Saturday, May 22, 2004

sleepy afternoon

so the years spin by and now the girl is twenty
though her dreams have lost some grandeur coming true
there’ll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty
before the last revolving year is through

I'm really emotional today. Not just because of the turning twenty thing, either. It's coupled with the change of weather, the packing, the gifts, the people.

Since I finished writing in the journal that Victoria gave me for Christmas awhile back, I've stopped writing in real journals and instead writing more emails, with even more random thoughts than usual. I regret not recording the gap between then and now in one spot, in a notebook or somewhere, because so much has passed and changed, inevitably, but so much more than is obvious through a retelling of plot or even a recollection of feeling.

It hasn't happened too often recently, but beginning in January or so I began waking up in the mornings really uncertain and anxious--of what, I'm not entirely sure. Of my future, that vagueness that has never much plagued me before. Of myself, something I've alternately given too little thought and too much. Of what it is that I want to give to and receive from life, things I've always seemed sure of, at least in retrospect and at the very least in the abstract. If even the concept has blurred, what kind of concrete does that leave me to walk on?

Remember Big Fish last semester? Sometimes I worry that the world is the big fish and I'm the too small ocean.

Nothing is better than listening to music that has been personalized, through experience, memory or character. I feel incredibly lucky that I have things like that to list under the "certainty" category. Because by nighttime, I've convinced myself that things will be all right. I still wake up uncertain again the next morning, but I never foresee that during the comfort of nighttime. When I write these things, I feel sure--not blindly optimistic (one of the misperceptions I hate the most). My brother Stephen thinks that sadness is more complex than happiness, the whole idea of all happy families being the same and all unhappy families being unhappy in their own way. But when I think about those mornings versus those nights, I can't imagine anything being more complicated than simple contentment.

Monday, May 17, 2004

yet another birthday

Today my youngest brother Binh turns 26. I took this picture of him during Christmas, when we were getting ready for our first family studio photograph in which every member is present. He completely freaked my mom out because he dressed up in that bright blue suit, hat and sunglasses. Any other person except my mom would know that he was only kidding, but she really thought he was going to wear the outfit for the pictures. She was especially paranoid because he didn't even come the year before which is why we had to take them again this year. But more on that fiasco another time.

My brother: has the best dimples, loves the Wonder Years as much as I do, is the designated troublemaker, cooks really well but practically never does, likes teen chick flicks like A Walk to Remember and Sweet November, gives good gifts, picked on me incessantly when we were younger, is now nicer to me, gets angry really quickly like everyone else in our family, and is six years and five days older than me.

An aside: I love taking the M2 on beautiful days like these. Passed by City Hall--bright colors and happy people scattered on the steps. Yes for Massachusetts making history. Passed over the Charles--the river was so blue, the skyline so clear. The month of May is so good to me.

Saturday, May 15, 2004

amy's birthday

Note: Not that I'm giving away any plot of the Iliad you don't already know but if you don't want to know how the movie changed it (there are some pretty big surprises), don't read further.

I liked Troy about as much as I predicted I would when I first read about it. I've been really excited about it for a long time, but not because I expected it to be a really amazing film, which it wasn't. The stories are always exciting, no matter how badly portrayed on screen. Ulysses and Helen of Troy? Horrible movies but I watched them anyway. And Troy was far from a horrible movie. My two cents are not here to try to change anyone's mind; that's unlikely and not very interesting. I've heard so many different opinions and it's always fun to have more to say about a movie than a general agreement of it being good or bad.

First of all, the plot changes don’t warrant an automatic criticism of the movie. I think adaptations in general deserve more slack. People always expect film adaptations to be mirrors of the literary interpretations, but adaptations are interpretations in their own right. Someone pointed out that the Iliad is fairly suspect as far as historical events go. It manipulates history as much as the film manipulates the poem. Granted, most of the changes in Troy are designed to cater to a summer movie audience rather than to reevaluate the Trojan War or even Homer. Brad Pitt obviously can’t be homosexual or even asexual, so Patroclus was demoted from lover to cousin and Briseis was promoted from kidnapped priestess to kidnapped priestess/Achilles's lover. I also agree that the optimism of the escape route detracted from the tragedy. I don't think that was even necessary to please the audience because no one fell for the Helen-Paris love story, and certainly the Greeks didn't care anymore after ten years. Also, not that I wanted to see Hector's adorable son die, but all the close ups of his chubby baby face and blue eyes made me expect that they would stay true to that part of the plot. Finally, the death of Agamemnon surprised me because until that point the movie had avoided becoming what I really disliked about parts of Lord of the Rings--a war between good and evil. Life's just not that simple.

Anyway, my point is--aside from some of these things, plot didn't matter so much as the tone. In that respect, the film did a good job of making war exciting to wage at the same time it's painful to bear, both purposeful and useless. The best example of this is the duel between Hector and Achilles. Plot, character, emotion aside--the action itself is pretty incredible. Even as you're amazed at the fight itself, you cringe whenever either person even comes close to being injured. To be able to watch a battle, both knowing that someone has to win and who it is that will win, but to still not want either person to lose--is rare. This continues with the heartbreaking Priam-Achilles scene. The sequence of those two scenes was my absolute favorite, as I'm sure it was for most people, and for me it compensated for anything else lacking.

One of the best things? The male leads. Brad Pitt made Achilles likeable and distant at the same time (and more interestingly, likeable and distant for the same characteristics), someone who strives for abstractions beyond this world but who is very much tied to the tangible things it offers. One of the worst things? The female leads. They must have shown forty different (but really, the same) images of sobbing women.

Two complaints with which I agree and one other that I don't feel is quite as valid: the music, the dialogue and Orlando Bloom. The music was pretty awful and could easily have been improved. I'm not sure how the dialogue could be improved; that seems to be an inherent limitation in adapting something like this. Orlando Bloom? I haven't seen enough of him to share in the common criticism of his acting, but I can believe that opinion. But the thing is, whether it's because he's a bad actor so Paris's stupidity just came naturally or whether he was a good enough actor to pull it off, it didn't matter to me--he played a great Paris. Paris IS laughable, cowardly, and naive; he DOES stand around staring at Helen while others fight--which can be mistaken for Orlando's corniness rather than as Paris's character. For that reason only, it might have been better to cast someone less known.

*moving on*

Amy's birthday was fabulous. It's too bad Erotica (if you stress every syllable as Amy does, "Er-rot-ti-kah") has a ridiculous 21+ age limit. That sounds absolutely horrible out of context. Actually, it doesn't sound too great in context either...but it was definitely hilarious. Rest assured, we remain our wonderfully pure selves. Noteworthy moments include when the Peach Farm waiter showed me the still-alive jumpy fish that we were to eat half an hour later, our Blow-Pop contest (Melkis left the rest of us in the dust), and the suggestion that we go to Glass Slipper because it might be "classier."

Oh, and because it momentarily came up as a subject that night, "Too Much Coffee Man" comic strip on the band Journey:

"My best friend and I hated Journey more than anything. As a joke, we went to see them. We had a blast making fun of the guys and checking out the girls. Mid-show, when Journey played their big hit number one song we decided to take off. It felt great to walk past hordes of fans that couldn't believe that we were leaving. Now, whenever I hear Journey, the music brings back good memories of friendship and subversion. I like it because I used to hate it. It's not fair! I don't want to like a crappy pop band!"

They are indeed an awesomely corny dentist-office pop band. I love them.

Thursday, May 13, 2004

in my mailbox

Happy Birthday Victo!

I got the best card ever in the mail yesterday. For some context, it was one of the hottest days here yesterday since probably early September. I open my mailbox and there's a card there from Sarah, one of my best friends from home. There's Snoopy, decked out in a red scarf and green hat, and Woodstock flying in the falling snow. It says "Merry Christmas."

But it's okay, because she crossed out "Merry Christmas" and wrote "Happy Birthday" instead. She also drew sunglasses on Snoopy and Woodstock, added a sun in the corner, and a beach scene in the snow.

Inside, she writes: "I was going to give this to you at Christmas last year but since I got you that Peanuts book I thought this would be too Peanutty. But it's perfect now!"

And just to further my confusion, she devised a "movie mini-game" which consists of artistic renderings of scenes from films that she apparently associates with me. I'm supposed to guess which films they come from. So far I only know the first three (there are five). Number one depicts an angry man with a captain's hat (that Sarah thinks "looks more like a sombrero") and two ships shooting at each other. That's Master and Commander. Number two has an anxious, weary-looking male's face in the middle of the United States map. That's United States of Leland, which I haven't seen, but Ryan Gosling is wonderful, and beautiful. Does anyone else remember that teen TV show Breaker High? He was also on the Mickey Mouse Club. But no, that's not why he's wonderful. Sarah and I saw the movie The Believer together a couple of summers ago, and if you want to know why he's wonderful, watch that. Number three took me awhile. It shows a girl with throbbing feet sitting in what I now realize is a car. One of my favorite scenes from Kill Bill Volume 1, when the Bride was trying to move her toes after she'd gotten out of the hospital. Number four and number five are lost on me. Number four shows a car, three kids, and a couple. There's someone in the car saying "Oops." The female counterpart of the couple is saying, "I hate you," and the male counterpart is saying, "I love you." Number five shows a man whispering to a tearful woman in the midst of crowds of people, cars, and buildings...while I was writing that I just realized that's the last scene of Lost in Translation (she also sent some beautifully mousy pictures of Sofia Coppola). Does anybody have any idea what number four might be?!

All this made me momentarily forget the sincere fear of turning twenty very soon.

Can I just say that I know the most lovably and interestingly strange people in the world?

Tuesday, May 11, 2004

the end of an era

First: happy birthday, Amy.

Everyone's going to say the same, but it's only because it's true--the waltz was so much fun. I find these recurrent themes in my life a little strange. I can easily say that the most memorable year of my soon-to-be twenty years was the year of Wizard of Oz, senior year of high school. And I was the yellow brick road! During that year the sense of possibility was so strong. As much as I hate to admit it, being here really can taint that feeling, no matter how hard you try not to get caught up in the day to day stress and to not be like the driven people who actually don't know what they are really striving towards. Even this year, when I suddenly had so many options, it felt like something rare--when shouldn't it be the norm? So it's interesting that this Oz theme resurfaces during a time when I feel like I've narrowed my choices, but for the better.

I think anyone who knows me knows that I tend to define my life too much in terms of these kinds of things--books I've read, movies I've seen, music I've listened to, TV shows I've followed. I don't really know what to say or do about that, except that it's true and probably always will be true. I've told people this before, but there's a class here called "Lives Ruined by Literature" and especially lately I feel like I would be a prime subject for it. I'm this generation's Emma Bovary, minus the drama of extramarital affairs (so, really, a less interesting version). I hope this doesn't remain the case forever. I know I just said it probably will, but I'm optimistic.

So the end of Friends was definitely the end of an era (as Rachel says when she moves out and Chandler moves in). I remember how my youngest brother and I watched it from the very beginning, and we two, who had nothing else in common or anything really to say to each other during those years, would watch it together every week. I remember when I bonded with my sixth grade crush over "Smelly Cat." I remember when Victoria and Melissa would not quit using the expression "Woopah!" I remember when Matthew Perry was at the top of my and Victo's fling lists. I remember when Emily dressed up as Chandler for Halloween. I remember conversations in physics about how Joey can make anything sound dirty. I wouldn't say I'm going to miss the show but it's interesting, the things that connect you to the people who haven't grown up with you but who have just grown up as the same time as you.

Besides all of the above, this song first reminds me of the time when Audrey drove Vicki and me to Vicki's house, after volunteering at San Jose Family Shelter. It was really dark because we'd been there all day and really quiet because we were all exhausted, and Aud played it while we drove up those ridiculously steep hills. That doesn't really have a point other than it's a nice memory.

And I'd like to end by saying that only my blockmates can be such Top Model material (that includes you, Peter).

Wednesday, May 5, 2004

sometime in may

This is bound to be an extremely boring post for everyone but me, but I wanted to have a record of this. May is an amazingly crazy month.

01: Whale Rider & Wonder Years at Duy's
05: Soc 10 Final
06: Lit A-58 Paper
06: Friends Series Finale (Yes, this is on par with all the others-10 years of my life!)
06: Veritas Release Party at the Roxy
08: Arts First Weekend
09: Mother's Day
10: Adams House Waltz ["a la Wizard of Oz"]
11: Amy's 20th Birthday
11: French Paper & Presentation
13: Victoria's 20th Birthday
14: TROY
14: Soc 10 Paper
16: Jey's BU Graduation
17: Binh's 26th Birthday
17: Eng 151 Paper
18: French Oral Exam
20: Eng 151 Final
21: Shrek II
22: *Sigh*
22: Binh's USF Graduation
22: Frank's 19th Birthday
24: Lit A-58 Final
25: Move Out of Claverly =\
27: Dad's 62nd Birthday
28: Washington DC with Mom Dad & Duy
31: Back to Boston

And, the beginning of June:

02: Kim's Einstein Graduation
04: Melkis's 20th Birthday
04: Back to the Bay Area

The many images from the Getty are due to the following: 1) The Getty is beautiful. 2) I haven't had my digital camera for very long, so I don't have many pictures on my computer. The majority of decent spring pictures were taken during my West Coast spring break. This is also because the East Coast winter lasts for six months. 3) They seem fitting.

What a strangely nice mix of anticipation and anxiety.

Saturday, May 1, 2004

more of us than scribbled on bathroom walls

she lives

she pauses in her
step down from that
balcony overlooks the
waves crash against her
pearly feet slip on the crunchy
gravel scrapes her cheek and the tip of
her chin protrudes when she fails to stay
awake

she dwells in prolonged
blinks dismiss glimpses through
the window shatters into jagged
remnants sway in wind and
water flows off the tips of
her toes greedily drink yellow
rays cast upon her their day
dream

she races with
her palms in the
air bares its gritty
teeth sharply bites
her skin readily swallows the
sweet breeze whispers unlinked
letters travel listlessly through
her ears yearn to listen to the
gentle sensation plants itself in
her tired mouth stretches its
parched lips assure her wistful
mind thinks it was a good
night