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.