NO COOKIE FOR YOU!
Dec. 3rd, 2004 09:45 pmWow, I'm so incredibly angry and annoyed.
I drove to San Diego this morning to attend the mandatory pre-departure meeting for the London Spring Semester, and met my American professors and several prospective friends. I'll probably end up living in the homestay with someone not from California, as it appeared that the majority of the CSU students were doing the apartment slumming thing.
I was very pleased to know that the homestays do offer limited laundry facilities, so I probably won't blow all my money on food and laundromats (after all, there's the hookers and booze to consider, no? Except for the entire no-alcohol thing and the entire uncomfortable paying people for sex thing).
The drive to San Diego was amazing - not only did I not get lost going there, I didn't get lost on the way back either - and the scenery up there is incredible. I know it's a cliche to say this, but the view of the ocean, as I was driving up there? Enough to break your heart. It's just so vast and awe-inspiring. And so BLUE. I'll miss that when I leave.
So that wasn't what made me angry - it was going to the Block afterwards so I could do some holiday shopping (stocking up for clothes and essentials for England).
I also decided to check out a movie. I saw House of Flying Daggers. Cue the incredible seething rage - I should never ever again watch a foreign language film in a place like the Block (ginormous shopping complex in Orange). Because the demographic that the Block aims at is precisely the demographic I fear, despise, and mock on a daily basis - the young teenysomethings, the new generation of punk rockers, this year's models of kinderwhores - they're all there. And to be completely condescending and mean, the average attention span and intelligence of the masses that congregate there is just about enough to sit through your average popcorn entertainment boxbluster, but switch the language or GOD FORBID SUBTITLES SO YOU HAVE TO READ, and then it's inappropriate laughter, cellphones ringing, people talking loudly, talking-whispering, and "Do you get it? I didn't get it."
OHMYGOD IT'S NOT THE GODDAMN MATRIX, PEOPLE.
To me, the genre of martial arts films is akin to the recent comic book movie deluge - martial arts films are like the Asian version of comic books. They explore myths and stories through the choreography of these (extra)ordinary people - so when there's flying through trees or dancing with silk streamers, or a sudden shift in the weather - that's like when Spiderman is bounding from building to building or Batman has just noticed the bat signal in the sky. It's folklore, basically. (I'm also totally ignoring Manga at the moment - funnily enough, the korean word manwha is what my grandma calls comics too)
But these cretins....just...I just know they're the type of people who thought Kangaroo Jack was an awesome movie. They probably saw Catwoman, too.
It's enough to make a girl want to call down the Monkey King so he COULD BEAT THEIR ASSES.
A non spoilery review - beautifully shot (though I preferred Hero's cinematography), and when there's not an actress like Maggie Cheung or Michelle Yeoh to take attention away from her, Zhang Ziyi is very impressive - something I've noticed particularly about foreign-born Asian stars, that they're very expressive in their faces, and stillness is an incredible asset - it's not so much about the quippy line for them, but the silence and how they use it. The plot is sort of top heavy - it suffers from JJitis, but I'll say 89% of the time, it worked. Takeshi Kaneshiro continues to be entrancing and has a bit of Legolas like verve (okay, I loved the LoTR movies, and Orlando's probably never been as cool in a film role since), and he has to walk the fine line between complete playboy bastard and beauuuuutiful, moving hero. Andy Lau has the harder task of keeping the film's secret.
I'm making cards this weekend. If you've put a poll and I haven't answered it, I may have your address already (from an earlier time) or I might have completely missed it. If you could just put in my comments where your card swap is, I'll try to get everyone I can before I leave for England - but I'll put up my UK mailing address in a separate entry.
I need some chocolate now.
ETA: Just so this post isn't completely full of vitrolic rage, I found out that my friend Mq has met her very own Mark Darcy. I'm so incredibly happy for her - she's had a bad two years and she's one of my favorite and oldest friends - she deserves happiness, she deserves goodness, and this guy appears to be all that and more. What with Mq and her MD, Mg getting married, and B if not on the on the way to the altar, pretty damn close to it - our little circle of spinster homebodies is dwindling down to me. I shall carry the torch of immaturity and singleness for a little while longer. There's going to be a whole country of people I haven't horrified yet....
ETA2: Translation is always difficult - when I was sitting there reading along and also listening to the dialogue, I understood about 90% of it, but there were some words that just didn't go with the subtitles and I think a good part of the backstory was lost in that fashion - and there were sounds that sounded familiar but I didn't know the words. It's a strange experience watching a movie in Mandarin and reading subtitles at the same time, and then checking it against the mental dictionary I have. I wonder if that's the same for any multilingual person?
ETA3: I drove by Cardiff-by-the-sea while on my way to San Diego.
I drove to San Diego this morning to attend the mandatory pre-departure meeting for the London Spring Semester, and met my American professors and several prospective friends. I'll probably end up living in the homestay with someone not from California, as it appeared that the majority of the CSU students were doing the apartment slumming thing.
I was very pleased to know that the homestays do offer limited laundry facilities, so I probably won't blow all my money on food and laundromats (after all, there's the hookers and booze to consider, no? Except for the entire no-alcohol thing and the entire uncomfortable paying people for sex thing).
The drive to San Diego was amazing - not only did I not get lost going there, I didn't get lost on the way back either - and the scenery up there is incredible. I know it's a cliche to say this, but the view of the ocean, as I was driving up there? Enough to break your heart. It's just so vast and awe-inspiring. And so BLUE. I'll miss that when I leave.
So that wasn't what made me angry - it was going to the Block afterwards so I could do some holiday shopping (stocking up for clothes and essentials for England).
I also decided to check out a movie. I saw House of Flying Daggers. Cue the incredible seething rage - I should never ever again watch a foreign language film in a place like the Block (ginormous shopping complex in Orange). Because the demographic that the Block aims at is precisely the demographic I fear, despise, and mock on a daily basis - the young teenysomethings, the new generation of punk rockers, this year's models of kinderwhores - they're all there. And to be completely condescending and mean, the average attention span and intelligence of the masses that congregate there is just about enough to sit through your average popcorn entertainment boxbluster, but switch the language or GOD FORBID SUBTITLES SO YOU HAVE TO READ, and then it's inappropriate laughter, cellphones ringing, people talking loudly, talking-whispering, and "Do you get it? I didn't get it."
OHMYGOD IT'S NOT THE GODDAMN MATRIX, PEOPLE.
To me, the genre of martial arts films is akin to the recent comic book movie deluge - martial arts films are like the Asian version of comic books. They explore myths and stories through the choreography of these (extra)ordinary people - so when there's flying through trees or dancing with silk streamers, or a sudden shift in the weather - that's like when Spiderman is bounding from building to building or Batman has just noticed the bat signal in the sky. It's folklore, basically. (I'm also totally ignoring Manga at the moment - funnily enough, the korean word manwha is what my grandma calls comics too)
But these cretins....just...I just know they're the type of people who thought Kangaroo Jack was an awesome movie. They probably saw Catwoman, too.
It's enough to make a girl want to call down the Monkey King so he COULD BEAT THEIR ASSES.
A non spoilery review - beautifully shot (though I preferred Hero's cinematography), and when there's not an actress like Maggie Cheung or Michelle Yeoh to take attention away from her, Zhang Ziyi is very impressive - something I've noticed particularly about foreign-born Asian stars, that they're very expressive in their faces, and stillness is an incredible asset - it's not so much about the quippy line for them, but the silence and how they use it. The plot is sort of top heavy - it suffers from JJitis, but I'll say 89% of the time, it worked. Takeshi Kaneshiro continues to be entrancing and has a bit of Legolas like verve (okay, I loved the LoTR movies, and Orlando's probably never been as cool in a film role since), and he has to walk the fine line between complete playboy bastard and beauuuuutiful, moving hero. Andy Lau has the harder task of keeping the film's secret.
I'm making cards this weekend. If you've put a poll and I haven't answered it, I may have your address already (from an earlier time) or I might have completely missed it. If you could just put in my comments where your card swap is, I'll try to get everyone I can before I leave for England - but I'll put up my UK mailing address in a separate entry.
I need some chocolate now.
ETA: Just so this post isn't completely full of vitrolic rage, I found out that my friend Mq has met her very own Mark Darcy. I'm so incredibly happy for her - she's had a bad two years and she's one of my favorite and oldest friends - she deserves happiness, she deserves goodness, and this guy appears to be all that and more. What with Mq and her MD, Mg getting married, and B if not on the on the way to the altar, pretty damn close to it - our little circle of spinster homebodies is dwindling down to me. I shall carry the torch of immaturity and singleness for a little while longer. There's going to be a whole country of people I haven't horrified yet....
ETA2: Translation is always difficult - when I was sitting there reading along and also listening to the dialogue, I understood about 90% of it, but there were some words that just didn't go with the subtitles and I think a good part of the backstory was lost in that fashion - and there were sounds that sounded familiar but I didn't know the words. It's a strange experience watching a movie in Mandarin and reading subtitles at the same time, and then checking it against the mental dictionary I have. I wonder if that's the same for any multilingual person?
ETA3: I drove by Cardiff-by-the-sea while on my way to San Diego.
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