasphemy), I’ve been wondering who my children will look up to. Inevitably the teen stars of today will continue working and become the mainstream actors. And in that way, Robert Pattinson will become the next Johnny Depp and Johnny Depp will become the next Sean Connery. Blarghhh. It’s a vicious cycle, and this is where nostalgia comes from. So far only a few young actors impress me, but I believe that they will become more experienced and show some real talent. It’s weird to think that my daughter might end up crushing on Zac Efron who by then will be forty-something. How will I deal with that?
Grapes’ daughter: oh my zac! (because that is what obnoxious fangirls do.) He’s so hot!
Me: *puts “High School Musical” in blu-ray machine (because this is the future apparently)* Look! Look at the sheer gayness! Repent! Watch this instead! *puts in CatCF*
Grapes’ daughter: And this is less gay?
Me: Oops. *puts in PotC*
Grapes’ daughter: *sees Jack Sparrow* Still gay.
Me: *puts in “Don Juan DeMarco”*
Of course it won’t work. Speaking of blu-ray and HD and all that stuff, I don’t like it. I don’t like the fact that we have to see every sharp detail. There’s magic in blurriness, just like there’s magic in hand-drawn animation. The more technological we get the less awesomeness there is in stuff. And that, I believe, was part of the problem with PotC 2 & 3. They got consumed with having the latest effects and making everything technologically epic that the story suffered. And you know how I feel about PotC 3. Why would you put the story back on Elizabeth if it’s obvious Jack is the one people go to see? Protagonist be damned, go with the flow!
Sincerely,
Grapes
Filed under: sweet dreams are made of this | Tags: celebrity, Public Enemies, bed, actors, British, dream, directing, critics, class, We Are Golden, Persepolis, Almost Strangers, teen pregnancy, movie reviews
July 31, 2009
Dear Readers,
Last night I dreamed that I hacked into my mother’s bank account with a few of my buddies and old classmates and got pregnant. The pregnancy was not a result of stealing money, although with dreams you never know. My mother, psych teacher, “Juno”, and Bristol Palin have scared me away from teen pregnancy in the last few weeks more than those teen mothers at last year’s ninth grade retreat. The dream didn’t help, especially not when I had to explain to my mother that I was the one who had hacked into her account and that I was pregnant. Luckily I woke up before I had to confess anything.
I’ve taken to sleeping with my mom because there may or may not be bugs sucking my blood in my own bed. I woke up late because I didn’t have psych this morning, and my mom was getting ready to go to work. My mom just bought one of those memory-foam mattresses, and she put a white sheet on it. In short, I woke up on a cloud. I’m smitten with her mattress and its white sheet.
Today was uneventful. I filmed a bit more of the boring part of my video and cooked some fish. Now I’m waiting for my mom to get home from work so we can maybe go shopping and finish the end of the BBC drama I was watching two days ago, “Almost Strangers”.
The majority of British actors always amaze me. Aside from their talent they seem to possess some sort of class that most American actors don’t have. We say “celebrity” and tabloid images pop into mind, but the people who always appear in tabloids are the ones we don’t care about. Who are the actors we really respect in terms of talent? They rarely appear in your local supermarket aisle.
MIKA’s video for “We Are Golden” premiered today on QASHAIsland. I tried to see it but they told me the video wasn’t available. Whether I see it today or tomorrow won’t matter in the long run, I told myself, which is why I’m not freaking out now.
I’ll admit, just now I snuck back to my mom’s bed and lay in its awesomeness. This sentence is all kinds of wrong.
I’ve been reading movie reviews all day, and I’ve come to the conclusion that you can never please a film critic. I have yet to read a review in which the critic really liked the movie. Ruin the movie for us by pointing out all that is wrong with it, thanks. I get that they are “critics”, but now I won’t be able to watch any movie I’ve just read about without a nagging voice in the back of my mind saying, “the plot is moving much too quickly. That performance is way too campy. This movie is too long.” Heck, even on the topic of “Persepolis” the New Yorker says, “The faces are no more than tapered ovals.” That’s the way it is in the comic, I presume.
Sometimes of course it’s true. I will admit that “Public Enemies” was distant emotion-wise. But reviews never fail to make me feel down. I get the feeling that the only good movies for them are listed on AFI’s list, no room for new additions. What happened to the joy of discovering a wonderful new movie? I would describe them as eternally unsatisfied and self-absorbed. Let’s see you make a movie, Mr. Critic.
To be honest, reading these reviews is starting to scare me away from directing. No worries, give me a few moments with my video camera and I’ll be back on track. But for now I’m freaking out about how I will keep my movies from being “flimsily staged” and “unconvincing.”
They can find fault with anything.
Love,
Grapes
Filed under: sweet dreams are made of this | Tags: Alfred Hitchcock, Arizona Dream, childish, college, dances, death, dream, dreams, fans, financial problems, friends, fun, James Dean, Jerry, Johnny Depp, limits, Miya, money, movies, old, premiere, Public Enemies, raven, reality, road trip, routine, sleep, teenage, theme parks, travel
Okay, enough with the “Alice in Wonderland” thing for right now.
Yesterday, in addition to getting a startling number of views, was the “Public Enemies” premiere. Which I had been planning to go to, but last minute Miya said she couldn’t go. There was no way my dad would let me go alone, so home I stayed. I experienced the premiere through twitter, how revolutionary and exciting. Eventually I ran around my backyard like someone who is mentally ill. My sisters found me and weren’t very comforting. Somehow this led to a game of “cops and robbers”. More like, people trying to be stealthy as they run around the house. It was fun though. Definitely took my mind off the premiere.
Why am I freaking out so much? I guess it’s left over residue from my extreme obsession, during which I also managed to miss every event, even if invited. But on top of that I don’t want to keep passing up these opportunities to see Johnny Depp (and even more than that Jerry, his cool bodyguard) until KABLAMMM they’re both gone and I’m one of those mothers who point at old movies and tell their children, “Oh look! It’s Johnny Depp! He was such a great actor!”
To which their children nod but don’t really believe. How sad.
Or, when Miya and I fulfill our lifelong dream regarding the road trip and a certain “Arizona Dream”. But that would be sad as well, befriending Johnny Depp at the end of his life to bury him in a field of corn in Arizona so he can say “This has been…my Arizona dream.” Oh well. I’m sure the opportunity will come. In any case, I really appreciate that Johnny returned to talk to both sides of the line – he really appreciates his fans.
Anyway, running around like a maniac last night was a lot of fun. That is what life should be, but of course it isn’t. Is it just a phase or am I really someone who wouldn’t be happy with a 9-5 job? Who is happy with a routine? Then again, sometimes I worry about ending up struggling for a living, because I’ve experienced – as we all are right now – financial hardship, and it is like a shackle around your foot. How am I supposed to take summer college programs when they all cost thousands of dollars? How can I experience life, when sadly, money really does make the world go round. I can take joy in small pleasures, but there are some things – like traveling and learning, that cost money.
Perhaps the worst time to not have money is when you’re a teenager. It’s the perfect time to go out and experience a bajillion things. I’ve got college looming ahead like a fatteh cliff. Everything is so optimistic and ideal, ideas pouring out of my brain. And yet I’m limited because my parents are low on money.
In addition to that, there are dances and movies and theme parks to go to with my friends, activities that don’t rank high on my priority list but they are my friends, and I do want to spend time with them.
Teenage years are the time of your life when dreams struggle against reality. Goodness, that was deep.
My sisters are pressuring me to play Clue. Sayonara, Japanese goodbye.
EDIT: Last night I had this Hitchcockian dream, which started out as a fatteh food fest. Anyway, James Dean was in it, and he was being a loner weirdo, but actually he turned out to be a creepy evil man. He called this girl and freaked her out with weird questions, and then she screamed. That scream was ungodly. Then he said something again, and she screamed again and again, but at the wrong times. That’s when I started to realize something was going wrong, and I kind of faded back to reality, when I realized it was some fatteh raven outside going “Caw caw caw caw!” Four times exactly each, and he went on like that for ten minutes. Apparently Shannon heard it in her sleep too, because she slammed her window shut. Twas weird.
Gah…have to go play Clue.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Blackberry, business, church, dream, post, soap opera, technology, writing
Ah, the wonders of technology.
This is being posted from my new Blackberry. I have the urge to post as Ernest does, because capitalization is such a hassle on this darn thing.
I’ve got a purple cover, though most people are going to tell me it’s blue. What lies. I guess there really isn’t an excuse anymore for not posting because my computer is down.
It does feel weird, however, having one if these things, because I usually associate them with business suits.
Hah. Even thus limited I manage to type out a lengthy essay. Humor me. It looks really long on this itty bitty screen. Maybe Amanda is right and I really was meant to write soap operas. Does anyone still watch those things?
I really should stop now; I’ve got church tomorrow, but before I go I’d just like to say I had a really cool dream last night.
…And now it’s gone.
Filed under: sweet dreams are made of this | Tags: acting, child abuse, dentist, dilemna, directing, dream, entertainment, giants, Jack Sparrow, movies, orchestra, shots, theater, tuberculosis
Next year is still befuddling me.
Vince, who was in Bottom Locker with me in 8th grade, came around asking us to sign his petition so that he could run for Commissioner of Spirit. Then, offhandedly, he looks at me and says, “Why aren’t you acting anymore?”
Destruction immediately ensued, and now I am in internal turmoil. How can I be in school plays if orchestra is on Mondays? And how do I fit theatre lab into my schedule? I know I’ve decided to pursue directing but that doesn’t mean I have to give up acting.
His comment also confused me. Why would someone take notice of the fact that I had been acting? Was I actually any good? Because I always felt that I sucked. Maybe it was my dad always telling me that I didn’t know how to let myself go. In fact, when I told him that I wanted to act again, he said, “but didn’t you not make it into the third Bottom Locker?” Thanks.
He’s so protective. That’s not a bad thing, but when it comes to the entertainment business you have to start. You can’t wait for things to come to you. And I want to get a head start, but he won’t let me until I’m done with college and all of that. I might get raped at an audition, and shady people are everywhere in my internships.
I can’t go on ranting about this to my friends in a whiny, “decide my life for me” voice. But I can’t go to school advisor either until I’ve sorted out my thoughts, because if I don’t they’ll inevitably ask me, “what are you asking me?” My parents would just launch me into another sitting of “I’m not trying to discourage you but the film industry sucks.”
Enough with this “you don’t know what you’re getting into” stuff. I know it’s not glamorous and I’ll probably end up a hobo! Who doesn’t wish they could look into the future and see if they’re making the right choice?
Yesterday I took six shots at the doctor’s office and now my arm hurts like it got pooped on from the inside. My unrelenting doctor made me take another TB test. Of course it’s going to show that I do have tuberculosis, because when I was little I took a TB immunization shot that will forever make me seem like I have TB.
Sometimes I hate having spent my toddler years in Taiwan, because this doctor will not believe that it is just the immunization shot. My other doctor, who is from Taiwan, understands perfectly.
Another problem for Chinese babies is that blue spot we all get on our butts when we’re little. It goes away for most as we grow older, but if some American gets a look at the blue spot, they instantly think: child abuse. And the poor fobby parents never get a chance to prove otherwise. Besides, they’re the suspects and the child is just a little kid whom no one believes. How helpless.
I had an awesome dream last night regarding rebuilding a city, giant people (okay, one of them), the evil sister of Jack Sparrow, and escaping from bullets by running with a giant box held to my back. It was epic, and only getting more epic when Angela called to ask for my dentist’s address.
Dr. Frank, why must you be everywhere?
Filed under: sweet dreams are made of this | Tags: Bandidas, Bicycle, Bleeding Love, Camelot, Christian, comps, CSI Miami, director, dream, finals, Golden books, halloween, Horatio Caine, imposter, inspiration, jazz dance, Mika, movie, Nanalan', oneliners, Penny Rose, private school, scandalous, talent, violin
Mika has updated. Huzzah. About the Golden books illustrator, no less. I found that quite huzzah since last week I posted about the Golden books illustrator imposter.
Tomorrow’s going to be an easy day. It’s the week of finals, but I have French and PE tomorrow. And French I’m prepared for (see yesterday’s slightly awkward post), dance I’m prepared too. To do my penguin jazz dance of DOOOOOM.
I’m not kidding. Why else would it be choreographed to “Bleeding Love”. Thank you, Ms. Flowers, for that subtle hint.
It was stealthy.
They should seal us in while we do our skills test. Quick! Cover up those skylights!
Whitney Blind Wildcats, more like.
What have I been up to…nothing. Our English video, as it turns out, sucked. Well, only Alex and some other people have seen it, but he said it was confusing!!!!! NOOOOO.
Here’s how I feel: my future as a director has been shot down. I should have stuck to violining. At least there I had some natural talent. Which was thrown away when I was nine.
Whatever, I’ll probably get all happy about directing again.
By the way, “Bandidas” is a scandalous/slightly bad good movie.
Also, why do I keep writing one liners? It’s like that guy on CSI Miami with the red hair and cheesy sunglasses who says stupid oneliners even though he’s just a policeman.
Cheesy policeman: Chuck. Check the gate.
No wait, that’s Penny Rose.
Cheesy policeman: When you have everything, sometimes it feels like nothing.
I’m not joking, it’s a quote. Heck, regarde the tagline. “I’m Horatio Caine, and this much I know. At CSI Miami we never Close.”
“Tomorrow’s what you make of it.”
“In the future, if you’re gonna watch somebody’s back, let me know about it so I can watch yours.”
“Justice is not yours to dispense, and now you’re going to pay for it.”
“The next time you want to take a swing at someone, start with me.”
Horatio Caine: The rumour of a dirty cop is far juicier than its confirmation.
Robert Keaton: You just called your own brother a dirty cop.
Horatio Caine: Maybe he was, but he didn’t deserve to die.
Robert Keaton: We all have to die some time.
Horatio Caine: Some sooner than others
By the way, I’m talking about Horatio Caine. Gosh, what a name.
“Whatever that bill says, you will still have to pay.”
He says it in a oneliner way too. I love watching that show because he’s hilarious. My dad hates it. Kind of like “Nanalan’”, but not awesome like Nanalan’. Today I saw a clip of Mona learning to ride a bike and she’s only three. Sushi has nothing compared to Mona.
I’m also very excited about my birthday.
Back to my original topic. Tomorrow’s a stressfree day, but I know that going through tomorrow unleashes hell week, basically. Fun. Oh joy.
I feel so uninspired. Did I tell you about the dream where I read Camelot to an old lady? And then last night my friends and I went to Disneyland but it was still in Halloween decor. There was a guy who grew cauliflowerish things that attach to people who worry. Apparently he was worry-free. Reminds me of that book my kindergarten teacher read to us that was stealthily obviously Christian. Then again, I went to a Christian private school until 2nd grade.
Wow this post sucked.
Filed under: sweet dreams are made of this | Tags: buffalo, cesar chavez, confidence, cookies, dream, family life, floral armchair, italian, king, little italian boy, menstruation, Mika, Miya, period, queen, sex, sex ed, squid, stealthy
My sister’s in sixth grade, the year when they go in depth into “Family Life”.
Why do they call it that? What does “family life” even mean?!?!?! What they teach you in that class is about your period, and…dun dun DUUUUUUUUNNNNN. Sex.
Gosh I’m immature. But I think they should rename it, because your period has nothing to do with family life. I’m still trying to come up with a definition for “family life”. I don’t know what it means! All I keep seeing is a nuclear family sitting around a fireplace, the dad smoking a pipe. Menstruation has nothing to do with that.
And who came up with the idea to put “Have a happy period!” on pads? It’s like it’s mocking you. They should die.
Moving on. Yesterday night (not last night) I dreamed I became a buffalo. I know I’ve gone on and on about this at school but it’s a freaking weird dream! First I was a girl, then I met a buffalo and his herd – he was like, king of the herd of buffali. (I know it’s buffalo – silence!) And he asked me to be his buffalo queen. At this point I sort of want to die. But my subconscious apparently would rather do anything than die. Such as become buffalo queen. So he asked one of the buffalo to take off their buffalo jacket (don’t ask – I’m not so sure either) and I put it on. The buffalo then turned into a girl and I turned into a buffalo. Huzzah?
So then the buffalo king was like, “Hey, why don’t you take a walk through my people?” Excuse me, buffalo. Except he was slightly strangely pompous so he probably said “My queen, why don’t you take a promenade through my subjects?”
Side note: The placement of adverbs is oh so important. For example, if I had written “strangely slightly pompous” it would mean something different from “slightly strangely pompous”. Which is why I changed it.
Grammar lesson over. So I took a walk through the buffalo subjects, who were huzzah-ing over a visit from their new queen (I guess I get my self-esteem boosts from my dreams) I walked up to them and (well first I galloped around for fun – you can’t believe how much fun it is to gallop as a buffalo.) they parted like the Red Sea for Moses. And as I walked through them, they were like, “Oh, you are so great” or whatever. Like I said, confidence boost. And then I got really sick of being a buffalo but I knew I couldn’t change back.
Whatever. That was the night before. Last night I dreamed this horror story/tragedy about a little Italian boy. Bad stuff kept happening to him, and his dad looked like Cesar Chavez and kept spouting bits of wisdom like, “It is more worthwhile to repair boats.” They ate cookies though, but the cookies always got ruined before they could eat them. Like I said, bad stuff kept happening.
I’ve realized that I want one of those hideous floral armchairs. The ones they take material off of to make fob pants. Not really but sometimes it seems like it.
And. Mika’s blog has been updated since I last went there so huzzah!!! We had a good time flashing people with Miya’s MIKA shirt today. I admit, she only flashed me. But still. Blah on the outside, JFKLsdjweicjawklc on the inside is tres huzzah.
PS. stealthy.
made by Hine Mizushi
