I don’t think I have to be grateful. All the things in life I love and cherish I do so openly and all the time. It’s my belief that all the things I hate and bring me misery I’m therefore allowed to not like. I understand that when you’re affronted by a person who does nothing but complain it’s difficult to take it all the time, and I know, believe me I know, that some people abuse of your bent ear. Still you have to be aware of the heavy repercussions of gratefulness brought on by guilt. Because to tell someone to be grateful just because they’re not starving, or dead, when in reality they’re unhappy even though they’re fed and healthy, is like saying to someone, “Take all your emotions, all those feelings that need to be expressed, and shove them deep down inside yourself so they can’t see the light of day and fucking smile.” I know there are children starving in Africa, but I don’t see how my being grateful for working a dead end job is helping them at all.
I have lived in Miami pretty much my entire life and thus I have also lived just three and a half hours away from the happiest place on earth. Yet prior to last weekend I’d only been once as a child. For Floridians this is confusing and people are often shocked by my lackluster attitude toward Disney World in general. Even more so when I explain that I haven’t actually been to Disney World as much as to just one corner of the world, Magic Kingdom, and that it was the absolute worse time of my life.
I must have been 8 or 9 when my father loaded twelve of us (my mother and two of my siblings along with assorted cousins and aunts) into a rented van at some eerily early moment of the morning. I know that at most the trip must have lasted four hours, but the drive seemed eternal. On the turnpike the darkness and the wilderness surrounding seemed never ending. Suddenly there were no more man-made structures besides the road we were on. Had it not been for the service stations every hour or so I was sure we were leaving civilization. When hunger set in my father, who for all intents and purposes is the cheapest man on earth, refused to buy anything. He had made my aunt pack sandwiches. Sweet ham sandwiches. Anyone who knows me knows my adversity toward sweet meats. I am not a fan of foods that are sweet that should be savory. Worse than that, though, the sandwiches had gone bad. The lunchmeat was covered in a slimy film and emanated a rancid smell. Still my father refused to buy anything. We did not eat that day, my siblings and I.
My memories of the actual park are vague, overall, but I do recall my jealously as I watched my cousin eat ice cream she’d been bought because she was too much of a wuss to ride Space Mountain. More jealousy came when witnessing more of my cousins ask for autographs in their official Disney autograph books, another thing my dad refused to buy. My sister, taking pity on me, searched a gift shop and bought me one too, but by the time it was in my hands, we didn’t run into another Disney character. Not until it was time to go at least. After two hours my father decided we’d had enough fun and began to herd us all toward the exit. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Pluto and my sister yelled, “Go Sarah Go!!” I ran to him, skipping in front of a long line of girls who yelled and complained as Pluto signed his name and gave me a hug. I still have that autograph book and Pluto remains close to my heart, but understandably Disney World not so much.
I returned just last weekend and I’ll be truthful, it was not bad. It did occur to me however that maybe it’s because the Magic Kingdom did not capture my heart as a child that there is always something missing, that essential piece of the Disney experience that makes it like magic on earth.
A new semester has begun. There’s something about the beginning of classes that can be so exciting, perhaps it is the promise of learning something new and emerging in just a few short months with that much more knowledge. I always look forward to it, to buying my new books and equipment, preparing my backpack with crisp new notebooks and my favorite pens. Of course toward the end I am always ready to pull my hair out from the stress of final essays, exams, interviews, portfolios etc. and cannot wait for it to be over. But the beginning, the beginning I always savor.
I’m taking on 1920s Literature, Harlem Renaissance Literature, and African American Literature. I’ll be reading some books I’ve always wanted to read, but never have (like the Great Gatsby) and in general I always love my Literature classes. There is something therapeutic about analyzing a text and, I know this is quite nerdy, but I love to read feedback on my papers. The kudos from professors like the gold stars one receives in kindergarten, approval of the finest kind. I’m also taking an intro to Black and White Photography that I’m really looking forward to. I complain a lot about not having many opportunities to be creative and this should help quell the desires a bit.
I’m working on reading the last three volumes of Fables, although I have read some other comics in between. For Christmas Jeremy bought me the Marvel Pride and Prejudice comic book. It was nothing new, which is fine as no one likes to read butchered Jane Austen and it’s always fun revisiting. The art was just as good as the already tried and true Austen text. I also read The Zombie Survival Guide: Recorded Attacks (also a gift from Jeremy). It basically takes some of the accounts from the book and illustrates them, gruesome imagery and all. It’s fun though and I do love zombie lore and Max Brooks does it incredibly well.
For those curious I did watch Broken Embraces before the end of the year. I won’t say too much as I’m sure I’ll eventually dedicate an entire entry to the film, but suffice to say that it was incredibly satisfying to see a new Almodovar film. Every couple of years I get the craving and he always delivers. I am hoping this year I can dedicate more time to the blog, at least post a couple of times a week. I’ll only know for sure once I settle in to this school schedule, but I’ll try and make the time either way.
I’m not going lie, this will be the longest or most up to date list. I am usually late to the party. Except for things that I utterly adore and am constantly on the lookout for, it seems to take me a while to come across things that people have been raving about all year. I blame this partly on the fact that I lead a very busy life, but also on Florida. Maybe because it is the southernmost state, and Miami is all the way down toward the tip of the thumb, news takes forever to arrive here. There is, comparatively speaking, such a small audience for independent anything here that most things usually arrive here after they’ve been on the scene for a couple of years. That’s really a rant for another time though. This year, overall, has been a pretty good one and I do find myself a little more in the know, maybe because I’ve been actively seeking new entertainment. So here’s a list is a list of things I’ve enjoyed the most throughout 2009.
Penelope Cruz
I fell in love with Penelope this year. I feel she’s really blossomed as a performer. Her choices in film have become wiser, more selective, and her acting more intense and fierce. I truly believe her work in Almodovar’s films has provided her with an opportunity to show off her acting chops. No longer relegated to “sexy Latin lover” roles, her 2006 lead in Volver proved she was truly capable as an artist. Almodovar, throughout her career, has handed her better, more intense parts in his films, and now, in Broken Embraces, the faith that Almodovar has always placed in her as an actress really seems to pay off. While not her biggest fan at the onset, she’s really proved to me and to her audience that she’s not just a pretty face and a rocking bod. What I love about her the most is that she’s an actor whose work still seems full of integrity and passion.
True Blood
I’ve always had a special place in my heart for vampires. In a world where vampires are now bedazzled and abstinent, True Blood brings back the sexy, tortured tormentors I grew up with. Not only are these vampires as they should be (dark, lusty and blood thirsty), True Blood also isn’t taking itself too seriously. At this point there’s something almost comical about the tortured and sexy vampire, falling for the virginal young women so hard he can’t be with her because his love is a danger etc. etc. True Blood took those vampire stereotypes, ran and played with them and presented us with vampires like Eric and terms like fangbanger. Full of sex, lust, blood and torture, it also packs in a fair share of campiness that makes the entire cocktail a delight to swallow. One of the shows best moments and also a good example of what it’s all about is Eric descending from the stairs with foils in his hair and then dismembering a man in his basement. Afterwards he asks of another very scared prisoner, “Did I get blood in my hair?” Hilarious and disturbing, just like vampires should be.
Fables
Fables, Bill Willigham’s popular comic book series, spin-offs included, have really caught my attention this year. The idea that all those familiar fairy tale characters have been displaced from their lands and kingdoms and are now living in a secret community within New York is just brilliant. The story telling is epic, sweeping and beautiful and the art work an excellent homage to the beatific images of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty we all have stored in our childhood memories, with an adult twist of course. One of the great things about reading Fables is that it feels as if I’m catching up on the juicy back-story of all these Fable characters. It never negates any of the childhood stories we’re most familiar with, but rather fills you in on the adult material we couldn’t have understood when we were first introduced to that that world, making it much more complex and rich. Prince Charming’s womanizing prowess, The Big Bad Wolf’s complicated relationship with his father, Hansel’s murderous tendencies; it challenges the tried and true happy endings, making them much more intriguing and enriching.
Super Mario Bros. Wii
Perhaps my opinion is a bit biased as I have very fond memories of playing Super Mario Bros. on my brother’s Super Nintendo, I, in my enthusiasm, jumping whenever Mario did and accidentally disconnecting the remote from the system time and time again. It’s hard for me to find fault in the franchise and whenever I see the iconic mustachioed gentlemen in their red and green suits respectively, I can’t help but get a little bit excited. Super Mario Bros. Wii saw the return of the Koopa Kids as well as introducing a 4-player mode. I could sit down with my husband and two of five nephews and really go at it with them. While it can get a little confusing (especially if I’m not wearing my glasses) and while it’s not all roses (having to replay levels in order to save kidnapped toads is plain useless in my opinion) the game does recapture a lot of what was great about the old games and it’s a lot of fun.
Coraline
I love Neil Gaiman and I love the Nightmare Before Christmas so when Coraline, based on Gaiman’s novel and directed by Nightmare’s Henry Selick, was announced I was very excited. It was a mission and a half to get my five nephews to agree to watch a movie with a female protagonist, but their exhilaration and proclamations of “Wow, that was good!” once we left the theater proved me right once again. While not entirely true to the novel, the film stuck to the books Gaimain-esque mixture of wit and creepiness. Selick’s artistry was marvelous, it’s almost impossible to believe that so much of it is hand crafted. Even the inclusion of 3D serves to enhance the entire movie experience, creating breath taking sequences out of already amazing footage.
Anthony Bourdain
I’ve been a fan of the Travel Channel’s No Reservations and host Anthony Bourdain for a long time now, but this year cemented my love for him, the show and what it all represents. I finally sat down and read Tony’s 2000 memoir Kitchen Confidential, the one that launched his television career, and I also saw him at the Arsht Center, alongside Jaques Pepin, whom he gushed over a little like a fanboy, and Eric Rippert. Not only is he as wonderful and cantankerous in person and on paper as he is on TV, even the show throughout the years seems to have grown and taken off into something much more wise and thoughtful than a travel guide. That mixture of dirty humor, begrudging acceptance and almost philosophic prose has made the show one of my absolute favorites and Bourdain someone I deeply respect. His approach to food, but more importantly culture and humans is fresh and something not at all present in the shows of that guy that goes around eating weird shit or that other guy who basically just proves how much of a glutton he is. No matter how sarcastic, no matter how unpleasant, Bourdain always comes through as honest to a fault and deeply respectful of the very different cultures he visits.
While not my first Almodovar film, this one was it for me. This was the film that made me a fan, that made me seek out his work and fall absolutely mad for it and what cinema in general could really be. I really couldn’t say how many times I’ve seen it. Whenever I crave the satisfaction of watching a very good movie, one both hilarious and tragic and about women that are intelligent, beautiful, yet incredibly and masterfully flawed, I pop this in. Surprisingly, that craving comes up a lot.
Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown put Almodovar on the map. It was his most accessible film for the time, lacking the raunchiness and adult material present in much of his earlier films. I was a very tiny two years old when this film was released in 1988 so it’s safe to say that I arrived late to the party. I was probably 11 or 12 when I first saw it, a rental from my local Blockbuster video store. My first memories of it are vague, but I do know I liked as much I could understand. I’ve always known Spanish rather well, but understanding the language outside of the normal day-to-day conversations with my mom took some work, especially that quick paced Spanish accented wit that so relentlessly spilled from every character’s lips. It took a couple viewings to really cement my love and adoration, but it did. In time I was scouring the video stores for anything with Almodovar’s name on it.
The film begins with Pepa, splayed unglamorously on her bed, deep in sleep in her penthouse. Pepa dreams of Ivan, her ex-lover, walking past several women, romancing each one of them, and speaking into a microphone what they would all like to hear. His voice, actually, is a prominent feature in the film. It’s how he and Pepa met, both of them voice actors, but more importantly it’s how he romances and lies. Fernando Guillen plays the role of Ivan and his deep, silken voice, often apologetic and always romantic, fools women. He’s shown dubbing lines in Johnny Guitar and he plays the part so well. Later, after Pepa finally comes to and shows up to do her part as Joan Crawford, Ivan’s voice pipes Sterling Hayden’s lines to her headphones. It’s understandable that she cries and it’s understandable that she faints. Women on the Verge… is an over the top depiction of women on their last wits, but it remains honest and truthful, even if a bit melodramatic and campy.
Carmen Maura as Pepa is excellent. Witty, intelligent and sexy, she is so incredibly raw and brilliant in this film. Even in her outdated 80s clothing and stressed out state I admired her. Maura is not what you’d consider a typical beauty, but her acting and delivery are so great, you fall in love with her. In her mannerisms and style there is this sensuous luster. Almodovar gives her so many choice lines in Women on the Verge… and sadly the effect is a little softened by translation, although not entirely lost. Pepa is so desperate throughout the film to just speak to Ivan, to tell him the important news she’s received from the doctor and his constant avoidance and lies are just winding her up. She makes a batch of gazpacho and then drops a handful of barbiturates into it and declares, “I’m sick of being good.” But Pepa really never stops being good. In comparison to the other women that surround Ivan she’s cool, calm and collected. Even when she bumps into his son, a son she had no idea existed over the course of a long-term relationship, she takes the information in stride and she accepts Carlos (Antonio Banderas) in a way his father or mother have been unable to.
Carlos’ character brings up just one more thing that is incredible about Almodovar. He has a striking ability to bring out the very best in actors. I truthfully cannot say much about Banderas’ work in the United States, except that he’s usually just forced into the stereotypical role of the Latin lover. In his native Spain, however, and in Almodovar’s films he has always been brilliant, demonstrating a complexity of character that is lost in his American roles. In Women on the Verge… he plays the stuttering son of Ivan. Seemingly innocent, he’s still much like his father, making frequent passes at Candela (Maria Barranco, who herself plays an incredibly hilarious character) while his girlfriend Marisa (Rossy De Palma) is passed out on Pepa’s balcony. Still there’s something underlying his brazen attraction toward Candela. When Pepa accidentally refers to him as Ivan, he nods as if accustomed to living in his father’s shadow. It’s been suggested that Carlos has his eye on Pepa as well, although I myself don’t share this sentiment. She impresses him, because she’s an undeniably impressive woman, but I don’t think Carlos is that big a cad.
I really don’t want to reveal too much of the film as the key to enjoying it is in its many plot twists and turns. Still there are so many great small details to this film that I just am dying to gush over. Lucia, Ivan’s wife, who he’s literally drove insane and her bizarre 60’s fashion is just one of those. Julieta Serrano plays her perfectly, countering Pepa’s cool and collected nature with her medical insanity. Even the Mambo Taxi, who happens to pick Pepa up three times, both of those times in order to follow someone, becomes a much beloved and hilarious part of the film. It’s over the top, no doubt, but it’s great nonetheless and I suppose that’s the perfect way to sum up this film. A little on the bizarre side and often unbelievable, it is Almodovar at his best, demonstrating his true knowledge and kinship with women and their complexities and laughing at them a little bit, but also depicting them in a way that’s so truthful it can be insightful.
I operate under the assumption that the future holds great things in store for me or rather, that things can only get better. The Holidays are the time when that feeling is the strongest and I truly feel optimistic about life and people. This year I’ve rekindled relationships with old friends, I am this much closer to graduation, I’ve read a lot, written a little more, I got a Mac (^_^) and have my own little corner of the internet to play in, I’ve seen things I’ve never seen before, had room service in a hotel!! I got married to a wonderful man and overall I have more now than I did at this time last year. I’m looking forward to seeing myself in another year and witnessing how I’ve changed and gained in life.
As things start buzzing for Christmas and settling down for the new year, and with this very welcome indeed free time that I have between semesters, I’ve decided to remain optimistic. It’s very easy for me to look at myself and my life and feel frustrated because I’m not where I’d like to be, but I’ve decided that the best way to look at life is as a work in progress. It’s not perfect, but I’m getting there. I’ve grown, I’ve learned and I’m chalking things up to experience.
These last few of weeks leading up to the end of the semester have been a little crazy. Writing papers and studying for finals have left me with little time to devote to anything else. And even now as I write this I really should be reading the rest of my research on The Tempest so I can finish my last paper before Wednesday afternoon. Two weeks to go, though and then I get a little break before it starts up all over again in January.
I haven’t forgotten about my promise to watch all the Almodovar films before his new film is released in theaters here in Miami. The date was pushed from November 11th to December 25th. Very sad since I’ve had to wait, but it does means I’ve been afforded a little more time to do what I said I’d do. Hopefully I can keep my resolve. Expect at least a few more posts on my favorites. I’d also like to mention that I saw Almodovar and Penelope Cruz on Charlie Rose about a week ago and I’m really pumped for his latest. He’s just an amazing mind.
I also want to devote a post to Anthony Bourdain, another personal hero of mine. I recently saw him at the Arsht Center with Jaques Pepin and Eric Ripert and it was amazing. I want to get a little more in depth and show off some pictures though. I’ve got lots of ideas jotted in my phone for posts. I try to keep track so I don’t forget, but sadly the wedding and school ate up most of my free time and I haven’t been able to devote much time to anything else.
I will say this: it’s great to be married. Nothing is different; our relationship is absolutely the same. We’ve been living together for about four years, not much will change with the signing of a paper. But it’s absolutely awesome to be done. In fact, right after we finished our vows and as we began to dance our official first dance as a married couple all we could whisper and giggle about was the fact that we were done and we never ever had to plan a wedding again!!
It is that time of year once more where we gorge on rich and fatty foods, put up the Christmas tree and decorations and have a good time all around. Somehow last year I became the one in charge of the Thanksgiving meal. I think my mom needed the break and I can totally see why. I may have over reached a little, though. I made all the desserts, I made the bread, everything, from the scratch. It was good, but my back and feet were killing me by the time everything was out on the table. I, being the masochist that I am, however, have volunteered once again to cook the meal this year. I’ve been searching for new recipes to toy around with, eating the same thing each year is too traditionalist for me.
I’m also working on several final papers and studying for final exams that are coming up in a week. I can’t wait for this semester to end.
November 7, 2009
General consensus is that you should buy your wedding dress several months before your wedding date. A cousin of mine who just recently got married bought her dress a year in advance, even setting a date. Meanwhile, a close friend got engaged on a Sunday, bought her dress Tuesday and was married on Thursday. I have been engaged for a little over a year. I started shopping two months before.
Going to a bridal store with that kind of information is torture. Why did I wait so long? Because I had all the good intentions to lose some weight and I didn’t. Thank you for bringing up. It’s hard enough stripping to your panties in front of a complete stranger in that harsh dressing room light that is about as flattering as years of methamphetamine use, don’t mention trying on one of the most important dresses of your life in sizes that just run way too small and won’t go past your hips, so that you have to “imagine when the dress fits and flows all the way down.” Please don’t also remind me that I’m the biggest fucking procrastinator there ever was.
I did try. When I came back from Jeremy’s sisters wedding in August, the next weekend I went to check out some dresses. I didn’t want to go to David’s Bridal, but I had no idea where else to go. We figured we’d at least get an idea of the process. We went on a Sunday and the place was pretty packed. We walked right in though and looked through all their racks. My friends insisted I try one on. I was a little lackluster about it, but they just wanted to see me try a fucking dress on. I searched the store for someone and when I found that person I wasn’t allowed to put it on.
Nobody had greeted me at the door; I hadn’t filled out the required paperwork. So I sat in a chair and I waited. And waited. Oh, and waited! A consultant came over and I thought, “FINALLY!” and then she said, “Oh, someone will be right with you in a few minutes,” and walked away. So we waited some more. I do realize now that you’re supposed to make appointments for these things, but they could have at least told me that. Instead they had me sit there like an idiot. This is a big purchase, you drop a lot of cash for a wedding dress and we were treated poorly. We left and I vowed never to step foot in a David’s Bridal again.
So after that whole ordeal, I waited an entire month to go dress shopping again. My wedding will be a casual affair. I wanted a simple dress. I thought maybe all I needed was a white gown. I researched several department stores online and saw several good options. However, in the actual stores I found nothing. I scoured the malls looking for anything ANYTHING in white. We looked in Nordstrom, Neiman Marcus, anywhere where we saw long dresses and found nothing. Nothing nothing nothing nothing.
Apparently, white is not in season right now. Who knew? I did not. Very frustrating. Very tiring. I went home a little desolate, disappointed, almost crying. Meanwhile my sister took it upon herself to ask around work for bridal shop recommendations. The most promising was in Ft. Lauderdale, a place called Victoria’s Bridal Couture. The dresses online, and one in particular, caught my eye. I was hopeful. I would find something. Of course when I got there they didn’t have the dress I wanted. I tried on (and I use that term lightly since none of the dresses fit past my apparently ginormous hips) five that were pretty, but none what I wanted, that I loved and could picture myself in perfectly. It was hell and it was defeating. On the ride home I actually did cry.
Out of desperation we drove another hour to a place in Hialeah, the tacky heart of Miami, that was recommended by a friend and we found even less options. We walked in and walked out. My sister comforted me, my mother asked me to be patient and meanwhile my wedding date seemed to be this large looming date that was barreling toward me. I was so close to saying “Fuck it,” putting on some Jeans for the wedding and calling it a motherfucking day. I just wanted it to be over. I just wanted to find a dress I liked. I was desperate. So desperate that I went on David’s Bridal’s website. Even though I swore they wouldn’t get my money because of their crappy service. I saw some options, made an appointment and hoped for the best
I did not go back to the store in Pembroke Pines where I was treated like I was something stuck on someone’s shoe. Instead we went to one in Hialeah, which as I said before, is about as tacky as it gets in Miami and it gets pretty freaking tacky. I called them two minutes before they closed, made an appointment for the next day and hoped for the best. I got there and I was instantly greeted. My consultant was with another customer but would be with me in a few minutes. She was. She brought me a strapless bra, a skirt for underneath the dress and let me undress and put these on in private. It may seem silly, but strangers and naked girls with body issues don’t mix. I tried on two dresses. The second dress was it. I instantly loved it, I felt beautiful and comfortable. Everyone around me instantly loved it. I paid for it. I need to alter the length, but mostly, I’m done. I can relax a little. It’s nice.
