My friend, Steve, is driving to Colorado from Texas right now. He’s on the road at this very moment and I’ve spoken to him several times already on the phone today – he’s bored and I’m hyper – but as we talk he’s occasionally exclaims: “Wow, that’s beautiful.”
Life makes unexpected twists and turns when you least expect it. It’s like driving down a highway – a 100 mile straight shot – and all of a sudden you find yourself winding through a forest in the mountains. Or you see something you have to stop and take pictures of – a dilapidated red barn, a lake that stretches on for miles… What was once a boring, repetitive drive through a barren monotone wasteland becomes a trip where it’s hard to keep your eyes on the road.
I have been driving in this one direction for several years – almost six in Los Angeles – trying to make something of myself. And I am fine with this fight to become a filmmaker. I am not tired of that, but what I am tired of is not being invigorated by my surroundings.
Jaime is in love with Prague. She adores her adopted city. Every day she says things like, “Look at this place! God, it’s ugly, isn’t it? I hate Prague. Hate it.” And she adorably stands there, smiling ear to ear, surrounded by beautiful architecture that she sees every day when she walks out her front door. She’s completely IN LOVE with her city and everything it entails.
Life is too short to not love the place you’re in. I want my life to be filled with the urge to take your eyes off of the road ahead of you. I’m going to be thirty soon and my tolerance for the unimportant, the uninteresting, and the unremarkable – in things, places and especially people (although I do have wonderful friends here) – is beginning to weaken. My patience is wearing thin.
What re-kindled that spark in me that almost made me move to London last October? I had written an e-mail to Gary, who is now back in his home in France, and I wrote this:
“So I'm terribly jealous of you right now, because I know you are probably sitting in some wonderful French villa in your beautiful town enjoying a glorious day. And if it's raining, it's still perfect compared to LA.”
What I got in return inspired me greatly: “Yeah, life is good here right now. Makes me wonder why someone like you hasn't ever found her way to London? Seems like it would be more your style, and there’s a film business there as well.”
Well, it is definitely more my style... Do I really have an excuse – besides the shitty American dollar, no working visa, no way to make a living and my battle for a film career – for not moving there?
I can’t help, but think of that annoying voice that has been repeating the same old tired record in my head since college:
“Hey. You want to live in London. You have since you were ten. What if you die tomorrow? Could you live with yourself? Would you feel that life had disappointed you? Did YOU disappoint yourself? You think about your amazing childhood all the time. You compare your present life with the memories of being overseas all the time. It eats away at you. You want the Life Worth Living. You ache to experience life to the fullest! But, dear girl, you won’t be able to do it while you are in Los Angeles, let alone America. Instead, you’ve stayed in a city that made you jaded, discontented and bored. Good job, kid.”
When I was in London last, in 1999, I would walk around the city by myself, visiting the theatres, museums, restaurants and pubs, and the biggest complement I received was “Excuse me. I’m lost. How do I get to…” I was the most comfortable I have ever been in London.
So, today, I spoke to my friend, Heather, about how I want to move to London and she said she was toying with applying to a PhD program there. And that was it. She said she’ll apply and, if she got in, we would move there together. Next fall…
Regardless of whether or not she makes it to London, I am going to go. I will be almost thirty – the age I said I would finally move, regardless of what I’m doing, to London – and it will be the perfect time to make the leap.
JUMP!
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Literacy and Longing in LA
The other day I went to Amoeba with Maggie and got not only The Double Life of Veronique, BUT ALSO The Decalogue and the box set of Kieslowski’s other films, which include The Scar, Blind Chance, No End, Camera Buff, A Short Film about Love and A Short Film about Killing. I’m actually tickled pink that I now have all Kieslowski’s films. This man is easily my favorite director, while Zhang Yimou isn't too far behind him! Raise the Red Lantern anyone?
Kieslowski’s Trois Couleurs Trilogy – Blue, White and Red – are my favorite films of all-time. Red is my favorite of the three, but Blue comes in close second. I know that most people say that Blue is their favorite and why wouldn’t they. The talented, beautiful Juliette Binoche and Kieslowski’s use of color, cinematography and music – the surges of music with the intense use of the color blue throughout the film rips you apart –make it a masterpiece!
However, there is something romantic about Red that made me love it the most. The way in which one character symbolizes another, the near misses and the way in which characters dance around one another completely draws me into the film time and time again. Over the last ten years, it has never gotten old. None of them have. Each time I sit down to watch these films is like the first time.
I love introducing people to these films. I think I am going to have a Blue, White and Red marathon in the next couple weeks and invite a small group of friends over to watch them on my rather tiny television. (I have a TV, but it is only there for DVDs. I do not have it hooked up to any channels. I do not have Cable.)
Instead, I have surrounded myself with books. I grew up with a library in my house and one in my Father's den. My parents pushed reading and there were a number of sleepless night spent reading until the sun came up. My Mother would then allow me to skip school, because I hadn't gotten any rest. My best friend in Boston, Amanda, and I are both buyers of books. We are obsessed. I am reading a book right now called “Literacy and Longing in LA” – some unusual light reading for me – that states this perfectly: “Women do different things when they’re depressed. Some smoke, others drink, some call their therapists, some eat… I do what I have always done – go off on a book bender.”
What I love about “Literacy and Longing in LA” (a novel by Jennifer Kaufman and Karen Mack) are the literary references to not only books I personally love – in one paragraph she mentions Madame Bovary, Anna Karenina, The End of the Affair, Wuthering Heights, and A Farewell to Arms – but books that I am now making a list of to read. I’m always looking for something amazing to discover.
At twenty-eight-years-old, Amanda and I both have pretty extensive libraries in our apartments. Our friendship was founded on our long talks about our favorite novels or non-fiction indulgences. We sometimes read the same book together, like when we tackled Anna Karenina when we were at Emerson College. When we met, Amanda and I immediately liked each other. We realized we had found someone else who shared not only an obsession with books and the written word, but who was also striving to become a writer. We are each other’s biggest fan. She is an amazing poet and short story writer. Her poetry sends you back against the wall.
Last time I counted I have more than SIX HUNDRED books in my office. Some of which (nearly two hundred of them) came from my Father’s den library back in our house in Newport, Rhode Island. After he died in 2005, we sold the house and Mother moved to Florida. I went into his library, which had a wall of books – thousands of them – and I picked out the books that I wanted to keep before the Naval War College came in and took the rest of the books away.
My Father had been many things in his life. A 4-tour of duty Vietnam Veteran, a UN Peace Keeper in Jerusalem, one of the Consultants to the Shaw in Iran in ‘78, and a diplomat in Malaysia and Russia, as well as a student and a teacher at the Naval War College. He never got his PhD, but he did have three Masters degrees. One was in International Relations, I think. Over the years, he had created a magnificent library of military and historical books from which he taught his classes or from which he got inspiration for his lectures. He had actually lectured a few years before he died at Oxford University in England.
Although I am far from being depressed like Dora in “Literacy and Longing in LA,” I do find reading, like watching films, to be a wonderful get away. Especially during this time in my life when all I really want to do is sublet my apartment, postpone my film, fly to France and “get to know” Paris and the countryside in a two to three month courtship. I want to court Paris. Date her. Have a love affair with the city.
I want to do that one country at a time. Maybe after France, I will go to Italy or Germany or Ireland. I have a story that I want to write that partially takes place in Malaysia and, for the last three years, I have wanted (intended) to go back to my childhood city and get to know the country again. While there I would also travel to Thailand, Singapore, Vietnam, Bali, Borneo, and maybe even travel up to China and Japan. Spend a couple months traveling throughout the area.
Before I take this trip, I will start learning French again - Berlitz course? - and inhale books about France, about Paris, about particular historical and artistic figures and books that are written by French writers, as well as “visitors of the area,” ex-pats, etc. On my trip to Prague, I stayed with my friend, Jamie, and her boyfriend, Jack, who are both ex-pats (from America and England, respectively) living in the Czech Republic teaching English. This was the ideal set-up (for me at least.) I got to stay at a friend’s apartment, have that base, and explore the city on my own. I would love to do that again and again all over the World. But I guess once you set-up a “basecamp,” rent an apartment or a room, you might feel more comfortable about your stability, although the instability of travel is also enticing.
When I do travel next, I will create my own travel book of odd, obscure information that only I would appreciate and “follow” a somewhat loosely planned agenda, but be excited about the unknown of traveling in a country, possibly alone… I like the idea of going to France by myself, but then again, I might change my mind as the date approaches. It is also a dream of mine to travel the World with someone special. It brings a whole other element to the trip when you can share it with someone else.
Kieslowski’s Trois Couleurs Trilogy – Blue, White and Red – are my favorite films of all-time. Red is my favorite of the three, but Blue comes in close second. I know that most people say that Blue is their favorite and why wouldn’t they. The talented, beautiful Juliette Binoche and Kieslowski’s use of color, cinematography and music – the surges of music with the intense use of the color blue throughout the film rips you apart –make it a masterpiece!
However, there is something romantic about Red that made me love it the most. The way in which one character symbolizes another, the near misses and the way in which characters dance around one another completely draws me into the film time and time again. Over the last ten years, it has never gotten old. None of them have. Each time I sit down to watch these films is like the first time.
I love introducing people to these films. I think I am going to have a Blue, White and Red marathon in the next couple weeks and invite a small group of friends over to watch them on my rather tiny television. (I have a TV, but it is only there for DVDs. I do not have it hooked up to any channels. I do not have Cable.)
Instead, I have surrounded myself with books. I grew up with a library in my house and one in my Father's den. My parents pushed reading and there were a number of sleepless night spent reading until the sun came up. My Mother would then allow me to skip school, because I hadn't gotten any rest. My best friend in Boston, Amanda, and I are both buyers of books. We are obsessed. I am reading a book right now called “Literacy and Longing in LA” – some unusual light reading for me – that states this perfectly: “Women do different things when they’re depressed. Some smoke, others drink, some call their therapists, some eat… I do what I have always done – go off on a book bender.”
What I love about “Literacy and Longing in LA” (a novel by Jennifer Kaufman and Karen Mack) are the literary references to not only books I personally love – in one paragraph she mentions Madame Bovary, Anna Karenina, The End of the Affair, Wuthering Heights, and A Farewell to Arms – but books that I am now making a list of to read. I’m always looking for something amazing to discover.
At twenty-eight-years-old, Amanda and I both have pretty extensive libraries in our apartments. Our friendship was founded on our long talks about our favorite novels or non-fiction indulgences. We sometimes read the same book together, like when we tackled Anna Karenina when we were at Emerson College. When we met, Amanda and I immediately liked each other. We realized we had found someone else who shared not only an obsession with books and the written word, but who was also striving to become a writer. We are each other’s biggest fan. She is an amazing poet and short story writer. Her poetry sends you back against the wall.
Last time I counted I have more than SIX HUNDRED books in my office. Some of which (nearly two hundred of them) came from my Father’s den library back in our house in Newport, Rhode Island. After he died in 2005, we sold the house and Mother moved to Florida. I went into his library, which had a wall of books – thousands of them – and I picked out the books that I wanted to keep before the Naval War College came in and took the rest of the books away.
My Father had been many things in his life. A 4-tour of duty Vietnam Veteran, a UN Peace Keeper in Jerusalem, one of the Consultants to the Shaw in Iran in ‘78, and a diplomat in Malaysia and Russia, as well as a student and a teacher at the Naval War College. He never got his PhD, but he did have three Masters degrees. One was in International Relations, I think. Over the years, he had created a magnificent library of military and historical books from which he taught his classes or from which he got inspiration for his lectures. He had actually lectured a few years before he died at Oxford University in England.
Although I am far from being depressed like Dora in “Literacy and Longing in LA,” I do find reading, like watching films, to be a wonderful get away. Especially during this time in my life when all I really want to do is sublet my apartment, postpone my film, fly to France and “get to know” Paris and the countryside in a two to three month courtship. I want to court Paris. Date her. Have a love affair with the city.
I want to do that one country at a time. Maybe after France, I will go to Italy or Germany or Ireland. I have a story that I want to write that partially takes place in Malaysia and, for the last three years, I have wanted (intended) to go back to my childhood city and get to know the country again. While there I would also travel to Thailand, Singapore, Vietnam, Bali, Borneo, and maybe even travel up to China and Japan. Spend a couple months traveling throughout the area.
Before I take this trip, I will start learning French again - Berlitz course? - and inhale books about France, about Paris, about particular historical and artistic figures and books that are written by French writers, as well as “visitors of the area,” ex-pats, etc. On my trip to Prague, I stayed with my friend, Jamie, and her boyfriend, Jack, who are both ex-pats (from America and England, respectively) living in the Czech Republic teaching English. This was the ideal set-up (for me at least.) I got to stay at a friend’s apartment, have that base, and explore the city on my own. I would love to do that again and again all over the World. But I guess once you set-up a “basecamp,” rent an apartment or a room, you might feel more comfortable about your stability, although the instability of travel is also enticing.
When I do travel next, I will create my own travel book of odd, obscure information that only I would appreciate and “follow” a somewhat loosely planned agenda, but be excited about the unknown of traveling in a country, possibly alone… I like the idea of going to France by myself, but then again, I might change my mind as the date approaches. It is also a dream of mine to travel the World with someone special. It brings a whole other element to the trip when you can share it with someone else.
Friday, July 27, 2007
New chapter in my book of life…
Last night I walked into the open-aired courtyard of the Hammer Museum in Los Angeles and was immediately seduced by the site before me. Several hundred people of all ages – but mainly in their mid-twenties to mid-thirties – milled about with wine and beer in hand while music – rock and electronic – played, sending the music up into the night sky. An open walkway was a floor above me where people stood sipping their beverages and talking with each other while waiting for the free rock concert to start. (We were there to hear Sea Wolf and Midnight Movies, now easily one of my new favorite bands!)
This sight brought back childhood memories of my backyard of my house in Kuala Lumpor, Malaysia, when my parents had cocktail parties. Strangely enough, we had a guesthouse that was not connected to the main house, but was up on four “stilts,” and from the second floor of the house to the guesthouse was a bridge connecting the two buildings.
And I remember – at five years old – standing barefoot in the damp grass with torches ablaze around me and frogs jumping over my bare feet. My two best friends, British sisters named Samantha and Emma, and I had tried to catch the frogs with our hands while we wore pretty silk and satin party dresses. Dozens of party guests walked around me as I looked up and saw a man talking with a woman on the bridge. I stared up at the bridge. They were in silhouette, but it was one of the most romantic moments of my childhood, if not my life.
My life is filled with those moments. They have been both rather simple situations, as well as the most hair-raising periods of my life. I remember standing in a bell tower in an old barn that had been built by one of the Vanderbilts in Vermont with my ex-boyfriend and silently watching tiny birds flying amongst the beams while light filtered in through windows, highlighting the dust particles in the air.
And I remember – when I was twelve – my apartment building in Moscow, Russia, shaking while I walked to the balcony with my Father to find what seemed like an endless line of tanks rolling down our street towards the center of the city in August of 1991.
I AM A ROMANTIC. There I said it. I love moments in your life when you have to stop and look around you and the only thing you can muster is a quiet, under your breathe, “WOW.” I love the moments you feel like something magical is happening. I felt that way a couple months ago when I flew to Prague to visit my friend Jamie while our friends were shooting a film. It was the first time I traveled overseas, on a whim, ALONE. It was the first time I took hold of a city and discovered it alone. It was the first time I felt free in a long time and when I came back to Los Angeles, I had a carefree attitude. I could do anything. Accomplish anything. And I was unbelievably happy.
With Maggie beside me, I stood smiling at the sight before me last night. Although it is a rather simple, ordinary event in LA, it made me think about my past and, in turn, my future. I could say that it feels like life has slowed down in comparison to my childhood and so my life’s ambition – renewed by a meeting two men two weeks ago – is to fill my life now with special moments, experiences, people.
I met two men, who are friends named Scott and Gary, in the last two weeks who both fueled my desire to enrich my life. Scott's obsession with travel re-ignited my own obsession that had been born in me when I was a child. Gary, who has recently moved to the south of France, is a symbol of what I need to do. I need to live overseas. And soon! I almost moved to London in October 2006 and had a trip planned in March 2006 to look for an apartment (or flat) to rent, but the plummeting American dollar made me change my mind and I remain in Los Angeles…
After visiting Prague in mid-May, I itch even more to hop on a plane, forget the film I’m directing and fly overseas. For the last two years, I have been fixating on the idea of going to France. I want to go to Paris and visit family friends and get to know the city over a number of weeks. Then I would either rent a car or take a train to the south of France where I would visit my godfather, Gerard, in Toulon.
When I left Prague after my two-week stay, I was nearly in tears as I got in the cab at five in the morning to get to the airport. That night, at midnight, I had left a restaurant called Pravda that was near Josefov – my favorite part of Prague – and walked alone through the Old Town Square in order to get back to my friends’ apartment. As I left the restaurant, I said “adieu” to my newfound friends, and it began to drizzle. I walked by myself through the city and over the Charles Bridge as the rain started to come down heavier. I was getting soaked, but I did not care. I had a smile stretching from ear to ear as I walked the bridge with the Castle lit up in the distance. Czech police officers and lovers walked past me.
Prague. One of the most beautiful cities in the World. (See photographs from the trip on my Flickr.)
I need to fill my life with my favorite things – film, literature, music, and travel – and I must find those things here. I know what I want to do with my life and so I must start to live it now, in LA, with the intention of moving to Europe in the near future.
New chapter in my book of life…
This sight brought back childhood memories of my backyard of my house in Kuala Lumpor, Malaysia, when my parents had cocktail parties. Strangely enough, we had a guesthouse that was not connected to the main house, but was up on four “stilts,” and from the second floor of the house to the guesthouse was a bridge connecting the two buildings.
And I remember – at five years old – standing barefoot in the damp grass with torches ablaze around me and frogs jumping over my bare feet. My two best friends, British sisters named Samantha and Emma, and I had tried to catch the frogs with our hands while we wore pretty silk and satin party dresses. Dozens of party guests walked around me as I looked up and saw a man talking with a woman on the bridge. I stared up at the bridge. They were in silhouette, but it was one of the most romantic moments of my childhood, if not my life.
My life is filled with those moments. They have been both rather simple situations, as well as the most hair-raising periods of my life. I remember standing in a bell tower in an old barn that had been built by one of the Vanderbilts in Vermont with my ex-boyfriend and silently watching tiny birds flying amongst the beams while light filtered in through windows, highlighting the dust particles in the air.
And I remember – when I was twelve – my apartment building in Moscow, Russia, shaking while I walked to the balcony with my Father to find what seemed like an endless line of tanks rolling down our street towards the center of the city in August of 1991.
I AM A ROMANTIC. There I said it. I love moments in your life when you have to stop and look around you and the only thing you can muster is a quiet, under your breathe, “WOW.” I love the moments you feel like something magical is happening. I felt that way a couple months ago when I flew to Prague to visit my friend Jamie while our friends were shooting a film. It was the first time I traveled overseas, on a whim, ALONE. It was the first time I took hold of a city and discovered it alone. It was the first time I felt free in a long time and when I came back to Los Angeles, I had a carefree attitude. I could do anything. Accomplish anything. And I was unbelievably happy.
With Maggie beside me, I stood smiling at the sight before me last night. Although it is a rather simple, ordinary event in LA, it made me think about my past and, in turn, my future. I could say that it feels like life has slowed down in comparison to my childhood and so my life’s ambition – renewed by a meeting two men two weeks ago – is to fill my life now with special moments, experiences, people.
I met two men, who are friends named Scott and Gary, in the last two weeks who both fueled my desire to enrich my life. Scott's obsession with travel re-ignited my own obsession that had been born in me when I was a child. Gary, who has recently moved to the south of France, is a symbol of what I need to do. I need to live overseas. And soon! I almost moved to London in October 2006 and had a trip planned in March 2006 to look for an apartment (or flat) to rent, but the plummeting American dollar made me change my mind and I remain in Los Angeles…
After visiting Prague in mid-May, I itch even more to hop on a plane, forget the film I’m directing and fly overseas. For the last two years, I have been fixating on the idea of going to France. I want to go to Paris and visit family friends and get to know the city over a number of weeks. Then I would either rent a car or take a train to the south of France where I would visit my godfather, Gerard, in Toulon.
When I left Prague after my two-week stay, I was nearly in tears as I got in the cab at five in the morning to get to the airport. That night, at midnight, I had left a restaurant called Pravda that was near Josefov – my favorite part of Prague – and walked alone through the Old Town Square in order to get back to my friends’ apartment. As I left the restaurant, I said “adieu” to my newfound friends, and it began to drizzle. I walked by myself through the city and over the Charles Bridge as the rain started to come down heavier. I was getting soaked, but I did not care. I had a smile stretching from ear to ear as I walked the bridge with the Castle lit up in the distance. Czech police officers and lovers walked past me.
Prague. One of the most beautiful cities in the World. (See photographs from the trip on my Flickr.)
I need to fill my life with my favorite things – film, literature, music, and travel – and I must find those things here. I know what I want to do with my life and so I must start to live it now, in LA, with the intention of moving to Europe in the near future.
New chapter in my book of life…
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