P.S. I Love You

Dre gave me this book last Christmas, Other People's Love Letters, which I believe she found in some artsy shop in San Francisco. The last book she gave me was Jenna Jameson's autobiography, so let's just say she knows how to pick 'em. When I finally opened it up, I happened to be PMSing. Bad move. I ended up bawling throughout most of it, and being in a pretty dark mood afterwards. For one thing, a good number of the "love" letters were actually breakup notes! "I dreamt about passing over this bridge so many times. I want you back so bad. Part of me is fighting for that. The other part is struggling to forget but wanting to remember the first time. In Detroit. I touched your face." Ok, so it isn't bloody Shakespeare, but it's enough to get a hormonal bitch going, ok?

The book covers a pretty wide and varied selection, ranging from horny little Post-It notes, to a handwritten letter from 1911, to harsh and wordy emails. But still, I closed it with the lingering feeling of dissatisfaction. It just wasn't nearly enough to cover the scope of something as grand as love, and I know I'm being unfair with such high expectations. But there is one thing pretty cool about my particular copy, though. You know how with the PostSecret books, there's a trend of people slipping in their own secrets on postcards in book stores? Somebody put a little note in this book! Unfortunately, they didn't complete it. So here's all I have, and I'll leave it open to interpretation:

Walk It Out

Last last weekend, I turned twenty five. I celebrated by being athletic. Athleticism is something that's as elusive to me as underwear is to Britney Spears, as evidenced by my lack of breath and leg cramps each time I stomp up the two floors to my apartment. But, I wanted to do something different, and it turned out to be really fun!

On Saturday, we went hiking in Malibu, to see one of the hidden waterfalls within in the city. I actually woke up at 9:30am and dragged my groggy ass over to Isaac's. The meeting time was 11am, and although I am notorious for running late, it was nothing compared to Dre, Tim, and Jason, who arrived there at around 12:30pm. But Dre brought yummy sandwiches, and I wasn't expecting Jason since he'd been MIA for the past week, so I forgave him for being the one who pushed everything off schedule. I just felt bad for the others, since they had actually arrived promptly and were left defenseless against an old Jewish man who told them his entire life story.

The weather was perfect for a sweaty hike (cloudy and chilly), and the trail wasn't too arduous or lengthy. We started off walking by some jaw-droppingly opulent homes, and saw a hawk swoop down and catch prey. Then we ventured into nature, nimbly maneuvering over several streams. During the hike, Isaac managed to find a several edible mushrooms, tree mold, a little froggy, and a dead mole. We kept running into the cutest dogs, and it made me so bummed out that I didn't bring Pumpkin along (I thought she wouldn't be able to handle it, but I was wrong.) Considering it had rained the week prior, the waterfall was pretty loud and lush. However, it seriously smelled like shit around the base. What was up with that?!

We sat around and ate, despite the stench, and then posed for pictures. When Dre whipped out her digital SLR, everyone stepped back in awe. The quality of the pics from that thing are amazing, especially when you compare it side by side with the pics from Trang and Sekina's point-and-shoot cameras. But then again, Dre has this crazy talent for photography, so that helps. Just a bit. Then we headed back, and I'm pretty sure we were all feeling flushed and accomplished.

Oh yeah, and the old Jewish man who stopped to talk to us while we waited for everyone to show up? His stories were pretty fascinating. He was held in the concentration camps in Indonesia for several years. He claimed to have worked for the CIA. After he found out Isaac was Jewish too, he gave me a few pointers. "Just learn a few Hebrew phrases, and read a little bit of the Bible, and they'll accept you." And if that doesn't work? "Slip a rabbi $500, and he'll dip you right away in water and make you a Jew!" Good to know there's a shortcut to Gan Eden!

Anyway, this particular hike wasn't all that strenuous, but that was just part one of my birthday weekend. I'll discuss Sunday's activities in another post. I just wanted to say that a birthday without alcohol and forced singing is pretty damn awesome. And now Dre and I (and even Trang!) are all motivated to go on more hikes, especially since we discovered so many others as we were researching for this one. I hope really do try a few more, because this was a really enjoyable excursion. I'm serious, Dre! Let's DO this!

The Climb

Being fit and getting fondled!

So our rock climbing venture occurred early last month, but I didn't get the pictures from Kristin until recently, so here's a post about a rather belated event. I'll make it quick. I'm just stoked because I look super skinny in the above shot. Yes, I realize that I have bony arms and legs, but if you know me that well, you also know about my big blubber belly. Mmm. It's like all my fat designated my tummy as the new South Beach and decided to flock there in droves. And in that pic, you can't even tell! I look like I have washboard abs! Suh-weet.

Double knotting like a pro,
but rappelling like a novice.

What makes this a monumental activity is because, well, I don't do activities. Frankly, I don't really like to move. I'm most content, as Dre puts it, eating chips in my bed and reading. (Only she got it slightly wrong; I prefer sunflower seeds. Sunflower seeds.) But Isaac suggested it, and it sounded pretty fun because my last sort of active endeavor was over a year ago at Yosemite, and while that was more rock scrambling than climbing, I was pretty good at it and I had fun. Plus, when I told others about it, their enthusiasm had me going, and we ended up booking the last six spots of the instructional group.

L to R: Tim, Dre, me, Jason, Kristin & Isaac

I was a little stressed, because everyone was running late, and I called Rockreation to let them know, and was informed that anyone tardy over 15 minutes would forfeit their spot, and lose out on the $40 (per person) fee. Kristin and I were the only ones who arrived on time; thank goodness Kristin was there because it was love at first sight for the instructor. He proceeded to hover around her the rest of the day, and gave the approval to hook up the four others in our group who came 16 or 17 minutes late.

An Instructor and the Latebirds

Climbing up the wall was pretty easy. It's the "let go at 40 feet up and lean back into empty space" that's the terrifying part. But then you get used to it, and you feel all great, and you deal with the sweaty pits, and the fear of your partner not belaying you correctly, while checking out the tan and muscular bodies, burning calories, and goofing around with your friends. And then the next few days, your arms are burning, your fingers ache, and you're walking as if two men banged you like a Salvation Army drum (my favorite line from Bedazzled).

Ready...set...rock climb!

Just Like the Movies

I'm the kind of person who can get thoroughly pulled into a film. I rarely cast a cynical eye on incongruities, or snarkily question the unreality of movie moments. Some critic was recently fired for constantly praising worthless movies for kickbacks from the studios. He peppered his reviews with such banalities as "this is a must-see film" and "you don't want to miss this!" Well, I'm like his enthusiastic equivalent, only without the shady bribing, and with a better vocabulary and bigger boobs (here's hoping). Usually, all I require is a happy ending. That's why I'm still shell-shocked from The Departed. And All Dogs Go to Heaven. (What?! Yeah, he got into heaven, but the goodbye scene traumatized my little eight-year-old heart. I sobbed incoherently for ten minutes straight.)

"Why even bother saving NYC?
Coverfield's attacking next month."

I Am Legend
1-10-08 I watched an advanced screening copy of the film, aka a great quality bootleg, over at Tomo's house. (Yes, I felt bad about it, but clearly not enough to just say no.) I found the movie quite entertaining, despite the disappointing ending. Then again, I didn't shell out $10 to watch it, so that contributes to my assessment. The scene in the warehouse was extremely suspenseful and thrilling, and the images of a desolate NYC were spectacular. Will Smith's ripped body was delicious, and the dog was an absolute darling. Will's desperate pleas in the video store made my heart heavy. I wouldn't recommend this to those who like rational explanations for every turn of events. Or biologists/virologists, who are probably shaking in ludicrous laughter at the situation that has wiped out humanity. ***SPOILER ALERT*** Chanel made a reassuring remark about how the dog was going to live and have cute babies before the movie began. So gullible me, I was still sitting there all calm when the dog was attacked, since hey, she was going to be fine! She was going to have babies! NO. She didn't have babies. She was strangled to death as she was transforming into a monster by an agonized Will Smith. That sucked ass. And I couldn't even yell at Chanel because she had fallen asleep on the floor by that point. Also, why did Willy have to die!? The title is horribly misleading; it's I Am Legend, not I Was Legend, thereby providing the moviegoer with a false sense of security that Will Smith will save humankind and live to tell the tale.

"No! You're not going into the kitchen
until you promise to stop cutting yourself!"

Cloverfield
1-18-08 In spite of all the buzz generated from the cunningly covert trailer and the vast viral campaign, I truly could've waited to watch this film. Instead, I trudged out to a midnight premiere to watch it with Isaac, who, only two days earlier, had vowed not to succumb to the sneaky marketing tactics of the film. Then he heard a radio program gushing about the big mystery, and decided we had to immediately watch it. Man, I'm so glad he was such a sucker. What an exhilarating, exuberant, engrossing, and enthralling movie! Especially that night footage scene in the tunnels! Seriously! Now, I have pretty bad motion sickness, so you'd think that 90 minutes of hand-held camera footage with plenty of shaky running would make me nauseous. Instead, I was so absorbed in the film that I barely noticed it. I'm a suspense fan, and this movie knocked it up and threw it down, ultimate fighter style. I wouldn't recommend this to those who like neat and complete resolutions and answers. Or those who couldn't sit through The Blair Witch Project. ***SPOILER ALERT*** Ok, even the grumblings of Isaac over the ridiculousness of certain aspects didn't bring me down. The movie never explains anything about the monster. Where does it come from? What is its purpose for destroying NYC? What the hell are those crazy killer spiders dropping from it? Babies? Parasites? What really happened behind the screen to Janice from Mean Girls? How can the monster resist all those bombs? What, is its skin made of Kevlar? And why the hell was the helicopter flying low enough to get sideswiped by the monster? Yeah, I didn't care about any of that. You know what did bother me, though? No, not the ending, even though you pretty much assume everyone gets killed. It's the fact that Jason's girlfriend didn't even cry when he died. Homegirl was just dry eyed with a crumpled face. No, bitch. I expected tears. Lots of them. You call that love? You disgust me.

"I feel fat. Am I fat in this dress?"
"Nope. Does this suit make me blurry?"

Atonement
1-25-08 I really liked this movie, which is surprising because it is an awfully sad story. It had beautiful visuals, particularly that breathtaking, panoramic shot of Normandy, and Keira Knightly in the green dress that mesmerized Dre. I normally never find Keira all that attractive, but dear God, that sex scene in the library has plagued my fantasies for the past ten days. She looks ravishing. And James McAvoy! Oomf! Instant infatuation. The most crushing part in the movie is when he strolls up proudly with the twins, and that look of bewilderment slowly shadows his face as everyone stands before him. And then the look on his face as he is placed in the car--it kills me. As for Briony, the central character in the movie, I held a grudge the entire time, thus making me almost disgusted with the final moments of the movie. I'm fairly sure that's not what the film intends for the audience; the movie is called 'atonement,' after all. It's just that I felt so deeply for the two lovers that I couldn't wholly forgive Briony for her actions. It's a languid, lush tale that didn't make me pine for my $12 back. I wouldn't recommend it for action-only fans or people who've done something that completely fucked up someone else's life (might hit a little too close to home). ***SPOILER ALERT*** I knew he was going to die. They were totally foreshadowing it, so I wasn't too devastated. Plus, writers tend to make the story all super tragic in order to give it more depth. I hate when that happens! And I feel SO gypped that that confrontation with the three of them in Keira's room was just make-believe. It's just not fair!

"I know! QWERTY is played out.
Mad props for scrambling it up!"

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
1-31-08 B and I were supposed to watch this since before Christmas, but we finally made it happen last Thursday. In case you didn't know, this is the critically acclaimed movie about a man who has locked-in syndrome, and can only move and communicate with his right left eye (thanks for catching that, B, you loser). Jean-Do feels completely trapped and isolated (hence the diving bell metaphor), but his imagination sets him free (hence the butterfly metaphor). Yes, it's just as heartrending and beautiful as the trailer indicates, although not quite as uplifting. What makes it so much more haunting is that it's a true story. B says he came out with the message of "live life to the fullest." I got more of a "be good to the people you love or you might end up fully cognizant but completely paralyzed and unable to truly recompense for your wrongs" kinda vibe. But that could be my pesky pessimism overshadowing the sunshine and all. Just watch it. It's impressionable, unforgettable, and moving. I'm glad I had B's hankie around, because my face would've been even messier than it usually is. ***SPOILER ALERT*** I'm so heartsick over the scene where the mother of Jean-Do's children, who is still madly in love with him despite how he abandoned her for someone else, is forced to translate over the phone to his lover. He knows how much it must hurt her, and yet he still tells her to tell his mistress, "Every day I wait for you." Man, I'm sorry, but that's pretty messed up. The mother of his children was visiting all the time, while the other bitch was M.I.A. Couldn't he just suck it up and make the first woman feel loved and appreciated? Especially since in the first ten minutes, he was sorrowfully saying that he could never make it up to her for how badly he treated her. Well, that was his chance right there, and he blew it!

I know, this was a long post. I've been behind on everything! Gah. I need to spread it out instead of bunching it all up into one big entry. I'll keep working on that.

Photobooth

I was unpacking my shoes from my overnight bag from NYE, and found this pic. Dre, Myles and me, all posing in the free instant photo booth. I have to see if Colburn can find the other one, so I can post it too! UPDATED at 8:17PM--Colburn hooked it up!

It's Just Another New Year's Eve

I have to blog now before I make excuses. The pics are up, so BOOM, baby!

For NYE, 07/08, I joined Dre and the boys in San Diego for Soom's brother's wedding. Held on the beautiful property of Le Costa Resort and Spa in Carlsbad, it boasted a sumptuous Indian buffet and an open bar. I had resolved not to drink, as usual, until Myles told me off in one rapid dictum: "I did not drive 130 miles so that you could be sober all night!"

So, I drank. (Refer to pics of alcohol and me, on the left. Else no one would believe me!) I had my first drink, a diluted Kamikaze on the rocks, and felt this cozy, gentle glow. Surely, I thought, I must be building a tolerance for the stuff! So I paced myself, then grabbed another one. All too suddenly, that soothing, vibrant warmth spiraled into a pulsating headache, crimson skin, and wobbly legs.

Despite my inebriated state from 1.5 drinks, I managed to snatch Dre's camera and take plenty of decent shots to immortalize the evening. You can see them all on her Picasa. Occasionally, people managed to take the camera back and get a picture of me, hence the shot of me pitifully trying to fondle Dre's breast and missing. That's my first time ever flubbing a tit-grope, and it better be the last!

Overall, it was a great night, with amazing people. Thanks, Dre, for curling my hair (the last time I can recall doing that was senior year prom, and now I want to go buy a hair curler badly!), and thanks Dre and Drea for taking care of me when I was THISCLOSE to hurling. Thanks to Tim for offering to carry me out on the makeshift stretcher. Thank you Soom, for letting me crash your brother's wedding, thanks to Myles for driving and forcing an innocent girl to drink (although your wicked hangover was karma enough), and Colburn rocks for keeping me warm when it was effin freezing outside!

We Need a Resolution

Since I had no specific aim (or any direction, in general) for the year, Dre suggested I blog more--and then laughed it off as a futile endeavor. Well, I'll show her! She has, like, ten blogs that she updates pretty regularly; I have two which I barely use. Here's to lucky number 3! Harboring a penchant for being a horrific rambler, I will attempt to keep these entries as short and sweet as possible. I also want to include lots of pictures from my awesome, but dusty, camera. Thus, I hope to both hold the attention span of the average reader and motivate myself to post more. We'll see how it goes.