White Dress

I lack dexterity. My fingers are the most uncoordinated part of my body. I can grab things and write and type, but play piano? I learn how to extend my fingers and then I forget. Besides really sucking at the piano, I can't stitch or sew. One minute the needle and thread is on the line then next, it is an inch away. This presents quite a challenge.

During this obsessed clothing period, I have fallen in love with rigid, stiff, and white dresses. In a way, this dress will hopefully channel all that I find perfect and unattainable. It will hopefully be the dress of the most rigid and cold woman who people respect but are afraid of. Somehow, Estella managed to rub off on me. Plus I love the formality of the dress. But it is only an idea and a sketch as of right now! I am really quite fond of clothes that project a sense of power. My closet is full of suits and jackets. But how could anything so soft and innocent look so cold?

Because I myself lack any skills, I am very glad my mother has volunteered to help me. This may eventually come down to her sewing while I watch X-files but hopefully it won't!

I really hope to make something similar to these:


Taken from style.com Chanel Spring 2009 Couture.

Anyone know any good sewing sites?

Rouge and Chanel

Lately I have been obsessed with beauty. And because I am addicted to going online, I had to check out all the amazing blogs about beauty and clothes. Lately I wanted to look like Veronica Lake or Lauren Bacall. Or this:



I pulled it from Blogdorf Goodman and am now interested in Gilda. Rita Hayworth (who also has this sultry look) sang the song which was featured twice in the film. I hate it when I go through these beauty phases. Just a few hours ago I was trying on all my red lipstick from a bright "pepper" color to a more darker burgundy. So far I am digging the burgundy look. It makes me look like I just (perfectly) smeared my lips with blood.

Eva Green owns the vamp look. She has the perfect pale skin, black hair, and the loveliest eyes. I however am cursed with a California tan and highlights in my hair. I should not go outside so often now! At least not without protection for my legs. I am glad it is not summer yet. I can still wear pants and dark leggings. My legs are healing very quickly so maybe in two weeks time I will be able to wear this:

Hmm.

Oooze Gonna Save Us?

Two weeks ago, I went mountain climbing through overgrown vegetation. There were many ice plants and strange orchid varieties and raspberry plants. I thought the only thing I had to worry about was the thorns, but a week later, I developed a rash. Turns out there was poison oak in that area. So now, I am experiencing for the first time, the oozing, the pain, the itching, and the bumps. It looks a lot more disgusting than that time I almost lost my finger. And at least back then I did not want to scratch my legs off.
At the same time, I am suffering from particularly nasty weather. It's too hot for my legs yet it's so cold for my hands that they have started to crack. It's pretty red and bloody. I have blood on my hands, so to speak. AT least it doesn't ooze.

The Best Brain Fart

Last night, I had this amazing brain fart. It was truly a great event. I was on my bed, reading Mrs. Dalloway and thinking about a narcissistic girl when suddenly... I realized what I had to do to a story I had been developing for a few months. Fantastic! I was reminded of a war documentary and suddenly everything clicked. Going back to my last post, where I said being in the middle of a war zone has a much more alive feeling, I realized what really pushed the character. Ah love this moments!

Watching Post Modern Prometheus just reawakened my love for X-files. I saw I Want To Believe and thought it was an okay film. I expected aliens and monsters and got religion instead. Today, I finished watching an episode and it was pretty funny and campy. That particular episode was a real departure from the original setting and tone, but it still proves how awesome Chris Carter is.

With no loving in our souls, no money in our coats

I always tell people that in order to know happiness, we need to understand pain and suffering. To be content is a substitute, but it's not the real thing. My family has an issue with me on whether watching films make me happy or just leave me content. They consider it a brain numbing drug. I consider it a chance to step into another person's place and experience the drama and the pain. I have an addiction to movies with intense scenes. Living in such a dry ordinary setting, I feel a bit hollow. Those intense scenes let me delve into a person's mind who is probably thinking How do I survive? What if I die?, instead of I need to be successful.





I'd rather be Ed Norton with the IKEA products, but savings lives and possibly humanity seems less depressing. And not as boring.

When it comes to relationships, do people prefer passion (with happiness/suffering) or contentment? When I read Mrs. Dalloway, I could understand her indecision. She is content being with this one man, but is frustrated as well. It's hard to decipher which is better.

Daffodil Bulbs

Today after I was done with all my work, I decided to go and plant daffodil bulbs. It was a lot of fun and it turned out that I did not have enough space to plant all the bulbs. Though it will probably take another year before I start seeing yellow and white again, the leaves are beautiful and as of right now, they don't really look like anything. It's buried in dirt.

I realized that I am addicted to the Pan's Labyrinth Soundtrack. I recently bought a few songs from The Clash, but I haven't really been listening that much to them. Instead, I have been listening to all those sad lullabies. I think I'm a sucker for sad dramatic music. Give me something tense and haunting and I'll buy it right away. John Tavener did it and I bought it. I bought this a year ago and I still love it. What really makes a movie memorable, aside from a great script and great acting, is the music. Usually great movies have great atmospheric music which adds to the emotional value of the scene. Children of Men is an amazing road journey. John Tavener's music is an integral part of it. Without the haunting religious music, the sense of emptiness and despair lessens. I don't think I'll ever be a composer but I sure love listening to the music!

Speculative Searchers

It took me a very long time to figure this out- why the fuck am I not writing? After planning and outlining, when it comes to write, I basically have nothing. I think I have some innate laziness which causes me to nap all the time. So now, I am going to write. Because I need to. I haven't in probably four months. WELL, I haven't completed anything since those four months ago. Bleh. That old gramps and brat script somehow got lost in the pile of old notebooks. I haven't really figured out how to get the old grandpa and the brat alone together to bond. I drove the family out with some competition for the sister, had the grandpa situated near the family so the boy can spend his weekends with him, and had the grandpa in the house where the boy lives. I need those two to bond without some annoying child or meddlesome parent. :(

I also realize that I hate where my life is going at the moment. I think I am experiencing with Kafka was feeling when he wrote The Metamorphosis. I hate being able to relate to books. Especially sad, depressing ones. I am going to read Harry Potter again and be able to relate to Harry again. His life has been one major battle after the other, but he manages to be happy. I don't know how he does it, but I sure would love that optimism and determination.

In Search of Some Form of Identity

We all go through it. Who am I? This question seems to pervade all throughout the youth. I don't really have a problem with answering this question anymore. I used to a few years back when I was really dumb and into medicine. Now I realize that I am a person who is attaining for some lofty goal in hopes of controlling the population. So much better than medicine. I think this career path is so much better than my former one, as I think I am better suited to it. One of my favorite novels is 1984 and I have a great liking for Brave New World. How am I going to take control of the masses? Through television. Duh. What better way to become a demagogue than with a outlet where people's minds turn into tapioca? Enough about me though.

I ask this- who are we? Who is the we? We in this case refers to the youth and particularly the ones situated in the US. Which of course includes me. Strange though as it sounds, but I never really identified with that group. With spectacularly British parents (complete with mannerisms, food tastes, the love of pubs, and some mildly depressing moments) I just really thought of myself as the one really without a group. But anyways! This group has no culture. Culture, I have never heard of such a word. I guess consumerism can be part of one's culture. But going to different countries really opened my mind. I pretty much now understand that I don't really belong in any group in particular. I'm with the Tom Hanks character from The Terminal. That's my group.

(Note: I went really off topic this time.)

Never Let Them Go

I recently was watching something with my parents and something really struck me "Will I be as good of a parent as they are?" Quite the strange question to ask oneself especially if that oneself happened to still be called a kid. We were watching a muckracking television show about the deplorable state and neglect children, especially orphans, and the mature decisions they have to make because of their heavy responsibilities. But underneath the Schindler's List-esque music and the cries, is just a story about the loss the innocence. This show instantly reminded me of a movie I watched a year ago about the effects of war on children. That movie happened to be Grave of the Fireflies. Though I often remain stony faced when I see war, watching the small child hallucinate really got to me. That small child and her older brother were just like the characters in the show, except this time, an older female orphan caring for her younger "brother." These children have to face the cruelty of adults, the fear of losing each other, and also the fear of starvation.

I asked my mother how some adults could be exceptionally cruel to children that are not their own. She told me that some parents feel resentment towards their own children and instead love their pets even more. Fortunately my family doesn't have pets. I felt quite glad and humbled by the amount of care and love they have given me. It also made me feel guilty for all the shit they had to put up with. Teen angst sucks for everyone.

I feel bad now because I am going to introduce more pop culture into this post. Harry Potter and Pan's Labyrinth. My friends say I am obsessed with these two stories. I just think they work on so many levels. In Harry Potter, Harry is infuriated by the way his mentor abandons his wife and child to help Harry. Harry says that parents should never abandon their children. It is even sadder when both the mother and father leave their newborn to fight against the evil wrong doer. In the midst of a battle, they are killed and this child is left parent-less, just like Harry. In Pan's Labyrinth, Ofelia escapes to the dream world while her mother battles an uncooperative fetus and her stepfather cruelly kills every farmer. Her delusion escalates when her mother dies and she begins to rely heavily on the made up faun. When Ofelia is wounded, Mercedes, her surrogate mother, watches in despair knowing she cannot help the little girl.

Am I going to be a good parent? I don't know. All I know is that when I will have children, I will try my best to protect them and to nuture them and to let them go when the time is right. But will any "good" parent ever let their child go? I think I will never be able to let my children go.

And The Moribund Shall Live

I have decided to try something new and different but definitely very rewarding. I think I am beginning to go on a health craze, not really for dieting (because I just love food and big voices), but because I have this insane idea that I can become healthier. WTF? I know right. Yeah, I need to be more healthier because, well, it's good for me. Like macaroons, except less sugary.

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I have been thinking over a strange comedy that I would like to get started on for years, but always seem to think of it as a direct parody of 'The Village.' Except I don't think I would have some random person dressed as a creature parading around the town. Hmm, maybe I'll find what I'm looking for later.