Filed under: Happiness is a Warm Gun | Tags: Pirates of the Caribbean, Jack Sparrow, fanfiction, books, park, dad, men, chick flicks, parties, high-speed Internet, Pirate English facebook, toilets, The Motorcycle Diaries, feeding ducks, little boys, Rob Kidd, Pride and Prejudice, Mr. Darcy, Julie and Julia, 500 Days of Summer
Happy happy birthday, la la la la laaaaaa. How exciting. The next party is someone’s wedding, and I can’t wait for that, as long as I can avoid the dance floor and I get a new dress. 
I know, it’s Monday and happiness is supposed to come to you on Sundays. I won’t tell if you don’t.
1. Parties. Now that I’ve tasted heaven I’m never going back. It wasn’t the food or the games or the decorations, although those helped. As cheesy as it sounds, my buddies made it the best birthday ever. The fact that they actually participated in my silly activities was enough to put a grin on my face. I was so worried we’d act like teenagers but we were children for one afternoon.
2. High-speed Internet. How I’ve missed you.
3. Pirate English facebook. Every time I sign in I’m greeted with the worst, cheesiest pirate slang ever. And I smile every time. Ye Olde Facebook brings a smile to my face. The best is when I forget about it and am completely surprised.
4. The Motorcycle Diaries. What a pleasant surprise. I remember when they won an Oscar for Best Original Song, and I was like…when is this performance over. Movie’s great though.
5. Toilets. I just had a moment of appreciation this week when I realized what life would be like if we had to scoop our own poop. Blarrrggghhh.
6. This morning as my mom and I were driving to check out some apartments we saw a dad and his two sons crossing the street to Regional Park. It was so cute because the older son who was like six or younger was holding a bag of bread to feed the ducks. Because Regional Park is a duck harem, we all know that. Old people like to go there to feed them, and Mexican families. Asian families are not fond of feeding ducks. I wish we were. Whell the father and sons were white, but the dad was carrying his little son, like where the kid sits on your arm…? And the little boy had blonde hair and his older brother had auburnish so my mom was like, talking about genetics…and I was just going, “awwwwwwwwwwwwww.” Okay I’ll admit to talking about genetics too. I said, “He must have a recessive gene.”
7. Talks with my mom where we complain about men. I never thought this day would come. We also watch chick flicks now. I keep suppressing the urge to ask her if she wants to see “Julie and Julia” or “500 Days of Summer” with the two tickets I got for my birthday. But I must save them. And I actually don’t really want to see “Julie and Julia”. Last night we watched “Pride and Prejudice”. And I finally understood the symbolism behind Mr. Darcy walking to Elizabeth’s house at the end. I’m too slow.
This was one happy week, but the explosion of the party made all the other little things fly out of my mind. I’m struggling to gather them back, so there’s only seven this week.
On a horrifying note, there is fanfiction for the Jack Sparrow book series by Rob Kidd. Blarklrewkrjwe. At least its not polluting the movie fanfiction section. Although sometimes it seeps in and I shun. No one needs to know Jack Sparrow’s past, and I don’t consider the series canon.
Filed under: gift guides | Tags: Anusha, Arizona Dream, barbecue, Barbossa, camera, Cameron, computer, Danny Boyle, Deep Roy, Geoffrey Rush, gift card, gifts, ipod screen, Johnny Depp, Mary-Sue, Mika, movie tickets, Pirates of the Caribbean, Pointy Chin Club, road trip, Sean Connery, Shakespearean troupe, Shel Silverstein, sunglasses, tripod
Since I take the time to construct a list of things I would get people if I weren’t lazy/broke, I thought I might as well returrrn the favor. Damn it, Barbossa. Get back where you came from.
Wait. Take me with you! I long to be a Mary-Sue.
Although most of my gift guides are in jest, this one is full of the things I really want. Okay, with a few jests. But since my birthday party has come and gone (more on that later), I’ve gotten all the presents I’m likely to get this year. A gift card and two movie tickets. How creative we are these days. Hush, it’s the thought that counts, right? Well maybe I should get richer friends. Just kidding. Although that is the spirit of these gift guides.
No pictures this time because I have a stone-age computer.
1. camera. A good one, that I can mess around with. Photography, not video.
2. tripod. So that my video camera can be propped up without the use of a mountain of books.
3. a new ipod screen, because I sat on mine and the internal screen broke. 
I see only static. I can’t even maneuver it to be visible anymore.
4. a road trip. If only we could all drop everything and cross the country in a hippie bus. Fine, even an ugly modern RV would be fine. Probably more comfortable too.
5. A Shakespearean troupe. What? Twelve actors, at my disposal and completely dedicated to my project? White actors to appeal to the masses? Because all I’ve ever worked with are Asian teenagers. Not appealing at all.
6. Arizona Dream. I bow to you, whoever gets me this.
7. My barbecue. This would be even greater than “Arizona Dream”. Oh, to have Johnny Depp, MIKA, Geoffrey Rush, Anusha, Danny Boyle, Deep Roy, Shel Silverstein, and Sean Connery, among others, gathered in my backyard gnawing on ribs. And to have the Pointy Chin Club watching from their glass display cases. Cameron, no using your chin to cut a hole into the glass. I don’t care if you can’t breath in there! Eat your chin!
8. A new computer. This one might actually come true. And I canst wait.
How great it is to finally have Johnny Depp sunglasses off this list.
The next gift guide that I am aware of is Amanda’s, in November. Hang in there. Although a back-to-school one sounds good too.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Ernest, Pirates of the Caribbean, Johnny Depp, Arizona Dream, library, movie, Vincent Gallo, Emir Kusturica, film, bugs, Lilli Taylor, grumpy, bad day, common sense, Iron Man, comic books, Persepolis, Robert Downey Jr., road trips, favorite movie, Faye Dunaway, Jerry Lewis
July 29, 2009
Dear reader,
It started yesterday night, and I had a sneaking suspicion it would follow me to today. I was right. Last night I struggled with last-minute cramming for my psychology exam today, and as the night wore on I grew increasingly frustrated.
Sometimes the more tired you are the more restless you are. I was jittery, my eyelids were twitching, and I couldn’t stop shaking my leg. Not that I couldn’t, but if I had stopped I would have been even grumpier.
Even when I get emotional there’s a part of me that stands back and talks sense. It’s weird, but it’s there, like a mini-psychologist or some other scientific/analytical presence. I’m sure you there’s a definition for that but I don’t really want one. Occasionally ignorance is bliss.
After our exam we were let out an hour early. I had to wait for my ride, who didn’t get out of class until 10. My phone was low on batteries (it’s been acting up lately) and all my friends had gone home. Here I am, sitting alone at a community college. Joy to the world.
Finally, at 10:14, he calls to tell me his car broke down. My mother is not picking up her phone. I sit until 11:44, when one of my mom’s coworkers comes to pick me up. All this with a ticking time bomb of a cell phone.
I didn’t want to write about this, because I didn’t want to label today as a bad day. There’s still half the day left. Things can get better. But I thought, bad days don’t happen too often anymore. This calls for some recognition.
Oh yeah, Miya was supposed to come over but she couldn’t. And while I was waiting for a ride I stabbed my palm with a pencil. It bled, and I clutched it, pretending to have paid the blood payment for the Curse of the Black Pearl. I know. Indulge me.
I watched “Iron Man” yesterday. I know I’m late. Eh, it didn’t really live up to the hype, but it was okay. Because I’d seen the Batman movie first, I kept drawing parallels. That aside, comic plots are often too similar.
Tonight I’m going to watch “Persepolis”. Apparently I’m the first person to borrow it from the library. Borrowing movies from the library is hip, okay? Especially if it’s the Cerritos Library, because you can stop by the Children’s Section and marvel at how awesome they made it. T-Rex anyone? Giant aquarium? Lighthouse? Rainforest? Hogwarts Ceilings? CHECK.
I like the Old World section though, if that’s what it’s called. They made it seem like the library of an English gentleman. Big armchairs and a lot of wood. If I’m not mistaken, even banker’s lamps. I’d have loved to have gone shopping for the Cerritos Library.
Enough fantasizing about the library. “Persepolis”. I’m excited to see it, except that today might not be the day for Persepolis. I feel like watching…”Iron Man”, frankly, but I’m not going to watch it again. Robert Downey Jr. has always reminded me of Johnny Depp. Sometimes when I don’t have my glasses on I do a double take.
Something’s been keen on sucking my leg blood. Taiwan has mosquitos. I didn’t stay in America to get bitten.
I was thinking about impromptu road trips. They are suddenly less intimidating. You’d just travel from hotel to hotel. One day.
Let’s talk about favorites. I was so excited when I realized I had a favorite movie. At the time it was PotC, of course. I wanted to go back and fill out all the surveys I had taken before I had had a favorite movie, as if to scream out, “I love something more than everything else!”
So. What’s your favorite movie and why? I’ll go:
My favorite movie is “Arizona Dream”, a 1993 movie directed by Serbian director Emir Kusturica that wasn’t released in the U.S. because it was too weird. How then, did I discover this gem? First, it stars Johnny Depp. Second, I was very dedicated to my obsessions. Third, Youtube was created.
Every synopsis you will find on the Internet is wrong. They interpret Paul (Vincent Gallo) as Axel’s (Johnny Depp) brother, or some other fallacy, when in fact who Paul is is not important at all. And it’s pretty clear they’re not brothers, just close friends. It would be better to watch it for yourself, and don’t be intimidated by the Alaskan opening sequence. Yes, you have the right movie – the camera will migrate to Arizona soon enough.
What I love about it is how complex it is, and with complexity comes multiple viewings. Not that you won’t understand it with one viewing, but layers and layers will be revealed each time you watch. Take, for example, the mariachis at the end of the film. Did you see them wandering the streets of the town in the beginning, before they were even introduced? I like how it uses fantasy elements without making it “part of their imagination”. I like the irrelevance that ultimately builds up to a heart-rendering ending. Why mariachis, for example? And yet they lend to the atmosphere.
Because life is not full of symbolism, there are things wandering about for no reason at all, which makes this film seem even more plausible. We’re so used to seeing dysfunction on screen in the typical “dysfunctional family”. This movie is dysfunction without “dysfunction”. It’s not “The Royal Tenenbaums” (which I want to see). This film cannot be explained, and what I love about it cannot be explained, but I think that’s part of its beauty. And all of this is without even mentioning the acting. Jerry Lewis, Faye Dunaway, Vincent Gallo, Johnny Depp, Lilli Taylor? All excellent here.
If you took nothing away from that, at least read this: There are flying machines. There are mariachis, gut balloons, flying fish, and Johnny Depp. Go see it on Youtube. Or on tape, if you’re in Europe. I look forward to seeing more of Kusturica’s work.
One of the best presents I could get would be this movie. Hint hint. Of course it’s not available in the US. And it’s only on VHS. No matter, I’ll accept even that.
Love,
Grapes
P.S. Apparently Ernest is a bad-boy name and naming your child that contributes to a higher chance of landing in jail. I don’t think we’ll have that problem with our little paper bag.
P.P.S. I sound mentally ill in the above statement. Remember, mini-psychologist. At least part of my head’s still clear.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: blog, decision, grapes, Jack Sparrow, Johnny Depp, Katherine, Kevin McNally, letter, Mr. Gibbs, Pirates of the Caribbean, proposition
Hey guys – there is a dilemna.
I really like the letter format from the previous post. Plus, I’ve never like the name of this blog. I started this only less than a year ago, but you know how it is when you can’t think of a screenname. On top of that, I’ve changed a lot in this less-than-a-year. Some aspects of the personality of this blog no longer apply. So, I have a proposition.
“The man who did the waking buys the man who was sleeping a drink. The man who was sleeping drinks it while listening to a proposition made by the man who did the waking, savvy?” That’s much shorter when not spewed from the mouth of Jack Sparrow. In any case, repeat after me: Aye, that’ll about do it. Hmm. I suspect Mr. Gibbs to secretly be a Canadian, from the way he says “about”.
I propose that I move this to a new blog. I’m still deciding whether to move everything or to start anew and leave this one. The one thing I’m worried about is losing the number of views I’ve already collected.
The new blog would be called Letters From Katherine and would continue with the letter format.
There. I’ve said it. I feel better for it. Reference. There’s my name blatantly for the world to see. I’m worried that this will be a decision I’ll regret, but then again isn’t that a part of every decision-making process?
Let’s be honest though. Letters From Grapes just doesn’t have that charm.
Thoughts? I’m still thinking it through. For now I’ll keep trying the letter thing, and we’ll see how it works out.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: La Poo Poo, Ernest, Pirates of the Caribbean, Johnny Depp, Arizona Dream, Mika, movies, costume, references, summer, mom, directing, psychology, screenplay, SAT, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, Julian Schnabel, Before Night Falls, Lieutenant Victor, Bon Bon, creativity, Trader Joe's, dragon, dragon lady, We Are Golden
Oh what fun it is to scan SAT practice tests onto my computer and try to write a screenplay, hey! Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg. That has always irritated me. Whatever, it’s what I’m doing right now – scanning SAT practice tests and working on my first feature-length screenplay. I read it today and realized how much I relied on dialogue. No! Not good! Stop! Not good! You’re burning all the food, the shade, the rum!
To expand on my praise for “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” yesterday, I would just like to say this. Julian Schnabel, I must watch more of your movies. For many reasons not limited to because Johnny Depp dresses like a woman in “Before Night Falls” and also plays Lieutenant Victor. What a nasty man is Lieutenant Victor.
If I get any of this wrong, please don’t tar and feather me. It’s been a while since I maintained my library of Johnny Depp trivia and my computer is in no state for me to check it quickly. I can imagine the neurons devoted to Johnny Depp trivia in my brain (if there is such a thing – which would be kind of sad) dying one by one from lack of use. Ah psych 101. The things you teach me. Like endorphins, which made me do the Drew Barrymore Syndrome in class. I hope no one saw that.
“Gives one the feeling of being in love.” “You don’t say…”
It’s the little things in life that make us smile. Like Johnny Depp references. And eating a whole bag of kettle corn before you realize that you’ve eaten a whole bag and emptied the equivalent of a gallon of sugar into your system.
While in the bathroom, I thought back to the moment I realized that I wanted to be a director. 11-years-old, creating a tour of Mesopotamia video for school. We didn’t have the money or the means to create an actual ziggurat, so we printed a picture out and moved our camera toward it. To simulate a long journey, we filmed back and forth on the same seven-foot stretch of hedge, with my friend’s little brother panting behind the camera for sound effects. It was impulsive thinking, it was creative, because we didn’t have anything.
Watching the extra features on “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly”, they did the same thing – but more sophisticated. A good use of camera angles and colors excited me more than a good story. It felt like finally, this was art. As I’ve mentioned, “Arizona Dream” felt similar to this, as did “Across the Universe”.
The summer has taken a turn for the better. Tomorrow Miya and Nobu are coming over for an 80’s movie marathon, and by the looks of it Club Retrospect has been approved. Huzzah!
Sorry for the lack of Ernest & La Poo Poo updates. It’s been difficult for me to even find time for my own blog, I’ll really try to find time for theirs but I can’t promise anything.
My mom and I have been hanging out because really, there’s no other option. But it’s fun when there are only two of you because you’re more free to make your own plans. I could never have my friends over if my dad was home, and especially if the house had not stayed somewhat clean. Which it wouldn’t have if my sisters were home.
I can’t wait for tomorrow, and I can’t wait to go to Trader Joe’s today and find more awesome possible birthday foods. Mostly, I can’t wait to fail my first psych test and realize that maybe I should study.
I just realized that “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” has unseated PotC as my second-favorite movie. To be honest, PotC wasn’t my second-favorite, it was only there as an obligation to acknowledge how prevalent it’s been in my life. I could never bring myself to put something before it on a list besides “Arizona Dream”, though. Congrats. I think I’ll watch PotC now…while no one’s home.
I’m busy working on the dragon costume anyway. Oh yeah, I went to Halloween Club and asked for a dragon costume. They showed me a dragon lady costume. I know it’s nothing, they were just trying to help me out and showing me their only options, but it’s sort of funny. In a racial way…and yet…whatever. It’s just…funny. I can’t explain it.
Costume-making isn’t so bad. It’s nice to have something you’re working toward. A goal, I guess, but not necessarily. This stop-motion keeps me optimistic that this summer will not go to waste.
In other news, MIKA’s new single is called “We Are Golden”. Huzzah.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: angry asian man, books, bus, camera, camping, Canada, celebrity, Edward Scissorhands, feature film, fevers, French, friends, fun, funeral, garden party, grades, Harry Potter, idealism, Jack Kerouac, jacket, Johnny Depp, knight, love, Medieval Times, movies, nature, optimism, parents, Pirates of the Caribbean, schedule, sisters, stress, suburbs, summer, Taiwan, talent, The Perfect Storm, The Road, Tim Burton, trip
My brain feels like it’s being wrenched inside my skull. Why is the end of the school year such a rush?
I love my parents. Of course as I grow older I start disagreeing with them on many things, but whether that is just a phase of life or a permanent thing is yet to be seen. I say “old and bitter” because that’s what it seems like, sadly. Maybe when I was little I just wore rose-colored glasses, but I do think they were happier than they are now. As a young person I’m full of optimism and all of that, so I’m determined to be happy. Get back to me in fifteen years and we’ll see.
MUSIC – I get the feeling you just turned fifteen. I’m a bit ahead of you, but if you want to round almost an entire year, then yes, we are currently the same number. My sixteenth birthday’s in August. Holy god, I’m more than halfway to thirty.
Remember when I was going on about how I wanted to do everything in the world? It’s too much now, because I’m trying to cram all these experiences into the next few years. Starting a new club about making life an adventure in a school where everyone is mainly focused on academics is not very encouraging. This club thing is such a dilemna – because I feel like it’s too broad. I wonder if it will succeed. But then I get the feeling that if you keep worrying and bringing up possible obstacles you’ll never even start the project.
I’d love to take a camera and go on a trip by foot throughout the city with my friends, just taking pictures.
And right now I’d even just love to kick back in a bus and take a cross-country road trip.
I think what I need now is a trip somewhere away from the city, preferably with some buddies. But I doubt that’s happening – this is not a city of teenagers who spontaneously visit a forest together. Too many safety regulations. I’d like to see what a world without so many safety regulations would be like – where people could camp at the beach without worrying about security guards telling them to move because they’ll get swept away. And if they do get swept away, so be it. Makes for more dramatic stories. There’s a reason people avoid watching “The Perfect Storm”.
PS. I know that that would be anarchy, but allow me my idealism for this moment.
All this daydreaming has made me slack off in school too. My chem grade just slipped with this last test down to a B. That means I have to get an A on the comp to bring my grade back up, which means studying hard this week. I’m resisting so much right now – but I really don’t have much choice.
I’ve also decided that I’d love a garden lunch for my birthday – if not the entire party. The more I look at it the more my backyard, however small, looks beautiful. Maybe it’s because it’s the closest to free space I’m going to get from this computer. I’ve never spent so much time staring out the window…well, maybe at my old house. But all I saw there was a wall, a tree, my Indian neighbor’s house, and occasionally a bird. I remember I saw a bluejay once, and I wrote a poem about it. Or was it a squirrel?
I do love Cerritos, it’s full of people who are different from any you would find outside, and they really take care to keep this city looking nice. It’s partially a mix of all the old white people who like to wash their vintage cars thrice a day and the Asians who wouldn’t really mess with the city for no reason. It’s an ideal suburb – but that’s exactly what’s wrong with it too. I’m pretty sure Tim Burton lived in a place like this, because he retaliated with “Edward Scissorhands”.
Sometimes I think that talented people are so modest because they really think they’re nothing special, not because it’s an act. I completely understand their denial, because people rave about my writing and I don’t see what’s so special about it. The other day my church buddy told me she was really impressed with my “Angry Asian Man” screenplay – that she had been surprised, especially since I was a fifteen-year-old who hadn’t had much exposure to scripts. I had handed to her the worst draft of “Angry Asian Man” – the one I wrote in a day because all I had was the story to get down. I was embarassed of it and determined it would never see the light of day.
If you don’t think your work is much, sometimes it is better than you think. Especially with writing and such, if you grow up like that, you never think twice about it until you see everyone else’s work. There’s always doubt, is what someone told me. And it’s true but I hate it. Although, I do think it makes for better work.
I need a good jacket – not a hoody, although that would also be nice. Maybe I should return that $30 outfit from Forever 21 and invest in some good basics.
I’ve been reinspired to write. I’m currently in the middle of my first feature-length. I don’t want to spill much, but it includes celebrity, old love, and a funeral. Sound intriguing? Old love does not mean lost love, by the way, because lost implies that they still wanted it to go on. I’m hoping that in the flashbacks the hazy polaroid-reminiscent small town feel will be captured. I’m excited for this one and I really want the script to turn out well. Who doesn’t want their screenplay to turn out well, but this one in particular. It could just be the excitement of beginning a new story. We’ll see.
I’ve also been wanting to read The Road by Jack Kerouac. Yes, yet again inspired by Johnny Depp – but it’s my own interest now. It has to be if I’m to attempt such a fat book. I haven’t read anything that thick since Harry Potter. I don’t know how I’m going to do all this though – there are only so many hours in the day, and I’m planning to get my sleeping schedule ready for next year. That means bed ideally by 9 PM and up at 6:30 AM. I have an extra class next year in the morning and I’m not looking forward to the stress of next year. Can I handle a club on top of that, and possibly work?
Who wants to go camping in my backyard? I have such summerlust right now. I hope that’s not a double entendre. Goodness, tomorrow is crazy Tuesday. Thank God. I need the break.
So, summer, now my favorite time of year. Where are you?
What are your plans? I’m hoping to plunk down with some good books and movies, go out frolicking with buddies, and make some good stuff.
Looking at some of my old Word files, it still amazes me how far I’ve come from full-on PotC fan. Yeah, I still usually know Johnny Depp’s whereabouts, but I can stand on my own now, if that makes sense. If you were to pull PotC out from under me, I wouldn’t fall over. Huzzah.
I feel like going on and on. Permit me, s’il vous plait.
That will never be a jumble of words that mean “please” anymore. It will forever be “if it pleases you (polite)”. I love French class and I hope Madame gets better.
I’d love to go rollerblading at this time of day, when it’s pitch black outside. I’d have flashing neon lights on my rollerblades and annoy the heck out of everyone like the fatteh Mexican on the dune buggy who revs by my house twice within five minutes. I wonder if I’ve lost readers because of the replacement of sarcasm by wishful thinking. I wonder if I ever had readers to begin with. Fatteh lurkers. Can’t say anything though, I am one.
Whell. My sister went to Medievel Times today. Good for her, that she went and devoured chicken like a fatteh while watching fake knights prance about below. Like in our time, some of her classmates fell in love with the knight. I think the same colored one too. I must confess, I did secretly scrutinize him as well, but he fell far short of my liking. Huzzah, because there’s no use for an eleven-year-old lusting after some old man who prances about in a green tunic on a horse who spends most of its time behind a glass window.
And both of them have fevers, which means double hand-washing for me. Hopefully they recover soon. I think Jocelyn’s okay now. When did I start referring to them by name instead of my sister and “my younger younger sister”? I wish I had somewhere to go this summer, like back to Taiwan or Canada. I say back because even though I wasn’t born there it’s still a little bit like home. I wonder if my children will feel the same?
That’s it for tonight. I’ll keep on daydreaming but I’ll keep it to myself for the rest of the night. Huzzah, see you later alligator.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: believe, classical, Doubt, extraordinary, fandom, fansites, happiness, Johnny Depp, life, movies, music, nature, organic, past, Pirates of the Caribbean, prodigy, regret, violin, violinist
I’ve just returned from the spring concert – which answers the question of whether or not I play music. By asking this question, you unleash a long and tragic - only to me – backstory.
Before I was four years old, I started learning to play the piano from the daughter of my parents’ friends. She introduced me to her violin teacher, who decided to take me under his wing, so to speak. Before I go on, I’d really appreciate if you would stow all cynicism under your seat.
I’ll start by saying that when I returned, he told me I had been his favorite student.
I started learning violin when I was four-years-old. My Russian teacher put a lot of effort into me, because he knew I had an excellent ear. Thanks to him, I built up quality sound and technique. The only flaw really was that I had yet to learn music theory. I played by ear. I was, as many people have taken it upon themselves to sarcastically put it, a prodigy of sorts.
Like any young violinist, I hated practicing. Playing made me itch and have to go to the bathroom. My mother, believing in me, ran after me with a clothes hanger, trying various techniques of motivating me to play. She made me play in the kitchen, where I could time my three hours a day practice time with the microwave and my one minute bathroom breaks.
By the time I was nine, my life had been filled with arguments where my parents threatened to stop my lessons, and I would cry. Of course I knew I had talent, and I wasn’t going to let that go, even if I hated violin. One summer my parents decided I should take a break and return in the fall. That break lasted for four years.
Until I was thirteen, I always thought it was my fault, because I had hated practicing. Later I learned that it was also financial.
We finally called him two years ago, and by that time he had moved out of his private lessons in his home and set up a music school. He basically ran the school, taking in only young children with a lot of potential, and everyone else went to other teachers that taught at the school.
He said that he had waited a year for me to return. I know, sounds like a cheesy love story, but bear with me. It’s almost over. It was a waste, because he would have taught me for free, he thought I had that much potential. I always felt a pressure to include musician on my list of possible careers, and frankly that pressure has not gone away. The only difference is that the pressure comes from myself now.
But now he wouldn’t take me as a student because it was too late – I was too old. For two years I was taught by an Armenian teacher, a woman. She was emotional but it’s nice that I learned from a different aspect.
Again, my parents said we were taking a break so we could go to my grandma’s funeral. I haven’t returned from that break. Sometimes I’d like to take things into my own hands and call my teacher. But I no longer have anything to bargain with. She wouldn’t take me back for free now.
Whenever I tell people about violin, they scoff and laugh at how highly I think of myself. I’m not someone who would ever think highly of myself until I know that I am what I say I am. I doubt it every day, I doubt whether I remember my childhood wrong. Once I quit six years ago, I relegated myself to the ranks of average people. People who play violin as a side hobby. I was trained to become a soloist, really.
The thing that bothers me is that no one ever believes me. They say they understand, but always with a pinch of mockery. Just because I’m your friend, because I’m a normal human being, that I’m tangibly here, doesn’t mean that I have to be normal. I think everyone’s hiding something extraordinary in their past. Or in their future. Everything spectacular starts small. Why is it so impossible that your classmate, your friend, was a prodigy, once?
All that “Just believe” stuff makes me want to puke too, but I can’t help but think that it is true, we just don’t acknowledge it.
That’s part of what makes me so determined to stick with violin – because people don’t believe. But time is running out because I keep getting older. Soon playing well will be nothing extraordinary.
Today TheRealFatteh was talking to me at the concert, and she was praising her freshman friend. I heard these words come out of her mouth, “He’s really good, better than y-”. I was looking at her somewhat intensely then, because I knew what she was going to say. She met my eyes and abruptly changed the sentence. “The only people ahead of him are seniors. That’s really amazing.”
I haven’t come to terms with violin yet. I sort of hope I never do. But now my life has expanded so much – to film, church, and just plain happiness and pretty things. I really wish I had had the interest and love for violin I have now, and that my parents had been able to support me financially. But that’s in the past – I can’t always be wallowing in regret.
In other news, I sense that our respective sides of the fandom argument are sprouting from personal preference. I know that as a PotC fan I always wanted to defend PotC, no matter how ridiculous. I wasn’t the only one. I’m going to leave the argument here, although I do recommend that for some of the most courteous intelligent fans I have yet to come across, find a good Johnny Depp fansite. A good, really informative one. Usually the good ones have their own domain names.
I should really start homework now. Today will probably be an all-nighter. Depressing, because my eyelids are already drooping. I can’t believe that just two hours ago I was playing with orchestra onstage. It’s surreal, the stage.
I love the organic things in life – music and nature, for example. Movies make me happy, but nothing really compares to the instinctive, primitive happiness that comes from playing music.
I’ll admit, I am somewhat of a music snob when it comes to my instrument. I’ve mainly learned classical all my life, but occasionally I play PotC or some song by ear. Classical will always be much more fun to play.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: AP Human Geography, beautiful, Casablanca, Charlie Chaplin, Cherry Blossom Festival, Christina Aguilera, clark gable, Dr. Frank, fatteh, Gone With the Wind, Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, Marlon Brando, Miya, Modern Times, Pirates of the Caribbean, Sao Feng, Sayonara, school, stealthy, The Godfather
Psst. Guess where I am?
Huzzah! I am at school and this is not my phone.
It’s cooler than it sounds. We hide in the corner under the watchful eye of “Il Padrino” and Charlie Chaplin. And Ingrid Bergman, looking over Humphrey Bogart’s shoulder. Can I please steal some of these movie posters? Ugh. On the far wall is “Gone With the Wind”.
Dr. Frank strikes again! Go away, fatteh. Good god, why are you everywhere?
Miya thinks she’s beautiful, but it’s okay because she’s looking through a funhouse mirror. Teehee. “I am beautiful!” Whatever. Christina Aguilera thought the same thing, and so did millions of fattehs sitting in the corner listening to her single, maybe even singing along.
I have nothing to talk about. Hence the moment of cruelty, but only because Miya is sitting next to me looking up Cherry Blossom Festival 09 for AP Human and she continues to insist she’s easy on the eyes.
“So. You admit. You have deceived me. Weapons!” I’m really bored. Sayonara, Japanese goodbye. Unfortunately “Sayonara” is not one of the movies on the wall in this media lab. Not that I’d want to have it up.
