(500) Days of Summer

“(500) Days of Summer” was the perfect movie for me to watch last night.

I needed a little breather from my life (not that there’s anything explicitly wrong- I just needed a break) and though I wanted to watch “Ponyo,” I was talked into “(500) Days of Summer.” I wanted to watch both, I figured, why not?

I’m so glad I watched this movie.

Hype of any kind makes me leery of movies, and I’ve heard quite a few things about this one that made me cautious. First of all, some critic hailed it as the best romantic comedy since “Love Actually.” I was horrified, because I thought “Love Actually” was actually quite a load of crap and a giant waste of the talent they had acquired. You have Bill Nighy, Emma Thompson, Liam Neeson, Alan Rickman, and Mr. Bean and what do you do with them? Insipid “romantic” garbage?? WASTE.

ANYWAY. Back to the task at hand.

There are spoilers, spoilers galore! If you haven’t watched and would like to, stop reading!



Joseph Gordon-Levitt really made me love (LOVE!) Tom Hansen, a rather wistful romantic, a firm believer in love conquering all. He played the poor sap with enough conviction to make my flinty little heart melt. Those puppy-dog eyes and that unfurling smile- so perfect for Tom.

Can I just say, though, that I don't believe men like Tom really exist? They don't! Why is it that screenwriters seem to be able to write realistic women but always write the men much more ... more than they really are in real life?? BAH.

Zooey Deschanel felt slightly disengaged from her character, I thought. It worked for Summer, since she doesn’t believe in love, hasn’t ever experienced it, and thinks it’s all a farce. My kind of woman, honestly. She’s upfront, doesn’t mince words, and doesn’t mislead Tom.

Still. That moment when she tells Tom that they are “just friends” after he gets punched in the face coming to her defense? Heartbreaking. At the end of the 500 days, when Tom asks her why, how she happened to be MARRIED when she previously didn’t even believe in having a boyfriend (quotes are from memory, don’t judge me):

Summer: I just … woke up one day, and ... I knew.
Tom: Knew what?
Summer: Knew what I was never sure of with you.

Punch in the gut, much? Ouch. Tom turns his face away from camera, and it's almost painful to watch him trying to hold back his tears.

At the end of the movie, Summer ends up the one believing in fate and karma, and tells Tom that it’s all thanks to him, he instilled in her the belief of romance and love. She says to him, “You weren’t wrong, Tom. You were just wrong about me.” Easy enough for her to say, she’s the one that’s married while Tom is broken-hearted and unemployed.

As you can tell, I was firmly on Tom’s side the entire way through the movie. I guess that’s appropriate, since the story was really told through his perspective, but I wish that Summer’s thoughts and actions had been explained a bit better. I wanted to like her- I love Zooey Deschanel!- but I just couldn’t get my tepid feelings towards her any warmer than “meh.”

Supporting characters were just basic outlines, rough sketches of people that weren’t ever fully fleshed out- silly boss, stupid co-workers, dumb friends with even dumber advice- with the exception of Tom’s little sister, Rachel (played by Chloe Moretz), who is her brother’s guru. She was great, the straight-talking advice-giver that, by turns and with much exasperation and love, comforted, cheered up, and whipped her brother.

I thought the musical number (all movies should have musical numbers!) was funny and appropriate- Tom was walking on clouds, waltzing through life, and it was just adorable. Animated bird? Why not? UCLA marching band? Sure!

The animated title cards indicating what day in the relationship we’re about to see were a bit twee, maybe a bit much, but they worked. The animations that indicated weather, foreshadowing the mood of the following scene(s) were slightly too leading- the clouds and gray day prepared me in advance for a fight, the sunlight and tweeting birds told me that I was going to see cuteness and giggles. Still, for the overall mood of the film, everything worked.

(Aside: At some point, I'm going to have to write about the depiction of L.A. in this movie. It's crazy.)

After sleeping on it, I woke up thinking that with a little more depth and a ton more delving into Tom’s psyche, this movie could have been the male version of “Amelie.”

Both movies have foregone conclusions- we know that Amelie will end up with Nino, we know that Tom will not end up with Summer. The fact that knowing doesn’t take away from the viewing is what made both stories so memorable to me, part of why I love them both.

“(500) Days of Summer” doesn’t touch “Amelie,” but it’s still very good, a movie that I will definitely be buying on DVD.

And have I mentioned how darling Joseph Gordon-Levitt is??

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Julie & Julia Article

Funny- Julie Powell on what "Julie & Julia" got wrong:

http://www.doublex.com/section/arts/julie-powell-what-julie-julia-butchered

That is all, regular postings to resume ... at some point.

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Edison, Downtown

Edison Downtown
108 W. 2nd Street
Los Angeles, CA 90012
http://www.edisondowntown.com/

Telephone: 213.613.0000

Wednesday - Friday:
5:00 pm - 2:00 am
Saturday:
8:00 pm - 2:00 am


I'm not going to post a picture of this place, because it's impossible to really do it justice. The look is very industrial-chic, a combination of roaring 20's, art deco, and steamboat interior. Sound weird? That's because it kind of is! (Do check out the website- it sort of gives a good idea of what the place is like.)

But it's lovely, too. The Edison is a nice place- I think the word I would employ is "grownup." Everything's customized, from chairs and tables (modified trunks!) to lights and sinks.

I went on Saturday for a birthday party and had a grand ol' time. Except for the whole absinthe thing, but that was my fault. I insisted on trying a drink with absinthe in it (I tried the Absinthe '75) even though the waitress explicitly asked me if I liked black licorice, because if I didn't, I wouldn't like absinthe. I naively assumed that the licorice taste wouldn't be TOO strong (stupid, stupid, stupid!) and ordered the drink. Yeah, never again.

I had another drink, the Mistress Nouveaux, which I loved. I'm sticking with that one from now on. (Pomegranate martini with a champagne floater- delicious and pink and served in an old-school champagne glass, none of that flute nonsense!)

I had a sip of someone else's Southside Fizz, which was really good. Surprising, because I don't like gin. Yes, I said it- gin sucks. It tastes like vodka gone horribly wrong to me, as if someone didn't make the vodka properly. But the Southside Fizz was great- maybe the citrus really just cut that gin flavor?

A wonderful thing about the Edison is that there is a dress code. Yes, men, you must wear proper attire! Women can get away with a lot, but it cracks me up to see men get turned away at the door (after waiting in line!) because they're not wearing appropriate clothing. I'm mean, but it's funny!

(Very Long Aside: There is a "friend" of mine, who will remain unnamed, who is causing me all kinds of drama. I told one of my other friends this fact: the drama-filled friend is my only frenemy. Seriously, I have no other girlfriends that I would consider frenemies but this one. So the frenemy isn't speaking to me, but won't do the courtesy of telling me WHY SHE ISN'T SPEAKING TO ME. How the flippin' heck do you expect ANY sort of resolution if you won't TELL ME WHAT'S WRONG?! I cannot abide with completely illogical people, it drives me bonkers.

So Frenemy only responds to direct text messaged questions with terse, one-word replies. Does not reply to e-mail. Will not pick up when I call. I know that Frenemy will be at the Edison, and as the week progresses, I am hoping that she will come to her senses (silly me for imagining the best) and actually tell me what is going on.

As I continue trying to resolve a situation that clearly needs more drama (read with a giant amount of sarcasm), I am getting angrier and angrier. Ask anyone in my family: the one sure-fire way of pissing me off is to continue being mad at me. If I, the prickly, passive-aggressive porcupine incapable of sharing my feelings, am reaching out to you REPEATEDLY, you better be absolutely sure that you either want my wrath or are willing to TALK TO ME ALREADY. I think it's safe to say that this woman went with wrath, probably thinking to herself, "Jeanny's wrath. How bad could it be?"

Frenemy and I have a mutual friend at the shindig on Saturday. She, being a kind and considerate person that understands my frustration, warns me when Frenemy is just about to get to the Edison. I resign myself to having to see THAT FACE and am glad that I am sitting at the far end of the table, knowing that it will be very telling when Frenemy gets there to see where she chooses to sit.

Frenemy shows up (having waited in line, alone, for a good half-hour, which I am going to go ahead and call KARMA) and, without sparing me so much as a glance, sits at the opposite end of the table, with as many people between us as possible.

At this point, I am LIVID (also, I have sampled champagne, vodka, gin, and absinthe). I may not get truly angry very often, but when I do, I am tenaciously, determinedly, hellishly mad. I hate cutting people out of my life, as I don't have that many friends that I would consider 'close,' but I'm at that point. I'm done. She had SEVERAL chances and chose to ignore, belittle, and scorn me at every opportunity.

I leave shortly after she gets there because I'm having a hard time not jumping on the table to punch her in the nose.

Whew. I feel better now.

That cow. (I am proud of myself for giving her the moniker 'Frenemy' rather than 'Stupid Heifer.' I've shown restraint; this must be what maturity feels like.)

In all seriousness, though. If you're mad at someone and they keep trying to contact you, why wouldn't you at least tell them why you're mad?? I don't get that part at all. AT ALL. Tell me what's wrong and THEN be mad. Don't be a self-righteous prig that's full of indignation and huffiness. Just DON'T DO IT. GEEZ.

Aside's over, back to the good part of the evening!)

I tried a bit of someone's grilled cheese sandwich, which I found incongruous but delicious. I love cheese, so there wasn't much of a chance that I would have disliked something with cheese and butter (and negligible bread).

The people that work at the Edison were all dressed in 20's style (sort of), flapper dresses and suits and whatnot- even the absinthe fairy. There's a girl with green sparkly wings that pushes an absinthe cart around. Literally a nice cart with what looks like an apothecary box on it that has old-fashioned glass vials and bottles full of a variety of different absinthes. Having had my fill of black licorice for the evening, I didn't try any- I appreciated the green fairy concept, though.

If ever I'm downtown, which I never am, Edison would definitely be the place that I go to for dinner and/or drinks. Provided that I meet the dress code, of course. And also provided that there are no frenemies or heifers or mad cows within my visual range.

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Samuel Pepys via Julie Powell

I've been reading Julie Powell's blog, "The Julie/Julia Project," whenever I can manage. It is, in turns, fascinating, horrifying, awe-inspiring, and exhausting. I think Julie Powell would be the type of woman (maybe she's not anymore, I don't know, but back then, during the Project) that was great to go to bars with, would hand me a vodka gimlet as soon as I walked through her door (if we were friends- it'd be odd if she was offering drinks to strangers), and could discuss the making of a proper Hollandaise with me at length (why wouldn't there be more lemon??).

Today, I read her entry from March 4, 2003. As usual, funny with a dash of desperation and straying off-topic (I want a monkey, too!).

There's a bit near the end there where she talks about her current reading material, the diaries of Samuel Pepys. Mrs. Powell's words:

You know, I’m on my second year of the Samuel Pepys diaries. This guy wrote every single day for nine years, and about ninety percent of it is about eating a good barrel of oysters and drinking and being very merry and picking up some new books and drinking and going to work, where not much to do, and drinking. Can be pretty stultifying on a day-to-day basis. But it’s addictive too, because everyone once in awhile he goes to see nine men drawn and quartered, or masturbates while thinking about his friend’s daughter, or witnesses the Great Fire of London.

I like to think I’m like that.

This is the exact blog post that has made me a fan of Julie Powell. I know that there's a lot of personal stuff that happened after her first book was published, and I know how I feel about the players in said drama now, while I'm in a time warp in 2003. But I think she's just swung my vote- I will be on her side, I think, by the time I read her books.

Blogs can be meaningless shoeboxes crammed full of old movie stubs, ragged friendship bracelets (WHY did we wear those??), the first rose received from that first significant other (what's his name?), and a plethora of other cliches. But when done with thought and care and passion, blogs can be lasting, impressive work, without the frustration of trying to get published but with the satisfaction of getting thoughts and ideas out there.

People all want a voice, and for that voice to be heard. This is never more apparent than when reading the blog of someone who didn't know, at the time, that their angry/annoyed/ecstatic/raving/ranting pounding away on a keyboard would amount to a book deal/movie/call from their hero/free sandwich.

I'm not sure what I want. I certainly have no theme to my blog- it's not goal-oriented, like the Julie/Julia Project, it does not delve very deeply into my personal life, like Dooce (I love Heather Armstrong, but I will never understand how she talks about ... all that in such a public setting. More power to her!), and it's certainly not for profit (though if it must be, I would want it to be like Etsy).

My blog is still a shoebox. I'm working on finding a more permanent container, but for now, my ratty old shoebox works juuuust fine.

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Julie & Julia

Can enough ever be said about Meryl Streep? I don’t know what it is about her, but she so perfectly embodies every character she plays without going completely overboard or overdone. She is, simply, awesome.

In “Julie & Julia,” Meryl Streep is predictably amazing as the bigger-than-life Julia Child. The entire time I watched the movie, I marveled at how essentially Julia she seemed to be. I don't understand how anyone can play someone so famous (Julia Child was, after all, very well documented- lots of footage exists of her!) without making it a caricature.

Amy Adams was fine. Her hair was terrible.

I'm sorry if Julie Powell actually had that haircut during 2002 - 2003, when she under the Julie/Julia Project, but it made Amy Adams look like she had come to blows with a lawnmower that was trying to give her a mullet. That's all I'll say about that (except- isn't Julie Powell a brunette??).

I don't know Julie Powell, of course, but her character came off quite whiny. I felt sorry for her sainted husband and even sorrier for her battered kitchen. I never felt sympathy for her, though I immediately fell in love with Julia Child.

I watched the movie with my sister, and it was a perfect chick-flick. Also, both my sister and I cook quite a bit (mostly Korean food- shocker), and it was nice to have the post-theater dissection with someone who knows what a bain-marie is.

Since I've seen the movie, I've been thinking about projects. The Julie/Julia Project was, after all, a self-inflicted (sorry, that sounds cruel- maybe self-motivated?) undertaking that Julie did for herself. (Read the archives of Julie Powell's blog here.)

(I won't say any more about the movie- it's not plot-driven, it's fueled by butter and sometimes jarring cuts between scenes- just watch it, but on a full stomach.)

I've been reading Julie Powell's Julie/Julia Project blog entries for the past two days. Made it from August, inception and plunge into the water, to December of 2002. The first five months, pretty much as full of turmoil and tumult as I would think it should be.

Julie Powell's a funny writer, and I appreciate her take on the making of those French recipes, because I'm sure I would be the same way (urged along by vodka tonics and stress-induced tears, I mean). It almost makes me want to try getting through "Mastering the Art of French Cooking." (Well ... if I wasn't such a picky eater, I would do it. But there really is no appropriate substitute for mushrooms, is there? And I do so hate mushrooms. I also dislike lobster and scallops, which Julie Powell's already gotten to multiple times between August and December of 2002!)

I think the blog, more so than the movie, reflects Julie Powell in a better light- perhaps still not a flattering light, but I do like her, unlike her proxy in the film. I'm not blaming Amy Adams ... mostly, I'm blaming the hairstylist and the writers.

Julie Powell mentions this a couple times in passing (well, maybe she mentions it more in her 2003 entries, having gotten there yet), but she attempted to cook a meal entirely from recipes that Laura Esquivel writes about in "Like Water for Chocolate," a lovely book that I happen to own.

I remember those recipes being a bit difficult, involving what seemed like hours and hours of prep work and tons of obscure ingredients, but the fact that Mrs. Powell tried to cook those dishes made me immediately love her. Bless her for trying what I would have taken as a task in futility!

Of course, now I want to try it. Quail with rose petal sauce? Why not? (I also need to watch the movie. I don't know why I haven't.)

I will certainly be picking up a copy of Mrs. Child's book, for a bit of light nighttime reading- hopefully on a stomach full of quail and rose petals.

In the meantime, my right eye has been tormenting me. I'm very Korean in this respect- I avoid doctors, assuming things will clear up if given time and copious amounts of green tea. Well, the eye has been flushed with water, then with saline, then had a hot compress applied to it-- nothing. Remains red and itchy. Optometrist appointment this afternoon, which I'm a bit frightened of. If I'm offline for a while, it's probably because I'm lazy. Or because I only have one eye.

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Little Girl's Dreams

When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a writer when I grew up. Then I wanted to be an artist. Then I wanted to be a gymnast. Then I wanted to be a writer. Then I wanted to be an artist. Then I wanted to be an accountant. Then I wanted to be an artist.

I ended up, miraculously, in the field that I kept going back to ... sort of. I think film is an art, and working in film makes me artist-adjacent. I don’t actually create art anymore, but I contribute to the process, and I am a cog in the giant machine that makes films appear on screens all over the world. When I actually sit and think about it, that's insane.

I am ludicrously grateful that I have been able to parlay the skills that my parents gave me (I refrained from writing "skills that my mama gave me") into a career that I love, that I am willing to get up in the mornings for. My job, all my past jobs, have paid the bills, have given me some semblance of contentment, and have taught me about this industry and about myself.

Every now and again, though, I get that pesky little thought in my head: what if…?

What if I had become an illustrator, my original major in college?

What if I had just majored in math, like I thought I wanted to?

What if I had persevered and continued to write?

What if I had not found my path and was still working on commercials and smaller projects?

What if I had taken that job and moved out of this city, out of this country?

When I dwell, I know that the choices I’ve made were the right ones for me. I don’t have regrets. I would not have met the people that I’ve met or had the experiences that I’ve had if my choices had been different.

I’ve met amazing people, I’ve met horrible people, I’ve been bland people, I’ve met talented people, I’ve met people with the most awesome luck I’ve ever seen- all people that have helped me to form my opinions and shape me into the crazy, stubborn, workaholic person that I am today. I can’t regret having met any of them (though a few almost slide from ‘resignation’ into ‘regret’).

I’ve had some unique experiences, seen things other people will never get to see, and watched the birth, growth, and completion of several projects. Each show has given me new insight into human nature and into how I would do things if I was in charge (everyone dreams of that, don’t they?).

I’m blessed.

I know that I’m a lucky, lucky girl and I have a lot to be thankful of.

But now, in this digital age, I can’t help wondering: If I had grown up in this age of Googling, blogging, Twittering, YouTubing, and Facebooking, would my dreams be different? Would I want to be a YouTube sensation? Would I want to be a blogger that could live off ad revenue alone? Would I want to be the Twitterer with the most followers?

I’m so glad that I was on the cusp- not quite young enough to take all the digital innovations for granted, old enough to be leery of too much information about me on the internet, young enough to know how to use all the technology, but old enough to use it (hopefully) thoughtfully.

For now, I’m going to buy a new sketchbook small enough to fit in my purse and relive the dreams of my youth, to appease the little girl in me.

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Adam

"Adam" is a small film directed by Max Mayer, who hasn't done much work. I believe he's been professionally quiet because he was agonizing about "Adam," as he was the writer and director (painful and thankless to do both jobs, I would think). It felt like a well thought-out movie, very painstakingly assembled.

Hugh Dancy plays Adam and Rose Byrne plays Beth. They meet by chance, when Beth moves into Adam's building. There's something in the interaction between the two, even from the very beginning, that's a little strange and very intriguing (to me, anyway). That's the entire basic premise- seems so easy and potentially comical.

Not to give too much away, but Adam has some issues. Beth has some issues. They both aren't sure exactly what they need or want, but know that they want their paths to cross. I found it refreshing and so nice that there were no games, no acts of pretense. They're both very honest, though the extent of Adam's honesty could almost be viewed as a fault.

The unfolding of their relationship and the gradual getting-to-know-you that these two go through is quiet and soft, but important and almost scary. It seems like they both know their lives will change just from knowing one another, and the audience can just about taste the significance and the strain that the characters feel.

While the movie is intense, it doesn't try to shove its point down the audience's throats and it doesn't hammer certain opinions over and over again, which it could easily have done. It's not overly saccharine. It's not overly pessimistic. It's not overly optimistic. I felt it was realistic, that the story could have really happened just as it was laid out.

The editing was very clever, though I thought the inter-cutting scenes were over-abundant. The lack of color, the drabness, the lighting, the pacing; all lent themselves well to the overall impression. The one thing that felt overdone was the music. I know indie films love their soundtracks and love using songs for emotional impact ... but please don't beat me over the head with it.

Another sticky point for me was probably something that I'm just overly sensitive to. Hugh Dancy is an Englishman and Rose Byrne is an Aussie. I'm perfectly fine listening to English or Australian accents- prefer them to American accents, really. But their characters are supposed to be American. New York Americans.

I know I could never master an English accent or an Australian accent, so kudos to them for trying and mostly succeeding. If only they were able to completely succeed, though. I had a hard time every so often when a decidedly un-American vowel slipped in, and that kind of thing takes me out of the story immediately. Particularly Hugh Dancy, who played Adam so well otherwise, had a tough time with the Yankee-speak.

Overall, a lovely movie. I would actually like to see it again, to see what I missed the first time around. It was so unexpected- I didn't read anything about it, I didn't hear anything about it, and it's a small enough film to fly just under the radar.

Still worth the time to seek it out and watch it if possible, which I may try to do again before the very few reels leave this city.

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Summer Lethargy

I can't seem to break the habit of neglecting my blog. I don't know why that is ... it shouldn't be this difficult to update on a daily basis when I sit in front of a computer for at least 8 hours a day.

Maybe it's because I have nothing (nothing) to write about.

Well ... that's not true. I watched "Julie & Julia" last night. I watched "Funny People" last week. I have been going out quite frequently, seeing friends. I switched phones (joined the iPhone brigade, lemming that I am) to test for a month before I decide on my permanent new phone. I've been working (somewhat) and I have a whole new crew of people to get used to.

So why the lethargy?

Perhaps it's because it's summertime. I get lazy and sleepy in the summer, incapacitated by the sun and the endless hours of daylight. It's exhausting, being in the warmth! California's sun is brutal, too, and my computer-screen-acclimated eyeballs are not used to being seared anymore.

I will write a review on "Julie & Julia" soon (or soon-adjacent).

In the meantime, I think I've figured out the real root of my lack of blogging: socializing.

Last month, right around the 4th of July, I decided on a whim that I was going to be social. Not just social, but SOCIAL.

Backtracking ... I am a Gemini, and while I don't believe in a lot of the mumbo-jumbo out there, I agree with one fact: there are two distinct facets to my personality. I am either a recluse, going into hiding and totally ignoring everyone around me, or I am a social butterfly- out every night, going to more than one place per night, seeing everyone I know.

Pretty much all through my stint on "G-Force," I was a hermit. I didn't do much, I didn't see many people. When confronted with change, my defense mechanism is generally to close up and hide so I can watch the changes and figure out my next move. "G-Force," being my first show at Sony, was my observation period. At the end of the show, knowing I would be on vacation for two weeks, I went all-out in the opposite direction.

I thought two weeks would be plenty. I would see all the people that I haven't seen since the end of last year. I would go to all the new restaurants and bars and such that I had been wanting to try. I would watch all the movies I missed. Two weeks sounded like a reasonable amount of time in which to do all this.

Oh, how wrong I was.

I also didn't take into consideration the fact that I would be meeting new people. NEW people. People that I now feel like I should see again. I forgot about that whole "befriending strangers" thing, silly me.

So now I have some new friends ... add a couple days, that should cover that, right?

Of COURSE not. I forgot about the August birthdays and how people like to go out and do things when it's sunny.

Basically, for the past three weeks, I have nothing to show for my life other than dozens of text messages detailing where in L.A. I should be at any given time.

I'm going to try to break out of this horribly vicious cycle (which probably means I'll turn right back into a hermit again) and reach a happy medium (is there such a thing?).

Although, to be honest, once work starts picking up, I probably won't have time for anything but work, which solves my problem for me. Ugh.

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Tagged!

William quasi-tagged me, so I'm being obedient and listing away:

three names I go by:
1. Jeanny
2. 지은 (Jee Eun)
3. 언니 (unnee, what a girl calls her older sister)

three jobs I have had in my life:
1. Rhythm + Hues Studios
2. Sony Imageworks
3. tutoring small fobs English

three places I have lived in:
1. Jeonju, South Korea (born there)
2. Cerritos, California (grew up here)
3. Los Angeles, California (during college and while working)

three favorite drinks:
1. margaritas
2. sugar free Red Bull
3. pineapple juice

three tv shows that I’m watching this summer:
1. Project Runway
2. Glee
3. Triple (트리플)

three places I have been to:
1. Yosemite National Park
2. Disneyland!
3. your mom's house

people that call me regularly:
1. best friend (texts)
2. sister
3. my partying hardy friends (texts, usually drunken)

three of my favorite foods:
1. grilled 고등어 (mackerel?)
2. clam chowder
3. strawberries

three things I am looking forward to:
1. "(500) Days of Summer"
2. chocolate party tonight (seriously)
3. dinner with my girlfriends tomorrow

three people I’d like to see die:
1. That One Guy (naming names would be rude)
2. That One Girl (tempted to name her ... but won't)
3. any child or wife beater

three places I’d like to visit:
1. Disney World
2. Greece
3. Korea

Very random questions, but I like them!

I have been Facebooking madly lately. I think the whole "connected to the Internet for 8 hours a day" thing has gone to my head and I'm just totally wired. After being on vacation and accessing e-mail and such through my phone for two weeks, this sudden influx of wireless communication is too much! I'm drunk off the access!

I also got an iPhone from a friend (he upgraded to the new one) so I can try it out and see if I like it enough to get the new, better one. I don't want to be one of those people that's always on their phone, and I really do not like the iPhone's keyboard ... but it does SO MUCH. It practically cooks your dinner for you!

I have an iPod Touch, so I'm pretty used to the iPhone already. We'll see how it goes and how long it takes before I go running back to Blackberries, crying for a physical keyboard.

Also, I have not had coffee in about a week and a half, and the sudden caffeine today has jacked me up. Whoooooo!

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Summer Soundtrack

When I listen to "The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill," it takes me back to 1999, my junior year of high school. That's when I had decided that I wanted to go into art, shunning math (shock!). I started putting together a portfolio, which meant that I spent endless hours in a studio, drawing, painting, generally cursing my poor decision.

There was a guy in the studio that was really talented (I wonder whatever happened to him?), that everyone admired. We pretty much let him have his way, and his favorite album at the time was Lauryn Hill's. We ended up listening to that CD on repeat for hours and hours and hours a day. Not that I don't like it- I can listen to it now (and still remember all the lyrics) and it immediately makes me think of the smell of Prismacolor colored pencils, rubber cement, and pencil shavings.

It's said that the sense of smell has the longest memory, but hearing must also be up there. Anytime I hear any song from the old 2d-animated Disney movies, I think of how much my sister and I watched those videos (remember VHS tapes??) and how we knew all the songs by heart.

My summer soundtrack this year has been Lily Allen's first album, "Alright, Still." Yes, her current singles are also great, but for some reason, I've been stuck on "Alright, Still." Maybe because I'm just trying to get to the alright phase? More likely, it's because the songs are light, infectious, funny, and even when dealing with something serious, bubblegum-pop at its best.

I just listened to "Littlest Things" and really listened to the lyrics for the first time, and have even more appreciation for the song. Youtube video at the end of the post.


Littlest Things

Sometimes I find myself sittin’ back and reminiscin’
Especially when I have to watch other people kissin’
And I remember when you started calling me your missus
All the play fighting, all the flirtatious disses
I’d tell you sad stories about my childhood
I don’t know I trusted you, but I knew that I could
We’d spend the whole weekend lying in our own dirt
I was just so happy in your boxers and your t-shirt

Dreams, dreams
Of when we had just started things
Dreams of you and me
It seems, it seems
That I can’t shake those memories
I wonder if you have the same dreams, too?

The littlest things that take me there
I know it sounds lame but it’s so true
I know it’s not right, but it seems unfair
That things are reminding me of you
Sometimes I wish we could just pretend
Even if only for one weekend
So come on, tell me
Is this the end?

Drinkin’ tea in bed
Watching DVD’s
When I discovered all your dirty, grotty magazines
You take me out shopping and all we’d buy is trainers
As if we ever needed anything to entertain us
The first time that you introduced me to your friends
And you could tell that I was nervous so you held my hand
When I was feeling down, you’d make that face you do
There’s no one in the world who could replace you

Dreams, dreams
Of when we had just started things
Dreams … of me and you
And it seems, it seems
That I can’t shake those memories
I wonder if you feel the same way, too?

The littlest things that take me there
I know it sounds lame but it’s so true
I know it’s not right, but it seems unfair
That things are reminding me of you
Sometimes I wish we could just pretend
Even if only for one weekend
So come on, tell me
Is this the end?

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Long Overdue...

I'm so sorry, blog of mine, I have been such a neglectful blogger!

I don't mean to be, of course. I didn't mean to be at all, I meant to blog a ton and write up all the places that I'd been over the past few weeks ... but you know what they say about good intentions and hell.

My last day on "G-Force" was July 17 and my first day on "Alice in Wonderland" was today, which means that between the two shows, I had a nice two-week-long summer break.

And what a summer break it was!

Between the three trips to Disneyland and California Adventure, the several news bars I've frequented, the several old bars I've re-visited, and the many things in between, I'm more exhausted from my vacation than I was while I was working!

I went out almost every night in the past two weeks and learned something crucial that I've always known but usually chosen to ignore:

Going out does not equal having fun.

One of the best stretches of time was spent with a friend in the early afternoon, learning to play South Dakota Rummy (supposedly a real card game) at Psychobabble Coffeehouse. The night before, a new friend taught me how to play Texas Hold 'Em (I don't remember how to paly that one, though). Another memorable afternoon was spent learning to drive a friend's stick-shift car (he's still speaking to me, thankyouverymuch) and freaking out when I stalled on Sepulveda. The greatest thing I did? Went and got my hair cut with another friend, who has had long hair all her life. Mine got a few inches shorter, hers got about eight inches shorter. Exciting! She looks adorable! Yummy dinner at an izakaya afterwards!

All the partying and the bar-hopping has become something of a blur to me, not much more than a string of hazy memories. But those distinct events will stay with me.

I am going to try to blog more diligently from here on out, because I think blogging in the past has helped me make sense of things. The very act of putting words down and forming (semi-)coherent sentences forces thoughts to become somewhat organized in my brain first, which I appreciate greatly.

And yes, I did just say that I am working on "Alice in Wonderland."

Also, I am delighted that "G-Force" did so well in the first two weekends! Almost $67 million in two weeks is a great number, and that's just domestic.

Hooray!

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