Silent Night...

Silence is not always golden. Sometimes it reeks. Simmers. Stews. Then it spills over.  Into a puddle of words that is... messy, unstructured, wide-spreading and murky.

Four months into my self-imposed unemployment, I find myself occasionally drifting in pockets of silence. And thus, any direct human and social contact creates an overwhelming response of animation and self-expression. The need and want of connecting. Then inevitably I drift back into my pocket of silence... a pocket impenetrable even to the persistent Christmas music playing over the radio...

I'm comfortable with silence, most of the time. But lately the silence seems tinted with melancholy, which is unsettling. So once again I find myself questioning... am I reflecting? Sulking?  Or is it just... estrogen?

Being ever so painfully conscious of my faculties and general state of being, the dramatic pendulum swing from for lack of a better description, "VERY happy and content" to "...pensively sighing..." is troublesome and frankly, irritating. To be irritated with one's irritation is to put oneself in a semi-vicious cycle of... constant irritation, which is precisely where I seem to have inconveniently placed myself by accident.  I'm no martyr.

Segue quickly to "Control", and my propensity to want to be IN control. Perhaps it's just that, the fact that as of today, I don't appear to have control over huge chunks of my life. To start, I've not been able to sit myself down in front of a mirror and find out what I'm looking at, or where I want to see myself in 5 years as far as a career.  Granted, I've never been able to vocalize with any conviction or been able to provide concrete details of any mid to long term plans, to anyone, be it employers, friends, or members of my family. I'm big on generalities and extremely vague on specifics and very much against committing myself to a job with fear that it won't ultimately be what I want to be doing. No, I wouldn't make a great politician...


Hum. To be continued. Need to lighten up for the time being...

Very Quickly...

Sometimes during the 2 hours I was out of the house last night, Duke and/or Delilah, ate the Blueberry muffins. Yes, the entire pan of what was left on top of the kitchen counter 'theoretically' out of their reach.  I really would like to see who and how they got it without dropping the pan...  

I'm outta control!

3rd entry in as many hours? Say it with me, pro-duc-ti-vi-ty!

Check it off the list - Blueberry Muffins.  DONE!

The fresh berries weren't as sweet as I'd like them to be, but for this first time muffin-baker I'm pretty pleased! To Alton Brown :::fist bump:::.   I would insert photographic evidence here but until I have space to load the photos still stored on my memory card... do use your culinary imagination for this and for other creations I've in mind to make or bake!  

Ah yes, I also made mashed potatoes outta the 5lb bag of potatoes that's been occupying counter-top space. Err not all 5lbs, just 2lbs worth. I think the recipe should be altered from half a stick of butter to a whole stick. What's the point really of using only half a stick?  Lunch, or rather Linner, will be... grilled chicken breast with a side of lightly boiled asparagus topped with a honey mustard dressing and... savory mashed potatoes.  This will be followed by a light dessert of an almost-flourless peanut butter cookie that I baked last night, a blueberry muffin and a cup of English Tea with cream and sugar.

.... drool.    

Diary of the Unemployed & Undeterred: Day 80-Something

I'm sitting on my ass here.

Smartass answer to self:  "Well no shit Frances how else would a person sit? On his or her feet?"

Ooh nice, I can tell today's going to be a doozy if this is how I'm going to find amusement. Internal jokes (bad ones at that) and mundane if not downright retarded dialog with... myself.   

Tasks at hand, or rather, immediate challenges I'm facing, because the idea is that when you put thoughts on paper it becomes more concrete and therefore, slightly more legitimate than just another thought lost amidst a... sea of thought.  Right.  So here they are:
 
(1) How to find fulfillment in spending time with myself.
(2) How to muster and focus my energy on executing well laid-out plans.
(3) Where I'm going to find well laid-out plans... oh I'M supposed to lay them out... crap...
(4) How I'm going to get the rest of the red paint off my kitchen wall.
(5) How to train the dogs so they can walk themselves. Oh and maybe bring in some income.
(6) How does one make delicious Blueberry muffins?

Stop.

This is me stopping myself, because the list was going down a different path than I'd anticipated. I was not ready to take this seriously... so instead, I'm going to make myself breakfast...

Time to execute Plan #6! Yay! 

OH! Almost forgot. I also need to work on a blog/paper regarding intercultural communication. More on this much later. I am not joking with this one! At least, not yet.

Chinese Zodiac - Part... where I wonder about what I just read...

Ok, instead of a full-blown analysis on the subject matter, I'll simply say this (Read previous blog for context):

I'm not a fatalist. I don't fancy all events to be pre-determined and therefore inevitable.  Being rather opinionated and having a strong sense of self, I also find it difficult to reconcile my being the way I am was determined by my birth time, date and planetary position and not a product of my own doing. However, while I won't say I fit the bill entirely (because I do have a sense of humor goshnammit!), but errr, the readings tend to be frighteningly close. What does that mean...?  Am I better or worse off for having read insights into 'myself'...? Could I force a change...? Do I become empowered by what I've read...?

To persist in this line of thinking will require a post-thought head massage to untangle the knots that are sure to form...owww... 

Chinese Zodiac Sign - Part I

Your fixed element is Metal

Resoluteness and inflexibility are some of the primary qualities associated with Metal. As a Rooster-sign person you are likely to determinedly work towards your goals. This can lead to your being a perfectionist, which can work for or against you. Taken together these traits have the potential of making you overly critical of others while you reject their constructive criticism. Even when all signs point to a needed change, you tend to stay the course.

These qualities, however, contribute to your probably being quite competitive. You likely have strong determination to finish what you start and win at games or athletic contests. You also tend to be ambitious, and will probably work long and hard to advance your position.

Metal is cold, and you probably tend to be insensitive when it comes to the feelings of others. If, for example, you're not careful, a propensity to nag and carp could be hurtful and cause difficulties in your interpersonal relations

Under the influence of Metal you are likely to have a strong sense of self. This contributes to your self confidence and generally self reliant nature. You probably have an almost unshakable faith in yourself. This is a significant factor in your pluckiness, which is a primary, Rooster characteristic. It also contributes to a desire to be noticed, dress to impress, and be admired. And, as does the metal gold, you will usually shine.

Although the Rooster-sign person is usually sociable and enjoys it, you still have an independent streak and can be alone in a crowd. In general this means you tend to carry your own weight and to not seek outside help with any difficulties you might have. In other words you suffer in silence..

As a Metal-sign person seriousness is likely to characterize your attitude and behavior. You may be accused of not having a sense of humor.

Resilience is another Metal characteristic you're likely to have in abundance. No matter how many times you are knocked down by life's vicissitudes, you're going to find some way to pull yourself up and get going again. As a Metal-sign person you will probably break completely or not at all.

You may, however, be prone to bouts of sadness or melancholy, but they will seldom if ever last for long.


My thoughts:  You bet I have thoughts about this!   Stay tuned for next blog...

One-liner to kick off the week -

This just occured to me:  There's nothing worse than an ugly narcissist. 


Ha ha...

Well well...

Hum. As troubling as emotional turmoil in my life can be, it probably brings out my best writing...??

So now I wonder. What can I blog about as I'm not emotionlly err...turmoiled?  Shush, it's my blog, I'll determine what's grammatically and vocabularily awesome. ;)

I've not yet set aside time to digest my trip to China or come to think of it, Cambodia, but something tells me my long plane ride home will provide ample time for stray thoughts and for drawing conclusions of my overall trip so I'm not in any hurry for that particular subject.  I'm re-reading the Da Vinci Code because Dan Brown's a pretty darn compelling story-teller and the book's a fun read and also not something to blog about. I'm listening to Trance Jazz which I wouldn't know how to identify if I heard it in a club... I don't hear me saying "Err that's not trance, that's so trance jazz" anytime soon in the future.  I definitely don't have any more personal details to overshare at the moment.  I'm saving those for my emo-moments.  I'm not feeling any more narcissistic than usual so even though this whole paragraph has been littered with "I", I won't be adding to my list of 'things to be proud of... about myself'.  Narcissism at its best.

I'm scratching my head, hoping the motion will set a spark to a fresh idea... 

Oh I met a super-cute BIG yellow labrador today in a park up Yanmingshan (National Park in Taipei).  Anytime I stopped petting him he'd paw at me and stick his nose under my hand. At one point he stretched forward with his head down but stayed in the position so his butt was in the air with his tail wagging non-stop.  Good doggie. Let it be known, Taiwan still has the cutest, friendliest and most socialized mutts I've ever met. They also know how to side-step buses and stay in bike lanes.

... and that's all I got. Geez.

Trains of Thoughts...

Found this draft of a blog that I'd started but never posted. In hindsight, it was good, and so I've finished up where I left off...


An evening in late July, 2009 - Home -

Duke's curled up in his donut. Delilah sighs and lays contently at the foot of my bed. All's quiet in the Heights. Hacienda Heights. My home away from... home?

Home sickness strikes me at odd moments. It makes me wonder about where home truly lies. It isn't "home is where the heart is" or anything truly tangible, but a feeling. Earlier in the month, my dad was here for a week and a half, and he told everyone we met up with during this course of time that he was here to give his daughter the feeling of 'home life'. It was a sweet gesture and very much appreciated, especially since even with a bad hip he insisted on having me sit and relax after work, while he washed the dishes even having cooked the entire meal to greet me home in the first place. I'd sit and relish, all the while feeling guilty that I was letting him do all the work, but somehow doing anymore than sit there and be appreciative would've taken something away from him.

I remember all the days and hours when I couldn't wait to get away from home. I'd lived under the same roof with my parents for what felt like centuries. Forever. A lifetime. Granted, this liftime that I'd felt didn't even in hindsight, pass by in the wink of an eye, nor was it filled with sunshine and puppies. There were epic battles, there was a great deal of hurt and many a tears. I'd cried for independence, the need to 'make my own mistakes' and to 'forge my own path'. My parents must've had many sleepless nights (well more so my mom since my dad's an earthquake-sleeper-througher...) The idiocy of youth, my youth quietly astounds me. Precious precious moments wasted.


Same evening in late July, 2009 - Hot Hot Heat -

The heat of Summer has caused a stir. While not as poetic nor as symbolic as its Broadway Musical counterpart of a different season, "Summer Awakening" seems to best describe what I've been experiencing. It's growing pains that I hadn't felt in years. My head is filled with the w's.... why...what... answers aren't forthcoming. Everything's a bit hazy. Moments of lucidity are quickly followed by extended periods of complete and utter confusion.


Tonight, October something, 2009 - Confessions -

I can say simply that the extended periods of complete and utter confusion have passed. A sense of calm has since settled in. Like anyone else, I've gone through significant phases in my life marked by notable events, irrevocable changes take place and ideally I come out having learned something valuable, having grown as a person just a little bit more. This past Summer saw me make decisions that caused... ripples. Large, circular, deeply felt, ripples. Not just in my own life, but lives of others. What I've learned will be at the end of this whole... essay.

I NEVER make decisions lightly. EVER. You'd know this just shopping with me... it's an exhausting experience really. "I want it, I really would love to have it, but do I really need it, what if I find it cheaper somewhere else, it'll probably go on sale, don't I have enough of the same color, it's so cute, ugh but really what would I wear with it, is it practical, but that other one looks nice too, but this one has that sparkly..." 9 out of 10 times I leave the store empty-handed. Or I end up returning it to the store just a day after having spent an hour in that one little corner of the shop. Indecisive or smart shopper? I can argue both points effectively.

I apply the same (il)logic to all decisions I make in life. I am my own pro- and con- column. There might as well be two marquees simultaneously streaming through my head, with the headlines shouting out the whys and why not's. I quit my job during the middle of this recession. I sloppily broke up with my boyfriend who was my best friend and family of 3 and half years.

With regards to the former, I quit my job at the company that I'd grown to care deeply for was because it wasn't going to grow in the right direction or with the right people. Would I have side-stepped the fact that it wasn't my passion in life had the conditions been better? In the end, probably not, so I'm ok with leaving on that note. As for the latter, I essentially 'quit' my relationship because I had without notice or warning, wanted to be without the person I loved most because he wasn't right for me. I realized I not only wanted more but I needed more. It broke my heart to face this realization and to have to subject him to my decision. Nothing 'happened' in either case that pushed the decisions, I didn't find a better job or meet someone new, which made me wonder whether what I did exemplified the idea that 'women are fickle'. I've since looked up the word fickle and it isn't true. To be fickle is to be casually changeable, which I'm not. There was nothing casual about either situation. Not to be dramatic, but I'm pushing 30. While it's just a number and what it means is strictly self-imposed, I should be getting financially secured and settling down and not going in the other direction.

Given this thought, as for the aftermath...

I've pushed the reset button on my life. I'm traveling abroad. Spending time with family. Rebuilding and building relationships. Thinking of this past Summer. Wondering about my future. I'm looking at the world with a great deal of curiousity and just a slightest bit of trepidation. I've thoroughly vetted myself and have discovered someone who's become surprisingly pragmatic, yet one who's still realistically optimistic and reassuringly confident not only of myself, the choices I make, but also that everything's going to work out for the best.

That's something I now know at 28 that I didn't at 18 or perhaps the decade that followed.

I'm shelving these thoughts. Chapter closed. :)

Geez. Singapore - Last Note

How did I forget to mention the Singapore National History Museum?!
Two thumbs WAY up. A must-see.
Also, apparently I should've gone to Bukit Timah - highest hill of the island at 500ft, large reserve and huge Monkey population and a gorgeous hike. OOPS.

Next entry: I may attempt to tackle China.

By that I mean putting down my thoughts on China. Not physically... well you know. Tackle.

Singapore continued...

Leaving for a 'sidetrip' to Shanghai in the morning... all thanks to the fact that I've learned that it's in my best interest to respond with a simple 'yes' when I'm asked questions.

"Would you like to try this mooncake?"
"Would you like to do your laundry?"
"Would you like to visit Shanghai?"

Really, would you decline? Saying yes has thrown open doors that I never saw in front of me. What I find behind each door has been surprising and delightful. I've been enjoying the word 'delightful' immensely... or is it that I've been immensely delighted as of late. Regardless, I am both and it is good!

The whole idea of a travel-blog has been tossed to the winds. I've just had a short discussion (Hi Grace!) regarding documenting one's experiences while on a trip. I've taken half as many pictures as I'd expected to, having been rather content to see my surroundings with my own eyes and not necessarily through a lens. I could see with my own eyes and then document it with my camera, but this motion inevitably becomes repetitive and it almost gets in the way of one's natural movements... bottomline, I've been too busy experiencing my trip to formally document it. Blogging is an afterthought, to debrief, and I hope it'll suffice for you the reader... and any of my friends who were hoping to live vicariously through this 2-month trip. :)

I thought this blog would be more about Singapore, but I'm struggling with well, my words. I'd concocted an entire paragraph on how I see the country as a visitor (rather than a family member visiting family), but the only remnant of that paragraph will be this shortened version which unfortunately still sounds like a thesis statement to a stale school essay:

I'd described Singapore as glossy. I stand by the observation (not a difficult one to make) that Shopping is a national sport. Yes the S in Shopping was capitalized. It's THAT serious. Any features that may have been authentic has been replaced by rampant commercialization. The country is constantly making 'improvements' and the entire island is under construction, all on pace to turn it into what appears to be, sadly,... one gigantic resort. It does still impress with its world-class attractions and super-chic shopping districts, but as a whole. It just... isn't...charming?

Whew. Strangely enough, that was not easy to type.

So onto fun and easy: I had fun. Truly. Different if not normal type of fun. MRT-hopping' Hawker-centers-piggin' out type of fun. I went to F-1 and saw a variety of... well I think technically they're called 'vroom-vrooms'... only in practice, but nontheless, fun. I saw the views from the 38th floor of a condo-showroom... stunning. I sat by the Esplanade and enjoyed the lull and lights of the Singaporean skyline at night. I played Street Fighter at the Arcades under Bughis Junction... I ate Satay (meat on sticks!) and drank a pint of Tiger Beer at the Satay Club in Clarke Quay and chuckled at the sight of Hooter Girls...

But what MADE this part of my journey... is this little place in the Chinatown district when you exit the Outram Park MRT station. OSO Ristorante is the name, I'll never forget the music, the magic, the moment... when I... bit... into... my first morsel of foie gras. I may not have a dish like that anytime soon, if ever, but I'll always have that moment... that night... sigh. Beautiful. Just... beautiful. This place will stay with me for a long time.

I think I'll leave Singapore on this delicious note... :)

A quick look at the date indicated on the computer confirms it, it's been a month since I flew out of Los Angeles. It - the city - feels very very far away.


A cool breeze is coming through the kitchen window, the season's changing into Fall, although it could also just be the two storm systems that's threatening the coast of Taiwan that's causing the temperature to drop overnight. Nontheless it's a welcomed change to the constant humidity and heat that may not have dampened my spirits, but definitely my clothes. I will NOT miss the parts of this trip that found me sweating uncomfortably in inappropriate places...


To start, Singapore was a revelation.

At the heart of my trip, or the deciding factor that brought me to Singapore, was the celebration of my grandfather turning 98. It's difficult to describe what it's like to have a grandfather who is 98, or a grandma who is turning 94 but whose health is failing. They've lived in the same house for the past 40 plus years, the same furnishings still adorn the same floors, the orange carpet remains orange, although infinitely lighter in shade, not that the occupants of the house would even remember what shade it had been...

The pace of the house has not changed since I visited as a little girl, it's as if in this house, time slows down. This house IS the heart of the Chee Clan. Grandfather or Gong-Gong as we call him, had his birthday feted by his children, grand-grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Four generations under one roof, eating the same foods we've always enjoyed, conversing in the manner in which we always have, and sitting on the same stairs that seated us as children. The new generation scampered about the dining room unaware... it will be years before they realize how blessed they were to have been a part of such a celebration, to be able to be in the house, in the company of family, to have that moment in time.

... to be continued.

Annoyance

VERY quickly...

After a week and half in Singapore, based on my keen observation, I have arrived at this dreadful conclusion about Singapore: There is a disporportionate number of beautiful women versus good-looking men. Handsome's a stretch for most countries. Thanks to their fashion sense and slim physique, the women of Singapore are very pretty as a population, but I've spotted exactly TWO guys I thought were good-looking. One was European. Or Anglo... I've even been in the Clarke Quay district during lunchtime when all the folks are on lunch break. Nope. In fact, I'm qustioning if that man was the only cute guy I've seen on this trip because I can't even remember what the other guy looked like.

Off to Suntec City... or "SINGAPORE'S LARGEST SHOPPING MALL" dum-dum-dum... maybe I'll have better luck today? It's just eye-candy. Who doesn't like a handful every now and then? :)

Quick blurb

Frances has Traveler's Block. That's writer's block but while traveling. I can't think of anything worse.
I'd like to write about something other than myself, but since I'm still stuck in a rut... that's all I can muster up. Sigh.

:(

Nevertheless, here's a quote from Hamlet which thanks to Kenneth Branagh's 4-hour epic production, IS my favorite play to this day... from Act II, Scene II: "There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so".

Thought of the Night...

It's a dangerous thing, blogging at 3 in the morning.

Continuing with my Shakespearean state of mind... tonight's quote of choice is from Twelfth Night, one of my favorite plays and one that introduced me to Shakespeare in 7th grade. Mrs. Floe, the devil herself on scooter, made sure we ate, drank, and slept Shakespeare. More on that another time.

And so from Act III, Scene 1: "Love sought is good, but giv'n unsought is better".

Earlier today, a friend wondered why it was that it's never the one who you want to be clingy that is, and it's always the ones you don't want to be clingy who are. Her ex from five years ago hasn't quite got the message that even if he was the last man on earth, she wouldn't be back with him.

Anyway, my thoughts on the subject - I don't think clingy is a good thing, period.

Reflecting on the quote, I'll let love come to me.

Quote of the Day

While leaving Kasai Road, I enjoy a moment with the snippity little dog next door who is barking its stupid little head off. It barked at me, I 'barked' back, it barked some more, I bared my teeth and snarled a little... what? Don't judge me.

Seeing this, Auntie Agnes says, "that dog - all sound and fury signfying nothing".

My mouth is agape, "What! That's a brilliant quote!"

"... it's Shakespeare!"

In the back of her car I hang my head in shame... "Oh..."

My mom chimes in, "don't you have all his books...? Time to..."

".... yeah..."

So here, quote of the day from Sir William Shakespeare: "Life is a tale told by an idiot -- full of sound and fury, signifying nothing".

Sometimes that's how I view my blogs. Fail.

Continuation...

So to keep me from playing anymore Bejeweled for the evening... already a quick tangent: stupid brother brings out the "oh-look-it's-a-game-and-there's-a-high-score-table-and-my-name's-not-on-it-so-now-I-have-to-play-it" in me EVERYTIME we're together. So in spite of the fact that I am in a foreign country and therefore should be doing what may be considered... foreign things, I am in fact, sitting on the floor of his flat, on the laptop, playing my 1,000th game of Bejeweled. At least I was, and now I've decided to write a bit, but I'm not sure what's going to come out because it's 12:45 in the morning after a not-too-eventful day.

A recap: Lunch was Dim Sum - delightfully-plated and delicious - at the Conrad Hotel with my First Uncle, Auntie, Cousin and Cousin-in-Law. This was followed by a visit to the Peranakan Museum and a long trek to and through the major shopping plazas on Orchard Road. Subsequently amazed by Singaporean architectural ingenuity. They have been and are somehow able to construct massive shopping blocks and underground thruways without disrupting the daily flow of traffic and access to neighboring plazas. Incidentally, I came face to face with most of Singaporeans in the new Ion center... insane number of shoppers and lookers. Highlight of this little window-shopping trip? A new bakery called BreadSociety... cute little shop with French tunes playing overhead, aside from the unmistakable smell of freshly baked bread, I was drawn by the bakers in action, with one in particular that I thought was the head-chef, who was Japanese and looked up and flashed a quick and friendly smile in my direction when he saw me watching him with fascination as his deft fingers worked the dough. It was amazing to see each and every little baked good hand-worked to such a degree, there were seven bakers working in a tiny station, but while working at a brisk pace, they all seemed happy and relaxed. I had one lovely creation - a light bread with stuffed smoked chicken topped with melted cheese... mmmm....


Back to the original intention of this blog, to continue patting myself on the back on my why I should be proud of myself list:

10. I will not settle for less than what I deserve.

To expound: Because dammit I offer nothing less in return. With anything and anyone that I truly care about, I will do nothing half-assed.

Bonus material: A snippet to Frances at age 18 to early 20's: Relatively alone, having moved south from San Fran to LA. Looked up what it meant to be self-actualized, wanted to be that. Often sidetracked by ill-advised romantic pursuits which subsequently failed miserably, but from an individual growth standpoint, undeterred in becoming a well-rounded and likable person. I noted my strengths and weaknesses, what I wanted, what I wanted to work on. I wanted and still want to be the best version of myself in all situations and with all people, but while that's unlikely because I tend to bend (not over backwards) to accommodate who I'm with, I'm looking for people (and THE person) that when around them, I find that I AM the best version of myself. I want to be challenged. I want to be inspired. I want... a list of things that'll make up its own blog at another time, haha.

And this takes us to...

#11: I am eternally optimistic.

Let's try something different...

Twenty-eight reasons to be proud of myself:



1. I take vitamins. Ok this first one was just a throaway and more of a reason for my mom to be proud of me.

2. I recycle, buy (mostly) organic produce and am mindful of curbing mindless, unnecessary consumption.

3. I rarely suffer from hormanally-induced rages suffered by those of my gender on a monthly basis. I am consistently logical and rational.

4. While it may be mistaken for workaholicism, I care about my work and go to extraordinary lengths to do it with excellence, regardless the amount of extra time I clock in or the number of people I potentially piss off.

5. I recognize my shortcomings and I know when to apologize.

6. I don't sacrifice style nor comfort.

7. I will hold my ground and stand up for what's right.

8. I care deeply for my family and friends.

9. I laugh for the world to hear. No prissy giggles here.


Ok 28 may be a tall order, so let's just go with the 9 for now and we'll continue this later...haha.

It's 2:48am in the morning and I'm insanely going out of my mind.

I hate it. Uncertainty. Not knowing if it's going to work out, I'm driven to tears. What is "it"? "It" is my life. My sanity. My happiness. The feeling of peace and contentment. It's not there. It's fragmented.... I'd hated on living on just pockets of happiness, fleeting moments, yet here I am back at it again. A feeling that's none too foreign.

I'm speaking having downed 4 martini's. 3 Lemon drops, 1 of something the Bartender had concocted but I'd not remembered. It was irrelevant since the Lemon Drop was far superior. Note to self, when in Fullerton, head to the Matador for good dance music and excellent martini.

Alcohol makes one honest... is this the case? I'd like to think I AM honest. But TRUTHFULLY (ah yes, there in lies the rub) I am not always honest. How can you if you want to be a decent human being?? Nontheless I'm besides myself with confusion and an utter sense of... "god am I ever going to get this right". Will I ever get to where I need to be to NOT have this sense of repetitive failure. Or heartache. The heart ACHES.

I need more Lemon Drops to knock me out cold.

Should've known better than to see Knowing.

... the irritation runneth over. No more than 30 minutes has passed since I left the local AMC. I'm still seething. I've already soundly run off a string of expletives (as I was exiting the theatre) that I don't normally use in my writing, so this requires a bit more thought and creativity.

This is me at my most creative: "....WTF !?!?!?!"

Some context: I'm a diaster movie enthusiast. I don't analyze them or judge them based on artistic merits, I just like watching things freeze over, buildings burn up, ocean waves sweep over Manhattan or any other metropolitan city, voclano erupting with hot lava floating down wilshire blvd in LA, that kinda thing. Harmless death and destruction where you don't see a single drop of blood on screen or a broken limb. But you know from the wayward palm tree that serious crap must have happened. People don't even usually let out blood-curdling screams let alone a whimper. Shit hits the fan and then some heroic figure rises from the dust and saves the day. Humanity lives on, having somehow changed for the better, or having learned a valuable lesson. They rebuild, ever hopeful.

KNOWING... IS NOT THAT MOVIE.

There was a LOT of screaming and hysterics. A LOT of death and graphic destruction. And then things turned weird and uncomfortable. Whenever I start to actively wonder about a movie while I'm still watching the movie, it's a bad sign. The thoughts roll into questions... from "Where have I seen that before...?" it turns into "where are they going with this... ? to the worse, "No really... are you serious... THAT'S what this movie is about...?!" Granted, when the first creepy guy showed up with the undead-but-not-quite-alive-calvin-klein-model-alien-vibe (SPOILER ALERT!) and pale face, the PSA should've sounded off in the theater... "Evacuate the building now if you're expecting something other than Signs II..." And then you find out Nicholas Cage's character happens to be the son of a Pastor. All bets are off, at this point you're in some Evangelical nightmare and in the end the theme can only become 'rebirth after the death and destruction of failed humanity'. They even put angel wings on the alien beings/light-spirits/things. I half-expected Noah's Ark to float down when the light beams (yes there are light beams) shone down, parting the dark dark evil clouds. I know this particular blog is lacking oh... form? But pardon me as I haven't been this upset with a movie since... Cabin Fever.

I'm sure when I wake up in the morning I will remember that there were good parts to this movie, and I do still like Nicholas Cage and he being the central character, turned out to be the only likeable character - but - what I'm MOST upset by is the feeling that I'd been cleverly CONNED into seeing this movie. Often after having seen a particularly good indie film, I wonder why the producers or those in marketing hadn't trusted the movie's inherent message enough to pitch it to the audience as is, instead of just wrapping it in previews that feature knee-slap soundbites or snippets that ultimately is not at all what the movie is about. Now with Knowing, I think they recognized that they HAD to approach it from a action disaster suspense thriller angle to sell the tickets, and omitted ANY scenes that communicated the underlying themes and overtones this movie swelled into. From solving numerical puzzles and running from diasaster, it slowly became very preachy and overly omnious, aided by a swelling musical score that was constant and grandios (in a bad way) and built upon its sense of self-importance, building and building but never quite resolving or even reaching the apex of what it's trying to reach.

I will say that one of the final scenes with Nicholas Cage waking up to the sun lying on the onyx rocks, was astoundingly beautiful, purely from an aesthetics and cinematographic standpoint. Moments like this are short-lived, and we're quickly jolted back to reality of what this movie had really become as we see the Adam and Eve children (straight from the Bloomgindale's catalog with their organic cotton genderless shirts, soft curls and porcelain faces) gently placing down a pair of cuddly white bunny rabbits and running guilelessly towards the majestic and glowing TREE OF LIFE. The religious symbolisms are not what you would describe as subtle... and all around them you see the other jellyfish-like alien pods lifting off this lush green planet... home, to the next human population.

Yes, this was THAT movie. That OTHER movie.

Had they been honest with their previews, I probably would not be this upset. I would have approached the movie differently, with a very different set of expectations and frame of mind. But as this was not the circumstances under which I shelled over my treasured Costco-purchased discount-AMC-Gold-Tickets, I want my money back and I don't think I'll be alone in my sentiments. My 'prophecy' for this movie: 60% drop in box office returns from opening weekend to the next.

A Magical Red Carpet Ride...

The Oscars!

Quick question - what's the cut-off age for one to adopt a role model... or four? I'd like to be more like Kate Winslet, Anne Hathaway, Amy Adams and Angelina Jolie. For their respective strength, grace, humility and self-assurance... and let's face it, their hair and make-up team. The same can't be said for the formerly regal Sophia Lauren who for all intends and purposes looked... (fill in the blank because I can't think of the appropriate word).

Slumdog Millionaire - the little movie that won my heart and subsequently and unsurprisingly, the hearts of millions and deservedly so. It was stirring and profound but in such a subtle yet powerful way... I only hope the matter of taking care of the child actors from the slums work out in everyone's favor, can't imagine what it's like to be in their shoes. The kids' interview from the Red Carpet with KTLA's reporters was hilariously giddy and a joy to behold! I hope it makes millions more.

The show itself was spectacular. From the framing of the stage with dripping Swarvokski crystals to the dashing Hugh Jackman who out-Bonded Craig Daniel on this musical night, it was classy and entertaining with moments of sheer comedy - Steve Martin, Ben Stiller, Jack Black, Cuba Gooding Jr. & Will Smith. Low-lights: Jessica Parker's boobs. The aforementioned Sophia Lauren's cooked-up visage. Long speech by cinematography guys. I think that was the category, I had switched over to the Laker-Timberwolve game during that segment. The just as important but doomed to be boring segment.

Quick shout-out to the Lakers. The championship trophy is ours this year barring anymore injuries and Bynum back in the line-up. And could someone PLEASE tell Luk Walton to stop leaving his man open outside the 3-point arch. EVERY GAME!! SERIOUSLY. And ALWAYS WITH HIS ONE TOO MANY PASS! The guy's got mental lapses. It's unfortunate that he's used to the chorus of "Luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuk" from the fans that he will eventually mistaken the boos for sounds of praise. Just had to let that out of my system.

News Flash: Frances is back on the sports track... it's as if I never stopped watching the games all these years...

The midnight bell tolls. Ok fine, more like the sound of my biological ticking... but which one is more poetic? G'night.

Jessica Darling - Why Can't I be a Fictional Character?

It's a quiet Monday evening. It's not an ordinary Monday evening as tomorrow morning Americans will wake up to the inspirational call of a new President by the name of Barack Hussein Obama. Before you stop reading, I assure you this entry is not going to be about politics, nor the impending celebration, and I did not type out his full name to make a point, I just think his middle name makes the guy even more of a trip, even cooler than I already know he is. However he tries to dispute it, he's a rock star with a franchise... Yes He CAN Sell A Bobblehead for $9.99! His line of merchandise alone can stimulate the economy.

Back to this being a quiet Monday evening and the subject of this unremarkable entry: Jessica Darling. She's a living breathing fictional character from a series written by Megan McCafferty. She is awesome. I hate her. I wished I was her. How pathetic it is to wish oneself to be a fictional character? One who isn't a super hero, a fashionista, a magazine magnate, a cherubic teacher, a brilliant doctor or a damsel in distress rescued by some hot dude with a heart of gold? Well we can debate the latter, but mostly she's just an uber-brainy socially-detached if not downright awkward drama-ridden hormonal too cool of an 18-year-old (at the end of Book 2 of the series) who keeps a crazy journal. I literally feel like speed-reading through book 3 and 4 so she can shed some light on what I'm supposed to do with my impending thirties. (Book 3 and 4 follows her through college and beyond... I am in the midst of my beyond... which at the moment is in a state of fog with no more than 10 feet of visibility. ) Somehow I blinked and I'm in my late-twenties. Granted, my early twenties was not 'boring'. It would make a terrific case study of what one should NOT do. My 'smartness' (as intelligence had nothing to do with my life, clearly) was my undoing. I wanted to 'make my own mistakes' and I was quite successful and accomplishing this... which is more than I can say for the rest of my lack of accomplishments. I beat myself up at regular intervals which is why I CAN'T, MOVE, ON. Or haven't been able to move on. That's a more hopeful way of looking at it, and being an eternal optimist, there is yet light at the end of this foggy tunnel of beyond.

Now some of you must be saying, "Dammit Frances, just what the hell did you do in your early twenties that you can never get into details about?" Hey do I ask to read YOUR journal? Unless you're a fictional character, no thanks! There's a reason why TMI has become such a popular acronym!

Pick up the book - you must start at the beginning - titled "Sloppy Firsts". Then come back to me and tell me what you think about her. By which time I may have already finished book 3 and 4 and perhaps Jessica Darling would have cast away her demons and mine all in one fell swoop. These books - her journal - would be the best non-self-help book I've ever read. Pinning my hopes on a fictional character? You betcha.

Meanwhile, I will be tuning in tomorrow morning at 8:00am PST to listen to President Obama's (YAY!) speech to the nation... the first President I've successfully elected into Presidency. (OMG!) (Yes 'OMG' can be be used in a ridiculous shallow manner but you must account for the source, or the user of OMG as well as the intended 'usee' whom I suspect are NOT shallow as they are reading this illuminating blog. Wink. I will resort to flattery!)

Happy Inauguration Day. Good riddance Dubya, GOOD RIDDANCE!