Make it happen

Ever have one of those moments when you feel incredibly moved by something, maybe even to tears, but you can't understand what or why that is? When your heart pounds faster and your eyes start to feel tense and red; something's either wrong or, if you're me, you've been touched by something profound that even you can't put your finger on.

Today I had the pleasure of seeing a brand new musical at the La Jolla Playhouse, a small performing arts center where a lot of burgeoning Broadway plays get their starts.

Looking at the program, or even walking around the place you find out bits and pieces of its history. This is where Jersey Boys and Memphis both had their initial runs before making it onto Broadway and into the Tony Best Musical hall of fame.

Less than a year ago I saw a musical adaptation of the film Little Miss Sunshine with a score by the composer of The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee in La Jolla. Sadly I was disappointed with the outcome, to an extent that I may not consider expounding upon.

But this time I had the chance to see a musical that meant something to me - that could make tears well up for some reason beyond even my comprehension. A few hours later and I'm still struggling with an answer.

The musical was called The Nightingale. It has just started its run in La Jolla. The play is about an newly crowned emperor who has been trapped behind golden walls all his life, unaware of the toils of the kingdom which he becomes ruler of once his father has passed. When he is introduced to the very true tale of a nightingale that sings at dawn and dusk, he forces a girl with knowledge of life outside the golden palace to find the nightingale and bring it back for him and his court to appreciate forever.

When you realize, though, that this show isn't so much about some unrealistic spiritual awakening through a songbird as it is about growing up and finding your way in a restrictive world, it's the kind of story that resonates. The experiences are fictional, but the feelings are real.

For most of the show - and this is true of most musicals - I found myself getting wrapped up in the music more than anything else. I wanted so much to capture and hold onto my favorite songs, that I forgot to look at the whole entity objectively.

After the show ended, I talked a lot with my dad about what I liked and didn't like, what change I could see making sense, what aspects of The Nightingale were so perfect that they required no alteration.

We descended into a conversation about theater in general. What is it we like about it? How do we find it on the cheap locally? One concept we discussed was plays versus musicals. Because we are both quite partial to these branches of entertainment, the conversation lasted for a long while.

I reasoned that much of my reason for enduring any theatrical art is to search through the roughage and eventually find something that brings clarity to my world.

The Nightingale tried to do that. Unlike Spring Awakening (which has the same composer and lyricist as The Nightingale), it didn't have such strong emotional depth or raw power (throw a boy with crazy hair into red lighting [à la "Don't Do Sadness"] and you have one of the most wonderfully lit scenes in all of theater and one of my favorite scenes from Spring Awakening).

Yet for some reason I walked away feeling like I'd learned something. I think what it was had little to do with the story itself. While the plot was pleasant and intriguing, the dialogue wonderfully intellectual and the music beautiful, The Nightingale gained importance for me because it was a reminder of how important theater really is in my life.

At school, I've been to dozens of plays - with music and without. My closest college friend and I consult lists of shows every weekend so we can find some event on campus to participate in. The effort is hit or miss. Sometimes we're really touched by a performance, other times we use it as an example of what went wrong or what to laugh at.

We quantify our feelings so decidedly, that as I sat in the audience at the La Jolla Playhouse, applauding for the cast, I figured that perhaps my eyes then dangerously close to tears were facing that fate because I was so glad to be the type of person who connects with theater at all. Instead of being judgmental at that moment like I am so often with theater at university, I was just feeling myself open up to The Nightingale.

Wanting to be a theater critic is one thing - and it's certainly my thing as well. But beyond that, I'm moved by my own passion for the stage, my need to find myself in it and want to express my devotion and love for it with others.

I guess this is something I already knew about myself, but until today I don't think I firmly grasped the depth of my desire to live a life somehow involving the stage.

I wonder whether anyone else feels as strongly as I do about what are essentially forms of escapist entertainment. As I was driving to La Jolla with my dad today, we talked about what life would be like with other professions. I explained to him why I wanted to have a job in the arts rather than as a lawyer - since we'd been discussing law as well.

My emotions are worn on my sleeve. I feel so passionately about my cause, my love of theater, that it's inalienable from my character. I want it to be my life through my work. A lawyer, or most professionals for that matter, leave the work day and forget about it. It's an afterthought if they can make it one. But my outlet of emotions with theater spans every moment of my life, and it helps me to express myself - to feel moved and to try and figure out the source for those feelings.

So I sit here pontificating on the value of theater. But for others there are other things that inspire these same feelings. That's why we all should pursue our dreams. And not in the trite, fairytale-like way that even the characters of The Nightingale might illustrate, but in our own way. In a way that suits our lifestyles and makes us feel like we want to wake up in the morning every day, even without the goading sound of the nightingale's song, and make it happen. Let's all make our dreams happen.

Movie night in pictures

I have a cool set of friends. We've made some kind of informal resolution to hang out with each other at least once a week this summer if time permits and if we're not sick. Though it hasn't been consistent for everyone and we still need to work out the plans on a weekly basis, It's been fun knowing every weekend will be equipped with something to look forward to. This week it was gathering, like old times, around a television to watch a random movie.

The movie we watched was Peter Seller's farcical comedy The Party. It centers around an Indian man who goes from being an actor to destroying a key set piece and being booted off the set and out of the film industry in general. But as a last hurrah he shows up at a fancy party with the very filmmakers who fired him and tried to ruin his career. As would be expected, chaos ensues...just as it did during our movie night. To a lesser extent, of course.

Hey Kristin, I haven't seen you in more than a week! Here's a surprise picture for your pleasure. I'm sorry about the double chin :( I capture awkward moments.

You know who I don't unwittingly photograph with a double chin? One of the three cute dogs we had the pleasure of hanging out with this evening.

Diana's chocolate chip pancakes also don't have double chins. But they might give us double chins.

More surprise pictures (this one of Eileen) that are easily posed for make for a fun start to the night.

No one was as visibly excited to watch a movie as Kelly.

By 10, we had switched viewing locations, but we were already about halfway through the movie The Party.

Our new spot had cozy chairs and blankets.

And a flat screen TV that Kristin could only see from the level of the floor, apparently.

Then I took a stupid picture of all of our legs and various body parts that I could fit into the frame.

And I also took photos of the various remotes, because clearly this wasn't a subject that had much to photograph.

But the most important aspect was the friends gathered around the television watching a movie with slight racism and a lot of laughs. Except for Kristin who was out of this shot, but still in my heart.

So there you are. Not a particularly fascinating set of pictures, but a reflection of a typical weekend night for me not only nowadays, but also back in high school and even middle school to some extent.

I'm glad I got to share. And relieved to have exempted myself from writing a ton tonight. So sleepy.

Pages to screens

I'm sure a million people have written about this topic before, but originality isn't necessarily my goal when I write a blog. At least not anymore considering I've written over 170 entries on this thing and am having enough trouble not repeating myself. But for some reason I decided today that I wanted to find out what books being adapted into movies I could expect to hit theaters within the coming months. Considering some of my favorite films are based on literary figures (Bright Star) or novels themselves (Pride & Prejudice), I have a vested interest in how books are adapted to the screen, since often times I find myself in the not-so-respected role of the spectator who has never actually read the book.

Such was the case of both of those movies I mentioned a second ago, the first which introduced me to the poetry of John Keats and the second which introduced me to Jane Austen as a writer. But it speaks to the power of film that these two understated films were able to capture my attention in such a way that they convinced me their subjects were worth looking into with a lot more vigor.

So my premise is mainly regarding films based on books that I haven't seen. I apologize if that means I have loose, uninteresting commentary, but I'm using this as an excuse to do some research on upcoming movies I'd like to pay $12 to see (side note: why are movie tickets so expensive now? I'd like to file a complaint).

On the Road

We've all heard about this book about a beatnik traveling across the country, largely based off the story of Jack Kerouac himself. But unless we've sat down to read this book - and admittedly I haven't gotten past the first few chapters due to my ridiculously short attention span - it is something that could thrive from being translated to the screen, to be presented to a whole new generation of hipsters who are societal reactionaries, and perhaps a bit too stubborn to pick up a well-received novel.

That being said, after reading a bit of commentary on Kristen Stewart's performance in the film, it might be difficult to stomach this movie. With her previous appearances in virtually undistinguishable roles in Into the Wild, The Yellow Handkerchief and perhaps even Twilight (as if this is news to anyone - all anyone says about Kristen Stewart is her lack of diversity as an actress), I well expect that this film will prove once again why some actors are renowned for being versatile and others...well, others just aren't renowned at all.

The Bell Jar

I hadn't known that this film was being made until doing a quick bit of searching and finding out that Julia Stiles was starring in the adaptation. Considering Julia Stiles' role in 10 Things I Hate About You, as well as her roles in pretty much every movie she's ever been in, I can see this working - if only because it's probably quite a pet project for her.

Julia Stiles, in what I've seen of her at least, has a penchant for roles as a tomboy, or at least an overly simplified version of a feminist leading lady, which makes anything Sylvia Plath absolutely applicable to her signature method.

While, again, I haven't read The Bell Jar, I have read a bit of Sylvia Plath's poetry and found it very moving, however disturbing and haunting her story and her writing was. This is an adaptation that, unlike On the Road, I can see being very worth the watch - enough perhaps to get me to sit down and pick up the book.

The Great Gatsby

Now this is a film I can actually speak to with some authority. I have read The Great Gatsby and hold it in quite a bit of esteem. Though it was a class assignment, I became very enamored with the characters - particularly he whom the book was named after.

Gatsby is a fascinating tale about class divisions and society in 1920s New York. It's the kind of book that defined an era, painting a picture in minds of millions of readers for generations (many of whom were forced to read the book in school like I was, but were likewise enthusiastic about it) about a time that they perhaps never got to live through.

What I've seen of the trailer for the film adaptation seems promising. Not because it seems all that true to the spirit of the novel, but because it provides a spectacle that perhaps isn't full present in the novel or in its previous film adaptations. With Baz Luhrmann directing the film, it's bound to be interesting - if nothing else.

Anna Karenina

Of the books that I've been needing to pick up for quite a while now, Anna Karenina really tops the list. Since watching Gilmore Girls and hearing Rory reference the book in her high school valedictorian speech, I've wanted to try my hand at this monster of a novel (monster because it's big, not because it's ominous).

And after seeing some stills from the movie and learning that Joe Wright (director of Pride & Prejudice and Atonement, two beautiful films adapted from novels) was directing, I couldn't want to see this film more than I already do. There's something so strong about Wright's adaptations of books - even when he cuts corners, he replaces them with pregnant pauses and scenes rife with turmoil and emotional tension. What he loses might seem irreplaceable, but when you watch Joe Wright you get such a strong feeling for a novel that you can't even begin to complain about what's been lost.

Cloud Atlas

Finally we have Cloud Atlas, a film that I'm sure most haven't heard of. Also a book that I'm sure most haven't heard of. And admittedly, neither had I. But because of my passion for the film Bright Star and the star of the film, Ben Whishaw, I learned about this little gem a few months ago.

While I'm not fully sure of what the plot of the story is, having been a lazy reader I know that the IMDb synopsis says it's "Six stories set in a different time and place become intricately related to each other." While this alone might not spark interest, the cast includes Tom Hanks, Jim Sturgess (of Across the Universe and 21), Halle Berry, Susan Sarandon, Hugh Grant, Jim Broadbent and, as I mentioned, Ben Whishaw. If I was going to create a fantasy cast, a few of those actors would definitely make the list.

So in conclusion, though I haven't really given you a ton of information on these films - partly because I am too tired and lazy to research in depth and partly because I want to leave some mystery in the film-viewing process for myself and anyone else who happens to be reading this - I hope that this concept has sparked your interest. Because the point of nerding out on IMDb like I do so often is to find little diamonds amid all the roughage that exists on the pages of a compendium of all films ever made. If I did all the work for you, then you wouldn't go searching for your own diamonds would you?

Nine lives

There are times I believe I'm the only one in the world who likes to think of the future as something tangible and malleable. I consider what I want out of life and figure out how to manipulate my experiences and visions of my adult life so that what I want becomes what I have.

Not that I believe I will necessarily attain all my goals or arrive at a certain predestined point by the time I'm in my mid-20's, but to the extent that I often consider how life could play out.

I think that freaks out some people. When I tell friends, family or romantic interests that I have certain life goals and expectations, they tend to respond either one of two ways: 1. brushing it off or 2. laughing and questioning my sincerity.

The truth is, I have had several incarnations of a life plan. But with every single one, I've felt completely seriously that they would happen. That I would end up living the way I imagined in my head. And even if things don't turn out exactly the way I picture, I'm certain that my concept of the future is not something to warrant brushing off or scoffing.

That's why I felt I might share a few of my visions of the future with you. There aren't nine (the title of this blog is a misnomer), but there is more than one - a reflection of how my goals have changed along with myself, but never because of disbelief by my peers.

1. The idea of home

Before I was old enough to really fathom moving away from home, I was always content with the idea of being an Orange County citizen for the rest of my life. I planned to go to school at UCLA like my mom and then head back south to become a veterinarian or an actress or a singer or some other mismatched career to my person.

I used to think in the context of what life would be like if I lived with my parents for the rest of my life. Looking back it's a sort of inane concept, and I can see why others might think it lame. Yet I can still see the benefits of living with a parent if, as in my case, your parent is also your best friend.

Humanity doesn't scoff at people rooming together for prolonged periods of time, but the idea of a child outstaying their welcome at home is something unacceptable. But even at the age of 12 or 13, I was telling my dad that I wasn't sure I'd ever want to be married. That maybe I could live life forever single, my only companion being him. It seems silly in retrospect, but only because being single and maintaining a healthy relationship with your parents are not mutually exclusive concepts.

After a while, I came to my senses and realized there was more to life than a plan etched out of a comfortable living situation from the past 19 years. And I moved onto my first dream life...

2. In my New York brownstone

Up until the age of twelve I think I'd been to New York City maybe three or four times at most. I had relatives in New Jersey, just over an hour's drive from the city, but because of traffic and difficulty parking and a general distaste for touristy travel, we rarely ventured as far as Manhattan.

When I was 11, though, I got really into the musical Wicked. My dad got the CD from one of his piano students and when we listened to it for the first time together, I resolved that Broadway was in style again and I would see this show as soon as possible. This was back in 2004, not even a year after the show had come out and long before it became the layman's Broadway favorite.

I started to think of a life not at home, not even in southern California, but far far away. I loved the hustle and bustle of cities, balanced out with the serenity of parks thrown into their centers (get it, Central Park?). I could see myself coming home every evening to a cozy apartment with wood flooring and an oversized couch, sipping on tea and reading a new novel each week.

For the first time, I could also see someone else there with me. There was one time when I was in New York a few years after my personal Wicked phenomenon when I walked down the street and saw a guy that - despite never seeing him before and never seeing him again - I pictured in the context of my New York brownstone life. And it all made sense.

Until a few years later when I changed the location of my dream, the idea stayed virtually the same. And actually, the concept hasn't changed much despite the location being altered quite significantly.

3. Finding reality in London

Because by the time I was 14, I'd been to London. And once you've been to London, you never go back. Or at least you never want to.

From then on, my image of a brownstone in an upperclass section of Manhattan was replaced by an equally posh, but somehow infinitely more beautiful idea of living in Hampstead Heath in London. This is an area that can look like a small town, a city, a village and a forest all within a couple miles' radius. When I walked down the street in Hampstead for the first time, I could feel myself settle into a feeling of calmness and sheer bliss. Being surrounded by trees, but also no more than a 20 minute commute to central London was what my heart had been waiting for back in New York.

This is the place where hustle and bustle collides with deadening quiet. And where you can imagine yourself living with sophisticated style and class, but also with a plethora of supplies for DIY crafts and fixer-up projects strewn about your flat. And unlike New York that seemed like an unreachable dream to some extent, I have always seen Hampstead as a reality.

Since that transition, I've toyed with idea of moving to countries where English isn't the first language. I've considered options outside of my childhood, 11 year old and 14 year old goals. But even when I return back to a feeling of satisfaction with my goals, I'm still met with disapproval by those around me - if only because they don't understand.

I guess the truth is I don't need anyone to understand, except me. Because when it comes down to my final decisions - of where to apply to jobs, where to move, where to date, where to do anything - those choices will come from me and me alone. Others may factor in, but first and foremost I'm living to find fulfillment in my life. Where others fit in is beyond my control; what's important is the path I lead.

Fin.

The one with the comedy

In comedy there are set times to laugh. A joke is told, a quip is spoken, a pie is thrown in someone's face. It's all laid out right in front of you, and because humanity has been trained to respond to humor via warm-up comics, laugh tracks and every other manipulative method of increasing audience response, we know where and when we're supposed to laugh and why.

Since I turned 13, I've been fascinated with how TV and movies are made. I've been to premieres and tapings of sitcoms and late night talk shows. I've observed photoshoots and videoshoots and tried my own hand at the "post-production" process as a journalism student.

What I've found most interesting, though, is the very set method of multi-camera shows - a phenomenon that has become utterly unconquerable (ask my employer, CBS) - in which comedians on a set are rewarded with tremendous laughter for doing the simplest things. Every time Jim Parsons cracks a deadpan joke on The Big Bang Theory, he grabs a hefty bout of enthusiasm from the crowd that is sitting right in front of him. If only we could all have that kind of ego boost.

But we don't live on a soundstage in the middle of a studio backlot. We don't have a hundred people staring at us while we recite our lines. We don't have several cameras pointed at us from different directions to capture our best side. All we have is ourselves, and when we find ourselves in a comedic situation, the only one there to laugh (hopefully, unless we're being taunted) is us.

So in my life, I've learned to laugh at myself and share my ridiculous stories with others, just to get a taste of what it is to be comedic and actually garner a laugh.

The one with the 52 pick-up

Just today I exercised this capacity out of sheer necessity. I'd been sent on a mission to the loft of my office to locate some posters with photos of Survivor to be used for some purpose that I can't recall now. My boss walked me up the stairs to the loft and showed me to a set of shelves that was poised atop a filing cabinet. Each shelf was very thin and very high up, making it a fine storage facility for the posters, but not a fine location for locating posters should you be forced to search for images of Survivor.


When my boss left, I grabbed a chair from a few feet away and pushed it right in front of the filing cabinet. I stood on the chair, but realized that even at the increased height I still couldn't see enough of the posters to tell whether they were from Survivor or not. Then came my brilliant idea...

Pull all the posters down. What I did not realize was that these posters were mounted on heavy duty photo paper, the kind that when printed on a scale 24x36 or whatever it was, flops sideways and wobbles unless put on a flat, sturdy surface. After I threw all the posters to the ground, I realized that my job was no longer to search for Survivor, but to put them all back up again. My own stupidity had put me in one of those "could've been avoided" situations.

It might have been nice to have heard a laugh track at that moment; to have had someone jump out from behind the scenes in all black with a broom to push away the photos and allow me to go on with the rest of my comedy routine, but it was clear that the only thing left to do was laugh. It reminded me of another event in my recent past...

The one with the cell phone battery

It was the first quarter of being at school and I was just starting to feel really comfortable around my new friend Dana. We were standing in the lobby of our dorm having an emphatic conversation when I gesticulated wildly. I can't remember what got me so excited, but the level of enthusiasm I had made my cell phone slip right out of my hand and slide across the linoleum tiled floor.

That isn't the end of the story, though. Oh, no. Not only did my phone slide, but it managed to detach itself from its back cover, unfastening the battery from its rightful place, allowing the battery to slide across the floor as well. While the back cover and the phone body stayed behind, the battery kept sliding until it fell into the crack below the door to the dorm's elevator.

I waited around two or three days to get a replacement battery, but in the interim all I could think of was what stupidity that situation had been. How contrived, to have such a Murphy's Law moment. But because no one was going to come out and retrieve my battery from the elevator shaft, I also had to just embrace the fact that dumb things happen and at least they make for good stories. Which brings me to my final story...

The one with the cute guy

To be honest, there's not much specificity I can give with this story because it covers such a broad space in time. I've spent virtually my whole life laughing at my love life because without humor, it would be pretty sad.

Since I was in preschool, I've always had a crush. There were some I told about it (like in first grade when I wrote my first love letter and attached my school photo) and some I never did (like with everyone else), but no matter the situation - there's always something you absolutely have to laugh at.

Back in fifth and sixth grade, I liked on boy who had absolutely no interest in me. We'd sit next to each other for math lessons in class and there was this one time he was reaching to pull out a chair, and our hands touched. I can only imagine the look of sheer joy that spread across my face at that moment. It's like something off of Disney Channel, it's so ridiculous.

The thing about life's turmoil is that it can affect you in one of two very distinct ways. On one end, it can make you miserable and self-pitying. You can complain to everyone around you about that time you dropped heavy posters and risked getting a massive paper cut, or that time you lost your phone battery, or that time you were too shy to interact with that cute guy (every cute guy).

On the other end, you can see yourself and your experiences in the context of a comedy. Of a sitcom, or a funny anecdote, a punchline, a play on words, whatever. We may not all be able to stand in a room making socially unacceptable jokes and having millions of people around the country laugh with us, but at least the most important audience member consistently has our back. That audience member is us.