How much of blogging is actually egotistical?
I was thinking about this today for no particular reason, wondering how you can even tell this in the first place. I imagine there's someone out there who's created a macro to go through a web page and count all the times a person begins their post with "I..." or even uses it in a post. It's hard not to use it though, so maybe it's more along the lines of "I think..." or "I am..." Is this crazy talk?
At any rate, it really dawns on me (yes, it finally has) how much the blog itself has changed how many people interact with each other. No doubt, it's useful for those across great distances to keep up with each other by having a daily/weekly/monthly journal, but it's become known for so much more. Artists use it as an online portfolio, writers use it as an easy publishing tool, and many places are using it as an online magazine of sorts. The largest percentage of all these though, has to be the personal "day in the life of..." variety.
So what makes it an egotistical practice? For instance, is my review of Snow Crash a practice in ego-stroking? Does it really matter what I think of a piece of science-fiction? There's no way I can pass judgment on myself and be fair, so perhaps it is. Perhaps egotistical blogging is in the eye of the beholder. I wrote a while back about the "woe is me" post and the "fabulous life of..." post, somewhere in there is a little bit of ego trying to pop out.
While I suppose there's a shred of ego inherent in having a blog in the first place, there must also be some humility to reign it in. It makes me wonder though, when one receives many hits, subscribers, trackbacks, comments, or whatever self-validating cookie you search for, is it just enabling the ego to rear its ugly head in the first place.
Please, I hope I never get to that level. Ugh.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
Listen to Reason
I've been on a reading tear the last couple of months. Mostly, because of before and after I was sick, I've finished three books. Two of which I've written about already. Now, I'm done and ready to talk about another.
Snow Crash, by Neal Stephenson, published in 1992 is eerily prophetic, even for a science fiction novel. Seeing that the novel itself is set amongst a technology dominated corporate society in the far-flung future, there are some very wild ideas, but not all of them are that far out there. Maybe that's why I found it to be so enthralling. That and you never know what's going to happen from scene to scene.
Mr. Stephenson wastes no time in setting his scene. From the beginning, we meet Hiro Protagonist who lives modestly as a pizza delivery man and largely as an elite samurai hacker. When not dishing out pie after pie from his mafia-supplied vehicle, Hiro spends his time plugged in to the Metaverse that he and his friends helped create. The Metaverse in question is an idealized internet playground, which innocently enough, is soon to be set upon by a malicious corporate induced virus. Finding the key to its origins and cure is only half of the story of Hiro and company, the journey is infinitely more interesting than any paragraph can convey.
So where is this prophesy? Is it the Second Life-ish nature of the Metaverse that Mr. Stephenson describes? Is it in the corporate lifestyle center type burbclaves that society functions in? Is it in the disaffected general populace looking for a new sense of purpose and belief? Is it in the self-replicating nature of faith and software? Frankly, it appears to be in all of these and this is what I liked mostly about the book: its diverse and knowledgeable juggling of multiple technosociological themes. There are actions, but most often, these actions have cultural consequences. Secondly, Mr. Stephenson's language isn't superfluous or grandiose, it's descriptive for the contemporary eye. With all that goes on in this book, you'd think it would be repetitive or boring, but I found it deadly fascinating.
There's really a lot more to this book than I can ever feel fit to describe in one simple post, but feel free to hit me up for a discussion if you must. Maybe you'll feel inspired to read it too.
Snow Crash, by Neal Stephenson, published in 1992 is eerily prophetic, even for a science fiction novel. Seeing that the novel itself is set amongst a technology dominated corporate society in the far-flung future, there are some very wild ideas, but not all of them are that far out there. Maybe that's why I found it to be so enthralling. That and you never know what's going to happen from scene to scene.
Mr. Stephenson wastes no time in setting his scene. From the beginning, we meet Hiro Protagonist who lives modestly as a pizza delivery man and largely as an elite samurai hacker. When not dishing out pie after pie from his mafia-supplied vehicle, Hiro spends his time plugged in to the Metaverse that he and his friends helped create. The Metaverse in question is an idealized internet playground, which innocently enough, is soon to be set upon by a malicious corporate induced virus. Finding the key to its origins and cure is only half of the story of Hiro and company, the journey is infinitely more interesting than any paragraph can convey.
So where is this prophesy? Is it the Second Life-ish nature of the Metaverse that Mr. Stephenson describes? Is it in the corporate lifestyle center type burbclaves that society functions in? Is it in the disaffected general populace looking for a new sense of purpose and belief? Is it in the self-replicating nature of faith and software? Frankly, it appears to be in all of these and this is what I liked mostly about the book: its diverse and knowledgeable juggling of multiple technosociological themes. There are actions, but most often, these actions have cultural consequences. Secondly, Mr. Stephenson's language isn't superfluous or grandiose, it's descriptive for the contemporary eye. With all that goes on in this book, you'd think it would be repetitive or boring, but I found it deadly fascinating.
There's really a lot more to this book than I can ever feel fit to describe in one simple post, but feel free to hit me up for a discussion if you must. Maybe you'll feel inspired to read it too.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
The Problem with Orange County
Yes, I'm from there. Yes, I grew up a little differently than those who live in the nicer parts of Orange County and even those who live in what some people consider to be the slums of Orange County. I'd like to think that I've shed most of what some people consider to be the Orange Curtain by living a few years up North and by living in Los Angeles for a while now, but in some sense, OC is still familiar enough to be "home."
Which is why it makes me sick when I read the comments left by a few citizens of Orange County in this article.
Initially, the article piqued my interest, given that the incident it mentions takes place at one of my favorite taquerias in Costa Mesa, but reading the reaction of certain people to this incident makes me sick to my stomach. If it isn't because of the blatant racism and ignorance pasted about the comments, it's because I'm not surprised people in OC feel entitled enough to make comments like this.
Personally, my experience with racism is very limited. I will always remember the feeling in my stomach when my mother told me how someone in line at Mervyn's told her to "Go back to Mexico." I remember how angry she was and how defiant she was in the face of egregious insult. What's more, I remember how proud I was of my mother to not let such an affront stand and she proceeded to slap the offending party in front of everyone else at the store. It taught me two things: 1. Always stand up and be proud of where you come from and 2. People like this can exist in your own backyard.
Obviously, these comments constitute number 2 and here I am, trying to uphold number 1.
Orange County, which was built on the groves of oranges, the oil fields of Huntington Beach, and the backs of my people, still has this element that existed 20 years ago when my mother took a stand for herself in that store. Sure, the crime that was committed really overshadows a much bigger problem in the community, but shouldn't that be the bigger issue than race? Sadly enough, for these people it never will be, since all they can see are their own Orange Curtains staring back at them.
Please, take a moment and write a letter to the writer of this article, Kimberly Edds, and even if you can, send one to the editor of the Orange County Register.
Which is why it makes me sick when I read the comments left by a few citizens of Orange County in this article.
Initially, the article piqued my interest, given that the incident it mentions takes place at one of my favorite taquerias in Costa Mesa, but reading the reaction of certain people to this incident makes me sick to my stomach. If it isn't because of the blatant racism and ignorance pasted about the comments, it's because I'm not surprised people in OC feel entitled enough to make comments like this.
Personally, my experience with racism is very limited. I will always remember the feeling in my stomach when my mother told me how someone in line at Mervyn's told her to "Go back to Mexico." I remember how angry she was and how defiant she was in the face of egregious insult. What's more, I remember how proud I was of my mother to not let such an affront stand and she proceeded to slap the offending party in front of everyone else at the store. It taught me two things: 1. Always stand up and be proud of where you come from and 2. People like this can exist in your own backyard.
Obviously, these comments constitute number 2 and here I am, trying to uphold number 1.
Orange County, which was built on the groves of oranges, the oil fields of Huntington Beach, and the backs of my people, still has this element that existed 20 years ago when my mother took a stand for herself in that store. Sure, the crime that was committed really overshadows a much bigger problem in the community, but shouldn't that be the bigger issue than race? Sadly enough, for these people it never will be, since all they can see are their own Orange Curtains staring back at them.
Please, take a moment and write a letter to the writer of this article, Kimberly Edds, and even if you can, send one to the editor of the Orange County Register.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Mi Familia
Here we are in the middle of April. The weather's clearing up, the skies are parting, and maybe there's enough sun to start wearing shorts on the weekends. Shorts and sandals, is there anything more typically Californian?
It's about this time of year - specifically April - where I start thinking about my Summer goals and more immediately, about the inevitable Cinco de Mayo celebration. Normally, I take this time to think and prepare at least one new recipe for the shindig, which is pretty much how I spent most of my Easter Sunday.
The recipe will go unnamed (to protect the innocent), but what I took away from it is something I wanted to express more fully. My intention from the outset of planning the Cinco De Mayo menu, aside from making sure everything is somewhat edible, is to include a lot of my family in everything that I do. Traditionally, this dictates that the majority of the recipes are passed-down from my grandparents, to my parents, to me. This year, I picked something a little more traditional and maybe a little more daunting.
What can I say, I'm a sucker for punishment.
Luckily, I had my mom and my grandfather around this weekend to help out and supervise. While one of my favorite memories of my grandmother is her cooking every Saturday morning when we'd visit, I always remember how much time and care she took when she was at that stove. Same goes for my grandfather and the deliberate way he would cut every single piece of meat for any meal. I took this to heart, and it brought a smile to my face when my grandfather took one taste of the finished product and smiled.
It's this recipe, most of all, that I treasure. It reminded me that I have to remember where I come from, I have to remember where my parents came from, and most of all, I have to remember where our people came from. As we sat there and looked at the old molcajete my mother had, you could see how much it had been used and passed down from person to person. Although it no doubt started as a strong and grainy piece of volcanic rock, it was smooth and weathered from use; there were bits of seasoning, spice and herb crammed within each crevice; most of all, it looked older than anyone sitting at that table.
So when I'm cooking a family recipe, it really brings it all to heart what this time of year really means to me, in a much greater way than any tequila shot ever would. In this sense, I hope that everyone really enjoys what I can try and bring to the table, and in the hope that one day, I will be able to teach my children the exact same thing.
It's about this time of year - specifically April - where I start thinking about my Summer goals and more immediately, about the inevitable Cinco de Mayo celebration. Normally, I take this time to think and prepare at least one new recipe for the shindig, which is pretty much how I spent most of my Easter Sunday.
The recipe will go unnamed (to protect the innocent), but what I took away from it is something I wanted to express more fully. My intention from the outset of planning the Cinco De Mayo menu, aside from making sure everything is somewhat edible, is to include a lot of my family in everything that I do. Traditionally, this dictates that the majority of the recipes are passed-down from my grandparents, to my parents, to me. This year, I picked something a little more traditional and maybe a little more daunting.
What can I say, I'm a sucker for punishment.
Luckily, I had my mom and my grandfather around this weekend to help out and supervise. While one of my favorite memories of my grandmother is her cooking every Saturday morning when we'd visit, I always remember how much time and care she took when she was at that stove. Same goes for my grandfather and the deliberate way he would cut every single piece of meat for any meal. I took this to heart, and it brought a smile to my face when my grandfather took one taste of the finished product and smiled.
It's this recipe, most of all, that I treasure. It reminded me that I have to remember where I come from, I have to remember where my parents came from, and most of all, I have to remember where our people came from. As we sat there and looked at the old molcajete my mother had, you could see how much it had been used and passed down from person to person. Although it no doubt started as a strong and grainy piece of volcanic rock, it was smooth and weathered from use; there were bits of seasoning, spice and herb crammed within each crevice; most of all, it looked older than anyone sitting at that table.
So when I'm cooking a family recipe, it really brings it all to heart what this time of year really means to me, in a much greater way than any tequila shot ever would. In this sense, I hope that everyone really enjoys what I can try and bring to the table, and in the hope that one day, I will be able to teach my children the exact same thing.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Ordinary People
Since the wedding's coming up this year, concert madness is at an all-time low. We've been to maybe two shows so far this year, but I think this time last year we'd been to at least four, save the fact that there was another planned real soon ( Coachella, damn you). Anytime we can get out for some music though, I consider a good thing.
So there we were, on Friday, driving out to the Gibson Amphitheater at Universal Studios to watch the jazz/soul/pop sensation Corinne Bailey Rae and the R & B machine that is John Legend. Both are a part of a new crop of singer-songwriters really re-imagining the typical cross-over artist. Not that the songs they perform are overly pop, but more in the sense that the music they create is soulful, danceable, and sweet. That last adjective more aptly describes Ms. Rae, truthfully, but that's most obvious from the sound of her voice.
As an opening act, you can't do any worse than Corinne Bailey Rae. Really, her performance was surprising as I expected more jazzy, breezy tunes in line with her hit single "Put Your Records On" and instead was met with a good set really showcasing how subtle and powerful her voice really is. What drove it home for me though was her friendly and genuine stage presence. As much success as she's had thus far, it's refreshing to have someone perform who is as humble and engaging as Ms. Rae. Maybe I'll ask Grace to let me borrow the album.
After a 30-minute break (and a somewhat late start) John Legend's band took to the stage and kicked off what would be a raucous spectacle. Staying away from this biggest hits for the good majority of the set, Mr. Legend's show was intensely theatrical. We even made a game of it partway through the first five or so songs, compiling a storyline thusly:
What I really liked about his songs is that they aren't your normal love story of loss and redemption, but basically told through the eyes of a one-time lothario. Granted, Mr. Legend may have all this experience or not, but it's not all tongue-in-cheek nor as sleazy as an R. Kelly track. If anything, I likened him to Bobby Brown in his dance moves. He put on one heck of a show and even had a message at the very end with his new Show Me Campaign.
As individuals, both artists made a great impression, but as a team, this show really brought the house down. I haven't seen this many people dancing in their seats in quite some time (well, I haven't been to that many R & B or pop shows really) and it was great to see everyone really enjoying not just the music, but the show as a whole. As entertaining as it was, it really was above all, impressive.
So there we were, on Friday, driving out to the Gibson Amphitheater at Universal Studios to watch the jazz/soul/pop sensation Corinne Bailey Rae and the R & B machine that is John Legend. Both are a part of a new crop of singer-songwriters really re-imagining the typical cross-over artist. Not that the songs they perform are overly pop, but more in the sense that the music they create is soulful, danceable, and sweet. That last adjective more aptly describes Ms. Rae, truthfully, but that's most obvious from the sound of her voice.
As an opening act, you can't do any worse than Corinne Bailey Rae. Really, her performance was surprising as I expected more jazzy, breezy tunes in line with her hit single "Put Your Records On" and instead was met with a good set really showcasing how subtle and powerful her voice really is. What drove it home for me though was her friendly and genuine stage presence. As much success as she's had thus far, it's refreshing to have someone perform who is as humble and engaging as Ms. Rae. Maybe I'll ask Grace to let me borrow the album.
After a 30-minute break (and a somewhat late start) John Legend's band took to the stage and kicked off what would be a raucous spectacle. Staying away from this biggest hits for the good majority of the set, Mr. Legend's show was intensely theatrical. We even made a game of it partway through the first five or so songs, compiling a storyline thusly:
Boy meets girl in relationship
Boy has an affair with girl
Boy breaks up with girl
Boy pleads for her to return
Boy gets girl back
Boy tells girl there in it for the long run
Boy has an affair with girl
Boy breaks up with girl
Boy pleads for her to return
Boy gets girl back
Boy tells girl there in it for the long run
What I really liked about his songs is that they aren't your normal love story of loss and redemption, but basically told through the eyes of a one-time lothario. Granted, Mr. Legend may have all this experience or not, but it's not all tongue-in-cheek nor as sleazy as an R. Kelly track. If anything, I likened him to Bobby Brown in his dance moves. He put on one heck of a show and even had a message at the very end with his new Show Me Campaign.
As individuals, both artists made a great impression, but as a team, this show really brought the house down. I haven't seen this many people dancing in their seats in quite some time (well, I haven't been to that many R & B or pop shows really) and it was great to see everyone really enjoying not just the music, but the show as a whole. As entertaining as it was, it really was above all, impressive.
Monday, April 09, 2007
I Don't See Nothin' Wrong...
After a fine sampling of local brew and a hearty lunch, Saturday was on its merry way to the ultimate cinematical viewing for the year so far in Grindhouse. Although there was a paltry showing at the weekend box office, that really belies the quality of the film and I really question why it could be that no one would pony up and march out to what is the most entertaining 3 hours of film to date.
Seriously, 3 hours!
What you have here is a film spliced together with baleen wire by Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino in a sort of love letter to the movies of their youth and no doubt to the movies that inspired them to make their films of such flavor. My theory, Easter weekend was a bad weekend to release the gorefest of utter tastelessness that we witnessed on celluloid. And that's most likely a compliment coming from yours truly.
A double feature, just like the days of old, Grindhouse is in two parts a zombie movie and an automotive thriller intermissioned by some tongue-in-cheek coming attractions only the minds of Rob Zombie, Edgar Wright, and Eli Roth could imagine. Rodriguez' flick, Planet Terror, is the zombie flick in question, which is less zombie than it is biological atrocity. One can tell that Rodriguez really lived and breathed this stuff when he was younger and it pays out with buckets of graphically horrifying karo syrup. Limbs are lost, decapitations abound, and more than a few times I found myself squirming a bit, but at the same time I couldn't help laughing at how ridiculous the entire thing really was. Underneath all of it, however, is a true love for those low-budget cheese-fests I expected to see splattered onscreen. Grade A.
I'll say little of the trailers in between, but I will say that I will never look at poultry the same way again.
Switching the proverbial gear (no pun intended), Tarantino really does up quite a film in the second act. It slows things down a bit much, to tell the truth, but the majority of it is really QT doing what he does best in setting up one heck of a payoff. There is such buildup in all the dialog-heavy scenery of Death Proof that one really starts to question if Tarantino was being over-indulgent, but you truly get lost in the words enough to not mind. While Rodriguez does a great service in a classic Grindhouse monstrosity, Tarantino deconstructs it plainfully. It's gratuitous, yes, but there's more heart and soul here than I ever expected. What's more, it contains one of the most heart-pumping car chases onscreen within the last decade. Many props to the actresses in this film and a special thumbs up to a very game Kurt Russell, something tells me him and Tarantino have more work yet to do.
So in all, I loved it loved it loved it. It was unnecessary, stupid, hilarious, lascivious, exploitative, deliberate, bloody, raunchy, vapid, and glorious at the same time. Most awesome.
Overall Score: 4 out of 5 stars.
Seriously, 3 hours!
What you have here is a film spliced together with baleen wire by Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino in a sort of love letter to the movies of their youth and no doubt to the movies that inspired them to make their films of such flavor. My theory, Easter weekend was a bad weekend to release the gorefest of utter tastelessness that we witnessed on celluloid. And that's most likely a compliment coming from yours truly.
A double feature, just like the days of old, Grindhouse is in two parts a zombie movie and an automotive thriller intermissioned by some tongue-in-cheek coming attractions only the minds of Rob Zombie, Edgar Wright, and Eli Roth could imagine. Rodriguez' flick, Planet Terror, is the zombie flick in question, which is less zombie than it is biological atrocity. One can tell that Rodriguez really lived and breathed this stuff when he was younger and it pays out with buckets of graphically horrifying karo syrup. Limbs are lost, decapitations abound, and more than a few times I found myself squirming a bit, but at the same time I couldn't help laughing at how ridiculous the entire thing really was. Underneath all of it, however, is a true love for those low-budget cheese-fests I expected to see splattered onscreen. Grade A.
I'll say little of the trailers in between, but I will say that I will never look at poultry the same way again.
Switching the proverbial gear (no pun intended), Tarantino really does up quite a film in the second act. It slows things down a bit much, to tell the truth, but the majority of it is really QT doing what he does best in setting up one heck of a payoff. There is such buildup in all the dialog-heavy scenery of Death Proof that one really starts to question if Tarantino was being over-indulgent, but you truly get lost in the words enough to not mind. While Rodriguez does a great service in a classic Grindhouse monstrosity, Tarantino deconstructs it plainfully. It's gratuitous, yes, but there's more heart and soul here than I ever expected. What's more, it contains one of the most heart-pumping car chases onscreen within the last decade. Many props to the actresses in this film and a special thumbs up to a very game Kurt Russell, something tells me him and Tarantino have more work yet to do.
So in all, I loved it loved it loved it. It was unnecessary, stupid, hilarious, lascivious, exploitative, deliberate, bloody, raunchy, vapid, and glorious at the same time. Most awesome.
Overall Score: 4 out of 5 stars.
Monday, April 02, 2007
The Iron Lotus
We'll make this one quick.
Blades of Glory, starring Ron Bobby and Napoleon Dynamite is the biggest comedy of the year. That's really not saying much to begin with, but when you have Will Ferrell at the top of his game as the centerpiece of an already stellar comedic cast, you really can't do any worse. So why was it that it wasn't quite as funny as Talladega Nights and perhaps nowhere near as funny as Anchorman.
My theory is that Anchorman was so high-falutin' hilarious that everything else pales in comparison. Talladega Nights came close, but missed the mark with little momentum. Blades of Glory, however, feels slightly different in a few ways.
You do get the usual celebrity cameos peppered about the film, but you also get more than a usual dose of tremendous comedic performances from the antagonists. Where Mr. Farrell's last film had a more than game Sacha Baron Cohen, this picture ups the game with the duo of Will Arnett and Amy Poehler cashing in on a very solid performance. Honestly, I was more impressed with their work and the sweet supporting performance of Jenna Fischer than most of Jon Heder's time on screen.
The story was OK, but set up some strong set-pieces, but there seemed to be only so much you can mine from the male-male figure skating pair. I expect more, maybe that's why I felt it came out as less.
Enjoyable and laughable, it stands out as a great matinée film and a good film to see during the evening.
Overall Score: 3 out of 5.
Blades of Glory, starring Ron Bobby and Napoleon Dynamite is the biggest comedy of the year. That's really not saying much to begin with, but when you have Will Ferrell at the top of his game as the centerpiece of an already stellar comedic cast, you really can't do any worse. So why was it that it wasn't quite as funny as Talladega Nights and perhaps nowhere near as funny as Anchorman.
My theory is that Anchorman was so high-falutin' hilarious that everything else pales in comparison. Talladega Nights came close, but missed the mark with little momentum. Blades of Glory, however, feels slightly different in a few ways.
You do get the usual celebrity cameos peppered about the film, but you also get more than a usual dose of tremendous comedic performances from the antagonists. Where Mr. Farrell's last film had a more than game Sacha Baron Cohen, this picture ups the game with the duo of Will Arnett and Amy Poehler cashing in on a very solid performance. Honestly, I was more impressed with their work and the sweet supporting performance of Jenna Fischer than most of Jon Heder's time on screen.
The story was OK, but set up some strong set-pieces, but there seemed to be only so much you can mine from the male-male figure skating pair. I expect more, maybe that's why I felt it came out as less.
Enjoyable and laughable, it stands out as a great matinée film and a good film to see during the evening.
Overall Score: 3 out of 5.
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