Diva Las Vegas

"What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" -- an adage that's often repeated (if not lived by).  This past weekend, I was actually able to abide by it (despite this, um, public blog post...). Anyway, after months of organizing and outfits planned, my friends and I made the long awaited trip to Las Gaygas where we prepared for the worst... and anticipated the crazy.  I can easily relay tid-bits of the entire weekend in a mere paragraph slump, but that's so unlike me.  Let's break it down:

TIMELINE

Friday, April 3rd: 1:34 p.m. - The Car Ride.

And it wasn't your typical car ride.  It was your Popstar intensified car ride.  With tunes from Lady Gaga, Britney Spears, and Hilary Duff intermixed with lollipops and teen pop magazines, what more can a boy ask for? 

3:23 p.m. - The Gas Station.

When you're with friends, why make a typical gas stop boring?  We transformed the station into a Top Model photo shoot.  "Two girls stand before me, only one can stay...".  Suffice to say, it was a blast.

5:21 p.m. - The Near Death Experience.

Just about two hours later, a vehicle drives beside us, rolls down their window and frantically points to the hood of the car.  Paolo dismisses them politely and we continue driving.  Well, it turns out we'd been driving with the hood still open - flapping around just waiting to fly open.  Incidentally, Paolo knew about it the entire time!

5:25 p.m. - The Pee Break.

So after pulling over and securing the hood, it was time for the obligatory pee break.  The only problem... we were in the middle of nowhere.  Hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go...

6:30 p.m. - The Hotel.

Ironically, we departed from the city Hollywood only to stay in the hotel Planet Hollywood.  While we could have stayed in any ole' actor's room (Darryl Hannah anyone?), we were able to stay in a Michelle Pfeiffer decorated room.  Catwoman over the bathtub?  ... um, meow.

7:25 p.m. - The Strip.

And no, I'm not talking about taking off my clothes! It was time to take the city by storm... literally.  We refueled with pizza adjacent to an indoor rainstorm.  Only in Las Vegas would you be treated to a slice of cheese with a side of rainfall.

11:00 p.m. - The Gay Bar

After a few hours of gambling (and losing), we decided to make our way to the trashy gay bars of Vegas.  And trashy they were... Fortunately, we were treated to a nice cup of Hot Chocolate.  (oh, by the way, Hot Chocolate's the name of the drag queen.)

2:30 a.m. - French Fries and Gambling.

While we know Vegas never sleeps, it's safe to say my friends sure do.  After most of them dropped like flies, Jamison and I tried our luck for a few more hours.  Jamison won!  I did not.

April 4th, 2009: 12:30 p.m. - The Buffet.

When in Vegas, it's almost mandatory to dine at an all-you-can-eat buffet.  And boy did we!  After our fourth plate, it was unanimously decided we'd never go to a buffet again.  Our thighs would eventually thank us for that promise.  (And p.s... the plate to the right was the work of a Mr. Paolo.  He and his sweet tooth makes Willy Wonka look like a diabetic.)

6:25 p.m. - The Divide.

After a much needed rest, it was time for an evening of shows.  A third of the group went to see the divine Bette Midler, another third went to see Peepshow (starring Spice Girl Mel B), and the remaining peeps decided to show everyone that drinking margaritas and vodka at 7 o'clock was actually a good idea.  (Oh yeah, that person was me...)

10:00 p.m. - The Last Night.

A math equation: Eight friends + alcohol + a gay bar x debauchery, a fist, a hand towel, and cement construction tubes = utter mayhem.  Our last night consisted of a few memorable moments (and even more forgotten ones).  However, after what seemed like Nevada's house of shame, I'd have to say the trip was an overall success!

4:20 a.m. - French Fries Part Deux.

Hey, it seemed only appropriate...  

Having been an official college graduate for nearly two years now, I've encountered many different obstacles in my life.  From unemployment to taxes, I've realized growing up isn't as glamorous as my delusional 19-year-old self envisioned.  It's tough.  It's exhausting.  It's nothing like Friends makes it out to be.  However, after actually experiencing the journey, I've realized there are only a few things I'm certain about in Los Angeles: Constant creativity, traffic jams, pollution, and the reliability and grandeur of my friends.

Though, not exactly in that order.

Comment vas-tu?

There's something about the French language that's so hypnotizing.  In fact, there's something about most foreign languages that pulls me in -- like a literary magnet, allowing me to observe a completely different culture.  I've deigned to create a short film that's completely foreign to me (both literally and metaphorically).   Why I've chosen to do this, I have no idea.  However, the more I dive into this project, the more captivating the story becomes.  

Human language is a tricky thing.  Two people who don't necessarily share the same language can have a completely intimate interaction.  A connection that's not formed through dialogue, but a human connection.  That's beautiful to me.  The words are important, yes.  But what's really relevant is the relationship --  real and fascinating.  

Je n'oublierai jamais les choses qui m'ont fait sourire autrefois.

Random Ramblings

It almost shames me to admit that I've been an American Idol watcher for a whopping 8 years.  That confession goes hand-in-hand with the fact that I'm an avid decoupage enthusiast, read PerezHilton.com daily, and actually enjoy dining at Chili's... (What? I like their chips and salsa...)  Anyway, ever since Kelly Clarkson donned the Idol crown, I've dedicated my Prime Time life to that of Simon Cowell and the gang.  I don't include Paula in the lineup since she's never entirely "there" either.

However, this season I've noticed that my AI obsession is dwindling and my attention span for reality shows equals that of the time it takes to drink a can of Diet Coke.  Fortunately, I've gotten into the habit of DVR-ing the episodes and fast-forwarding through 80% of it.  Wouldn't it be great if we had that luxury in life?  Traffic jams and blind dates wouldn't stand a chance.  

In fact, just this past week I went to a few networking mixers where I left the hoodie sweatshirt at home and packed the business cards in my back pocket.  With any social situation, it's inevitable that we encounter people we'd happily DVR straight through.  I met a few myself.  (Side note: I'm convinced wine is the networking equivalent of DVR.  Tune out.  Get out.)  Yet, this time I sailed on through -- swift and smiley.  I think I enjoy interacting with actors the best.  Little ego since we're on a different playing field (and I don't have to listen to the "film guy" drag on about the fact he's a tortured artist). 

What was I talking about?  Oh yeah, American Idol.  This is definitely one of my periodic babble-blogs.  I don't really have one coherent thought, but random ramblings that don't really make complete sense.

I'm drinking the Green Tea Frappacino from Starbucks.  It's like crack.

EDIT: Another side note.  My friend created this hilarious promo pic for our Vegas Vacation 2009.  Just the gays and our favorite artist.  Yes, that's Jennifer Hudson.  More evidence that my past Idol obsession has become widespread...

Fate Stepped In

It's a brand new day and the air has never been fuller. Circumstances have arisen that set a completely new cycle into motion. I won't bore anybody with the details, but it involves three things: More writing time. A new found energy. And a path that's inevitably better than yesterday's. (p.s. Who thought up the word "severance"? Or "sever" for that matter? The image of Jason Voorhees and a knife always comes to mind).

Anyway, I have a feeling that better opportunities are around the corner and my previous post concerning irrelevance is, well, irrelevant. It's time to put my metaphorical running shoes on, focus on my primary goal, and chase after my dreams.

I'll see you at the finish line.

SlumHOG Millionaire

It's that magical time of year again. The red carpet's been rolled out and the statuettes have been shined. Oscar Sunday is this weekend and I must admit, my enthusiasm is rather lackluster. Sure, I'm looking forward to the fashion, speeches, and the months of speculation being put to rest. However, this awards season has been anything but exciting -- primarily due to a little/big film called Slumdog Millionaire.

Don't get me wrong, this film is one of my top favorites this year. However, it's hogging every precursor award thus far extinguishing any possible build-up or anticipation for this Sunday's telecast. Slumdog mania has taken over! In fact, just yesterday I was driving on the 405 freeway, minding my own business, and my iPod frequency was interrupted by another driver passerby. Guess what he was listening to? The Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack.

Instead of posting my predictions like every Joe Shmo out there, I'll wish upon my lucky stars for potential upsets including:

- Best Cinematography - Claudio Miranda (Benjamin Button)

- Best Original Screenplay - Mike Leigh (Happy-Go-Lucky)

- Best Actress - Anne Hathaway

- Best Picture - Milk

Hey, no guts, no glory. Right?

Self-DiagNonsense

There's nothing like the seasonal slump. The sky seems foggier, the air seems more polluted, and the days drag on like a timeless universe. Or maybe it's just me. After a few weeks of dismal proportions and a conscious hiatus, I've decided to claw myself back into literary civilization. I must admit, it wasn't easy and it took almost every ounce of my effort, but I think I'm finally back. Well, for now at least.

However, this mental self-diagnosis didn't occur overnight. It took days of observation and countless hours of analysis to discover what was actually wrong with me. I'm at a stand-still. While I originally thought time was moving forward with me along for the ride, it seems time actually decided to leave me far behind. Waiting -- hoping -- needing some sort of change that will finally shake me from this common day monotony.

I know, I know. At twenty-four, I shouldn't expect much, if anything, to go exactly how I originally planned (especially in this industry, right?). However, it seems like the "routine" of my life has taken over any spontaneity and I feel trapped. Yes, trapped. I'm stuck in this dark corner where the realm of possibilities seem distant and the Groundhog Day effect seems inevitable.

Therefore, before I let this disorder get the best of me, I've decided to write myself my own prescription. A prescription that will allow me to break free from this entanglement and into something more fulfilling. A prescription that inspires instead of hinders. And finally, a prescription that involves some huge life changes (both professionally and personally) that will ultimately change me into the person I want to become.

I mean, I've come this far, right? What's another 50+ years?

I'm Puxatony ill...

Each year, like clockwork, I unfortunately encounter an inevitable time of year - the seasonal slump. I reach a point in my life where my lack of motivation meets spontaneous self-loathing and I lock myself in this uncomfortable rut. It's my own equivalent to PMS... but with less tampons. Which, in due part, explains my lack of blog posts.

Therefore, it probably comes as no surprise that I've been lacking inspiration. Perhaps I'm verging on exhaustion. Or maybe Los Angeles is wearing on me. Either way, I better shake things up quickly before I officially become cynical.

Fortunately, I have the ideas... I just need the motivation.

Motivation where are you?

Why have you left me so?

Come back.

My Top Ten ('09)

After countless hours at the cineplex, tons of popcorn consumed, and many movie passes used, I've finally been able to recap my favorite films of this past year. If you have even the slightest clue about me, you know that I'm a total list maker. I make lists when I go to the grocery store, pack a suitcase, and as a salute to 2008 -- My Top Ten Films of 2008.

10. Frost/Nixon

Upon entering the movie theatre, I wasn't really sure what to expect. I mean, the ingredients for this movie seemed all too perfect -- talented cast, Tony-Award winning play, rock star director. Yet, I still wasn't the least bit excited. If I wanted to watch a televised interview between a TV anchor and a politician, I'd have stayed home with Tina Fey and Amy Poeler. Then, without even a warning, a surprising thing happened on my way to the exit... I actually liked it. Not only was this film intriguing, but it was thoroughly entertaining. Who'd have thought a simple stage play between two talking heads could transform into such a nail biting political thriller.

9. The Dark Knight
Heath Ledger. Heath Ledger. Heath Ledger. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not a huge fan of the superhero franchise. In fact, I spent an entire summer interning at Marvel Studios where I was painfully swimming in a sea of weird cartoon magazines -- I think they're called comic books? Therefore, when I decided to jump on the highly publicized band wagon, I attempted to mask my inevitable skepticism with a forced calmness. ...And then a revelation. Heath Ledger graced the screen with an almost unrecognizable portrayal of the Joker and I was sold. Next stop: Oscar.

8. Sex and the City: The Movie

While most boys were counting down the days till the latest batman installment, I was anticipating a very different movie. Ever since Carrie Bradshaw packed up her Manolo Blahniks on HBO's hit comedy, I've been going through Sex withdrawals. Seriously, my palms were sweaty and I had the shakes! Then, after what felt like a decade, I saw it! Make no mistake, it wasn't the best picture ever made (and doesn't hold a candle near the series). However, like a drunken night after the Beta Kappa luau, it certainly was satisfying.

7. Doubt
Is there anything Meryl Streep can't do? I'm convinced that woman could portray William Howard Taft and still be nominated for an Oscar. As my previous blog expressively implies, I was beyond impressed with Michael Patrick Shanley's stage-to-screen adaptation. Everything from the writing to the performances deserves praise, especially having dealt with such a controversial subject matter. I have no, um, doubt that it'll get kudos come award season. By the way, that "doubt" pun never gets old. Okay, maybe it does....

6. Wall-E

Who knew robots could be this cute? I was under the impression that most robots were either terrifying (the Terminator), creepy (Hayley Joel Osment in 'A.I.') or gay (C-3PO). Yet, Wall-E proved that it doesn't take many characters or excessive dialogue to create a heartfelt story. Hell, I even rooted for the nasty-ass cockroach. Pixar proves once again that they're the masters behind well-made animation films. Now, if they could only make a film about a tape worm on a whimsical quest in a digestive tract...

5. Milk

"My name is Harvey Milk and I'm here to recruit you". Just hearing Sean Penn say these words sends a shiver down my spine. Initially, I walked into this film with relatively little knowledge of Harvey Milk. I knew he was a gay activist. I knew he was assassinated. Beyond that, I wasn't too familiar with his political background. Then, this 2 hour and 8 minute film did something I didn't expect... it became a stirring admonition on the participatory political process, and an unspoken incitement to get involved.

4. Rachel Getting Married

Have I ever mentioned that I'm an Anne Hathaway fan? It's true, I can't make this stuff up. Therefore, when I finally stumbled upon the trailer for this Jonathan Demme film, I was obviously elated. My favorite gal pal doing what she does best - acting! However, after screening the movie in its entirety, I discovered that it was much more than the Anne Hathaway show. The story was beautifully written and the film was well crafted. It was the best looking home video I've ever seen.

3. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Three hours is excruciatingly long for any movie. I coped through Titanic. I forgave all three Lord of the Rings. I suffered through King Long (er, Kong...). And it's safe to say that Australia and I aren't talking. Therefore, you can imagine my hesitation when I heard Button was another epic long film. Yet, somewhere between my hesitation and Brad Pitt's lips, I seem to have moved beyond any weariness and into complete awe. Having seen it twice, I can honestly say it's the best epic I've seen in years... with a Brad Pitt cherry on top.

2. Slumdog Millionaire

A little over 3 months ago, I was invited to a special screening of this movie. After one look at the poster, I dismissed the invitation assuming it revolved around some sort of marathon and its million dollar prize (Doesn't it look that way??). Little did I know, this film would eventually become a cinematic phenomenon and a Best Picture front runner. This is a prime example why someone should never judge a book, or movie, by its cover. Now if you don't mind, I must go put all my eggs in one basket, cross a bridge before I get there, and cry over spilt milk.

1. Happy-Go-Lucky

I'm not sure why, but I've gotten into the habit of choosing feel-good comedies as my favorite movies of the year. Two years ago, I picked Little Miss Sunshine. Last year, Juno. Now, I've gotten so blatantly obvious, I went and selected a film with happiness smack down in the title. Mike Leigh's film about an excessively peppy school teacher, named Poppy, did what so many films neglect to do -- open the audience's eyes. After seeing the film, I attempted to see the world the way Poppy does. Carefree and positive. However, after a mere two days, I aborted the experiment. I'm sorry, but I'm convinced Poppy was popping Percocet...

Anyway, I say in complete honesty, Happy-Go-Lucky is a film that deserves to be seen. Still feeling hesitant? Perhaps Poppy's worldview optimism is exactly what you need.

The Belfast Invasion

When the words 'house guests' are immediately mentioned, most people have the tendency to become stricken by instantaneous exhaustion, needless worrying, and an inevitable urge to be as hospitable as possible. Two weeks ago was no exception. Upon returning from Christmas break, I was introduced to a brand new clan of characters. Jessi, my alcoholic roommate, had previously spent an entire year in Ireland where she was fortunate enough to befriend a hand full of international natives. Being the devoted chums that they are, they packed their best vacation attire, braved the 10 hour transcontinental flight, and took America by storm.

Initially, I wasn't really prepared of what to expect. I mean, I've heard horror stories of the Irish. They're needlessly vicious, speak with almost undecipherable accents, and can drink circles around any Joe Shmo. However, after spending a significant amount of time with them, I was pleasantly proven wrong (well, except for the drinking part...)

Within the week, not only did I get to know each of them on an individual basis, friendships were actually developed. We talked. We ate. We even had a few drinks. Then, like the analytical inebriate I am, I started thinking about friendships. How many friends can you sincerely call "actual friends"? We all have acquaintances, we have old colleagues, school friends, frienemies, and stand-alone buddies. Yet, the friends we tend to connect with are few and far between. Ordinarily, it would take me a good chunk of time to develop a friendship. Genuine relationships aren't built on a whim, they need to be watered and nourished. It usually takes time for that mutual connection switch to click on. However, when opportunity meets wine, something rare can happen -- you can connect with someone instantly.

It can't be explained. Perhaps the planets were aligned and the universe took advantage of the moment. Perhaps the Irish have some sort of voodoo magic they smuggled into the U.S. (and by "magic", I mean whiskey). Or perhaps, as I make my way into a brand new year, my previous post proves true and I'm finally able to see life in a positive light.

Let's just hope that light lasts. I think it will. It has to.

2009's the New Black

This morning I had an epiphany. Perhaps it's because I've been hanging out with the Irish lately or maybe it's because I've had rose-colored glasses permanently implanted on my face. Either way, I've recently become consciously aware of my daily outlook on life. I've come to realize that every detail of my actions and second of my thoughts correlates to a certain preconceived outcome. Sheesh, I'm like a freakin' billboard for The Secret! However, I believe they actually have something there ("secret", my ass).

As the New Year kicks off in full gear, I've encountered a myriad of people proclaiming that 2009's gonna "kick 2008's butt". They admit 2008 was undeniably miserable and have positive hopes for the future. Well, that's all fine and dandy, but how positive can anyone be starting a new year when their memories of the last is tainted? That's a lot of unnecessary baggage to be carrying around, don't you think?

I'm not saying I'm any better. A year ago I posted a blog that fits seamlessly within the accused. I was all too eager to say, "fuck you 2007" and expect 2008 to treat me any better. Therefore, I'm taking action. I'm learning from my mistakes and taking the proverbial high road. Wow, look at that.... I must be growing up.

So, 2008: Thank you for a fantastic year. We've had quite the journey. Though you've posed a lot of obstacles and challenges, I've gained more than you could possibly know. I've appreciated every second you've given me. And now, as I carefully tuck my memories into my traveling suitcase, I must bid you farewell. A new year has arrived and she's calling out to me.

Happy New Year. Here's to good health and the days.

Year-in-Review

Can you believe a whole year has gone by? It feels like just yesterday I purchased my Manduka high performance yoga mat half-off from Target (only to be untouched for 11 months...). Now, 2009 has snuck out of nowhere and I'm confronted with the inevitable resolutionatory question. I find that New Years is front-loaded with arbitrary expectations that tend to disappoint. How many times can one person swear the oath of exercise?

However, I had a good time last year. I met a few friends, had a drink or two, and avoided waking up in a stranger's bedroom. That's grounds for celebration! In fact, I'm banking on a similar finale this year...

On another note, I'm über excited to take down my Christmas decorations. In all actuality, I tend to think of my roommates as yuletide bulimics. They tend to go inappropriately overboard on the paper snowflakes, ornaments, etc. In fact, I've purposely avoided the front room in fear of becoming momentarily blind. Yes. It's true.

Okay, resolutions: Last year, I made a resolution to purchase a 3-piece suit for the obligatory job interview. However, the closest I came to a suit was a $10 jumper from Buffalo Exchange. Does that count? I did, though, make good on a few other resolutions. Screenplay. Check. Website. Check. Read two books a month. 1/2 check. Treat myself more. Double check.

My 2008: Expensive.

This year, I resolve to fix any mistakes I made last year, try my hand at that contraption called a stove, and find a boy (easier said...). I will write more. And I'm gonna shoot for the friggin' stars if it kills me (John Glenn, watch out!).

And this, my friends, was random babbling from yours truly. Hey, I had to start off the year somehow....

Christmas - Shaken. Not stirred.

When the stress of the Holidays become unbearably monotonous and the world around me transforms into a destructive minefield congested with deranged Christmas shoppers, it seems likely (if not necessary) to attend a fabulous party.  This past Saturday night, I dusted off my favorite festive sweater, grabbed a bottle of Chardonnay, and headed over to my friend's annual Christmas gathering.  Amidst the crowded room, I noticed that this soiree wasn't your typical yuletide get-together.  Sure, Christmas tunes played from a nearby stereo while the cater waiters handed out tasty hors d'oeuvres.  However, something still felt "off".  Upon further investigation, I discovered that professional "Industry types" were the primary source of people in the room and their assertive personalities exuded just that.  You know what I'm talking about, vodka-guzzling agents and their twenty-something girlfriends. 

Yet, these agents, managers, and PR reps weren't the ones that irked me.  In fact, they were actually the ones who inspired the more honest conversations.  It wasn't until later when a reality television producer showed up with his boy-band entourage (twenty years his junior).  That's when my curiosity really kicked in.  It was like half the November Abercrombie ad walked through the door -- each guy maintaining a quality of external perfection and beauty.  I even noticed two of them checking themselves out in a nearby mirror... (Um, those egos aren't gonna build themselves).  It was obvious that these guys were tagging along for networking purposes, but when does it stop being socially acceptable and start being seen as exploitation?

It got me thinking.  Living in Los Angeles, everybody's out for themselves.  It's impossible to come across a person without catching on to their own personal agendas.  With that in mind, were these Zoolander impersonators simply playing the game or merely abusing their narcissistic power?  How far is too far until the old adage, "when you got it flaunt it", proves to be untrue?  As someone involved in the "industry game" myself, I was always taught to do what I know, never hold back, and keep pushing forward.  Therefore, aren't I doing the same thing?  Doesn't all forms of art require some sort of exploitation?  Sure, what I'm flaunting may not be disguised with perfectly toned six-packed abs and smoldering features, but I'm in the very same boat they are.  I think we all are. 

Perhaps this Nation isn't that different from Los Angeles.  We all have our own personal agendas secretly tucked away in our back pockets.   We all can see the light at the end of the tunnel.  And finally, as we move through this adventure we call 'life', we have our own egos that need a little assisting.  Ours just may be a little bit more towards the left.

Blogiversary

Call off the search parties and wipe your foreheads, I'm alive. Barely. As we approach this upcoming week, I've become overwhelmingly bombarded with yuletide obligations. From Holiday shopping to annual Christmas parties, this month has become a seasonal poo-poo platter of merriment and debt. I'm just doing my part to bolster the national economic index (and relieve a little guilt...)

Anyways, this time of year also marks another monumental occasion. Just one year ago, I started writing this little blog as an outlet for my thoughts and frustrations. Most of which sparked by my life here in Los Angeles. Suffice to say, a lot has changed in a year. I've matured as a person while maintaining an air of innocence that often becomes jaded from living in this big city. Hopefully, the next year will be just as eventful and memorable as the last one.

In honor of my first post ever, I'd like to give a shout-out to Nutcracker Jack. He and I would like to wish everyone a Happy Holiday. May your Christmas be merry and gay... with extra rum-spiked eggnog of course...

Oscar on the Brain

Do you hear that? Listen closely. If you stand completely still, you'll hear the sound of 28 Oscars being created. Yes, that's right. Awards season has kicked off in full force and, like every other movie junkie, I've jumped on to the highly-obsessive band wagon. Like most cinephiles, I also have a list of projected filmmakers, writers, and actors I expect to be announced nomination morning. However, every year I grip tightly onto the idea that certain personal favorites would appease my addiction and ultimately make the Academy's shortlist.

In 2006, I was on team Devil Wears Prada. It was inevitable that Queen Meryl would get a nomination, but screenwriter Aline Brosh McKenna and costume designer Patricia Field's fate seemed less likely. Fortunately, the latter clinched the Oscar Nod while Aline wasn't as lucky.

Then, in 2007, I began a short lived love affair with Diablo Cody. Need I say more?

This year, as the Christmas season approaches, I have merely three names on my Santa wish list:

1. Anne Hathaway - The buzz surrounding her performance, not to mention her early precursor awards, has almost guaranteed a nomination. Believe me, nothing would make me happier than to be able say, "Oscar nominee (winner?) Anne Hathaway".

2. Claudio Miranda - Or better known as the Director of Photography for The Curious Case of Benjamin Buttons. He's an amazingly talented cinematographer and the film looks terrific. Not to mention, we represent him, so that doesn't hurt...

3. Regina Spektor (for writing 'The Call') - She's one of my favorite singers/artists out there. Her voice is spectacular and if she doesn't get nominated for this award-worthy song, so help me God....

Oh, and Milk winning Best Picture wouldn't hurt either....

That's Not My Name

While in high school, through the thick of homework and extra curricular activities, I worked as a server at a local retirement community. Park Regency was its name, and assisted living and skilled nursing services was its game. Anyway, once 6th period let out, I'd throw my apron on, jump in my '93 Infiniti G20, and head to work ready to take the elderly by storm. I'd show up promptly at 4pm as if the weight of the world fell on my shoulders. Okay, not really. Unless you consider evening dinner detrimental to the universe (Which, incidentally, some of the residents did...).

In all honesty, these people were some of the most interesting people I've ever met. Their stories. Their history. Their jokes! One of my favorite residents, Mr. Diello, would shuffle in the dining room as he leaned against his brass walker, and shoot me a disgruntled stare. I'd approach him eagerly and ask, "Good evening Mr. Diello, where would you like to sit?". He'd reply, "On the roof! Is there room on the roof?!" LoLoL, oh Mr. Diello...... I guess you needed to be there.....

Unfortunately, for my entire "career" at Park Regency, the residents had a problem with calling me by my actual name -- Elias. Perhaps their hearing aids were purposely turned down, but they seemed to always forget the 'S' and mistake it for a 'T'. Therefore, my serving name was permanently "Elliot" and I was subsequently always asked to "phone home". Uh, childhood trauma much? I'm pretty sure that's why I go by Eli now...

Blast from the Past - Part 5

Yet another embarrassing journal entry from my collegiate days. Seriously, what was my damage? This doesn't even make sense! And to be frank, I'm actually a little hesitant to re-post this...

Monkey 1: "What was Eli writing about?" Monkey 2: "I have no idea."

When did humans develop language? Are the origins of language lost in the mist of time, or does science provide us with some clues as to how this ability appeared? To me, it seems that language appeared out of nowhere, since no other species has anything resembling human language. Therefore, it wasn’t surprising when another language recently emerged at the University of Arizona – a language I like to call The Sex Code.

Now, I'm certainly not a specialist of linguistics (nor lingaystics), but in a world where communication is key in any relationship, how can we be so sure we're speaking the same language. Think about it, how many times have our words been tangled in the dating web? It’s a peculiar world out there. Since when does the phrase, ‘let’s be friends’ translate to ‘I want you!’.

Seriously, this form of miscommunication is often exemplified within this theatre major. I’m a huge advocate on friendship and networking, however it’s hard to approach any egotistical college student without being presumably judged for "hitting on them". In the world of relationships, do we need a translator or are we just left to be stared at like a gaylien?

Well, luckily there is a solution to this verbal mishap and a key to unlock this Sex Code. I've learned to simply learn the dating lingo, separate my networks from those I'm actually interested in, and always be myself. I’ve also learned, if someone likes me, they should be able to directly say it out loud – any form of deciphering shouldn't be a problem.

The human language has always been a complicated issue in today’s dating society. Why does it have to be this difficult? Fortunately for us, this lingo isn’t necessarily a road block to happiness. There's a way around this bewildering language and, as we become more accustomed to it, this Code will hopefully get lost in the mist of time.

Giving Thanks

With Thanksgiving just around the corner, I've thought extensively about what I'm personally thankful for in my life. Obviously, my family, friends, and health deserve my primary gratitude, but with all that the world has to offer, it seems foolish not to be thankful for so much more.

This Universe is filled with all kinds of people. Big, small, tall, short, dark, light, old, young - each distinguished with a unique look and personality. Neighborhoods are filled with an array of diverse characters waiting to be written in the pages of their own book. Therefore, as I walk these sidewalks and pass by complete strangers, I can't help but appreciate the subtle nuances they have to offer. Their smiles. Their laughs. Their walks. Their stances. Their frustrations. Their tears. Each embodying the tiniest of details that are too distinct to be written -- if not imagined.

So, yes, I'm thankful for strangers. Complete strangers. Unknown men and women that haven't directly entered my life, but have ultimately entered my thoughts.

The following video was created by Crush & Lovely, a group of filmmakers who asked one question, and elicited a multitude of responses -- not to mention some of those subtle personality traits I've grown so fond of....

Back to Reality

For most people in this recession-filled world, the movie theatre is regarded as a far-off retreat created to distract the mind (and the pocketbook). A sanctuary where people flock towards when the horrors of this economy and frustrations of primetime television become exceedingly overwhelming. Therefore, it took me by surprise when my latest venture to the movies turned out to be anything but an escape from reality.

Last Sunday, I arrived at the Academy building bright and early where I was eager to catch a screening of Sam Mendes' Revolutionary Road. I didn't really have any expectations for the film, despite the rekindling of my childhood infatuations - Jack and Rose (i.e. my earliest inclination for a bonafide threesome...). Anyways, the movie itself was lackluster. Meaning, it lacked any real depth since Mendes, being the theatre director he is, puts everything out on the table for everyone to see. It lacked subtly - a directing trait that's definitely not one of his strengths. And although Kate and Leo did a commendable job and will undoubtedly get nominated for an Oscar (more so Kate, than Leo...), they lacked any real humility. I felt they yelled through the whole thing. Come on people, why not just get a freakin' divorce?!

Sorry, I got distracted. This wasn't meant to be a review. Back to the story. As the movie reached its final 10 minutes, the audience was pulled from their cinematic trance due to a sudden wheezing. At first I thought the tension from this movie proved too much for an emotional viewer. As I peered back from my seat, I noticed someone had rendered themselves completely unconscious.

Suddenly, the lights flickered on, the film turned off, and everyone centered their attention around this person. It appeared she was experiencing a seizure. Coincidentally, nobody had their cell phones on them because they're prohibited from the screening room. Thankfully, some disobedient woman pulled her blackberry from her purse and called an ambulance.

Once the immediate shock wore off, the woman was treated by paramedics and taken to a nearby hospital (and according to sources, she's made a full recovery). That being said, you must put yourselves in our shoes. Revolutionary Road isn't a movie for the light hearted. It's a depressing film. Hell, it makes American Beauty look like a romantic comedy. This real-life incident only elevated the intensity and melodrama of the story. Like I said... de-press-ing.

In the end, however, the Academy thanked us for our cooperation and allowed us to finish the film. Now, mind you, before the unfortunate incident, we had just finished the saddest part in the entire movie. Therefore, according to them, it made perfectly good sense to rewind it five minutes prior so we can relive that moment once again. Joy...!

Once the emotional dust cleared, I was left with a foul taste in my mouth . Revolutionary Road wasn't the cup of tea I had expected, but I believe that's because of the unintentional fusion of reality and "fantasy". It was tainted. But now that a few days have passed and I'm able to absorb the film in its entirety, perhaps I should re-evaluate my initial reaction. Or, dare I say, see the movie again?

Maybe I will -- this time I'll just be sure to have extra Kleenex, a paper bag, and a sedative handy.

Doubt Review

This past Sunday, while most Americans received their familiar football fix, I was fortunate to be treated to a double dosage of movie magic. Sunday morning, I braved the morning dew to attend an Academy screening of Sam Mendes' Revolutionary Road (more to come). However, my weekend didn't really begin until that evening when I experienced John Patrick Shanley's wonderfully adapted Doubt. In fact, the studio even set up a panel of the crew consisting of director/writer Shanley, cinematographer Roger Deakins, editor Dylan Tichenor, production designer David Gropman, costume designer Ann Roth, and composer rock star Howard Shore.

For those not completely familiar with the stage-to-screen storyline, Doubt centers on Sister Aloysius Beauvier (Meryl Streep) who becomes increasingly suspicious of Father Flynn's relationship with the school's first black student. While I admit to not having seen the stage version (shameful, I know), I must confess that I was instantly drawn to Shanley's impeccable writing style. Just a tiny reminder, this is the man who wrote Joe Versus the Volcano... I'm just sayin'. With precision, humility, and an intentionally interwoven wit, he made this screenplay seem almost effortless. It's no wonder why he racked up all the theatre awards three years back.

Anyways, when asked what compelled him to transfer the play into a film, Shanley quipped "When they asked me to make it". And thank God they did! If they hadn't, he wouldn't have been able to compile a cast of actors that made this dialogue seem as fluid as my Uncle Richard's drunken slurs. According to Shanley, "I hired Meryl Streep because I wanted to see what she would do". He added, "I then hired Phillip Seymour Hoffman because I knew he'd make [Streep] work like a dog". And boy did he ever! I wouldn't be surprised if Hoffman, Streep, and the talented Viola Davis heard their names announced nomination morning.

Speaking of Streep... it was inevitable she was going to provide a powerhouse performance. That was obvious. However, it wasn't clear how much conviction and sincere detail she would devote to Sister Aloysius. According to Roth, Streep was so invested in this character, she and an on-set seamstress had a contest to see who could finish knitting a shawl first. As a result, the winner's design would eventually be used in the film (Wow, that's so Project Runway!). To nobody's surprise, Streep was in and the seamstress was out. What can I say? Meryl's a master at creating the most meaty character traits and her subtext is undeniably second nature. Once the film rolled its last credit, I waved dismissively and declared, "just give her the Oscar now".

All in all, this film ultimately dives into the tension between unbending principle and the call for compassion and human understanding. It reaches far beyond 1964, and can be thematically related to the current changing times of today.

That being said, I'm optimistic critics will latch on to this film, and even more assured audiences will as well. In fact, afterwards I was asked if I thought this film had a chance at a Best Picture nomination, and without any hesitation I adamantly replied... "I have no doubt".

I guess we'll have to wait and see....

New York City: Day 5

I'm not much of a traveler.  In fact, I can probably count the places I've visited on one hand.   I'm embarrassed to admit I've never even traveled internationally.... I don't even own a passport!  Therefore, New York was more than just a mere vacation.  It was actually a life experience.   Although I've visited the Big Apple before,  I can honestly say I never grow tired of its culture.  The people, history, and architecture are awe-inspiring and I can definitely guarantee residency in the future.  

Anyways, the last day of New York Vacay 2008 ended as memorable as it began.  After visiting tourist must-sees like the Statue of Liberty, Ground Zero, and Little Italy (The food there was fantastic... thanks to our new friend Tony "Soprano"), we dressed to the nines, threw caution to the wind, and painted the town red.  

We grabbed dinner at an ultra-touristy restaurant where the food was expensive and the waiters busted out in song.  At first, the performances were  entertaining (it was homo-palooza in there).  However, after a failed attempt of Defying Gravity, I had just about enough.  We stuffed the $20 veggie burgers in our mouths, threw down our "hard earned" cash, and booked it to see the amazingly brilliant musical In the Heights.

It goes without saying that this experience was undeniably memorable.  The itinerary was filled with surreal opportunities, spectacular sites, and also a drink or two...  However, what really made this vacation great were the people I spent it with.  Monica, Lisa, Jessi, and Sarah have always been fantastic amigos (and even better accessories).  They're continuously there for me when the times get tough, they never cease to make me laugh, and to be able to have this opportunity to share such a spectacular city with them... well, that was just fabulous. 

That being said, I have one final message for my estranged lover named New York... we shared a beautiful week together and you did not disappoint me.  You made me feel complete (and, at times, confused)  But, alas, I must bid you farewell.  Adieu my love.  I take comfort that this isn't a permanent goodbye, but a brief 'until later'.  I promise you.... you have not seen the last of me! :)