Saturday, June 30, 2007
Friday, June 29, 2007
writhing
I am in pain. Here's a list of the parts of my body that hurt. I'm interested in seeing how many there are, too.
1.) My head. Apparently because of a sinus headache because after Stephanie left, my cold really kicked in. I take Motrin to relieve the pain. Shame it doesn't really work on the other parts.
2.) My knees. I swear yesterday my left knee hurt more. Today it is the right. It is so difficult and painful to walk. I wish I had a wheelchair. I think it has something to do with my lying in bed all the time. Due to pain and boredom. In addition, I think my legs hurt because this chair I am sitting on at my desk has the most awkward seat. It is raised in the front, and with my short legs my feet do not lay flat against the ground. By the way, it hurts to go up and down stairs.
3.) My heels. I can't really explain this one, but I think it has something to do with my sandals that I wear everywhere. I know what you're thinking, just stop wearing the sandals. But the damage is done.
4.) My left wrist. It hurts the most whenever I wake up. What do I do in my sleep?
That might be it.
1.) My head. Apparently because of a sinus headache because after Stephanie left, my cold really kicked in. I take Motrin to relieve the pain. Shame it doesn't really work on the other parts.
2.) My knees. I swear yesterday my left knee hurt more. Today it is the right. It is so difficult and painful to walk. I wish I had a wheelchair. I think it has something to do with my lying in bed all the time. Due to pain and boredom. In addition, I think my legs hurt because this chair I am sitting on at my desk has the most awkward seat. It is raised in the front, and with my short legs my feet do not lay flat against the ground. By the way, it hurts to go up and down stairs.
3.) My heels. I can't really explain this one, but I think it has something to do with my sandals that I wear everywhere. I know what you're thinking, just stop wearing the sandals. But the damage is done.
4.) My left wrist. It hurts the most whenever I wake up. What do I do in my sleep?
That might be it.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
happy birthday cake?
I just had a little bit of the birthday cake ice cream made by a popular brand available in stores. (You know me, I'm not going to advertise.) Doesn't even compare to the same flavor as developed by Bruster's (oops!). This version tasted like cotton candy. When I took my first bite to determine whether or not I wanted to continue scooping it, I yelped, "Eew! Gross!" But I ended up realizing it was edible, just not that good.
Beware of the mass-produced birthday cake flavor ice cream.
Beware of the mass-produced birthday cake flavor ice cream.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
you say valet, i say valet
I hadn't really watched a full episode of "The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson" (2005-present) in a long time before Monday night. Flipping through the on-screen TV Guide description of that day's show, I saw that he was going to have Timothy Spall on. I stuck around but instead it was Tina Brown. Promoting yet another book about Lady Di. Yeah, so I was disappointed. I am a fan of Spall's work, and to see him be interviewed on an American late-night chat show would have been, in the very least, interesting.
Last night, I was up round that time again. I saw instead that Tina Brown was listed as one of Craig's guests. I figured they must have done a switch-a-roo, so I stuck around to see Craig and Tim chitchat about Pierrepoint: The Last Hangman (2007). (Craig first interviewed Janeane Garofalo because she voices a character in Ratatouille [2007], but they failed to talk about how she put on Colette's French accent, a conversation I would have found interesting.)
In any case, I was left disappointed again. I imagine most of Craig's audience doesn't know who the fuck Tim is, and I would have preferred a conversation that consisted of more than just their discussing how Tim's actor-son Rafe, many years ago, accused Craig of stealing all the good chicken meat when Tim invited Craig to dinner at his family's house. What a cute anecdote they have, but really that doesn't educate anyone--including myself--about Tim as an actor. By the way, they spent a fair bit of time talking about Rafe--how he's come into his own as a supposedly handsome actor--but never once called him by name.
For the record, too, it's pronounced "Pier point." Not like the French. Crazy Brits.
Last night, I was up round that time again. I saw instead that Tina Brown was listed as one of Craig's guests. I figured they must have done a switch-a-roo, so I stuck around to see Craig and Tim chitchat about Pierrepoint: The Last Hangman (2007). (Craig first interviewed Janeane Garofalo because she voices a character in Ratatouille [2007], but they failed to talk about how she put on Colette's French accent, a conversation I would have found interesting.)
In any case, I was left disappointed again. I imagine most of Craig's audience doesn't know who the fuck Tim is, and I would have preferred a conversation that consisted of more than just their discussing how Tim's actor-son Rafe, many years ago, accused Craig of stealing all the good chicken meat when Tim invited Craig to dinner at his family's house. What a cute anecdote they have, but really that doesn't educate anyone--including myself--about Tim as an actor. By the way, they spent a fair bit of time talking about Rafe--how he's come into his own as a supposedly handsome actor--but never once called him by name.
For the record, too, it's pronounced "Pier point." Not like the French. Crazy Brits.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Monday, June 25, 2007
i didn't consent to this
I just saw a commercial for the new wireless network. Instead of giving you the name of the company, I will just say that the one that was absorbed into the other lost its name but kept the Tucci. In any case, they used the instrumental of "Age of Consent." Made me cry. Not because the commercial was good, but because one of my favorite New Order songs was used in a commercial.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
deja vu
Right now, I have "Not Your Average Travel Guide" (2007-present) on. The host is in London. He's doing everything I did with Stephanie in London. He's gone to the British Museum and looked at the Rosetta Stone and the Egyptian mummies. He's gone to Buckingham Palace, but I admit he at least saw the changing of the guard. He's gone to the Portabello Road street market. He's gone to the Tate Modern. He's gone to the pub to tap into that culture [pun intended]. But I must say he said something that offended me. He said that going to the pub is "a very London thing." Right. Only people in London go to the pub. And what about the title of the show? This is the most average travel guide! And no, I've never pretended that Stephanie and I went off the beaten path while in London.
And to introduce Indian food, he interviews people on the street about how multicultural the London population is. Of course that isn't inaccurate. It's just, I've heard this before. I've experienced it myself. Combined, all of this constitutes the first time anything on the Travel Channel--aside from the shows that profile Disney World--has just regurgitated something I have already done.
Let's hope it continues.
And to introduce Indian food, he interviews people on the street about how multicultural the London population is. Of course that isn't inaccurate. It's just, I've heard this before. I've experienced it myself. Combined, all of this constitutes the first time anything on the Travel Channel--aside from the shows that profile Disney World--has just regurgitated something I have already done.
Let's hope it continues.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Friday, June 22, 2007
ink out the prejudice
I have been meaning to blog about this since Tuesday, when the third season of "Miami Ink" (2005-present) premiered. I have watched the show that follows the day-to-day of a tattoo parlor in Miami pretty much since its beginning. It profiles those who do the intricate designs--the five artists on staff--and those who walk in requesting them. Like any show that has a cast of colorful characters (seriously, no pun intended), I have a favorite. But that is neither here nor there.
Having established how far back I go with Ami, Chris N., Chris G., Darren, and Yogi (I miss Kat!), I must address something else about my relationship with the show. I dread the instances when my father may walk in on me watching it. I know. I feel like one of those kids who's embarrassed to be caught enjoying a porno. "Miami Ink" is no porno. It's just because every time my father sees the tattooed individuals, his voice has an immediate and very noticeable volume increase. He sort of whines, threatens to change the channel, and chastises me for wanting to watch the show because he finds tattoos appalling. I guess it doesn't help that long ago, I told him Stephanie and I were considering getting tattoos. (Oh, about that: I have since changed my mind, but not forever.)
I watch the show because, let's face it, it's ethnography. You hear the stories behind the tattoos, people's reasons for wanting to permanently mark their bodies. In this way, the show works to humanize the tattoo, which is an artform, I might add. The tattoo traditionally has been associated with "low-class," "dangerous," and maybe even "delinquent." Thus it once was taboo to have or even know someone who had a tattoo. Only recently has this perception of tattoos--and of those who wear them--changed. I wonder if the show is a part of this movement (for lack of a better word) or if the show is just jumping on the bandwagon of the tattoo being seen as acceptable, respectable, and admirable. And art.
The show even went so far in the opener to the third season to subvert another convention. An active 80-year-old woman who lives on her own went into the shop and asked for an "A" on her shoulder because her name is Annie. Her reason is a little bit wacky (with hurricane season coming, she says, she wants to make sure her body can be identified should anything happen to her), but she said that she has always wanted a tattoo. She doesn't care if her peers don't like it. To make a long story short, her "A" was more than just an "A." Ami added some color to it, red floating into yellow or yellow floating into red. She wanted some pizazz. So old people can get tattoos. I've seen old people with tattoos. Just reminds you they once were young.
A blind man even got a tattoo. An actor, he chose the masks of comedy and tragedy because that is what life is: a mixture of both. He brought along his daughter to act as his eyes, to judge whether or not the design was good, was placed properly on his body, and if it turned out well. His reasoning behind getting a tattoo was: Why should he not get a tattoo, even if he can't see it? He can't see a lot of things; how is this any different? Of course his oral narrative was much more eloquently put. I'm paraphrasing from memory here. From Tuesday, mind you.
So, no matter how much my father bitches and scritches, I will continue to watch the show. I won't let him change the channel. I will continue to try to convince my dad that tattoos are not disgusting. There's a story behind every one. And besides the joke of a man waking up with "Casey" engraved on his arm and his not knowing any Casey, there usually is a lot of thought that goes into the design process. Just watch the show and you'll see.
Having established how far back I go with Ami, Chris N., Chris G., Darren, and Yogi (I miss Kat!), I must address something else about my relationship with the show. I dread the instances when my father may walk in on me watching it. I know. I feel like one of those kids who's embarrassed to be caught enjoying a porno. "Miami Ink" is no porno. It's just because every time my father sees the tattooed individuals, his voice has an immediate and very noticeable volume increase. He sort of whines, threatens to change the channel, and chastises me for wanting to watch the show because he finds tattoos appalling. I guess it doesn't help that long ago, I told him Stephanie and I were considering getting tattoos. (Oh, about that: I have since changed my mind, but not forever.)
I watch the show because, let's face it, it's ethnography. You hear the stories behind the tattoos, people's reasons for wanting to permanently mark their bodies. In this way, the show works to humanize the tattoo, which is an artform, I might add. The tattoo traditionally has been associated with "low-class," "dangerous," and maybe even "delinquent." Thus it once was taboo to have or even know someone who had a tattoo. Only recently has this perception of tattoos--and of those who wear them--changed. I wonder if the show is a part of this movement (for lack of a better word) or if the show is just jumping on the bandwagon of the tattoo being seen as acceptable, respectable, and admirable. And art.
The show even went so far in the opener to the third season to subvert another convention. An active 80-year-old woman who lives on her own went into the shop and asked for an "A" on her shoulder because her name is Annie. Her reason is a little bit wacky (with hurricane season coming, she says, she wants to make sure her body can be identified should anything happen to her), but she said that she has always wanted a tattoo. She doesn't care if her peers don't like it. To make a long story short, her "A" was more than just an "A." Ami added some color to it, red floating into yellow or yellow floating into red. She wanted some pizazz. So old people can get tattoos. I've seen old people with tattoos. Just reminds you they once were young.
A blind man even got a tattoo. An actor, he chose the masks of comedy and tragedy because that is what life is: a mixture of both. He brought along his daughter to act as his eyes, to judge whether or not the design was good, was placed properly on his body, and if it turned out well. His reasoning behind getting a tattoo was: Why should he not get a tattoo, even if he can't see it? He can't see a lot of things; how is this any different? Of course his oral narrative was much more eloquently put. I'm paraphrasing from memory here. From Tuesday, mind you.
So, no matter how much my father bitches and scritches, I will continue to watch the show. I won't let him change the channel. I will continue to try to convince my dad that tattoos are not disgusting. There's a story behind every one. And besides the joke of a man waking up with "Casey" engraved on his arm and his not knowing any Casey, there usually is a lot of thought that goes into the design process. Just watch the show and you'll see.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
i miss my english life already
Today was the first time I actually shopped in a grocery store since coming back. Because Stephanie was here for almost two weeks when I arrived, we ate out a lot and did take-away. I miss that; now that she's gone, I can only hope for a dining out event once a week. I didn't really want to go grocery shopping today. On our way into the store, I said to my father, "I hate this place. I have never liked going to the grocery store, but I didn't hate Sainsbury's. Probably because I would go to the movies before going shopping every time." He didn't know what Sainsbury's was, even though I talk about it an awful lot. But that is neither here nor there.
I'm writing about my first real trip to the grocery store because I experienced some pretty strong counter shock. It took longer than expected because I had to find things, and I didn't know where they were. This is not because I forgot. It's because that store must rearrange their stock all the time. I didn't know my way round it before I left, and I worked there at that time!
It also took forever because I couldn't find foods of as high quality as I would in England. Especially cheddar cheese. Which makes sense since cheddar cheese comes from England, but still. I was so afraid I would have to buy American.
But this is what was most shocking to find out: most of the foods I bought were cheaper in England, even with the conversion rate! For example, at Sainsbury's I would buy three kilos of pasta for 62p. I bought a one-pound bag of pasta for $1.29. The two pints of milk I would buy in England every week cost me only 66p. I bought a quart of milk today for $1.89. The bread is cheaper in England. The salami, too.
Where in the beginning of my tenure in England I couldn't help but double the prices of everything I saw, today I took just as much time to examine the price. But only this time I spent the time trying to find a cheaper, legitimate alternative. I could sometimes, but not all. The in-house brand just isn't as good as that of Sainsbury's. God, I sound like a fuckin' advertisement.
Our cashier looked familiar to me, but I couldn't place her until hours later. When I realized that she once was a bagger and often worked with me because I was a cashier there last summer. I hated that ill-paying job, so don't expect me to don that uniform anytime soon.
I'm writing about my first real trip to the grocery store because I experienced some pretty strong counter shock. It took longer than expected because I had to find things, and I didn't know where they were. This is not because I forgot. It's because that store must rearrange their stock all the time. I didn't know my way round it before I left, and I worked there at that time!
It also took forever because I couldn't find foods of as high quality as I would in England. Especially cheddar cheese. Which makes sense since cheddar cheese comes from England, but still. I was so afraid I would have to buy American.
But this is what was most shocking to find out: most of the foods I bought were cheaper in England, even with the conversion rate! For example, at Sainsbury's I would buy three kilos of pasta for 62p. I bought a one-pound bag of pasta for $1.29. The two pints of milk I would buy in England every week cost me only 66p. I bought a quart of milk today for $1.89. The bread is cheaper in England. The salami, too.
Where in the beginning of my tenure in England I couldn't help but double the prices of everything I saw, today I took just as much time to examine the price. But only this time I spent the time trying to find a cheaper, legitimate alternative. I could sometimes, but not all. The in-house brand just isn't as good as that of Sainsbury's. God, I sound like a fuckin' advertisement.
Our cashier looked familiar to me, but I couldn't place her until hours later. When I realized that she once was a bagger and often worked with me because I was a cashier there last summer. I hated that ill-paying job, so don't expect me to don that uniform anytime soon.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
bor-ring
I can't believe this. I had all day to post something longer than a few lines, something with some actual substance. I suppose this is the reason why one should never write daily in a blog. You end up writing about nothing at the very end of the day because you're too tired, even if something worth writing about has happened.
But I like to keep my promises.
But I like to keep my promises.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
back to normal
I have good news and I have bad news. I'll give you the good news first: I am completely unpacked and my back, neck, shoulders, and head no longer hurt. The bad news is that Stephanie is gone, and I am afraid that her leaving (she's in the air as I write this) is the only reason I unpacked finally after having been home for more than one week.
C'est la vie.
C'est la vie.
Monday, June 18, 2007
not exactly a one-liner
I know what you're thinking: if this post is just another one-liner, then what is the point? It's not as if you posted yesterday. Well, I want to apologize for that.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
another one-liner
The only reason to eat dinner is to seem "normal" because, let's face it, you only want dessert.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
oh what a night
There's a funny story as to why I didn't blog yesterday. The day got off to a pretty slow start because Stephanie and I went to the Hirshhorn Museum and got lost trying to find our way there from the wrong exit at the metro station. We allotted a lot of time to explore there, do some shopping, and eat dinner before going to the advance screening of La Vie en rose (2007).
But my stiff neck (from lugging so much shit on Friday and Saturday) was so painful that we ended up taking it very slowly. We didn't shop. Instead we sat in the Museum's sculpture garden and dozed a bit. My neck hurt so much, but it only got worse right before the movie started.
I'm not going to get into all the details about how much my shoulders, neck, and head hurt. Let me just say that when my father picked Stephanie and me up from the metro station, they insisted on taking me to the emergency room. To make a long story short, we ruled out meningitis pretty quickly. Muscles in my shoulders were spasming, causing the pain to shoot up my neck and into my head. They hooked me up to an IV and sent an anti-inflammatory medicine and some Valium into my bloodstream before giving me a cat scan.
I really didn't want to go to the emergency room. For two reasons: 1.) George Clooney wouldn't be there and 2.) the last time I was in that exact emergency room was the night before my mother died. In any case, I am glad I went. I feel SO much better. I am no longer in pain. I can't remember much of what I said or did last night because of the Valium, but I know I was goofy and a bit delirious.
When I finally got out of the bed (took the nurses forever to come back and discharge me), I felt dizzy. Like I was going to throw up. Went to the bathroom to do it, but couldn't all of the sudden. When I got home, however, I puked. That's the second time I have ever vomited in my life.
Memories, memories.
Hey, maybe we'll finally get to Fallingwater tomorrow.
But my stiff neck (from lugging so much shit on Friday and Saturday) was so painful that we ended up taking it very slowly. We didn't shop. Instead we sat in the Museum's sculpture garden and dozed a bit. My neck hurt so much, but it only got worse right before the movie started.
I'm not going to get into all the details about how much my shoulders, neck, and head hurt. Let me just say that when my father picked Stephanie and me up from the metro station, they insisted on taking me to the emergency room. To make a long story short, we ruled out meningitis pretty quickly. Muscles in my shoulders were spasming, causing the pain to shoot up my neck and into my head. They hooked me up to an IV and sent an anti-inflammatory medicine and some Valium into my bloodstream before giving me a cat scan.
I really didn't want to go to the emergency room. For two reasons: 1.) George Clooney wouldn't be there and 2.) the last time I was in that exact emergency room was the night before my mother died. In any case, I am glad I went. I feel SO much better. I am no longer in pain. I can't remember much of what I said or did last night because of the Valium, but I know I was goofy and a bit delirious.
When I finally got out of the bed (took the nurses forever to come back and discharge me), I felt dizzy. Like I was going to throw up. Went to the bathroom to do it, but couldn't all of the sudden. When I got home, however, I puked. That's the second time I have ever vomited in my life.
Memories, memories.
Hey, maybe we'll finally get to Fallingwater tomorrow.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Sunday, June 10, 2007
is this really home?
I'm sitting in the middle of clutter. I can't concentrate to write a proper post. All I can say is: the state of my room has proved it was well-founded of me to not want to come home.
Saturday, June 9, 2007
waiting to take off
I've already been up and about for two hours. I couldn't sleep last night because I kept thinking about today. You know, if everything will run smoothly. Or, more specifically, if I will be able to manage carrying all my bags. If the people at the airline will accept my bag. I already know they'll charge me, but will my bag be over 70 pounds (because that's the absolute limit on excess baggage weight)? Will I be stuck between two people all the way to America? These are the kinds of things I have been and am worrying about.
My next-door neighbor decided to invite some friends over last night, and they were blasting music and talking really loudly (but I couldn't understand them because, being English, they do not speak English). I remember going to bed at 1.10 am and I didn't fall asleep until after 3.30 am. So I am running on only a few hours of (very light) sleep.
I am counting down the hours until I physically arrive at the airport where my father and Stephanie will pick me up. We're looking at 20 hours right now.
My next-door neighbor decided to invite some friends over last night, and they were blasting music and talking really loudly (but I couldn't understand them because, being English, they do not speak English). I remember going to bed at 1.10 am and I didn't fall asleep until after 3.30 am. So I am running on only a few hours of (very light) sleep.
I am counting down the hours until I physically arrive at the airport where my father and Stephanie will pick me up. We're looking at 20 hours right now.
Friday, June 8, 2007
the beginning of the end (of the beginning)
It's been the longest day. I've gotten a lot accomplished. I've sweat a lot. I've flexed my muscles throughout the day (realized I have them after all). I feel like I am on fire.
I'm exhausted, but I feel the need to write a little something because this is my last night in the UK. I've looked forward to this moment for so long, but now I don't want to go. I admit it's partly because I am tired right now and that I am afraid of Heathrow. But let's face it: I've gotten used to life here. Yes, I know I can adjust back to my life at home, but I wonder if it will be the same as before I left. I don't want it to be because that means that I really have learned nothing, done nothing.
If this experience living abroad has taught me anything about myself, it's that I'm never happy in any place and that I need to move around, see new things (almost constantly). I realize this seems really stupid. It supposes I will never find a place that will make me happy, make me want to stay, though I will act as if I am looking for "that place." I guess I just need to not expect so much.
I'm exhausted, but I feel the need to write a little something because this is my last night in the UK. I've looked forward to this moment for so long, but now I don't want to go. I admit it's partly because I am tired right now and that I am afraid of Heathrow. But let's face it: I've gotten used to life here. Yes, I know I can adjust back to my life at home, but I wonder if it will be the same as before I left. I don't want it to be because that means that I really have learned nothing, done nothing.
If this experience living abroad has taught me anything about myself, it's that I'm never happy in any place and that I need to move around, see new things (almost constantly). I realize this seems really stupid. It supposes I will never find a place that will make me happy, make me want to stay, though I will act as if I am looking for "that place." I guess I just need to not expect so much.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
cannibalism for the stars: coming soon to your tv!
In the celebrity news on IMDb, I just read "Affleck Feeds the Poor." A little disappointed it wasn't about how they chopped him up (in a wood chipper, maybe?) and featured him in a three-course meal. I would have loved to say Lindsay Lohan was the main course, but she's a bit bony. Like little chicken wings. She'd be a starter, for sure.
Who would be dessert? Someone sweet, but if someone is sweet, we really shouldn't eat them. Not because we're worried about cavities. But because we want to keep them around.
In any case, wouldn't this ridiculous and in no way serious story have been more newsworthy (and less cringeworthy) than Affleck's volunteering at a Boston food bank? Yay, you.
Who would be dessert? Someone sweet, but if someone is sweet, we really shouldn't eat them. Not because we're worried about cavities. But because we want to keep them around.
In any case, wouldn't this ridiculous and in no way serious story have been more newsworthy (and less cringeworthy) than Affleck's volunteering at a Boston food bank? Yay, you.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
so close but yet so far
It's all over. Well, almost. That's what I hate about this last week. I just finished my last exam (didn't go as focused as planned) but I still need to work on getting out of here. And the blasting of vintage Celine Dion from the room of the one neighbor I really can't stand is not making me feel any better. It's making me feel worse.
Friday--though it has no exam--is going to be one hell of a day. I've written many reminders/appointments in my diary. In chronological order, I have to shower (of course), have my room inspected so I can get back my £160 deposit (and then cash it at a specific office on campus), do the laundry, pack, meet a prof for a goodbye drink, hand over my printer to a friend/say goodbye, attend a housewarming party for another friend/say goodbye.
And somewhere in all this I am supposed to have a burger at one of the greasy joints on campus because I haven't had red meat in forever. That was the first reminder I penned in my journal. You can see it is very important to me. I just hope I get round to doing it. Maybe I'll do it tomorrow. Oh this reminds me: I need to buy British Mars bars and Milky Ways. And some sort of Lancaster University paraphernalia so I can announce via sweatshirt the existence of such a place as Lancaster University. And that I was there this past academic year.
Friday--though it has no exam--is going to be one hell of a day. I've written many reminders/appointments in my diary. In chronological order, I have to shower (of course), have my room inspected so I can get back my £160 deposit (and then cash it at a specific office on campus), do the laundry, pack, meet a prof for a goodbye drink, hand over my printer to a friend/say goodbye, attend a housewarming party for another friend/say goodbye.
And somewhere in all this I am supposed to have a burger at one of the greasy joints on campus because I haven't had red meat in forever. That was the first reminder I penned in my journal. You can see it is very important to me. I just hope I get round to doing it. Maybe I'll do it tomorrow. Oh this reminds me: I need to buy British Mars bars and Milky Ways. And some sort of Lancaster University paraphernalia so I can announce via sweatshirt the existence of such a place as Lancaster University. And that I was there this past academic year.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
long-term memento
Today, in my boredom and procrastination from writing practice essays for my exam tomorrow ('The Idea of Europe'), I prepared some things for packing. I also weeded out things that I am not going to take. One of the things I am contemplating keeping/giving away is a combination lock. I know what you're thinking: keep it! But here's why I considered throwing it away:
When I went in early April to Manchester and stayed overnight, I brought the lock because I wanted to keep my things reasonably secure in that 10-bed hostel room. I had bought the lock when I went round the UK and to Paris with Stephanie over the winter holiday and never wrote the combination down. Yes, so that means when I got to Manchester, I couldn't open the lock. I thought I had remembered it, but I didn't. It was useless to me then, but isn't so much now.
When I picked it up today, I immediately entered "7-26-34." And it popped open. So, I suppose this means my long-term memory works best the longer the term. I might have a functional lock now, but it weighs a ton. Oh what the hell, I'll bring it home.
When I went in early April to Manchester and stayed overnight, I brought the lock because I wanted to keep my things reasonably secure in that 10-bed hostel room. I had bought the lock when I went round the UK and to Paris with Stephanie over the winter holiday and never wrote the combination down. Yes, so that means when I got to Manchester, I couldn't open the lock. I thought I had remembered it, but I didn't. It was useless to me then, but isn't so much now.
When I picked it up today, I immediately entered "7-26-34." And it popped open. So, I suppose this means my long-term memory works best the longer the term. I might have a functional lock now, but it weighs a ton. Oh what the hell, I'll bring it home.
i don't wanna stop living like this
Here are three more things I am going to miss:
1.) Taking long showers. Because my rent doesn't break down exactly what I am paying for in terms of what we collectively call the "utilities," I can take hot showers for as long as I like. I never see how much they're costing me. And it's not like my rent would be adjusted to how much water I use anyway.
At home, I can't really get away with that. I know my dad hates it when I am in there too long. The problem is I don't know how to take a shorter shower.
2.) Sleeping naked. That's right. I sleep in the nude. But I won't be able to at home because we do not lock our doors at night. And I can't allow the possibility of my father or brother walking in on me while I'm au naturale. It'd be too embarrassing. Like something out of a movie. But I wouldn't want to be in that movie.
3.) Reading the nutritional information pie charts/"traffic lights" on in-store products at Sainsbury's. On the front of the packaging, they always tell you how much fat, saturated fat, and salt and how many sugars and calories there are per serving. It's color-coded, too. Red means high (obviously), orange medium, and green low. It's easy to read and thus saves a lot of time.
But when I go home, I'm going to have to pick up the box and search for the nutritional information each and every time. It won't be staring me in the face anymore, calling attention to my health, and making me leave the product whose fat portion in the pie chart is red.
That's all I have for now. There will be more.
1.) Taking long showers. Because my rent doesn't break down exactly what I am paying for in terms of what we collectively call the "utilities," I can take hot showers for as long as I like. I never see how much they're costing me. And it's not like my rent would be adjusted to how much water I use anyway.
At home, I can't really get away with that. I know my dad hates it when I am in there too long. The problem is I don't know how to take a shorter shower.
2.) Sleeping naked. That's right. I sleep in the nude. But I won't be able to at home because we do not lock our doors at night. And I can't allow the possibility of my father or brother walking in on me while I'm au naturale. It'd be too embarrassing. Like something out of a movie. But I wouldn't want to be in that movie.
3.) Reading the nutritional information pie charts/"traffic lights" on in-store products at Sainsbury's. On the front of the packaging, they always tell you how much fat, saturated fat, and salt and how many sugars and calories there are per serving. It's color-coded, too. Red means high (obviously), orange medium, and green low. It's easy to read and thus saves a lot of time.
But when I go home, I'm going to have to pick up the box and search for the nutritional information each and every time. It won't be staring me in the face anymore, calling attention to my health, and making me leave the product whose fat portion in the pie chart is red.
That's all I have for now. There will be more.
Monday, June 4, 2007
it's about saturday
In the hallway just now, an American neighbor asked when I am going home because we were discussing our last exams. "Saturday," I said. Then she asked if I had been home at all since I left. "Nope," I shrugged. She called me "brave." I hadn't thought about being brave since before I left for eight months. I mean, how brave can I be if she's in a similar situation? So what if she hasn't been here as long. I don't think anyone in her position can call me brave.
But this exchange also represents something else. It was the first conversation that I've had where my answer to the question "When are you going home?" was a day of the week. It's not about June 9 anymore.
I'm so close, but it seems a bit far because I've so much to do before I go.
But this exchange also represents something else. It was the first conversation that I've had where my answer to the question "When are you going home?" was a day of the week. It's not about June 9 anymore.
I'm so close, but it seems a bit far because I've so much to do before I go.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
serial killer
I play the Hangman widget a lot. Should I feel guilty that I didn't feel guilty when the word was "homicidal"? And I couldn't help but notice the connection when the word was "decapitate." Only the head is the last--not the first--body part to go in the game.
"officially" out of the closet: does it matter?
Let's judge the news. This just in (courtesy, of course, of the celebrity news feature on IMDb):
Hyde Pierce Officially Comes Out
Former Frasier star David Hyde Pierce has revealed he is gay, after keeping his sexuality secret for decades. The actor, who played Dr. Niles Crane in the long-running sitcom, has always refused to talk about his personal life, despite rumo[r]s about his sexual orientation. But the 48-year-old has allowed his long-term partner Brian Hargrove's name to be mentioned in an interview on CNN.com. In a paragraph carefully buried in the article, the journalist writes, "Pierce got to Los Angeles in the early 1990s when his partner, actor-writer-producer Brian Hargrove, wanted to write for television." Pierce's spokesperson has since confirmed Hargrove is the star's partner.
This blurb is the fifth news story of Friday, June 1. After we learn that Lindsay Lohan "likes" rehab now. After we learn Paula Abdul is upset that there has been a video leak of her (most recent) meltdown. Stars dealing with being stars. That's what tops the celebrity news. Do I envy them? No. Do I care? Not really. (I say "not really" because if I said "no" that would be a lie; my posting shows that I at least consider whatever the media is telling me I should care about.)
But the reason why I am posting is because I am surprised David Hyde Pierce's "officially" coming out of the closet is so far down the list of important news clips. I mean, when Lance Bass, Neil Patrick Harris, and T.R. Knight came out, their stories topped the news. I understand Knight was practically forced out, and that audiences of "Grey's Anatomy" (2005-present) subsequently felt that they couldn't fantasize about his character anymore now that they know "the truth" about his sexual orientation. (That they don't think they can fantasize about him anymore is BULLSHIT, and another story.)
For all intents and purposes, these guys are has-beens. Knight really never has been (though it can be argued that perhaps the controversy of his costar's homophobic slur is what made Knight). Hyde Pierce was on a popular comedy show for years and now he mainly walks the floorboards of Broadway.
Here's what I am getting at: I think this barely made the news because we've assumed for years that Hyde Pierce is gay. "Oh you are? Congratulations to me because I've had money riding on this. Next bit of celebrity gossip, please." Honestly, I cannot wait until Nathan Lane "officially" comes out.
Hyde Pierce Officially Comes Out
Former Frasier star David Hyde Pierce has revealed he is gay, after keeping his sexuality secret for decades. The actor, who played Dr. Niles Crane in the long-running sitcom, has always refused to talk about his personal life, despite rumo[r]s about his sexual orientation. But the 48-year-old has allowed his long-term partner Brian Hargrove's name to be mentioned in an interview on CNN.com. In a paragraph carefully buried in the article, the journalist writes, "Pierce got to Los Angeles in the early 1990s when his partner, actor-writer-producer Brian Hargrove, wanted to write for television." Pierce's spokesperson has since confirmed Hargrove is the star's partner.
This blurb is the fifth news story of Friday, June 1. After we learn that Lindsay Lohan "likes" rehab now. After we learn Paula Abdul is upset that there has been a video leak of her (most recent) meltdown. Stars dealing with being stars. That's what tops the celebrity news. Do I envy them? No. Do I care? Not really. (I say "not really" because if I said "no" that would be a lie; my posting shows that I at least consider whatever the media is telling me I should care about.)
But the reason why I am posting is because I am surprised David Hyde Pierce's "officially" coming out of the closet is so far down the list of important news clips. I mean, when Lance Bass, Neil Patrick Harris, and T.R. Knight came out, their stories topped the news. I understand Knight was practically forced out, and that audiences of "Grey's Anatomy" (2005-present) subsequently felt that they couldn't fantasize about his character anymore now that they know "the truth" about his sexual orientation. (That they don't think they can fantasize about him anymore is BULLSHIT, and another story.)
For all intents and purposes, these guys are has-beens. Knight really never has been (though it can be argued that perhaps the controversy of his costar's homophobic slur is what made Knight). Hyde Pierce was on a popular comedy show for years and now he mainly walks the floorboards of Broadway.
Here's what I am getting at: I think this barely made the news because we've assumed for years that Hyde Pierce is gay. "Oh you are? Congratulations to me because I've had money riding on this. Next bit of celebrity gossip, please." Honestly, I cannot wait until Nathan Lane "officially" comes out.
the rum tastes really bad
As promised, here is the post about Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End (2007). I was expecting it to be awful since the second was terrible, but I paid my £4 because I wanted to have the memory of seeing the last two in England. I spoil some things later on, so skip over the three paragraphs where the first of the three has "SPOILER" in its first sentence. I point this out because I do not want to ruin it for you if you are planning on seeing the film.
What can I say about the film that has not already been said? Yes, its special effects are among some of the best I have seen, but the film proves that special effects are not enough to sustain an entertaining movie experience. Yes, the thing is very confusing and hard to follow because they must have squeezed seven subplots in. And because the films in the franchise have already been established as moving very quickly through the action, they don't really give the audience enough time to catch up. Some parts I thought were in another language; I really had no idea what they were talking about. Others, I would have to wait ten minutes to figure out what someone ten minutes earlier had meant. On the whole, I understood the film, and they tied it up nice and tight so that we don't need a fourth installment (please no!). Just didn't understand everything as it happened.
It's a bit disheartening that the original scriptwriters Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio also wrote this one. All of the originality, creativity, and spunk of the first has gradually been replaced by pitiful pastiches of the original. Everyone comes off as a caricature of the character he or she played in the first one. The second one was bad, but this one--clocking in at 168 minutes--is much worse. At least you can follow Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (2006). My worry is that Elliott and Rossio turned in a script that had so much going on because they were afraid one or two or maybe even three understandable plotlines would not be enough to warrant a film. Yes, but this thinking has an inverse effect: too much makes producing it and watching it pointless.
More specifically, I found different parts very problematic. The first is what has become of Elizabeth Swann (Keira Knightley). I'm not going to complain that she has turned into a full-fledged pirate. No. That's OK for the story, but what I take issue with is just how much of a sex object they have turned her into. The novelty of course is that she is the only woman, really. The pirates in Singapore even have a hard time treating her like an equal. To make a long story short, Elizabeth becomes the desired of at least five men. I know what you're thinking, there's no cap on how many men can desire one woman, but because she is attacked or gives into them, she directly figures into any physical relationship the men want her for.
First up, you have Will Turner (the disgusting Rambo lookalike Orlando Bloom), her beloved and eventually her husband. This makes a bit more sense than the others since you have watched them grow together since the first film, but that through most of this film Will is very distrustful of her and then asks her to marry him in the middle of a battle, is really quite ridiculous. The captain of the Black Pearl, Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush, the only truly convincing pirate performance), marries them then and there like. (I have more to say about their relationship, but it comes as a spoiler later on.)
There's always been sexual tension between Elizabeth and Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp). Sorry, Captain Jack Sparrow. They kissed in the second film, and in this one they make fun of it. Because just as Elizabeth is leaving to copulate with Will on the beach (how romantic: a line of pirates seeing you off to probably watch from the ship!), she goes in to kiss him, and he says something to the effect of "Once is enough." Ouch!
Then there's Admiral James Norrington (Jack Davenport, the sexiest one in the film) who basically gets no screen-time. Just enough to say that he is on Elizabeth's side. He helps her escape from the custody of the British Navy/East India Trading Company. And then he dies, but not before Elizabeth gives into his fantasy and kisses him.
The pirate lord of Singapore, Captain Sao Feng (Chow Yun-Fat), is also enamored with her. He's convinced she is the human embodiment of the goddess Calypso. He says he wants to make her his mistress, that he hopes she gives herself willingly but if she doesn't, he will take her by force. And this is all after he sort of proved himself to be a good guy. He forces himself on her. To her credit, Elizabeth actually pushes him off her. When he dies, he bequeaths the captainship (no pun intended) to her. Thus she's now a pirate lord.
The fifth man who wants Elizabeth is Lord Cutler Beckett (Tom Hollander). Only he's a little more vague. And nothing develops between them, thank god.
So, they have made a character that was once a bit empowering into one who is trapped by men not taking her seriously because they only want her sexually. I understand that this actually makes it more realistic, but when one of the main characters of the franchise is reduced to being a plaything for the men after having experienced some corset-free action is anti-feminist. They give Elizabeth some room to be herself and explore, but then they strap her down. With all those plotlines, one thing remains consistent: Elizabeth's sex appeal. (Nevermind the fact that Keira Knightley is rather boyish in that she has almost no breasts. She's also got one terrible underbite and eyebrows that are way darker than her haircolor. All those days in the sun, eh?)
Here comes the SPOILER: In case you're not fully convinced by my argument, the bonus scene at the end of the VERY long credits cements this status of hers. But first, a little background info from the feature: Will Turner has become the new captain of the Flying Dutchman, the ship that Davy Jones (the Great Bill Nighy, who has been reduced to CGI) has controlled throughout the last two films. Will has become the captain because he killed Davy Jones. The Flying Dutchman is responsible for making sure all the souls that are lost at sea make it to the afterlife. Will, unless someone stabs his heart that is kept in the chest (hence the name of the second film where Davy's predicament was introduced), will carry this duty out for all eternity. And every ten years, he can come back up to the land (or sea) of the living so he can fuck Elizabeth. That is why the consummation of their marriage is a big deal. She won't be able to be with Will for ten more years.
Anyway, in the scene at the end of the credits, Elizabeth and a young boy are waiting on the same island where she and Will first had sex. He probably doesn't know that she's got a little son just dying to meet him. The scene only shows him pop up from the underworld; we don't see him get on the island and meet them. In any case, Elizabeth has merely become a way for Will and his legacy to stay alive. They have strapped her into becoming a mother. How does she continue to pirate? And do you see how there's no need for a fourth? It's wrapped up pretty nicely. Besides, if they were literally at the end of the world when they fought to keep piracy alive, what new challenge could really match that one? Aliens?
Elizabeth's becoming a mother also reminds me of something else equally misogynist. Elizabeth's treatment is very much like the treatment of Princess Isabelle (Sophie Marceau) in Braveheart (1995). Because Murron (Catherine McCormack) died in the first half and could not provide hero William Wallace (Mel Gibson) with some sons, the Princess carries out this requirement for the narrative, and their coupling even goes so far as to suggest that Wallace's kin will one day take the English throne. Such a shame.
The second problem of this film concerns Tia Dalma (Naomie Harris), who was introduced in the second film as a sort of voodoo guru. If you ask me, her representation is rather racist. She is black, speaks with a distinctly Caribbean accent that no one else does (is that Jamaican?), and is highly sexualized. She is a walking stereotype a la the TV psychic Miss Cleo. But she's also Calypso, Davy Jones's beloved who is trapped in the human form of "Tia Dalma." After the world's pirate lords meet and Barbossa sets Calypso free (their predecessors' council was also the one that put her under this spell in the past), she morphs into a 50-foot woman before escaping as millions of crabs. When the spell is first broken, Tia Dalma is wrapped up in rope as if she is nothing but an animal. And when she is the giant, her clothes are ripped, she screams at them down below but you can't understand her, and overall she looks very primitive but still sexy. I understand that in order for Tia Dalma to be mysterious and magical, she would have to be black. We don't really think of white people as being voodoo gurus, do we? But I just thought the filmmakers crushed her under so many stereotypes that she came off as no better than if she were a mammy.
My third problem is with the British military morphing into the East India Trading Company. This has gradually happened since the second film, when Lord Cutler Beckett was presented as evil because he took over the jurisdiction of Governor Swann (Jonathan Pryce, whose death scene is the only touching one in the third film). Nevermind the fact that they're actually in the West Indies. (Maybe I missed this; maybe they're called the East India Trading Company because they had previously been to the East and had made their fortune there, moving to the West Indies to make more. I really don't know. But they should rename themselves the West Indies Trading Company then.)
In any case, Beckett's more evil in this one because he wants to make pirates, who are bad for his business, extinct. This is the main plot, that all the pirates must learn to trust each other and fight off the EITC. But it really sinks under all the other plotlines so that when the last battle is fought, you almost forget what they are fighting for. It's rather anti-climatic to boot. Plus Beckett is a sort of Napoleonic character because--I love you Tom, but you know, you're, uh, short.
But my question is, what are the implications of turning the enemy that once was the British government into the enemy that is now the EITC? For such a huge blockbuster franchise, it's a bit hypocritical, don't you think, that at the center of the story is an anti-capitalistic message? More than this though, doesn't this imply how corporatized our world is becoming? Soon it's no longer going to be about governments or nations. Everything will be in the hands of the multinational/transnational corporations. Some might say it already is.
On the other hand, I wonder if pirates today use this film as a sort of manifesto. Johnny Depp and Keith Richards, who plays his dad in this one (and not very well, mind you), have hinted that rock stars are modern-day pirates. But I mean: do the film pirates in Asia and Canada, for instance, justify what they do with this wildly popular trilogy? In other words, does the film make it OK to pirate films, especially this one, since piracy is at the core of these sympathetic heroes who are fighting The Man?
There are so many problems with this film (franchise) that if I were to discuss them all, my arguments and explanations would become just as twisted as all the stupid plotlines.
This long blog post has been very unexpected. When Denise met Lisa and me for dinner (where I ate the aforementioned bangers 'n' mash), she asked us how the film was. I told her she definitely didn't miss anything. Later on, she asked again, and I said I need time to think about it, to process it. I didn't think I had much to say other than "it wasn't funny," "it was too long and boring," "it was just ridiculous." Turns out I was wrong.
What can I say about the film that has not already been said? Yes, its special effects are among some of the best I have seen, but the film proves that special effects are not enough to sustain an entertaining movie experience. Yes, the thing is very confusing and hard to follow because they must have squeezed seven subplots in. And because the films in the franchise have already been established as moving very quickly through the action, they don't really give the audience enough time to catch up. Some parts I thought were in another language; I really had no idea what they were talking about. Others, I would have to wait ten minutes to figure out what someone ten minutes earlier had meant. On the whole, I understood the film, and they tied it up nice and tight so that we don't need a fourth installment (please no!). Just didn't understand everything as it happened.
It's a bit disheartening that the original scriptwriters Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio also wrote this one. All of the originality, creativity, and spunk of the first has gradually been replaced by pitiful pastiches of the original. Everyone comes off as a caricature of the character he or she played in the first one. The second one was bad, but this one--clocking in at 168 minutes--is much worse. At least you can follow Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (2006). My worry is that Elliott and Rossio turned in a script that had so much going on because they were afraid one or two or maybe even three understandable plotlines would not be enough to warrant a film. Yes, but this thinking has an inverse effect: too much makes producing it and watching it pointless.
More specifically, I found different parts very problematic. The first is what has become of Elizabeth Swann (Keira Knightley). I'm not going to complain that she has turned into a full-fledged pirate. No. That's OK for the story, but what I take issue with is just how much of a sex object they have turned her into. The novelty of course is that she is the only woman, really. The pirates in Singapore even have a hard time treating her like an equal. To make a long story short, Elizabeth becomes the desired of at least five men. I know what you're thinking, there's no cap on how many men can desire one woman, but because she is attacked or gives into them, she directly figures into any physical relationship the men want her for.
First up, you have Will Turner (the disgusting Rambo lookalike Orlando Bloom), her beloved and eventually her husband. This makes a bit more sense than the others since you have watched them grow together since the first film, but that through most of this film Will is very distrustful of her and then asks her to marry him in the middle of a battle, is really quite ridiculous. The captain of the Black Pearl, Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush, the only truly convincing pirate performance), marries them then and there like. (I have more to say about their relationship, but it comes as a spoiler later on.)
There's always been sexual tension between Elizabeth and Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp). Sorry, Captain Jack Sparrow. They kissed in the second film, and in this one they make fun of it. Because just as Elizabeth is leaving to copulate with Will on the beach (how romantic: a line of pirates seeing you off to probably watch from the ship!), she goes in to kiss him, and he says something to the effect of "Once is enough." Ouch!
Then there's Admiral James Norrington (Jack Davenport, the sexiest one in the film) who basically gets no screen-time. Just enough to say that he is on Elizabeth's side. He helps her escape from the custody of the British Navy/East India Trading Company. And then he dies, but not before Elizabeth gives into his fantasy and kisses him.
The pirate lord of Singapore, Captain Sao Feng (Chow Yun-Fat), is also enamored with her. He's convinced she is the human embodiment of the goddess Calypso. He says he wants to make her his mistress, that he hopes she gives herself willingly but if she doesn't, he will take her by force. And this is all after he sort of proved himself to be a good guy. He forces himself on her. To her credit, Elizabeth actually pushes him off her. When he dies, he bequeaths the captainship (no pun intended) to her. Thus she's now a pirate lord.
The fifth man who wants Elizabeth is Lord Cutler Beckett (Tom Hollander). Only he's a little more vague. And nothing develops between them, thank god.
So, they have made a character that was once a bit empowering into one who is trapped by men not taking her seriously because they only want her sexually. I understand that this actually makes it more realistic, but when one of the main characters of the franchise is reduced to being a plaything for the men after having experienced some corset-free action is anti-feminist. They give Elizabeth some room to be herself and explore, but then they strap her down. With all those plotlines, one thing remains consistent: Elizabeth's sex appeal. (Nevermind the fact that Keira Knightley is rather boyish in that she has almost no breasts. She's also got one terrible underbite and eyebrows that are way darker than her haircolor. All those days in the sun, eh?)
Here comes the SPOILER: In case you're not fully convinced by my argument, the bonus scene at the end of the VERY long credits cements this status of hers. But first, a little background info from the feature: Will Turner has become the new captain of the Flying Dutchman, the ship that Davy Jones (the Great Bill Nighy, who has been reduced to CGI) has controlled throughout the last two films. Will has become the captain because he killed Davy Jones. The Flying Dutchman is responsible for making sure all the souls that are lost at sea make it to the afterlife. Will, unless someone stabs his heart that is kept in the chest (hence the name of the second film where Davy's predicament was introduced), will carry this duty out for all eternity. And every ten years, he can come back up to the land (or sea) of the living so he can fuck Elizabeth. That is why the consummation of their marriage is a big deal. She won't be able to be with Will for ten more years.
Anyway, in the scene at the end of the credits, Elizabeth and a young boy are waiting on the same island where she and Will first had sex. He probably doesn't know that she's got a little son just dying to meet him. The scene only shows him pop up from the underworld; we don't see him get on the island and meet them. In any case, Elizabeth has merely become a way for Will and his legacy to stay alive. They have strapped her into becoming a mother. How does she continue to pirate? And do you see how there's no need for a fourth? It's wrapped up pretty nicely. Besides, if they were literally at the end of the world when they fought to keep piracy alive, what new challenge could really match that one? Aliens?
Elizabeth's becoming a mother also reminds me of something else equally misogynist. Elizabeth's treatment is very much like the treatment of Princess Isabelle (Sophie Marceau) in Braveheart (1995). Because Murron (Catherine McCormack) died in the first half and could not provide hero William Wallace (Mel Gibson) with some sons, the Princess carries out this requirement for the narrative, and their coupling even goes so far as to suggest that Wallace's kin will one day take the English throne. Such a shame.
The second problem of this film concerns Tia Dalma (Naomie Harris), who was introduced in the second film as a sort of voodoo guru. If you ask me, her representation is rather racist. She is black, speaks with a distinctly Caribbean accent that no one else does (is that Jamaican?), and is highly sexualized. She is a walking stereotype a la the TV psychic Miss Cleo. But she's also Calypso, Davy Jones's beloved who is trapped in the human form of "Tia Dalma." After the world's pirate lords meet and Barbossa sets Calypso free (their predecessors' council was also the one that put her under this spell in the past), she morphs into a 50-foot woman before escaping as millions of crabs. When the spell is first broken, Tia Dalma is wrapped up in rope as if she is nothing but an animal. And when she is the giant, her clothes are ripped, she screams at them down below but you can't understand her, and overall she looks very primitive but still sexy. I understand that in order for Tia Dalma to be mysterious and magical, she would have to be black. We don't really think of white people as being voodoo gurus, do we? But I just thought the filmmakers crushed her under so many stereotypes that she came off as no better than if she were a mammy.
My third problem is with the British military morphing into the East India Trading Company. This has gradually happened since the second film, when Lord Cutler Beckett was presented as evil because he took over the jurisdiction of Governor Swann (Jonathan Pryce, whose death scene is the only touching one in the third film). Nevermind the fact that they're actually in the West Indies. (Maybe I missed this; maybe they're called the East India Trading Company because they had previously been to the East and had made their fortune there, moving to the West Indies to make more. I really don't know. But they should rename themselves the West Indies Trading Company then.)
In any case, Beckett's more evil in this one because he wants to make pirates, who are bad for his business, extinct. This is the main plot, that all the pirates must learn to trust each other and fight off the EITC. But it really sinks under all the other plotlines so that when the last battle is fought, you almost forget what they are fighting for. It's rather anti-climatic to boot. Plus Beckett is a sort of Napoleonic character because--I love you Tom, but you know, you're, uh, short.
But my question is, what are the implications of turning the enemy that once was the British government into the enemy that is now the EITC? For such a huge blockbuster franchise, it's a bit hypocritical, don't you think, that at the center of the story is an anti-capitalistic message? More than this though, doesn't this imply how corporatized our world is becoming? Soon it's no longer going to be about governments or nations. Everything will be in the hands of the multinational/transnational corporations. Some might say it already is.
On the other hand, I wonder if pirates today use this film as a sort of manifesto. Johnny Depp and Keith Richards, who plays his dad in this one (and not very well, mind you), have hinted that rock stars are modern-day pirates. But I mean: do the film pirates in Asia and Canada, for instance, justify what they do with this wildly popular trilogy? In other words, does the film make it OK to pirate films, especially this one, since piracy is at the core of these sympathetic heroes who are fighting The Man?
There are so many problems with this film (franchise) that if I were to discuss them all, my arguments and explanations would become just as twisted as all the stupid plotlines.
This long blog post has been very unexpected. When Denise met Lisa and me for dinner (where I ate the aforementioned bangers 'n' mash), she asked us how the film was. I told her she definitely didn't miss anything. Later on, she asked again, and I said I need time to think about it, to process it. I didn't think I had much to say other than "it wasn't funny," "it was too long and boring," "it was just ridiculous." Turns out I was wrong.
Saturday, June 2, 2007
why is the rum gone?
Tired. Been out drinking and eating bangers 'n' mash. Will write on Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End (2007) tomorrow.
Friday, June 1, 2007
it's the little things in life
I was just thinking of some things that will be difficult for me to change once I return to the States in nine days (that includes the day I leave because I will spend most of it in the UK or in the air). Here's a preliminary list:
1.) It's instinctual now for me to walk on the left. Might bump into people more often than usual.
2.) Writing the date. Have to reprogram myself to write the month first, the day second. I think the US should just adopt this other way I have grown more than accustomed to. Everyone else in the world writes the date with the day first, the month second. Having said this, when I read a date I have to remind myself that in the US they mean November 6th, not June 11th by "11/06."
3.) I say "at the weekend" now instead of "over the weekend." Neither one makes any literal sense, but I like the sound of something occurring "at the weekend" in the past. Does it go over the weekend? Having said this, I do not use "fortnight." That's just stupid.
4.) I haven't seen American money in eight months. Because all the bills are the same color and size, I will have to pay extra attention when paying for anything in cash. Would hate to give 'em a twenty when I only mean to give a dollar. Having said this, I miss the quarter.
5.) When I see the prices of things, I have to remind myself NOT to double the number. That is the price. It will no longer be worth twice as much to me. Having said this, I will miss that the VAT is included in prices. I will no longer be able to go up to the register with the exact change unless I calculate and add the tax beforehand, which is not likely to happen. Ever.
I'm sure there is more. I'll keep 'em coming.
1.) It's instinctual now for me to walk on the left. Might bump into people more often than usual.
2.) Writing the date. Have to reprogram myself to write the month first, the day second. I think the US should just adopt this other way I have grown more than accustomed to. Everyone else in the world writes the date with the day first, the month second. Having said this, when I read a date I have to remind myself that in the US they mean November 6th, not June 11th by "11/06."
3.) I say "at the weekend" now instead of "over the weekend." Neither one makes any literal sense, but I like the sound of something occurring "at the weekend" in the past. Does it go over the weekend? Having said this, I do not use "fortnight." That's just stupid.
4.) I haven't seen American money in eight months. Because all the bills are the same color and size, I will have to pay extra attention when paying for anything in cash. Would hate to give 'em a twenty when I only mean to give a dollar. Having said this, I miss the quarter.
5.) When I see the prices of things, I have to remind myself NOT to double the number. That is the price. It will no longer be worth twice as much to me. Having said this, I will miss that the VAT is included in prices. I will no longer be able to go up to the register with the exact change unless I calculate and add the tax beforehand, which is not likely to happen. Ever.
I'm sure there is more. I'll keep 'em coming.
the dark side
I feel as if a vampire has bitten me. No, that doesn't make sense. Vampires come from fantasy land (and not the one at Disney World). For this reason, we don't actually know what it would feel like if a vampire bit us on the neck. I'm sure people bite each other there all the time, but do they have fangs? And if they do, then it's probably some sort of gothic S&M thing. But that is neither here nor there.
So let me explain what I mean by "I feel as if a vampire has bitten me." For the past couple of weeks, my face has experienced having some pretty nice skin. The pimples have been fading away because I finally put Neosporin on them. (God, just talking about my skin has never been this easy.) But a few days ago, two giant mounds appeared near my jawline on the right side of my face, about a quarter of an inch apart. I know what you're thinking, if they are the markings of a vampire bite, then that vampire has got a small mouth.
It's because the dots are perfectly parallel to each other that I thought of a vampire bite. It really is as if one with a small mouth punctured my skin. But I don't feel woozy. I don't feel like drinking someone else's blood, and I'm pretty sure that if I walk over to my mirror, I will see myself. I just feel angry that these have come to haunt me now, just when everything was getting to be so good.
So let me explain what I mean by "I feel as if a vampire has bitten me." For the past couple of weeks, my face has experienced having some pretty nice skin. The pimples have been fading away because I finally put Neosporin on them. (God, just talking about my skin has never been this easy.) But a few days ago, two giant mounds appeared near my jawline on the right side of my face, about a quarter of an inch apart. I know what you're thinking, if they are the markings of a vampire bite, then that vampire has got a small mouth.
It's because the dots are perfectly parallel to each other that I thought of a vampire bite. It really is as if one with a small mouth punctured my skin. But I don't feel woozy. I don't feel like drinking someone else's blood, and I'm pretty sure that if I walk over to my mirror, I will see myself. I just feel angry that these have come to haunt me now, just when everything was getting to be so good.
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