Still no pics
Today's blog was almost predestined to let loose the floodgates of expletives to wash the few weary readers asunder. Instead I feel like a veritable god or lesser deity. Maybe just a guru, since I know that I've barely just stemmed that flow of foul-mouthed horror. How is this so? What can impassion one so deeply, and fling one's soul from the depths of despair to the dizzying summits of bliss?
None other than our dear friend, the x86 instruction set. Debugging this code is some sort of medieval torture, if they had computers in medieval days, or maybe it's just modern day tech-torture. Of course being able to fix something in it is quite the opposite. Like landing a spacecraft on the moon. Well, maybe not, but I'm sure those that had to land a spacecraft on the moon had plenty of their own assembly to deal with, even if it wasn't x86.
Now only if the female psyche was so easy to decipher...
Nov 5, 2002
Nov 1, 2002
...
I remember seeing what I thought was the peak of Mt. Whitney a few hours into our hike a few months back, thinking "That summit looks like it's 2 weeks away". But hiking's the process of putting one foot in front of the other until you reach that peak. I try not to talk about work into this blog, but to be honest, it takes up a good 12+ hours a day lately. And with a deadline coming up in two weeks, that looks like it'll take a month to reach, it's a matter of taking it a step at a time.
I snapped a bunch of random pics at the Halloween Party on Castro last night. If any of them come out decent I'll post something up.
Lyd's blog reminds me of having window seat dim sum at Dynasty on Bloor last year, watching snow swirling around the shoppers hurrying along the street.
Alright, back to work.
I remember seeing what I thought was the peak of Mt. Whitney a few hours into our hike a few months back, thinking "That summit looks like it's 2 weeks away". But hiking's the process of putting one foot in front of the other until you reach that peak. I try not to talk about work into this blog, but to be honest, it takes up a good 12+ hours a day lately. And with a deadline coming up in two weeks, that looks like it'll take a month to reach, it's a matter of taking it a step at a time.
I snapped a bunch of random pics at the Halloween Party on Castro last night. If any of them come out decent I'll post something up.
Lyd's blog reminds me of having window seat dim sum at Dynasty on Bloor last year, watching snow swirling around the shoppers hurrying along the street.
Alright, back to work.
Oct 25, 2002
Chat
Looks like Blogger got hacked, but it seems that this would only affect those who are using FTP to publish (instead of blogspot). It's been a busy week, er, month. I'm thinking it's Monday night, but it's Friday already. The last 120 hours sure went by fast.
I went surfing last Sunday on some pretty great waves. More work than snowboarding, but it's a lot cheaper. In response to a few other bloggers, should they happen to surf by here:
Wongoz, they probably didn't wave the pricetags around at photokina (why can't they have those shows over here?) SD9 $1800, EOS-1Ds $8000, and considering each pixel on the SD9 is equivalent to almost 3 pixels ont the EOS-1DS. Of course, the EOS-1Ds has tonnes more features. Oh, and I wouldn't mind linking to your home page if there was a direct link to your current blog from there.
Yuling: brought up a few interesting questions, but the failure of philosophy is reducing arguments to technicalities that don't translate into anything meaningful in reality. Both the oak tree and the omnipotence issue are a matter of language and definition. Using the given definition of an oak tree, there are no such things as oak trees. Hence God cannot create one. Shucks. Similarly, the implied definition of omnipotence is being able to do the impossible. It depends if you believe God exists in an alternat plane free of any logical or mathematical laws. For example, can God make 1=0?
I was at a Pascal Lecture in Waterloo given by Donald Knuth titled "God and Computer Science", where he outlines the idea that if God's ability was incomprehensibly large, but finite, it would make no practical difference to us than if he were omnipotent.
Jon: I'm sure you and Justin must have had a fabulous time shoe shopping. Did you get matching bags? I'm sure you did.
Tam: Update! Even if it isn't in blog form :)
Alright, now for a nice relaxing weekend...
Looks like Blogger got hacked, but it seems that this would only affect those who are using FTP to publish (instead of blogspot). It's been a busy week, er, month. I'm thinking it's Monday night, but it's Friday already. The last 120 hours sure went by fast.
I went surfing last Sunday on some pretty great waves. More work than snowboarding, but it's a lot cheaper. In response to a few other bloggers, should they happen to surf by here:
Wongoz, they probably didn't wave the pricetags around at photokina (why can't they have those shows over here?) SD9 $1800, EOS-1Ds $8000, and considering each pixel on the SD9 is equivalent to almost 3 pixels ont the EOS-1DS. Of course, the EOS-1Ds has tonnes more features. Oh, and I wouldn't mind linking to your home page if there was a direct link to your current blog from there.
Yuling: brought up a few interesting questions, but the failure of philosophy is reducing arguments to technicalities that don't translate into anything meaningful in reality. Both the oak tree and the omnipotence issue are a matter of language and definition. Using the given definition of an oak tree, there are no such things as oak trees. Hence God cannot create one. Shucks. Similarly, the implied definition of omnipotence is being able to do the impossible. It depends if you believe God exists in an alternat plane free of any logical or mathematical laws. For example, can God make 1=0?
I was at a Pascal Lecture in Waterloo given by Donald Knuth titled "God and Computer Science", where he outlines the idea that if God's ability was incomprehensibly large, but finite, it would make no practical difference to us than if he were omnipotent.
Jon: I'm sure you and Justin must have had a fabulous time shoe shopping. Did you get matching bags? I'm sure you did.
Tam: Update! Even if it isn't in blog form :)
Alright, now for a nice relaxing weekend...
Oct 19, 2002
Clarification
I don't dig blondes. However, as suggested by Wongz, I do dig the Sigma SD9 which was the camera used to capture that picture linked in the last post. It's a 3.3 Megapixel camera like my current G1, but the Foveon sensor's actual resolution is much higher. Unfortunately, so is the price tag. I seriously need an inside source.
Death by VHS
It seems like months since I went to see a movie in the theaters; six months ago i must have been going once a week. I caught the ring last night with low expectations, following unimpressive reviews on the Star and New York Times. Perhaps it was the preparation for disappointment, but the horror film actually came off as not bad. It's a far cry from the teeny scream flicks that were poured out on the general public a few years back. The film is much more of an unfolding mystery or detective story, but with an ominous creepiness weighing down the entire film. It was reminiscent of What Lies Beneath, but with more asian inspired style, and less Hitchcockian suspense. The film had it's share of faults. There were a lot of themes thrown in that made little sense, but successfully added to the creepiness. The plot was mostly predictable but had just barely enough minor twists thrown in to keep make it slightly interesting. The suspense was lacking in a few scenes that were cut a little too long. But overall, it was entertaining, and the concepts successfully more freaky than comedic. Luckily for me, I only watch DVDs. (3.5 / 5)
I don't dig blondes. However, as suggested by Wongz, I do dig the Sigma SD9 which was the camera used to capture that picture linked in the last post. It's a 3.3 Megapixel camera like my current G1, but the Foveon sensor's actual resolution is much higher. Unfortunately, so is the price tag. I seriously need an inside source.
Death by VHS
It seems like months since I went to see a movie in the theaters; six months ago i must have been going once a week. I caught the ring last night with low expectations, following unimpressive reviews on the Star and New York Times. Perhaps it was the preparation for disappointment, but the horror film actually came off as not bad. It's a far cry from the teeny scream flicks that were poured out on the general public a few years back. The film is much more of an unfolding mystery or detective story, but with an ominous creepiness weighing down the entire film. It was reminiscent of What Lies Beneath, but with more asian inspired style, and less Hitchcockian suspense. The film had it's share of faults. There were a lot of themes thrown in that made little sense, but successfully added to the creepiness. The plot was mostly predictable but had just barely enough minor twists thrown in to keep make it slightly interesting. The suspense was lacking in a few scenes that were cut a little too long. But overall, it was entertaining, and the concepts successfully more freaky than comedic. Luckily for me, I only watch DVDs. (3.5 / 5)
Oct 17, 2002
Damn Yankees
Scenario: Madman sniper in Maryland takes a pleasure drive up to D.C. where he does the peaceful peoples of the world a favour by taking out the biggest threat to world peace.
Crazy talk you say? Maybe we should go with the president's philosophy. Confronting grave dangers is the surest path to peace and security. Aristotle spoke of politics as the practical branch of philosophy with which to govern people for their benefit. It's becoming clear, however, that American foreign policy is based on the philosophies of "the best defense is a good offense" as much as "might makes right".
Even if one believes that Dubya, son of oil speculator George Sr., is acting out of national defense rather than middle eastern oil-field speculation, the philosophy of using weapons of mass destruction in order to prevent another country from creating them, simply confounds me.
Yeah, I haven't blogged in a while. Most writers have their muse, whether it be ecstasy or despair, which I assume is why the less artistically inclined tend to fade into the daily grind. I think I'm missing that joie de vivre, the extra bam! I've had little to think about and less to tell the world. Perhaps I can claim that I've figured out there really isn't much to figure out. But thank you George, your October 16th Iraq Resolution has brought forth waves of revulsion in my soul like nothing else in the past year. It's no wonder the world hates America.
Scenario: Madman sniper in Maryland takes a pleasure drive up to D.C. where he does the peaceful peoples of the world a favour by taking out the biggest threat to world peace.
Crazy talk you say? Maybe we should go with the president's philosophy. Confronting grave dangers is the surest path to peace and security. Aristotle spoke of politics as the practical branch of philosophy with which to govern people for their benefit. It's becoming clear, however, that American foreign policy is based on the philosophies of "the best defense is a good offense" as much as "might makes right".
Even if one believes that Dubya, son of oil speculator George Sr., is acting out of national defense rather than middle eastern oil-field speculation, the philosophy of using weapons of mass destruction in order to prevent another country from creating them, simply confounds me.
Yeah, I haven't blogged in a while. Most writers have their muse, whether it be ecstasy or despair, which I assume is why the less artistically inclined tend to fade into the daily grind. I think I'm missing that joie de vivre, the extra bam! I've had little to think about and less to tell the world. Perhaps I can claim that I've figured out there really isn't much to figure out. But thank you George, your October 16th Iraq Resolution has brought forth waves of revulsion in my soul like nothing else in the past year. It's no wonder the world hates America.
Oct 14, 2002
Jul 22, 2002
Blah blah blah
What a rut. I need to find something to do. We might go surfing this weekend.
Anyways, there was an earthquake, way back on May 13. I was on the phone at the time, and at first I heard a loud rumbling - I thought it was just someone moving a heavy load outside, but it was awfully loud. After a few seconds, I could feel the wall I was leaning against shake heavily for a few seconds. It didn't seem like any of the crazy earthquake videos I've seen, and although I could see things shake, it died down before I got anxious. The more amusing story was related by my co-worker - he thought there was something wrong with his head when he couldn't maintain his aim on the toilet...
What a rut. I need to find something to do. We might go surfing this weekend.
Anyways, there was an earthquake, way back on May 13. I was on the phone at the time, and at first I heard a loud rumbling - I thought it was just someone moving a heavy load outside, but it was awfully loud. After a few seconds, I could feel the wall I was leaning against shake heavily for a few seconds. It didn't seem like any of the crazy earthquake videos I've seen, and although I could see things shake, it died down before I got anxious. The more amusing story was related by my co-worker - he thought there was something wrong with his head when he couldn't maintain his aim on the toilet...
Jul 16, 2002
Dark clouds over July
It's been a while since I last looked at other people's blogs. The month has been pretty dry - but who am I to talk; it's been three weeks since I've last touched this though it hasn't seemed half that long. A lot of things have passed since then, and I can't remember everything that I've meant to pen here.
June 30th was the closest thing we've had to a perfect day trip. Our group met for lunch on the patio of the Parkside Cafe (3/5), a stone's throw away from Stinson Beach, a relaxed beachside community isolated about an hour north of San Francisco by a twisty stretch of Pacific hugging highway. After an extended lunch under the lazy weekend sun, some of us toured the beach while the rest drove two cars to the top of Mt. Tamalpais. After returning to the beach in a third car, we hiked up one of the many trails from the beach to the top of the mountain.
The seven and a half mile hike took us about three and a half hours at a relaxed pace, though sections of the trail were steep enough to feel sweat dripping down our foreheads and our hearts pounding with the ascent. We got to the top about an hour early for our goal. On the peak was a fire watchtower, where firemen were posted two weeks at a time, scanning the horizon for signs of forest fires in the dry season. While they had their supper within the confines of their cramped tower, we sat on the rocks, watching the thick fog blow in from the Pacific, over San Francisco and the Golden Gate to the southeast.
As the shadow of the mountain stretched slowly, mile by mile, over the city of Sausalito below, the mercury dropped and the rushing of the winds picked up. Most of the tourists - photographers drawn by the perfect light, couples searching for a romantic spot behind clump of rocks, or families of hiking kids - had already left the peak, but a handful, including our group, stayed to watch the last fleeting rays as the sun dropped below the mountains to the west.
On the drive back, we stopped at Cristophe for dinner. A four course French cuisine that was hearty enough to leave each of us stuffed to the seams after the long day on the trail came to $22 (4/5).
The next evening, after a church and a quiet afternoon, I was completely shocked to hear Amy's anguished cries over the phone, telling me that her father had passed. For a moment I was firmly entrenched in reality, yet the moment passing seemed surreal as the cell phone disconnected, and I felt only a total sense of helplessness. Later, when I was in Economy check-in line for United Airlines, I had the same disoriented sense watching people milling about the airport. Businessmen looked busy on cell phones. Some mothers tended their children on the benches while fathers waited in line with the luggage. Other families looked well prepared for a South Pacific vacation. One girl, who looked no more than seventeen, was carrying a baby in the ticketing line for almost the entire hour that I was in the check-in line, yet she still had a contented look on her face as she played with the child.
There's a dissonance in the perception of men. Standing there in the airport, I could see the happiness in the family gladly looking towards their vacation, the anticipation on the face of the old woman who was going home, the determination of the business flyers, yet inside I felt the incurable trauma that another family was living. As immense that it was, a complete breach in the fabric of their reality, I also knew that life went on as usual for most of the other six billion faces on the planet. Indeed, no one else at the airport would likely guess as to why I was travelling that day. Never before that day, have I ever looked at person waiting at the airport, thinking 'oh, they must be travelling to visit a dying relative'.
Already in the small circle of blogs, are there mentions of at least two other passings in the last two months. Our response - the feelings of sympathy, the words of consolation, are so drastically different than those in the lives directly touched. I sit here at my desk wondering and completely oblvious to what's going on at the current moment: children in Africa who maybe saying goodbye to their parents, parents in Cambodia who could be putting their children to rest.
"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world."
It's been a while since I last looked at other people's blogs. The month has been pretty dry - but who am I to talk; it's been three weeks since I've last touched this though it hasn't seemed half that long. A lot of things have passed since then, and I can't remember everything that I've meant to pen here.
June 30th was the closest thing we've had to a perfect day trip. Our group met for lunch on the patio of the Parkside Cafe (3/5), a stone's throw away from Stinson Beach, a relaxed beachside community isolated about an hour north of San Francisco by a twisty stretch of Pacific hugging highway. After an extended lunch under the lazy weekend sun, some of us toured the beach while the rest drove two cars to the top of Mt. Tamalpais. After returning to the beach in a third car, we hiked up one of the many trails from the beach to the top of the mountain.
The seven and a half mile hike took us about three and a half hours at a relaxed pace, though sections of the trail were steep enough to feel sweat dripping down our foreheads and our hearts pounding with the ascent. We got to the top about an hour early for our goal. On the peak was a fire watchtower, where firemen were posted two weeks at a time, scanning the horizon for signs of forest fires in the dry season. While they had their supper within the confines of their cramped tower, we sat on the rocks, watching the thick fog blow in from the Pacific, over San Francisco and the Golden Gate to the southeast.
As the shadow of the mountain stretched slowly, mile by mile, over the city of Sausalito below, the mercury dropped and the rushing of the winds picked up. Most of the tourists - photographers drawn by the perfect light, couples searching for a romantic spot behind clump of rocks, or families of hiking kids - had already left the peak, but a handful, including our group, stayed to watch the last fleeting rays as the sun dropped below the mountains to the west.
On the drive back, we stopped at Cristophe for dinner. A four course French cuisine that was hearty enough to leave each of us stuffed to the seams after the long day on the trail came to $22 (4/5).
The next evening, after a church and a quiet afternoon, I was completely shocked to hear Amy's anguished cries over the phone, telling me that her father had passed. For a moment I was firmly entrenched in reality, yet the moment passing seemed surreal as the cell phone disconnected, and I felt only a total sense of helplessness. Later, when I was in Economy check-in line for United Airlines, I had the same disoriented sense watching people milling about the airport. Businessmen looked busy on cell phones. Some mothers tended their children on the benches while fathers waited in line with the luggage. Other families looked well prepared for a South Pacific vacation. One girl, who looked no more than seventeen, was carrying a baby in the ticketing line for almost the entire hour that I was in the check-in line, yet she still had a contented look on her face as she played with the child.
There's a dissonance in the perception of men. Standing there in the airport, I could see the happiness in the family gladly looking towards their vacation, the anticipation on the face of the old woman who was going home, the determination of the business flyers, yet inside I felt the incurable trauma that another family was living. As immense that it was, a complete breach in the fabric of their reality, I also knew that life went on as usual for most of the other six billion faces on the planet. Indeed, no one else at the airport would likely guess as to why I was travelling that day. Never before that day, have I ever looked at person waiting at the airport, thinking 'oh, they must be travelling to visit a dying relative'.
Already in the small circle of blogs, are there mentions of at least two other passings in the last two months. Our response - the feelings of sympathy, the words of consolation, are so drastically different than those in the lives directly touched. I sit here at my desk wondering and completely oblvious to what's going on at the current moment: children in Africa who maybe saying goodbye to their parents, parents in Cambodia who could be putting their children to rest.
"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world."
Jun 24, 2002
An exceeding high mountain
Two weeks ago, a group of Waterloo grads made it to Mt. Whitney, the highest peak in the lower 48 states. That's actually a bit of hyperbole, since it only ranks 28 in the list of tallest mountains in North America.
We started on a Friday evening, with two minivans driving seven hours to Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks. After camping out for a few hours in tents and the vans, most of us were up by 4am. By 5am we were on our way to the Whitney Portal Trailhead. While we started out as a group, we had pretty much split up into a number of smaller groups after the first 4 miles.
A 15 hour hike generally gives you plenty of time to think. When you're not thinking 'how much further to the peak?', you may ponder some of life's more interesting questions. Like 'why the !@#$ am I doing this?'. I don't know what the driving force is for climbing up a mountain. In essence we hiked 22 miles that day, and ended up at the same campsite we started at. By 3pm, we made it to the summit, which at 14,493 feet, is about half the height of Everest. It's not like you're actually reaching an especially high altitude - anyone who's been on a 747 has probably been three times as high.
Halfway to the peak, you're already thinking about going to sleep by the side of the trail. The air is thin enough to give you vertigo after hiking a hundred feet, and it was cool enough for snow and ice to wander across the trail in patches. Climbing up the switchbacks become a matter of just putting one foot ahead of another until you reach the summit. By the time you reach 4,000 ft., the air is thin enough to make your head hurt. Winds are howling around you, and the trail gets rough. You have to pull out the fleece and the winter gloves. You look up to the summit, your head pounding and feet aching, the final two miles seem to stretch incredibly further than the first nine.
Somewhere along the way you realize just how rugged nature is - piles of rocks that have been around for hundreds of thousands of years. Snow that never melts. Trees and shrubs and even grass have stopped growing a few thousand feet below you. The glare of the high altitude sun blazes around you throught the cloudless sky, burning as it ripples off the icy surfaces of the lakes pooled below you.
When you look down from the summit, you realize the incredible beauty behind the piles of bleak rock, veins of ice crawling down the mountains, and half-frozen aqua lakes whose surfaces are in wrinkled with floating ice. In every direction around you, the Sierra Nevadas break the horizon while the wind bites into your skin. "What does man gain from all his labor at which he toils under the sun?" What is changed by climbing up a mountain? Compared to the age of rocks and ice, what lasting value do any of man's accomplishments have?
"Be happy, young man, while you are young, and let your heart give you joy in the days of your youth. Follow the ways of your heart, and whatever your eyes see, but know that for all these things God will bring you to judgement." Forget the pain, hunger, and cold on the way up, it all disappeared with the thrill of being at the top.
Two weeks ago, a group of Waterloo grads made it to Mt. Whitney, the highest peak in the lower 48 states. That's actually a bit of hyperbole, since it only ranks 28 in the list of tallest mountains in North America.
We started on a Friday evening, with two minivans driving seven hours to Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks. After camping out for a few hours in tents and the vans, most of us were up by 4am. By 5am we were on our way to the Whitney Portal Trailhead. While we started out as a group, we had pretty much split up into a number of smaller groups after the first 4 miles.
A 15 hour hike generally gives you plenty of time to think. When you're not thinking 'how much further to the peak?', you may ponder some of life's more interesting questions. Like 'why the !@#$ am I doing this?'. I don't know what the driving force is for climbing up a mountain. In essence we hiked 22 miles that day, and ended up at the same campsite we started at. By 3pm, we made it to the summit, which at 14,493 feet, is about half the height of Everest. It's not like you're actually reaching an especially high altitude - anyone who's been on a 747 has probably been three times as high.
Halfway to the peak, you're already thinking about going to sleep by the side of the trail. The air is thin enough to give you vertigo after hiking a hundred feet, and it was cool enough for snow and ice to wander across the trail in patches. Climbing up the switchbacks become a matter of just putting one foot ahead of another until you reach the summit. By the time you reach 4,000 ft., the air is thin enough to make your head hurt. Winds are howling around you, and the trail gets rough. You have to pull out the fleece and the winter gloves. You look up to the summit, your head pounding and feet aching, the final two miles seem to stretch incredibly further than the first nine.
Somewhere along the way you realize just how rugged nature is - piles of rocks that have been around for hundreds of thousands of years. Snow that never melts. Trees and shrubs and even grass have stopped growing a few thousand feet below you. The glare of the high altitude sun blazes around you throught the cloudless sky, burning as it ripples off the icy surfaces of the lakes pooled below you.
When you look down from the summit, you realize the incredible beauty behind the piles of bleak rock, veins of ice crawling down the mountains, and half-frozen aqua lakes whose surfaces are in wrinkled with floating ice. In every direction around you, the Sierra Nevadas break the horizon while the wind bites into your skin. "What does man gain from all his labor at which he toils under the sun?" What is changed by climbing up a mountain? Compared to the age of rocks and ice, what lasting value do any of man's accomplishments have?
"Be happy, young man, while you are young, and let your heart give you joy in the days of your youth. Follow the ways of your heart, and whatever your eyes see, but know that for all these things God will bring you to judgement." Forget the pain, hunger, and cold on the way up, it all disappeared with the thrill of being at the top.
Jun 13, 2002
Days gone by
There are times when life simply flies by in a blur, like the cornstalks whizzing past as you hurtle down the pavement cutting through the midst of them. Maybe you're preoccupied with the traffic, maybe you're driving too fast, or maybe you've just been mesmerized by the little yellow lines flipping by regularly one after another, like days in a neverending calendar.
It was the Memorial Day long weekend May 24-27. Since Lancer and Corgan went down to E3 the week before, the rest of us up in the Bay packed ourselves up and prepared ourselves for the grueling long weekend traffic down to L.A., our rental Windstar merely an ant in the trail of crawling metal stretching 300 miles down to LA. We left San Jose, Friday night at 5pm, which was probably about the worst time we could have left. We arrived at the L.A. Westin Airport hotel seven hours later. Our two Priceline rooms, at $70 each a night, had plush pillows, clean comforters, and fancy double-headed showers. The hotel also happened to be hosting a Gaming Conference, with all the included characters.
Our first destination on Saturday was the Getty Museum. We met up with the Ottawa crew by the tram from the parking to the museum, about an hour after they were supposed to arrive. We spent the first half of the day wandering the galleries in the off white pavilions, wandering through the manicured gardens and topiary. After a lunch of grilled chicken and fig sandwiches and mozzarella, tomato and basil calabrese at the Garden Terrace cafe, we finished up at the museum and drove along Mulholland Drive, through the Beverly Hills, and up to the Hollywood sign. The sign itself is supposed to be off limits, although there's a relatively rough off-road trail that makes it accessible to those willing to make the hike. When you get to the 45 foot tall steel letters, you realize there really isn't much there, just a bit of garbage here and there, evidence of people having had their fun.
After getting up to the lonely landmark of the oppulent and taking a few photos - trophies of our conquest - we hiked back to the cars where some of the less adventurous were napping. We drove back down to Rodeo Drive; it was almost 6pm and the designer boutiques were closing up. After swinging past the far-too-expensive storefronts, browsing through the assortment of fancy automobiles parked on the street, and stopping for a few photos, we took a walk to the Ottawa guys' hotel, allegedly three blocks away. Make that extremely large values of three. Arislan eventually swung around to pick us up (since those guys were too lazy to walk and had fittingly decided to drive).
We had an evening snack at Factor's Famous Deli. It was 8pm, but it was ang evening snack regardless, since our actual dinner reservation wasn't until 10pm. Factor's served the typical deli fare; a few people had sandwiches or salads, the rest of us sat around and munched on the assortment of complimentary pickles. The sandwiches were mouthwatering, but the muffins they served were probably bought elsewhere.
It was just one of those days where you seemed to be constantly eating. Sticking food in your mouth and chewing and swallowing all so you can just do it again. The real dinner came later at Lucques on Melrose Ave for Asmodean's birthday. Reservations were made a day in advance, and that got our group of 12 a 10pm seating, which required a $20/person deposit. The decor was a subdued hip - white linens and modern furniture surrounding an exposed brick fireplace and chimney. At 10pm, the restaurant was in full swing, the tables were packed and we had to edge between seated diners to get to our table. The menu was simple, appetizers, entrees and a selection of sides. None of the mad five course menus you find at other posh places. A few people ordered appetizers but most of us just went for an entree.
The spring lamb itself was done well, it was cooked to medium for a tender yet still bouncy consistency. The peas and fava beans that garnished it seemed out of place, not adding much in flavour nor presentation. The soft-shell crab was deep fried, very similar to Japanese restaurants, with little to distinguish it. The crab's always good, but it would have been better served had it been drained - they're fatty enough on their own. Service however, was subpar in a few respects.
We returned to the Ottawa crew's hotel room to serve up the gag cake imported from San Francisco. The cake didn't quite make the trip intact. I thought it was from my poor driving in the long weekend traffic. In reality, when the trunk of the minivan was opened on our arrival to L.A., the cake had made a somersault from the top of the pile of luggage, off the rear bumper and onto the floor. It was in surprisingly good condition after the exercise.
The orignal plan for Sunday was to visit San Diego (maybe to visit the Zoo or the beach or Legoland. The weather report was rather cool for the beach, and neither of the other attractions seemed to make the 3hr drive worthwhile. It occured to me that we could go to Evergreen Baptist Church in the morning, but we were unprepared and didn't have directions. We ended up looking in the yellow pages, and ended up at Our Saviour Lutheran Church in Westchester, being the first place I could find the directions to. Three of us made our way to the ordinary little community church. Five minutes before the service, we got into the church despite the fact that it was almost empty. No celebrity pastors here, but it was certainly wasn't the usual. The congregation had about 20 very friendly seniors, the service was very orthodox, and on that particular Sunday, included a recitation of the Athanasian Creed. We stayed for donuts and recommendations to visit the Hollywood bowl before we left.
We joined the rest of the crew for a relaxed Sunday brunch basking on the patio of the Rose Cafe in Santa Monica, and spent the rest of the afternoon playing volleyball on Venice beach. A friend of my Dad's took me out for dinner in the Chinese neighborhood, Monterey Park, later that evening. First time I've had anything remotely Shanghainese since coming down to California. Dinner was followed with taro ice and red bean ice. We met up with the other guys again after dinner, and drove down Sunset Blvd. in search of nightlife. After passing by a couple of hiphop clubs with lines extending for hours and exorbitant covers. Somehow we ended up at some club near Sunset and Cahuenga (no one seems to have caught the name before entering), best described as goth, retro and new wave. Both the costumes and characters were colourful, to say the least.
Since we didn't have anything planned for Monday (other than the drive home), we lazed the morning away in Santa Monica, where buskers entertained in the avenue full of shops and restaurants, people crowded the midway on the pier, and the beach stretched forever in both directions. We had Thai for lunch, and simply strolled through Santa Monica taking in the sights and sounds of the beachfront. It was our last stop in L.A. as we picked up our cars from the parking complex and headed back onto the 405 to make our way home.
A week later I was skipping out on work early on Friday yet again. Instead of heading to the city, I was headed out to Yosemite National Park. After years of National Geographic articles and photos, I was finally going to see the park for myself. Somehow, that magazine made every locale exotic, whether it was a rainforest, a bustling city, or a farm in the Midwest. Road trips in California tend to be scenic, passing the sea, or rolling hills, mountains, desert, or even fields packed with cows.
This trip only had the four of us, so I drove my own car. The traffic was relatively light for a friday evening, probably because it was a long weekend just before. After stopping at In-n-Out for dinner in Merced, the sky was getting dark. The passengers busted out the notebook and popped in Ocean's 11. While they watched the flickering screen, I watched the flickering mountain top ahead of me, as blades of lightning lit up the night sky around the silhouette of the Sierra Nevada range.
It was 23:00 by the time we arrived at Curry Village in Yosemite. The tent cabins we reserved were made of heavy canvas draped around a wood frame. Although pretty secure against the elements, the tarp didn't do much to block out external noise. It's like sleeping with a hundred unseen campers. A cough here, a sneeze there, a creak of the bed. The dirt path crunches softly as someone walks past. Sounds of people getting up and about starting ringing through the camp by 5am.
By 9am everyone's ready to go. The sky was cloudy and the wind was cool. We head to the trailhead on our way up to Half Dome. The hike is 16.4 miles (roundtrip), ascending 4,796 vertical feet. We're already an hour behind our intended start time as we make a breakfast of Doritos, Nutri-grain bars and Gatorade. We started the trail, guessing at which peak the trail lead to. In late May, the rivers running through Yosemite are mostly in full swing, carrying down the winter melt. We passed Vernal Falls, and the higher up Nevada Falls, both roaring with icy white water.
Eventually the rocky trail smoothed out into a softer forest trail, and we covered most of the distance shaded by trees. We spotted a wolf, a deer, and numerous rodents and birds. Dark blue Steller's jays would occasionally appear and fly ahead of us. Toward the top, the trees thinned out as we approached the bald rock that was the summit. Two heavy cables were strung to assist hikers up the 45° incline up the final few hundred feet to the top.
By 16:00 we had all made it to the top, although it seemed as if everyone else had already left. The sun was peeking through some of the clouds as we spent a few minutes savouring the victory and the view at the total elevation of 8,836 ft. When we started heading down, it was clear the steep steps up to the summit had taken their toll. Our pace was slow despite the downward incline. Two of us had gone somewhat faster, and we stopped by Nevada falls and rested, watching the sun drift slowly towards the mountains, casting the rocks rising above the valley in an orange glow.
We hurried along after that, since no one had expected the hike to take so long - none of us carried a flashlight and the light was dimming fast. By 21:00 we were mostly traveling by the starlight that trickled in through the trees, and had split up into two pairs since we were going down at different paces. Behind us came a few lights swinging through the darkness, we waited as a large group of Hispanic hikers met up with us. They had spotted two people headed down the stock trail (as in, a trail for horses). I had hoped it wasn't the other two members of our group - they must have been further behind since the flashlights were actually pretty close behind us. We took a shot down the horse trail for a few minutes, but didn't find anyone. If anyone had actually headed down there they were going at a fast pace in the dark.
We returned to the fork, where two guys from the other hiking group volunteered to search the stock trail while the rest of us headed on to the bridge at Vernal falls. We waited in the dark, staring up into a deep blue sky specked with stars. Someone in the other group said a prayer in Spanish for our missing friends. The two guys returned in half an hour, they hadn't seen anyone on the trail. We continued slowly down the trail. By the time we got to the bottom and got a ride back to Curry Village, it was already 22:30.
If the lesson learned wasn't 'don't overestimate your group's pace', then it's 'park rangers will not come help you'. Throughout the evening I called the park ranger dispatch a number of times. It seemed her job was to pacify callers. We spent the next few hours trying to hike up the trails with a dying flashlight in hopes of finding them. We tried calling out, but any voices were simply drowned out by the river. Finally, the dispatch agreed to lend me a few fully charged flashlight, but the park rangers didn't come to deliver them till 01:30, by which time I was already exhausted. After assurances that they wouldn't suffer hypothermia in the wind, we resigned to parking by the trailhead and sleeping until morning broke.
We went back to Curry Village to call the park ranger at 5am before heading back up the trails. After searching the two mile loop from the trailhead to the end of the stock trail, we managed to find the two of them sitting satisfied in the Food Pavilion, after having survived the night in the wilderness, making it down sometime during the morning, and polishing off a buffet breakfast. After grabbing a Red Bull for the road, we made our way home.
The weekend after that I hiked Mt. Whitney, the highest peak in the lower 48 states and Hawaii, but I'll leave that story for another day.
There are times when life simply flies by in a blur, like the cornstalks whizzing past as you hurtle down the pavement cutting through the midst of them. Maybe you're preoccupied with the traffic, maybe you're driving too fast, or maybe you've just been mesmerized by the little yellow lines flipping by regularly one after another, like days in a neverending calendar.
It was the Memorial Day long weekend May 24-27. Since Lancer and Corgan went down to E3 the week before, the rest of us up in the Bay packed ourselves up and prepared ourselves for the grueling long weekend traffic down to L.A., our rental Windstar merely an ant in the trail of crawling metal stretching 300 miles down to LA. We left San Jose, Friday night at 5pm, which was probably about the worst time we could have left. We arrived at the L.A. Westin Airport hotel seven hours later. Our two Priceline rooms, at $70 each a night, had plush pillows, clean comforters, and fancy double-headed showers. The hotel also happened to be hosting a Gaming Conference, with all the included characters.
Our first destination on Saturday was the Getty Museum. We met up with the Ottawa crew by the tram from the parking to the museum, about an hour after they were supposed to arrive. We spent the first half of the day wandering the galleries in the off white pavilions, wandering through the manicured gardens and topiary. After a lunch of grilled chicken and fig sandwiches and mozzarella, tomato and basil calabrese at the Garden Terrace cafe, we finished up at the museum and drove along Mulholland Drive, through the Beverly Hills, and up to the Hollywood sign. The sign itself is supposed to be off limits, although there's a relatively rough off-road trail that makes it accessible to those willing to make the hike. When you get to the 45 foot tall steel letters, you realize there really isn't much there, just a bit of garbage here and there, evidence of people having had their fun.
After getting up to the lonely landmark of the oppulent and taking a few photos - trophies of our conquest - we hiked back to the cars where some of the less adventurous were napping. We drove back down to Rodeo Drive; it was almost 6pm and the designer boutiques were closing up. After swinging past the far-too-expensive storefronts, browsing through the assortment of fancy automobiles parked on the street, and stopping for a few photos, we took a walk to the Ottawa guys' hotel, allegedly three blocks away. Make that extremely large values of three. Arislan eventually swung around to pick us up (since those guys were too lazy to walk and had fittingly decided to drive).
We had an evening snack at Factor's Famous Deli. It was 8pm, but it was ang evening snack regardless, since our actual dinner reservation wasn't until 10pm. Factor's served the typical deli fare; a few people had sandwiches or salads, the rest of us sat around and munched on the assortment of complimentary pickles. The sandwiches were mouthwatering, but the muffins they served were probably bought elsewhere.
It was just one of those days where you seemed to be constantly eating. Sticking food in your mouth and chewing and swallowing all so you can just do it again. The real dinner came later at Lucques on Melrose Ave for Asmodean's birthday. Reservations were made a day in advance, and that got our group of 12 a 10pm seating, which required a $20/person deposit. The decor was a subdued hip - white linens and modern furniture surrounding an exposed brick fireplace and chimney. At 10pm, the restaurant was in full swing, the tables were packed and we had to edge between seated diners to get to our table. The menu was simple, appetizers, entrees and a selection of sides. None of the mad five course menus you find at other posh places. A few people ordered appetizers but most of us just went for an entree.
The spring lamb itself was done well, it was cooked to medium for a tender yet still bouncy consistency. The peas and fava beans that garnished it seemed out of place, not adding much in flavour nor presentation. The soft-shell crab was deep fried, very similar to Japanese restaurants, with little to distinguish it. The crab's always good, but it would have been better served had it been drained - they're fatty enough on their own. Service however, was subpar in a few respects.
We returned to the Ottawa crew's hotel room to serve up the gag cake imported from San Francisco. The cake didn't quite make the trip intact. I thought it was from my poor driving in the long weekend traffic. In reality, when the trunk of the minivan was opened on our arrival to L.A., the cake had made a somersault from the top of the pile of luggage, off the rear bumper and onto the floor. It was in surprisingly good condition after the exercise.
The orignal plan for Sunday was to visit San Diego (maybe to visit the Zoo or the beach or Legoland. The weather report was rather cool for the beach, and neither of the other attractions seemed to make the 3hr drive worthwhile. It occured to me that we could go to Evergreen Baptist Church in the morning, but we were unprepared and didn't have directions. We ended up looking in the yellow pages, and ended up at Our Saviour Lutheran Church in Westchester, being the first place I could find the directions to. Three of us made our way to the ordinary little community church. Five minutes before the service, we got into the church despite the fact that it was almost empty. No celebrity pastors here, but it was certainly wasn't the usual. The congregation had about 20 very friendly seniors, the service was very orthodox, and on that particular Sunday, included a recitation of the Athanasian Creed. We stayed for donuts and recommendations to visit the Hollywood bowl before we left.
We joined the rest of the crew for a relaxed Sunday brunch basking on the patio of the Rose Cafe in Santa Monica, and spent the rest of the afternoon playing volleyball on Venice beach. A friend of my Dad's took me out for dinner in the Chinese neighborhood, Monterey Park, later that evening. First time I've had anything remotely Shanghainese since coming down to California. Dinner was followed with taro ice and red bean ice. We met up with the other guys again after dinner, and drove down Sunset Blvd. in search of nightlife. After passing by a couple of hiphop clubs with lines extending for hours and exorbitant covers. Somehow we ended up at some club near Sunset and Cahuenga (no one seems to have caught the name before entering), best described as goth, retro and new wave. Both the costumes and characters were colourful, to say the least.
Since we didn't have anything planned for Monday (other than the drive home), we lazed the morning away in Santa Monica, where buskers entertained in the avenue full of shops and restaurants, people crowded the midway on the pier, and the beach stretched forever in both directions. We had Thai for lunch, and simply strolled through Santa Monica taking in the sights and sounds of the beachfront. It was our last stop in L.A. as we picked up our cars from the parking complex and headed back onto the 405 to make our way home.
A week later I was skipping out on work early on Friday yet again. Instead of heading to the city, I was headed out to Yosemite National Park. After years of National Geographic articles and photos, I was finally going to see the park for myself. Somehow, that magazine made every locale exotic, whether it was a rainforest, a bustling city, or a farm in the Midwest. Road trips in California tend to be scenic, passing the sea, or rolling hills, mountains, desert, or even fields packed with cows.
This trip only had the four of us, so I drove my own car. The traffic was relatively light for a friday evening, probably because it was a long weekend just before. After stopping at In-n-Out for dinner in Merced, the sky was getting dark. The passengers busted out the notebook and popped in Ocean's 11. While they watched the flickering screen, I watched the flickering mountain top ahead of me, as blades of lightning lit up the night sky around the silhouette of the Sierra Nevada range.
It was 23:00 by the time we arrived at Curry Village in Yosemite. The tent cabins we reserved were made of heavy canvas draped around a wood frame. Although pretty secure against the elements, the tarp didn't do much to block out external noise. It's like sleeping with a hundred unseen campers. A cough here, a sneeze there, a creak of the bed. The dirt path crunches softly as someone walks past. Sounds of people getting up and about starting ringing through the camp by 5am.
By 9am everyone's ready to go. The sky was cloudy and the wind was cool. We head to the trailhead on our way up to Half Dome. The hike is 16.4 miles (roundtrip), ascending 4,796 vertical feet. We're already an hour behind our intended start time as we make a breakfast of Doritos, Nutri-grain bars and Gatorade. We started the trail, guessing at which peak the trail lead to. In late May, the rivers running through Yosemite are mostly in full swing, carrying down the winter melt. We passed Vernal Falls, and the higher up Nevada Falls, both roaring with icy white water.
Eventually the rocky trail smoothed out into a softer forest trail, and we covered most of the distance shaded by trees. We spotted a wolf, a deer, and numerous rodents and birds. Dark blue Steller's jays would occasionally appear and fly ahead of us. Toward the top, the trees thinned out as we approached the bald rock that was the summit. Two heavy cables were strung to assist hikers up the 45° incline up the final few hundred feet to the top.
By 16:00 we had all made it to the top, although it seemed as if everyone else had already left. The sun was peeking through some of the clouds as we spent a few minutes savouring the victory and the view at the total elevation of 8,836 ft. When we started heading down, it was clear the steep steps up to the summit had taken their toll. Our pace was slow despite the downward incline. Two of us had gone somewhat faster, and we stopped by Nevada falls and rested, watching the sun drift slowly towards the mountains, casting the rocks rising above the valley in an orange glow.
We hurried along after that, since no one had expected the hike to take so long - none of us carried a flashlight and the light was dimming fast. By 21:00 we were mostly traveling by the starlight that trickled in through the trees, and had split up into two pairs since we were going down at different paces. Behind us came a few lights swinging through the darkness, we waited as a large group of Hispanic hikers met up with us. They had spotted two people headed down the stock trail (as in, a trail for horses). I had hoped it wasn't the other two members of our group - they must have been further behind since the flashlights were actually pretty close behind us. We took a shot down the horse trail for a few minutes, but didn't find anyone. If anyone had actually headed down there they were going at a fast pace in the dark.
We returned to the fork, where two guys from the other hiking group volunteered to search the stock trail while the rest of us headed on to the bridge at Vernal falls. We waited in the dark, staring up into a deep blue sky specked with stars. Someone in the other group said a prayer in Spanish for our missing friends. The two guys returned in half an hour, they hadn't seen anyone on the trail. We continued slowly down the trail. By the time we got to the bottom and got a ride back to Curry Village, it was already 22:30.
If the lesson learned wasn't 'don't overestimate your group's pace', then it's 'park rangers will not come help you'. Throughout the evening I called the park ranger dispatch a number of times. It seemed her job was to pacify callers. We spent the next few hours trying to hike up the trails with a dying flashlight in hopes of finding them. We tried calling out, but any voices were simply drowned out by the river. Finally, the dispatch agreed to lend me a few fully charged flashlight, but the park rangers didn't come to deliver them till 01:30, by which time I was already exhausted. After assurances that they wouldn't suffer hypothermia in the wind, we resigned to parking by the trailhead and sleeping until morning broke.
We went back to Curry Village to call the park ranger at 5am before heading back up the trails. After searching the two mile loop from the trailhead to the end of the stock trail, we managed to find the two of them sitting satisfied in the Food Pavilion, after having survived the night in the wilderness, making it down sometime during the morning, and polishing off a buffet breakfast. After grabbing a Red Bull for the road, we made our way home.
The weekend after that I hiked Mt. Whitney, the highest peak in the lower 48 states and Hawaii, but I'll leave that story for another day.
May 22, 2002
More of the same
There's a lot of times I sit down and wonder, where have the past two weeks of my life gone? Sure most of it was at work, and much of it seemed pretty unproductive. Like the times you take a week to solve a problem, since you need the first four and a half days to get up to speed with things. I think that's why I'm in engineering, not theoretical physics - it's really nice to have something tangible done at the end of the day (even though software is often considered an intangible).
What else have I managed to do lately? The usual of dinners, movies, and going hiking with friends. It's amazing when I think about it, a year ago I was leaving Toronto for Delhi: I can never quite grasp the immense range of conditions that humans live in. I think given another year, that third world itch will really start itching. I've started reading through my Morocco Lonely Planet guide. I'm also looking to read Wolfram's A New Kind of Science. Also tried helping out with Santee Bible Club, a monthly day camp for lower class kids in South San Jose. Interesting as it was, I don't think I'm particularly adept at dealing with kids.
There's a lot of times I sit down and wonder, where have the past two weeks of my life gone? Sure most of it was at work, and much of it seemed pretty unproductive. Like the times you take a week to solve a problem, since you need the first four and a half days to get up to speed with things. I think that's why I'm in engineering, not theoretical physics - it's really nice to have something tangible done at the end of the day (even though software is often considered an intangible).
What else have I managed to do lately? The usual of dinners, movies, and going hiking with friends. It's amazing when I think about it, a year ago I was leaving Toronto for Delhi: I can never quite grasp the immense range of conditions that humans live in. I think given another year, that third world itch will really start itching. I've started reading through my Morocco Lonely Planet guide. I'm also looking to read Wolfram's A New Kind of Science. Also tried helping out with Santee Bible Club, a monthly day camp for lower class kids in South San Jose. Interesting as it was, I don't think I'm particularly adept at dealing with kids.
May 6, 2002
Off the beaten path
This past week my manager, an ex-gambling junkie, passed me a book, Poker Nation, by Andy Bellin. As the title suggests, it's a book about poker - the game, the culture, the lifestyle. It goes over the play - nicknames for hands (like the 'San Francisco busboy' - a Queen and 3 (a queen with a trey, get it?)), the strategies, the math and the psychology. But it also goes through the subculture. The life of professional gamblers, mathematical idiot savants, are romanticised as much as they are revealed - gambling addicts unable to maintain real lives (or relationships). The excitement of the game is actually reduced to mechanical boredom when the game becomes a profession. For anyone who's ever loved Rounders or even God of Gamblers, this book is a great read.
It's also the first book that I've read just for fun since I've gotten here. Maybe that suggests I'm pretty much all settled in. I've gotten to exploring the local community. About fifteen minutes drive away from where I live is Alviso, called a town but really just a languishing neighborhood drifting into oblivion. Alviso was once home to a lively marina and cannery. As the south bay filled up with silt over the past half century, both have closed down, leaving an abandonned marina, with empty piers reaching out into the rushes, and large saltwater marshes. Levees containing the salt ponds are still useable as biking (or in my case, hiking) trails. The area is now a protected habitat, the cannery has now become the San Francisco Bay Bird Observatory. Starting in the marina, I hiked about thre miles north. There, in the bay, was the town of Drawbridge.
Built at the start of the twentieth century, it's fallen into disuse, and now is closed to access. However, I made my way there along the Amtrak railway. Okay, so maybe I'm reliving the Stand By Me days I never had. And maybe a ghost town isn't half as exciting as a dead body, but the dive bombing seagulls and sandpipers sure were.
Ah, I can still hear their shrill cries as they swooped in from behind... (play Ride of the Valkyries) seeing their shadows flit across the ground as they dropped their payloads... watching with one close call after another, their ordinance crashing into the waves not five feet away with the signature ploink.
The horror... the horror...
This past week my manager, an ex-gambling junkie, passed me a book, Poker Nation, by Andy Bellin. As the title suggests, it's a book about poker - the game, the culture, the lifestyle. It goes over the play - nicknames for hands (like the 'San Francisco busboy' - a Queen and 3 (a queen with a trey, get it?)), the strategies, the math and the psychology. But it also goes through the subculture. The life of professional gamblers, mathematical idiot savants, are romanticised as much as they are revealed - gambling addicts unable to maintain real lives (or relationships). The excitement of the game is actually reduced to mechanical boredom when the game becomes a profession. For anyone who's ever loved Rounders or even God of Gamblers, this book is a great read.
It's also the first book that I've read just for fun since I've gotten here. Maybe that suggests I'm pretty much all settled in. I've gotten to exploring the local community. About fifteen minutes drive away from where I live is Alviso, called a town but really just a languishing neighborhood drifting into oblivion. Alviso was once home to a lively marina and cannery. As the south bay filled up with silt over the past half century, both have closed down, leaving an abandonned marina, with empty piers reaching out into the rushes, and large saltwater marshes. Levees containing the salt ponds are still useable as biking (or in my case, hiking) trails. The area is now a protected habitat, the cannery has now become the San Francisco Bay Bird Observatory. Starting in the marina, I hiked about thre miles north. There, in the bay, was the town of Drawbridge.
Built at the start of the twentieth century, it's fallen into disuse, and now is closed to access. However, I made my way there along the Amtrak railway. Okay, so maybe I'm reliving the Stand By Me days I never had. And maybe a ghost town isn't half as exciting as a dead body, but the dive bombing seagulls and sandpipers sure were.
Ah, I can still hear their shrill cries as they swooped in from behind... (play Ride of the Valkyries) seeing their shadows flit across the ground as they dropped their payloads... watching with one close call after another, their ordinance crashing into the waves not five feet away with the signature ploink.
The horror... the horror...
Apr 27, 2002
It's Saturday again?
My housemate's been back for a week after an almost three month hiatus in New Zealand and Toronto. I had come to enjoy having an apartment to myself, but the sheer freedom from any form of social obligation meant my schedule's been slipping back towards that university lifestyle. You know the one, where all life's necessary functions except for sleep transpired under the light of the moon or flourescent tubes; daylight hours existed for the purpose of exams and handing in papers. In this past week I think I've seen my housemate twice. Typically, he's off to work before I awake, and I get home after his lights go out. I've spent too many hours at work this week. And in the midst of it all there just wasn't the time to blog about the past weekend, and I already find it's Satuday again. And since I haven't had time to mention it, here's the sad news of the week. Not only do we get bombed by Americans, but we pick up their eating habits as well.
Last Saturday was actually quite interesting. Billy and I caught a full-house screening of Spirited Away (Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi) (2001) at the San Francisco Film Festival. This is the lastest film by Hayao Miyazaki, released last summer in Japan, December in Hong Kong, and supposedly September 20th, 2002 in North America. Like many other Miyazaki features, this one was made "For the people who used to be 10 years old, and the people who are going to be 10 years old". I've realized I'm slowly losing the ability to see things as a kid. I think kids would love this movie, but I wonder whether they really would, or whether they'd find parts of it slow moving (much like Totoro). As an adult I'd say it's the best Miyazaki film so far. It's got the typical themes that recur in his films - uncertain child heroines, fantastic creatures, tradition, magic, humour, victory and love. The fairy-tale plot follows Chihiro as her family curiously wanders into an abandoned Japanese theme park, where they are sucked into a magical world in medieval Japan. Chihiro struggles to find her own identity and free the friends she meets and her own parents from the witch Yu-baba which runs the alternate reality. Like most films for kids, this movie comes off as heartwarming and uplifting. Like most other Miyazaki films, it manages to do it honestly, without resorting to cheezy cliches. This one should be coming into wide release from Disney by the fall. Watch it. 4.5/5
We spent Saturday night wandering North Beach for something interesting to do. Having passed by all the 'hip' looking spots, at the point of calling it a night, we go back to the live music blaring from a small bar, simply named 'Saloon'. We weren't quite sure whether the '1232' of the address was part of the name or not, but it was an interesting spot in itself. The bar itself was old and run down. It could have been out of a western if it weren't for the fact that we're too far west for cowboys. The clientele were in their early thirties through to what must have been their 70s. All caucasian, and mostly obese. A slice of the American crowd you'd least to expect a couple of Chinese kids to hang in. Up on stage, a guy I've never heard of named Daniel Castro was wailing out some sad song about walking down some road, but he was mighty lively about it. The whole of the crowded little bar was on their feet grooving to the beat of the blues guitar. This kinda thing doesn't quite have the right sound on CD, it's not stuff I'd normally go buy, but one of these days I gotta get myself back in a blues bar.
How does Yu-ling manage to post just about every day? Kids and co-op these days. Oh, wait, I remember, back in the day when my mailbox handled 400 emails a day while I my catatonic brain fermented in the basement of some unnamed bank tower. Speaking of Yuling, his posts on sex and the arts are quite interesting. Just last week the Supreme Court made a relevent ruling.
On the topic of sex and film, the theme this week is love stories, although there are quite a few variations on that theme.
Boys Don't Cry (1999)
After making quite a buzz in many gay & lesbian film fests, this one netted a Best Actress Oscar for Hilary Swank. As an independent film, you get the gritty low cost cinematography often seen in indies. Based on a true story, the story follows an underacheiving teen girl (who wants to be a boy) wandering stupidly through white trash America looking for love. Although the plot only gets about as complicated as it could when you throw tomboys, pretty girls, and drunk jealous boyfriends together, the ending's a real doozy.
3.5/5
The Crying Game (1992)
I'm a decade late in watching this one, the buzz has long died and everyone knows the 'twist' in this one already. It certainly would have been more of a bomb if you weren't expecting it coming, but even then it's still a great movie. Unlike the previous movie, the visuals are lush, vivid and intentional. The plot (which I actually knew nothing about) actually follows a group of the IRA as they kidnap a British soldier from a local fair and hold him. One of the IRA volunteers, Fergus, builds up a friendship with the soldier, Jody while guarding him, yet In the end, their demands are not met and Fergus leads Jody off to his execution. That's actually just the introduction as Fergus then tries to put his IRA past behind him and somehow find redemption in searching out Jody's girlfriend in London. It does a great job of portraying love and sexuality - how they're both intertwined and yet two vastly different things. Worth watching but not everyone will like it.
4/5
Like Water for Chocolate (1992)
Despite having raked in tonnes of awards in its home country of Mexico, this film was highly dissappointing, especially if you're expecting some sort of drama. Writer Lauren Esquivel (who also wrote the novel, which I haven't read, and don't plan to read) does herself a great disservice, falling into the stereotype of an overly romantic feminist woman writer). Tita is born, the youngest daughter in a 19th century Mexican family, must live by her family's tradition and not marry, but fulfill her role and care for her mother until she passes. All is well, with Tita growing up in the kitchen, until a charming but stupid boy comes along, and the desire for love and freedom draws out the rest of the story. The only non-standard fare are the fantastic elements here and there - the magical effects of Tita's cooking and her visions. Although the characters do show a hint of humanity - living torn between the desire for freedom and the bounds of propriety and tradition, making mistakes, growing up - they're still mostly cliche. The cooking scenes don't come across as particularly sensual (I don't think Mexican food ever truly attains that). And the passionately romantic love scenes end up coming across as comedic and gauche. Maybe you'll like it if you're looking for a romantic chick flick, but I think this is even too much for that.
1.5/5
Angels and Insects (1995)
I had heard of this one before, something to do with Victorian era prurient interests. But Sinyee rented it and she had no idea what it was about. A shipwrecked naturalist returns penniless to his aristocratic benefactor, a reverend struggling between God and science at the time when Darwin was novel. Despite the biologist's meagre upbringing, his benefactor accepts him into the family, as he marries the much desired, beautiful older daughter and assists the father in his entomological research - much to the dismay of the antagonistic brother. The plot twists from there, leaving the viewer is trying to decipher whether something is indeed going on beneath the surface of the house. It actually reminds me of the recent bruhaha with the RC church. This film starts off painfully slow, the well enunciated Victorian speech and formality drags the entire first half; only in the end do you realize how masterfully intentional the whole pace has been set.
4/5
And speaking of watching what you watch, you may or may not be interested in these, since they all have scenes with full nudity (uh oh!).
My housemate's been back for a week after an almost three month hiatus in New Zealand and Toronto. I had come to enjoy having an apartment to myself, but the sheer freedom from any form of social obligation meant my schedule's been slipping back towards that university lifestyle. You know the one, where all life's necessary functions except for sleep transpired under the light of the moon or flourescent tubes; daylight hours existed for the purpose of exams and handing in papers. In this past week I think I've seen my housemate twice. Typically, he's off to work before I awake, and I get home after his lights go out. I've spent too many hours at work this week. And in the midst of it all there just wasn't the time to blog about the past weekend, and I already find it's Satuday again. And since I haven't had time to mention it, here's the sad news of the week. Not only do we get bombed by Americans, but we pick up their eating habits as well.
Last Saturday was actually quite interesting. Billy and I caught a full-house screening of Spirited Away (Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi) (2001) at the San Francisco Film Festival. This is the lastest film by Hayao Miyazaki, released last summer in Japan, December in Hong Kong, and supposedly September 20th, 2002 in North America. Like many other Miyazaki features, this one was made "For the people who used to be 10 years old, and the people who are going to be 10 years old". I've realized I'm slowly losing the ability to see things as a kid. I think kids would love this movie, but I wonder whether they really would, or whether they'd find parts of it slow moving (much like Totoro). As an adult I'd say it's the best Miyazaki film so far. It's got the typical themes that recur in his films - uncertain child heroines, fantastic creatures, tradition, magic, humour, victory and love. The fairy-tale plot follows Chihiro as her family curiously wanders into an abandoned Japanese theme park, where they are sucked into a magical world in medieval Japan. Chihiro struggles to find her own identity and free the friends she meets and her own parents from the witch Yu-baba which runs the alternate reality. Like most films for kids, this movie comes off as heartwarming and uplifting. Like most other Miyazaki films, it manages to do it honestly, without resorting to cheezy cliches. This one should be coming into wide release from Disney by the fall. Watch it. 4.5/5
We spent Saturday night wandering North Beach for something interesting to do. Having passed by all the 'hip' looking spots, at the point of calling it a night, we go back to the live music blaring from a small bar, simply named 'Saloon'. We weren't quite sure whether the '1232' of the address was part of the name or not, but it was an interesting spot in itself. The bar itself was old and run down. It could have been out of a western if it weren't for the fact that we're too far west for cowboys. The clientele were in their early thirties through to what must have been their 70s. All caucasian, and mostly obese. A slice of the American crowd you'd least to expect a couple of Chinese kids to hang in. Up on stage, a guy I've never heard of named Daniel Castro was wailing out some sad song about walking down some road, but he was mighty lively about it. The whole of the crowded little bar was on their feet grooving to the beat of the blues guitar. This kinda thing doesn't quite have the right sound on CD, it's not stuff I'd normally go buy, but one of these days I gotta get myself back in a blues bar.
How does Yu-ling manage to post just about every day? Kids and co-op these days. Oh, wait, I remember, back in the day when my mailbox handled 400 emails a day while I my catatonic brain fermented in the basement of some unnamed bank tower. Speaking of Yuling, his posts on sex and the arts are quite interesting. Just last week the Supreme Court made a relevent ruling.
On the topic of sex and film, the theme this week is love stories, although there are quite a few variations on that theme.
Boys Don't Cry (1999)
After making quite a buzz in many gay & lesbian film fests, this one netted a Best Actress Oscar for Hilary Swank. As an independent film, you get the gritty low cost cinematography often seen in indies. Based on a true story, the story follows an underacheiving teen girl (who wants to be a boy) wandering stupidly through white trash America looking for love. Although the plot only gets about as complicated as it could when you throw tomboys, pretty girls, and drunk jealous boyfriends together, the ending's a real doozy.
3.5/5
The Crying Game (1992)
I'm a decade late in watching this one, the buzz has long died and everyone knows the 'twist' in this one already. It certainly would have been more of a bomb if you weren't expecting it coming, but even then it's still a great movie. Unlike the previous movie, the visuals are lush, vivid and intentional. The plot (which I actually knew nothing about) actually follows a group of the IRA as they kidnap a British soldier from a local fair and hold him. One of the IRA volunteers, Fergus, builds up a friendship with the soldier, Jody while guarding him, yet In the end, their demands are not met and Fergus leads Jody off to his execution. That's actually just the introduction as Fergus then tries to put his IRA past behind him and somehow find redemption in searching out Jody's girlfriend in London. It does a great job of portraying love and sexuality - how they're both intertwined and yet two vastly different things. Worth watching but not everyone will like it.
4/5
Like Water for Chocolate (1992)
Despite having raked in tonnes of awards in its home country of Mexico, this film was highly dissappointing, especially if you're expecting some sort of drama. Writer Lauren Esquivel (who also wrote the novel, which I haven't read, and don't plan to read) does herself a great disservice, falling into the stereotype of an overly romantic feminist woman writer). Tita is born, the youngest daughter in a 19th century Mexican family, must live by her family's tradition and not marry, but fulfill her role and care for her mother until she passes. All is well, with Tita growing up in the kitchen, until a charming but stupid boy comes along, and the desire for love and freedom draws out the rest of the story. The only non-standard fare are the fantastic elements here and there - the magical effects of Tita's cooking and her visions. Although the characters do show a hint of humanity - living torn between the desire for freedom and the bounds of propriety and tradition, making mistakes, growing up - they're still mostly cliche. The cooking scenes don't come across as particularly sensual (I don't think Mexican food ever truly attains that). And the passionately romantic love scenes end up coming across as comedic and gauche. Maybe you'll like it if you're looking for a romantic chick flick, but I think this is even too much for that.
1.5/5
Angels and Insects (1995)
I had heard of this one before, something to do with Victorian era prurient interests. But Sinyee rented it and she had no idea what it was about. A shipwrecked naturalist returns penniless to his aristocratic benefactor, a reverend struggling between God and science at the time when Darwin was novel. Despite the biologist's meagre upbringing, his benefactor accepts him into the family, as he marries the much desired, beautiful older daughter and assists the father in his entomological research - much to the dismay of the antagonistic brother. The plot twists from there, leaving the viewer is trying to decipher whether something is indeed going on beneath the surface of the house. It actually reminds me of the recent bruhaha with the RC church. This film starts off painfully slow, the well enunciated Victorian speech and formality drags the entire first half; only in the end do you realize how masterfully intentional the whole pace has been set.
4/5
And speaking of watching what you watch, you may or may not be interested in these, since they all have scenes with full nudity (uh oh!).
Apr 17, 2002
"Christian" music?
There's a Christian radio station in San Francisco. I can barely get reception when driving around in SJ, but everyone can get it over the miracle of streaming audio. However, listening to it for a few hours hasn't changed my opinion that commercial Christian music generally sucks. Most of it sounds like a rehash of common pop music styles.
Of course my current favourite bands still happen to be Christian, check U2 and TVB. After all, isn't music an expression of being human? And isn't part of being human searching for that Relationship?
Oh, and Yuling, you've watched Moulin Rouge far too many times.
There's a Christian radio station in San Francisco. I can barely get reception when driving around in SJ, but everyone can get it over the miracle of streaming audio. However, listening to it for a few hours hasn't changed my opinion that commercial Christian music generally sucks. Most of it sounds like a rehash of common pop music styles.
Of course my current favourite bands still happen to be Christian, check U2 and TVB. After all, isn't music an expression of being human? And isn't part of being human searching for that Relationship?
Oh, and Yuling, you've watched Moulin Rouge far too many times.
Apr 16, 2002
Touch the sky
Imagine yourself sitting on a hill; it's a large hill but not quite a mountain. You look in one direction as the hill drops off, far below you lies the city from where you came. You can't see anyone from this height, but you know there are hundreds of thousands of people below you going on about their daily business - working, shopping, having fun.
In the opposite direction are the mountains. You may be on a hill, but you are only on the foothills of a much larger range. There land in that direction is rugged. Buildings and roads are very sparse. In nature's reign there's a different sort of business, as hundreds of thousands of animals going on about their daily business - hunting, being hunted, or just basking in the sun.
On Saturday I hiked up Monument Peak. I was expecting to be able to drive up the hill, but it turned out to be a 3.5 mile, 2300 vertical foot hike. The top of the hill had a number of microwave and radio antennae and satellite dishes, but was otherwise deserted. Atop the peak, staring eastward into the Californian coastal mountain range, it's a different world from the suburban sprawl to the west. I'm reminded of Paul Tokunaga's comment about retreats of solitude, and the top of a hill is as good a place as any to spend some time alone.
Here's a 360° view from the peak. The axis of rotation wasn't quite vertical, hence the resulting image looks kinda wavy (imagine it wrapped around, you'll see how it looks like a ring at an angle). If anyone knows of a good piece of software for stitching panorama shots together, let me know!
I find Matt and lyds have had highly amusing blogs lately. Especially the 'discussion' (girl vs boy). Guys, denial's just the first stage.
As for wongz, I think the last line is "but this is for the extras... what? no tip?"
Imagine yourself sitting on a hill; it's a large hill but not quite a mountain. You look in one direction as the hill drops off, far below you lies the city from where you came. You can't see anyone from this height, but you know there are hundreds of thousands of people below you going on about their daily business - working, shopping, having fun.
In the opposite direction are the mountains. You may be on a hill, but you are only on the foothills of a much larger range. There land in that direction is rugged. Buildings and roads are very sparse. In nature's reign there's a different sort of business, as hundreds of thousands of animals going on about their daily business - hunting, being hunted, or just basking in the sun.
On Saturday I hiked up Monument Peak. I was expecting to be able to drive up the hill, but it turned out to be a 3.5 mile, 2300 vertical foot hike. The top of the hill had a number of microwave and radio antennae and satellite dishes, but was otherwise deserted. Atop the peak, staring eastward into the Californian coastal mountain range, it's a different world from the suburban sprawl to the west. I'm reminded of Paul Tokunaga's comment about retreats of solitude, and the top of a hill is as good a place as any to spend some time alone.
Here's a 360° view from the peak. The axis of rotation wasn't quite vertical, hence the resulting image looks kinda wavy (imagine it wrapped around, you'll see how it looks like a ring at an angle). If anyone knows of a good piece of software for stitching panorama shots together, let me know!
I find Matt and lyds have had highly amusing blogs lately. Especially the 'discussion' (girl vs boy). Guys, denial's just the first stage.
As for wongz, I think the last line is "but this is for the extras... what? no tip?"
Apr 10, 2002
Awww...
Conball's outdone herself. Cute kid, but she's got the expression of a sack of rice. I guess that's before she met Ronald.
Problem with California, is that I've never, ever had allergies this early in the year in Toronto. The itchy eyes and nose aren't too bad, but the constant fatigue is really getting to me. It doesn't help that I'm reading Inside COM. Though well written, it still isn't the most exciting read. Best line so far: "At Microsoft, we always feel we can improve on a standard". If this drowsiness keeps up, I'm gonna start saying "Yes to Drugs".
Conball's outdone herself. Cute kid, but she's got the expression of a sack of rice. I guess that's before she met Ronald.
Problem with California, is that I've never, ever had allergies this early in the year in Toronto. The itchy eyes and nose aren't too bad, but the constant fatigue is really getting to me. It doesn't help that I'm reading Inside COM. Though well written, it still isn't the most exciting read. Best line so far: "At Microsoft, we always feel we can improve on a standard". If this drowsiness keeps up, I'm gonna start saying "Yes to Drugs".
Apr 8, 2002
Boring
I had two opportunities to go hiking this weekend but neither panned out. Bummer. So instead I did some reading after attending a different church. I find that I have an automatic cynicism towards great big "white" churches, with a band on stage, centered on a grand piano, from where the charismatic pianist leads the congregation in soulful bouts of Maranatha music. Perhaps it's from too much exposure to church services on TV. Perhaps it's some ingrained childhood revulsion against PCS. Somehow I just find it incredibly challenging to put aside the cynicism and worship when I walk in and see the ever-so-slick production. But I'm glad I went out of my way today, since it lead to my reading this:
But in order that the characteristics of the divine may shine more brightly by the development of the truth, I will give you light to apprehend it, the obscurity caused by sin being wiped away. I will draw away the veil from the darkness of this hidden world. For a brief space conceive yourself to be transported to one of the loftiest peaks of some inaccessible mountain, thence gaze on the appearances of things lying below you, and with eyes turned in various directions look upon the eddies of the billowy world, while you yourself are removed from earthly contacts,-you will at once begin to feel compassion for the world, and with self-recollection and increasing gratitude to God, you will rejoice with all the greater joy that you have escaped it. Consider the roads blocked up by robbers, the seas beset with pirates, wars scattered all over the earth with the bloody horror of camps. The whole world is wet with mutual blood; and murder, which in the case of an individual is admitted to be a crime, is called a virtue when it is committed wholesale. Impunity is claimed for the wicked deeds, not on the plea that they are guiltless, but because the cruelty is perpetrated on a grand scale.
- Epistle from Cyprian to Donatus
I think we're often missing that compassion for the world.
Food...
I've been trying to get back to some regular fare after that gourmet binge back in February. It doesn't help that our company's replaced the free bad catered food with a cafeteria that's actually pretty damn good. Since the mass production style has been replaced with 'quality and freshness', it's actually faster to go for Jack in the Box (and cheaper with the $0.99 Jumbo Jack). I'm really hoping they'll improve the efficiency.
It was however, Xun's birthday, and for dinner we headed out to Le Papillon. Perhaps it was because I was tired, but it was less than memorable. I had to try to remember what I ordered - a bland lobster appetizer atop flat puff pastry and a tasteless duck entree. The dessert, a pear charlotte with caramel ice cream, was good but not outstanding (the ice cream was a nice touch). For $55 a person it was a lot less than other French restaurants around here, but then, I left those places impressed.
2/5
... and Flicks
Eat Drink Man Woman (1994)
I remember having seen bits of this way back when, but I don't recall having watched the whole thing. After watching Yi Yi, I hope Taiwanese directors are adding a lot of hyperbole to their everyday life, or else it seems like those Taiwanese are pretty screwed up. If episodes of Iron Chef were as succulent as this film, I'd probably be watching more TV. Coyly humorous, this film following the life of three sisters and their elderly father chef, illustrates a lot of the quirks Chinese culture that a lot of us westernized kids recognize and love/hate. Enjoyed this far more than anything else I've seen recently. Definitely watch this one.
5/5
Billy Elliot (2000)
I shirk away from most feel good, 'power of the human spirit', movies; I appreciate cheese on my toast, but I just don't have the taste for it on the screen. However, somehow I watched this one to the end without that gut-wrenching feeling. Looks very British (is it the film stock or the lighting that gives all these Brit films the same feel?), but it's got enough in it to be enchanting. Not raving mind you, but good to rent.
3/5
Run Lola Run (1998)
I've been meaning to watch this one for a while. You watch the same story - in which Lola attempts to raise enough money to save her bumbling boyfriend in twenty minutes - three times; in each run, minor differences in certain events lead to drastically different endings. Not too much in terms of characters, dialogue or even action, but the constant techno beat in the background makes watching the same movie thrice captivating enough.
3.5/5
The Hurricane (1999)
Denzel won an Oscar for this one, but I found it rather dull. One of those 'power of the human spirit biographies', that's supposed to make you feel good at the end without really learning anything.
2.5/5
A Beautiful Mind (2001)
Yet another one of those 'power of the human spirit biographies', yet this one was actually interesting... but perhaps I just have a personal predilection towards crazy mathematicians. I actually left with more of an idea of what life is for someone who is really crazy. Unfortunately, the movie does have it's major chunk of cheese (seriously, Jennifer Connelly's wife character was too perfect). With all the Oscar hype I guess my expectations were way too high, but I still left the theater happy for spending my $6.75.
3.5/5
Blade 2 (2002)
Yes, I usually avoid these ones, but I found myself watching it in a fit of boredome... and actually found myself entertained. There's more problems with plausibility in this one than your average Hollywood action movie, but the effects were good and the music thumped nicely. I have to say it was pretty good for a crappy action movie.
2.5/5
I had two opportunities to go hiking this weekend but neither panned out. Bummer. So instead I did some reading after attending a different church. I find that I have an automatic cynicism towards great big "white" churches, with a band on stage, centered on a grand piano, from where the charismatic pianist leads the congregation in soulful bouts of Maranatha music. Perhaps it's from too much exposure to church services on TV. Perhaps it's some ingrained childhood revulsion against PCS. Somehow I just find it incredibly challenging to put aside the cynicism and worship when I walk in and see the ever-so-slick production. But I'm glad I went out of my way today, since it lead to my reading this:
But in order that the characteristics of the divine may shine more brightly by the development of the truth, I will give you light to apprehend it, the obscurity caused by sin being wiped away. I will draw away the veil from the darkness of this hidden world. For a brief space conceive yourself to be transported to one of the loftiest peaks of some inaccessible mountain, thence gaze on the appearances of things lying below you, and with eyes turned in various directions look upon the eddies of the billowy world, while you yourself are removed from earthly contacts,-you will at once begin to feel compassion for the world, and with self-recollection and increasing gratitude to God, you will rejoice with all the greater joy that you have escaped it. Consider the roads blocked up by robbers, the seas beset with pirates, wars scattered all over the earth with the bloody horror of camps. The whole world is wet with mutual blood; and murder, which in the case of an individual is admitted to be a crime, is called a virtue when it is committed wholesale. Impunity is claimed for the wicked deeds, not on the plea that they are guiltless, but because the cruelty is perpetrated on a grand scale.
- Epistle from Cyprian to Donatus
I think we're often missing that compassion for the world.
Food...
I've been trying to get back to some regular fare after that gourmet binge back in February. It doesn't help that our company's replaced the free bad catered food with a cafeteria that's actually pretty damn good. Since the mass production style has been replaced with 'quality and freshness', it's actually faster to go for Jack in the Box (and cheaper with the $0.99 Jumbo Jack). I'm really hoping they'll improve the efficiency.
It was however, Xun's birthday, and for dinner we headed out to Le Papillon. Perhaps it was because I was tired, but it was less than memorable. I had to try to remember what I ordered - a bland lobster appetizer atop flat puff pastry and a tasteless duck entree. The dessert, a pear charlotte with caramel ice cream, was good but not outstanding (the ice cream was a nice touch). For $55 a person it was a lot less than other French restaurants around here, but then, I left those places impressed.
2/5
... and Flicks
Eat Drink Man Woman (1994)
I remember having seen bits of this way back when, but I don't recall having watched the whole thing. After watching Yi Yi, I hope Taiwanese directors are adding a lot of hyperbole to their everyday life, or else it seems like those Taiwanese are pretty screwed up. If episodes of Iron Chef were as succulent as this film, I'd probably be watching more TV. Coyly humorous, this film following the life of three sisters and their elderly father chef, illustrates a lot of the quirks Chinese culture that a lot of us westernized kids recognize and love/hate. Enjoyed this far more than anything else I've seen recently. Definitely watch this one.
5/5
Billy Elliot (2000)
I shirk away from most feel good, 'power of the human spirit', movies; I appreciate cheese on my toast, but I just don't have the taste for it on the screen. However, somehow I watched this one to the end without that gut-wrenching feeling. Looks very British (is it the film stock or the lighting that gives all these Brit films the same feel?), but it's got enough in it to be enchanting. Not raving mind you, but good to rent.
3/5
Run Lola Run (1998)
I've been meaning to watch this one for a while. You watch the same story - in which Lola attempts to raise enough money to save her bumbling boyfriend in twenty minutes - three times; in each run, minor differences in certain events lead to drastically different endings. Not too much in terms of characters, dialogue or even action, but the constant techno beat in the background makes watching the same movie thrice captivating enough.
3.5/5
The Hurricane (1999)
Denzel won an Oscar for this one, but I found it rather dull. One of those 'power of the human spirit biographies', that's supposed to make you feel good at the end without really learning anything.
2.5/5
A Beautiful Mind (2001)
Yet another one of those 'power of the human spirit biographies', yet this one was actually interesting... but perhaps I just have a personal predilection towards crazy mathematicians. I actually left with more of an idea of what life is for someone who is really crazy. Unfortunately, the movie does have it's major chunk of cheese (seriously, Jennifer Connelly's wife character was too perfect). With all the Oscar hype I guess my expectations were way too high, but I still left the theater happy for spending my $6.75.
3.5/5
Blade 2 (2002)
Yes, I usually avoid these ones, but I found myself watching it in a fit of boredome... and actually found myself entertained. There's more problems with plausibility in this one than your average Hollywood action movie, but the effects were good and the music thumped nicely. I have to say it was pretty good for a crappy action movie.
2.5/5
Mar 30, 2002
Passover
What troubles you now,
that you have all gone up on the
roofs,
O town full of commotion,
O city of tumult and revelry?
Your slain were not killed by the
sword,
nor did they die in battle.
Recent events in Israel have really made me think. There's so many things we take for granted here, like being able to go out at night and being able to expect to come home alive.
What troubles you now,
that you have all gone up on the
roofs,
O town full of commotion,
O city of tumult and revelry?
Your slain were not killed by the
sword,
nor did they die in battle.
Recent events in Israel have really made me think. There's so many things we take for granted here, like being able to go out at night and being able to expect to come home alive.
Mar 24, 2002
Letters to the editor
Well, emails and ICQ, not exactly letters, but many of them say:
"What's with the name of your webpage?"
According to Merriam-Webster:
Main Entry: con·cep·tion
2 a : the capacity, function, or process of forming or understanding ideas or abstractions or their symbols b : a general idea : CONCEPT c : a complex product of abstract or reflective thinking d : the sum of a person's ideas and beliefs concerning something
3 : the originating of something in the mind
Now it seems like some people got preconceptions, since the first definition is the unintended one:
1 a (1) : the process of becoming pregnant involving fertilization or implantation or both
Hope that clears up the misconception.
Oh Milla
Resident Evil (2002)
While significantly better than other video game inspired films such as Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat, this flick doesn't do much to improve the average viewer's impression of the genre. While I was tense during quite a few moments of the film, it was still riddled with cliches, flashy but sloppy effects, incredibly poor acting, and shallow characters. Following the cue from Tomb Raider, the producers obviously realised that hot chicks sell. Viewers are given a heaping serving of Milla, and we're thoroughly reminded that she's indeed a babe. Entertaining enough for a video game flick.
2.5/5
What happened while the grandmother was asleep...
Yi Yi (2000)
Edward Yang's 173 minute film is a test of viewers' endurance and patience. While excellent in many aspects, every aspect of the film strives to be slow and pensive. Charactes, while very well acted, were tepid and sterile, despite the understated suggestiveness of many of the plot elements. The plot, while sufficiently complex for an hour-and-a-half movie, dragged over the almost three hour length of the film. The artistic style reminded me of dramatic anime, like Only Yesterday. While the cinematography was beautifully framed, the long, slow, drawn out shots with almost no action or camera movement not only emphasized the reflective nature of many of the shots, but also dragged the pacing to a painful crawl. Characters openly waxed philosophical in monologues that were overly dramatic for a film whose pacing reflects the repetitive nature of real life. During the screen time, the viewer joins the life of a family dealing with life's share of ups and downs. There's a wedding, a birth, an accident, a funeral, a murder, and a number of romantic trysts, yet the film reflects the mother, Min-min's, problem with her own life: nothing really happens. The saving grace came in the form of Yang-yang, the innocent yet precocious boy character, representing the screen device for presenting classic ageless wisdom that only comes from the cuteness of children. A great film, but probably more enjoyable if you had something (or someone) else there to occupy your time during those long droughts between interesting patches.
3/5
Well, emails and ICQ, not exactly letters, but many of them say:
"What's with the name of your webpage?"
According to Merriam-Webster:
Main Entry: con·cep·tion
2 a : the capacity, function, or process of forming or understanding ideas or abstractions or their symbols b : a general idea : CONCEPT c : a complex product of abstract or reflective thinking d : the sum of a person's ideas and beliefs concerning something
3 : the originating of something in the mind
Now it seems like some people got preconceptions, since the first definition is the unintended one:
1 a (1) : the process of becoming pregnant involving fertilization or implantation or both
Hope that clears up the misconception.
Oh Milla
Resident Evil (2002)
While significantly better than other video game inspired films such as Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat, this flick doesn't do much to improve the average viewer's impression of the genre. While I was tense during quite a few moments of the film, it was still riddled with cliches, flashy but sloppy effects, incredibly poor acting, and shallow characters. Following the cue from Tomb Raider, the producers obviously realised that hot chicks sell. Viewers are given a heaping serving of Milla, and we're thoroughly reminded that she's indeed a babe. Entertaining enough for a video game flick.
2.5/5
What happened while the grandmother was asleep...
Yi Yi (2000)
Edward Yang's 173 minute film is a test of viewers' endurance and patience. While excellent in many aspects, every aspect of the film strives to be slow and pensive. Charactes, while very well acted, were tepid and sterile, despite the understated suggestiveness of many of the plot elements. The plot, while sufficiently complex for an hour-and-a-half movie, dragged over the almost three hour length of the film. The artistic style reminded me of dramatic anime, like Only Yesterday. While the cinematography was beautifully framed, the long, slow, drawn out shots with almost no action or camera movement not only emphasized the reflective nature of many of the shots, but also dragged the pacing to a painful crawl. Characters openly waxed philosophical in monologues that were overly dramatic for a film whose pacing reflects the repetitive nature of real life. During the screen time, the viewer joins the life of a family dealing with life's share of ups and downs. There's a wedding, a birth, an accident, a funeral, a murder, and a number of romantic trysts, yet the film reflects the mother, Min-min's, problem with her own life: nothing really happens. The saving grace came in the form of Yang-yang, the innocent yet precocious boy character, representing the screen device for presenting classic ageless wisdom that only comes from the cuteness of children. A great film, but probably more enjoyable if you had something (or someone) else there to occupy your time during those long droughts between interesting patches.
3/5
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