As most people know, I have spent the past six or so months living in Los Angeles. And I've noticed several characteristics that make Angelenos unique among Americans, or at least among American cityfolk. They are surprising...
a) Strangers often get into involved conversations in regular settings, like waiting for the bus or renting a movie. The theory on this is that people spend so much time in their cars that they are glad for a little company. Here is a reenactment of a conversation I had at the Jolibee drive-thru, a local fast food joint with burgers and Filipino food.
"Hi, welcome to Jolibee."
"Hi, I'll have the hamburger meal."
"Do you want that with fries or rice?"
"I don't know--I've never been here before, what's better?"
"Oh, well then you should try our chicken! It's our specialty!"
After I agreed to the chicken meal, I drove up to the window to meet the girl and we talked about what parts of the neighborhood we lived in, and for how long we had lived there. Have you ever had a conversation with a drive-thru attendant before? I haven't.
b) Angelenos don't have normal internal thermostats. When I first moved here in February, it was pretty warm compared to Colorado. On one of the first spring days we had, I wore shorts to work, because it was comfortable. "Are you crazy?" said one of my coworkers. "It's freezing outside!" It was indeed cloudy outside, but it was also probably 70 degrees. It's kind of cute, the people who have lived here awhile think that grey weather means cold, I think the clouds play tricks on them. On cloudy days you will often see people wearing fleeces and Uggs, even though it's in the 60s or higher.
c) Finally, and most amazingly, Angelenos don't honk. When you're driving, an Angeleno will honk only if you're about to hit them, and if they honk in any other situation, "then they're probably not from here," says my friend Nadine, a Beverly Hills native. I expected traffic to be horrible and vicious when I got here, but it exists as sort of a beautiful symbiotic colony of microorganisms. There are situations everyday where drivers do stupid things, like suddenly swerve into the lane you're in with no turn signal, but people let it pass because they know the next day, they will be that driver. People almost always let you into the lane you need to get into.
The most incredible story I have of the traffic involves a three-way intersection--three streets intersecting in a star pattern. I still haven't quite figured out how these work. One day, I was sitting at one such intersection, in the right lane at a red light. Not quite realizing the logic, I decided to turn right, because that's what you can normally do in the right lane with a red. As soon as I turned right, I realized I was crossing in front of a two-or three lane street that had a green, and there was traffic rushing toward me at a dangerous speed. I panicked and made sort of a stop-start driving pattern across the street. Incredibly, the cars all slowed down to a stop to let me pass, and nobody honked. Have you ever seen such accomodation?
All the more reason to move to L.A.--the people, the weather, and the people.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Great Children's Stories
I think there's a tendency among adults to want to protect children, and not allow them near anything painful, especially if it's a movie or book that's too big for them. But kids are innately drawn to morbid things. I was about eleven when "Silence of the Lambs" came out, and in the years that followed I begged my mother to let me watch it (she finally let me watch it, and I think it gave her a few gray hairs).
But on the opposite end, kids get really frustrated when things are too simplistic and G-rated for them, as if a group of 45-year-old marketers is sitting in a room, trying to figure out how to get those kids to buy sneakers without actually interviewing any of them. Have you ever seen a kid make fun of a character in a math word problem or foreign language exercise? It's because those exercises are so outdated and written by people out of touch with kids.
Kids are drawn to morbid things, for what reason, I don't know, but they also have more awareness of the world than most adults think. They usually swear and know a lot about the birds and the bees before sex ed.
And they also experience real pain. They are the victims of injustice--parents who may take out their stress on them, parents who may push them into more activities than they want, teachers who consciously or unconsciously play favorites, and a schoolyard like the Wild West, where the friends you have one day may not be your friends the next.
That's why I was thinking about great children's stories. The thing these authors have in common is they trust kids with dangerous or painful scenarios, and they also empower their characters. Think about Maurice Sendak's "Where the Wild Things Are," where a small child sails across an ocean alone and is greeted by savage monsters two or three times bigger than he. And they're scary-looking! Think about "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown," the TV special, in which all Charlie Brown gets from adults in his trick-or-treat bag is rocks. It's funny, but it's also a feeling most kids can relate to at some point in their lives.
Finally, the reason I wrote this blog is because I just realized how great J.K. Rowling is. I reread "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" recently, and some of the chapters in that book are scary, even for adults. Harry Potter and his friends nearly get killed several times, and in the beginning of the book, you find out that Harry's parents were murdered when he was a baby. I didn't even know you could talk about death and murder in a children's story, but Rowling has proved that you can.
I think about a scene when Harry and his friends have to play a game of life-sized chess in order to stop an evil sorcerer, and they have to act as three of the pieces. They soon realize that when a piece gets taken, the opposing piece will knock it unconscious. Harry's friend Ron realizes he has to sacrifice himself, so he steps forward, and the white queen whacks him across the head with a stone arm, and he crumples to the ground, unconscious. It's a shocking image, a ten or eleven-year old boy lying unconscious on the ground.
And of course, Rowling greatly empowers her characters. Harry goes from being an unloved orphan, locked in a room under the stairs by his aunt and uncle, to a boy who saves the day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The tale is so hypnotizing that even adults have read the whole series.
But on the opposite end, kids get really frustrated when things are too simplistic and G-rated for them, as if a group of 45-year-old marketers is sitting in a room, trying to figure out how to get those kids to buy sneakers without actually interviewing any of them. Have you ever seen a kid make fun of a character in a math word problem or foreign language exercise? It's because those exercises are so outdated and written by people out of touch with kids.
Kids are drawn to morbid things, for what reason, I don't know, but they also have more awareness of the world than most adults think. They usually swear and know a lot about the birds and the bees before sex ed.
And they also experience real pain. They are the victims of injustice--parents who may take out their stress on them, parents who may push them into more activities than they want, teachers who consciously or unconsciously play favorites, and a schoolyard like the Wild West, where the friends you have one day may not be your friends the next.
That's why I was thinking about great children's stories. The thing these authors have in common is they trust kids with dangerous or painful scenarios, and they also empower their characters. Think about Maurice Sendak's "Where the Wild Things Are," where a small child sails across an ocean alone and is greeted by savage monsters two or three times bigger than he. And they're scary-looking! Think about "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown," the TV special, in which all Charlie Brown gets from adults in his trick-or-treat bag is rocks. It's funny, but it's also a feeling most kids can relate to at some point in their lives.
Finally, the reason I wrote this blog is because I just realized how great J.K. Rowling is. I reread "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" recently, and some of the chapters in that book are scary, even for adults. Harry Potter and his friends nearly get killed several times, and in the beginning of the book, you find out that Harry's parents were murdered when he was a baby. I didn't even know you could talk about death and murder in a children's story, but Rowling has proved that you can.
I think about a scene when Harry and his friends have to play a game of life-sized chess in order to stop an evil sorcerer, and they have to act as three of the pieces. They soon realize that when a piece gets taken, the opposing piece will knock it unconscious. Harry's friend Ron realizes he has to sacrifice himself, so he steps forward, and the white queen whacks him across the head with a stone arm, and he crumples to the ground, unconscious. It's a shocking image, a ten or eleven-year old boy lying unconscious on the ground.
And of course, Rowling greatly empowers her characters. Harry goes from being an unloved orphan, locked in a room under the stairs by his aunt and uncle, to a boy who saves the day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The tale is so hypnotizing that even adults have read the whole series.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Thoughts on Tibet
I'm in the middle of watching a documentary, "10 Questions for the Dalai Lama," and I'm having trouble stomaching it. I've heard that putting someone on a pedestal is the same as putting them in the gutter, and that's exactly what director Rick Ray does to the Tibetan people.
I cringe when filmmakers and photographers stick their cameras in the faces of lower-class people without getting permission to film them, especially if the people are tired or don't want to be filmed or are in the middle of doing something private. One cut has a man working on some prayer beads who looks up at the camera as if he doesn't want to be filmed, then returns to the beads. Would you want a foreign film crew randomly filming you if you were in the middle of lighting a candle for your dead grandmother in a Catholic church?
Ray never interviews any of the faces he portrays--it's just shot after shot of people who live a supposed "noble life" because they live in Tibetan exile. So the first part of the film is dedicated to the Dalai Lama's history and the people of Tibet, but not from a very informative standpoint, from a much idealized standpoint.
I finally got to the point in the movie where Rick Ray is interviewing the Dalai Lama, and his first question is, "Why do poor people seem so much happier than rich people?" I'm embarrassed to be a white person when I hear such questions. You only need to walk around a poorer area of the United States to know that poor people are not necessarily happier--in fact they might like to go on a cruise. I had to turn off the movie for a minute.
I don't believe that poor people are necessarily happier than rich people, and I don't believe it's something to aspire to. Simplicity is noble, sure, but also important are adequate health care and human rights. Anyone who believes poor people are nobler probably never spent much time out of the educated upper class.
My parents visited Tibet this summer, and they showed me a picture of a Tibetan farm family. "Guess how old this woman is," said my father. A woman with a tan, wrinkly face--I guessed fifty-five. I was sure my father would say she was seventy, and I'd be so impressed with some traditional diet and spirituality that was keeping her young and vital. "She's thirty-five years old," he said. The lack of a healthy variety in the Tibetan diet was contributing to her aging prematurely. Is this something to aspire to?
I cringe when filmmakers and photographers stick their cameras in the faces of lower-class people without getting permission to film them, especially if the people are tired or don't want to be filmed or are in the middle of doing something private. One cut has a man working on some prayer beads who looks up at the camera as if he doesn't want to be filmed, then returns to the beads. Would you want a foreign film crew randomly filming you if you were in the middle of lighting a candle for your dead grandmother in a Catholic church?
Ray never interviews any of the faces he portrays--it's just shot after shot of people who live a supposed "noble life" because they live in Tibetan exile. So the first part of the film is dedicated to the Dalai Lama's history and the people of Tibet, but not from a very informative standpoint, from a much idealized standpoint.
I finally got to the point in the movie where Rick Ray is interviewing the Dalai Lama, and his first question is, "Why do poor people seem so much happier than rich people?" I'm embarrassed to be a white person when I hear such questions. You only need to walk around a poorer area of the United States to know that poor people are not necessarily happier--in fact they might like to go on a cruise. I had to turn off the movie for a minute.
I don't believe that poor people are necessarily happier than rich people, and I don't believe it's something to aspire to. Simplicity is noble, sure, but also important are adequate health care and human rights. Anyone who believes poor people are nobler probably never spent much time out of the educated upper class.
My parents visited Tibet this summer, and they showed me a picture of a Tibetan farm family. "Guess how old this woman is," said my father. A woman with a tan, wrinkly face--I guessed fifty-five. I was sure my father would say she was seventy, and I'd be so impressed with some traditional diet and spirituality that was keeping her young and vital. "She's thirty-five years old," he said. The lack of a healthy variety in the Tibetan diet was contributing to her aging prematurely. Is this something to aspire to?
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Trophy wives v. CEOs
I recently began reading "Are Men Necessary?" by New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd. In the first couple of chapters, she muses whether 1970's feminism was all a bust, what with young women today returning to the fashion of taking their husbands' last names, and things like that.
The women of my age she interviews consider the feminism of their mothers' generation too harsh and humorless, and wonder if some of the feminine mystique has been lost by women trying to climb the corporate ladder and split the check.
I understand where they are coming from, as it is an argument I have had with my mother before. "What's wrong with being a housewife?" I would say. "Maybe women are meant to nurture their young and cultivate a nice household. Maybe working too hard is a strain on the family."
And indeed, women of my generation often saw our mothers stretched thin by working 50 hour work weeks and coming home to make dinner. How wonderful, then, to have the day to yourself to run errands, and perhaps a whole hour or two to plan a nice dinner?
I was raised as a feminist, but I first began noticing these anti-feminist tendencies in myself after college. I remember seeing a Colorado Rockies baseball player's wife on TV, and being so impressed with her perfect body and expensive blond hair and nails. I wanted to become that, to cultivate a perfect femininity in myself to attract a testosterone-laden, tall mate--for life. I loved, and still love, to study the art of being a woman--knowing what color purse is in this season, knowing what herbs support the reproductive system, having as many perfumes as possible available on my shelf to choose from. I think this gets at the crux of what women my age are seeking, we want to be softer women than our mothers were allowed to be. We want to be able to slow down, and iron linens, and have leisure time.
My mother recently attended law school, and she saw a major trend to a return to pre-feminism days among the students. She talked to many 24 and 25-year-olds whose plan was to get a law degree, get a husband, spend 20 years raising children, and then return to the work force with their two-decades-old law degree, and no work experience.
And this, she pointed out, was naive. Employers will much prefer to employ young people just out of law school, or people who have 20 years experience in the workforce.
Which brings me to my mother's point. Even if you do decide to take the homemaker route, you'd best have something to fall back on. Because you don't know if that lawyer or baseball player husband of yours will leave you once your boobs start sagging. Especially if you are attracting mates in your twenties primarily with your looks, and primarily with the intention of marrying rich.
1970's feminism was not a bust, then, but something we twenty-somethings had best pay attention to. As my mom pointed out, being a housewife was not romantic for everyone in the 1950's. Some of them were beaten, some of them had children that were beaten, and some had alcohol or drug-addicted husbands. And they couldn't go anywhere because they had no way of supporting themselves.
So we've got to realize that the big feminism wave has made homemaking a choice for us, and we'd better be damn well appreciative. We still might not earn as much as men, but we can get to college, we can get in the office, and with the right resourcefulness, we can get the corner office. And then we can brush it all aside and decide to become a soccer mom.
But if you do decide to become a soccer mom, have a backup plan, says my mom, and says me. Take computer classes, network, and read the paper. Work part-time. Improve your skill set.
Because you never know what the future holds.
The women of my age she interviews consider the feminism of their mothers' generation too harsh and humorless, and wonder if some of the feminine mystique has been lost by women trying to climb the corporate ladder and split the check.
I understand where they are coming from, as it is an argument I have had with my mother before. "What's wrong with being a housewife?" I would say. "Maybe women are meant to nurture their young and cultivate a nice household. Maybe working too hard is a strain on the family."
And indeed, women of my generation often saw our mothers stretched thin by working 50 hour work weeks and coming home to make dinner. How wonderful, then, to have the day to yourself to run errands, and perhaps a whole hour or two to plan a nice dinner?
I was raised as a feminist, but I first began noticing these anti-feminist tendencies in myself after college. I remember seeing a Colorado Rockies baseball player's wife on TV, and being so impressed with her perfect body and expensive blond hair and nails. I wanted to become that, to cultivate a perfect femininity in myself to attract a testosterone-laden, tall mate--for life. I loved, and still love, to study the art of being a woman--knowing what color purse is in this season, knowing what herbs support the reproductive system, having as many perfumes as possible available on my shelf to choose from. I think this gets at the crux of what women my age are seeking, we want to be softer women than our mothers were allowed to be. We want to be able to slow down, and iron linens, and have leisure time.
My mother recently attended law school, and she saw a major trend to a return to pre-feminism days among the students. She talked to many 24 and 25-year-olds whose plan was to get a law degree, get a husband, spend 20 years raising children, and then return to the work force with their two-decades-old law degree, and no work experience.
And this, she pointed out, was naive. Employers will much prefer to employ young people just out of law school, or people who have 20 years experience in the workforce.
Which brings me to my mother's point. Even if you do decide to take the homemaker route, you'd best have something to fall back on. Because you don't know if that lawyer or baseball player husband of yours will leave you once your boobs start sagging. Especially if you are attracting mates in your twenties primarily with your looks, and primarily with the intention of marrying rich.
1970's feminism was not a bust, then, but something we twenty-somethings had best pay attention to. As my mom pointed out, being a housewife was not romantic for everyone in the 1950's. Some of them were beaten, some of them had children that were beaten, and some had alcohol or drug-addicted husbands. And they couldn't go anywhere because they had no way of supporting themselves.
So we've got to realize that the big feminism wave has made homemaking a choice for us, and we'd better be damn well appreciative. We still might not earn as much as men, but we can get to college, we can get in the office, and with the right resourcefulness, we can get the corner office. And then we can brush it all aside and decide to become a soccer mom.
But if you do decide to become a soccer mom, have a backup plan, says my mom, and says me. Take computer classes, network, and read the paper. Work part-time. Improve your skill set.
Because you never know what the future holds.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Richest Women
I was watching an entertainment channel recently, and they did a special on the richest women in the entertainment industry. You would think they'd all be beautiful actresses, and indeed, there were such people as Jennifer Anniston, the Olsen twins, and Julia Roberts.
But do you know who the top three richest women are? Women who got by on their brains and business sense--not their looks. They are:
3: Martha Stewart
2: J.K. Rowling
1: Oprah Winfrey
These women still have money-making potential after 35. Yes!
But do you know who the top three richest women are? Women who got by on their brains and business sense--not their looks. They are:
3: Martha Stewart
2: J.K. Rowling
1: Oprah Winfrey
These women still have money-making potential after 35. Yes!
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Cloverfield
My boyfriend and I went to Redbox the other day, and because there was nothing else, we rented Cloverfield.
I was pleasantly surprised by the movie, which is another New-York-gets-destroyed-and-evacuated film.
The whole thing is filmed Blair Witch style, in a home movie camera. In the beginning, a young guy is assigned the task of filming a going away party for his friend, though he doesn't want to. He goes around filming people, focusing from time to time on a girl he thinks is hot, and all the peoples' conversations give the viewer just enough information to become sympathetic to the main characters. You almost forget catastrophe is coming, and then BOOM! an earthquake-like noise completely changes the tone of the film.
What was really cool was that the scenes cut in and out, mid-sentence, exactly as home movies are when you make them. And the character holding the video camera manages to maintain a funny, if annoying character throughout his filming, representing exactly that friend you have that doesn't understand when it's time to stop talking, because, for God's sake, people are dying.
The only thing that really pulls the movie back into the camp category is that some of the characters should have died right away instead of sustaining their unbelievable injuries. If you're impaled on a pole, my guess is you can't get up and walk around.
I was pleasantly surprised by the movie, which is another New-York-gets-destroyed-and-evacuated film.
The whole thing is filmed Blair Witch style, in a home movie camera. In the beginning, a young guy is assigned the task of filming a going away party for his friend, though he doesn't want to. He goes around filming people, focusing from time to time on a girl he thinks is hot, and all the peoples' conversations give the viewer just enough information to become sympathetic to the main characters. You almost forget catastrophe is coming, and then BOOM! an earthquake-like noise completely changes the tone of the film.
What was really cool was that the scenes cut in and out, mid-sentence, exactly as home movies are when you make them. And the character holding the video camera manages to maintain a funny, if annoying character throughout his filming, representing exactly that friend you have that doesn't understand when it's time to stop talking, because, for God's sake, people are dying.
The only thing that really pulls the movie back into the camp category is that some of the characters should have died right away instead of sustaining their unbelievable injuries. If you're impaled on a pole, my guess is you can't get up and walk around.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Before Sunrise
That is one of my favorite movies, because Julie Delpy's leading role is one of the most believable characters I've ever seen.
Most movies portray women as either virginal and aloof (Casablanca) or superhuman and independent (There's Something About Mary). In these movies, the men are the ones who make mistakes, who need help, and the women are angelic figures there to help out. The men are the characters who usually change.
In Before Sunrise, Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke play equally complex characters, who commit equal mistakes in their past relationships, who are drawn to each other equally.
Julie Delpy is beautiful, of course, but not in the sense of the male ideal. She wears flat shoes, little make-up, and a plain dress, something much more attainable for the average young woman.
She buys Ethan Hawke a drink (women never pay in the movies, but it often happens in life) because he is traveling and only 23 years old, so he doesn't have much money. This is a true homage to Gen X reality.
It is partly due to the portrayal of this character that I find Richard Linklater, the director, so respectable. He paid women their due in this movie, creating a character that was neither a sexpot nor pathetic, but somewhere in between.
Most movies portray women as either virginal and aloof (Casablanca) or superhuman and independent (There's Something About Mary). In these movies, the men are the ones who make mistakes, who need help, and the women are angelic figures there to help out. The men are the characters who usually change.
In Before Sunrise, Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke play equally complex characters, who commit equal mistakes in their past relationships, who are drawn to each other equally.
Julie Delpy is beautiful, of course, but not in the sense of the male ideal. She wears flat shoes, little make-up, and a plain dress, something much more attainable for the average young woman.
She buys Ethan Hawke a drink (women never pay in the movies, but it often happens in life) because he is traveling and only 23 years old, so he doesn't have much money. This is a true homage to Gen X reality.
It is partly due to the portrayal of this character that I find Richard Linklater, the director, so respectable. He paid women their due in this movie, creating a character that was neither a sexpot nor pathetic, but somewhere in between.
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