Ode to Holidays

The last day of my fall break has officially come to a close. I still have two more days until I start back up with class, but Saturday and Sunday don't count because I usually get those days off. We got but a morsel of a holiday back at the beginning of September, but I was so caught up in the novelty (and cruelty) of law school that I forgot what an important holiday that week was: Fashion Week.

I don't really have a great fondness for Fashion Week. It seems even more trivial that we've got such pressing issues at hand. Never mind the fact that it's a billion dollar industry with a trickle down effect that plays an integral role of EVERY clothed person's life. But it really isn't something I mark on my calendar. I just happen upon style.com and lo and behold I find that I've got a week's worth of mindless clicks. "Next, next, next..." all the way through every single collection. I think if I look at them fast enough, I'll be able to get a better idea of the continuity that the designer was trying to get across in his or her collection. Clicking that fast also makes me feel like there's some greater power over me while I peruse these sites--a compulsion of sorts.

So a lot of people ask me what kind of style I like. For some reason, I always cringe when someone says I'm "trendy" or that I look like I shop at Urban Outfitters. No sartorial pretension here! Trust me. Just a tick I have. But here are some of my favorite looks dating all the way back to the summer when the European men's shows started and I had another welcome distraction from grading papers in Korea. Since I KNOW all of you guys care so deeply about what I would spend my nonexistent, currently-in-severe-debt, money on.




So if you ever see me sporting TWO belts or wearing black hot pants...now you know.

Ode to a Room with a View

This has been really hard for me. This getting up, clicking on "Sign In," typing something that's worthy of my incredibly intelligent and literary minded blogospeers.

So I'll just give you a glimpse of what I get to see every morning.



Remember that view of the Golden Gate Bridge I'd had back in April on my walk down from a Berkeley dinner. That view that sealed the deal and made me believe that the Bay Area would be my home for the next three years?

Say hello to Sigma Chi.

Ode to Updates

It's been a long time, so I'll just jump right into it.

My mind is now consumed by two things: 1) What will I eat for lunch/dinner? 2) How many essays must I grade for the next day?

This made much easier by essays such as the following:

Prompt: Do you agree or disagree with the following statement? THE GOVERNMENT SHOULD PUNISH PEOPLE FOR BEING TOO FAT.

Response: The government should not punish people for being too fat...because they are not harming anybody.

Support: "Oprah Gail Winfrey one of famous tv talk show MC. She is one of fat person. She didn't give harm to me. And she will not give a harm to us."

OPRAH-GAIL-WINFREY.

So I didn't think Oprah talked about Gail THAT MUCH, but for the occasional Oprah Show eavesdropper, do Oprah and said BFF become 1????

Ode to Singapore Airlines

I have waited 2 years for this moment. Ever since I read that Singapore Airlines nabbed the coveted "Best International Airline" award, I've been dreaming of transcontinental flights in the lap of economy class luxury. The day finally arrives and I am ready to be wowed.

Twelve hours from San Francisco to Seoul and I haven't slept a wink. Ok, so I slept for about an hour, but I'll explain later. Calling Singapore Airlines the best international flight may be a bit of a stretch. In my books, it will forever be the airline that made me want to stay awake. They wine (not so much dine) you and entertain. They being Krisworld, their in-flight entertainment system. Now, I come from a house with no high speed internet or cable, so the act of such "surfing" doesn't quite apply. It's more like limited channel selection or checking my email in haste before someone might make a phone call. Singapore Air's Krisworld lives true to its name; it really is ON-DEMAND. This is one hyphenated word that I thought reserved for Business or First Class on my previous Korean Air and American Air flights. A vast array of movies, television programs, and countless FULL-LENGTH albums, all at the demand and command of my index finger and thumb.

Start off the evening with an episode of 30 Rock, followed by 2 more of Sex and the City, a throwback to an episode of Arrested Development, an even further throwback to a frustrating match of Tetris, and finally an embarrassing bout of trivia that scores and lists your name in a database on the flight. Yes, Paul in 33C got 0/10 correct.

Now to settle in for a movie. Or two. Or three, if time permits!



This year's Oscar winner for Best Foreign Film. I love me a good reading of subtitles so I had pretty high expectations for the one deemed the best of the past year by the Academy. Maybe it was the fatigue, maybe it was occasional interruption by the flight crew to announce meals or alert passengers of turbulence, but I was a disappointed. It could also have been the fact that Holocaust movies don't usually sit so well in my stomach, or heart. I couldn't even get through The Pianist. I couldn't take the heaviness at the wee hours of the night, in bed, with the laptop so close to my eyes. It could have been the same with this one. An interesting story, an interesting protagonist (Schindler doesn't have to be the only hero!) but I was eager to get on with the next film in Krisworld's library.

The Counterfeiters: ***1/2

Remember that one hour of sleep I got? Purely the result of a computer freeze. The music stayed on so I settled nicely into Janet Jackson's Design of a Decade, but then the music stopped. After a quick nap, I ring up the flight attendant and he brings me back to life. Krisworld is back! And I'm not taking any more chances. Onto the next movie...



Following a somewhat disappointing run at my first foreign film, I decide to give this French one a shot. Another release that slipped out of my grasp due to my stay in Korea, this one had been on my mind for a while. This one got the Golden Globe, but quite frankly, who cares about the GG. Eddie Murphy sure didn't when he was snubbed of his Oscar. Oscar, or no Oscar, this film was incredible. I won't go on a long tirade of why I thought the artistry worked and how incredible the story is. You must see it.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly: *****

Thank you Singapore Airlines for making my recovery from jet lag that much harder. It was well worth it. And while I must say I felt a bit perverse kicking back red wine to unabashed European nudity and condom etiquette on Da Ali G Show next to a young child, I look forward to the programming that awaits in July.

Ode to Sunshine

A recent gift from cyberspace has nestled in my brain and is slowly beginning to colonize my hippocampus. Translation: this song has been looping non-stop ever since I purchased it from iTunes. I think it has something to do with the hand claps.

Readers, get ready to walk away from whatever you're doing, clapping your hands, and heel-clicking down your cul-de-sac.

Enjoy!



"Another Day" - Jamie Lidell

Ode to Getting Older

When I first heard about Young@Heart, I knew I had to see it immediately. I also knew that it would be the perfect movie to see with my parents without any anxiety over complex storylines or sexual content. But my mom has a tendency to forget the names of things, so from the first time I mentioned it to her, it was henceforth referred to as “The Old People Movie.”

“Mom, the movie’s at 2 pm on Sunday.”
“Which movie?”
“The Old People Movie.”

“Hey, I read another review about the Old People Movie.”
“Which one is that?”
“The one with the old people. They sing.”
“Oh yeah. That looks good. When are we seeing that?”

After seeing this movie, I have to say that it was perhaps the best 2 hours that I have spent with my parents. 2 hours of not saying anything to each other save for occasional comedic commentary in Korean and the stifled snickers of my dad, who tends to laugh and say things to the screen when no one else does.

No, I am not alluding to the fact that my parents are senile because they aren’t. They’re just weird. But I have had “the talk” with my dad. You know, the one where he talks about how he doesn’t have much time left and how I will be responsible for my brother when he’s gone. We’ve yet to cover the birds and the bees. So the thought of my parents truly being old has crossed my mind.

I digress. You must see this movie. You will be reaffirmed of the power of music, and you will also realize that getting older just means that the body is beginning to realize that it can't contain the greatness that is the human spirit.

Young@Heart: *****

Ode to Bears

UC Berkeley School of Law - Boalt Hall
Candidate for JD, 2011

Ode to Chicks that Kick

If any of you have seen Almodovar’s All About My Mother, you must be familiar with his extensive use of The Streetcar Named Desire in that film. I didn’t know if it had any direct connections to Almodovar’s storyline but Almodovar did mention how he wanted his film to be a celebration of actresses, hence Streetcar. After watching Streetcar, I definitely agree with him on the strength of these actresses.

Don’t get me wrong. the men were also fantastic. I have yet to see enough to marvel at the “genius” that is Brando, but I think the Academy glossed over him (the sole nominated actor NOT to receive an Oscar) because it was just too hard to understand what he was saying. Maybe it was the dialect, but half of his lines sounded like an ailing automobile whining over its 200,000th mile. Kudos on a strong performance, but perhaps a diction lesson or two from Henry Higgins is in order.

Watching Vivian Leigh, I think it's safe to say that actors just don’t act like that any more. As per one of those ambiguous moments, I had a hard time wondering where they were taking her at the end of the movie (I hope I didn’t spoil that for anyone!), because—I’l just say it—Vivian Leigh is wacko in this movie. A very focused wacko, but I get the feeling that if she were my neighbor, I would be obsessed with spying on her through the blinds, while never actually talking to her face to face, for fear of getting stuck in a long winded conversation about nothing. Either that, or she would most likely mack on me or my younger brother hardcore (again, I hope I didn’t spoil anything for anyone!).

A Streetcar Named Desire: ****1/2

I’m sure if I read the play and return to this film, I will give it a resounding 5 stars.

Ode to Chicks and Flicks

If I’ve run into you within the past 4 months, chances are I’ve told you about how much I loved the movie In Her Shoes I probably told you about how I cried a lot at the end, and how even if you hate Cameron Diaz, it was ok because you’re kind of supposed to hate her in this one. If you hadn’t seen it, I probably told you to go home right away and rent it, and if you told me you’d already seen it, I probably told you to go home and rent it again because you’d missed all the great stuff that I found so wonderful about it.

What can I say? I’ve fallen for this genre, and I’ve fallen hard. But I hate the term “chick flick” because these days it has the connotation of some terrible film that a girl drags her boyfriend along to so she has an excuse to make “date night” a reality. All of you know how much Kate Hudson irks me on film, and how I loathe Mandy Moore on screen; they’re two of the reasons why I don’t like “chick flicks.”

Among the many dollar-theatre worthy selections, there lie a few highlights, and now I’ve added another alongside In Her Shoes and Bridget Jones’ Diary: The Jane Austen Book Club. I’ve yet to read the book, but I never considered myself much of an Austen fan. I used to scoff at Becky and her desire to watch the complete BBC Pride and Prejudice, and I envied Colin Firth for so effortlessly becoming the heartthrob of literary minded females everywhere. But this one was definitely a pleasant way to spend two hours.

I’ve always found it much more entertaining to watch a group of strong and interesting females than males, and based on film and tv viewership, I think the rest of America would agree. When chicks come to flicks, it’s ok to be confessional, ok to be a wreck, and even when things don’t end up ok, the women I admire so much in film these days seem all the better for their journeys. I think my favorite of the book club members would have to be Maria Bellow’s character. Maria Bello is, in my opinion, seriously underrated, possibly because I just can’t shake her from my memory of Coyote Ugly. Those of you who have seen this can agree or disagree with me.

Sure some of the story lines of the characters are less than believable, but if this little film can make me believe that there is a little bit of my own Austen-baggage in my own life, then I think it definitely succeeded.

The Jane Austen Book Club: ****

If you’re looking for another flick with chicks with a little less overarching narrative, then I would highly recommend is Nine Lives. No, I didn’t cry in it, but you will love it nonetheless.

Ode to Around-ing the World

How appropriate that after my trans-pacific, cross-continental travels I watch a man and his minority sidekick accomplish the feat in a mere eighty days. I have to admit, I had no interest in the movie other than the notable Oscar in the corner (winner for best picture in 1957) and the elaborate drawing of the hot air balloon on the DVD cover. I have a soft spot for hot air balloons and journeys made therein; Pippi Longstocking did it and so did this French guy in a children’s book I love so dearly.

I’ve had this desire to see every best picture. Something about the Oscar label makes me think watching that film can be a nice snapshot of film in that year, and a good 2-hour investment of a somewhat timeless cinematic experience. A best picture of one year will surely be considered notable for years and years to come, right?

It seems, however, that those years do have a limit. Never mind the sexually charged, perpetually tardy, “ethnic” sidekick (Passepartout is supposed to be Latin?) contrasted with the uptight, painfully punctual, libido frozen Brit Phileas Fogg. And never mind that Shirley MacLaine played an Indian (yes INDIAN) princess. I thought the movie was…dare I say it, boring. I understand that the film was made in a different era, made in the fashion of a genre with strict rules. But watching these three tackle one national obstacle after another, I might as well have been watching a home video of my relatives in Korea battling for the remote

I understand where the movie is coming from and making this film must have truly been an achievement back in 57. Released in a time when people were preparing to send people out into space, the filmmakers must have been aiming for Jules Verne's theme of possibility in all things impossible (I haven’t read the book, actually, so I could be totally off, but that’s what I gathered from the film’s introduction). But to me, this grand and truly timeless theme Verne put forth in his novel definitely did not translate here. It was just, the British guy, the ethnically ambiguous guy with a Mexican accent, and Shirley where’s-your-red-hair MacLaine in traditional Indian garb running through one continental diorama after another.

Around the World in Eighty Days
***

Ode to Recovery

It’s funny what a difference a small sandwich, fresh fruit, and a small travel-size bottle of wine can make. Well into the PM I now feel much better, if not just a tad bit apprehensive about my impending 11 hour flight. But only 11 hours! I just dipped my foot into Anna Karenina in my last flight from Seoul to Tokyo and it seems promising.

Now I just have to contemplate how many days after my previous post I should post this one. I’m still too cheap for internet, so I will most likely be in NYC by the time this makes it to the cybersphere.


P.S. I am, indeed, in NYC and have just had my first law school reception. More later. Maybe.

Ode to Disaster

I just got done talking to my friend Ahrum about my love-hate relationship with Korea. She, too, has a love/hate relationship that’s souring more on the hate side at the moment, but we always pull ourselves out of it. That’s how we misanthropes work.

After all the ups, downs, and side-to-sides, I’m really sad that I have to leave the country in this condition. I have just endured the most arduous morning of my entire life. Overdramatic? Ok, perhaps the most arduous morning of my life-long travelogue.

This was supposed to be a winter when I did things on my own. I frequented my relatives every now and then, cooked a ramen now and then, and worked out everyday. Don’t expect to see any noticeable results. I used the gym as an excuse to don shorts, listen to music, and grunt in spin class. But also for the first time, I made it to the airport all by myself. Or at least that’s how I’d planned it.

Tentative plans: 1) Check-in large luggage at nearby COEX airport terminal. 2) Have breakfast at my mom’s aunt’s restaurant right across the street at Samsung Station. 3) Return to apartment and tidy up. 4) Drop off key at Hoyah and walk to the bus stop about 1 block away with my backpack and suitcase.

The turnout: True to form, I tried to stay up all night watching tv and movies in order not to wake up too late. I also didn’t have a cell phone, which mean no alarm clock. 1) Fell asleep at around 4 am. I think my body was still winding down from going out to Club Day on Friday. 2) Wake up at 8 am feeling like a car has just run over me slowly. 3) Take my 2 large suitcases down two steep hills in order to catch a taxi on the main street. One of my bags must not have been packed properly because it kept on turning over as I rolled it down the hill. This made for an immensely frustrating (but probably quite hilarious to bystanders) experience. I actually saw people snickering at my fit of expletives and resorting to just dragging my bags down the hill. 4) Take a taxi to COEX only to find out that they only cater Korean Airlines and Asiana. I’m flying Japan Airlines. 5) Return to apartment only to repeat the entire process down to Hoyah where my “boss” helped me take my luggage to the bus stop.

After a prompt arrival at the airport, things should have been ok. After all, whenever you arrive early, that’s ALWAYS a good sign. Of course there are luggage issues and I have to rearrange my belongings, moving them from one suitcase to another. I know I tend to overreact a lot, but for some reason, going through that process of unzipping my suitcase for the world to see, even if there aren’t flashy undergarments to hide, seems like a complete violation. Like I have to drop my pants for a medical examination at Terminal 3. I know. Overreaction.

To top it all off, Incheon airport is apparently cracking down on carry-on luggage weight. This resulted in my having to pay over $100 to check in my small suitcase. This is criminal! I blame this all on my relatives who sent a year’s supply of dried seaweed and pungent chili pepper paste. No room for my recently acquired purchases –which by the way I am VERY satisfied with.

So here I sit once again waiting for another flight across the Pacific, my macbook succumbing to my fingers of fury over this incredible morning that has just passed before me. I was trying this whole new “positive-in; negative-out” mantra during my spin class because someone here told me I was too negative. So I have to sit here and think that somehow this whole experience will benefit me later on in life, when I’ll look back, chuckle, and say “wasn’t that funny?” Yeah, maybe in my next life as a piano mover.

Ode to "The Best Movie of the Year"

While film audiences in the United States cheered for this year's "Little Ms. Sunshine," I sat in my room in Korea wishing there was some other English programming on instead of Deal or No Deal. On an evening stroll, I came upon a dvd stand on the street and lo and behold, the film Roger Ebert earnestly proclaimed the best film of the year. So yes, I had high expectations. I'd seen the previews. My friends loved it, the press loved it, America loved it!

So for just a moment, please allow me to be very un-American.

This movie definitely had all the signs of a good "quirky" movie: indie music, cute animations superimposed over the footage, witty dialogue. But did anyone else feel like this was Gilmore Girls on crack?? I'm sorry, but all that witty banter and jaunty dialogue just did not sit well in my stomach. Yes it was directed by Jason Reitman who also directed Thank You for Smoking, but somehow, the nonchalant dialogue and quirkiness worked better for me in Thank You for Smoking than in Juno. Ellen Page irked me a bit in the previews and I was reassured that she was adorable and would evoke the desire to wrap your arms around her and her big pregnant belly (both by my friend AND Roger Ebert!). I tried. I really did. But put Juno in a room with Rory Gilmore and I would probably dig out both of my cochleas and throw one at each of them.

I didn't hate the movie. I enjoyed it. I laughed out loud--a first in quite some time. And Page's performance was quite impressive. No I didn't want to be her friend but I did want to hand her a tissue when she had her breakdowns and went into labor. And Michael Cera! Is anyone else sick of Michael Cera playing Michael Cera in EVERYTHING that he's in? I'm sure he's a cool guy and all, but come on! Do something edgy! Play gay! Do SOMETHING ELSE! Please!

And don't get me started on the music...

Enough of that. I think everyone else in this film has been horribly overlooked. Allison Janney is always hilarious and her husband played a freaky white supremacist on Oz. And Jason Bateman and Jennifer Garner. Jennifer Garner has always passed me like a slice of bland cheesecake, but I was impressed with her in this. If I wanted to extend my arms to anyone in embrace, it was Jennifer.

So for my first film of 2008, I award Juno 4 out of 5 stars. I'll give it credit for the one or two Oscars it'll take home, but a far cry from any best-of-the-year film in my opinion.

Juno: ****

Ode to Comebacks

This time it's for real. Two new years celebrations, one valentine's day, a journey through a little inspiration and a dive into the black hole, it's time to wax lyrical about all things important and unimportant. I have two more weeks in Seoul and these past couple months have felt like an eerie deja vu of Spain 2007. Except the movies aren't as good. The initial craziness surrounding law school acceptances has passed and I continue to obsess over law school internet forums. One can only read about how "great the people are" at every law school for so long. Immediately after returning home in March, I'll be starting my cross-country trip to visit some of you all and those schools that I poured so much of my heart and pocketbook into this past year.

After reading an article by the Newsweek film critic I was inspired to keep a film journal of every movie I watch. I watched some incredible films last year and regret that I won't be writing about those any time soon, but perhaps I'll see them later in life with a whole new perspective. That said, I haven't written a lick about any movie I've seen in this year of the rat.

So...

Ladies and gentlemen...

Alert the masses...

The film journal starts....

NOW.










But first!

An ode to the best comeback so far:


First a comeback; now for a throwback...