Mother Goose, You Sly Gal

A nursery rhyme about children and the day of the week they were born on:


"Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for its living,
But the child that's born on the Sabbath Day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay."


Is this a bad time for me to bring up that I was born on a Wednesday?

Milk, Munchies, Meandering, and Muppets in a Matter of Minutes

Our manager's 5-year old knocked on the door, to come in and hang out. He proceeded to climb on the couch and pace around the living room, and added by stating quite the observation: he like heaters because they're warm. I gave him a small glass of chocolate milk, but not without requesting those magic words that were most necessary to hear first. Mom and sister came by to collect him shortly after and he said his goodbye.

About five minutes later, he opened our door, came back inside, and rushed toward me with a napkin full of bits of what appear to be cookie crisp cereal. I thanked him and he turned around to rush back home.

Guys, take note. At age 5, this is adorable. At age 15, this is acceptable. At age 25, this is awkward. So if you want to send a special treat to a special lady, grab your little nephew, cousin, or that kid who lives across the street constantly asking to play baseball, and have him do the dirty work for you. On a side note: if you're hot enough, or if you know your lady well enough, but mostly if you're hot enough, you may do this yourself. Of course, it should be noted that no matter how hot you are, you may not be able to get away with turning her couch into a jungle gym, bringing your mom and sister to her house to pick you up, or barging into her bedroom without knocking first.

And now I'm going to enjoy my cookie crisp and a Christmas song:

There's Children Throwing Snowballs Instead of Throwing Heads

The lights are strung up. The tree is bought, assembled, and adorned. The hats, jackets, thick sweaters, and scarves have been pulled from the closet. The speakers are pulsating with the familiar sounds of holiday tunes in their classic and variation forms. The big red bows, shiny ribbons, and rolls of gift wrap have been purchased. The greeting cards are sifted through and handpicked to the choice selection in preparation for the inevitable and possibly humiliating holiday picture. The scent of gingerbread fills the air, not to mention the grande sized Starbucks coffee cup. The pumpkin pies are baking in the oven, and cooling down on the counter in hopes of scraping off those burnt crust bits before serving. The price tags have been slashed to considerable amounts in the hundreds, a bargain considering the original added to nearly a thousand. The high temperatures have dropped down to a finger numbing average of 65 degrees.

The holidays must be here. And I love it.

Buttons and Stitches

The first time I watched Coraline was on a Valentine's Day date last year, and it creeped me out more than I expected it to. The trailer made it appear as a dark animated picture with scares targetted to those who have yet to reach their preteen years (because "tween" is about one of the dumbest words ever invented). With it being on the list of potential movies to watch on Halloween, along with other family friendly classics such as It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown, Hocus Pocus, and anything from the mind of Tim Burton, I thought it maybe a dimly lit idea to watch this movie again and alleviate any unsettling jitters that arose after the first viewing. It's not as creepy as the first time, but there's still something very uncomfortable about watching it, and I think I know why. It's interesting.

Example #13 of what makes people silly: I wore my costume downtown after that party which was a great idea. Aside from the amusement that comes with some of the colorful people who have just indulged in a little too much happy juice, we found another amusement in the stares from said people who saw me (namely since I was the only one visibly in costume). Yes, people, I did see you staring at me from the corner of my eye, and yes, I know I have stitches on the sides of my mouth, and yes, I also know Halloween is coming up. That turned out to be much more entertaining than I thought it would, and it was mainly because of silly people. Next time, I'm staring back, with a scary face thrown in here and there for good measure. Wow, Halloween is fun.

I anticipate this will be a wonderful holiday season, just seeing how the days leading up to Halloween have already proved to be so. With the success that Thanksgiving turned out to be last year, I am looking forward to it again this year, because no matter how I feel, I will have my practically perfect default plan. And with the golden birthday coming up, perhaps a little bit more thought will be taken in actually celebrating with people, even if it does mean waiting for about a month again to do something. I'm also making other plans which are very exciting, fingers crossed, knock on wood, they will turn out the way they should (if not better, which I'm totally gunning for)!

We especially have to watch this movie on Halloween night because of my costume. I guess it doesn't hurt that it's a very fitting Halloween movie either:

Friends in Disney Places

Change is good, but sometimes it's strange. Little things make a world of difference, such as making and eating breakfast in the morning, or gaining an extra hour or two of sleep and then tidying up the bed, or primping up and then taking some windex to the mirrors. I haven't changed drastically (if at all) as far as my personality goes, but there is a definite shift, as briefly mentioned in my previous entry, of the homemaker in training tendencies that are more prevalent. I don't know why it's happening, but at least it looks clean and tastes yummy.

This life has hit a familiar point of the surreal, as if I am starring in my own personal episode of The Twilight Zone, where I wonder to myself, "Is this truly the life I am living?" I have those times where things come to mind that should be forgotten, but they just won't go away, about what I had that was taken away from me by the deception of certain people, moments that I look back on and think, "Did that really happen? Was I a part of this? Wasn't it meant to be more? Who were these people who lied when they said we would always be together, only to cut it short for one meaningless reason or another?" And there are similar yet contrasting times when I think about the next day and the day after, the next week, month or two, trying to snap into the reality that, yes, I do work at this amazing job, I do live in this wonderful place, I can attend these heavenly temples, I am surrounded by these beautiful people, I can go to this happy theme park whenever I need or want.

I went with another one of my friends for the first time, and as many of my Disneyland excursions go, we had a blast. What also made this time awesome was the initiative taken along the way. One of the things I have always wanted to do at Disneyland is meet someone new and spend some time with them at the park. A moment such as this almost came to pass at that moment also mentioned in another post of mine a few months ago with the fellow I met in the single rider line for Indiana Jones, but not so since I had already made plans that evening which had no relation to Disney whatsoever. It must have only been a matter of time before this should happen, because as my friend and I finished our ride on Space Mountain, we found the two gentlemen who had stood directly behind us in line with a super fast pass in tow, as the ride had broken down immediately after we departed. We asked to tag along, as the pass allowed up to six persons to board, and they were gracious enough to share with us. This one ride turned into several more and a good few hours together as a party of four (the magic Disneyland number) before we parted ways for dinner and the wonderful World of Color.

(On a side note: although I still don't understand the direction it's meant to take, I love World of Color, and could see it over and over again. We were teary eyed by the end of the show, but maybe that was just the mist from the fountains. We were standing in the "wet zone", after all.)

This serves to further my love of what is rightfully dubbed "The Happiest Place On Earth". A person would have to work very hard (or just not love Disney in the slightest) to even avoid cracking a smile for one moment while surrounded in the ambience of the Disneyland magic. And it does seem that people are much more friendly here than in most other places. Perhaps it is the kid in all of our hearts opening up their eyes to see the good in everyone around us. Or maybe we can just have more fun when in a place where fun prevails, and when fun people find more fun people, the level of fun rises well beyond the mark. (That was a lot of "fun"s in one sentence, and now the word "fun" is starting to look funny.)

It may be a bad habit to dive into the philosophy of "Work Hard, Play Hard", but it's been the best, and everything feels much more worthwhile. I'm having a great time, I'm learning a lot, I am making more than I imagined I would, and I'm keeping my mind from turning into jelly. My body might crash after doing this for an extended period of time, but let's just refer to it as building up my immunity and strength for now. Not to mention, my legs are going to be in great shape from all of the walking I am doing.

Considering I have been running around in this cold-recovering body, and spent much more time out of the house than in this past week (especially the weekend), I am reserving this holiday for relaxation. I have already slept in until 9:00 am, and I have a few errands to run, studying to do, and food to eat, followed by much needed exercise. Before I continue, though, I will watch a Donald Duck cartoon. Happy laboring!

A Taste of the Tropics

In the midst of my cravings, I found that summer is the season for pitaya, dragonfruit. Never before had I found dragonfruit available in the surplus of grocery stores surrounding me, but the hopes of discovering them locally rarely lingered. I don't believe the USofA claims this fruit as native to this land, but it's at least found in Central and South America, and several Asian countries near the equator. (I'm assuming dragonfruit loves living in the tropical weather?) Why the inquiry of such an obscure piece of produce? It may just be as such, its obscurity makes it intriguing, its appearance inside and out, and that of an all too familiar flavor found in vitamin water prompts the question of what the fruit itself must taste like. Plus, it's called "dragonfruit", how can any fruit with a name as such be passed over?

Thank goodness for Asian markets!!! And what a relief to arrive midday when less people are out shopping where I can find myself not in fear for my life driving through the parking lot. I also found several brands of coconut milk, which prompted the Asian in me to purchase the cheapest ones on the shelf (which also happened to be on sale). And how could I resist a case (or two) of mochi? As I made my way through the market, sure enough, on a tucked away corner of the produce shelves neatly arranged were dozens of dragonfruit, a moment where the heavens seemed to open and shine their light upon them and sing in angelic chords. I only bought one, but if so pleased, I will definitely have to buy more.

On the note of coconut milk, another dive into a new cooking experience. There is something to be said about the homemaker-in-training tendencies I have displayed as of recent these last few months, namely learning to make new meals and snack foods, and especially the desserts which I have shared with those I reside with. Whether or not I become a homemaker is not of the subject, but there's something to be said about knowing to make a variety of dishes, especially for someone as myself whose tastes vary based on mood or the time of day or the newest craving of interest. I recall a dessert from when I was younger, one of the only foods I truly enjoyed eating that was made in my household, which sadly was soon eliminated once the totalitarian health craze moved in. I look back and I think about now and what will be different, that with my family of the future (however many it may consist of) there will be something to be said of making meals that have the right balance of taste and nutrition, and that every now and then it doesn't hurt to include something sweet. One of these new sweet treats I have learned to make, courtesy of a fellow blogger and friend, is haupia, a Hawaiian recipe basically summed up as coconut pudding. Coconut milk tastes quite bland to me in general, but as a key ingredient in haupia, I am surprised at how great the mixture tastes. And as the night approaches, I may indulge in a small portion with perhaps a few bits of dragonfruit on the side.

The next step is to figure out what to do with the coconut milk I have left over. It'll require a bit of exploration, but if nothing else, this could add to one heck of a tropical smoothie.

Perfect Situation

Yesterday, I had a mindset (and a post in the making) all ready and rearing to blog which temporarily allowed itself to be distracted, and perhaps for good reason. In darker times, I tend to think too much. Recently, I have been thinking a lot, but not because these are darker times. If anything, I can argue I am living in the complete antithesis of such, for I am rather fortunate for the goings on of these last good number of days, and I have a few wonderful people, places, and things to thank for this.

In a summer such as this, how can one not formulate a smile on their face just by taking a glance outside and seeing the beauty that is found in the sand and surf and fresh air? How can this atmosphere not be taken advantage of? And the relief that comes with rain or a misty day. How much more fortunate is it to live less than ten minutes away from a temple and be endowed to perform the ordinances therein? I have a growing love for the temple, and I only imagine this love will continue to grow.

This is a beautiful place, and as I expand my horizons I realize how much more beautiful it is here (this is in no way intended to be an homage to American Beauty either). It's been limited with the lack of time I had, and now that time is occupied in other forms, it opens the way for more opportunities allowing open and quality time.

I had a conversation with a friend of mine visiting from out of state. It made me realize the different ways people think, and how unfortunate it is to know that some people can be destroyed by the stigmas imposed by a certain culture. It also brings to mind decisions people have made to hurt me intentionally, and why these people were brought into my life if only to bring me pain. And then it becomes clearer that I cannot blame myself, for people have their agency, and if they use it improperly, that is in no way my fault, no matter how awful or responsible I may feel or how many times I had the finger pointed at me.

One starry night, and a busy mind full of thoughts with music pumping throughout the evening. What prompted this gentleman to take initiative into approaching me? He gave so much more care and time that I have only seen a handful of people willing to give after an initial meet and greet with someone who has been put through the ringer of poor decision making brought by others. What would happen if more people could show that kind of care? It takes a special person to touch someone's life for the better. A date earlier this week also made a surprising world of difference, and if more FHEs could fall through as such, I may get used to this. I should really keep in mind with my special fellow that dates do not have to end with the DTR.

Case in point in a matter of touching lives for the better: The Changing of the Guard. I can't think of a moment I haven't felt that tender spot swell inside me as I have every time I watch this episode.



This made more sense in my mind, but I appreciate these moments I can relax and take in more of these ponderings as I spew them out in a somewhat disheveled form based on my energy level. And I will conclude there as I leave singing oooooooh oh, ooohhhhh oh, oh ooohhh oohh.

These Are My Confessions, And It's Now Or Never

There are a lot of occurances in this past week that have sparked thoughts and curiosities of my persona and my observations of others. One is my first visit to the El Capitan theater, taking me into a trip through time and sparking imagery of old Hollywood and what fame and stardom must have been worth in the past compared to now. Connected with this cinematic visit is my viewing of Prince of Persia in this very theater, given the theme of the film, with the subtitle "The Sands of Time", is of time travel, and whether or not I could (or would) change the past if I knew what is to become of the future. Then there's the time I began chatting it up with a friendly fellow while we were both in line for the Indiana Jones ride, who I would have spent more time acquainting myself with had I not already planned on leaving for dinner soon after, adding to the ways I have seen Disneyland bring people together, be they family, friends, significant others, acquaintances, and in this case, merely strangers. There is also the most recent news that I have been chosen to portray the role of new employee in a job at a location I felt could be nothing short of perfect for me, selected for this one open position out of hundreds of applicants, giving my best in the group interview, and the likeness of the excitement felt when I received the phone call telling me I got the part compared to that of finding I have received one of my dream roles. Maybe these are all worth writing about in the very near future, or maybe they will just disappear after more blogging takes place, clearing away this entry and others from the front page, only to be found after a click or two back in time into previous entries.

It would not be so out of character, however, for me to quickly mention my thoughts on this series. Many of my friends have strongly recommended I watch Glee. For someone who has been performing in choirs since I was eight, school and community shows since I was twelve, and a deep love of performing that was not utilized as well as it could have been given the unfortunate circumstances that made up my childhood and teenage years, it has thrown some people for a loop that an entire first season has gone by and I had not watched a single episode of this show. I hesitated at first, but a friend of mine who happens to own every episode of Glee suggested we make this happen, and with a few days to spend with her in this nothing-to-do town I currently call home (though I love it here nonetheless!), I caved. We made a marathon out of it and watched the entire first season in the course of a few days. And simply put, it was good.

I wish I could think more of it, and in a way, I'm disappointed I do not, but I am not so won over to call myself a gleek (yet?). Admittedly, I have searched and viewed some of the clips on Youtube, and I do have a few covers in my MP3 player, but the parts of the show I dislike weigh it down, namely the storyline, the inconsistencies, and the extreme amount of unnecessary songs added into the second half of the season. It's funny to think, but now I kind of understand why people who are not a fan of musicals, because of the random moments where people break out into song, are annoyed. And this is coming from someone like me, a lover of good musicals and the spontaneity they have of breaking into song and dance at moments that may or may not be fitting. Also, there are times when the covers just didn't work for me. Some artists shouldn't be transposed, and others just aren't worth covering in attempts to make sound better (i.e. Lady Gaga). I suppose most of my problems with the show came from the second half of the season. Actually, I'm sure that's where it comes from, because although the first half was faulty, it surely felt more entertaining than the second, with a better balance of story and song and smoother transitions in plot and character development.

Of course, I'm glad I watched it. And although problematic, it isn't a bad show. It idealizes what I wish I could have experienced in high school and is reminiscent of a few memories that I have of those years (given we didn't have glee club, but having done choir and musicals, there are the similarities). I may even recommend it to people, or at least those lovers of musicals. It's enough to make me want to watch more in hopes that perhaps the show will vastly improve in the second season. Or at the least, I can hopefully look forward to a few more better covers sung by the members of Glee, and mash-ups. I will say, the mash-ups are great. So, only time will tell, and that's okay, for I am in no hurry for September to roll around.

And to end on the note of Glee, this mash-up has been in my head for a while, which I also added to my music:

Free Dinners: Gifts to a Starving Artist

I wish I could feed the missionaries. Once I am able to feed myself, I intend on helping to feed them too.

Last night, my friend took me to The Cheesecake Factory. After I obtained the high score in our Toy Story Midway Mania vehicles, only further digging me into the pit of Disney game-themed ride geekiness, our time was of the essence to make room for a comfortable dinner and a few more hours at the happiest place on earth. 90 minutes of comfort food, endless conversation, an adorably colorful waiter, and perfect weather for outdoor seating helped to make the evening as enjoyable as it was. The cherry on top could have very well been the fireworks that started as we were ready to make our cheesecake selection, if only they proved to be visually present as well as audible. It was not so much the fact that my friend was willing to dish out earned money to cover our meals and service at a somewhat pricey restaurant (could I have very well settled with the likes of a Del Taco? Absolutely!), but more of the fact that he wanted to make sure I was well fed and could enjoy dinner with him. Does it make me feel like a mooch? Guilty? Ashamed? Yes, and I had to convince myself not to feel these thoughts when he brought this offer to the table. Truly, as a starving artist, it is one of the greater gifts I could receive at this moment, and to be even more privileged to have friends like him, who are so considerate and thoughtful. And to add to those adjectives "fun to be around", because after finishing our meal, we were back at the park making the most of a few hours before closing, and in many ways, there is nothing more exhilarating than several screams and lots of water and a sharp drop into a briar patch at 11:30 at night.

I do not say this as a form of pity given my current state of being. If nothing else, this is a bigger lesson I am experiencing in this game of life, one that I will grow from and take to be more self sufficient, that I can take care of myself. And in learning to do so, to take this perspective into the near future, I will be able to help support my husband in our new life together, as well as any children that may be brought into our lives. Meanwhile, I am also continuously growing in gratitude for the people around me and all else that I do have, because as low as my life has felt at times, I have a lot to be thankful for, and so much more that will be brought my way in these years to come.

This prompts me to an additional gift in the form of a graduation dinner where I will play the date of an unlikely fellow this Friday night which, strangely, I am looking forward to.

Another Blanche DuBois

Last week, my tire went flat. Fortunately, I had a spare attached to my car, a roommate with AAA, and no place of utmost priority to attend that night. Fast forward to this afternoon. Big O Tires is patching up my injured tire. I'm waiting for about an hour with a Dr Pepper in one hand, my cell phone exchanging texts in the other, and Fox News spewing Obama critiques and suspicions of Pakistani bombers on the television overhead. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my spare tire patched and wheeled over to where my original spare had filled the spot of my front that unfortunately drove over a sharp point rendering it flat. In no time, my tires are back in business and my car is aching to hit the not-so-open road. I go up to the register to pay my dues once the worker calls out to me that my car is ready. A few quick jokes on his part mention my having to pay a million dollars which will not be accepted in the form of bounced checks or credit cards are, by my part, obviously dismissed with my sarcastic wit. He concludes this payment with this declaration: don't worry about it, it's on me. Initially, I question this act of kindness of his part. Thoughts of three more flattened tires or half of my possessions currently living in my car gone missing immediately pop into my head. I have to ask again for the sake of my hearing, which after close proximity to high volume amps, is still quite sharp. He assures me that I don't have to pay a cent and sends me on my way. I leave with five working tires, all of my possessions still nestled comfortably in my car, and a curiosity of what prompted such an act of kindness from this gentleman coupled with an overwhelming wave of gratitude warming my heart.

In an episode of The Twilight Zone, the main character narrates that, "As a race, we're unaccustomed to charity; brutality is a far more universal language to us than an expression of friendship..." Rod Serling's logic far ahead of its time seems quite realistic in regards to this. And then there's the fictitious Blanche DuBois who said, "I've always depended on the kindness of strangers." Is she a victim of wishful thinking or merely blinded by idealism? Who is more realistic, the one who expects kindness to be brought their way at every waking moment or the one who cynically questions any unselfish act when presented to them? Is it possible to live in a society where everyone can be nice to each other, or do we need to be surrounded by selfishness to further appreciate when charity shines its light on us?

If there was another person in or out of the room who had witnessed this scene between this good Samaritan in the Big O Tires company shirt and myself, I imagine they could have gone and turned such a moment into a live Liberty Mutual commercial.

Money or Honey?

This week's most recent amazing blast from the past: Spy Game, not the movie, but an ABC show that tickled my fancy with its humor and theme. The incident that striked this glimpse into my long term memory? My roommate simply stating that, whilst watching Alias and after viewing countless episodes of Chuck, she loves spy shows. It's amazing what thirteen years of absence can do to one's memories, not to mention the change of perspective on viewing this short-lived program, though I have barely finished one episode, and only two to my knowledge are posted online. Not to mention, my 11-year old self, as boy crazy as it was, could not appreciate the wit and physical attraction of Linden Ashby that my 24-year old self is immediately smitten by at first (or second?) glance.



My roommate asked me for money. She was actually asking me for honey. I don't think I hear well when I'm feeling this way.

And the train of thought that occurs when wanting to record Goodfellas after watching the most recent episode of Community based heavily on this movie? Yes, I did. This is the same train of thought that got me to watch Life As A House again after viewing trailers for A Nightmare On Elm Street, and American Beauty after watching Family Guy's parody of the plastic bag blowing in the wind caught on film. Could I be going crazy? That's a potential blog post for another day.

All I Do Is Dream

The Everly Brothers have been on repeat in my mind, and on my laptop, for the last several minutes. I keep having certain dreams that make wonder whether they are merely screams from my subconscious, desires I dare not echo in public, or occurances waiting to happen. I might just have a wild imagination, with a strong emphasis on the "wild", but what is it about dreams? Why do some dreams just stick to one's thoughts while others are forgotten soon after waking up? Why are some dreams only dreamt once, some twice, some on continual repeat, some on shuffle mode? Why are some in color or black and white? What about point of view, seeing through the eyes of oneself or as someone else or another party in no way involved with the current events? How can some dreams appear so transparent and untouchable as if it were only a movie, and other dreams so vivid and realistic from the smell of the atmosphere to the density of the surrounding matter to the texture of a person's skin?

I have come to the conclusion that not only should I start deciphering these bizarre recurring images that visually stimulate my dreams, I should also write what I dream about as soon as I wake up.

What also amuses me relating to this is that the remake of A Nightmare On Elm Street is opening next week. I, for one, will not be watching, but the trailer for the original film looks a lot scarier than the plethura of trailers swamping television commercials and Youtube for this somewhat anticipated and heavily fan debated remake. Perhaps it's partially due to the empathy that the viewer may have on Freddy Kreuger after watching the first 45 seconds of the trailer? Oh well, that's Hollywood.

Marching Along

So that's why it's called March madness: because in a matter of seconds, March is already over. A new month of shows and excitement is going to begin in ten minutes (and about 20 hours). Seriously, March went by very quickly.

I present proof, we made a new video, and although it was finished about a month ago, it doesn't feel like it:



And on a bite related note, a small SPOILER:

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We have a new EP!

You Marry Me, You Marry My Family

I have never seen My Big Fat Greek Wedding, but was encouraged to, not only because of the positive reviews brought about by its comedic portrayal of family values present in the average Greek nucleus, but also because of its amusing yet vast similiarities to the way many Italians tend to act and react in situations of marriage within their own nuclei. My lack of expandable knowledge of films brings me to believe that maybe somewhere in this world, a team of witty filmmakers must have created a similitude of this film, but substituted the Greek with the Roman. Either way, I have yet to find such a likeliness, nor have I yet to raid the nearest Blockbuster and pilfer a copy of this Grecian comedy for my personal viewing.

This movie, and the topic of marriage in general, comes to mind for several reasons as of late. The surplus of lovesick hopefuls giving up their tedious lives in hopes of starting a new one with another that they may or may not last more than a year with before realizing that they are not truly happy after joining in holy matrimony, is only a small fraction of reason behind this. I still strongly hypothesize that the economy is a giant factor in this sudden increase of knots tied, and with that it brings about the curiosity of what the divorce rates may be between now and the year 2020.

Don't get me wrong, I am a hopeful romantic, and perhaps it's not in my place to make such cynical statements about marriage when I know so many who are currently in such happy unions that I would never imagine or wish for their relationships to snap like twigs when they are still in the beginning stages of growing and branching out into solid, mighty oak trees. I only criticize those who are not fully aware of the decision they make and wind up miserable because they were not fully prepared for the travesty ahead, and look for escape rather than working through the problems. This also brings to mind those on the opposite side of the spectrum, those who choose not to embark on such a journey out of fear, or even bad judgment, or poor advice, or extreme concern that someone better is out there for them and therefore committing to someone else who would otherwise be a perfect match for them may still not be worth giving everything for.

In the past week or so, I have spent time with many wonderful people close to me, and had quite a few interesting discussions, revealing insight to my life and maybe the lives of others. One of the insights to come about deals with the mindset apparently found amongst many within my religion. There are many in our church who long to have a marriage exactly like that of their parents. A good friend of mine, and fellow church member, put it quite bluntly when he responded, "That's stupid." Among the things he said, we know that it's not a bad thing to want something good that others have, and by all means, if one's parents have a wonderful marriage, why would one not want the same for oneself? And yet, this is blind thinking. It's not wrong to use a wonderful marriage as a role model, but no one person is exactly like their parents, and what works for their parents is not necessarily going to work for that person and their companion. And as another friend pointed out, with such a situation, the results are as such: 1. the person will never find someone because they will be constantly hopping from relationship to relationship waiting to find the one that works exactly like that of their parents, or 2. the person, who manages to make a monogamous marriage a reality, will never be happy because aspects of their marriage will not be found in their parents' relationship and therefore are problematic for the rest of their lives.

This draws the conclusion among my two accomplices and I, that we will one day have the best, happiest, and most satisfying marriages when compared to those of our religious peers. The three of us have grown up in households that, with all the love and respect we have for our families, are not what we want for our future families. And because we will not strive for our marriages to be exactly like what our parents had (or didn't have), we have a clean slate, we can formulate on our own exactly what will make our relationships work and what our relationships will need work on, without our parentals telling us we are wrong when we are actually right. This also goes to note that our parents will not be the ones to determine who we choose to spend the rest of eternity with. As one of my previously mentioned accomplices put it, a very appropriate "Shut Up" would be executed if his mother does not approve of the woman he loves and marries. We are not so narrow minded to say that our families are not important to us, but to let our families be the determining factor as to whether we should commit to someone or not is a decision that could possibly lead us away from a person we could have otherwise spent an eternity of happiness with.

Going back to My Big Fat Greek Wedding, although I have not seen this movie, I am fully aware of the importance of family portrayed here, and also the role family plays in the Greek and Italian cultures. It may be assumed, because of this, that my Big Fat Italian Family (which is more accurately referred to as my Average-Numbered Skinny Italian Family) would stand by the philosophy of "marrying into the family" and that any potential husband of mine would be expected to cram for months in order to pass the deadly exam with flying colors brought about by the strictest instructors who happen to fall in my bloodline, before being awarded an honorable place in my household. Fortunately for me, and for my future surname holder, my family takes a different philosophy. It would mean so much to me than the man I marry would love my family. I would also want, more than anything, for my family to love and approve of the man I marry, but if they didn't, I would not be so easily swayed. And from what I have been taught, they do not want to sway me so easily either. They like to say it wouldn't matter to them who I marry, so long as he is Italian, Catholic, and Republican. In all seriousness though, he could be a Brazilian Hindu Democrat, or a Vietnamese Jewish Independent, or a Nigerian Quaker Green Party affiliate, and my family would not care one bit, so long as he posesses the following: he makes me happy, he treats me well, and he will take good care of me and our future family we potentially create. If he can do all of those things, it will not make a world of difference how much they dislike or disapprove of him, because they are not marrying him, I am.

I shall conclude with a quick story. Once upon a time, two college co-eds fell in love, and they were very happy with their relationship. Unfortunately, both sets of parents disapproved for the same reasons: they strongly believed that a marriage between their children would never work out because the other child had qualities that did not fit with what was expected in the ideal spouse of their child. The voices of reason made sense, and the co-eds ended their relationship. He was heartbroken and immediately married the next woman who came into his life and had children and lived a good life as was anticipated by his family. She married later and had children and lived a good life as well. As several more years passed, they reconnected, the twinges of awkward moments practically nonexistant after the love they shared years ago transformed into a pleasant moment of reacquaintence. Time continued to pass, and sad as it was, the two marriages could not last as far as they had hoped for when first reciting the vows. To cope, the man and woman went about their lives to successfully overcome the pain caused by their separations on their own as best they could, while still managing to be wonderful parents to their own children. It was a matter of even more years, happiness, and trials before the two were acquainted once again, and as they went on getting to know each other in a strangely new yet familiar way, they fell in love. Soon after, they married, and now they are raising their family together, and both sets of parents couldn't be happier for them.

I know that not everyone will share such a fate as that of my relatives, and I don't believe I am an exception, but this story, among the discussions I've had with good friends, has made me realize a lot about my views on love and marriage and what matters most regarding both. While most Greeks, Italians, and maybe even Mormons might say "You Marry Me, You Marry My Family", I will continue to stand by what I believe: You're not marrying my family, you're marrying me.

'Twas Better All Around

"See, you are what you are in this world, that's either one of two things: either you're somebody, or you're nobody."

American Gangster is one of those films that peaked my interest on such a high level upon viewing the trailer that the instinct to rush to the theater upon opening would build inside me, but as time went by and other obligations arose, the need to see such a film was pushed for the next week, and then the next, until finally the interest disappeared for a temporary moment. Well, three years and one trip to the library later, we pulled it from the DVD shelf, and the high level of interest that once plagued me throughout my junior year of college grew back in small increments in those minutes between the departure from the book brothel and the arrival at the chapel.

For a brief yet knowledgable glimpse, it is a given that I would be interested in such gangster flicks, for I have thoroughly enjoyed the cinematography of Goodfellas and the first two Godfather films. There is also another seed of budding obsession that began to poke its head out of the ground after watching the controversial ending of the now halted series of The Sopranos which serves as a side note to start watching the show in order to make sense of what these past six years have meant to build up to such a finale. Is this an inherent liking expected from the Italian in me? Maybe, but there was something very intriguing in this movie trailer about a man who could build up such a name for himself without the white man bringing him down, not to mention Jay-Z's "Heart of the City" sounds kind of amazing.



One of the most amazing things about this movie is the fine line between good and evil. It is not a black and white film (pardon the metaphor), for there are so many gray areas in these characters lives that although the viewer knows what is good and what is bad, there is no clarity as to who the hero of the movie is, who the viewer should be rooting for. One of the taglines is "There are two sides to the American dream" and it couldn't be portrayed more truly. Yes, I checked this movie out for free, save the gas money to drive, but I would have gladly paid to go to the theater or rent it from the nearest Blockbuster. Do I regret not watching this movie upon it's theatrical release? I would only have regrets if I had allowed a few more years to pass before seeing it.

And then there was Song of the South. Only a few hours after my eyes had seen the glory of American Gangster, and a few more miles of driving, we beheld the wonder of this delightful Disney gem. The only disappointment about this movie is the unfortunate direction it has taken by diving into oblivion after the criticisms of civil rights groups. I can see why it is accused of being racist, yet it is a movie that clearly takes place in a time and location that somewhat accurately depicts the way of life as it was, whether or not it is politically incorrect (which it is obviously not).

The earliest depictions I had of this movie came from the sing-along videos of my early childhood that kept me entertained on many lonely evenings, where I would sing and ponder the source of these tunes, for I was educated on every Disney film that encompassed every other song in these videos that I should have known better to have seen this movie as well. Sure enough, the times were against me, because as of a recent discovery, this movie has been banned for the last fifteen years or so. It is unfortunate, because Disney has tried to avoid trouble by locking this beauty in the vaults for all too long, but as Uncle Remus said, "You can't run away from trouble. There ain't no place that far."



And one of the best parts about finally seeing Song of the South is that now whenever I go to Critter Country at Disneyland, especially if I can build up the gumption to ride on Splash Mountain in the cold and rainy weather, every movie reference will make complete sense to me. And Br'er Bear will continue to make me laugh every time I see him hobble through the park followed by a mob of oblivious children who may never be granted the opportunity to see him in his cartoon form. It is a shame, but I am fortunate to no longer wallow in such a shameful state myself. And thanks to Youtube, I can relive the memory of this diamond in the rough.

If I look really hard, I might just find my laughing place.

I'm a Character

I believe everything happens for a reason. It's funny to see how life experiences can make or break a person, and how some people are destroyed by certain experiences that others are unaffected by. As time continues to pass in its transcendental form, the thoughts and feelings I have been meaning to release in one way or another continue to accumulate. It's almost becoming too much to handle, but when the sources that one needs to rely on to release these thoughts and feelings are unavailable or unwilling to be of assistance, there is not much left for one to do but internalize these thoughts. I plan on releasing some, if not all, of these thoughts and feelings one day. Today is not that day.

I am an empathetic. Or am I just pathetic? I realized last night that I don't like the term "hopeless romantic". It gives off a negative vibe, as if to say someone is "romantic, but hopeless". Who would want to be labeled as such? I suppose such a label has unintentionally applied to me for most if not all of my entire life, and maybe it's true. However, there should be something to be said about a person who tries to persevere regardless of their hopeless state. From now on, I would rather be labeled a "hopeful romantic", because one day, someone will come along, and I won't be afraid to give everything for him, and he won't hurt me because once he's gained my trust he'll see I have so much to offer him that isn't worth giving up on because of a few mistakes, and I will no longer be trapped in the cycle of hopelessness. And I would only hope that because I have been capable of such love before, that I will not be too scared to fall into such a trap again lest I be hurt as badly as I have by a number of fellows in the past. I truly want to believe that love offers second chances, and maybe it'll be worth it the next time around. And those are probably the most pathetic statements drenched in sappiness that I have ever written in the history of this blog's existance. I think I just made myself nauseous.



I am sincere with a strong twist of sarcasm. Before I fell asleep this morning, I had another revelation that smacked me in the face amidst the potpourri of disturbing thoughts that continues to plague my mind as it has since I arrived in southern California (must be something in the air or something). I know why so many people are getting married lately: because our economy is a mess! At a time like this, who will deny the tax benefits and the financial support of another? And yes, one can argue that weddings are expensive, but at a time like this, who is really investing in a ginormous, over-the-top wedding (I'm still seriously considering Vegas) with a dangerously priced honeymoon? And if so, who's to say they intend on living in a five bedroom mansion immediately after the festivities are over? Food for thought.

I am excited for the future. When life brings me down (and life has definitely been beating the daylights out of me recently), it's nice to remember that right now I have rock and roll on my side. And it's also nice to watch Neal Caffrey cock a gun.