On my shelf there is a book I never open because carefully nestled on page 29 is a poem that reminds me that long ago there was only love.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
2012 was one sucktastic year. Mostly because I spent a good chunk of it laying foundations for stuff that will happen in 2013 and laying foundations is never fun. It's necessary but long and painful. With my 24th birthday already passed, I have started to think about what I want to accomplish while in my mid-twenties and the list is short, but attaining the goals in that short list requires a lot of stamina and patience. I do think though, that I've started off with a good day. I filmed a teaser for my short film last night, and quite frankly, it gave me a lot of confidence in my filmmaking abilities because here's a little secret I haven't shared with anyone - directing a big project sort of terrified me. So much stuff depending on my vision of a story is really stressful. Especially when your last fiction movie was called "Sisyphean" and although it was meant to be a drama, ended up a slightly ridiculous comedy. Well, there's also the fact that this isn't the minor leagues anymore. I'm walking on professional territory. My films will no longer be the subject to critique by a class of my peers who each have their own amateur idea of filmmaking. Instead, they will be subjected to critique by actual film critics who theoretically know their shit. Production is expected to be at a certain level, and vision is supposed to be groundbreaking in some way. Because, really, how will you make your mark otherwise?
It's scary. Scary in the way free-falling down an abyss Gandalf-style is scary for anyone but Gandalf. But then again, there is a certain thrill that comes with that fear and also hope that you remember to pull your parachute in time before you become a pancake on the side of the Balrog's home (which is entirely possible).
Yesterday I not only felt like a filmmaker again, but a director in my own right. I felt right at home and right in my element. I knew what I was doing, what I wanted, and how I wanted it. And I got it. It's refreshing to feel that wave of certainty amidst the chaos - both that which is generated by the filmmaking process and by trying to navigate life in my mid-twenties.
2013 definitely promises to be a better year. I hope it is for y'all too.
It's scary. Scary in the way free-falling down an abyss Gandalf-style is scary for anyone but Gandalf. But then again, there is a certain thrill that comes with that fear and also hope that you remember to pull your parachute in time before you become a pancake on the side of the Balrog's home (which is entirely possible).
Yesterday I not only felt like a filmmaker again, but a director in my own right. I felt right at home and right in my element. I knew what I was doing, what I wanted, and how I wanted it. And I got it. It's refreshing to feel that wave of certainty amidst the chaos - both that which is generated by the filmmaking process and by trying to navigate life in my mid-twenties.
2013 definitely promises to be a better year. I hope it is for y'all too.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Last week was my boss's birthday party. It was the same night as the Vassar Young Alum party in NYC (which I had already committed to go). I'm usually a little wary of hanging out with my bosses outside of work (especially since my bosses are so young) but he had graciously invited me to join and for the sake of cultivating a good working relationship with him, I agreed to go. I dressed nicely that day (my hair for once, cooperating in the heat) in a blue lace dress and dark cardigan - as the AP also came to the office to interview my friend and co-worker JS and he warned us beforehand that we might be in some of the b-roll shots. The usual fare of t-shirt and sandals would not fly. Not that I ever wear sandals, but that's mostly because I only own one pair and they're not that comfortable to go around in.
I was supposed to duck out of the office sometime around 6:15 and head up to Chelsea for the Vassar event then head back down to Flatbush Farm in Brooklyn at around 8:00 for my boss's thing. As it worked out, and as it usually works out, I ended up swamped with work and decided that I should just reverse it - go to my boss's thing first and then head up to Manhattan to attempt to look semi impressive around my college contemporaries. I figured it could provide a good exit strategy if I needed it. JS and I walked over to the party at around 7:00-ish as we had both been left to try to deal with our crazy workloads until late.
It wasn't a particularly memorable evening up until that point. The weather was ok, but not necessarily newsworthy. JS and I exchanged our usual grievances about work and life as we walked along the streets of Brooklyn. The humidity curled my hair a little more than I would have wanted it to.
The bar was nice - cozy and inviting with a bit of an old-school feel to it. It reminded me a little bit of The Beech Tree on Collegeview Ave in Poughkeepsie right across the street from the North Gate at Vassar. We went there a few times with J, who had cultivated a friendship with the barkeep, and it was always a good environment for a quiet drink or two. It was unfortunately also the site where my parents and my ex's parents went to have dinner together when they first met. I remember my ex being extremely uncomfortable that night.
I ordered a Brooklyn (bourbon, southern comfort, and bitters) to start it off. I was beginning to be in one of those moods when the intensely work-heavy week was starting to get to me and the prospect of facing what probably would be half of the hipster population in Williamsburg at the Vassar thing was troubling. Unfortunately the aptly-named Brooklyn cocktail wasn't as smooth as I would have liked it to be, which is why I downed it as fast as I could while I listened to some of my co-workers' stories. I followed the Brooklyn with a Pear Martini - an unusual choice as I usually can't really stomach most martinis (they're NOT WELL MADE okay?) but this one went down with unusual ease. JS left with one of our other co-workers at some point and I realized I was left with my boss and his friends from college.
It was also the point where I realized that heading up to Manhattan was just not happening.
Oh blerg.
I sat around there talking to people about who knows what for a while when I started feeling myself ease into that version of me that I kinda don't like. The version of me whose suaveness barely covers the thinly veiled arrogance that stems from my education as a liberal arts intellectual. Not that liberal arts intellectuals are douchebags or anything, but we can be. And that ugly side of me reared its ugly head out that night at the bar. When that happened, I decided it was time to leave.
I hobbled out of there in my high heels (which I have no recollection of switching into) and instantly called M in an effort to purge myself of my guilt about turning into intellectual douchebag E. She calmed me down somewhat. Enough to get on the subway and make it half a block from home.
It was then and there that the hole came back - the knawing, destructively empty black hole that exists somewhere in my upper digestive system. The same black hole that sent me to my knees when it was created - and sent me to my knees half a block away from my apartment alone in the streets of Brooklyn. I sat on a bench on the Prospect Park perimeter for half an hour as I teared up and did everything I could to not just sit there sobbing like a small child.
I was supposed to duck out of the office sometime around 6:15 and head up to Chelsea for the Vassar event then head back down to Flatbush Farm in Brooklyn at around 8:00 for my boss's thing. As it worked out, and as it usually works out, I ended up swamped with work and decided that I should just reverse it - go to my boss's thing first and then head up to Manhattan to attempt to look semi impressive around my college contemporaries. I figured it could provide a good exit strategy if I needed it. JS and I walked over to the party at around 7:00-ish as we had both been left to try to deal with our crazy workloads until late.
It wasn't a particularly memorable evening up until that point. The weather was ok, but not necessarily newsworthy. JS and I exchanged our usual grievances about work and life as we walked along the streets of Brooklyn. The humidity curled my hair a little more than I would have wanted it to.
The bar was nice - cozy and inviting with a bit of an old-school feel to it. It reminded me a little bit of The Beech Tree on Collegeview Ave in Poughkeepsie right across the street from the North Gate at Vassar. We went there a few times with J, who had cultivated a friendship with the barkeep, and it was always a good environment for a quiet drink or two. It was unfortunately also the site where my parents and my ex's parents went to have dinner together when they first met. I remember my ex being extremely uncomfortable that night.
I ordered a Brooklyn (bourbon, southern comfort, and bitters) to start it off. I was beginning to be in one of those moods when the intensely work-heavy week was starting to get to me and the prospect of facing what probably would be half of the hipster population in Williamsburg at the Vassar thing was troubling. Unfortunately the aptly-named Brooklyn cocktail wasn't as smooth as I would have liked it to be, which is why I downed it as fast as I could while I listened to some of my co-workers' stories. I followed the Brooklyn with a Pear Martini - an unusual choice as I usually can't really stomach most martinis (they're NOT WELL MADE okay?) but this one went down with unusual ease. JS left with one of our other co-workers at some point and I realized I was left with my boss and his friends from college.
It was also the point where I realized that heading up to Manhattan was just not happening.
Oh blerg.
I sat around there talking to people about who knows what for a while when I started feeling myself ease into that version of me that I kinda don't like. The version of me whose suaveness barely covers the thinly veiled arrogance that stems from my education as a liberal arts intellectual. Not that liberal arts intellectuals are douchebags or anything, but we can be. And that ugly side of me reared its ugly head out that night at the bar. When that happened, I decided it was time to leave.
I hobbled out of there in my high heels (which I have no recollection of switching into) and instantly called M in an effort to purge myself of my guilt about turning into intellectual douchebag E. She calmed me down somewhat. Enough to get on the subway and make it half a block from home.
It was then and there that the hole came back - the knawing, destructively empty black hole that exists somewhere in my upper digestive system. The same black hole that sent me to my knees when it was created - and sent me to my knees half a block away from my apartment alone in the streets of Brooklyn. I sat on a bench on the Prospect Park perimeter for half an hour as I teared up and did everything I could to not just sit there sobbing like a small child.
Friday, August 31, 2012
So I have officially made it back to Amsterdam for an extended vacation period (19 days is not your standard vacation). Seeing as I arrived only about 36 hours ago, the plan is still to kind of get through my jet lag at the moment...to quiet my mind and think about life for a bit. I have plans to relax on the Museumplein grass for that on Monday or Tuesday. Maybe I will just walk all the way up to the Dam and rediscover my old haunts along the way. Pick up a cup of coffee in Kaldi in Jordaan....For me, Amsterdam has always been about the simple things. About walking around and stumbling across these little wonderful treasures. About reminding myself that life is not complicated and is in no need for complications.
For now, that sounds quie perfect.
For now, that sounds quie perfect.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
So this morning I woke up in a pretty good mood so I made myself a pretty delicious bowl of scrambled eggs with vegetables and feta cheese with mediterranean herbs. I documented it with my new Canon t2i as an exercise in close-up and food photography. So here it is!
You will need:
1 tomato, diced.
1/6 of a Yellow onion, chopped.
1/4 of a green pepper, chopped.
1/3 of a box of mushrooms, cut into thick cubes.
a handful of baby spinach
about a tablespoon of crumbled feta with mediterranean herbs
Sautee the onions in olive oil. Add peppers. Sautee. Add mushrooms. Sautee. Add tomatoes. Sautee. Add spinach. Sautee. Take off from heat into bowl.
Add a litte more olive oil on the pan. Crack two eggs. Let them cook until the whites begin to crisp on the outside. Scramble. Add vegetables. Scramble some more. Add feta. Cook until feta begins to melt. Remove from pan. Eat!
So a few weeks ago, NW from Wei Ningqi Does China invited me to eat at this amazing restaurant in Flushing, Queens called Fu Run, but I was unable to make it due to a last minute conflict. But NW reported back that the restaurant was amazing, and the lamb was incredible so I rounded up my friend JS and he rounded up his friend from Serious Eats and we all trekked up to Flushing yesterday afternoon for some authentic Chinese food.
Our first stop was this little wonton place next to Fu Run. JS and Max both split an order of pork wontons and decided they were okay but not nothing too special. We then ducked into Fu Run and ordered Eggplant in Garlic Sauce, Muslim Lamb Ribs, and Tiger Vegetables. The Muslim Lamb Ribs were nothing short of spectacular. I'm very particular about lamb since I don't eat it that often and when I do, I insist that it be tender. The meat on these just came right off the bone. It was juicy, and tender, and had a little crunch with the roasted fennel on top. The Eggplant in Garlic Sauce was unfortunately sub-par. The eggplants were too bitter and too young and cut too thick. Good eggplant in garlic sauce is a staple in any authentic good Chinese restaurant, so it was kind of sad to see that this one didn't really make the cut in my book. The best eggplant in garlic sauce I've had outside of China is still at Mágico Oriental (the original location) in Quito - the one you order off the Chinese Menu and not their normal Spanish one. That one was fantastic - with each slice of eggplant cut to the perfect thickness and grilled to perfection. It wasn't dripping in oil, but was still plenty flavorful with the fish sauce and garlic sauce. Fu Run missing the mark on that dish was a little disconcerting regarding what other dishes might be like. But that particular concern set aside, those lamb ribs are worth the 1.25 hour subway ride up there alone.
Muslim Lamb Ribs
After finishing off the lamb ribs and a good amount of tea, we walked down a few blocks, and through a wig shop to Fang Gourmet Tea (135-25 Roosevelt Avenue), a little hidden treasure, for a tea sampling. This was admittedly one of my favorite parts of the day. For $3 a person, we sat and drank some really fantastic Alishan Oolong (picked out by JS whose knowledge of tea is amazingly impressive) while Therese (one of the teamasters at Fang Gourmet) and JS discussed the many varieties of tea found in Taiwan and China with Max and I occasionally piping in (Max to comment on something related to food, and I contributing with some bits and pieces of knowledge I picked up while traveling through mainland China including the two pounds of green Laoshan tea my host family sent me back home with). I learned a lot about tea just by listening to Therese and JS's discussions. One of the most interesting things I discovered is how truly intricate and complex the process of making tea really is and how every factor - from the kind of fertilizer, to the way the leaves are picked, to when they are picked, to whether it is roasted or not, to what climate and altitude it is grown at, to what pot is used to infuse it, to what kind of water is boiled to make it - affects the way a tea can taste at any given time. The way Therese and JS talked about tea reminded me very much of how many people approach the art of enology. As an amateur enologist myself, many of the terminology discussed by Therese and JS was uncannily familiar to me and I found it really really interesting that it could be applied to tea as well. The experience at Fang yesterday gave me a little more of an interesting perspective about how to approach drinking tea - how to pay more attention to the depths of the flavors in each cup and each infusion and how to recognize the aromas in each variety. Yesterday's Alishan Ju Shang tea was described as a buttery aroma, almost like a flaky pastry. While I certainly agreed that it had that buttery, flaky smell, it reminded me of something very specific that I couldn't remember at the moment. What that reminded me of exactly came to me this morning as I sautéed spinach for an egg scramble. The tea smelled like good, freshly made Spanakopita. The buttery flakiness is the first thing that hits you but it is followed by a very earthy, leafy, slightly bitter smell that is very spinach-like. It seems odd to think about drinking a tea that smells like Spanakopita, but I assure you it was really very nice. It was very smooth and the bitterness level was not that high (although it did fluctuate slightly with every infusion), which was lovely. However, while I enjoy a good Green Tea or Oolong, at the end of the day I'm always partial to a good Pu'er. I find pu'er's smooth but deep earthiness really calming. Also, that Alishan tea left me feeling REALLY wired.
So after an hour and a half of drinking tea with Therese at Fang tea, we left and ventured down to a food court named Savoy Fusion (4201 Main Street) for more eating. There, we bought an assortment of different morsels from different stalls and tried them all. My favorites were the Salt and Pepper Chicken from the Taiwanese food stall and the Lamb Dumplings stall. My least favorite was the tripe dish.
Salt and Pepper Chicken
Xiao Long Bao (Soupy Dumplings)
Filled with pork so I couldn't eat them, and reported to be too salty and not soupy enough by both Max and JS. They also mentioned the wrapper was too thick. They were so beautifully wrapped though and I couldn't resist taking a few pictures!
We also had some very good Cumin Lamb Pancake and Oil pancake which were more on the snacky side than really constituting any real meal. After hiding out at Savoy Fusion waiting for the rain to clear, we ventured back onto Main street to end our long day of eating our way through Flushing with some truly spectacular Egg Custard Pies and Iced Watermelon drink (incredibly refreshing in yesterday's muggy and humid hot weather). Unfortunately, much to my chagrin, I neglected to take note of the name of the bakery. I only know that it is right next to one of the Main Street subway stops and across from a ridiculously huge billboard advertising the need for American products to export to China).
So with our stomachs full, and a promise to never eat every again (ha!) we boarded the 7 back to Court Square and then transferred to the G with JS as Max headed into Manhattan for an ice-cream tasting party. Full of good food and an a slowly growing need for a nap, JS and I wondered how Max was going to fit ice cream into his system. JS hopped off the G at Williamsburg and I hung out on the G another thirty minutes all the way back to my apartment near prospect park. I caught the sunset over the statue of liberty as the G barreled over the Gowanus in between the Carroll street and 7th Ave stations (both Smith-9th and 4th Ave - 9th are above ground) which is one of my favorite sights in the city. I feel very lucky that I often catch it on my evening commute home, but yesterday's sunset was especially beautiful with the clouds gently breaking up after the afternoon storm scattering the sunset sunlight into rays ranging from deep cyans to flamingo pinks to deep oranges. The picture below hardly catches its breathtaking complexity, but an iphone 4 camera has its limits unfortunately.
The evening had its perfect ending when I caught Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back on cable and sat around the couch repeating the lines with the characters as I watched it with a couple of Blue Moons. Here are some pictures of one of my favorite scenes in film history. Honestly, it still gets me every time. Darth Vader is Luke's father? WHAT?!?!? NOOOOOOOO!!!!!! Seriously brilliant.
Also:
Leia: I love you.
Han: I know.
* Vader freezes Han in carbonite*
Absolute cinematic gold.
Vader: Luke, join me and we will rule the galaxy as father and son!
Vader: Search your feelings Luke, you know it to be true.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
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