To Cake Batter, With Love...

Legitimate Answer for a Climbing Opportunist

2010-08-15T13:11:00.004+09:00

(I wrote this in response to Sarah Palin's "Legitimate Questions for the President" in regards to the building of a Mosque near Ground Zero in New York City)

Since brainiac didn't specify which President she wanted to hear from, I feel compelled as both president and king of Oscar Country to respond.

"Mr. President, should they or should they not build a mosque steps away from where radical Islamists killed 3000 people?"

Yes, they can, will, should, etc...Is it the best possible place for a mosque? No. Do they have ulterior motives for placing it so close to Ground Zero? Maybe. The fact is, they have the right to do it whether we agree with it or not. And just like the Tea Party and GOP suggest, we shouldn't change laws for special groups.

"We all know that they have the right to do it, but should they?"

It could be a logistical nightmare if you consider traffic in the financial district, but it's their decision to travel well out of their way if they choose to. "Should they" is an inappropriate question when dealing with a persons human and civil rights. "Should" you be able to get book deals and reality TV shows? It's all relative.

"And, no, this is not above your pay grade."

Very funny. Just because you chose to give birth to a child with disabilities does not make you a martyr for the pro-life movement. You have a womb. Do you want power over it, or do you want the government to rent it out to the highest bidder? Sit down and listen.

"If those who wish to build this Ground Zero mosque are sincerely interested in encouraging positive "cross-cultural engagement" and dialogue to show a moderate and tolerant face of Islam, then why haven't they recognized that the decision to build a mosque at this particular location is doing just the opposite?"

It's easy to see this an obstacle if you're plagued with such little vision or short-sightedness. People are angry now. People are intolerant now. Should we all bow to this anger and intolerance whenever it meets us? Isn't it our duty as human beings to stand for what we believe in, as you're doing now? The sooner you stop looking at this as "us vs them," you'll realize that bringing together two of the most polarized religions in the world could benefit a lot of people in the long-run and would have a greater effect on future generations than rebuilding the WTC as some crystal tower of Babel. We have different ideas of what true "strength" is.

"Mr. President, why aren't you encouraging the mosque developers to accept Governor Paterson's generous offer of assistance in finding a new location for the mosque on state land if they move it away from Ground Zero?"

Simple answer: houses of God should not be sanctioned or supported by the state or federal government.

"Why haven't they jumped at this offer?"

Because they know what the state giveth the state can taketh away.

"Why are they apparently so set on building a mosque steps from what you have described, in agreement with me, as "hallowed ground"?"

Who knows. It's not anyones place to build their motives for them. The fact of the matter is, they are breaking no laws. Some consider it insensitive. Some consider this a political or religious slap in the face. What it COULD BE, if we became involved in a positive manner, is a place where wounds could finally be healed instead of simply changing the bandaid in the name if patriotism, Christianity, (insert school of rhetoric), etc.

"I believe these are legitimate questions to ask."

You would.

"- Sarah Palin"

President and King of Oscar Country

Shock Shock Shock

2010-01-18T15:15:00.002+09:00

The Golden Globes--can they be taken seriously? I'm not so sure. They nominate films that have yet to be released (sometimes not even completed), and then force people to vote whether they've seen the films or not. It's truly a media machine (the Hollywood Foreign Press, after all) and I knew that already so why am I even ruminating on it. Anyway, the wins and loses fell into two categories: "we already knew that," and "what the cuss?" Here's a list of the winners and how I fared. Am I now better equipped for the Oscars or am I now more confused than ever?

Best Original Song--"The Weary Kind," Crazy Heart

I saw this coming from a mile away. It's an incredible piece of music.

Best Original Score--Michael Giacchino, UP

Again, not at all surprised. This is one of the most beautiful scores ever written. Fun when necessary, also heartbreaking at times.

Best Screenplay--Jason Reitman, Up in the Air

Well-deserved. His characters were real, the material current and poignant, and his dialogue was inspired.

Best Director--James Cameron, Avatar

What the cuss? Seriously, genuinely shocked. Not disappointed, by a long shot, but shocked. I expected Kathryn Bigelow, maybe even Jason Reitman...but James Cameron. Does this pit him head to head against his ex-wife, Kathryn Bigelow? Is Reitman out of the race? So confused!!!

Best Foreign Language Film--The White Ribbon, Austria

I was sure 'A Prophet' would win, but 'The White Ribbon' was definitely a sister choice, so I am not at all surprised. Both were masterpieces and deserve every accolade garnered.

Best Animated Feature--UP, Pixar

The Fantastic Mr Fox didn't stand a chance. Pixar reigns supreme.

Best Supporting Actor--Christoph Waltz, Inglorious Basterds

No shock there. He will win the Oscar.

Best Supporting Actress--Mo'Nique, Precious

Again, not a shock. She will win the Oscar.

Best Actor, Musical or Comedy--Robert Downey Jr, Sherlock Holmes

Really? I was dead wrong. I need to sit down and watch this movie now. He still has no chance at an Oscar.

Best Actress, Musical or Comedy--Meryl Streep, Julie & Julia

I knew she'd win this even before she was nominated. She will definitely be one of the actresses to beat at the Oscars.

Best Musical or Comedy--The Hangover

(500)Days of Summer deserved it, but I knew The Hangover would win it. Very funny film that is also overrated. But does it have a chance at a Best Picture nod now? Possibly. Wow.

Best Actor, Drama--Jeff Bridges, Crazy Heart

At first I thought it'd be Clooney, but I am glad I changed my mind. Jeff Bridges will win the Oscar.

Best Actress, Drama--Sandra Bullock, The Blind Side

I love her, loved her performance, but really? Did no one see An Education? Did no one see Precious? I am severely confused. Sandra Bullock is now officially a shoe-in for the Oscar and, God love her, she doesn't deserve it. But congrats.

Best Picture, Drama--Avatar

How did it pull that off? I am still super shocked about this win. I would have sworn the Hurt Locker had this in the bag, if not Up in the Air. So much for "Dances with Smurfs" or "Pocaferngully." Take that haters! Now a major contender for the Oscar, will it actually win? Now I'm excited.

So there you have it, ya'll. The winners, whether they deserve it or not. All I know is now I am very excited for the Oscars. It looks like this year the awards are going to spread the love. No more of this Slumdog wins everything crap. I didn't follow the TV awards too closely, but I have to say I am beyond pleased that Toni Collette, Chloe Sevigny, and Glee all won honors. They are all well-deserved. Suck on THAT, Tina Fey!!!

And the Golden Globe goes to...

2010-01-15T13:02:00.010+09:00

The Golden Globes are already here? How did Sunday, January 17th of the year 2010 (wow) arrive so soon? It truly was a mad dash after 'Avatar' opened. Films with Oscar buzz, and several with Golden Globe nominations, began filling the screens--and academy screener copies saturated the torrent sites (much to my extreme pleasure). Because of this dastardly deed I was capable of viewing and judging these films based on my own opinion, not those of the journalists that have lauded or panned the nominees, before said chance was taken away. So without further ado, my Golden Globe predictions for 2010 (I will only cover the film categories, as the TV nominations are usually boring and nominate the same people and shows every year. I'm talking to you, House):

My predictions are denoted by Parentheses ( ), my personal choices an asterisk *

Best Motion Picture -- Drama Avatar* (The Hurt Locker ) Inglorious Basterds Precious Up in the Air

My heart belongs to 'Avatar.' It's a work of genius and has taken film to a new level...but it will not win. Nor will 'Precious,' even though it began with intense praise. It just doesn't deserve to win. The three REAL contenders in this race are 'The Hurt Locker,' 'Inglorious Basterds,' and 'Up in the Air.' Now, critics and audiences alike either loved or hated Tarantino's latest work, calling it too "talky." Nonetheless, it is a master work in it's brutal beauty. But will it win? I'm thinking not. Though Kathryn Bigelow's film 'The Hurt Locker' may have made pennies at the Box Office, it has garnered nearly universal praise over its genius. I saw this film about a year ago and KNEW it'd either be up for best picture or win it free and clear. And then I saw 'Up in the Air.' Simply put, it's a beautiful and honest movie. I loved it. Everything about it. Jason Reitman is a prodigy. So what this comes down to is raw, gritty film making versus audience friendly fare. I'm gambling on James Cameron's ex.

Best Performance by an Actress in a Motion Picture -- Drama Emily Blunt, The Young Victoria Sandra Bullock, The Blind Side Helen Mirren, The Last Station Carey Mulligan, An Education* (Gabourey Sadibe, Precious)

Truth be told, I've yet to find a copy of 'The Last Station,' and I bet Helen Mirren really knocked it out of the park. But until I see it, I can only judge what I have indeed experienced. Sandra Bullock and Emily Blunt did fine jobs in their respective films (films I thoroughly enjoyed). Based upon that, this battle is definitely between Gabourey Sadibe and Carey Mulligan. Gabourey's performance as Precious was the performance of a lifetime. This may be her only chance to win and she deserves to. But then there's Carey, whose performance in 'An Education' was determined, sexy, and nuanced to perfection. My bet is the award goes to Gabourey based on politics. My preference is Carey Mulligan.--This just in, Sandra Bullock pulled off a TIE with Meryl Streep for the Best Actress award at the Critics Choice Awards. Maybe she stands a chance? According to results, both Gabourey and Carey were not far behind. I'm still banking on either of the latter.

Best Performance by an Actor in a Motion Picture -- Drama (Jeff Bridges, Crazy Heart) George Clooney, Up in the Air Colin Firth, A Single Man Morgan Freeman, Invictus Tobey Maguire, Brothers

Let me begin by saying Morgan Freeman does not deserve to be nominated. He's only nominated because it's "Morgan Freeman playing Nelson Mandela." I mean, does it get any more rich than that? His performance was wooden, boring, and bordered on insulting. Tobey Maguire, though genius in 'Brothers,' will also not win. Colin Firth has received universal acclaim over his turn in 'A Single Man' (which I've yet to see), but due to poor campaigning (sad that that factors in, but it does) he'll probably be overlooked. "The Dude" and Gorgeous George will be duking this one out. George Clooney in 'Up in the Air' is at a career high. You understand his characters pains, loneliness, and even eat up his cynicism like Ben & Jerry's ice cream. But it's Jeff Bridges performance in 'Crazy Heart' that is said to be the best performance overall this year. Now that's tough to beat. I am stumped on this one, but I'll choose George Clooney because the Hollywood Foreign Press tends to gravitate towards money.--After Friday's win at the Critics Choice Awards, I am shifting my vote to Jeff Bridges.

Best Motion Picture -- Musical or Comedy (500) Days of Summer * (The Hangover) It's Complicated Julie & Julia Nine

I'm not a fan of Rob Marshall and his films are crap. 'Nine' doesn't stand a chance in hell. Critically panned, it may still have legs to stand on due to, again, the HFPA's love of glitz. 'Julie & Julia' was a fine film, one I rather enjoyed. But it too will not win. 'It's Complicated' is Nancy Meyers' latest mess, but it stands a chance as long as old, white people are voting (the only demographic for that film). There are rumbles that 'The Hangover' may garner one of the 10 spots for Best Picture at the Oscars this year. If that's so, it'd have to win this race. Funny? Yes, very. Best Picture material? Hardly. My money goes 100% to the little indie that could, '500 Days of Summer'--a film perfect in every single way. However, 'The Hangover's' incredible support will probably win it the prize.

Best Performance by an Actress in a Motion Picture -- Musical or Comedy Sandra Bullock, The Proposal Marion Cotillard, Nine Meryl Streep, It's Complicated (Meryl Streep, Julie and Julia)* Julia Roberts, Duplicity

This definitely wins the prize for "Filler Category of the Year." Julia Roberts and Sandra Bullock don't stand a chance. I've yet to see 'Nine,' and it is my understanding that Marion Cotillard has minimal screen time. Though she is an insanely talented actress, minimal time on screen will not be able to beat the juggernaut that was Meryl Streep's performance in 'Julie & Julia.' It's the kind of performance we dream of as audience members. But her other performance? It's really not that complicated...the film was terrible.

Best Performance by an Actor in a Motion Picture -- Musical or Comedy (Matt Damon, The Informant ) Daniel Day Lewis, Nine Robert Downey Jr., Sherlock Holmes Joseph Gordon Levitt, (500) Days of Summer* Michael Stuhlbarg, A Serious Man

This is a toughie. Few to none of these actors have made the Best Actor short-list of any of the major critic awards thus far, so their chances at Oscar glory are bleak. Based upon my own personal opinion, Joseph Gordan Levitt's performance in '500 Days of Summer' was pitch-perfect. Then again, Matt Damon in 'The Informant' was unrecognizable and voters love that. I'd bet on either one, however we all know the hard-on people have for Daniel Day Lewis. Even so, I'm going to bet he's out of the game, as are Michael Stuhlbarg (great in the Coen's newest flick), and Robert Downey Jr playing himself with a British accent.

Best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role in a Motion Picture (Mo-Nique, Precious) Julianne Moore, A Single Man Anna Kendrick, Up in the Air* Vera Farmiga, Up in the Air Penelope Cruz, Nine

Speaking of toughies, here's a category that becomes more and more uncertain as the days roll on. Once 'Precious' was unleashed into the world, the Academy and the Globes should've just called this game over and given the award to Mo'Nique. Her performance was stellar. Again, she'll probably never be in this position again. And I'll say it: she is receiving these accolades for playing a different version of herself. I've been a fan of hers for over a decade, so watching her in the film was really nothing new. She was Mo'nique the monster-pedophile as opposed to Mo' the comedienne. Penelope Cruz will lose because in comparison her role just isn't as meaty. Julianne Moore is Mo'Nique's latest threat. But after experiencing 'Up in the Air,' I'd say both Vera Farmiga and Anna Kendrick give the 'Precious' star more than a run for her money--something, allegedly, that she cannot stop chasing.

Best Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role in a Motion Picture Matt Damon, Invictus Stanley Tucci, The Lovely Bones Christopher Plummer, The Last Station (Christoph Waltz, Inglorious Basterds)* Woody Harrelson, The Messenger

Whoopty-doo, Matt Damon. You packed on pounds of muscle, bleached your hair, and faked a South African accent. You're still not going to win. Woody Harrelson and Stanley Stucci, incredible performances in films I loved. Christopher Plummer, haven't seen your movie. Can you bit-torrent it for me? This award goes to Christoph Waltz. By far one of the best performances EVER on screen. EVER!

Best Animated Feature Film Coraline The Fantastic Mr. Fox Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs The Princess and the Frog (Up)*

What's all the hubbub about 'Coraline?' It was beautiful, masterful, intricate, etc... It was also boring, scary, and almost joyless. It was a fine film, but better than 'Up?' No way. 'Cloudy' should just stay home. 'The Princess and the Frog' was given far more credit than it deserved. I'm still waiting for a character of color to remain the protagonist in a Disney animated feature (for the entire film)--not a set of frogs. 'Up' is the clear favorite here, as it may even make the Best Picture list at the Oscars. However, critics and audiences have been applauding Wes Anderson's take on stop-motion animation with 'The Fantastic Mr. Fox.' Can it burst 'Up's' balloons? No, I don't think so. It's Pixar, for God's sakes.

Best Foreign Language Film Baaria Broken Embraces (A Prophet)* The White Ribbon The Maid

'The White Ribbon' won the Palme d'Or at Cannes last year, but 'Un Prophete' won the European Film Award (Europe's equivalent to the Oscar). Though 'The Maid' was an interesting little story, and I've yet to see 'Baaria,' I don't believe they can hold up against the powerhouses at play here. Almodovar's 'Los Abrazos Rotos' may have a chance, but though he is one of my favorite directors he doesn't deserve the win for this film (a film ineligible for the Oscar anyway). 'Un Prophete' will win because it's a powerful story from a fresh voice out of the new French cinema.

Best Director -- Motion Picture (Kathryn Bigelow, The Hurt Locker)* James Cameron, Avatar Clint Eastwood, Invictus Jason Reitman, Up in the Air Quentin Tarantino, Inglorious Basterds

Clint Eastwood, sorry, but not this year...not for this film. From there it's really any one's game. The remainder are all up for Director's Guild awards, and rightly so. James Cameron has once again redefined cinema with 'Avatar,' and Quentin Tarantino gets better with age. I do believe, however, that the race is between the youngest, Jason Reitman, and the only female on the list, Kathryn Bigelow. 'The Hurt Locker' was near perfect and it'd be great for Kathryn Bigelow to gain recognition for that. On the flip side, voters have been aching to give Reitman an award since he first hit the scene a few years back. In my opinion, they both deserve it. Actually, everyone on the list (save Eastwood) deserve it. Kathryn Bigelow will win.

Best Screenplay -- Motion Picture (Up in the Air) It's Complicated District 9 The Hurt Locker Inglorious Basterds*

How 'It's Complicated' got on this list is beyond me. Also, combining adapted screenplays and original screenplays adds to confusion and an uneven playing field. But we work with what we are given. Tarantino is consistently incredible with dialogue and plot structure, but the lack of screen time for the Basterds in the film of the same name may hurt him. 'District 9' was the most original work this year next to 'Avatar.' Again, I believe, like the battle for best picture, this fight will come down to 'The Hurt Locker' and 'Up in the Air.' In this category, 'Up in the Air' will reign victorious.

Best Original Score -- Motion Picture (Michael Giacchino, Up)* Marvin Hamlisch, The Informant James Horner, Avatar Abel Krozeniowski, A Single Man Karen O. and Carter Burwell, Where the Wild Things Are

This is really a toss up for me. Though I was personally moved by the music of 'Avatar,' it's true when his critics state that he's borrowed too much from past works. Marvin Hamlisch is a welcome return with his wildly retro score. Carter Burwell is long overdue for an award. His work never ceases to amaze. It will come down to Michael Giacchino for his beautiful and evocative music in Pixar's 'UP,' or the intensely moody and seductive work of Abel Krozeniowski for Tom Ford's 'A Single Man.'

Best Original Song -- Motion Picture "I Will See You," Avatar ("The Weary Kind," The Crazy Heart)* "Winter," Brothers "Cinema Italiano," Nine "I Want to Come Home," Everybody's Fine

Leona Lewis' heart will not be going on, nor will Kate Hudson's attempt at singing be praised. Paul McCartney has written another okay song, but again not up to snuff. U2 has written a beautiful song, "Winter," for the film 'Brothers' so there is a definite chance there. But if you haven't heard Ryan Bingham's "The Weary Kind" from 'Crazy Heart' (check it out on Youtube or playing in the trailer) then do yourself the favor and go! A clear winner.

Big. Luscious. Golden Globes.

2009-12-15T22:57:00.002+09:00

Managed to find a live stream of the 67th annual Golden Globe Awards nominations announcement. John Krasinski was lame. Dianne Kruger was adorable. Justin Timberlake continues to become re-whitified (thanks SNL for making him realize he is not in fact a black man). All of that aside, the list looks pretty good. I will have more to say about this tomorrow, as I dissect the list of nominees and form my game plan for covering all of this cinematic territory. But for now...to bed.

PS I tripped up the stairs at work and broke my big toenail off. It feels like bees are continually stinging me...with hot knives. Gotta love pain killers.

Here's the list.

Not Waiting for the Man (but I sorta miss the feeling)

2009-12-08T09:45:00.003+09:00

It's probably because it's cold and dark outside. Maybe it's because times are slow. Nowhere to go. I wouldn't go back there. Even if invited. But I can't lie and say my interests aren't ignited, when I hear these tunes. Make me feel there again. Sitting. Listening. Sliding in...down. Curling up. Then fall asleep.

Joy Division - Ceremony Slowdive - Blue Skied an' Clear Ride - Nowhere My Bloody Valentine - To Here Knows When The Velvet Underground - After Hours Air - Run Sigur Ros - Andvari Slowdive - Goldenhair (Syd Barett cover) The Velvet Underground - Heroin The Velvet Underground - I'm Waiting for the Man

Ode to My Escape

What I’d give, what I’d give To soar once more, on my back, on the floor What I’d do, what I’d do To touch, but not such Who I’d choke, who I’d choke Honey, this ain’t no joke I’m starving for a slap in the face A lazy hand, the whip of the wind And smoke…give me smoke.

Where it be, where is he? So frail…my betrayal. Twenty bucks, twenty fucks He left me waiting, always hesitating. Get some more, little whore That’s really all I want you for Think I’ll beg? I won’t beg But the smell, my hunger Ketchup and dull drying-paint swoon me.

Here I cower, growing sour Illegalities, impracticalities If I could, oh, I would Even though I tell myself ‘no’ It hurts, it hurts The pains, in spurts, From head to feet—bone to meat I miss you…foil and black gum.

My lungs expand for you At your command, they do It’s music that sends me now And teeth bleed dry And hair runs thin And skin grows lines And heart skips on Painfully, sinfully wanton.

Here He Comes Again

Gravitate towards me luxuriant smoke Down my passage of civility Incredulous speech invites you Welcome unwelcome guest

Sear my lining, drown my brain Make me never feel again Numb hairs stand on end You are my dearest friend

Strewn across a couch or bed The floor could never please me more Itching in ways one shouldn't scratch Like the pocks leaving scars when nails become arduous

Cough red smoke, vessels in the air You’ve come undone, inside out Stomach pains, my supple veins A pierce is just too much

So for now, inhaling is how I swallow him Here he comes again In me…in me… And for you, I acquiesce.

I Miss the 90's (The Early 90's)

2009-12-07T21:35:00.007+09:00

It sounds odd. I know. Who could miss dingy flannel, step-cuts, and British Knights? Me. Sorta. I miss the things that comforted me as a young person. Doc martens, beaten to hell after having my parents wait in line for hours to pay over $100 for a pair. Pre-Emo teen angst. Rock with a purpose. Pop with a heart. Icon's like Madonna, Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, My Bloody Valentine. Shit, even Salt-n-Pepa. Spinderella cut it up one time. Looking back at middle school, high school, my early adulthood...there was bliss. There were hardships. Times we as young, hormonal people can't see the end of (like climbing a dome, revolution after revolution, with no end...). I find the world so changed. We are days away from 2010 and I miss the 90's more than ever. There was a darkness about that time. An enveloping darkness that at once caused fear in my heart and resulted in a sense of home. These days people are obsessed with fame. Popular culture has evolved away from the Andy Warhol "everyday but overlooked" and become the golden ring that all dream of attaining. Everyone wants to be known. Everyone seeks fame. Celebrity is available to anyone. Has post-modernism killed "special"? Is the internet the culprit? Remember when MTV still showed music videos? Remember when TRL killed it? It all happened in the 90's. Here are two songs (and a TV show trailer) that came to mind today. No reason. No grand purpose. Just because...they remind me.

REM - Everybody Hurts: This video defined my early teen years. Dealing with obesity, depression, and fear of being outed this song gave me peace. Bjork - Possibly Maybe: This takes me back to my sophomore year. Bjork was and always will be a goddess in my eyes. She will be imitated (Imogen Heap, Lady Gaga) but never duplicated. My So-Called Life: If you are a child of the 90's and didn't have an emotional connection to this show (and didn't cry and want to boycott ABC for canceling it after one season), then we will probably never understand each other.

Go Animate Your Lesson Plan

2009-11-30T05:05:00.001+09:00

My 6th graders had better appreciate this... GoAnimate.com: Bad Birthday by odlugo

Like it? Create your own at GoAnimate.com. It's free and fun!

Charlie bit me...

2009-11-29T13:43:00.004+09:00

...and that really hurt.

I have Big Love for this show.

2009-11-25T09:37:00.002+09:00

My best friend and ex-roommate Tina and I began watching HBO's Big Love together back when it first began. We were instantly addicted. I'm all for polyamorous unions and the story's approach never took itself too seriously. The acting talent is everything one could ask for--I mean, Chloe Sevigny in prairie outfits? Genius. I was fortunate enough to attend a screening of the film 'Nine Lives,' from director Rodrigo Garcia (son of famed writer Gabriel Garcia Marquez) my senior year of film school at CSUN. He is an eloquent man, his feet rooted deep in the ground...a man who deeply understands women. In fact, most of his work revolves around female storylines. Anyway, he went on to tell us about writing and directing the pilot for Big Love. I'd never payed attention to the credits, so I was pleasantly surprised. Gave me more reason to adore his work. It's because he understands women so well that Big Love works. Not only are the plot points completely involving in an infamously exclusive world, but the characters are so real sometimes it seems you actually know them.

Dong Wook and I finally got all caught up and finished season 3 last night without even knowing it was the final episode. Thank God it'll be back January 10th. After Avatar premieres, Big Love is next on my horizon.

These things do happen.

2009-11-25T09:33:00.001+09:00

Last week, a 19 year old Puerto Rican boy who was gay was decapitated, dismembered, and burned. It's still unclear why exactly these atrocities were carried out, but we do know the chief investigator said, "He asked for it." Do you think his mother accepts that reasoning? Please pass this on so that more people can understand what hate creates...and destroys.

What if I don't wanna?

2009-11-25T00:06:00.004+09:00

It's time to make a buck and spend that buck on things that matter. Things that last. Homes. Babies. Furniture that pleases our aesthetic. My family would be pleased. I'd be there. I'd be close. I'd be accessible.

It's time to go back to school. It's time to learn again. Exercise my brain. Get the blood flowing north again instead of further south. Crack the spine of those books. Progress. Prepare. Get that Masters. It's passed due.

It's time to get married. Time to pay for a joint living. Time for health insurance. Time for a car you share. One car. Time to become what everyone is supposed to become.

It's time to face the facts. It's time to wise up. Act now before it's too late. Look at what your friends have accomplished. Did you see your cousins new house? Did you hear who had a baby?

What if I don't wanna?

In my (our) near future we have choices. One major one, in fact. What happens after Korea? Where do we go? What do we do? How do we do it? I'm ready to go at any moment. Let's go now!

Here are some possibilities for our future: a) Move somewhere and go to school, together b) Move to the US or Canada and attempt to work c) Stay in Korea d) Save up and travel the world before having to worry about a & b, because we all know c is an impossibility.

What to do, what to do?

Where to go? Here. This is my inspiration...

Because when it gets cold we cook.

2009-11-24T15:36:00.004+09:00

Latinos love to cook. All day everyday. The only thing we enjoy more than cooking is eating, or forcing other people to eat with us. Most of my favorite Mexican dishes are cooked in the winter time, when the temperature drops and no one wants to go outside--they just want to sit, eat, and chat. My best memories as a chunky little mejicanito were dipping Pan con Azucar y Canela into a warm mug of either Chocolate Mexicana (made with Chocolate Ibarra, of course) or Atole / Champurrado. There's something about the cold weather (as if it got that cold in Southern California) that, for me, has always equated with sweets--sweet breads, sweet drinks, sweet men, etc. I was too young to care much for the conversation of my elders but as long as they kept that delicious, crispy toast coming, and those mugs of thick, chocolaty liquid flowing they could talk all night as far as I was concerned. There was always room in my belly for the savory as well. My family never celebrated Christmas. In my youth while the children around me (my cousins and classmates) received presents to last them until their birthday's, the only thing I had to look forward to were Tamales. Didn't matter if they were filled with beef, chicken or pork. I'd gobble them up spicy or not. One after another, corn husks everywhere. Damn. What I'd give for one (five) now.

Korea as of late is very cold. I could say freezing but that would be an exaggeration. But to my Californian standards yes...my balls have icicles on them. These foods, the idea of these foods, are what keep me warm now--from inside out. Not having them here, readily available to me, is probably more difficult than not having my family. See my mentality? That's a true fatty, through and through. I'll have to make due and get creative. Making these delicacies from scratch could be very well impossible, depending what I can sniff out at the various import stores available here--but I just may attempt it.

There are two delicious treats I will partake in because they are easily made and result in a huge payoff. The first is not even a Mexican dish, it's a Cuban dish called Papas Rellenas (stuffed potato balls). My friends and I would make pilgrimages to a bakery in Burbank, California called Porto's Bakery where they specialize in Cuban sandwiches, desserts, as well as various Cuban appetizers and other popular international desserts. It's by far one of the best places I have ever eaten. Crazy-delicious. Anyway, I am missing these balls and plan on making a batch. Fried mashed potatoes filled with spicy meat? Hello! Can't wait. Along with this I'll pair a very popular Mexican alcoholic drink called Rompope. Plainly put, it's Mexican eggnog that nuns used to whip up in their boredom. Thank God for boredom. The bottle, most popular with a nun from the Santa Clara convent as mascot, reminds me of my grandmother. I recall her reaching for it, atop a shelf, too high for most to reach. She would stand on a chair, still barely reaching. She would pour some for the adults and only a small portion for the children, to taste. That flavor, that aroma, will always be with me. Egg. Cinnamon. Vanilla. Sugar. Rum or brandy. The reason she had it up so high was because it was so good my siblings, and cousins and I would guzzle it down like that yummy orange-flavored Triaminic (remember that? First addiction!). Drunkenness at eight-years-old. That's another thing Latinos love.

The winter is cold but I'm warmer now with my memories; of bread crumbs on my childhood belly, the women of my family gathered together wrapping cornmeal into husks, and my grandma drunkenly trying to place the bottle of rompope neatly back on the shelf.

(Recipe for Rompope here)

Chuseok came and went...like most men in my life.

2009-10-09T16:03:00.004+09:00

Chuseok, the holiday foreign workers love to exploit for its vacation, has come and gone. I was busy helping put my friend Denise as she embarked on a photographic extravaganza. We spent four consecutive days primping beautiful ladies (and a handful of hot gents) from all corners of Korea in an act of momentary-model-mania!!! It was a lot of fun, great money--but man was it a lot of work. I am talking 10 to 12 hour days including my commute. Add into this wonderful mix that fact that Autumn has taken hold and the cool breeze is becoming a cold wind resulted in my annoyingly ill-timed tonsillitis. But it's okay. The week here at work was a breeze. And now it's over and I have the weekend to relax, right? Wrong. The Pusan International Film Festival has finally arrived! All the planning has finally come into fruition and in about 3 hrs I'll be boarding my train down south to experience some great cinema, a party or two, a shopping visit in the largest department store in the world, and a dip at the ever lauded SpaLand. More on all this throughout the weekend if I can, but most likely not until Monday. Until then, here are some pics of the models last weekend. Pictures will be uploaded to the site over time. The Foto Republic is a photography organization founded by photographer Denise Lejcar. Photography courtesy of Denise Lejcar, Makeup by J, and Hair & Styling by Moi

Rememba, rememba, rememba...when FAME had an abortion scene?

2009-09-27T20:29:00.004+09:00

Just a quick one tonight to say the remake of Fame was actually worse than I expected--and believe me, my expectations were lower than what I'd have for a Korean cake. I actually have no idea what the movie was about, even though I know the original by heart. I am still very, very puzzled. What was that movie about? Nothing happened. Occasionally people sang, or danced, or acted...badly. But what was the story? School years passed like a VD during Spring Break, and I have no idea what any of the characters were named. Did I even watch the movie? Did I imagine it? Maybe I fell asleep and was completely unaware. Fame has proven to be an existential nightmare. Save your money, hard drive space, etc... Let's just pretend this never happened.

GLEE has replaced Gossip Girl in my TV-heart

2009-09-25T00:03:00.003+09:00

With Gossip Girl's poor performance at the inception of its third season, my TV-heart felt empty and that void required filling--but not by anything as trite as models that will never walk real shows or designers that will never move out of their parents basements. Then came Glee. You might recall I ripped this show a new one just last week because of its ridiculous treatment of minorities and "REAL 2-D" characters. But I think someone out there heard my prayers (yes, I know these episodes have already been produced, but let me feel like I made a difference) and scrapped all the bad and dragged in a whole lot of good. Thank you, to whomever made it possible, for making the characters real living, breathing human beings with real problems. This is drama. And true comedy stems from drama. From this day forth, I am a full Glee supporter!

Paranormal Activity: One of the scariest movies ever made?

2009-09-24T23:49:00.003+09:00

I'd never heard anything about the film Paranormal Activity before hearing about it while flipping through the Pusan International Film Festival's catalogue, but maybe that's because I've neglected to keep updated with Latino Review for the past week. Apparently some people have seen it...and they were terrified. Even Steven Spielberg claims the DVD screener momentarily haunted his screening room. Man, I hope my apartment gets haunted too. It's not fair!

Anyway, here's a link to the Latino Review article. Can't wait to possibly cry like I did watching The Exorcist, The Blair Witch Project, and Rent the movie (because it sucked dirty homeless dick). Click here for the trailer.

What we can do together.

2009-09-23T20:48:00.005+09:00

Dong Wook recently completed his first draft illustrations for a story I wrote some three or four years ago. The story is called Daredevil, and is written in a children's book style. It deals more with adult issues, such as regret and death, but it reads in rhyme like Dr. Seuss. Anyway, here's a glance. We'll be submitting it for possible publication once we're happy with it. Feedback would be much appreciated.

Super Junior Saves the World!!!

2009-09-23T20:38:00.003+09:00

I've never been a fan of Super Junior, but I'll admit a sauna gang bang with the lot of them would be like babies first Christmas. Nonetheless, here are the boys being rambunctious and smarmy, trying to save the world through energy conservation and song...oh, and the implication of gay lovin.

Hong Kong Disneyland looks super boring

2009-09-23T20:27:00.004+09:00

After careful consideration, and consulting our current finances and saving plan, we've decided that our winter vacation trip will be to (drum-roll please)...Hong Kong. Didn't already guess that from the title? Anyway, so far we've got our tickets booked and we're in the process of scoping out hotels and possible apartments to rent for our week abroad. We'll be there for their famed New Year's eve celebrations, which is super exciting, but sadly we've voted against Hong Kong Disneyland. I bleed Disney blood, but it just looks like no bang for your buck. Even the boring as a night with a republican Tokyo Disneyland looks like a night in Tommy Lee's underoo's. More to come as we lay down our plans.

PIFF: The Verdict

2009-09-23T19:24:00.005+09:00

Last night my boo and I enjoyed dinner with our friend Amy to discuss which films we planned on watching at the film festival. We tried to work it out so that we could meet for meals and share our film-viewing experiences, since our core lists were quite different. This morning was truly a rude awakening. Tickets went on sale at 9am. Dong Wook sat ready to go at some PC room, while I sat in my office trying to work...on biting my nails off from the anticipation. 9:30 passed and still no call, so I went ahead and phoned DW. No answer. I figured he was paying for the tickets or something. Then Amy Skype'd me with the bad news: she only managed 3 of her 8 films. Immediately I felt all was lost. We were going to end up seeing 'The Proposal' or insert cheesy movie title. That's when my phone began to jiggle. It was DW. We'd managed 3 out of 5 films, but he did think quickly and immediately purchased 1 of our back-up film choices. The kick in the cooter was that we didn't manage tickets to two of the films we looked forward to the most: Trick'r Treat and Air Doll. Doesn't matter. In the end, we'll be (hopefully) enjoying the celluloid-excellence of the following films:

City of Life and Death (Nanjing! Nanjing!)
Balibo
Paranormal Activity
Anita

I hadn't mentioned Balibo in my previous post, so here's the trailer. I hope they spread the Aussie on thick...like Kath & Kim but with Indonesians and guns.

PIFF: My Dream Screening Schedule

2009-09-20T12:24:00.006+09:00

The Pusan International Film Festival is supposedly the most influential film festival in all of Asia. I've been once before and it was quite a time. It's odd how the very Korean town of Busan, which meets the sea at the south of the peninsula, seems very much European whenever the film festival rolls around. The beach is lit up, the glitterati are abundant, and the endless train of banners and movie posters lining the boardwalk give it a very Cannes feel. That's why this year Dong Wook and I will take the midnight train to Busan to give 'Korean Cannes' another whirl. Upon first glance of this year's program, let's just say I wasn't exactly sleeping in line for tickets. The line-up seemed "fine"...and as anyone in the industry knows, "fine" is not the most welcoming word. After a few days of really giving the endless lists of synopses their due, it was to my surprise that there were some real gems in there that my judgmental eyes failed to notice. With that, I now present to you (all three of you) my hopeful list of films to view, granted I can snag some tickets (complete with trailers!):

Friday, October 9th

Trick'r Treat - Produced by Bryan Singer and directed by Michael Dougherty, this darkly comedic horror film follows four stories on Halloween night: a high school principal who moonlights as a vicious serial killer, a young virgin whose quest for that someone special takes a gruesome turn, a group of teens who carry out a cruel prank with disastrous consequences, and a cantankerous old man who battles a mischievous trick-or-treating demon. I hope this is as crazy as it looks. Not usually a horror fan, but this looks like the perfect midnight movie...which is the hour it is playing. Starring Anna Paquin.

Saturday, October 10th

City of Life and Death - A film depicting the invasion, destruction, and massacre of Nanking by

Japan. The death-toll has never been confirmed, though it is believed that upwards of 300,000

people may have been massacred there. This film, judging only by its trailer, captures the

essence of the time, the horror of the atrocities, and the black and white film stock sends chills

down my spine. This is the one film this year that I am (forgive my phrasing) dying to see.

Air Doll - A Japanese film, directed by Kore-Eda Hirokazu, about a blow-up sex doll that comes

to life much to her owners surprise. She must learn to understand what having a soul is. Looks

quirky, cute, and could either be ridiculously bad, or heart-warmingly good.

Mai Mai Miracle - I know little about this film except that it's of a young girl with a funny curl

on her forehead who daydreams about the past. For now, it's this and the beautiful animation

that has convinced me to see it.

Sunday, October 11th

Paranormal Activity - This trailer speaks for itself. Oh mama, I wish this were playing late at

night!

Now, the next two films I have to choose between. They are in two completely different areas

of the city, yet they both interest me intensely. I know one will be more accessible to my in the

future, but which would I enjoy best as a closing film to my Pusan experience? Can you help me

decide? I'm hung up.

Mary & Max - This is the story of two very different pen-pals living in two completely different

worlds. It seems so incredibly charming, and I live and breath for animation...so it's difficult for

me to even consider passing this up (and the voice of Toni Collette, Eric Bana, and Philip

Seymour Hoffman?).

Anita - This is the only Spanish-language film on my list (slim pickin's) but man does it look like

a good one. The film focuses on the character of Anita, a young woman with Down syndrome,

who enjoys a life of happy routine. After a bomb explodes outside her shop, she wanders and

becomes lost, losing her routine and herself in the process? Will she be forever lost? This film

looks incredible in every way possible. The cinematography is gorgeous, the acting already

looks superb, and something tells me the story is a gem waiting to be discovered. To see or not

to see...that is the question.

So that's it. My list. I am now officially excited about this.

Miss Li: Oh Boy! Where have you been all my life?

2009-09-20T12:15:00.003+09:00

While scouring through Youtube for film trailers, I came across this little ditty. Miss Li is a singer/songwriter from Sweden whose songs have appeared on shows such as Weeds, and the ever annoying Grey's Anatomy. I hope ABC and Apple don't rape her music and cause her to become the next Moby or Sarah Bareilles. As for now, me likey oh so much.

RODARTE: Queens of Thrash

2009-09-20T11:44:00.003+09:00

Kate and Laura Mulleavy are young, brilliant, and are not afraid to portray their twisted view of our future yet to come. Their future is not full of colorless smocks, tin-wear, or neon. These queens of thrash see chaos and beauty colliding in our future to create something wild and vibrant--clothing that not only covers us...but defines us. Call it tribal-chic, pretty-messy, or an inspired attack at the fabric store--ultimately we have one thing...a masterpiece.

Ready to 'SMIZE'?

2009-09-19T11:53:00.003+09:00

If you haven't already read about it, Tyra went off the Banks-Crazy chart the other day on ANTM. This video really does speak for itself.

Tiny Tim would be proud...and possibly turned on.

2009-09-19T11:24:00.002+09:00

This girl melted my heart.

The "Reality" of Teaching

2009-09-18T14:50:00.011+09:00

There happens to be a lot of downtime in the closing hours of my workday. The classes have been taught, the children shuffle away to their dark little corners to torture small animals or go off to continue learning at some form of after-school program. But it's only 2pm and my "day" ends at 4:30pm...what to do? I may be in Korea, far, far away from my home in California--but best believe I still get my TV fix thanks to the various joyfully illegal Internet sites offering up today's best and worst (aka BEST) shows the networks and cable channels have to offer. Shows I have been following recently are: Glee, Hung, Gossip Girl, Project Runway, Models of the Runway, America's Next Top Model, and Top Chef. Admittedly, my guilty favorites tend to be the terrible reality shows that relentlessly attempt to spice things up with every passing season (or "cycle"), but are usually just the same ridiculous fare...that I happen to drool over at my desk. Today in particular I feasted on the likes of Top Chef season 6, and America's Next Top Model cycle 13. Top Chef never ceases to make me hungry, but more importantly I wholeheartedly believe it makes me a better cook. I don't necessarily learn any technique from it, as anyone who watches knows they don't focus on that. What it does is inspire me to try new things and mix and match flavors that maybe I wouldn't have had the moxie to toss together to begin with. It's also my kind of sports show; almost like watching skilled athletes flexing their muscles. Ultimately, it comes down to the fact that it's a show about food. Did you see my blog title? I was sort of bummed this week to see my delicious French morsel, Mattin, get the boot. He deserved it, no doubt, but I will miss his playful smirk and gorgeous teeth. Sigh. Au Revoir, hermosura de mi vida.

Speaking of beautiful people, ANTM cycle 13 is full of them in a whole new pint-sized package. Not one single model is over 5'7 this time around. I suppose it was imperative that Tyra force us to become interested again. We all know that the show never produces any super models, though it does produce working models (who can be caught from time to time on the runways, from New York to Boise). It's not the show itself, however, that I'd like to speak about. If anyone else caught last nights show, you may have noticed Tyra acting...well, crazy. Tyra? Crazy? How? Yes, Tyra has managed to out-crazy even herself. For some reason that will forever evade me, Tyra chooses to make a fool of herself on as many episodes as possible with every cycle that passes. I'm convinced she is done trying to trump Oprah and has moved onto trumping herself. On this fine episode, she appears as a sheepish, meek woman partaking in a photo shoot with a Napoleonic photographer. When she can't takes no mo', she strips down to reveal a cape and becomes (wait for it...wait for it...)...SUPER SMIZE!!! Yes! She can crush the runway with a single stomp, and phase away her opponent's with a single smize! Just in case you're unsure, to "smize" is to smile with ones eyes. Oh Tyra. Tyra, Tyra, Tyra. I'd love to join your writing team. I too can be a yes man! My first contribution: Tyra Banks is NARCISILLA! She needs to shut it down. Shut it down!

"Why ain't you smizin', gurr?"

Band of Brothers: Just for dudes?

2009-09-17T22:11:00.006+09:00

This one will be short...it's really more of a thought. I'm currently watching 'Band of Brothers,' the incredible HBO miniseries about Easy Company--a platoon of men battling World War II in Europe. This show was an instant favorite of mine and I never missed an episode while it was on, and watch it every time it's on cable. The writing is exactly as it should be--smart, harsh when it demands it, and subtle or tender when necessary. These are characters that anyone who's had the pleasure of experiencing this miniseries will never forget. But I can't help but wonder...is 'Band of Brothers' just for dudes? Traditionally, men seem to love war. Not necessarily the real thing (not all the time, anyway), but movies or other forms of entertainment dealing with the theme. I myself have always had a deep interest in World War II history, so much so that I've visited three concentration camps and have taken the 8-hour walking tour of Berlin. But is this something women can get into? There's no doubt the piece is a work of art, but do they get it? Does the theme of fraternity cross no-man's-land over to estrogen territory? In contrast, there are incredible films that garner mostly a female (and gay) audience, for example, 'Pride & Prejudice.' It does fall neatly into the "chick-flick" milieu, but it is one of the greatest films I've ever seen (the Joe Wright version). Do men understand it's greatness? Not so sure about that. Anyway...I was just wondering. Ladies: does 'Band of Brothers' make you weep like a child as it does us men?

Seriously, GLEE is UGLY BETTY with singing.

2009-09-17T21:40:00.003+09:00

Over the past couple of weeks I've been trying to understand and accept the craze over FOX's newest show, GLEE--a show centered around a high school show choir. Now I was a member of a show choir in high school and those were some of the greatest moments of my high school career. Most of my show choir friends are embracing the show with open jazz hands...but I just can't muster up the same enthusiasm. Like most shows today, they are trying to appeal to too many markets. They want to please the gays because they know a gay fanbase is incredibly loyal, so they added gay characters that resemble people I've never met in my entire life as a butt-plugger. Then of course there's the black girl who can 'Sang.' It's episode three and they've already referred to her as Effie White (of 'Dreamgirls' fame). She finally got a full solo, and it dealt with vandalism brought on by her broken-heart. Mind you, her heart was broken by her gay friend who doesn't love her. This gay character, again, is so gay he shines brighter than Rudolph's puckered cherry. So, apparently the black girl is also gullible. Let me also mention that the only other gay character with screen-time was fired from his teaching position for lewd conduct with students. Classy as ever, FOX. There's a throw-away character in both the Asian girl, and a handicap young man in a wheelchair. They're there, of course, to fulfill the stock needs of the show--not mention to meet the "we're offensively edgy" quota of jokes the show tends to favor. The show does, however, focus on the choir coach, a handsome white man, and two high school students, also good-looking and white. They did throw us ethnic folk a bone by making them brunettes, however, so let me give credit where credit is supposedly due. After perusing Google, I found that the female character is actually of Spanish-Italian descent. Not a lick of Caucasian. You'd never know the way she's portrayed in the show. I guess a Latina would've tipped the scales a bit too much. The buttercream frosting on top is the fact that several of the songs in their repertoire range from hip-hop to R&B. Quite a wide-range, I know. What bugs me about this is, who gets to cover these songs? The white characters. Call me crazy, but it's this millennia's minstrel show. I'm not saying that one ethnic group owns any particular kind of music...it's all in the execution. Seriously, all they're missing is black face. They did manage to sing the karaoke-anthem, "Don't Stop Believin," by none other than Journey, which I'm sure just puts the cherry on top for suburban middle-agers recounting their heyday in the 80's. All in all, everyone can in fact sing. Some are stronger than others, and stock or not the characters are fun but embody the depth of a koi pond. My hope is that the show stops trying so hard. The material is there, so why on earth muck it up? With 'Glee,' you have every high school stereotype smothered in hip gravy. It's 'High School Musical' for psuedo-edgy people. It's so broad it doesn't need shoulder pads--but it wears them anyway. White suburban kids singing R&B songs just isn't cool. Doesn't anyone understand that? Justin Timberlake was an accident.

Almodovar makes me wet.

2009-09-16T21:19:00.005+09:00

Seriously. The man knows his way around my twat. After thoroughly enjoying (but not loving) Los Abrazos Rotos, his newest film, Dong Wook and I broke out some of his more recent masterpieces. Though La Mala Educacion is indeed a masterpiece, it's definitely darker than I like my Pedrito to be. I prefer him at his joyfully campiest, such as my all-time favorite Todo Sobre mi Madre. La Agrado, Manuela, and me...Huma Rojo--does it get any better than trannies and pregnant nuns? Dong Wook enjoyed Hable con Ella the most, which I was happy to see. I've never seen a more masterful work where two of the protagonists are in comas. You'll laugh, you'll cry, blah, blah, blah. I want to introduce him to some of Almodovar's older work so that he can understand the trajectory of his work. For now, however, we're going to try and find Volver on DVD. It's around here somewhere. To round things up I just want to comment on Penelope Cruz's sudden hottness. I never thought she was more than merely attractive before Volver. And go figure, it wasn't a fluke! Vicky Christina Barcelona, Los Abrazos Rotos--HOT!!! She has officially topped my 'Chicks I'd Do' list...and as anyone who knows me would know--that list is incredibly short (Scarlett Johansson, and Natalie Portman).

When the snow falls, I fly...

2009-09-16T20:48:00.006+09:00

Get me the heck out of Korea when winter hits. It gets colder than a meat locker, without the wonderful smell of carcass. This year is a bit different than others, in regards to vacation time, thanks to our good friend swine flu. A well known fact in Korea to most foreign teachers is that we're not to leave the country unless we complete a 7-day quarantine upon return to Korea. Now, this may seem odd or inconvenient--and it is. However, it does serve a purpose and in a way lengthens our vacation by 7-days, which is fantastic. We are, after all, public servants and spend most of our time around children. Because of this we must take precautions to try and ensure not only our own health but the health of the more susceptible children. Though some of us may understand the reasoning it is a bit of a wrench in the proverbial gears. In the good old days we were able to travel during the Chuseok (Thanksgiving) holiday. This year, we may not because there's not enough time for quarantine. So we must be patient and travel to far off lands in the winter. I'm cheating a bit and Dong Wook and I have planned a trip to Busan for the first weekend of October. We'll be attending Asia's foremost film festival, the Pusan International Film Festival. We didn't manage to snag a fancy-schmancy hotel as we wanted, but we did manage lodging and train tickets at a modest price. This will tide us over (or so is our hope) until good ol' winter rolls around (how I dread you bitter cold). Keeping things bright and happy, I was welcomed with the news that my vacation runs from Christmas day to January 31st. Quite a sizeable vacation...but where to go? The choices are seemingly endless. I mean, I can afford for my boyfriend and I to go virtually anywhere. The only trouble is we don't want to spend our entire nest egg on yet another trip. Also, if we choose a less expensive area of the world (ie. South-East Asia) we can presumably stay longer and still save money. On the other hand, who wants to spend 2-weeks fearing tranny pick-pocketing and tummy-typhoon when we could spend a week getting our nails filed and culture polished in Europe? So, I may be jumping the gun a bit, but I'm a planner--what can I say? So far the list reads as such: Oahu, Osaka, Cambodia, Paris, Barcelona, Malaysia, and the Philippines. What to do, what to do? Sun and beaches on the cheap, or pretty cold in some of the most beautiful cities on earth? Grrr and harumph...

Good News

2009-08-28T14:13:00.004+09:00

AOL news has to be the worst thing ever. It's terrible. But a few times a week they'll toss some tender morsels my way. Such as these: I loved her skanny, I loved her chonky, and now I love her for making a comeback: http://tinyurl.com/km8jkz --Phylicia Rashad, get it gurl!!! And ladies, even if yo man cheats...never, I repeat, never make him do this. It's reflects more poorly upon you than it would him: http://tinyurl.com/n5jrgh --White people are funny. Let me mimic what others have already harped on about: Heidi Montag? Seriously? Why do I even know this persons name? Anyway, here's Anderson Cooper tearing her a new one: http://tinyurl.com/nzb3z2 --Again, white people are funny.

The Trip: Destination

2009-08-28T09:41:00.010+09:00

I'm a lazy blogger, blah, blah, blah. Taking into account how busy my vacation was, this blog has been abandoned for three weeks now. Our trip to California was nothing short of glorious. Though we did not eat all of the foods we would have wanted, or seen all the things we would like to have seen, it was an action-packed, non-stop, thigh-muscle spasm inducing thrill ride! I won't go on and on about every detail, because frankly it's boring. Touching upon a few points of interest wouldn't hurt, though.

Seeing my family is always a liberating experience. I feel so free to be myself and still, at my age, I feel completely protected. My family can kick your families ass all the way to Echo Parque, ese. There was minor drama, which I both expect and enjoy dipping into to remain relevant, but it brushed away as quickly as it came. My fiance was even given the chance to meet my grandfather, the last of my grandparents. The gathering was quiet but honest. Watching my parents, sisters, aunts, nieces--family--with my fiance was a thing to behold. There was no handling with kid gloves or stand-offedness on anyone's part. It was open. It was welcoming. It was comfort and acceptance at its deepest and most meaningful. This is why I love my family...and it's obvious they love us, too. Was it difficult to leave again? How do you say goodbye to Paris only to return to Detroit?

Missing my high school reunion proved to be a wise decision. After all, aren't reunions glorified pissing contests where no one cares how many children you have, or what the past ten years of education and/or life-experience have taught you; they want to know if you have ugly, stupid children that their kids will ultimately rule, and if you've been laid off from the graveyard shift at the Circle K while they enjoy careers selling homes to people who can't afford it...like you. Is this a bleak view of what should be considered a joyous occasion? Yes. But my bleak views are usually right. That being said, there are the few, the platoon, the ones who did in fact impact your formative years...your friends. Have you seen them? Have you kept in touch? Do you live mere miles away and only see them, by chance, across the intersection waiting for the light to turn green and hope that they glance in your direction so that you can feel caught up? Thank goodness for Facebook, right? Yes...when put to good use. This is what we did. Utilizing Facebook, and the sea of familiar faces out there in its cyber clutches, I managed to gather a group of twenty or so of the people with whom I shared up to seventeen years of memories with out of my young life for dinner. Three hours from one day out of over a decade. It began with one, my dear friend Arika--the pregnant at the time beauty who I hadn't seen in about nine years. Then came Brandon, Annique, and the list rolled on. Most people I hadn't seen since I was a morbidly obese teenager. As we sat at the dinner table that, much to the chagrin of the management, kept growing there was an energy of comfort and ease...and smiles. So many smiles. This is the polar opposite experience I would have expected from the frozen, perfectly plastic name-tagged version of a reunion which had been formerly produced by everyone's favorite beauty queens. Bodies floated, food was shared, no one kept still for too long because there were too many people we actually cared about that required face time. Three hours...this is what we allotted to ourselves. Reality states that it'd be impossible to maintain each and every one of these friendships on any level other than casual, given to account that there are children to be tended to, careers to sustain, and countless other "adult" requirements to fulfill--however, this handful of hours were ours to gloat, to share, and to remember why we'd ever become friends in the first place. It was magic. The best kind.

Visiting home this time would take on a new meaning. Since I was not coming alone, bringing the most important person in my life to the places where I grew up as a child and as a young adult, I made the conscious decision to view these relics of my past in a new light--in a way I hadn't viewed them in so long...as a tourist. We spent day after day scouring San Diego and all it had to offer, from Balboa Park to Pacific Beach. If we didn't have the time to do at least we saw. We did manage to take a day aside for a gay couples outing with two of my favorite women, Juliet and Becky. They treated us to a day at the world famous San Diego Zoo--one of my favorite places on earth. The animals flocked towards us all day, for some odd reason. Maybe they knew I loved them. Who knows. We were also introduced to the new baby in their life--their home. One dreams of owning such beauty. Lord knows I do. But not just yet. I introduced my fiance to as many corners of my former world as possible. Was this for his enjoyment, his enrichment? Was this my way of absolving myself from my past by turning those dark corners into bright new ones by seeing them not as I once did but now through his new eyes? Or, was this tour of my city a way for him to understand me better? Understand why I am the way I am. All of the above, albeit some more conscious than others (until now). Watching him react to the most inane of things dragged me out of my jaded cocoon and peeled the calloused layer off my eyes and allowed me to enjoy San Diego in a whole new way. I was happy that he was happy. Mostly, my happiness relies upon his own, and of this I am not ashamed but honored. San Diego is a beautiful city.

Though San Diego is my cradle of life and contains my strongest connection to the west, my family, Los Angeles peaked my interest most. I hadn't seen LA as a tourist for over six years now, and within that span of time Los Angeles had gone in my mind from a wonderland of newness and possibility to a mecca of hurt. I'd experienced so much darkness there. So much light, but so, so much darkness. Seeing LA through Mickey Mouse sunglasses was exactly what I needed to finally exorcise me of my past. We stayed with my ever reliable and beloved friend Tina, who was along with us for the ride as we visited popular tourist sites that she as a resident doesn't even patronize. We were also lucky enough to spend an evening with Chris, one of the few people in my life who was pivotal in my acceptance of who I am. We shared tapas in Santa Monica and then a walk on the pier at night. My fiance had only seen it in films before. Isn't it exhilarating to make a memory somewhere you'd formerly only known on celluloid? After visiting the likes of the La Brea Tar pits (incredible), an exhibit on contemporary Korean artists at the LACMA (awe-inspiring), the farmers market, the Prada flagship store, and viewing two superb films in the city that funded them (500 Days of Summer, and District 9) we were ready to leave LA for our final major destination of the trip: Disneyland.

Where do I want to get married? Disneyland. Lay the judgment on me like coats at a party, but that will not sway me. Where else does magic and fun revert even the coldest of people to their childhood (except maybe Disney World)? I am a grown man, still growing, and welcome each year openly. Yes, I be one of the few who actually enjoys the wonder that is aging. Yet I am infused with new life with the youthful, innocent, whimsical fare that animation have to offer. I love Disney. I love cartoons. I love toys and playing with them. Disneyland is one huge playground for literally people of every age. In this place my fiance and I walked hand in hand and surprisingly were never looked upon with a sour glance, or treated with ill-will. In this place, the populous are hopped-up on sugar, on adrenalin--high on memories and flashbacks of innocent times when ticket prices were reasonable and the Hall of Presidents was still 'whites only.' Store attendants gave us pins to commemorate our anniversary, and our day was thus filled with well-wishes from Disney staff and strangers alike. A woman, busy tending to her child in his stroller, offered to take our picture for us in front of the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad as she held onto the stroller with her leg. Where does this happen? In this place we felt like two children, able to do anything our tiny hearts desired. I watched my fiance playing with Lego's aside a group of children. Quietly, I watched them, sorting through pieces--wondering what they would build, what they could build. The gears in their brains were visible and they silently toiled around this bucket of plastic pieces. This is how I know I love him. I watched him as the fireworks display distorted the sky in smoke and light. His mouth spread open in awe and surprise. He'd never seen such a thing. Imagine never having seen an intricate fireworks display until your adulthood? I imagine it must be like discovering plutonium. I watched him react, physically and vocally, to the Fantasmic show of mist and fire. He marveled at it almost as excitedly as the chubby girl in front of us in the High School Musical Cheerleading uniform. Unashamed. This is why I love him. Our hearts are one and the same: adults quietly building upon our youth, but not silencing it. This is why I love Disneyland.

One last day in San Diego provided us with the time to absorb as much family affection as we possibly could, not to mention my mothers cooking. We spent most of the afternoon in the swimming pool with my father, my niece, and my aunt and uncle. We don't get to do that very often. As the day winded down, we finished packing and made sure that all was in order. The only thing left unattended were our feelings; we didn't want to leave, but ultimately we had to.

Thank God for airplanes (and the Wright brothers).

Recycled Air

2009-08-04T06:39:00.003+09:00

Airplanes are about as sterile as a bottom at an Eastern European orgy. Listening to people cough up small babies, burp, and attempt the occasional fart does the opposite of make me comfortable in this small, enclosed space that we'll share for countless hours. Most of the time, I'd rather make out with a stranger infected with mono. Mono happens to be one hell of a diet. However, the idea of hitting the stratosphere in a metal contraption is pretty cool isn't it? If I'm not too busy falling asleep, praying against my death, or gently grazing the body of the possibly hot person next to me, I ponder the wonder of cracking through the sound barrier and essentially traveling back in time (when traveling from Korea to California). I wish it was as glorious as it sounds, but it isn't. Losing a day on the way back is as equally annoying as the recycled air in the cabin, but I digress. And funk what ya mama told you, airplane food is bomb. You get a roll AND dessert. That's bread times two. It's about time to go now, and soon my beloved and I will be landing in San Dieger. My family will meet us at the airport and either, a) cry b) be overly affectionate or c) ask us if we're hungry. I think we all know the answer to that question. Let the feeding frenzy begin.

Lazy am I.

2009-08-02T11:53:00.003+09:00

It's obvious to anyone who reads this blog (a number which is most-likely nearest to 1) that I am a lazy blogger. Updating this blog is something easily done on a day to day basis, seeing as I spend countless hours fawning over Facebook while at work and home. What's clear to me now is that I must refocus my words to this page, where I can keep a log of the things I say...because sometimes those passing comments are comical masterpieces! Well, not so much, but I'd never know because I lose those comments with every status update I waste on Facebook. And fuck Twitter, seriously. A website dedicated to one-liners? Blatant self-promotion that I have no interest partaking in. Admittedly, my father did coax me into joining and a minute pang of guilt hits me every day that I don't log on to Twit him. But I am comfortable with the idea that he utilizes it even less than I. In other news, my boyfriend and I will be leaving to San Diego in two days to visit my family and friends. We'll make a short pilgrimage to Los Angeles and Anaheim to defile Disneyland for a weekend. As my prior two posts would suggest, food is the focus of the trip. I'd love to be a romantic and say it's family, friends, or nostalgia that pulls at me like a hook to a fish--but I'm a simple, hungry person. This is a food parade, and if someone dies along the way--it will not have been in vain. Stay tuned.

Food, Food, and More Food: Los Angeles Edition

2009-08-02T11:46:00.002+09:00

The time is growing painfully near when I can once again step upon the freeing yet claustrophobic confines of the vessel that will deliver my beloved and I to yet another travel destination. Ah, yes, Incheon International Airport--I can smell you now, with your plethora of 'dericious' meal options, and your fabled Smoothie King, which I can never seem to find. Only two days stand between us, and it is utter torture! Weeks ago I made a similar posting in regards to restaurants I hoped/planned/dreamed about patronizing once in my hometown of San Diego. Now it's time to brainstorm about my second 'hometown'...Los Angeles. A far larger city, boasting some of the best restaurants and chefs in the world, eating the way I fantasize about will be a daunting task to say the least...and one I may not be able to afford. So, in the spirit of being cheap, not a food-elitist, and having a strongly opinionated stomach--I'm going to name not the best eats in Los Angeles but those I wish to contribute to my escalating cholesterol score. (Again, I am limiting this list to 10 establishments, in no particular order): 10. Porto's Bakery http://www.portosbakery.com/home.htm Cuban food seems to be popular these days; with several people saying it rivals Mexican food. Well, I think those people are pretentious boobs with stale taste buds. But all that aside, Porto's Cuban bakery is the type of food that's worth the calories. Not because it's a culinary marvel, and not because the flavors in their dishes are complex and new. The secret to their success is this: fry everything. Fried food is amazing. I've even had a fried starfish (in China, not Porto's) and you'd swear it was chorizo. And speaking of chorizo, the chorizo pie is to die for, not to mention my personal favorite--the potato ball. It's a ball of mashed potatoes filled with spicy ground beef and deep-fried. Need I say more? Besides the fried favorites, which run you mere dollars apiece, are some of the most incredible sandwiches. Aside from serving everyday daily sandwiches (far better than what you'd find at your local Quizno's), they also tempt with more traditional choices. They include Pan con Bistec (Cuban steak sandwich), Pan con Lechon (roasted pork sandwich--also my favorite), and the popular Medianoche (midnight) sandwich, which basically has a bit of everything...much like one would construct for a midnight snack. Just in case you were wondering, because Lord knows I was, there is in fact a potato ball sandwich. 9. Roscoe's Chicken & Waffles http://www.roscoeschickenandwaffles.com/ If you're cringing at the sound of this combination, do not judge so quickly. I'm not sure there's been a better marriage since cookie and ice cream sandwiches (we'll get to that later). Roscoe's serves up some of the best soul food in Southern California, although admittedly I've had better in Compton but for reasons beyond my control it's far less attainable. A tad overpriced due to extreme popularity (on any given day you can be eating next to Snoop Dog), but the portions and flavor make up for that minor inconvenience. If you're a newbie, order a Carol C Special, which comes with a succulent fried chicken breast and delicious waffle. Simple, and it gets the point across. That's usually my meal of choice, but I of course add a side of greens, macaroni and cheese, and corn bread. If I'm really hungry, I'll also throw in a plate of scrambled eggs with cheese and onions. If you're a bit more adventurous, try the fried chicken omelet. Again, sounds wrong but couldn't be more right. My computer keys are currently covered in saliva. 8. Crustacean Beverly Hills http://www.anfamily.com/Restaurants/crustacean_beverlyhills/displaypages/homepage.html Food elitism is probably more annoying than people who argue about what constitutes punk rock, but that doesn't mean all fine dining must wear this scarlet letter. When I feel the splurge coming on and do want an incredible meal with the bill to match (and I'm in LA), no place comes close to Crustacean. Located at the border of Little Santa Monica and Beverly Hills, this French-Vietnamese fusion restaurant is hands down some of the best food I have ever had in my entire life. The prices range from affordable to "oh yea, I'm in Beverly Hills," but no matter what you order--it's going to be amazing. Walking in is an experience in itself, with an aquarium pathway that gives the illusion that one is walking on water. Once in the main dining room, the bamboo and wicker furnishings and fans feel as if you're dining in a swanky version of some Indiana Jones adventure. Much like the name suggests, the focus of the cuisine if seafood. My personal favorites are the Salmon Tartar, and Rice Ho-Fun Ravioli with pacific prawns, braised fennel, caramelized shallots and soy-sesame emulsion. The most famous dish, however, which is on the sides menu are the AN's Famous Garlic Noodles. When I expressed my orgasmic-reaction to the noodles to my waitress, she said people who work and live in the area forego the more gastronomical dishes on the menu for these noodles--often ordering them in bulk. I kid you not, there's crack in these noodles. 7. Eat Well http://www.boorah.com/restaurants/CA/west-hollywood/eat-well-west-hollywood/1EDC76BCB8.html I'll keep this one short buy sweet. This is the kind of restaurant you go to for a lot of food at a reasonable price. Los Angeles is teeming with cafes and diner-style eateries, all with their own gimmick and celebrity clientele to draw attention and patronage. Eat Well is on that short list of cafes that has opened and remained opened, despite LA's constant fickleness. The singular reason for which I frequented this cafe when I lived mere minutes from it off Sunset was what they call 'The Big Mess.' It's exactly what it sounds like--one big mess of food. Eggs, spicy sausage, potatoes, avocado, jalapenos, and whatever else they have on hand that day. Add a bit of ketchup, hot sauce, maybe a touch of sour cream and side of wheat toast and you've got an hours worth of spectacular goodness at your fingertips. The sad thing is, it doesn't really last an hour...despite the huge helping. 6. Sprinkles http://www.sprinkles.com/ Sprinkles is like the IKEA of cupcake bakeries. The cupcakes are moderately priced (for Beverly Hills), the value/flavor of the pastries are far above their price-point, and they happen to be incredibly stylish little confections. Rare is the day when a line of hungry customers isn't wrapping around the block. The shop is small, compact, and quite efficient. Boasting such flavors as Banana, Chai Latte, Peanut Butter Chip, Pumpkin, and Ginger Lemon, they must keep a daily schedule of flavors to keep track. Yes, you can actually schedule which days you visit. Try the Red Velvet cupcake. A description wouldn't do it justice. Let's just say it's probably what kissing Angelina Jolie must be like. Even better, they sell ready-packaged mixes to take home and bake if you can't stick to your cupcake schedule. Empty luggage prepared for this reason. 5. Diddy Riese http://www.diddyriese.com/home.php The busiest establishment on the list also happens to be the cheapest. Located in UCLA's Westwood Village, this is the spot everyone seems to stop into on their way from/to dinner. In fact, I have been there at various times of day and must always wait an average of 20 minutes to reach the register to deliver my painstakingly conceived order. This is the way it works: you choose two flavors of cookies (chocolate chip, snicker-doodle, white chocolate chip, oatmeal, candy, and quite a few more), and a flavor of ice cream (cookie dough, rocky road, mint chocolate chip, strawberry, and so many more) and an ice cream sandwich is constructed for you in mere seconds for the price of $1.50. Now the first time I visited it was only a dollar, but the 50-cent increase is not a bother. The cookies are delicious, the ice cream is Dreyer's, and you can order cookies at 35 cents a piece for an after sandwich digestif. It's a cheapskates dream come true...hence mine. 4. Toi http://www.toirockinthaifood.com/sunset/index.html There are cheaper and more accessible Thai restaurants in LA. In fact, there are so many options in the Thai market that it's a wonder how they all remain open year after year. What Toi has is a gimmick, and that leaves a lasting memory. Memories equal loyal clientele. Toi is like the CBGB's of Thai food in LA. The menu is virtually the same you'll find anywhere else, but the portions are arguably larger. Larger portions are a happy-maker. The reason I return time and time again, besides the ultra-cool rock and concert poster-laden walls and dirty-rock decor, is the Tom Kha Kai. A rather popular dish with Thai enthusiasts, combining chicken, coconut milk, and lemon grass--this soup is so good you'll want to bathe in it. The bowl is big enough, to boot. I've had this soup at several restaurants, all around the world--and not one has touched Toi's masterful take on it. Go for the Thai, stay for the concert video on the widescreen tely. 3. Real Food Daily http://www.realfood.com/ Similar to the list I compiled for San Diego, I will again include a vegetarian restaurant to fulfill the ex-vegan in me. Not all vegetarian restaurants are created equal. With whole food, raw food, macrobiotic, and everything else there is out there these days (rampant in LA), it's never clear whether you'll be receiving an actual meal or the assumption of one. Real Food Daily offers an interesting and exceptional dining experience for both health food enthusiasts and those curious to see if the grass is truly greener in Gwyneth Paltrow's garden. With the basic starters such as salads, hummus, and spring rolls, one can also sample something a bit more daring such as the Lentil-Walnut Pate with tofu sour cream, carrots, celery, cucumber, and wheat-free rice sesame crackers. My personal favorite entree is the Total Reuben, made with tempeh, tofu cheese spread, sauerkraut, thousand island dressing, on sourdough rye bread. It's incredible how closely the flavor is matched to its meaty counterpart. For this reason, their meticulous focus to meat-flavored detail, RFD seldom fails to satisfy even the hungriest hunter. 2. Zankou Chicken http://www.zankouchicken.com/ In the chicken game, we Mexicans in the Southeast have El Pollo Loco. It's nothing more than flame-broiled chicken with Mexican spices, with pseudo-traditional sides to compliment the deliciously prepared chicken. In the Los Angeles and Orange County area, a taste of the Mediterranean can be found that easily knocks El Pollo Loco onto its chooky knees. Proudly established in Lebanon, this rotisserie chicken has to be the most succulent, juicy, and masterfully seasoned chicken one could ever find in a fast food setting. With low prices to tempt passersby, once the chicken has been taste-tested you'll never go anywhere else. Sides usually include hummus, pita, and a garlic butter that is worth the acne. What's most inviting about this food is that it's pure Mediterranean cuisine, without the corporate flavor of the Greek chain restaurants. With falafel, shish kebab, and shewarma also on the menu, one can return time and time again without ever losing interest. Zankou Chicken, I love you. 1. Jinky's Cafe http://www.jinkys.com/ I have indeed saved the best for last. Jinky's Cafe is on that ever growing list of restaurants catering to the breakfast-starved, who want their eggs and bacon all day long. Bare in mind that this is a giant leap above the throwaway diners located anywhere and everywhere. Eggs, breakfast meat, and assorted griddle favorites are easily made and easily liked almost anywhere one may find them. What sets Jinky's apart is their ambitious and often genius menu. For example, six different types of Eggs Benedict? Really? Lox Benedict, Hash Eggs Benedict, Crab Cake Benedict...the list continues. Being an Eggs Benedict fiend myself, I have sampled each and every one on several occasions and each is a wonder in its own way. There are also over twenty ways to order your egg-meal, from a simple choice of eggs/choice of meat option, to an array of omelets--some that include spicy 'Voodoo sausage.' What keeps me coming back is their, drum roll please, pancakes. Yes, I am a fatty and I love a flat, fried slice of dough covered in preserves and/or maple syrup. Now, when that list includes Pumpkin, Chocolate Chip, Tropical, and Banana-Macadamia Nut pancakes it's needless to say you're going to leave happy. I patiently look-forward to departing from their Sherman Oaks location in about a week, with a face-on much like a fat child at a Costco-catered birthday party. To my friends in Los Angeles, if you'd like to partake in any of these binge-fests, please do not hesitate to contact me. And my fellow San Diegans, the same goes for you. Check out my previous blog and let's get our eat on. My pants have been feeling far too loose as of late.

Food, Food, and More Food

2009-06-26T11:24:00.003+09:00

Despite the fact that I recently spent nine glorious days in Hawaii with my parents and fiancé, I can't begin to express my glee in having secured moderately priced tickets to venture to my home-city of San Diego. I suppose my biggest joy in the matter is that this time around there's the added bonus of introducing my betrothed to the place which I once called home for twenty-three years. Family introductions will be made, same with friends and attractions will be patronized--but call me fat, hungry, or simply gastronomically challenged...but what I look forward to most is the food. Here's a list of ten establishments that I can't wait for us to gain weight at. (In no particular order) 10. Rancho's Natural Foods http://www.ranchosnaturalfoods.com/ For a matter of years, I joined that small and ever-so judgmental group of people who call themselves 'vegans.' Apparently anything that doesn't include making a Parakeet a deity is a violation of some animal right. Granted, some vegans do great work and should be applauded. However, I'd say they who've made the greatest strides are those that have made vegan food not only edible, but enjoyable. Rancho's has achieved that by making, what I consider, San Diego's best vegetarian option is dining. Virtually any Mexican dish you can imagine is available for either veggies or vegans, and the flavor and authenticity does not take a back seat. If you want delicious, healthy, Mexican food with a twist--Rancho's is your haven. 9. In-n-Out http://www.in-n-out.com/ I don't care if it's a chain. It happens to be a chain not available in Korea, or most of the United States for that matter. For me, these are hands-down the best burgers and fries (on a budget) in San Diego. Not too big, not too greasy, and the fries taste like crispy, salted rain from potato-heaven. I'll take a double-double, fries (animal style), and grilled cheese on the side. Dear God... 8. Carnitas Uruapan http://tinyurl.com/mdcejq Though my Abuelo happens to make the best carnitas (braised or roasted pork pieces) ever created, this restaurant (unfortunately in the middle of nowhere) has some kick ass carnitas. Every time I visit this restaurant I usually gorge myself to the point of gastritis. Such delicious pain. It’s always packed full of people, usually huge families, and the vibe reflects it. People always say, “Terrible service, great food.” In Uruapan’s case it’s great service, scrumptious food. 7. Zorba's Greek Buffet http://www.zorbasgreekbuffet.com/ When I visited the Greek island of Corfu I managed to gain 5 lbs in five days. How did I do it? On the "Eat As Much Delicious Greek Food As You Possibly Can Diet." Can't make it all the way out to Greece? You're in luck! If you're in the San Diego area, take a short trip down to Broadway in Chula Vista and partake in the incredible feast at Zorba's. It can borderline on My Big Fat Greek Wedding schmaltz, but you quickly look beyond that. I promise you--they will have to ask you to vacate your table. 6. Hash House A-Go-Go http://www.hashhouseagogo.com/ I love when the plate is so big you could bathe in it upon completing your meal. This is why I love Hash House. Yet not only are their portions ridiculously overstated, this brand of comfort food makes you forget about dieting and remember why American's are fat to begin with. Breakfast at Hash House resembles a fancy truck stop, where the food looks messy but tastes like what you'd want to eat before hitting the electric chair. Adding a sprig of fresh Rosemary, and a big, buttery biscuit to the meal elevates it to orgasmic proportions. Lunch and dinner are also meals to revel in...But I put my money on the morning hash. It gets quite busy, though waiting in line has never been more rewarding. 5. Yokozuna's Bar & Islander Grill http://www.yokozsd.com/ My family may be Mexican, and we may eat every single part of the cow, goat, chicken, or (insert bloody animal here)--but we love us some sushi. We roll into sushi joints and clean the place out, like a family of bears when the salmon never stood a chance. And I'm not talking rolls, like most poseurs order. Slabs of fish are what our hearts desire. Making the visit to Yokoz that much sweeter is the islander flare, and Polynesian options. From Hawaiian to Guamanian--their menu is eclectic and in a very tasty way. Try the Stuffed Tomatoes. The absence of tomato will be a pleasant surprise. 4. Jyoti Bihanga http://www.jyotibihanga.com/index.htm Serving you a healthy slice of crazy, from Spiritual Master Sri Chinmoy himself. This small and humble restaurant is run by a group (cult) of Yogi's, in the hopes of promoting peace, bliss, and health through culinary creativity (and poorly-worded pamphlets). This was a major treat in my vegan days, and upon patronizing it further as a full-blown carnivore I came to find that the food was indeed delectable if not ambitious. There best seller is the ‘Neatloaf,’ Meatloaf's far-less barbaric cousin. It's made of rice, and beans, and other such grains--and tastes incredible. The visit alone is worth your time. Viewing yogi's in their natural habitat is not a daily occurrence. Bring a camera. 3. Filippi's Pizza Grotto http://www.realcheesepizza.com/ The URL says it all: real cheese pizza. I've had other selections on their menu, such as the lasagna, and eggplant parmigiana (oddly enough, better than the one I had sitting in front of the Coliseum in Rome)--but their pizza is what puts them on the map. The crust is crunchy yet doughy. The sauce isn't too heavy, and not sweet like the bottled variety. And the cheese...oh...the cheese. You need a separate plate just to catch the extra cheese. Very much a family restaurant, with a good old-fashioned mobster feel--and make sure not to leave without having a cannoli. You’ll kick yourself in the calzone. 2. Extraordinary Desserts http://www.extraordinarydesserts.com/index.htm Without a doubt the most innovative dessert restaurant I have ever encountered. I worked there, once upon a time, in the days where I was heavier and quite the kleptomaniac. Needless to say, there were always cakes and other treats around the house because of me. Karen Krasne, the mastermind behind this patisserie, brings inspiration from her favorite destinations: Morocco, Bali, Thailand, Hawaii, and Paris--and creates works of art that are debatably more greatly enjoyed in your mouth than before your eyes. And with a newer, larger space opened in 2004, she brings new temptations such as imported cheese plates, wines, panini's, salads, and the most incredible gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches I've ever had. This is worth being fat for. 1. Tacos El Gordo http://tinyurl.com/mrxtyr Give me tacos, and loads of them. I want back, neck, tongue, tail, intestines, and brains. These greasy little things are the perfect way to satisfy a hunger like mine; having been denied real Carne Asada here in the glorious land of Galbi. I'll order buckets of them and I won't share. This is the ultimate guilty pleasure, and one hell of a way to burst an artery. Make me (more) ‘gordo’…gladly. Next up: my list of Los Angeles eateries I can't wait to plow into.

America the Shameful

2008-11-06T09:40:00.001+09:00

You know, yesterday was one of the only days in my entire life that I was proud to be an American. I have never been a patriotic person, and having been brought up in a predominantly Mexican culture I have always felt a certain distance from the "American way."It's not until now that I am, again, ashamed to be American. How can so many people be THAT ignorant? They spout out words and phrases that they regurgitate as to not have to break a sweat in thinking about the human quality of what they speak. They do not stop for one second to understand that what they are saying, and the movements and decisions they are making for others is detrimental to a strangers quality of life.There are people celebrating today because it took over two hundred years for a black man to even be taken seriously as a possible candidate for the US presidency. There are also people crying, hurting, wondering if the marriage vows they uttered only so few months ago will disapparate as if it were only a dream (the best dream I've ever heard of).I'm so angry I don't know what to do with it. Part of me wants to cultivate this anger, and the anger of others--to come together as one strong front and turn on those who've turned their backs on us. Another part of me wants to understand that things take time, and that the voting patterns show a true hope for the youth of America. I am balancing on a very thin line, and I'm sure I wouldn't be far off from saying that millions of "Americans" feel the same way today.It's almost as if Americans thought, "well, this year we'll throw the Black's a bone...and hey, maybe in the future it'll be time for the gays." I don't want to be in a succession line for charity.I want my rights, damn it!If you voted 'yes' on Prop 8 (or any other anti-gay legislation) and you're reading this, I think you owe me and every other gay person you know, or even don't know an explanation.Why? Why? Please, tell me why you've chosen to deny me and your fellow "Americans" of a common right? Why must we plan YOUR weddings and not attend our own?I miss my family. I am currently living abroad, and I'd hoped that California would prevail in equality and that I'd be able to return to marry the person I wish to love forever.But now I sit here wondering: when I marry my fiance, does that mean I won't be able to reside near my family in California? Is the United States of America going to pay my airfare so that I can see my nieces grow up, feel the embrace of my parents, and be with my grandfather before he passes?I am ashamed to be American today. This "one thing at a time" mentality just isn't good enough for me...Obama or not.Dear God, help me understand.

Happiness and Anger Stew

2008-11-06T09:39:00.001+09:00

I cannot express my feeling of elation at the victory of Barack Obama in becoming our new US president. Nervous energy surges through my body, and I am virtually speechless. To win in such a monumental way makes the triumph that much more thunderous--and may all that doubt hear that roar.However, I cannot help but suffer as the pain of anger and sadness fester in my belly, wanting to scream, break windows, slap strangers--something to release the tumor that has been growing within me this past hour.How is it possible that a state as open-minded as California (a state where plastic surgery is common place, and celebutantes like Kim Kardashian and those dense girls from 'The Hills' are adored like deities; a state where the divorce rate is over 50%; a state where Marijuana is legalized for medicinal purposes) could ignore the obvious rape of freedom and justice for all by relegating we, the homosexuals of California, to a lesser role? When did we become a supporting role in the film called "Life," starring the ever-so-powerful heterosexual masses? It just isn't fair.What I feel like is an animal. I feel as if I have just been told that I am not allowed in the house, but to stay in the yard--even if it's raining.What angers me most is the statistics.According to CNN. COM, most age groups were either tied, or did not support Proposition 8. The only group that overwhelmingly supported the measure were those citizens 65 years and older. These are people that have lived there lives and are reaching the end. These are people who have experienced the joys of a wedding day, the trials and triumphs of a legal marriage, the raising of children, and so on. How dare they dictate to us, a new and different and far more understanding generation, how we should live long after they have become dust! It's obvious to me now that the experience of time truly is meaningless. That compassion does not mature or change if your heart and mind already dwell in a state of hatred and biggotry.It's a travesty that this has happened. A cruel joke. What's next? Do we have to wear patches on our sleeves? Stripped pajamas? Well, I'll tell you this much. If we do...it's going to be Prada, and you can all kiss my ass-cot!!!

Glamour and the Stench of the Seoul Sewage System Part 1

2008-10-13T15:13:00.001+09:00

It's been ages (over a month) since I last posted. There have been countless experiences that I've wanted to cover here, but alas I'm subject to my own procrastination and thus be my downfall as a writer. In any case, this past week's experiences are definitely something to write home about. Anyone who knows me or my current situation would know that I'm currently residing in the Republic of Korea. As such, my career bares little resemblance to that which I'd dedicated myself to for the past several years: fashion. In my day to day life, it's impossible for me to renounce my love of the art of fashion and all that accompanies self-beautification (minus self-mutilation, like cosmetic surgery). Though I've left the building, and "hung up my hat" so to speak--solely because I am currently teaching a sea of Hangul-crunching urchins does not equal the demise of my life in fashion.

This brings me to my present state of being. As if hearkened by the beacons of my heyday, fashion has found me once again...and as usual, I've gladly acquiesced. Back in August, upon my return to Korea, I met a young Canadian woman named Denise while out with friends. I mentioned her in my previous post. We really took to one another, and it was mentioned that my past work had been in fashion and on-set beauty departments. Denise is a photographer and works with another ex-pat, an American Blasian (Korea and African American) named Michael. Michael has created a website representing Korean street fashion for foreigners entitled Feet Man Seoul (www.feetmanseoul.com). The site covers mainstream fashion, local social events, street fashion--among other topics, such as music and Korean pop culture. One night, while painting the town blood red, Denise drunkenly mentioned to me that she was working on a fashion magazine to be distributed circa Seoul fashion week. Of course she mentioned this knowing that I'd invite myself onto the project...which I did. I immediately asked, pleaded, begged to have a hand in on the baby and she said she'd she what her project partner thought. Only a few days passed and I was invited to meet Michael, offering my services as stylist on the project.

We met at Doota!, the enormous shopping complex at the Dongdaemun ("East Gate") area of Seoul. It was evening, and incredibly windy. I was running late, as usual, and I found them outside trying to fend off the tempestuous annoyance. For some reason we didn't immediately go inside and escape the frigid temperature. I think that was probably because once you enter one of these large shopping complexes talking becomes troublesome and conducting a deep conversation, or a meet and greet as this was, would prove nearly impossible. So we remained outside and chatted about the project. I asked questions, and though many responses were vague at best, I did see true passion and potential in their eyes and ideas. These two elements are strong legs to stand on.

In true form, I began to shoot off my mouth and offer my ideas on a silver platter. Though some of my supposed "gems" were promptly denied any place on this project, I understood my place quickly and relegated myself to it. Now that we'd satisfied ourselves with banter, we entered the building and began to scour the many levels for the number one item on our list: lingerie. Yes, this was to be a lingerie shoot. The concept of the magazine is basically this: a "look-book" of sorts, with glimpses of Seoul fashion week's shows, street fashion, a few articles, and a photo-story--which was our main focus on this meeting. This photo story followed an evening in the life of a scorned young woman, who leaves the throws of a hunky, young gentleman to prowl the streets clad only in what she's left in...her underwear. Edgy. Sexy. A new concept in Korean culture: a woman claiming her sexual prowess as power. I liked the idea and quickly began to create a story in my head, with fully flushed-out characters with legs to kill.

With this in mind, we stopped at a few lingerie kiosks and found nothing to our taste. In a place this big with so many trends and an incredible penchant for style turn-over, it becomes an overbearing game of hit or miss. Michael said he knew of a more risque vendor on the basement level, so we ventured down into the deep to look for what we hoped wouldn't be death by ruffles, or bludgeoned by padding (not to mention choking on glitter). We found the dark little corner he spoke of after scouring through the labyrinthine alleys of the make-shift shops. There we found undi's a plenty, many not to our liking, in fact...I'm shocked they'd be to any one's liking--except maybe a Russian hooker (but then again, we get a lot of those here). Our focus color was purple, the "it" color of the season, or brown--to play off the models golden tan. We found a few options we felt forced to like, and then finally came upon a few that we actually did envision on the 6 foot plus body of our model: Henna. Thankfully, Michael is nearly fluent in Korean so he managed to work-it with the saleswoman and finally we had our first piece; a surprisingly elegant, yet sexy, brown-sheen bra and french-cut panty set. This was the beginning of our journey into public nudity.

When we'd finished, we met up with one of Michael's longtime friends whom he'd not seen in nearly a decade. It was a quick and passionless reunion, but still it thwarted us off to dinner where we shared Uzbek food and beer. The food was good enough. Loads of meat. Similar to middle eastern food as well as Russian, but a bit bland for my palette. Nonetheless, the conversation was dynamic and I was sure this was a marriage of minds made in heaven. With enough time, patience, and arguing we'd make quite the team.

And so it begins...

2008-08-26T23:52:00.000+09:00

Tomorrow isn't my official first day of work, but I will be going in for a 'meet and greet,' so to speak. I'll be meeting my new boss, and coworkers, and also attempt to make some lesson plans. I just visited the school after walking my man to the bus stop since I have to be there at 9am tomorrow morning and found it essential to, well, know where I was going. The campus looks quite nice, actually, and they have a killer playground. Sue me but I love slides, swings, and jungle gyms. This passed week has been pretty great. Reuniting with my Dong Wook has been magical, to say the least, and the world which I have re-entered I find almost more inviting than the one I left. This weekend I made my first journey back into Seoul to meet friends and party the night away after months of absence. We met up in Sinchon to visit a bar some foreigners had opened. The drink specials will get us to go anywhere, who are we kidding. It had been quite a while since I'd tied one on, and man was my body not used to it. We drank like thirsty horses, but by the end of the night were panting like hot dogs. We started at a bar called the King's Cross (I think) where I met some new friends: a Canadian girl named Denise, and a Korean-American girl named Carrie. I helped the girls to learn to flirt, since it seems as though they'd been deficient in this skill all of their lives, despite their attractive appearances. Either way, I do hope my teachings further them in their sexual and romantic ventures. From here we moved onto Hongdae: the place to be if you're young and in Korea. By this point I was already pretty tipsy and we ended up at a club where it was 9,000won ($9) cover, and all you can drink Tequila. I'm not a fan of Tequila, but all you can drink? For a man on a budget, I was definitely sold. This place was a sweat box and I danced with several Korean fellows. I find their interest in hip-hop culture somewhat comical but equally sexy. I also find it fascianting how Korean men always want to dance with me as a way to meet my female companions. It's my pleasure to help them, and my friends, get laid since I am only there for the fun these days. We ate and drank, ate and drank, and danced, and danced, and danced--until it was finally 6am and thus time to go home. Before we went our seperate ways, a few of us stayed behind for some spicy as hell Budejige at tent city, and some last minute Soju. Breakfast of champions. On my first journey back home I found myself drunkenly lost for two hours. It was both embarrassing and annoying. Note to self: if I'm going to get that drunk, stay at a friends. I was on and off trains and buses in a mad pursuit to find the correct route home, to little or no avail. It was like playing Zelda blind-folded. I stopped into McD's and had some more breaky, as an excuse to "sober up," when I really just wanted a greasily delicious sandwich in my tum-tum. Either way, I made it back home in need of some lenghthy respite. I did manage, for some odd reason, to stumble onto the Wall-E OST on my iPod as I arrived home and found myself crying quite emotionally for thirty minutes before finally dozing off. Believe it or not, I was crying specifically because of the movie. In my drunken state, that which I found fascinating and endearing about the film was escalated to the brink of my tears moistening my pillow in a deluge of melodrama. Thomas Newman is one hell of a composer. The last couple of days I've spent mostly with my boyfriend, briefly stopping into Seoul for some bootlegs movies. I was in desperate need to continue my illegal ventures here in Korea. Feeling a bit under the weather yesterday, we returned home and had some more take away Chinese (delicious and cheap), and watched M. Night Shyamalan's 'The Happening,' which I won't even bother to review because it was utter crap. It pains me when a talented writer/director has an inspired idea and then proceeds to use it as toilet tissue. I did manage to get my boyfriend to watch 'Showgirls,' however, which is the perfect example of something that is so bad it is very, very good. And so I go, off to tap dance for yet another school. Will I slip, or will I dance my way into their hearts?

The Night is Dark: A 'The Dark Knight' Movie Review

2008-08-26T23:50:00.001+09:00

To call this a superhero or comic book film would totally discredit the masterpiece of a crime drama that it transcends to be. Though dealing with the typical model of 'good guy' against 'bad guy,' Christopher Nolan and the new "Bat-Crew" know how to give us exactly the Batman that we need for this day and age, and not one in tights. The days of camp are over and in are the grimy times of reality. Violence, greed, unspeakable cruelty...these themes resound in the film, but we are forced to ask a question that challenges us in our own current political climate: where do we draw the line between hero and villain? When does collateral damage become a necessity and not a choice or accident? The film does not try to glorify its hero, nor does it chastise its villains. It is up to us to decide, as an audience, as an individual, and as a citizen, what we believe justice is. Though my love for the Tim Burton Batman franchise will never dissipate, I cannot deny that Nolan's take on this dark story is more current and far more relevant. Heath Ledger's performance was nothing short of legendary; balancing insanity, and misanthropy, all the while making us laugh along with him even in the face of his merciless violence (much like Hannibal Lector). His untimely death will no doubt be the talk of next year's Oscar's, as he is sure to be nominated. Christian Bale is a sturdy Bruce Wayne/Batman, and Morgan Freeman, Michael Cain, and Gary Oldman are all on top of their game (not that they ever aren't, in all fairness). The addition of Maggie Gyllenhaal as Rachel Dawes(replacement to Katie Holmes), and Aaron Eckhart as Harvey Dent/Two Face were wise choices. Both are strong actors, holding their own if not making themselves known in a film already bursting with fresh, and fascinating newness. This is a dark film for dark times for a world that barely has a Knight in sight.

"Hey, it's the new Malibu Stacy...and she's better than ever!!!"

2008-08-22T22:18:00.000+09:00

My return to Korea wasn't exactly the smoothest of operations. After spending a month with my family in San Diego post-African journey, I had become accustomed to life on hold. Doing little to nothing all day everyday was both wearing on me and growing on me simultaneously. I knew it was a matter of time before I headed back to Korea, but waiting renders actuality useless when time moves like a drunken snail. Pro's: being with the family, seeing my nieces, playing with my dog Sammy, eating all the food I love/hate, visiting with friends, and stocking up on DVD's and going to the cinema. Con's: no job, no money, boyfriend eagerly awaiting me as I eagerly awaited returning to him, an influx in fatty cells collecting in areas I'd rather they not be. In the end, however, I did garner a great teaching position at a public school in Gimpo, closer to Seoul than I'd been before. Public school positions mean two things: less work, more vacation. Sign me up. I departed my old home in Chula Vista along with my parents to the San Diego International Airport at Lindbergh field on the morning of August 18th. Little did I know that United Airlines was going to live up to their standard of crapiness and cause me to lose my connection at SFO with Singapore Airlines. Due to weather conditions beyond anyone's control, San Fran was not allowing flights to enter it's airfield. Unfortunately for me, that meant that I'd probably miss my connecting flight into Seoul. I pleaded with the United crew to change my flight so that I could divert spending a costly night in SF, but they assured me that I would make my connection. Well, that gum-smacking Armo-biotch didn't know her ass from her elbow. I was indeed stranded in San Fran for a night, having to pay for a room out of pocket. I spent the entirety of my stay in my hotel room, eating, watching Will & Grace, and catching up on some much needed recovery sleep. Packing had proven a daunting task the evening prior. In any event, I was on the next flight with Singapore Airlines the following day. Singapore Airlines has to be the best airline EVER!!! They are the kindest, most attentive people I've ever encountered on an airplane. The food was delicious, the LCD screens unbelievably large, and the entertainment choices too vast to fathom. I couldn't do or see everything I wanted in the 11-hour flight. My seat even had a power connection, and usb port. Pretty crazy stuff. I could only imagine flying First Class. They must blow you up there. I arrived in Korea glad to be back, and nervous to face my boyfriend--though I was dying to see him. I wasn't sure what to expect, or what sort of welcome I'd receive after my four-month departure. Phone calls and e-mails are one thing...but eyes cannot lie. After collecting my luggage, and exchanging my money, I exited the baggage claim area and entered the openness of the welcome area. A sea of people stood there; signs bearing various names, some faces disappointed that I was not the love one they'd been expecting for who knows how long. I looked about but didn't see him. I figured he was grabbing a drink or something considering my flight was an hour early. Then I saw a hand flailing about in my direction. A buzzed head with thick-framed glasses approached me. This was not the way I'd left him, but this is to whom I'd returned to...and let me tell you, I was unaware he could look better. We crashed into each other embracing for a moment. It seemed unreal. To touch each other once more after such an extended amount of time seemed alien though welcome and necessary. I could breath again. We walked out and grabbed a bus to the other nearby airport in Gimpo, where we'd be staying for the night. We stayed at the Hotel Airport where we caught up, watched tv, and ate a late dinner. Ah, bibimbap at midnight...how I missed it. We woke late the following morning. I had an appointment at 2pm to meet my co-worker to collect my apartment key in a nearby area of Gimpo. Dong Wook and I had some McD's and then headed to the Gimpo Office of Education. We arrived a bit early but found Ji Young, the woman I was scheduled to meet. She was very kind and giggly. We walked a short distance and made it to my new apartment building. It looked new, and was smaller than what I was used to. We entered and she informed me that most of the tenant were foreign teachers, so that I'd have a lot of fun and help there. That was a nice and comforting thought. We sat for a while and talked about a few things. She seems like a very kind and helpful woman...I just hope she isn't too nosey. Dong Wook is convinced she likes me. Eeeesh. I also met my neighbor, a rather handsome Korean-American guy from Colorado. He had an odd and shy demeanor about him. Ponder... We spent that evening grocery shopping, eating Chinese take-away, and watching Clueless. I walked Dong Wook to the nearby bus stop, which will soon be my main means of transport--and man is it efficient. Big time yay. I spent the rest of the evening getting comfortable in my new apartment. I slept in my sleeping bag because the sheet on my bed was a little dingy. My sheets are still in "storage" until this weekend, so I can't wait to get them. Something tells me the girl who occupied my apartment before me was a fat white girl. There were too many stuffed animals, origami rosettes, and tie-dyed astrological stickers everywhere. Am I right or am I right? Today I woke up early but stayed in bed and napped until I was ready to get up and moving. I watched a little Will & Grace and unpacked all of my luggage. A bit later, Dong Wook arrived and we cleaned the hell out of my apartment. That place is pretty clean now. I just need a design concept, though that will come with time and money. It was raining all day, but we made the decision to go grab a bite and walk around the neighborhood. I live in a pretty cool area. It's considered downtown Gimpo. I live near a supermarket, tons of PC rooms, restaurants (including trusty American fast food, and pizza), a CINEMA!!!, but best of all...a VIPS!!! VIPS is a steak and salad restaurant that has an amazing salad bar. I love salad bars because they are all you can eat, and this once happens to have a nacho bar, and smoked salmon. Yes, I'm a fatty. We had Budejigue for dinner, which is basically meat (ground beef, franks, and spam), and noodles (ramen, glass, and rice noodle) soup. It's hot, spicy, and smackulicious. It came with free ice cream after, and it was a dirt-cheap meal. After that, we went to see The Dark Knight and now we're here, at the PC room--"catching up on my correspondence." But for now, we gotta head home. It's getting late and the hubby has a headache. Until next time.

Ahhh, cinema...

2008-07-11T20:46:00.001+09:00

Needless to say, I was busting to go to a movie theater, seeing as how I've been weening lion cubs, and exploiting ancient African cultures over the last eight weeks. But today, I dedicated myself to a double-feature...and I am so glad that I did.The first film was Sex and the City. I'd read many scathing reviews, touting it as too somber, and dark. That the film had lost its fun and resulted in a cacophony, so to speak, of melodramatic emotions. I personally liked the tone of the film. I think it was an honest film about how love can exhilarate, delight, and consume but at the same time ache, scar, and even deprive one of their own personal needs. I found the film funny, sometimes a bit more slapstick than the show, but still funny. The only qualm I had was with Miranda's character. They escalated her far above the bitch scale. At the end of the series, her heart had warmed-up and she was less of a curmudgeon, and with the film we were at square one again. A character should always remain as such, and not become a characature...there is a difference. I did find, however, Miranda and Steve's reunion on the bridge to be the most poignant scene of all.The clothing was phenomenal, as was the look, and artistic design. We'd already learned, with the final season of the show, to accept that Carrie dawns clothing far-above her price range and this trend continues with the film. But it's part of the escapism of the series. We wouldn't want to see her in anything else but the latest. All in all, I was more than pleased with the film and I'll admit that I cried a few times. But hey, I'm a fan. Sue me.My second feature was Pixar's newest Masterpiece, Wall-E. Basically, I cried from the beginning to the end. It was so painfully beautiful that one can't help but become over-emotional. It's slightly a polarizing film, however, because it's animated. I fear that the audience will enter the film expecting a film about a clutzy robot who cleans up trash, but will encounter once in the theater that the film is so much more than that. It has the gentle quality of a Charlie Chaplin film, where there is no real dialogue or sounds besides the music (though Wall-E does make R2D2-like sounds) for the entire first chapter of the film, but there is a very clear tone and message. The earth has been reduced to a barren wasteland, with piles of garbage so high that they challenge the surrounding sky scrapers. The air is so thick with smog, that there is a labored, and colorless gloom that spans the sky. But Wall-E knows no different, and unfazed as he conducts his days as usual, he becomes enchanted with the human world that once existed there and collects "artifacts" that inspire wonder and amusement in him: feelings so innocent and simple, that it's heartbreaking that we, who still live amongst these artifacts, do not see.Wall-E's fascination with the film 'Hello Dolly' is more so an allure to that that is jovial, and exuberant than an interest in musical cinema. We see Wall-E's loneliness echoed here, and how he longs for the existence of someone besides himself and his only friend, a cockroach. It's then that he meets a robot far-superior to his making, and falls in what he understands to be love. Though these characters are (as cliche as it sounds it's true) robots, the audience can't help but recognize the humanity in their courtship. It's tender, fearless, and real.The second chapter of the film takes Wall-E to space where he discovers the remnants of the human race, now reduced to large piles of consumption: so gluttonous that they've lost the ability (or the will) to walk. They are so lazy that they drink their food, and do not notice the things that happen further than that which occurs in front of their noses. Needless to say, the film has a strong message in regards to our world's consumer issues, and how we are the masters of our own inevitable demise. It's sad, and true, and scary to see. This portion of the film relies more on dialogue and a bit of slapstick, but it has a Kubrickian sensibility to it--where robots rule, and we acquiesce to their superiority.The last chapter of the film, however, is nothing more than sheer magic as we experience the strength, the will, and love exhibited both by humans and robots alike, straining to survive.Wall-E is heart-wrenching, an eye-opener, important, and it's sweet innocence lingers long after you've left the theater. I could not fight my immediate emotional response to the film because we are living in a time where there is such a delicate balance between what could be and what will be. As Albert Einstein once said, "It is appallingly obvious that our technology exceeds our humanity." Wall-E poses the question: wouldn't it be better if our humanity exceeded our technology?

Left-Behind in Left-Field

2008-07-03T20:41:00.000+09:00

Taken from my diary; written while waiting for my plane from Nairobi to Cairo: Shock. The only word to perfectly convey what I have felt over the last forty-eight hours. I never imagined that I'd be so deeply affected by the finale of my GAP adventure. When I signed up to trek across the African continent with a pack of strangers, I second-guessed my decision. I was fearful of traveling within a bubble. Two major cons to traveling in such a fashion are: firstly, that there is a barrier between yourself and the what you see. This barrier keeps one from full-immersion, or from totally abandoning ones defenses to allow a new culture or experience to go beyond the epidermal layer. The second reason being that personalities can over-power, tensions can rise, aggression is inevitable. I can safely say that we only experienced mild symptoms of both--and for that I am grateful. What a time. Two months of my life spent exactly as I'd like them to have been spent...happy. Saying goodbye to these people I didn't even know existed six weeks prior was a very difficult trial for me. In our bubble we bounced off one-another, held-close to one-another--were simply together. Six weeks of closeness with strangers and now I feel blessed to be able to call them friends. Our drop-off was quite a jolt to my emotional core. I'd not stopped to consider what the end would be like. I hypothesized, guesstimated, and imagined the possible scenarios of the end--but this proved to be mere fantasy, and not the true and real pain that saying goodbye came to be. I never expected to cry. I never expected a rushed hug, or a half-glance and a wave. I never expected to be winded, as if bludgeoned by a sledgehammer. I simply never expected. I considered. I dramatized. I imagined...but I never expected reality. The saving grace of this end was having Jen around until the very end. Being able to mourn together, ween-off together, and share a few more memories together allowed me to slowly acquiesce into detachment and switch from, 'goodbye,' to ' see you soon.' Here I am, now, sitting alone in a small, boring airport terminal. Faces flash in my mind--beating like light against the wings of a butterfly. Feelings are muddled. Fantasies are disrobing to reveal truth. Clarity. Clarity is near. Shock. The perfect word. Here I am, waiting to start all over again; left behind, the last to leave, with my feelings from left-field clenching tightly to my heart as the tidal wave pulls me further out to sea.

The Tip-to-Tip Trip: The Last Leg pt 1

2008-07-03T19:23:00.000+09:00

Cairo. Dirty. Loud. Crowded. Beautiful. I love it here. Yes, I have been annoyed by touts, and beggars, and others of the sort. Yes, my boogers are black from the smog. And yes, I have received many a dirty look for my Hebrew tattoo--but alas, this place is great. I arrived early yesterday morning after spending an insane amount of time (10 hours) overnight at the Nairobi airport. I did this to save money and also to share a cab with my friend Jen. I am happy that I made that decision because psychologically it was as if we ended the trip together--as it was meant to have happened. Let me back up and speak on Nairobi for a bit. Nairobi was loud, dirty, crowded, etc...a little Cairo of sorts. Far less Muslim, but still the dirty looks. People were quite kind there, though rough around the edges. Few of us stayed behind more than one day. When our truck, Denver, entered the city we were bombarded by unspeakable traffic and looks of hatred from the people below. We deserved it, really. It took us longer than anticipated to arrive at the Boulevard Hotel, located next to Nairobi University. Quite a nice area, and campus. The Hotel was barred-off, and gated--guard with gun included, bombs sold separately. When the truck pulled into the drive-way, we realized that Ian, the Kiwi I'd spent my first night on the trip with at the Hotel Tulip, was sitting on the patio enjoying a beer. It really was a treat to see him, seeing as he'd left us mid-trip to join a group climbing Kilimanjaro. He recounted his story to us, and besides a nose-bleed and freezing cold, he said it was fantastic. Anyway, we pulled in and the moment the truck stopped, it was as if a bomb had exploded. People were going and grabbing bags, getting things together, rushing, rushing, rushing. Those of us staying at the hotel ushered into the lobby to secure our room keys and to put down our bags. An executive decision was made by our tour leader Elbie that they'd stick around for a while to have somewhat of a farewell dinner. Many people left straight away, with quick goodbyes. This Kiwi couple that I wish would fall into a well and never be found were some of those that left promptly. Good riddance. Following them were our friends Andy, Giselle, and Chris. This is where the boulder was dropped on our (Jen and I) chest. Seeing as how we'd made special connections with these people, it was too abrupt a moment to deal with--so tears came streaming from our eyes, and blubbering fools we became. We said our goodbyes, shared hugs, etc...but the feeling remained. There was a cloud on our farewell. In my opinion, we were robbed of a proper goodbye...and regret lingers like a confused ghost. Jen and I dropped our things in our room them went back down to have dinner. We shed tears every few minutes, then move on. Then we'd start up again, and again dry-out. This continued until our closest friends, Lauren and Katharine, departed. Our eyes, bloodshot and exhausted, squeezed the last drops possible from our eyes. These girls, of whom we are ten years their seniors (respectably), were true Spartans and held their own. We'll see them again very soon...of that I am sure of. After dinner, Jen and I went to bed with breakfast plans to meet up with Anita, Anders, Heather, and Sharine. We all met up at 9am for our free breakfast buffet, which was smackulicious. After that, I inquired about a city tour and off we were (Anita, Anders, Heather, Jen, and I) to explore the supposedly dangerous city of Nairobi. First, we went to the Kenyan Convention Center, and went to the top of the highest building in Nairobi to view the city panoramically. It actually has some very interesting architecture. We had our own private guide, and were the only Mzungu's (non-black people) around. Special. After this, I stopped at Western Union to pick-up some much needed money and we were off again to another market. We shopped for a while, but after the bargains we were used to in places like Malawi, and Zanzibar--this place was fucking Saks Fifth Ave. So we moved onto lunch. Lunch was a spectacle all its own. We made reservations at a famous restaurant called Carnivore. Apparently it's the best resto in town. Lord was the food there AMAZING!!! They first brought us towels to clean our hands, followed by Dawa's--a drink made with lime, honey, sugar, and vodka. D'lish. After this, we were given spiced butternut squash soup which was Divine. Then, we were brought a revolving platter with several dips. It was explained to us which dip/sauce went with which meat, and then we were given hot earthenware plates to begin. We were served a potato and bread, and then the meat began to come out on spits. First pork spare ribs, followed by chicken wings, then lamb, chicken breast, alligator, prime rib, and finally ostrich meatballs. There was a small flag atop the revolving platter that we were to drop once we'd had enough. It remained standing for about an hour =) When we felt our gluttony had met it's quota, we moved onto dessert. We shared an assortment of ice cream, and cheesecake. All of this for the low-low price of $35 a person. Pretty reasonable. I was more than impressed. After lunch, we returned to the hotel to say goodbye to our friends as they were headed to the airport in a cab together. No more tears, but loads of heavy hearts. Jen and I spent the remainder of the evening relaxing in our room, watching TV, a few more tears (but not many), had a small dinner, and chatted until our eyes shut. The next morning I canceled my last night at the hotel so that I could accompany Jen to the airport. The thought of remaining there alone was too much for me to bear. We had breakfast early, the we arranged to visit an elephant orphanage, animal orphanage at the Nairobi National Park, and the Giraffe Center. Again, we had our own personal driver and he was very good to us. The orphanage was a tourist trap. Yes, orphaned baby elephants are cute--but we couldn't even pet one. Boo. We did however get to pet the huge rhino. Logic? No, none of that. We did get to see something odd occur, however. We encountered a black cat sniffing out a horned chameleon. The chameleon wouldn't move, and it looked like the cat wasn't interested until...CRUNCH!!! Chameleon shishkabob for lunch. Hungry pussy got fed. Next we went to the Giraffe Center where we fed them snacks for about a half hour. We fed them pellets, and even fed them from our mouths. They may have leathery lips, but those tongues are nothing short of slimy. It was still badass. I pet the baby giraffe, and it's mother head-butt me. That was harsh. From here we went onto the animal orphanage where our driver managed to get us into the Cheetah cage so we could pet them. Their fur was coarse, and so were their tongues. They loved licking our palms though (tenderizing?). We were also able, with a tip, to go backstage and watch a baby lioness be fed raw meat and milk. We also got to hold her, but she was displeased with this. Cute as hell, though. Heavy, too. We returned to the hostel and had a nap by the pool. We talked more about the trip, and how it had affected us. After a late lunch, our driver David came to fetch us and we were on our way. With our luck, we were passed on the way to the airport by none other than the president of Kenya's motorcade. That's one way to leave a country =) At the airport we finally had to say goodbye, but not before making fun of some douche-bags sporting too much henna. Jen cried, and my heart sank--but I was just tapped out. I watched her turn to say goodbye to me, but I'd changed positions. She must have thought I left...but I was there. For the remainder of my ten hour wait, I read and slept. I barely touched my iPod, but I managed to shock a young, handsome British boy with the film Shortbus as he watched it over my shoulder (don't peak if you can't handle it, right?). The plane was ass. Egypt Air basically sucks. The food was good, but they showed us National Treasure 2. Boo. The plane was virtually empty, so we all got to lay down and sleep in our own rows. That was awesome. Flying into Cairo, I was able to see some of the Pyramids from the sky. That was an exciting thing to see and really shook me out of my funk. Once on land, I bought my visa, exchanged me money, and proceeded to fetch my luggage and find my driver. He was nowhere to be found. I was quite annoyed, but a man allowed me to phone my hotel on his mobile to find out what the problem was. Turns out they were there, but couldn't find me. I, being incredibly impatient, managed my own cab to the hotel. The man with the mobile wanted money. Here I thought he was being helpful. I told him to fuck off. My cab driver was really cool. He told me about his family, and what I should see while in Egypt. He also got me to the hotel safe and quickly in the horrendous traffic. Once at the hotel, I met up with the manager and he gave me a bottle of water and welcomed me. We talked tour, and I payed up: Day 2, all of the Pyramids surrounding Cairo/Giza, Day 3 Take a night train to Aswan and visit Abu Simbel, Day 4 travel by felucca boat for two days up to Luxor, Day 6 return to Cairo via night train. After this, I quickly changed and went across the street to Egyptian Museum; a collection of antiquities so poorly managed, I wanted to shoot myself. There was far too much to see, and not enough information. It was basically a crap shoot. I would call that museum "Old Rock City." I did, however, get to see the crown jewels of King Tut. Pretty incredible stuff. I'd missed them while they were in Los Angeles. That dude had to have been gay. He was far too fabulous. I got brave and took the metro to the Opera House, which didn't turn out to be as impressive as I'd been told. I chose to walk across the Nile back to the downtown area where I am staying and have a bite to eat. I had some chicken shawarma and an orange Fanta, then proceeded back to my accommodation to finally shower. What a sigh of relief to be clean. After this, I packed my bag for my trip south and followed up on e-mails. Then Ahmed, one of the workers here, asked me if I wanted to go to the train station with him to secure my tickets. I said sure. We took a cab to the area of the station, then proceeded to walk through a crowded mess of people, vendors, and cars. I am surprised I wasn't run-down by a car. We did stop, however, for a nice treat. He bought me a fruit cocktail with mango juice, and filled with sliced apples and bananas. It was refreshing. After we bought the tickets, he asked me if I'd buy him alcohol at the duty free shop with my passport. I thought it was a bold, and funny question--so I said, sure...why not? A taxi took us to the Sheraton where we made the transaction and he was most grateful. He promised to help me find a nice hookah with sheesha for about $20 before I go. We'll see. We arrived back and after some fussing around with my things in my room, I took two Valium and knocked out around 9pm. I am alone in a four-bed dorm, which is kinda nice. My shit is everywhere. No more tents to put up =) I was awakened by knocking on my door. To my shock, I had overslept and my driver, Sayid, had arrived at 5:30am to transport me to Giza. I dressed quickly, and we were off. We arrived at Giza and I could see the pyramids in the distance. He dropped me off at a stable where I paid for a guide to take me by camel to the pyramids and Sphinx. I was afraid at first, but got used to the camel. His name was Michael Jackson. My guide, Ahmad, was a handsome young student and knew his stuff. We came upon the pyramids and I was in awe. They truly are magnificent. I almost felt detached from the situation--it just didn't seem real. We took silly photos and continued on to the Sphinx and again--detachment. He allowed me to ride the horse back because I was having trouble with Michael Jackson. I am not a camel fan. Either way, it was an incredible experience. Sayid then took me to a papyrus store where I was basically sold something I didn't need for a reasonable price. He managed to sell to me in English, Spanish, French, and Italian--so I was stuck. The story behind the painting I bought is worth the 20 bucks, anyway. The vendor, apparently also named Oscar (my ass) showed me the process in which papyrus plants are made into paper. It consists of slicing strips, soaking in water to diminish the sugar content, then pounding with a mallet, then finally being pressed in a vice between layers of carpet. According to him, in the old days they used to have fat women sit on the strips for six days for two reasons: one, because fat chicks are heavy, and two, "their pussies absorbed the water." Yes, he said pussy to me. From here we went to visit two more pyramids, but only from the car. Basically, these pyramids are tourist traps. You can't go near them, and you can't go inside them--but you still have to pay. So we skipped them. We went onto the pyramids at Dahshur, and finally I entered a tomb. Going into a pyramid is claustrophobic and exciting all at once. It smelled like paint thinner and mold inside. There was really nothing to see, but just being in there and imagining what it must have been like to construct it was worth the sore knees and back to crawl in. I told Sayid I was hungry, so he drove me to a nice shishkabob place, where I paid $10 for a million plates of food. That was so well worth it. Egyptian food = delicious. After brunch, we drove back, taking photos along the way and joking about reggeaton music. It's pretty big here. Sayid was definitely a class guy. He offered to drive me to Alexandria in a few days. I may take him up on that. As he would say after every awkward moment, "welcome to Egypt." Now I am back at my lovely hotel, the Paris Hotel. It is definitely a hostel, but a hostel with class and style. I needed a place like this after roughing it for six weeks. The beds here are magic, and on that note--I'm going to go take a pussy nap. Maybe I'll absorb some water. I am as dehydrated as the Sahara.

Sorry, this is a cop-out

2008-05-27T19:53:00.000+09:00

I don't have much time, so I have to recap the last 8 days in the worst way possible: By cutting and pasting an e-mail. The following is an e-mail I sent to my family, which encapsulates the highlights of that last week. I will be more detailed at a later time, if anyone besides me cares. Hey guys!!! So far so good. Africa is incredible and I have seen some rather amazing things. I have also eaten everything from Oryx to Ostrich, and they are soooo good. I thought I was going to lose weight in Africa when in act I am gaining. Oops. I am going to attempt to call you guys today because I am not sure when I will get to call again. The phone situation is a little difficult, and we finally found some Internet after seven days of travel. Just to recap: Day one: We met up at our hotel and had a meeting. Then we all went out for a drink, then went to bed. Day two: We were up early, and I actually called you guys. We drove for a while and it rained the whole time. We stayed at a nice little hostel in the middle of nowhere and played monopoly for like four hours. Day three: It was an early morning, but we moved to the north of South Africa and into Namibia. We stayed at a campground near the border, along the Orange River. It was a beautiful place to camp. It was also my first time in a tent overnight. COLD...but fun. We had an incredible steak and sausage dinner. I have to say, the tour guide/cook makes too much food, and it's damn good + sitting through long drives + rest-stop snacks = me getting fatter. Day four: We woke up early to watch the sunrise over the mountains and then we jumped in the river and had a swim. It was so much fun going down the rapids. Made for some nice bruises. We packed up and moved further north to Fish River Canyon, which could be compared to the Grand Canyon. It's huge, and old, and we watched the sunset there. Then more cold camping. Yay. Day five: We had a loooooong drive where everyone almost killed each other. It was like a 10 hour drive to a place called Soussuvlei, where we finally entered the Nambi desert. At night, it was so dark in the middle of nowhere that we could see the milky way, the black hole, alpha centauri, and venus, among other things. It was the most impressive amount of stars I have ever seen. Like a thin blanket over my head staring at the sun. Day six: We woke up at the butt-crack of dawn to climb dune 45, one of the highest sand dunes in the desert. It was bitterly cold and the air was thin. We made it, and the view was intense. I have pictures, don't worry. Wow!!! We then went into the dunes with a bushman to learn about bushman life. It was incredible. I think I have overcome my fear of bugs by now. Then, we packed up and moved onto Solitaire. There, all we did was tan next to the pool and eat a lot of buttery apple pie. Day seven: We left really again (when I say early, I mean we're waking up at 4am...yes, early). We made it to Swakopmund, where we are now. We arrived at a booking agent who showed us a video of all the things we could do here. I chose quad-driving through the sand dunes and...SKYDIVING!!! Yes, I will be doing that in a few hours time, but I'll get back to that. We are staying in these funny houses that look like roofs. I have pictures. There are six of us per house, but it has been so much fun--like a cabin. We went on the quads and I have a new-found love for riding quads through sand. So much fun, and we saw some incredible landscapes. The desert here is insanely beautiful--especially because it borders the ocean. We all went out for dinner, where we ate too much and then called it a night, knowing we could finally sleep in. Day eight: Sleeping in didn't really work out. We have all been conditioned to be up early, so we were all up before 8am. Everyone went in their own directions to do different activities. My buddies and I went out for our free breakfast, and then shopped around a bit before stumbling into this Internet cafe. Thank Jehovah!!! It's 11:15am here, and we're jumping at 4pm. Almost time!!! If I do splat into the ground, I leave all of my earthly belongings to Sammy (our dog), and my stuff in Korea goes to my hubby, Dong Wook. I love and miss you all so much!!! So many amazing things have occurred over the last 8 days, I wish I could get into it now, but I have to pick up my washing from the cleaners, take a shower, and get ready to jump out of a plane over a vast desert. Also, I had Oryx for dinner and man does it make you wanna poo. The good thing is it's good poo, not travel poo. I wish everyone, wherever you are in the world, well--and I miss you my friends, FAMILY, and my BABE!!! Praise Jehovah for this blessed life and incredible world!!!

Eating Pumba

2008-05-20T20:32:00.000+09:00

Day 8 (Continued) When I left off yesterday I was going to meet friends for dinner. I headed back to the hostel and showered and relaxed a bit before meeting the gals (Lily, and Charlotte) at the hostel bar. There we picked up a couple of newbies; an Armenian chick from Long Beach who's been living in Ghana, and a nineteen-year-old Londoner who, oddly enough, is going on the same overland tour as myself. We had a drink and waited for our buddy Dave to return from shark-diving. In the mean time, we all shared a springbok--half peppermint schnapps, half Bailey's. The restaurant was called Arnold's. They specialized in game meat. Man, oh, man am I glad I eat meat. We started with some camembert and brie chicken salad's, and followed that with the heaviest, most tasty meat EVER!!! I, being the hungry and gluttonous person that I am, ordered the sampler platter, which included steamed veggies, couscous, ostrich steak, crocodile fillet, braised warthog ribs, and mushroom gembok (a type of antelope). These had to be some of the yummiest meats I have ever tasted. Good job predators!!! The gembok was a lot like beef steak, but the ostrich was more like a cross between fillet mignon and prime rib. The warthog ribs were amazing. That is one ugly animal that goes perfectly with barbecue sauce. The crocodile was served in a gooseberry sauce, and it was amazing. It tasted a lot like chicken. All in all, the meal was perfection. Our waiter was a skinny, hipster with hug glasses. I loved him. He was so funny. He humored us a lot, so it made for a fun evening. He also had the biggest pepper crusher I have ever encountered, so I hope someone will send me a picture of it. It seriously looked like a didgeridoo. The two bottles of free wine we were given for spending so much money was an added bonus (when in fact between six of us, we spent about $80 on a gourmet dinner!!!) After dinner we reserved a table at the local hotspot called Cubana, a Cuban bar/restaurant. The decor was beautiful, and opulent. They had hookahs for smoking, which we took advantage of. The best part was that there were flat screens on every wall looping episodes of Fashion TV and coverage of this years Cannes Film Festival. Non-stop fashion!!! Basically, paradise. We started with cocktails. I had 'El Maniaco' (grenadine, pineapple puree, and champagne). We followed that with complimentary shooters called 'Lollypops,' made with banana liquor and triple sec. After that we all made a pact to attempt the most horrible drink imaginable. This drink sounded interesting in theory, but it basically made us spit fire! We had an 'Absinthminded,' containing Yagermeister, Tequila, and Absinthe. Let's just say we all saw the green fairy. We spent the remainder of the evening chatting with a Dutch fellow and his friend, and Ana and I had an interesting conversation about the film industry (she worked for Focus Features' publicity dept). Around 1am, it was time to head to bed. We all headed back to the hostel where we found few people awake. Many of us said our goodbye's, mainly to Dave because he was off to Nairobi to begin a three-month law stint. I may see him in July. After all of this, to bed...so comfortable, and anticipating morning packing, followed by a 90-minute massage. Day 9 (Tuesday, May 20, 2008) Waking was easier than expected. Everyone seemed to rise at the same time, so making noise was not a problem. It took me about an hour to pack because I have sever obsessive compuslive disorder and must do things a certain way. One person in the room called me very organized, and another called me sick. You decide. After packing, I met Charlotte for a quick breakfast of toast and tea. From there it was off to my massage. The room was serene and quite pristine. New age music annoys me, but I dealt with it. The masseuse was a sweet, young blonde woman. She was very gentle and basically put me to sleep. For all I know, she waited until I began to snore and then waited the rest of the 90-minutes out. Either way, a nice, long, relaxing massage for $60 is not bad. From there, I walked down the road, back to the Geek Internet Cafe where I have been for nearly three hours now attempting to upload pictures to the crap that is myspace, and flickr. The good thing is that by today, you--yes, you, can finally see some of the things I have been writing about. I hope the photos find anyone who cares to check them out well. I have to go officially check out from the hostel and head to the meeting point: the Tulip Inn. Having spent a week here in Cape Town, I am beginning to feel akin to it. I find it difficult to leave now that my body, and mindset have become attune to lifestyle and ease of each day. Mainly, I'll miss the Backpackers. This hostel was truly a home away from home. The fact that I could shower next to a spider AND a moth means that mentally...I am more sound than when I left home. May it remain with me through the wild.

Chunky Monkey

2008-05-20T00:37:00.000+09:00

Day 7 (Sunday, May 18, 2008) Sunday is the day of rest, is it not? Most chose to roll out of bed late, but seeing as I'd gone to bed dreadfully early the evening prior, I was up by 5am--watching episodes of the Aussie sitcom 'Kath & Kim' on my iPod. When I finally managed to get up, I realized I had not plans and was instantly feeling antsy. I headed for breakfast and there met an American girl named Lily, and another American named Dave (from Escondido!!!), and a British girl named Charlotte. I had re-booked my ticket to head to Robben Island, the detention center I'd missed the day before, but didn't feel up to the journey. So, over toast and eggs, the four of us decided to go seek out Monkey Jungle--a sanctuary where little monkey's crawl all over you. Upon leaving the hostel we realized that the streets of Cape Town on a sunday redefine dead. Not a car, a person, or a peep. It was an interesting way to view the bustling city center. We stopped into the market for some munchies, then jumped on the Blue line tour bus to make it out to our first stop--the Botanical Gardens. The air was sweet, and clean in the gardens, almost as if the intense burst of oxygen was making us high. We walked around a bit, took photos, and basked in the bright sun. The trees were perfect for climbing, but it was prohibited. Shame. From here, were headed for the Bird Paradise/Monkey Jungle. In this small sanctuary were rescued birds, monkeys, and other animals of all different species. We were inches away from huge eagles the size of Rotweiller's, as well as an injured buzzard who loved to show off it's one working wing. Finally, we made it to the monkey enclosure and right away, they were scurrying around quickly. We weren't sure what the trick was, but some people were covered in these small, orange and brown primates. All of a sudden, I felt a slight tug and there was a monkey on my back, attempting to steal my scarf. He nibbled on it, tearing the threads, but I didn't mind it--there was a monkey climbing on me!!! After this it was pandemonium. They were stealing sweets from peoples purses, wrappers from our pockets, even receipts from our hands. These gorgeous creatures were so playful, and had so much personality. We were there for nearly forty minutes just allowing them to nibble our hair, and pull on the zippers to our bags. Tricky little buggers...but they were indeed precious. After leaving the park, we waited forty minutes for the next bus and played a few too many games of twenty questions. Along the bus route back, we stopped at a fisherman's wharf and had some of the best and cheapest fish & chips I've ever had. We walked along the boardwalk and found a local man and his pet sea lion, Happy. We took photos, fed him fish, and he loved it when we pet and hugged him. He reminded me of my old pal Oreo; my Labrador retriever from when I was younger. We boarded the bus again and by now we were exhausted. After about an hour of a windy, but incredibly scenic drive of the Cape Town coast, we made it back to the hostel. Each of us went out own way to relax or freshen up, and made plans to meet up for a trip to the cinema later. We walked to the nearby cinema, the Labia (yes, you read it correctly), and watched Todd Hayne's terribly pretentious film 'I'm Not There.' Three words, "I'm not interested." It was so self-absorbed and referential, that basically you need a Bob Dylan discography to even understand the title. Back at the hostel, I met up with my good pal Inez from Spain, as it was her last night. We shared a drink, a chat, and then off to bed--with plans for a 9am breakfast. What followed were an undisturbed eight hours of blissful sleep. Day 8 (Monday, May 19, 2008) Waking to no pressure is the best feeling in the world. The showers were mostly taken, but I found one with a lovely spider waiting for me. I quickly washed it down the water spout, and went about my business of cleansing. Post-shower, I got dressed and met Inez and Daniel from Peru for breakfast. It was nice to speak Spanish for an entire chunk of time, seeing as how that is a rarity for me these days. Great practice, and culturally fulfilling to me as a Latino. Here, Daniel showed us his pictures of shark diving, which looked incredible. I wish I'd done it, but unfortunately my stomach could not handle the rough waters of the Cape. Maybe next time. Inez and I said good-bye to Daniel, as he checked out, and I aided Inez in carrying her bags out to the reception area, as she's to move into one of the townships with a family for three weeks. She is with Doctor's Without Borders, and what she is doing seems incredible. After some debate, Lily and I decided to spend the day walking around and hoping to make it to the beach. We walked down Long Street, the most popular and hip area of Cape Town--also sort of the red-light district. We shopped a bit, and headed to the waterfront. At the waterfront, we were again bombarded with a beautifully constructed mall, chock-full of tourists delights. Not my type of place, but worth seeing. We had a beautiful lunch there, spending only under twenty dollars then walked along the coast--watching the rough waves slam against the walls of the walk-way. One woman was almost severely drenched...but unluckily for me, I didn't get to see it happen. After a while our feet grew far too tired to walk any further. We decided to hop a cab back to Long Street, and now I am here, and the Geek Internet Cafe typing this here blog. Tonight, we're off to sample some game; warthog ribs, springbok meat, and eland steak. Yum. Tomorrow is technically day one of my overland trip, where I will change to our meeting hotel. After tomorrow, I may be unreachable for a while. We shall see. But before any of that, I have a 90-minute massage scheduled for tomorrow morning. After this first week, I don't really need it, but I will treat myself anyway. After all, I have the next month and a half to sleep in the bush, and Rhinos don't have the gentle touch of a masseur.

Dirt, Poor, Strong, Heart

2008-05-19T23:41:00.000+09:00

Day 6 (Saturday, May 17, 2008) Another early morning, another early shower--luckily nice and hot. I had some breakfast in the hostel cafe and awaited my tour guide to come and fetch me for my day amongst the townships (aka ghettos). When he arrived, we waited for another guy who hadn't yet woken up and was causing us to fall behind schedule. Finally, Mjongo (my main man for the day) made the decision to leave the guy behind and just he and I would go. It sounded like a great idea, and an interesting way to be directly immersed. Mjongo is of a tribe not native to South Africa, so he speaks several tongues. He asked where I was from, and when I said San Diego he was delighted. Turns out that he has a sponsor who is a professor at the University of San Diego who put him through university. A truly small world, and already we were connected. We first stopped at the Apartheid museum, which was both enraging and thought-provoking. The set-up was quite artistic, leaning itself more as a menagerie, or collage than a typical museum. There I learned about the Dutch government riping the non-white races from their homes in several suburbs of South Africa, and moving them to areas called 'townships.' What once were flourishing communities were bulldozed and never developed--left only as a political statement of power. The non-white races consisted of blacks, coloreds (mixed), and the Indian's or Malay's. The most famous area is called District 6. This place is now a land covered in rubble, over-grown grass, and memories. The only building still standing are houses of worship. Even today, life is difficult for the different tribes of South Africa. Mjongo must lie about his heritage in order to work the position he works. His working name is Jon. In the apartheid years, when people attempted to do this, the 'pencil test' was administered. A pencil was stuck into their hair and they were told to shake their head. If the pencil fell out, then they were of mixed race and it was okay. If the pencil stuck, then they were black and they were reprimanded. Another version of this test involved briskly, or forcefully pulling the pencil from the hair. If it came out easily, all was okay. If the pencil took with it a chunk of hair, or skin and the subject screamed in their native tongue (not Afrikaans, the native South African language), then again--they were reprimanded. At the museum we managed to pick-up another couple of tourists--a young an very attractive couple (he from Brazil, she from Australia). We continued onto the townships, where I wasn't too sure what I'd encounter. It was shocking. I am not sure I could think of a word to truly encapsulate the vision, the feel, or the idea of what was being presented before my eyes. Shanty houses covered miles, and miles of land. Homes made of anything; from old concert posters, to ads, to newspapers and cardboard, to gum and rope. My heart sank so deep inside me that I didn't have the strength to fish it back out. There were people everywhere--dirty, filthy dirty, with eyes older than their years. Clothing on their bodies looked more like peeling paper on an alley wall than a means of beautification or survival. And of course, we were being stared at far more intently than we were staring at them. Part of me felt intrusive--as if they were game, and I was on safari trying to capture a prize-winning shot for National Geographic. But those feelings soon melted away once I realized that in this dusty den of destitution there were smiles to be had, and a place to be offered in one's home even when there was no room to let. We first stopped into a 'shebeen,' a kind of pub where beer is home-made and the locals drink together in the dimly lit room. The premises were not what one would expect. We were basically in a shack, completed constructed of old, moldy cardboard, where a woman nyrsed a child and the floors were either dirt or old wood. We sat on small stools and met those that were also there to share in the drink. The beer was foamy-white, and in a medium-sized silver bucket. We were coached to pick it up and take a large swig. And so we did. The taste was much like a cider, with a bit of a tangy kick on the tail-end. I rather liked it. We shared a short conversation, took a few photos, and then we were off. From there, we walked the streets and met children in clothing made at some point of the eighties or early nineties, and they wanted to pose with us, hug us, and climb all over us. I wanted to scoop them all up and bring them away with me. Their sweet faces assured us of one thing--beyond all of this waste, and abandonment, they still understood the basics of happiness. We visited a persons apartment, about the size of a studio back home, where there were four beads. In each bed lived a family. Each family contained four to eight people. The smell was polluting, dense, and pungent. How do they not go mad? From here we went to a witch doctor, where he told us about different cures for ailments utilizing local flora, and fauna. It was dark, and smelled of jerky in the tin room. Dead, dry animal parts hung everywhere. Two women sat together in the dark nursing children, and the doctor stood behind a metal fence with only a single candle illuminating his face. We could barely see him, but his voice was like age old tobacco. Fortunately for us, we also visited a community of women who worked weaving, and doing bead-work to raise money for their families. Most or all of these families are afflicted with the HIV virus or AIDS. They were warm, beautiful women, and their artistry was incredible. I met one woman and took a photo with her. Her simple request was that I mail her a copy. That promise I will keep. We were fortunate enough to visit the home of our guide. We met his one-year old son who was just having his birthday. His grandmother bathed his chubby body in a bucket just as we arrived. He was beautiful. This land, poor and sad, was beautiful. At the end of the day, Mjongo drove us back to what we'd consider civilization and we thanked him for opening our eyes. I collected his information and hope to send him a gift upon my return home. From town, I was to take a ferry to the detention island where Nelson Mandela was held for twenty-some odd years, but the swell was far too dangerous so my boat was canceled. I spent the remainder of my day purchasing inexpensive t-shirts, and some last few odds and ends I'd need before leaving the city in two days time. I returned to the hostel then, after purchasing a wrap for dinner, and went to bed early (around 8pm). I slept through to the next morning. In my dreams, I saw the townships and just watched...spectated, and did nothing. And in reality, I did the same.

My Super-Hero Wears A Cape

2008-05-17T22:49:00.000+09:00

It's been nearly a week now since I left the States that are supposedly "United," and already I have more stories nesting in my kookie little brain than I could possibly do justice to here, on this blog, in this boring internet cafe. I guess I will be boring and organized and take the writing by numbers route. So here goes: Day 1 (Monday, May 12, 2008) The day was hectic and my mind was aflutter in it's own buzzy way. I had so much shit to do, and pack, and think about that I can't clearly remember the day. What I do recall is my father waking me and refusing to allow me to take the train from San Diego to LAX because, "that's what poor people do." I love the way he puts things, because that is totally not what he means. What "poor" actually means is people without family to drive them--loners. Anyhow, I packed all of my travel gear, and we were off to Los Angeles rather early. We arrived to El Segundo and one of my dad's colleagues pointed us in the direction of a nice Chinese food restaurant, seeing as how I wanted to grease up before the flight. The food did prove to be excellent, and the decor of the establishment couldn't have been more perfectly...pastel. It was at this dinner that I had an incredible conversation with my folks about ourselves, our family as a whole, my siblings, the economy, the ecology, my life and the trajectory it's taken, and other such matters of importance. I have always felt loved by my parents, and do at every second of every day...but it was at that table that I felt respected, and I know that that so did they. We said our goodbye's at the drop-off point and I continued alone, much as I enjoy doing. Once checked and inside, I bought myself a small box of Godiva chocolates, as it's my flight tradition. It was then that I realized I'd not called my boyfriend. In all the mayhem of packing, and trekking, and conversing with the parentals--I didn't call my "chagi" (sweetheart). A bit worried that I wouldn't get the chance to call him, I scoured the airport Duty-Free shops for calling cards to no avail. Finally, I found a vending machine that unfortunately cost me more than a pair of shoes I bought today in CT. I had eight minutes to say what I could to my babe before who knows when I would get to speak with him. It was a difficult moment made more interesting by the fact that he was with a friend so he couldn't express himself as he normally does. We get pretty cheesy, folks. It was a bit of a disappointment, but the love was there--and that's what matters. On the plane to London, I slept most of the way. I was exhausted from the emotionally hectic day I'd experienced, and I had also taken two valium with a couple of in-flight bottles of white. I did manage, however, to have a lovely chat with a woman sitting next to me from Peru. She'd been living and working as a nanny in Paris for the last fourteen years. She had visited Los Angeles to attend her brothers wedding, whom she hadn't seen in ten years. Man, oh, man...if only I were Marty McFly, I'd turn back time and sit next to every single person on that flight just to listen to their stories. I'm an addict to the lives of others, and there are quite a few people out there, aren't there? -From a journal entry at Heathrow, London- I am currently experiencing one of those moments where I have no idea what to do with myself. I'm sitting here in Heathrow airport in a terminal I have never visited before. It looks new, but it just may be me. Airports are crawling with two things: gorgeous men, and too many tempting things to buy. I mean, do I seriously need a water-proof iPod baggie for six quid? It's a glorified Ziploc bag. There is one thing that I do find constant here, and almost appropriate, however. Most people here look lost. This is a place of transit, and thus there is a constant movement. But attached to this ebb and flow, I can't help but notice that people appear "lost." They may have a ticket, a terminal number, a gate, and even an assigned seat--but we are all in the same, small boat, slowly drifting in a sort of limbo. That is the special air of this port. This is limbo. The time one waits for a flight is a journey in itself. The mind wanders. If you're alone, you wonder why that is such. If you're not alone, you wonder if you ever will be again. Anticipation floods over and the imagination climbs the jungle gym. In the end, what this this stillness, loneliness, or state or purgatory amounts to is this...freedom. Day 2 (Tuesday, May 13, 2008) Traveling far above the air, this day barely even existed at all for me. It was shortened, folded in half, and put into my back pocket. I spent the eleven hour flight with the sweet South African fellow named Rob. He was a tall, stocky, rugby type who has been living in Cork, Ireland for over a year as a scientist. We were 28 days apart in birth. What are the odds. We had loads to talk about, joked, and even managed to have the same affinity for in-flight wine and muscle relaxers. The plane was mostly empty, but we enjoyed each others company. And there, in the quiet darkness of the airbus, we cuddled--not as romantics, or lovers, but as true buddies. It was a great feeling. I miss male, hetero friends ^^ Day 3 (Wednesday, May 14, 2008) Upon landing, Rob was pointing out to me the different parts of Cape Town, which I'd come to discover for myself. From the air I saw great mountains, white beaches, bright-blue water, and shanty towns as far as they eye could tear. We landed. Customs was a breeze. I said bye to Rob, and exchanged some traveler's cheques. I was to be met at the airport by a driver for my hostel, but much as troubles happen in travels, they were a no-show. I went to information so that they could help me contact the hostel when all of sudden, a man resembling a Samoan comes up to me with my name printed in huge letters. He shook my hand and said follow me. With him was a small, sexy, young woman who looked LAtina but she probably wasn't. I trailed behind them, as they carried their own conversation and left me to run behind. The car-ride was awkward, as they refused to speak to anyone else but each other. Keep in mind, I was the only other person in the bus. The sights were incredible. Table Mountain, the coast, and poverty. Finally, biggie spoke: "Where are you from?" I said, "I am Mexican-American, from California." He then asked, "Do you have change for a fifty?" I said no, and that was that. No more speaky from biggie. We arrived at my hostel and I was quite pleased with the lay-out. It really is a beautiful little place. Quaint, and safe--very important. I attempted to check-in, but I was too early. It was 10am and check-in was at 3pm. With my time I booked tours for the remainder of the week and then went and jumped on a big, red, double-decker tour bus to ride around the city. Great time, lovely weather. I stopped at Table Mountain, where I waited in the blazing sun for over an hour to ride the cable car to the top. The sights were breath-taking. Even the rock formations, and the foliage atop the mountain were different than anything I'd ever seen. It was smooth, worked over by millions of years of water and strong winds. I head back to the hostel and finally went to my room: "Lion." I immediately passed out. I slept from 5pm to about 9pm, then went and had some dinner in the hostel cafe. There, I met the two people I have spent most of my time with: Inez, a girl from Spain working with Doctors Without Borders; and Ross, a Scottish-lawyer my age who decided to quit his job and travel for a year. After some pizza, a drink, and some conversation, I was back to bed to be up bright and early for my wineland tour the following morning. This was the true Day 1, I'd have to say...and so far, so good. Day 4 (Thursday, May 15, 2008) The shower situation: interesting. Great, clean showers, except for the fact that there was a huge moth in there lathering it up with me. I almost freaked out, but I realized I'd better start getting used to the idea of big bugs with top hats. Yes, it was that big. Once ready, I met these two Aussie girls who were also going on the tour, whom I have forgotten one of their names...but the other was Sally. We met out tour-guide, Bruce, and awesome Kiwi with a great sense of humor. We made the rounds and picked everyone up and luckily enough, everyone was chatting away and we were all chums in no time. There was a girl named Estefania from Uruguay, a couple Brits, a Canadian guy, and my Londoner best-bud for the day, Andria. We visited four different vineyards. The first offered beautiful scenery, including goats, and ostrich--but the wine wasn't my favorite. However, they also had a cheese sampling. Basically, I was in heaven. It was all you could eat, so I mean, come one...it's me. I bought some lovely garlic chevrin and still have some left. Yummy on toast. The next vineyard had some incredible wine. We tasted quite possibly the best Chardonnay I have ever had. Dry, but slightly sweet. Perfect. We also sampled the world-champion Brandy. It was incredible...incredibly strong. We were plastered after that tasting. People were getting silly, and luckily enough we were in great spirits for the gourmet chocolate tasting. We flavored both milk, and dark, but I preferred the Kahlua truffle, and the Chile y Limon truffle. Gastronimically mind-blowing!!! Our third stop was a winery where we had lunch. The views, again, were stunning, and finally the sun came out. I had a burger made of Lambs meat and it was to die for. I have a picture that I'll post soon. Seriously, all burgers should be lamb's meat. This vineyard conentrated more on reds, and they put me to sleep...so the group grew a tad sluggish. Food and sleepy-sirum=night-night. The last vineyard specialized in sparkling wines, or champagnes. We had a blast here, popping corks, and drinking of course. There were three resident dogs that loved us and couldn't get enough cuddles. By this time, the day was coming to a close and everyone was showing signs of fatigue. Besides that, everyone was hammered. We made the brilliant plan to take an hours rest and all meet up at a Cuban restaurant called Mojitos. The Cuban dinner was actually quite tasty, as were the mojitos. Most of the group showed, so it was a nice bundle of us. It was interesting how beggers would come to us as we ate through the veranda. Even a child came and wanted some money. When we offered him sweets, he said they were bad for his teeth. We found a cool African bar soon after this and got down and dirty with the locals. The place was small and covered in red velvet. I drank Safari Dry, a beautiful cider. The dance-floor was wild, and we all got on smashingly with the locals that redefined unhinged-hips. However, I did dance with two African girls in the middle of a dance-floor "circle" and they said I danced like a black girl. Ahem...I know. We called it an early night and were brave enough to walk back to our hostel, five minutes way, when really we should've taken a cab. It gets very, very dangerous after dark. Upon arriving at the hostel, I came upon my friends Inez and Ross and we shared some drinks and conversation into the wee hours of the morning. It was a truly memorable, and filthy, sweaty, black-out drunken time. p.s. I had to be up at 7am the following morning to hike, cycle, and take a boat ride. Day 5 (Friday, May 16, 2008) I stumbled out of the bed and into the shower, literally slipping all over the place. Hung-over didn't even cover it. I was still pissed out my mind. Nonetheless, I was ready to go when my shuttle showed and I met the group, which was smaller and far more tame. We headed to the coastline to board a ferry to head out and view sea lions. It was a great time, except for the fact that the scene could've come out of The Perfect Storm or something, and people were being thrown about, soaked, and I puked half the time. The seals were gorgeous and abundant, and the swam around the boar, happily posing and seemingly waving hello and goodbye. After this, we headed off to view the African penguins. This was a truly magnificent sight. There were so many, and they were nesting. There were fuzzy babies, and parents waddling around with sticks and stones in their beaks. Their swagger carried so much character. I found the whole scene quite amuzing. From here we continued on to the Cape of Good Hope, which is the southern-most tip of the African continent. We didn't drive there, though--we cycled. Yes, that's one way to sober-up, and quickly!!! The traffic was sparse, as we were in a natural reserve, but I did have to dodge the occasional charter bus. The ride was quiet, serene, and heavenly. There were mountains, and grasslands, and bordering it was the incredibly strong coastline--brimming with the thickest kelp I have ever seen. We cycled half-way and then stopped for a quick lunch and chatted away with a Malay couple who traveled from Durban. They recounted us with tales of the dangers of their city, and the many times their lives had been threatened. Astounding. We continued out bike-ride, and the feeling was just insane. I felt alone out there. It felt as if I had rented the park just for myself and God was blessing me. It wasn't long before I could see the tall peak--the end of Africa. Of course, we had loads of Kodak moments and basked in the wonder of climbing to the top of this peak and up to the lighthouse just beyond it. The hike was about an hour, and this too was mostly done alone. All that could be heard was the ocean and it's winds. Looking out across the sea I wondered how close were to Antarctica. It was splendid. A feeling of pure splendor. Here, too, much like Table Mountain, the rocks were different. They were almost prehistoric in their colors and shapes. Reds, purples, oranges--much like we imagine the skin of dinosaurs. Unfortunately, we didn't encounter any baboons on our hike, but we did manage to make it to the top of the lighthouse just as the drizzle began to fall. This was an experience that I could never forget. God is magnificent. On the way back, we did encounter wild ostrich and finally we saw baboons strolling into traffic hoping for some food from the tourists. Those are some big primates!!! The babies were pretty cute, too. Playful. It was then that I fell asleep, exhausted from the day, and finally sober. For dinner, Inez, Ross, and couple others went to a fancy restaurant called the Africa Cafe. It is a tourist trap that actually out-does itself. The decor is beautiful, and bright. There is hand-made artwork everywhere, and the servers wear their customary attire (face-paint and all). The meal is a set menu, not written on paper, but glazed onto a water-pitcher in the shape of a Toucan. The cost was minimal ($30) for the 16 course meal, and the delicious cocktails we had. We started with some African bread, a scrumptious bean soup, followed by potato-based starters from all over the continent (from Falafel type balls, to empanada type cakes). They also brought dips, followed by the mains: basmati rice, lamb, chicken, moussels, and a spicy curry from Egypt. The food was absolutely marvelous. We were stuffed upon leaving the restaurant, and it was well worth it. We returned to the hostel and shared a couple more drinks and finally called it a night. I had to be up the following morning for a tour of the townships (ghettos), and I was truly looking forward to this more than anything. Another wonderful evening of food, and friends. (As I type this, it's Saturday, May 17, 2008--and the day was something I have never experienced before. However, I am exhausted from typing, the sun is going down, and I need to make it to my hostel before I have to shell out for a cab. I am also hungry. Blog more very soon. The rest will blow your minds. Oh, the poverty...but the heart. How they hold onto it is beyond me.)