I'm not a film geek.
I just got back from playing board games, starting with Cineplexity. Two cards (setting/prep/actors/scene) are in the center and when it's your turn, you are the director. Other players have to come up with a movie and explain the reason they picked that movie. You decide which movie takes the card. Very entertaining, but of course, I wasn't creative or "knowledged" enough.
The first night we (film students) met each other, 9 of us went to watch "Inglourious Basterds." On the way there, every time someone mentioned a movie, lines will be quoted by someone and will be followed by somebody else. I secretly smiled because I could never quote anything. And because I couldn't believe I was riding with these film geeks. And because I felt like I should be one.
We had about 3 hours before the showing so we walked around and entered stores along the way. In Borders, I found a book titled "Obsessed with Hollywood," which had 2500 random questions about films. Out of like 50 that we played, I only knew 2, both related to books. The good side of this is that I was the only one who knew those. Bad side? I didn't know any other ones.
I'm a very subjective film critic so I usually say "I like/don't like/love that movie!" instead of, "that's a great movie!" and don't weigh all the film elements to decide whether I like it or not.
Oh, here is an example. I didn't like "Pulp Fiction" because I could not understand what was so funny and smart about it. Disgusting and gory. So I fast-forwarded..uhm, most of it, I think (I tend to do that). Never watched "Kill Bill"s, and don't think I will. But I liked "Inglourious Bastards" because it made me laugh several times. It did have disgusting scenes like cutting the scalps off, but I only had to look down for a couple of minutes in total. I thought acting was great, stories well-tighten. Plus, Kate called me when the film was almost over (2:02am here, so like 4 or 5am over where she was), and gave me a great news. So there. Say what you want to say, but that's just me being subjective despite my film major.
I don't like to deal with the equipment: carrying it, setting it up, locating the right buttons, protecting it, etc.
So I had chosen to take scriptwriting as my elective course, but I couldn't answer when this want-to-become-a-director guy asked me who my favorite scriptwriter was. "Hmm, uhm..Huh.." I realized that my top movies are all adapted from novels: The Shawshank Redemption, Everything is Illuminated, Big Fish, etc... And..I don't know any scriptwriter's name. How shameful. Oh, and I dream about writing something like my top movies, but all I can come up with is chick flicks. Sigh..
We're still on the "orientation" phase, with interviews coming up. It is super weird to be around all these people who know so much about...about everything I don't know or haven't cared. I almost feel guilty being here. Okay, I don't feel guilty but you know what I mean. Still, I love it here. Classmates are nice and cool, I can walk to many places to do different things, I hear different languages all over, and I will get to hang out with Nathan and his friends, and also with Sonya. And really, it's Los Angeles. City of artists, city of dreamers. Maybe it will make me one.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
city=options+culture+people
When I was in Seoul last summer, I went to several musicals, many of them in courtesy of the TV production and people I met as I was interning there: A Midsummer Night's Dream, Grease, Aida, Marionette, and a couple of Korean plays.
Night's Dream was remarkable as it took place in a club, the actors interacting with the audience..very intimately. As you walk into this club, they take your purses and hand you a bottle of cold tea. There's no seat, you find a spot to stand...and groove. The storyline was obvious and not so skillfully told, but hey, it was super interesting. Very enjoyable ("as long as you're not surrounded by 6 women over their forties dancing around you," said the actor I worked with).
Marionette was (and still is) my favorite, majorly because it was by B-boys, and their dance to the story was breathtaking. I don't even remember how I survived that show. Did I ever breathe? I'm still bummed that I didn't go to see "The Ballerina Who Loves a B-boy." Next time. For sure.
When I went to Chicago, I went to see Wicked. In Orlando, La Nouba, by Cirque du Soleil. Awesome, may I add. It was an eye-opening experience, and I couldn't keep my mouth shut during the entire show. It's amazing what people can do with their bodies. A different dimension of circus. Highly recommend it.
In New York, I was going to see Mamma Mia but didn't work after visiting the United of Nations.
On the way to the UN, I was hit on by an African-American in the subway. A writer/photographer/producer, said his business card.
In Honolulu, on a bus by a local. "You speak good English with a nice voice," said the guy.
In Merida, at school and in shopping malls, and in Cancun, in restaurants and beaches.
In Seoul, on the streets: once in a park by an American, who was teaching English ("how old are you? You've gotta let me buy you a drink...At least give me your number." "Sorry..I don't have a phone"), and once on a rainy day, by a Korean, who offered his umbrella. What a shame. It really could have been romantic. Like the beginning of a cheesy romantic movie. But it wasn't.
It was 1:30am. I was walking home from a subway station, after a long night of witnessing older people going not-so-admirable as they were getting drunk. It was pretty dark and no one was around. After several steps, it stopped raining. I looked up, there was an umbrella. I looked besides me, and there was this guy...who turned out to be a boastful college student. He's been lonely lately. Grrr. I started walking a little faster. He would love to have a drink with me. What is with the drinks? Seriously. I said, "I'm too tired." He asked for my number and name. I said I hadn't memorized my number (which was somewhat true) and that my name was...Hani Kim. Gosh, I'm such a smart liar. He saved his number on my phone and dialed from it. "Other time, then. I live nearby..so..give me a call anytime," he said. I gave him thanks and blocked his number in the elevator. Don't judge me. The situation was creepy. And I was tired. And frustrated with people drinking so much.
All cities I've visited and lived have shaped me socially and culutrally. They have offered me many things to see and learn, tastes to enjoy, interesting people to meet, live music to listen to, places to go, and buses to take. And here I've come again. This time, a little older, a little more mature, and for a little longer.
Night's Dream was remarkable as it took place in a club, the actors interacting with the audience..very intimately. As you walk into this club, they take your purses and hand you a bottle of cold tea. There's no seat, you find a spot to stand...and groove. The storyline was obvious and not so skillfully told, but hey, it was super interesting. Very enjoyable ("as long as you're not surrounded by 6 women over their forties dancing around you," said the actor I worked with).
Marionette was (and still is) my favorite, majorly because it was by B-boys, and their dance to the story was breathtaking. I don't even remember how I survived that show. Did I ever breathe? I'm still bummed that I didn't go to see "The Ballerina Who Loves a B-boy." Next time. For sure.
When I went to Chicago, I went to see Wicked. In Orlando, La Nouba, by Cirque du Soleil. Awesome, may I add. It was an eye-opening experience, and I couldn't keep my mouth shut during the entire show. It's amazing what people can do with their bodies. A different dimension of circus. Highly recommend it.
In New York, I was going to see Mamma Mia but didn't work after visiting the United of Nations.
On the way to the UN, I was hit on by an African-American in the subway. A writer/photographer/producer, said his business card.
In Honolulu, on a bus by a local. "You speak good English with a nice voice," said the guy.
In Merida, at school and in shopping malls, and in Cancun, in restaurants and beaches.
In Seoul, on the streets: once in a park by an American, who was teaching English ("how old are you? You've gotta let me buy you a drink...At least give me your number." "Sorry..I don't have a phone"), and once on a rainy day, by a Korean, who offered his umbrella. What a shame. It really could have been romantic. Like the beginning of a cheesy romantic movie. But it wasn't.
It was 1:30am. I was walking home from a subway station, after a long night of witnessing older people going not-so-admirable as they were getting drunk. It was pretty dark and no one was around. After several steps, it stopped raining. I looked up, there was an umbrella. I looked besides me, and there was this guy...who turned out to be a boastful college student. He's been lonely lately. Grrr. I started walking a little faster. He would love to have a drink with me. What is with the drinks? Seriously. I said, "I'm too tired." He asked for my number and name. I said I hadn't memorized my number (which was somewhat true) and that my name was...Hani Kim. Gosh, I'm such a smart liar. He saved his number on my phone and dialed from it. "Other time, then. I live nearby..so..give me a call anytime," he said. I gave him thanks and blocked his number in the elevator. Don't judge me. The situation was creepy. And I was tired. And frustrated with people drinking so much.
All cities I've visited and lived have shaped me socially and culutrally. They have offered me many things to see and learn, tastes to enjoy, interesting people to meet, live music to listen to, places to go, and buses to take. And here I've come again. This time, a little older, a little more mature, and for a little longer.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Gillette
I never named the Honda.
Jackie had taken "Hani the Honda" and Sarah and I were brainstorming several names for our own Hondas. But I never got a fitting name for my car, mostly because I never thought it as mine. Or didn't want it to be mine. I wanted a problemless car to be mine.
I've had several problems with that car that I had gotten to the point that I was freaking out with the sound of crickets, thinking the noise was coming from the car. Lately on my way to Omaha, the "ABS" sign popped on, and then I lost the fill cap. Not the car's fault, but I still blame it.
And to that nameless car, I gladly said goodbye.
We (with Sam, who had arrived to Rapid City safely) were on our way to Sheridon, WY, where we had a room reserved. We stopped to get gas in Gillette, and decided to grab some food there. When I got out of Walmart with some soda cans, I was excited to eat and finally get a good sleep on a bed. My dad had parked the car. The entire family was outside, waiting for...me? The hood was open. My dad was looking at the engine. Some locals were looking at it, too. My heart started racing. Gosh, I hated that car. I joined the crew and looked at it. Smoke. Melted anti-freezer container. Greenish liquid. Again.
It was 8:30pm, and all autoshops were closed. I called the insurance to see what my options were. Meanwhile, this angelic local couple with tattoos and cigarrettes offered us a ride to a hotel that was close by and gave us a list of autoshops we could go the next day. So that's what we did. The Holiday Inn in Sheridon wouldn't reimburse anything or transfer us to a Holiday Inn in town, so we went to the closest hotel that this local guy took us. My dad and Sam walked to the car next morning and went to the autoshop that the guy had told us about. I get a call from Sam. It's the head gasket. Again! It would take about a week to fix it. Of couse. Now these were our options:
a) Leave the car with the mechanic to get it fixed, rent a car and go to Yellowstone to meet another family, and my dad driving back to return the rent car and get the fixed car.
b) Trade the car with anything that the mechanic would have.
c) Try to sell the car and buy another one.
d) Leave the car and think the rest.
After 3 hours of talking and weighing the options, this sainty mechanic, Harry, offered us a '96 Toyota Avalon that he had put together to give to his son. He had been in Cancun two years ago and loved it. He would like to go there again for a week and rest on the beach. His brother-in-law lives in Sioux Falls. It almost broke his heart when my dad finally said that he was just going to leave the car there.
So now, we were driving a Toyota to Yellowstone. The way to Yellowstone was mesmerizing. Some roads reminded me of Chiapas (Mexico), except that they were better-paved and less junglelike. I was glad that I was driving peacefully in this Toyota. Everything worked better although it looked a lot worse. But I liked this car right away and as a family, we named it "Gillette."
Today as we were driving out of Yellowstone, on a construction road, Gillette started making noises whenever my dad pressed accelerator. But no hatred. I was told that we could make it to LA like this. No regrets. At least my parents are here. At least we can get to LA. At least we are with good friends we met up in Yellowstone. At least we are not driving the other maroon, nameless Honda. At least this is Gillette, and I trust it completely for reasons I don't know.
Jackie had taken "Hani the Honda" and Sarah and I were brainstorming several names for our own Hondas. But I never got a fitting name for my car, mostly because I never thought it as mine. Or didn't want it to be mine. I wanted a problemless car to be mine.
I've had several problems with that car that I had gotten to the point that I was freaking out with the sound of crickets, thinking the noise was coming from the car. Lately on my way to Omaha, the "ABS" sign popped on, and then I lost the fill cap. Not the car's fault, but I still blame it.
And to that nameless car, I gladly said goodbye.
We (with Sam, who had arrived to Rapid City safely) were on our way to Sheridon, WY, where we had a room reserved. We stopped to get gas in Gillette, and decided to grab some food there. When I got out of Walmart with some soda cans, I was excited to eat and finally get a good sleep on a bed. My dad had parked the car. The entire family was outside, waiting for...me? The hood was open. My dad was looking at the engine. Some locals were looking at it, too. My heart started racing. Gosh, I hated that car. I joined the crew and looked at it. Smoke. Melted anti-freezer container. Greenish liquid. Again.
It was 8:30pm, and all autoshops were closed. I called the insurance to see what my options were. Meanwhile, this angelic local couple with tattoos and cigarrettes offered us a ride to a hotel that was close by and gave us a list of autoshops we could go the next day. So that's what we did. The Holiday Inn in Sheridon wouldn't reimburse anything or transfer us to a Holiday Inn in town, so we went to the closest hotel that this local guy took us. My dad and Sam walked to the car next morning and went to the autoshop that the guy had told us about. I get a call from Sam. It's the head gasket. Again! It would take about a week to fix it. Of couse. Now these were our options:
a) Leave the car with the mechanic to get it fixed, rent a car and go to Yellowstone to meet another family, and my dad driving back to return the rent car and get the fixed car.
b) Trade the car with anything that the mechanic would have.
c) Try to sell the car and buy another one.
d) Leave the car and think the rest.
After 3 hours of talking and weighing the options, this sainty mechanic, Harry, offered us a '96 Toyota Avalon that he had put together to give to his son. He had been in Cancun two years ago and loved it. He would like to go there again for a week and rest on the beach. His brother-in-law lives in Sioux Falls. It almost broke his heart when my dad finally said that he was just going to leave the car there.
So now, we were driving a Toyota to Yellowstone. The way to Yellowstone was mesmerizing. Some roads reminded me of Chiapas (Mexico), except that they were better-paved and less junglelike. I was glad that I was driving peacefully in this Toyota. Everything worked better although it looked a lot worse. But I liked this car right away and as a family, we named it "Gillette."
Today as we were driving out of Yellowstone, on a construction road, Gillette started making noises whenever my dad pressed accelerator. But no hatred. I was told that we could make it to LA like this. No regrets. At least my parents are here. At least we can get to LA. At least we are with good friends we met up in Yellowstone. At least we are not driving the other maroon, nameless Honda. At least this is Gillette, and I trust it completely for reasons I don't know.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
the journey began
Picture this. Three Asians around Hardee's in Sioux Center, one in the gas station, one in Hardee's parking lot, and one across the street, all searching for something at 2:30am.
They all ride in the car after awhile and go all the way to the Casey's gas station at 10mi/h. Still searching for something. They do this repeatedly until they finally give up. Hani officially lost the fuel fill cap.
How did I manage to lose it? It's quite simple. I opened the fill cap and put it on top of the trunk, as many professional gas helpers do, and was about to fill the tank but realized the pumpers were closed. So I quickly hop in again and drive to Casey's gas station. I get there and my dad realizes that the fill cap is gone. So he put cooking wrap on it and it took us about 12 hours to get the cap. In Rapid City, SD.
Maybe I was really really tired after driving to and from Omaha. Driving back was quite an experience. It was so SO foggy that it reminded me of an airplane flying through clouds. Except this time, I was holding the wheel and was on the ground. Maybe I'm just so dumbly careless in anything that is related to cars. Yeah..that must be it.
You may have wondered, "why only three Asians? I thought you were on a family road trip!" You see, Sam's flight got switched. So instead of arriving last night to Omaha, he got a flight to Rapid City today in like an hour. Since he was leaving from Cancun, he got a voucher to a hotel room and dinner, and business class seats. Although I got to go to the Mount Rushmore and see Josh Wynia and Erin Mulder (what a small world!), after this long long hours of drive in the fog and annoying "check" sign on due the lack of fill cap (I hope), I'm sincerely jealous. We got to the airport earlier since we hadn't realized the time difference, but I'm thankful that I get to sit on the ground for awhile and take advantage of their free wi-fi.
6 hours yet to go. As soon as I get to the hotel, I'm ready to jump on the bed and wish my car could fly. Or transform into robots. Or sports car. Or Prius.
They all ride in the car after awhile and go all the way to the Casey's gas station at 10mi/h. Still searching for something. They do this repeatedly until they finally give up. Hani officially lost the fuel fill cap.
How did I manage to lose it? It's quite simple. I opened the fill cap and put it on top of the trunk, as many professional gas helpers do, and was about to fill the tank but realized the pumpers were closed. So I quickly hop in again and drive to Casey's gas station. I get there and my dad realizes that the fill cap is gone. So he put cooking wrap on it and it took us about 12 hours to get the cap. In Rapid City, SD.
Maybe I was really really tired after driving to and from Omaha. Driving back was quite an experience. It was so SO foggy that it reminded me of an airplane flying through clouds. Except this time, I was holding the wheel and was on the ground. Maybe I'm just so dumbly careless in anything that is related to cars. Yeah..that must be it.
You may have wondered, "why only three Asians? I thought you were on a family road trip!" You see, Sam's flight got switched. So instead of arriving last night to Omaha, he got a flight to Rapid City today in like an hour. Since he was leaving from Cancun, he got a voucher to a hotel room and dinner, and business class seats. Although I got to go to the Mount Rushmore and see Josh Wynia and Erin Mulder (what a small world!), after this long long hours of drive in the fog and annoying "check" sign on due the lack of fill cap (I hope), I'm sincerely jealous. We got to the airport earlier since we hadn't realized the time difference, but I'm thankful that I get to sit on the ground for awhile and take advantage of their free wi-fi.
6 hours yet to go. As soon as I get to the hotel, I'm ready to jump on the bed and wish my car could fly. Or transform into robots. Or sports car. Or Prius.
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