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...

Ode to Country

Quite possibly the sexiest song I've heard in a while.






Josh Turner - "No Rush"

It's up there with this one:

Ode to Comebacks

I blame it on the writers’ guild strike. But since Broadway has been resurrected, I feel I should do my part to push the rest of prime time tv writers to end all this. That and the fact that I’m waiting yet again in Terminal D of DFW International Airport waiting for my flight to Seoul via Tokyo. Unlike Cheryl, I’m too cheap to pay for internet at the airport so you’ll be reading this long after I’ve endured a full day of traveling.

That’s right. I’m coming/going back to Korea. This really is the last time. I’ve got a life you know. The blog may not be very representative of that but I’ve got plans. For once. August is set—now I just need to know where. I have grand plans for Buenos Aires or Scandinavia after my law school tour taking the lessons learned from Spain 2007. I may even buy my own car. Baby steps be darned; I’m jumping milestones.

Does anyone have tips for flight anxiety reduction? I’ve flown so many times it’s not even funny. And yet, every time I board that plane, it really isn’t funny. I get that guttural cough stemming from the nervous juices brewing in my stomach. I watched a video clip on the new york times about people whose flight anxiety prevented them from every flying. They were guided through a program that concluded with a cross-country flight. The participants would all support each other, kind of like a lamaze class. I want someone like that here now. I’ve got one in my bag; his name is Advil PM but he has proven unreliable in the past.

The head of the plane is staring me straight on. Three LSG Sky Chefs truck unload our on flight meals. Instead of the direct Korean Air route, I opted for the much cheaper American Airlines. I hope the food is good. I already know that there is no complimentary alcohol. A margarita sounds really good right now but I think I’ll welcome Mr. Sandman with the pill. The sky carries a most welcoming and advantageous blue and here’s that feeling I have when I’m leaving the ground that rumbles all the way to my house 15 minutes away. It’s a strange feeling, but one made much better when I know that I’ll be coming back in 3 months to an uncertainty that for once isn’t all that frightening.

Ode to Action Heroes

Mom sits on the floor up against one couch and I recline in the other. This is what my whole lotta nothin consists of these days. Thursdays and Sundays are always prime nights for television and if I’m not working, the other nights are filled with random surprises. The other night featured an old Korean drama dvd that my mom missed out on when we lived in Los Angeles.

Before the opening credits began, a blue screen came up with a bunch of scrolling Korean text. I saw the number 15 and my mom said something that involved the number 15. I should mention that a lot of my Korean comprehension relies heavily on context clues. Speak out of context and I won’t understood a single word you say. Immediately I understood this all to mean that after 15 viewings the dvd would self destruct in the dvd player. It happened on Mission Impossible, and that disc self-destructed in a sizzle of smoke after just one play.

I asked my mom in disbelief. She squinted her eyes and threw her head back in laughter. The sad part is that for a split second I honestly said to myself, “Hey, that could actually happen.” My mom continued cackling and didn’t have to say a word for me to realize how ridiculous I was.

Somehow, my boring old, suburban self thinks up these bizarre Hollywood plots in the most mundane situations. Every scenario becomes a worst-case scenario with an elaborate escape plan. What happens if my Cressida goes out of control on a bridge and I crash into the water below? I’ve thought about that, and I’m stuck at figuring out how long it would be before the water pressure kept me from being able to open my door. Airplane emergency landings? I’d grab my clarinet from under my seat and fend off the flight attendants who demand that I leave it behind as I glide down the inflatable slide. This explains why I’m a pretty cautious driver and a border line alcoholic on overseas flights.

The 15 was merely a reference to the recommended viewing age. PG-15. My reasoning skills in such a situation make me doubt my future success in any law school. But right now as I approach the waiting game of law school acceptances/rejections and my friends continue to shake and move, I’ll hold on to my fantasies. Besides, who wants a rated G-life?

Ode to Soundtracks

Do people still purchase movie soundtracks? The latest soundtrack that I can think of with any widespread appeal was Titanic and before that The Bodyguard. I was quite the fan of the Magnolia soundtrack with all Aimee Mann, but I don't think that caught on quite like "My Heart Will Go On." I'm feeling a little karaoke coming on...

If your life was a movie, what would be the soundtrack?
Instructions:

1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend your cool... & a lot of the songs fit with
the setting


Opening Credits:
The Feeling – I Want You Now

Waking Up:
Sheryl Crow – My Favorite Mistake

First Day At School:
Keane – Put It Behind You

Falling In Love:
Rent: Original Broadway Cast - Finale

Fight Song:
Scissor Sisters - Ooh

Breaking Up:
The Dixie Chicks – Am I the Only One (Who’s Ever Felt This Way)

Prom:
98 Degrees – Because of You

Life:
Brooks & Dunn – You’re Gonna Miss Me When I’m Gone

Mental Breakdown:
Kenny Chesney – She’s Got It All

Driving:
Real McCoy – Come and Get Your Love

Flashback:
Robin Thicke – Got 2 Be Down

Getting back together:
John Mayer – My Stupid Mouth

Wedding:
Coldplay – God Put a Smile Upon Your Face

Birth of Child:
Beck - Ramshackle

Final Battle:
Norah Jones – The Long Way Home

Death Scene:
‘NSync - Celebrity

Funeral:
Schumann – Fairy Tales

End Credits:
Schubert: Octet in F major

Now I'm not much for these types of internet surveys, but a couple of my friends did it and I was intrigued. A couple confessions. 1) The first song that came up was one that I was far too embarrassed to put on here. So yes, I lied a little bit but keeping that part of my dignity means more to me than "pretending to be cool." 2) A couple Korean songs came up and I just didn't think that would be appropriate for my English-speaking/writing/reading audience.

I'm quite pleased. Breaking Up, Mental Breakdown, and Getting Back Together are nice serendipitous touches. Death Scene? Not so much.

Ode to Boyhood

Completely and utterly shameless.

Three things to say:

1) You too can purchase my entire outfit for right around $100. (I think quite a departure from perhaps some of the other entries on there).

2) I was checking out an item to my left at the flea market that I hadn't quite gotten to yet.

3) Said item was purchased. Yes, it looks ridiculous, and yes, it may be a woman's shirt. But I'm going to find some place to wear it.

Ode to Chicago

2.5 days of driving, a short stay in Boston, and then a nice comfortable flight to Chicago, the windy city. Fortunately, there was not so much wind, a whole lot of sun, and best of all, a whole lot of Cheryl. On the other hand, jet lag continued to linger on by a string and I was often met by Mr. Sandman a few hours earlier than I would have liked. Or perhaps that was a result of the wonderful cuisine?

Needless to say, what seemed like a daily tryptophan overdose was totally worth it.

First stop: a bit of Viet and a touch of Thai. I have no photos to document this.

Next, a satisfactory pasta lunch followed by an exquisite lemon Italian ice. Still no photos.

Deep dish dinner, at last. My mom and I were robbed of a first NYC-pizza moment when we took a Korean bus tour of the city. I was not about to let that happen in the city where pizza is religion. No photos of the dinner, but left-overs to come.

And then there was the day where we simply ate:

Starting off with a true taste of Chicago...





Followed by a snack on the Navy Pier...



Dinner in Puerto Rico...




Topped off with Cheryl's favorite ice cream (she has a membership card)...





A final culinary farewell from the windy city: leftovers...




So perhaps this post should be retitled an "Ode to Cheryl," for whom I would not have been able to experience the sights, sounds, and tastes of Chicago.

And now I cleanse.

Ode to Comfort

It's been a while. I know. And the whole purpose of this blog--at least of late--was to share to the web community those things wonderful and great even in the most mundane of days. Sometimes it gets to a point, though, where things are just so comfortable that you suffer from blogger's block. Life falls into routine and the daily surprises that would otherwise be blog-worthy are so precious that I just want to keep it for myself. Keeping them to myself, and thus keeping them forever in the present without thinking about leaving.

I looked back at my blog post a year ago at this exact moment. I had too much luggage, too many shoes, and too many anxieties. One year later, I've got my shoes under control, just about everything but my toiletries packed, and a Macbook to document the goings-on right as they happen. Still a couple anxieties, but we'll save that for a later post.

An all too familiar scene:




I hate cliches, but this recent voyage to Korea has been a "charming" third time for several people. I would certainly have to attest to this; my third time in Korea, Hoyah chaos and all, has indeed been very charming. Perhaps a bit too charming. Reconnecting with old friends, making new friends, saying goodbye to friends, and promising reunions. But that was all expected. This last time in Korea I rekindled my relationship with the gym, found a great new hair place, and fell in love with hidden retail treasures (i.e., shopped). This wasn't supposed to happen. I was just supposed to teach, make some new friends, and complain a lot. That's what happens in Korea.

I should be sleeping, but there's just too much of this experience that I don't want to end. It was hard enough lifting my fingers to confirm my departure to the blogosphere, but I know that if I fall asleep, tthe process of waking will bring me just that much closer to having to say goodbye to all of this.

Is this what people meant by "charming"?

Ode to Validation

Two posts in one day! The previous one was short so this is to compensate.

You all have seen this before.

But during a recent perusal, THIS one caught my eye:



Notice the socks and shoes. Everything else is far beyond my price range, but from the waist down, that is ME last week and the week before. This man just might be my couture doppelganger.

Good to see that someone else on this planet appreciates the shorts-black patterned socks-white sneakers combination.

Ode to 'Mo

What happens when you take one of the GAYEST songs in one of the GAYEST musical genres and then mix it with an equally GAY musical genre?

Quite possibly the GAYEST song ever.

"And I am Telling You" from Dreamgirls, performed by Jennifer Hudson, dance remix.

So the first time I heard it in spin class, I was pleasantly surprised only because I was baffled as to how the spin instructor got a hold of this monstrosity.

Second time, all you can really do is scrunch your face and think "Really? Why does this exist?"

I think I'm addicted to spinning. Prepare yourselves to be dazzled by my tree-trunk legs when I return to the States. August 25th!

Ode to Criticism

Another grueling session at Hoyah Academy. Somehow I always leave Korea with a nice feeling of satisfaction, a feeling like I've actually done something. I may not have changed anyone's life, but if I can keep someone entertained for two hours or bump a Toefl score up a couple points, my job is done.

After a substantial amount of time with the students, I always hand out my own evaluation. This is just a chance for the students to give anonymous feedback--although many of them foolishly state something on the evaluation that blatantly gives away their identity--and to take up time in class. What can I say? By the end of the session, they're lazy, I'm lazy, and I might as well make them suffer for it, not me.

I give these evaluations out knowing that only a handful will be of any use to me. Some comments are actually useful; others are...either glimpses of the kids' sense of humor or just the students being lazy even with an evaluation that I say SHOULD BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY. I'm pretty sure it's the latter, since very few of them have developed any sense of humor that extends beyond slapstick Korean humor and the occasional bathroom joke or faux-fanity (e.g., Shut the FRont door, You MOTHERFAther, etc).

Just a few of the highlights:

3 suggestions on how I can be a better teacher:
1) You need to smile sometimes.
2) I hope you are enjoying staying in Korea.
3) Speak Korean!
I was quick to mention to this student that #2 was not a suggestion and #3 would not be possible in a Toefl SPEAKING class. #1 I said I would consider.

More suggestions:
1) Eat many protein food. You have to recharge your energy. I think Paul need more energy cause he will get a lot of stresses..
This coming from a student who is one citation away from being blacklisted from Hoyah Academy.

1) Paul should teach how to write essay.
We spent the entire month working on essays.

2) You should learn some jokes.
I don't think this student's parents are paying a fortune for a stand-up routine.

1) Reduce your passion little bit for us.
Can I help it if I'm such a passionate person???

1) I like your style!...but...maybe, change your style?
Is this English???

3) Don't fold the end of your pants. It looks not good. I mean, it looks weird to me.

Ode to Girl Power

It's official.

The Spice Girls are coming back for a reunion tour that will TAKE THEM ALL OVER THE GLOBE! When I heard about this, I immediately went to the website, registered for my tickets--which will be distributed at random--and sat back, puzzled. Was I really excited about this? For some reason, the sheer insanity of a possible Spice Girls reunion had just gotten the better of my TOEFL-essay-burdened mind and had swept me up into girl power once more.

I do hold a great deal of affection for the Spice Girls. But just about as much affection as I do for spam, McDonald's, topless beaches, Mary Roach Guildbeaux, and all the other ridiculous things on this blog. Sure, I always found Posh quite fetching back in the day with dark hair and was in awe of Sporty's acrobatic skills. Or how about when Scary would create two horns on her head with that wild head of hair? The Spice Girls had invaded the States with a vengeance and I didn't quite mind being recolonized by this 5-some.

I was late jumping onto the spice wagon. When they came out with their debut in the States, I was still into loud alternative, loud ska, loud rock, loudanything. Although my first album purchases were No Doubt's Tragic Kingdom and Alanis Morisette's Jagged Little Pill, respectively, even those were relegated to the back of the cd binder as the Smashing Pumpkins took center stage in the cd player. I was still wearing clothes 3 sizes too big and I was just too angry, too serious, and too insecure to give the Spice Girls even a fleeting glance.

It wasn't until the Spice Girls became the SPICE GIRLS that I jumped head first into the phenomenon. At this point, it was clear that they weren't out there trying to be taken seriously as artists. They were just 5 women--only later to reduced to 4--who were part of some global pop megalomania, out to have a good time. Watching the spice girls fall further and further from their reign as pop royalty, I found myself liking them even more. No matter how bad any subsequent album or single could be, they were and forever would be the SPICE GIRLS. At that point, is it even worth it to care? Is it even worth it to take yourself seriously? Other people lamented the lack of pop ingenuity that defined their early career; I applauded it, as if I, too, were in on the joke.

I'm currently renavigating my way through Proust's Swann's Way. I first read the first installment of In Search of Lost Time my freshman year of college and it all whooshed over my head. Funny how years later, inside a McDonald's eating my weekly Big Mac value meal that my own madeleine materialized. I've already been reminded of my affinity for bad pop music with a recent run-in with S Club 7, but now to have the company of 5 even more special ladies during my Big Mac lunch. And best of all, it wasn't one of their greatest hits. Wannabe, Say You'll Be There, 2 Become 1, etc. etc...they could have been singing to anybody. No. Instead it was Track 7 off of their sophomore album Spiceworld, "Do It." Even I had forgotten that this song ever existed. I may have been sitting their taking in more than half of my daily caloric intake, but mentally, I was back in high school remembering how none of us were too cool for school and that it really was ok to just lay back and have some fun.