Elle le regarde

I haven't watched Un long dimanche de fiançailles (A Very Long Engagement) yet, but I definitely will, someday. It is directed by the same person who directed Amelie. I don't know very many French actors, but I loved Audrey Tautou in Amelie and I can look at Gaspard Ulliel all day. Haha.

Apparently, this is the ending of the movie. From what I heard, Gaspard's character has lost his memory after fighting in WWI, but his fiance (Audrey Tautou) can still smile because he's still alive.

Uncaged

I was once the pulsing bird trapped in your ribcage
Carrying a song in your burning chest
I heard your voice, your laugh, your cry
Slice through skin like a shaft from Eros
I could listen, but I could not see.

My cage is exquisite, an architectural wonder
It resembles you so -- except smarter, taller, kinder
Like an airbrushed demigod lurking in a dream
My desire carries the oxygen to your veins
And I alone keep this illusion alive.

Nobody remembers the heart, the poor thing.
Hidden, forgotten, taken for granted
I am trapped within my own creation:
A flawless phantom of the falconer who
Caught songbirds for pleasure of hunt.

Only when I heard her sickeningly fawning purr.
Coaxing the lust in your throat to bloom
Did I finally see who you really are --

Cause of Death: Cardiac Arrest
And the songbird rises free.

17 Candles

We really are too similar, you and I. Circling like two panthers, waiting for the other to make the first move. What was the other analogy I once used? Right. Two solitary kings in a stalemate.

So you truly want to learn more? I shall oblige, but if the silence stays, I cannot keep waiting.

1. I was almost named Cassandra by my godmother.
2. My eyes turn a golden brown color in the face of the sun.
3. The silver chain almost never leaves my neck.
4. My childhood favorite was a stuffed clouded leopard kitten named Momo.
5. I absolutely detest nail polish with an absurdly fiery passion.
6. Ever since I picked up the garden hose and squished the idiot slug resting on the hose, I have stayed away from slugs ever since.
7. I am the type of person who will "rescue" a spider by releasing it into the yard, rather than skooshing it with tissue paper like an unfazed housewife.
8. I am a prude who disliked the Little Mermaid and Jasmine when I was young because they were half-naked above the waist. This is the same prude who never has and never will wear a two-piece bathing suit because she is too self-conscious.
9. I like browsing through pictures of ball-joint dolls. People find them creepy but they're just jealous they will never be as pretty.
10. I possess the incredibly useless talent of having a good memory for birthdays.
11. I was obsessed with Sailor Moon from preschool to first grade, until C remarked one day, "Geez, why are you so crazy about Sailor Moon?" and effectively burst my bubble.
12. Reading Wasteland by Francesca Lia Block was the turning point of my writing style. Reading Ariel by Sylvia Plath was the turning point of my experimentation with minimalism.
13. Orchids are my favorite flowers.
14. I dislike cake, whipped cream, cream puffs, chocolate ice cream, and tea. I love anything spicy.
15. I refused to get my hair cut shorter than shoulder-length when I was young. (Funny how things change.)
16. If I could change one physical feature of myself, I would change my voice.
17. For the first time in my existence, I have a birthday wish.

"Folding
The sun is turning inside-out of the universe so
Cupid, Cupid
Please aim your arrow at my sleeping flower
One time
Cupid, Cupid

I can't keep waiting for you
I can't keep expecting you"

-- "Cupid" by OLIVIA

Natalie Portman's Rap (& Other Curiosities)

For your enjoyment.
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I wish Fye existed in real life. He seems like a good person to talk to.

Writing personal statements for college is hard. It requires much excavation of the past, and usually that means digging up something I would much rather forget. It also means poking at all your wounds and weaknesses in order to find a deeper meaning.

My maternal grandmother and my mother are very similar; both are very independent and principled women. My grandmother reminds me of Mrs. Brasher - I don't know if most Taiwanese have this trait, but my grandmother has that naturally loud and husky voice that kept my cousin and me from falling asleep when we were young. She pretty much ran the family cloth business, and even today, she rides off on her motorcycle/scooter and is very active in the community. I associate "unstoppable" with someone like her.

My mother is very similar - though her voice isn't as penetrating, she is highly principled and isn't influenced by how others think of her. Once, I was talking to her about Charlene's mother, a no-nonsense woman who often gets straight to the point, and she remarked, "I'd rather have a friend like her who will tell it to my face than someone who greets you with warm hugs but talks bad about you behind your back."

Unfortunately, I don't think those characteristics passed down to me. I would like to believe I am just as independent and principled, but I cannot deny that I am affected by how people think of me. I tend not to act on my emotions or whims, precisely because I am afraid of what people will think. There have been times in my past when somebody would make fun of my hair and whatnot - I would go home visibly upset, and my mother would simply respond, "So? Who cares what they think?"

People often tell me, "Take the initiative and act first, or you'll lose your chance." I don't know how many chances I've left slip, but I still don't think I've found the courage. Is it better to feel safe and possibly regret later, or to gamble without second thoughts?

On another note, I was walking my dog through the park earlier tonight. It's incredibly calming to just walk around by yourself without having to do anything besides keeping an eye on the dog; I tend to do my best thinking outside, in the car, or in the shower. In any case, not at school. Anyways, I remember there was a Mandarin show my parents used to watch on Sunday nights. It no longer exists, but I remember there was one segment of the show that was my mother's favorite. It was in Mandarin, so I never understood how the show worked, but I got the general idea. If I was creating the show for American television, it would go like this:

The show features a team of top-level detectives and investigators, only they are not investigating crimes. Every episode, somebody (most likely a celebrity - but the ideal is anyone with a good, moving story) is introduced to the show as a guest. There is somebody the guest has lost touch with but longs to meet again. The hosts of the show interview the guest - who was this person, what was their relationship, how did they lose touch, etc. Before each show is aired, they film a brief re-enactment of the guest and the lost person's past with professional actors. The show plays this re-enactment, and then the film screen on the set plays a segment following the detective team's attempt to trace the lost person. The film ends right before the lead detective (who, ideally, should have a good sense of humor, to keep the detective segment exciting) is about to contact the lost person.

The show then refocuses back onto the hosts and the guest. (This is really like a talk show, more than anything.) After some talk and whatnot, the attention is turned towards this elaborate elevator-like door on the set. Across the top of the door are illuminated numbers from zero to ten. When the countdown begins, the numbered lights flash in a countdown. At zero, the door opens up and a cloud of smoke and fog clouds the doorway dramatically.

In the ideal situation, the lost person walks out of the door and is reunited with the guest. Or if the person was contacted but couldn't make it, the door opens to reveal a stand with a telephone, and the guest dials the person's number on the show's speaker phone. If the team couldn't find the person - he/she died or disappeared - then a relative or friend comes instead and breaks the news.

I don't know about what others think, but if this show actually existed, I would be fairly interested in it. I have an affinity towards these kinds of stories, and I think everyone has drifted away from somebody at some point. Personally, I think this type of "reality show" beats the crap out of those superficial "Bachelor" and other shallow reality shows.





I should stop reading so much. My expectations are way too high.

Mon Dieu

Somebody up there is having a sick laugh at my expense.

Allegory

Once upon a time, they called her Heartless. She denounced love as a chemical reaction, as meaningless as the water that flowed from her tear ducts. Absorbed in her own works of art, she neglected and dutifully avoided participating in the tangled game of romance. And yet, while her art was beautifully adorned with technical and artistic mastery, it was cold and statuesque, lacking the vitality and mortality of life.

When Catalyst surfaced into view, portfolio of his own art in hand, the reaction that had been slowly churning began to ignite. Awed by the earthen beauty of Catalyst's work - the very quality she lacked - she was swept into the illusion that Catalyst would become the muse, the breath of life that she needed. Inspired, she created a series of masterpieces, each one bubbling livelier than before. The caged flower began to unfurl, the spikes of green slowly exposing the pink flesh beneath.

But the Catalyst she had created in her mind was as lifeless and unattainable as the cold flawlessness that had defined her past. While her output increased dramatically, his diminshed softly until nothing was left, save the past. Catalyst did not care for art and certainly did not care for someone without a heart.

When her illusion shattered, the outpour of her work accelerated frantically, maddeningly. She sought to relieve the devastation and misery, but nothing she created could exhaust the draining burden she carried in -- what? Her heart? She sought for life and has found it in the ripened flesh of the blood-red flower. The excruciating agony Catalyst had left is far from cold and lifeless. The searing pain bleeds and the wound hurts to touch - a reminder that she is still alive.

And this is the story of Heart & Crossbones.

Doll

Are you avoiding me?

Don't play dumb.

Eyes circle like planets

Everywhere but here

Does my face make you

Cower, wince, cry?

Lips like puckered wounds,

Crackled resin skin,

Hideous? No, no? Are you

Disgusted, repulsed? No really--

Tell me.

Shelved aside, here the

Dust collects in my hair

Blush ashens to gray

So I embarrass you?

My dear, we are through.

Coloratura

No matter how long or loud I sing
The hurt won't escape past my lips.

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"In the seventeenth chapter of “The Voyage of the Beagle,” Charles Darwin turned to the mating habits of the giant Galápagos tortoise. 'When the male and female are together, the male utters a hoarse roar or bellowing, which, it is said, can be heard at the distance of more than 100 yards,' he wrote. This is also the most accurate description that we possess of the duet performed by Mick Jagger and Christina Aguilera in 'Shine a Light,' Martin Scorsese’s documentary on the Rolling Stones."

- Anthony Lane, "Not Fade Away", The New Yorker

An Anagram for "Romp"

Oh Spring, how do I hate thee? Let me count the ways.

1) I hate how AP testing is right around the corner, and I don't know shit in biology.

2) I hate how I failed to pass the final round of Panel for the second time in a row.

3) I hate how I actually feel like writing EP again, but I have yet to finish The Great Gatsby homework. I also hate Tom and Daisy, and I feel sorry for Gatsby, but that's a different story.

4) I hate how I feel pressured to do something great and productive this summer before senior year, which means filling out a bunch of applications and waiting to see if I'm worthy enough to get into their summer programs.

5) I hate how I will be seventeen in exactly two weeks.

6) I hate how because I have been playing so little tennis recently, I am playing like shit.

7) I hate how I just found out I got rejected from another thing. God, this is not a good week.

8) And mostly, I hate this frantic prom season.

So today, two of my closest friends were asked to the prom, and in both instances, I happened to be sitting/standing right next to them. It was actually pretty thrilling being the person watching, as opposed to, you know, being one of the two involved. A got me all pumped up in anticipation for J's potential suitor, and thus I was high on adrenaline and whooping my head off. (Did I mention I love the feeling of adrenaline? When I really start getting competitive, it's so much fun mouthing off barbaric yawps. Anyways.)

What I hate is all this gossip. I cannot stand all this secrecy; it drives me nuts. I have mental images of these guys checking names off of lists one-by-one like a demented Agatha Christie novel. (... and then there were none! ...Okay, that was lame, even for me.) Obviously, it's not a flattering thought. As A noted, it's as if we are a herd of cows, waiting in line for our turn to the slaughterhouse. (Okay, I added that last part. But still.)

Furthermore, my future looks grim. The two most probable possibilities are:

1. I will be the only girl without a date amongst my group of friends, or

2. I succumb to peer pressure (and the dumb tradition that people go in pairs) and end up sticking around the entire evening with someone I would feel awkward with. And considering I don't talk to very many people, that would consist of nearly every single person left.

So, basically, I will either be a happy loner or an unhappy conformist.

Yes, it's an either/or fallacy. But I think the chances of the third alternative happening are anorexically slim.

And frankly, if it comes down to _________, I think I will go alone in combat boots and set a bonfire in the middle of the dance floor. Then I will pull out my guitar and sing obscene songs until the chaperones throw me out. Now, that's a night to remember.

Solitaire

Destroy

Something beautiful that we can't put back

Together.

Vespertine

What is this? What do they mean?

The signals evanesce

Like hide-and-seek ghosts

Dearest, the lights have been flickering

On and off

In delirious suspension

Suspended on a spider's thread, and I

Am phenylethylamine --

Crystalline tears of Venus

Dissolving in the liquid moon

Aphrodisiac

And you, wolf-child

Cast the questioning howl

La lune is silent

But her light does not waver.

My Sassy Rip-off

Anybody who used to read my xanga before I moved to blogspot might remember the rant I wrote about Hollywood butchering Asian movies. Well apparently, this is the trailer for My Sassy Girl.

I am sorry, but from what I've seen from the trailer, Elisha Cuthbert is nothing compared to Jun Ji-hyun. Her character has none of that "wanna-die" coolness. She comes across instead as whiny and obnoxious. Many of the scenes have also been remade, and they are fairly disappointing.

Take the slapping scene, for instance. In the original Korean movie, the soliders all cross the line on the same foot, which only heightened the audience's horrified amusement as Jun Ji-hyun prepared to slap Gyeon-woo, who would suffer a slap for every soldier that crossed the line. And in the American remake, you get Jesse Bradford and Elisha Cuthbert slapping each other silly, because I suppose American marching bands don't march in rhythm on the same foot. Somehow, I find it childish rather than funny.

Plus, it looks like the remake will use most of the same scenes, which I find rather strange. The movie incorporates a lot of Asian crossovers, such as the Girl's kendo hobby. How many people in America play kendo?

Of course, this is all based on the two and a half minutes of the trailer. But still. Now I feel like watching the Korean My Sassy Girl, but unfortunately, I have homework to do.

Ciao.