For those of us who are looking for something a little different in our showtunes, Broadway now offers something for husbands with strange senses of humor, too. We were watching The Daily Show one night a couple of weeks ago and the guest for the evening was Eric Idle of Monty Python fame. Apparently the newest show to grace our favorite street is none other than a musical adaptation of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, complete with coconuts and starring Tim Curry and David Hyde Pierce. Seriously. I couldn't make something like this up.
I had almost forgotten about it until tonight, when I saw a little blurb about the show's opening night on CNN. Word on the street is that it got rave reviews. I'm just wondering how they did the killer rabbit and the catapulting cows on a stage...
Granted, it's a little odd, but John and I are already planning for a post-graduation trip to New York just to see it. Just something a little different for those of us who eat ham and jam and spamalot :)
Friday, March 18, 2005
Saturday, March 05, 2005
A Happy Day in the Peer House
Many happy congratulations to John (my language partner Chia-wei, who has difficulty saying his name, calls him Joohhnnn), who today celebrates his three-weeks-as-a-vegetarian anniversary. I haven't heard him pine for meat at all, unless you count the time he commented that he wished he'd tried the new hot dot place up the street before he'd given up meat for good. He even threw out a half a bag of frozen fish sticks yesterday evening when he was cleaning out the freezer, declaring that he would no longer have any use for them. Now the only meat left in the house is a can of tuna and a package of instant turkey gravy, which John won't let me throw away in case the local food bank suddenly finds itself short one tin of mushy fish and something to put on their mashed potatoes.
I have to say that I am so proud of the man John has become, at the way his social conscience and his compassion have just flowered. He's gone from being a man who didn't care about anything at all when I first met him to being a man who wouldn't talk to anyone for a whole day after Kerry lost the election. You may or may not agree with his politics, his beliefs, or his now meatless lifestyle, but that isn't the point. The point is that John cares, about me most of all, and I am so lucky to have a man with such a huge, kind heart.
I have to say that I am so proud of the man John has become, at the way his social conscience and his compassion have just flowered. He's gone from being a man who didn't care about anything at all when I first met him to being a man who wouldn't talk to anyone for a whole day after Kerry lost the election. You may or may not agree with his politics, his beliefs, or his now meatless lifestyle, but that isn't the point. The point is that John cares, about me most of all, and I am so lucky to have a man with such a huge, kind heart.
Friday, March 04, 2005
Girls Can Kick Butt, Too
So I was having a little bit of trouble at Jeet Kune Do on Monday night. I was working with my sometime partner and alltime friend Travis, and I kept punching him in the head without actually meaning to. It'd be a useful tendency in an actual fight, but when you're not actually trying to hurt your opponent it can be a little frustrating.
"I'm so sorry," I finally said after I nailed him in the jaw. "Maybe I should be home knitting instead."
"Oh no," he responded. "Knitting is the last thing you should be doing."
Seeing it in print now makes it look like he thinks I'm a real tomboy (either that or just really uncoordinated with my hands, which may actually be the case), but I was pretty flattered at the time. It just illustrates one of the things I love about that class; never once have I been treated like a girl. I've always been encouraged by all of my 200-pound kung fu brothers to be the very best I could be, in spite of the fact that I lack 30% of their upper body strength and 90% of their physical endurance. People ask me from time to time whether it's ever been awkward being a girl and learning from Taky Kimura, one of the most respected martial artists in recent American memory, and it always throws me off guard because it's always been so extremely the opposite of awkward. It's been amazing; it's one of the few places in my life where I've actually felt like I fit in. The only thing that might make it a little awkward is that many times I'm the only girl in the class, just for the fact that I feel like a tabby in a room full of lions. I mentioned this to one of the instructors, though, and he just laughed at me.
"You're going to be one of the few females to come out of the Kimura camp," he said. "If anything you're doubly lucky."
I humbly, totally agree.
"I'm so sorry," I finally said after I nailed him in the jaw. "Maybe I should be home knitting instead."
"Oh no," he responded. "Knitting is the last thing you should be doing."
Seeing it in print now makes it look like he thinks I'm a real tomboy (either that or just really uncoordinated with my hands, which may actually be the case), but I was pretty flattered at the time. It just illustrates one of the things I love about that class; never once have I been treated like a girl. I've always been encouraged by all of my 200-pound kung fu brothers to be the very best I could be, in spite of the fact that I lack 30% of their upper body strength and 90% of their physical endurance. People ask me from time to time whether it's ever been awkward being a girl and learning from Taky Kimura, one of the most respected martial artists in recent American memory, and it always throws me off guard because it's always been so extremely the opposite of awkward. It's been amazing; it's one of the few places in my life where I've actually felt like I fit in. The only thing that might make it a little awkward is that many times I'm the only girl in the class, just for the fact that I feel like a tabby in a room full of lions. I mentioned this to one of the instructors, though, and he just laughed at me.
"You're going to be one of the few females to come out of the Kimura camp," he said. "If anything you're doubly lucky."
I humbly, totally agree.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Drunk Birds?
Apparently humans aren't the only animals who love a good time...here's a story about some birds who were - and I'm not even remotely kidding; who could make this stuff up? - flying drunk.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/6982867/?GT=6190
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/6982867/?GT=6190
Thursday, February 17, 2005
A Cute Little Picture
So I'm normally not the biggest fan of e-mail forwards, but my aunt sent me these pictures that she received by way of some e-mail chain and I just had to share them. Apparently this couple found the deer on their front step, seemingly motherless, and decided to take it in until it can get its strength back. As the story goes, the dog has completely taken over the task of caring for it; the fawn even sleeps in the dog's bed.
A deer with a dog. Think they're aware of the alliteration?
A deer with a dog. Think they're aware of the alliteration?
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
All Hail Mao Zedong...
I got to see my friend Kaman today, who I've seen almost none of since I got back from Beijing. She's from Hong Kong, and helped me out with a linguistics project by recording herself saying all kinds of ridiculous sentences in Cantonese. ("He gave us two ducks. Is that hen yours? No, it's not mine. It's his." Etc. etc. etc.)
She's always wanted to go back to Hong Kong once she graduated. She just got hired on with one of the big four accounting firms (Arthur Andersen, I think?) and she's graduating this spring. When I asked her if she'd be transferring back home in her newfound capacity as an Internal Auditor she just sighed and shrugged.
"I don't know if I want to," she said. "These days if you work at a big company there three weeks out of the month you're in the mainland. And you know how much I hate it."
I do. When we were there together it was hard to miss her less than favorable opinion of her homeland's Big Brother (pun intended). The food was bad. It was boring. The people were racist. (They were, actually, especially against her ironically enough, but that isn't really the point.) What is the point is that she, like most of her fellow Hong-Kongians, are now subject to a corrupt government that they pretty well detest.
It got me to thinking about two things: one, why? China gives all kinds of political justifications for its reunification of Hong Kong, and I suppose from a political science standpoint a lot of them are probably valid. But why should a people have to be subject to a government just because it had been at some time in the past millennium? Most of them call themselves Chinese, but they don't identify with China. They identify with Hong Kong, which until the past twenty years couldn't possibly have been more different. So why is it so necessary, under some vast and sweeping pretext of unity, to subject a people to anything they don't really want to be a part of?
Okay, so Hong Kong is at least understandable, because there's some economic benefit to China in its reintegration. But how about Tibet? That's just greedy. There's nothing there but a bunch of Buddhists, and as much as we all love the Buddhists, how much national benefit could come of its takeover? It's not as though they're contributing anything to the gross national product. We're talking about a whole race of people whose lives are based on sitting around staring at walls and humming to themselves. If they'd rather chant in Tibetan than in Mandarin, why stop them? Who are they hurting?
Which brings me to question number two: what is it about our own patriotism that makes us want to force it on others? Why is it that Abraham Lincoln was so obsessed with not letting the south break away? Why can't the blue states form their own countries, if they feel so underrepresented? These aren't rhetorical questions, either, but genuine curiosities. After all government is, at least to some extent, just an artificial social structure. A necessary one, but not one set in place by the forces of nature. George Bush is still just a man. Jacques Chirac is still just a man. And the Chinese are starting to figure out that Mao was just a man. We support the governments of the people we think share our morals, we pooh-pooh the people who do things differently, and in the meantime my friend Kaman doesn't feel safe raising her children in the place where she grew up.
Maybe I've been reading too much John Locke, but doesn't this defeat the purpose of government in the first place? Isn't the whole point kind of a safety in numbers kind of deal? And how did it end up that, even in America, in the end it's still just the rule of the many by a few idiots with really white smiles?
She's always wanted to go back to Hong Kong once she graduated. She just got hired on with one of the big four accounting firms (Arthur Andersen, I think?) and she's graduating this spring. When I asked her if she'd be transferring back home in her newfound capacity as an Internal Auditor she just sighed and shrugged.
"I don't know if I want to," she said. "These days if you work at a big company there three weeks out of the month you're in the mainland. And you know how much I hate it."
I do. When we were there together it was hard to miss her less than favorable opinion of her homeland's Big Brother (pun intended). The food was bad. It was boring. The people were racist. (They were, actually, especially against her ironically enough, but that isn't really the point.) What is the point is that she, like most of her fellow Hong-Kongians, are now subject to a corrupt government that they pretty well detest.
It got me to thinking about two things: one, why? China gives all kinds of political justifications for its reunification of Hong Kong, and I suppose from a political science standpoint a lot of them are probably valid. But why should a people have to be subject to a government just because it had been at some time in the past millennium? Most of them call themselves Chinese, but they don't identify with China. They identify with Hong Kong, which until the past twenty years couldn't possibly have been more different. So why is it so necessary, under some vast and sweeping pretext of unity, to subject a people to anything they don't really want to be a part of?
Okay, so Hong Kong is at least understandable, because there's some economic benefit to China in its reintegration. But how about Tibet? That's just greedy. There's nothing there but a bunch of Buddhists, and as much as we all love the Buddhists, how much national benefit could come of its takeover? It's not as though they're contributing anything to the gross national product. We're talking about a whole race of people whose lives are based on sitting around staring at walls and humming to themselves. If they'd rather chant in Tibetan than in Mandarin, why stop them? Who are they hurting?
Which brings me to question number two: what is it about our own patriotism that makes us want to force it on others? Why is it that Abraham Lincoln was so obsessed with not letting the south break away? Why can't the blue states form their own countries, if they feel so underrepresented? These aren't rhetorical questions, either, but genuine curiosities. After all government is, at least to some extent, just an artificial social structure. A necessary one, but not one set in place by the forces of nature. George Bush is still just a man. Jacques Chirac is still just a man. And the Chinese are starting to figure out that Mao was just a man. We support the governments of the people we think share our morals, we pooh-pooh the people who do things differently, and in the meantime my friend Kaman doesn't feel safe raising her children in the place where she grew up.
Maybe I've been reading too much John Locke, but doesn't this defeat the purpose of government in the first place? Isn't the whole point kind of a safety in numbers kind of deal? And how did it end up that, even in America, in the end it's still just the rule of the many by a few idiots with really white smiles?
Thursday, February 03, 2005
中文版
我 剛才發現了我在電腦裏寫得 到 漢字。 這個讓我很高興； 現在我可以讓每個中國人哈哈大笑。 是的，我的中文真的那麽懷。所以我對讀這封信的中國人說：非常對不起。我從來沒說我會說中文說得很好。 哎呀，英文我都不會說吧。就是寫中文的時候可以玩一下， 也讓別的美國人覺得我很聰明阿。:)
I just figured out that I can type Chinese characters on the computer. This makes me really happy; now I can give all the Chinese people a good hearty laugh. Yes, my Chinese really is that bad. So to all the Chinese people who are reading this I say, I am really sorry. I never said I could speak Chinese well. Heck, I can't even speak English. It's just that I can have a little fun writing in Chinese, and it makes other Americans think I'm really smart. :)
I just figured out that I can type Chinese characters on the computer. This makes me really happy; now I can give all the Chinese people a good hearty laugh. Yes, my Chinese really is that bad. So to all the Chinese people who are reading this I say, I am really sorry. I never said I could speak Chinese well. Heck, I can't even speak English. It's just that I can have a little fun writing in Chinese, and it makes other Americans think I'm really smart. :)
Untitled Because I'm Cool Like That
I have to start out by apologizing for the fact that I haven't posted anything in almost a month; my parents were up for Christmas, and after that school started back up again, and to be frank I've had hardly a moment to myself since I sat down to write my last post. But I'm still alive - at least I think I am, though I'll admit I've been looking a little ashen in the mirror lately - and thought a small update would be appropriate for those of you who still either are desperately looking for ways to kill time on the internet or are serious gluttons for punishment. Because I should think, seriously, that by this time all the impatient riff-raff would have been weeded out from my readership. You all are the special ones. Or one, as the case may in fact perhaps be.
We've been keeping ourselves ridiculously busy; myself with a full courseload of Chinese classes (including a course in Chinese linguistics, which covers such course matter as all seven dialect groups and the memorization of the International Phonetic Alphabet), and John with his math, physics, and programming. I'm still mulling over the dilemma of whether or not I should apply to graduate school next year or wait awhile; the GRE's are rapidly approaching, and still I change my mind every day. John keeps telling me to make a list of the pros and cons, but I'm afraid that I'm so moment-minded that any foresight with organization of that magnitude completely escapes me. Besides, I can't much see the value in this methodology: it stands to reason that some pros and/or cons are potentially going to have more weight than their opposing counterparts. By the time I wrote the appropriate mathematical formula for figuring it all out and programmed it into my graphing calculator, I could have already made the decision the old-fashioned way. I'm starting to see the attraction in flipping a coin.
I'm reading two books right now: Carter Beats the Devil - so far intriguing, but I haven't gotten past the second chapter, so maybe not that intriguing - and Sourcery, one of Terry Pratchett's hilariously fantastic Discworld novels. Great stuff, those. John bought me a signed first-edition of Going Postal two weeks ago, which I ploughed through in two days before wrapping it in bubble wrap and putting it in a safe. I'm sure we all wish I was exaggerating. I've been writing, too, much thanks to John who pushes me endlessly (he says it's because he believes in me; I say it's because he wants me to write a runaway blockbuster so he can live high on the hog. Or tofu. Either way, his support is a lifesaver. I'd have given up on myself a long time ago if it wasn't for him.)
And that's it. I will try to post more often, though probably not every day. Which is more boring, a person who could fill the entire allotted memory of her blog with one long page of random information, or a person who feeds you small bits of random information on a daily basis? This isn't a rhetorical question, either. I'm a writer. I need to know these things.
We've been keeping ourselves ridiculously busy; myself with a full courseload of Chinese classes (including a course in Chinese linguistics, which covers such course matter as all seven dialect groups and the memorization of the International Phonetic Alphabet), and John with his math, physics, and programming. I'm still mulling over the dilemma of whether or not I should apply to graduate school next year or wait awhile; the GRE's are rapidly approaching, and still I change my mind every day. John keeps telling me to make a list of the pros and cons, but I'm afraid that I'm so moment-minded that any foresight with organization of that magnitude completely escapes me. Besides, I can't much see the value in this methodology: it stands to reason that some pros and/or cons are potentially going to have more weight than their opposing counterparts. By the time I wrote the appropriate mathematical formula for figuring it all out and programmed it into my graphing calculator, I could have already made the decision the old-fashioned way. I'm starting to see the attraction in flipping a coin.
I'm reading two books right now: Carter Beats the Devil - so far intriguing, but I haven't gotten past the second chapter, so maybe not that intriguing - and Sourcery, one of Terry Pratchett's hilariously fantastic Discworld novels. Great stuff, those. John bought me a signed first-edition of Going Postal two weeks ago, which I ploughed through in two days before wrapping it in bubble wrap and putting it in a safe. I'm sure we all wish I was exaggerating. I've been writing, too, much thanks to John who pushes me endlessly (he says it's because he believes in me; I say it's because he wants me to write a runaway blockbuster so he can live high on the hog. Or tofu. Either way, his support is a lifesaver. I'd have given up on myself a long time ago if it wasn't for him.)
And that's it. I will try to post more often, though probably not every day. Which is more boring, a person who could fill the entire allotted memory of her blog with one long page of random information, or a person who feeds you small bits of random information on a daily basis? This isn't a rhetorical question, either. I'm a writer. I need to know these things.
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
FREEDOM!!!!!
Well, I've finally done it; I've finished my finals. I would apologize for not posting for a while if I felt bad, but right now I don't. I'm so numb from stress that I won't be able to feel anything, much less guilt, for at least another two days. Next to finals themselves, this is the worst time of the quarter: I've become so adjusted to running non-stop that now my body doesn't understand that there's nothing especially pressing that needs to be done. It's like getting off of a roller coaster. It's fun (or in this case, tolerable) while you're on it, but after you get off you feel kind of nauseous.
I completely BOMBED my Chinese Lit test this morning. Which makes me wonder: do I really want to be this educated? All I really wanted was to learn another language, maybe stretch my brain a little. But just a little. I don't really care what Xi Kang ate for breakfast in Fujian provice on April 12, 485 CE. The thing about all these 400-level classes is that suddenly, for the first time in my entire fifteen years in school, they want me to think. Yes, that's right, ladies and gentlemen. No longer am I required to simply spew forth information previously spoon-fed into my eager young brain. Now - somewhat late in the game, if you ask me - I am actually required to think for myself, a practice at which I have virtually no experience. Why didn't anybody tell me I was going to have to do this? I'm disappointed and more than a little disllusioned.
I completely BOMBED my Chinese Lit test this morning. Which makes me wonder: do I really want to be this educated? All I really wanted was to learn another language, maybe stretch my brain a little. But just a little. I don't really care what Xi Kang ate for breakfast in Fujian provice on April 12, 485 CE. The thing about all these 400-level classes is that suddenly, for the first time in my entire fifteen years in school, they want me to think. Yes, that's right, ladies and gentlemen. No longer am I required to simply spew forth information previously spoon-fed into my eager young brain. Now - somewhat late in the game, if you ask me - I am actually required to think for myself, a practice at which I have virtually no experience. Why didn't anybody tell me I was going to have to do this? I'm disappointed and more than a little disllusioned.
Monday, November 29, 2004
Ode to a Si Bak
I found out late last Wednesday that my kung fu si bak, Taky, had a heart attack on the preceeding Sunday and had to spend Wednesday on the operating table undergoing a quadruple bypass surgery. I think it was a little bit of a shock to everybody; he's one of the most amazing people I've ever met, really kind and a genuinely kindred spirit. He's also shorter than I am and can throw a man twice his size across the room, which makes him truly my hero; I've spent so long thinking that I and my stubby legs could never amount to anything remarkable, at least in terms of the martial arts. Taky, however, has proven me wrong, and has welcomed chubby little old me into his kung fu family with open arms. I would appreciate it if everyone would keep him in your thoughts and prayers: he's doing well and coming home from the hospital today, but he's in for a long recovery.
Ryan and Stephen went over a few days ago and completely redid si bak's room, laid all new carpet and everything, which I think was so sweet. I just hope that he's not so surprised he has another heart attack...
Ryan and Stephen went over a few days ago and completely redid si bak's room, laid all new carpet and everything, which I think was so sweet. I just hope that he's not so surprised he has another heart attack...
Friday, November 19, 2004
Strange Happenings
Adventures abound of late in the Emerald City, where early yesterday afternoon a man ran into our car - with himself - in the middle of the block on a congested road in the center of the U-district. We were in the turn lane, John driving and I in the passenger's seat, when all of a sudden a face and a hand cracked the windshield inches in front of me. He flew backward and hit his head on the pavement. He was trying to sprint across one of the busiest roads in Seattle in the middle of the block in really heavy traffic, and -um - he hit us. We think he must have been high or something because the minute the cops showed up he split down a side alley, leaving a trail of blood that was dripping from a golf-ball sized lump in the back of his head. We were lucky, though, that no one was more seriously hurt. The worst damage of all was sustained by the car; the windshield has a crack shaped like an arm and the side mirror was ripped off when he slammed into us.
Easily one of the creepiest, strangest things I've seen in a long time.
Easily one of the creepiest, strangest things I've seen in a long time.
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
A Disclaimer
[The owner of this blog apologizes profusely for the gross, absurd, and utterly uncultured use of emoticons (i.e. :-) :-P :-S) in the title of the following post. She in no way condones the use of said emoticons, and begs you not to fill your e-mails with them when you write.]
Thank God for Student Loans :-P
It's here again: the three-weeks-til-finals-I'm-going-to-pull-my-hair-out time of the quarter. I go through this every single quarter, too. Right about this time I start wondering why I do this to myself, because, let's be honest, who deserves this kind of stress? Sometimes I wonder if there really exists, in some other possible world (to use the philosophical term), a place where people actually live on more than PB&J and don't have to pull all-nighters twice a week. And while we're on the subject, are there really people who speak Chinese? Fluently? And, more importantly, are there really people who understand it? If I hadn't seen and heard it for myself I'm not sure I'd believe it. Sometimes I still don't.
So the only thing I can say - and I can't believe I'm saying it - is thank heavens for the ridiculous amount of my student loans. It's at these times, when I swear up and down that I'm going to drop out of school and go find me a paper cup (v. the styrofoam; I'd even be environmentally responsible as a bum) and a nice street corner, that they come in handy: quite frankly, I can't afford to drop out of school. I just owe too stinking much money, and there's no way I could make the payments on a salary from McDonald's. (Not that I'd work there anyway; it's kind of an exaggeration for the sake of rhetoric.) So I guess this is a classic example of how your worst curse can be your biggest blessing.
Of course, ask me again when I'm finishing grad school and you may hear a far less good-natured opinion...
So the only thing I can say - and I can't believe I'm saying it - is thank heavens for the ridiculous amount of my student loans. It's at these times, when I swear up and down that I'm going to drop out of school and go find me a paper cup (v. the styrofoam; I'd even be environmentally responsible as a bum) and a nice street corner, that they come in handy: quite frankly, I can't afford to drop out of school. I just owe too stinking much money, and there's no way I could make the payments on a salary from McDonald's. (Not that I'd work there anyway; it's kind of an exaggeration for the sake of rhetoric.) So I guess this is a classic example of how your worst curse can be your biggest blessing.
Of course, ask me again when I'm finishing grad school and you may hear a far less good-natured opinion...
Friday, November 12, 2004
My Friend the Scarecrow
So the mood in Seattle, and especially in the U-district, has been decidedly somber of late, owing in part to John Kerry's loss of the election and the sudden and constant onslaught of midterms. I remember a day not so long gone when they were called midterms because they were in the middle of the term. Now I can't seem to be rid of them, even though I'm only taking three classes. I feel as though I'm in some creepy episode of the Twilight Zone. You know, the one where you just keep taking tests and taking tests and taking tests...
In the quest to cheer myself up I found myself stumbling into Scarecrow Video, this gigantic video store in Seattle that specializes in indie and foreign flicks. I am now officially in a perpetual state of bliss. They have more Chinese movies and bad Hong Kong kung fu flicks than I could watch in ten years, literally just walls and walls of them. I'll never be bored again.
In the quest to cheer myself up I found myself stumbling into Scarecrow Video, this gigantic video store in Seattle that specializes in indie and foreign flicks. I am now officially in a perpetual state of bliss. They have more Chinese movies and bad Hong Kong kung fu flicks than I could watch in ten years, literally just walls and walls of them. I'll never be bored again.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Pixar Rules
So, as Johnny promised (without consulting me first, incidentally, which I think was a plot to coerce me into posting something), I will now say something about "The Incredibles." I don't know why he couldn't just do it - he saw it with me and I'm pretty sure that there wasn't anything that I noticed and he didn't - but I guess until he gets a little more confidence in his writing ability (like that'll happen; what, a programmer write?) I'm going to have to pick up the proverbial slack. I guess it helps that I'm only literally the biggest Pixar fan that ever did walk the face of the earth...
In short, um, Pixar rules. This movie was so cool. Kind of a generic cliche of a description, but it works so well for this one. I've been waiting for over a year to see it, and boy howdy was it worth the wait. The animation was amazing and the story cute (if not entirely cartoonish). Incidentally, this is also my one and only complaint about the movie: half the time I didn't even feel like I was watching a cartoon. It was more like a spinoff (is that one word or two?) of Spiderman or something. I think they're just trying to confuse us; with more live-action movies using computer graphics and computer animation looking more and more like live action, how are we supposed to know which direction is up anymore? It's a conspiracy, I tell you.
I'm more excited than ever now to see what Pixar will do with itself once it's shed the restrictive yolk of the Disney empire (Pixar's next film, "Cars," is slated to be its last under Mickey Mouse's domineering demands) and struck out on its own.
In short, um, Pixar rules. This movie was so cool. Kind of a generic cliche of a description, but it works so well for this one. I've been waiting for over a year to see it, and boy howdy was it worth the wait. The animation was amazing and the story cute (if not entirely cartoonish). Incidentally, this is also my one and only complaint about the movie: half the time I didn't even feel like I was watching a cartoon. It was more like a spinoff (is that one word or two?) of Spiderman or something. I think they're just trying to confuse us; with more live-action movies using computer graphics and computer animation looking more and more like live action, how are we supposed to know which direction is up anymore? It's a conspiracy, I tell you.
I'm more excited than ever now to see what Pixar will do with itself once it's shed the restrictive yolk of the Disney empire (Pixar's next film, "Cars," is slated to be its last under Mickey Mouse's domineering demands) and struck out on its own.
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Jumping up and down...
It seems almost tasteless to start my first post in two weeks by bragging, but I'm too excited to care right now. I just got a letter telling me that a short story that I sent in to the Writer's Digest annual writing competition received an honorable mention, and this out of 18,000 entries. I am sooooo stoked. I just can't believe it. Of course the perfectionist in me wants to have won the whole darn contest (the winner gets a trip to New York to meet literary agents), but considering this is only the second short story I've actually finished, let alone submitted anywhere, I feel relatively justified in telling my inner critic to just shut up.
On a more morbid note, I was eating the most delicious tofu teriyaki for dinner tonight when I bit into -surprise- a piece of chicken (and yes, dad, you can tell by the texture). I promptly spit it out, but by that time I'd had dead animal in my mouth and the damage was pretty well done. This is the second time it's happened at two different restaurants; I'm afraid I may have to give up my beloved tofu teriyaki altogether, which somewhat tempers the excitement of the day.
On a more morbid note, I was eating the most delicious tofu teriyaki for dinner tonight when I bit into -surprise- a piece of chicken (and yes, dad, you can tell by the texture). I promptly spit it out, but by that time I'd had dead animal in my mouth and the damage was pretty well done. This is the second time it's happened at two different restaurants; I'm afraid I may have to give up my beloved tofu teriyaki altogether, which somewhat tempers the excitement of the day.
Friday, September 24, 2004
Go See Hero
Just a brief plug..."Hero," for so long in limbo in the U.S. due to a contract between Zhang Yimou and Miramax, is now playing in theaters nationwide. If you're a martial arts fan (you know who you are!) and/or you like a little eye candy, I highly recommend this movie. I was surprised to find out in Beijing that the movie's actually a little bit controversial among Chinese film critics, but hey, I'm not Chinese, so I can enjoy it without the slightest bit of guilt owing entirely to my blessed American ignorance.
A Short Apology and a Lot of Blabbing
Well, hello again. I don't know if anyone's even reading the blog anymore, since I've been home for a little over a week now. Truth be told I'm surprised anyone's reading it at all, given I posted so little. I really have to apologize for that: I was so busy in Beijing, and when I could get to a computer it was truly a pain to try and get anything posted. It's just one of the things about going to a communist country. You can type in a web address, but it's a crap shoot as to whether you'll be able to go there or not. Who knew John's 'blog would be full of anti-socialist sentiment?
Some more promising news: I've created a photo album with pictures of the trip, accessible at http://beccamozart.zoto.com, so you can finally see some of the stuff. Here comes another apology: when I uploaded the pictures I added descriptions on all 150+ pictures, but for some reason a lot of them didn't save. I'll be going back and fixing them, but it'll take some time so if you're curious about a certain picture it might be worth your while to check back a couple of times.
My trip home was decidedly better than the one to Beijing; all luggage made it safely to Seattle, I got three very filling vegetarian meals on the flight, and no one gypped me out of anything substantial, as long as you don't count the guy who charged me ten yuan to carry my luggage from the taxi to the customs gate. I also made several new friends on my oh-so-adventurous flight, including a guy who grew up in Beijing but now lives in Fremont, CA (and kindly saved me from misguidedly getting on a flight to Singapore instead of the one to San Francisco); a girl who's studying at Stanford and was taking her mother to the States for the first time; and a professor from Fudan University in Shanghai, who offered to help me get into the school should I choose to pursue graduate studies in China. I'm starting to think that when you're a white girl in China and you can speak just enough Chinese to get yourself into trouble it's really not too hard to make friends, because everybody around just finds you so darn amusing.
The last week away was a little difficult, just for the fact that my dizzy little brain was starting to remember that there was a world where I understood other people and knew whether I was being complimented or insulted when someone told me I had such very white skin (in Beijing, by the way, it's apparently quite the compliment). I started feeling a little homesick and anxious to get back to my husband and my little apartment still full of yet-to-be-unpacked boxes. It didn't help that the class schedule was starting to wind down, so I had more time to myself, all of which I used to wonder where John was and what he was doing, even though the majority of the time it was the middle of the night in Seattle. We did do a few interesting things with the group, however, including eating at a very fancy Peking duck restaurant and taking a boat out on the lake. We met with an urban planner and an expert on public art (rather scarce as yet in the New China) and all the rest of the seminar-y stuff that we had to do to qualify the trip as a "class," but for the most part we spent the last week winding stuff down and - dare I say it - shopping.
Oh, but this is getting long. I may actually post a couple more times; there are some stories and things about my trip that I still want to share, since I had so much difficulty posting when I was there. Let me know if you like the pictures!
Becca
Some more promising news: I've created a photo album with pictures of the trip, accessible at http://beccamozart.zoto.com, so you can finally see some of the stuff. Here comes another apology: when I uploaded the pictures I added descriptions on all 150+ pictures, but for some reason a lot of them didn't save. I'll be going back and fixing them, but it'll take some time so if you're curious about a certain picture it might be worth your while to check back a couple of times.
My trip home was decidedly better than the one to Beijing; all luggage made it safely to Seattle, I got three very filling vegetarian meals on the flight, and no one gypped me out of anything substantial, as long as you don't count the guy who charged me ten yuan to carry my luggage from the taxi to the customs gate. I also made several new friends on my oh-so-adventurous flight, including a guy who grew up in Beijing but now lives in Fremont, CA (and kindly saved me from misguidedly getting on a flight to Singapore instead of the one to San Francisco); a girl who's studying at Stanford and was taking her mother to the States for the first time; and a professor from Fudan University in Shanghai, who offered to help me get into the school should I choose to pursue graduate studies in China. I'm starting to think that when you're a white girl in China and you can speak just enough Chinese to get yourself into trouble it's really not too hard to make friends, because everybody around just finds you so darn amusing.
The last week away was a little difficult, just for the fact that my dizzy little brain was starting to remember that there was a world where I understood other people and knew whether I was being complimented or insulted when someone told me I had such very white skin (in Beijing, by the way, it's apparently quite the compliment). I started feeling a little homesick and anxious to get back to my husband and my little apartment still full of yet-to-be-unpacked boxes. It didn't help that the class schedule was starting to wind down, so I had more time to myself, all of which I used to wonder where John was and what he was doing, even though the majority of the time it was the middle of the night in Seattle. We did do a few interesting things with the group, however, including eating at a very fancy Peking duck restaurant and taking a boat out on the lake. We met with an urban planner and an expert on public art (rather scarce as yet in the New China) and all the rest of the seminar-y stuff that we had to do to qualify the trip as a "class," but for the most part we spent the last week winding stuff down and - dare I say it - shopping.
Oh, but this is getting long. I may actually post a couple more times; there are some stories and things about my trip that I still want to share, since I had so much difficulty posting when I was there. Let me know if you like the pictures!
Becca
Sunday, September 05, 2004
Hello Everyone
Hello, everyone.I guess I have to apologize for the sporadic postings; I wonder if anyone's evenreading them anymore. Truth is I have difficulty spending any significant amount of time in the internet cafe here in Beijing, the air quality is so bad. I'm sitting right under a "no smoking" sign, but it doesn't seem to make much difference. Even the guy at the front desk has a cigarette in his mouth. It's eight o'clock on a Sunday night, and the place is so full up of wacky video game junkies that I got the last computer here. It's crazy.
My second week in Beijing has been slightly less exciting than the first, which I'm actually grateful for. Last week was so hectic that I hardly had the opportunity to sit down for five minutes at a time. I'm finding ways to fillthe extra time, though, and the whole experience just seems to be going by soquickly. I've done so much shopping it's embarrassing, had the best manicure of my life, and even went to see Zhang Yimou's latest film (ever seen "Hero"?) called "House of Flying Daggers." I was really excited, since "Hero" is hands-down my favorite movie. "Flying Daggers" is a pretty controversial film on this side of the globe; Zhang Yimou used to be a dissident filmmaker, but people are regarding him as a little bit of a sell out now. When "FlyingDaggers" opened the government promoted the film so heavily that they wouldn't let any Hollywood movies screen in the entire country for the first twenty days after its release. I have to admit that the plot was at once! slightly thin and layered on way too thick, but the cinematography is gorgeous in true Zhang Yimou style, and all in all it was fun. Besides, like I was telling my friends last night, since when does a Kung Fu movie have to have a plot at all, much less a believable one?
We've had a pretty exciting line up of speakers and such here this week,including two of China's most prominent fifth-generation directors and an"Americanist" from Beijing University. We also went shopping at Wangfujing, which is so outrageously expensive I couldn't believe it. It was very eye-opening as to the enormous chasm between the rich and the poor in this city; where we're staying near the Hutongs (old neighborhoods) a shirt in a littleclothing shop will cost maybe 30 yuan ($3 USD) if you don't bargain too hard, and from what I understand we live in a part of town that "normal Chinese" (I still haven't quite figured out what that means, but Beijingers use the phrase constantly) have difficulty affording. At Wangfujing a good shirt will run you a good 300 yuan (about $35 USD) at the cheapest, and there is no haggling. It's very western. We even ate dinner at Pizza Hut, which in China is a fancy restaurant, go figure. There are also McDonald's all over the city! , but here McDonald's is a status symbol, as are the Starbucks. It's comparable to what you would pay in the states, but when you're paying the price of a nice shirt for a cup of coffee or a hamburger it kind of throws you for a loop. In the US, nobody ever complains that McDonald's is too expensive.
The thing about Beijing is that it just simply accosts your senses: there's so much going on here at once that it's hard to get your bearings. The streets never have the same buildings two days in a row. There's the smell of overflowing sewers (you have to watch where you step) and the smell of Budweiser from the brand-spanking-new American-style bars. On Friday I had traditional flat bread from a street-stand for breakfast and Schlotzky's Deli for dinner. Then I had Chinese candy, green tea, and Pringles for dessert. People drive their cars like they're still on bicycles, driving in between lanes on thefreeway and going wrong-way down the one-way streets like that's the way you're supposed to do it. It's noisy and it's dirty and it's poor but it's also lavish and exorbitant and over-the top. I'm having a hard time getting my bearings here, always feeling like I'm floating around, and I've only lived here for two and a half weeks. I can't even imagine what it must be like to have lived here for sixty years and suddenly feel like the world is being pulled out from underneath you. How can anybody call this place home? Doesn't the very word imply that there's something there that you recognize?
My second week in Beijing has been slightly less exciting than the first, which I'm actually grateful for. Last week was so hectic that I hardly had the opportunity to sit down for five minutes at a time. I'm finding ways to fillthe extra time, though, and the whole experience just seems to be going by soquickly. I've done so much shopping it's embarrassing, had the best manicure of my life, and even went to see Zhang Yimou's latest film (ever seen "Hero"?) called "House of Flying Daggers." I was really excited, since "Hero" is hands-down my favorite movie. "Flying Daggers" is a pretty controversial film on this side of the globe; Zhang Yimou used to be a dissident filmmaker, but people are regarding him as a little bit of a sell out now. When "FlyingDaggers" opened the government promoted the film so heavily that they wouldn't let any Hollywood movies screen in the entire country for the first twenty days after its release. I have to admit that the plot was at once! slightly thin and layered on way too thick, but the cinematography is gorgeous in true Zhang Yimou style, and all in all it was fun. Besides, like I was telling my friends last night, since when does a Kung Fu movie have to have a plot at all, much less a believable one?
We've had a pretty exciting line up of speakers and such here this week,including two of China's most prominent fifth-generation directors and an"Americanist" from Beijing University. We also went shopping at Wangfujing, which is so outrageously expensive I couldn't believe it. It was very eye-opening as to the enormous chasm between the rich and the poor in this city; where we're staying near the Hutongs (old neighborhoods) a shirt in a littleclothing shop will cost maybe 30 yuan ($3 USD) if you don't bargain too hard, and from what I understand we live in a part of town that "normal Chinese" (I still haven't quite figured out what that means, but Beijingers use the phrase constantly) have difficulty affording. At Wangfujing a good shirt will run you a good 300 yuan (about $35 USD) at the cheapest, and there is no haggling. It's very western. We even ate dinner at Pizza Hut, which in China is a fancy restaurant, go figure. There are also McDonald's all over the city! , but here McDonald's is a status symbol, as are the Starbucks. It's comparable to what you would pay in the states, but when you're paying the price of a nice shirt for a cup of coffee or a hamburger it kind of throws you for a loop. In the US, nobody ever complains that McDonald's is too expensive.
The thing about Beijing is that it just simply accosts your senses: there's so much going on here at once that it's hard to get your bearings. The streets never have the same buildings two days in a row. There's the smell of overflowing sewers (you have to watch where you step) and the smell of Budweiser from the brand-spanking-new American-style bars. On Friday I had traditional flat bread from a street-stand for breakfast and Schlotzky's Deli for dinner. Then I had Chinese candy, green tea, and Pringles for dessert. People drive their cars like they're still on bicycles, driving in between lanes on thefreeway and going wrong-way down the one-way streets like that's the way you're supposed to do it. It's noisy and it's dirty and it's poor but it's also lavish and exorbitant and over-the top. I'm having a hard time getting my bearings here, always feeling like I'm floating around, and I've only lived here for two and a half weeks. I can't even imagine what it must be like to have lived here for sixty years and suddenly feel like the world is being pulled out from underneath you. How can anybody call this place home? Doesn't the very word imply that there's something there that you recognize?
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