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.