A Mumbled Jumble of Thoughts about the Week...

Here is a collection of random thoughts that have crossed my mind so far this week:


1) All the Christmas songs playing on the radio make me feel nostalgic... and it's not even Thanksgiving yet! But whatever... Advent starts on November 30th. "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas..."

2) MoMA

• Priscilla and I went there last Wednesday to fulfill the "In a New York Minute" assignment for FYSH (First Year Seminar @ Hunter), which required us to visit a place of interest and write about the experience.
  
  There were some fascinating exhibits, but there were also some that didn't really make sense to us. For one thing, some of the so-called artwork featured a virtually blank canvas and dubbed "Untitled." Another so-called piece of art was composed of a tall pink slab leaning against the white wall. How are we supposed to interpret any of these? These were just way too ambiguous.
  
  One artist, however, captured my attention. Josephine Meckseper made social commentaries using her photography and mixed-medium installations to "cunningly expose the links between politics and the consumer worlds of fashion and advertising" (http://www.moma.org/). My favorite piece is called "Kriegsstrasse," a mixed-medium shown here:
  
  The piece is separated into three parts: a clear mirror with a picture of protesters and political symbols, an opaque reflective surface with bathroom products, and a clear mirror with another photo of protesters.
  
  I like to think of it as a newsreel. Imagine yourself watching the news on television, seeing the world objectively at all angles. Then, a commercial break: you cannot focus anywhere else but on the advertised products and subconsciously envision yourself possessing that product. After a few minutes, the news comes back on, with more stories of the real world. Apparently, consumerism is a dark void that employs subtle suggestion to suck you into it. Or at least, that's my understanding of Meckseper's "Kriegsstrasse."

3) Last Thursday in Union Square: Liliana, Priscilla, and I cannot do mental math.

• Lily wanted to buy rice cakes for her family, so we went into Whole Foods. I wondered how much she would save if she still had her employee discount, and so I asked her while we were standing on line for the cashier.
  
  "Well, I used to get 20 percent off my purchases," she said. "Let's see... Priscilla, you take math, right? What's 20 percent of 3 dollars??"
  
  Pris didn't even bother. Meanwhile, Lily and I were standing there writing invisible numbers in the air with our fingers, stretching the muscle in our brains responsible for performing mental math. The seconds stretched on.
  
  Until someone next to us whispered, "6..."
  
  "OH," we all said, feeling stupid that we were stumped by such a simple calculation.
  
  And let me tell you, the voice belonged to a tall, attractive man with a suave, friendly smile on his lovely face. Of course, this just made all three of us blush and feel even more abashed. Were we that obvious in our quest to find the correct answer to our mathematical query? It makes me laugh and wonder at how people can eavesdrop on a conversation you're having with someone.
  
  Not that I minded Number 6 offering a helpful hint. Hehe.
  
  It's also a coincidence that we happened to see him on the L train on our way home, too. I don't think he saw us gawking awkwardly at him. The funny thing was that once we were on the train, we realized that 20 percent of 3 dollars is not 6 cents, but rather 60 cents. Looks like Number 6 was incorrect in his calculations... unless he was giving us a hint that it was in fact 60. Was he?
  
  Like it really matters. Oh well. Anyway, the whole thing was yet another hilarious experience that I just had to chronicle.

4) Yesterday:

• It was really nice seeing Amy and spending the day with her, since the last time we saw each other was in June. Amy, Pris, and I played "Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader?" on her iTouch during Psych. She pretty much slept through the rest of the period, hehe. I tried paying attention but the lecture was kind of long and boring. But anyway, after class we met up with Lily, went to Applebee's in Times Square, and caught up with each other. We walked to Bryant Park soon after so that Lily could buy the hat she's had her eye on at H&M.
  
  It sounds absurd, but we were really excited to use the restrooms at Bryant Park right before heading for the subway. Once you walk in there, you feel as though you are transported to a lavish lavatory, as swanky and updated as a five-star hotel.

5) I started another draft for a story, redefining and reshaping the traditional ideas people have about vampires. Still have to work out the kinks, though. Not spilling the details just yet. For some unknown reason, I have the urge to use the word "iridescent" in my draft. ;)


6) Just today, I bought my own copy of Juno Diaz's The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. I probably should have bought a used copy online at Amazon.com, but I couldn't resist and instead walked into Barnes & Noble after philosophy. As soon as I was on the train, I cracked the fresh pages open and began to read. According to the back cover, it's the story of a man named Oscar, "a sweet but disastrously overweight ghetto nerd, a New Jersey romantic who dreams of becoming the Dominican J.R.R. Tolkien and, most of all, of finding love." But Oscar never really gets what he wants out of life. The cause? "Fuku - a curse that has haunted Oscar's family for generations, following them on their epic journey from the Dominican Republic to the United States and back again." I finished the introduction and just started the first chapter of Part I. So far, the story looks promising. Diaz even offers sidenotes about Dominican history and customs throughout the book, so I feel like I'm being educated as well as entertained. The next time he comes to Hunter for a lecture or at a Barnes & Noble for a book talk, I'm definitely going to try to get it autographed.

7) Finally, last on my list of mumbo jumbo thoughts: Did you know that saying "Thank You" has it's health benefits? Jason Mraz basically quoted an article from USA Today entitled, "Gratitude is Good for Your Health."

Read it here:
http://freshnessfactorfivethousand.blogspot.com/2008/11/gratitude-is-good-for-your-health.html

Just something to keep in mind not just for Thanksgiving, but throughout life. ;)

Twilight... not so dazzling?

I don't know if it's the media hype getting to me, or the fact that people are only starting to read the novels because of the movie. But I feel somewhat disappointed. I'm not even sure why I feel this way, and I haven't even seen the movie yet. It starts playing in theaters today.

There are some mixed reviews that I have read in the papers so far. I don't know if it's false advertising or simply the hormonal craze to be seduced by a supernatural predator ravaging the minds of young, impressionable girls. Supposedly, the movie is good. However, it might as well depend on who you're asking. These "Twilighters," let's just call them for now (I'm one of them, but I'm not as carried away as most), might be more likely to tell you that the movie was awesome and that Edward Cullen is a sexy beast.

But according to Mina Hochberg, the movie critic in amNY, " 'Twilight' might be too anemic to hold your interest." It's kind of amusing how she calls Edward (played by Robert Pattinson) an intense, brooding fellow with a staring problem. Now that I think about it, he actually is. But can he help himself when he's so attracted to the sweetest thing he's ever encountered? She's like chocolate to him. As Hochberg puts it, "If you thought hormones made men act up, try blood-lust." HAHA. But that's besides my point.

Hochberg wrote that when it comes to the dialogue between the two forbidden lovebirds, "you can't tell if the awkwardness comes from teen angst or clumsy acting." She says, "The stilted script makes it difficult to relate to the characters... Even as a romance, the chemistry is tepid... It's not enough to make a compelling love story. Or an action story, for that matter."

That is precisely what I fear - the movie may not measure up to the high standards that I have developed for the plotlines and Meyer's storytelling style.

I don't know if it's just me, or if it's the way that the movie was advertised, or if something is lacking in the actors' enthusiasm (based on what I've seen in the trailers), but somehow I'm not as excited as I thought I would be.

Or perhaps I grew out of placing Edward Cullen on a pedestal. He's too perfect, even for a vampire. I mean, for crying out loud - Instead of turning her into an immortal, youthful-looking vampire, Edward wants Bella to live her life fully as a normal human being (which means that she would grow old... I honestly don't blame her for being upset on her birthday).

He's just too perfect, it's unnerving. And unrealistic... Maybe living vicariously through Bella Swan's experiences just aren't cutting it for me.

Perhaps I crave for something more, something real. Someone real. Someone... three-dimensional, soft-spoken, clever, funny, somewhat serious yet also laid-back, and humble. Someone who makes me feel comfortable in my own skin, just the way I am. His only superpower would be to make me swoon, causing my heart to melt with a single goofy, lop-sided smile. Someone who I don't fear, but who I would fear losing. So there's my ideal guy. Or not even an ideal... more like just an idea of what he would be or should be like.

Anyway, I might watch the film sometime within the upcoming week. I'll give it a chance just to see how it goes and how it compares to the book (which I still think will prove disappointing). But whatever, I guess. I'll toss my whims to the winds of chance and see what happens.

Skin

As I was researching body art and different cultural perspectives on this topic, the creative spark set my mind aflame. I began thinking of body art as a mark of identity. I wanted to write something about an individual claiming the right to an identity, overcoming suppression and turmoil in order to get it, and finally feeling the freedom and satisfaction that the identity brings. I thought it was some kind of cycle, a metamorphosis that one goes through.

And so, this poem was born:


Skin

'Tis a sin
To alter the skin,
The elders say.

Obey this holy example:
The body is the temple;
The soul the altar.

'Tis a crime
To pillage this shrine.
A savage sacrilege.

The gift of free will
Sits dormant and still,
Shackled by sanctity's sanction.

Yet still you
Want, crave, do
What you will.

Somehow, you escape.
You rape
Your temple.

Penetrate your flesh,
Letting the elements mesh
From the needle.

A piercing, a tattoo.
This taboo
Inflames your soul.

A scar, a mar.
They say you've gone too far.
And so you die.

Hellfire.

Your insides Turn.
Cowardice and malice burning -
Ashes in an urn.

Dust to dust,
But you must
Rise as sinew, shadow, smoke.

Rise, Avian. Emerge.
Brilliance and light take flight on the verge.
Breathe in the breeze.

No longer tame
From shame, from blame,
You shine brighter than the shrine.

'Tis a sin
To alter the skin.
Yet 'tis sin that seeps in the skin.

This truth the elders deny.
You must defy them and purify
The self to save your skin.

Only then shall you win.

On a lighter note...

Here are two completely random phrases that keep making Priscilla and me laugh:

1. Turbo's nuts
2. Chafing nipples

Yes, I am aware that we are a couple of chuckle-heads who have a bad case of the giggle gas. But honestly, they are the most hilarious things that we have ever come across so far. I love inside jokes. :)

Let me try to break it down for you, if you deem us insane:

1. Turbo's nuts

• After reading one of his old blog posts, Priscilla and I could not get over the fact that Jason Mraz wrote about his cat's scrotum sacs and the surgical procedure that was to remove them. Although we kind of sympathized for the poor thing, we couldn't help but laugh hysterically. Jason, was it really necessary for you to include a picture of your feline's furballs (so to speak)?

2. Chafing nipples

• There was an episode of The Office called "Fun Run." Micheal Scott, the bumbling boss of Dunder Mifflin Paper Co., hit one of his coworkers with his car. He thought that rabies was the culprit to her present condition, in addition to his carelessness. To atone for his mistake, Micheal felt that he and the employees should sponsor and run a race - a race to cure rabies. Apparently, he didn't get the memo that the solution to rabies has already been found long before. Anyway, one of the employees named Andy feared the chafing of his nipples while running. So, he wrapped tape around himself to prevent it. However, later on during the race, as he was running as fast as his feet could sweep him away, two spots of red appeared on his shirt. Alas, poor Andy had no idea that his nipples were indeed chafing. The sheer stupidity of it incites the giggle gas to rise up in both of us.

It got to the point where Pris and I would laugh out of nowhere during our Psych class and even on the 6 train. We may have looked like a couple of weirdoes, but honestly, we blended in with the rest of the kooks on the subway. After all, this is New York City. That's the beauty of it. Embrace it. Breathe it. Live it.

Crazy is just another level of genius that no one else can understand.

I am hungry.

I am hungry.

Philosophy is a whirlwind that takes you on a ride, twisting this way and that, turning here and there, across a universe of question marks. But just when you think you've made it to Emerald City: WHAM! You land with a thud on your ass, right back on square one.

Can the existence of God be proved?

My faith was challenged on Wednesday. I had to argue for the con side of the argument. But my opponent argued her pro position from the perspective of intelligent design, making it harder for me to make a good rebuttal. To top it all off, I was getting an odd feeling in my gut telling me that it was futile to even question the existence of God.

Professor Hausman said that faith is not congruent with reason. Faith can still persist despite reason or when there is no reason to have faith. In psychology, this is called belief preservation. So why do we choose to believe in someone, or something, that we lack the capacity to fully conceive? It all seems so arbitrary.

And what is the purpose of life? To go to heaven? Too bad if you fail: welcome to hell. What is heaven, and what is hell?

But isn't it also possible that even if there is no purpose of life or to life, we can still have purpose in life?

Enter the age-old debate of Dualism. Is the mind the seat of the soul? Do we still live on even after our brain malfunctions and decays in the earth?

Am I a bad Catholic, a bad Christian, for doubting God? Sometimes I feel like religion is a scapegoat, some fabricated system of ideas and ideals to help explain the things that we feel have no answers. Perhaps we're just not advanced enough to uncover the truth yet.

Sometimes I find that Oscar Wilde's quote from one of his plays seems more rational:
"We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell."

Perhaps heaven and hell are here on earth. When one feels euphoria, one likens the pleasant sensations and emotions to the atmosphere in heaven. However, when one experiences anger, anguish, sorrow, confusion, one thinks that it must be some kind of punishment, some kind of hell to be paid. In this case, heaven and hell are simply states of mind. In the future, psychology might find the reasons why.

But right now, philosophy is a tornado of question marks coiling around you, grabbing you from the ground you've stood on for so long. It picks you up and sucks you into an abyss, then spits you out when it is done with you, leaving crumbled debris of confusion in its wake. And you're wide awake, trying to recover from the aftermath of its impact. You ask yourself, "Will I ever find the yellow brick road?"

Nope. Instead, you're back where you were standing, mercilessly tossed aside to the ground like a ragdoll, still as clueless as when you first started.

So after this long journey, I am hungry. Hungry for the answers. Hungry for the truth. But no matter how long or how hard I hunt for the answers or cultivate the knowledge I already possess, I think that I will still starve. Maybe my quest is all for naught.

Are you out there God? It's me, Julianne. Forgive me for being so ravenous.

"Ha la la la la... It's all about the wordplay"

It started with a rhyme
In the midst of finding time.

The perfect word,
perhaps one absurd

Phrase can describe
the vibe of my day.

^ Just a tidbit of poetry to start this post off. I'm feeling creative.

So here's a recap of the past couple of days:

Yesterday, I hung out with Pris and Lily again. At first, we planned to watch Changeling, since Pris had free tickets. But it already started by the time Lily came (she had to travel all the way from Brooklyn College to Times Square, where we decided to meet), and the schedule of the other movies were too inconvenient for us. Instead, we walked to Chipotle because Lily got hungry. After grabbing a table and settling down, the inspiration was born.

Maybe it was the tortilla chips. Or the salsa.

But either way, we became electrified, excited, feeling an extra spice and zing. It's all thanks to our common love for writing and the musical stylings of Jason Mraz, the "wizard of ooh's and ahh's and fa-la-la's." The conversation soon jumped to the things we like and freestyling. We saw some videos on Youtube of Jason playing his ukelele and doing a freestyle session with his friend, Bushwalla (a unique, funny-sounding name, right?). They were hilarious, riveting, and just pure AMAZING. Jason Mraz uses this technique in many of his songs like "The Dynamo of Volition," "Geek in the Pink," "Wordplay," and "The Remedy." If you ask me, the new (yet often crappy/trashy) hip-hop songs on the radio should be more like this. See Jason's awesomeness for yourself!:

***Note: If it helps, you should press pause on my music playlist. It's most likely playing "Wordplay" in the background as you read this. My playlist is all the way at the bottom of my blog page. Just press pause and you'll be able to hear the video better.




Long story short: we wanted to cruise down the freestyle aisle ourselves.

So on Facebook today, Priscilla wrote "Battle. Lets take it outside Julianne." Here's her piece:

I like... music
The way my itunes lets me groove it
with the lyrical stylings and musings
of jason mraz who makes me lose it
in a good way that lets me fuse his
eclectic style satisfies my Tuesdays

I responded with this:

I like... the idea
of romance with Mraz
'cause he's all that jazz
and his poetic groove
puts me in the mood
to dance, sing, and steal things,
'cause I know he stole my heart strings
I could steal it back
but I faced the facts
Jason could keep it
I'll just wear his hat

I have yet to hear Lily's rendition of what she likes. This should get interesting.

Wordplay status, yo!

Wishful Fishing

Reminisce on a lake of bliss.
Float on by and drift.
Go ahead and make a wish.
Fish for the one true thing
That will give you the wings
To try and fly.

Sit back, relax.
Shutter your eyes,
Pretend to flutter by
Like the butterfly.

But you're no flying fish.
And as you realize this,
You slowly kiss
Your bliss goodbye.

So you fall
And can't recall
The reason
You ever wished
For such a thing
At all.

Keep on fishing, clenching
The net in your fist.
Maybe, just maybe
You'll catch a wish
And not be so wishy-washy
That you captured it.



*Note: Just for the record - At first, I had absolutely no idea what I was writing about in this poem.

"Live high. Live mighty. Live righteously."

I was totally blown away by the election yesterday. After voting for the first time ever, I can proudly say that my vote actually made a difference in the history of my country. Screw the old belief that the youth is apathetic. I'd like to think that we were just tired, wishing and waiting for change to actually arrive. Now, with Barack Obama's victory in securing the presidency, I can wake up and look forward to a future of hope, opened doors, and progress for the greater good. Finally, the United States of America can regain its good standing in the eyes of the rest of the world, rising to face the challenges as a stronger and more united nation of diverse people searching for a dream... The dream to not only reach high, but fly like the eagle that symbolizes our determination and tenacity to soar above the hardships. While watching the election coverage last night on ABC, there was an election gathering of family and friends at a New Jersey couple's home. On their walls were posters and hand-made decorations supporting Obama and Biden. One of them caught my attention because of the truth and hope that resonates throughout its simplicity:

Rosa sat,
Martin walked,
Obama ran,
So that our children can fly.

It's amazing when you look back at the history of this country. One hundred fifty-years ago, slavery existed, and yet even after it was abolished racial prejudice still ran rampant well into the twentieth century. Forty years after the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., the dream of one man became a reality in the shoes of another, who finally broke the mold and now stands as a testament to the progress and change for the better. The American Dream can now finally be realized.

Although my ancestral roots run deep within my sense of self, I had never been happier to be an American until the moment I learned that the 44th President of the United States is someone who embodies the hope that we have yearned for, the change that we need - someone, that I placed my complete faith in and voted for.

That, my friends, is the beauty of giving your choice a voice. :)