It's been a long time. Sorry blog.
The last few months have been seriously crazy--worrying about B-school (as usual), working on a number of shows, figuring out where I'm going to be this summer--everything has been up in the air.
But last week was amazing. My writing partner and I closed our night of one-acts, and it went beautifully. I had been terrified for weeks beforehand about whether or not we were going to find an audience, whether they'd find it funny, whether it would reflect the "vision" I had (a vision of silly jokes and partially veiled anecdotes).
If I weren't so tired from all the nothing I've been doing this morning, I'd write more. But suffice it to say that I'm getting back into the blog, and will hopefully have something interesting to say one day. If not, I'll just talk about things that irritate me and pretend that that's enough.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
A Little Experimentation
So, I came to a decision today. It was laziness more than anything else. But I decided I'm not going to wear any makeup this week. That might sound incredibly banal, especially coming from someone who doesn't look like she puts a lot of thought into her appearance to begin with, but I have been finding myself getting more and more preoccupied with stupid things lately, like worrying about the straightness of my hair or the length of my eyelashes, and it strikes me that I could save time and mental energy by just taking a vacation from thinking about all that for a while.
The experiment is as follows:
1. From now (including today--I'm proud to say I was able to walk around in public today without any makeup on) until the end of the week, I will not wear any makeup, which includes lipstick, eyeliner, mascara, or colored lipgloss (I still have to allow myself lip balm in this weather though). I don't wear eyeshadow, foundation, or blush (or glitter, or kajol, or ash, or any other special womanly stuff that I don't know about) and am not planning on starting to now.
2. I will also not blow dry my hair because it's getting damaged, and I'm kind of liking its wavy texture these days.
3. I will limit my "getting ready" time to 10 minutes in the morning (showering is separate). It's actually pretty easy to time--the cd/alarm clock in my bathroom has a disc with two songs that pretty much add up to 10 minutes: "Bohemian Like You" by the Dandy Warhols and "Gold Digger" by Kanye West. So when those two songs are over, I've got to be done.
Ho : No time over the week will be saved; I will continue to feel exactly the same about makeup's importance in my life.
H1 : My impression of makeup and perhaps even of my appearance without it will be altered.
Again, I know this is stupid. Maybe that's part of the point--it's so stupid, yet I think about it anyway. Hopefully this is the beginning of some necessary reprioritization.
What should I be prioritizing? Well, draft 3 of the play that's opening in April is probably a good idea. And draft 1 of the new play I want to work on is another. Also, I'm working on a sketch revue that will hopefully be going up shortly so I need to put together some sketches for that.
In short: writing comes first. Everything else falls into line after that--except makeup. That shouldn't be part of the equation for a while.
The experiment is as follows:
1. From now (including today--I'm proud to say I was able to walk around in public today without any makeup on) until the end of the week, I will not wear any makeup, which includes lipstick, eyeliner, mascara, or colored lipgloss (I still have to allow myself lip balm in this weather though). I don't wear eyeshadow, foundation, or blush (or glitter, or kajol, or ash, or any other special womanly stuff that I don't know about) and am not planning on starting to now.
2. I will also not blow dry my hair because it's getting damaged, and I'm kind of liking its wavy texture these days.
3. I will limit my "getting ready" time to 10 minutes in the morning (showering is separate). It's actually pretty easy to time--the cd/alarm clock in my bathroom has a disc with two songs that pretty much add up to 10 minutes: "Bohemian Like You" by the Dandy Warhols and "Gold Digger" by Kanye West. So when those two songs are over, I've got to be done.
Ho : No time over the week will be saved; I will continue to feel exactly the same about makeup's importance in my life.
H1 : My impression of makeup and perhaps even of my appearance without it will be altered.
Again, I know this is stupid. Maybe that's part of the point--it's so stupid, yet I think about it anyway. Hopefully this is the beginning of some necessary reprioritization.
What should I be prioritizing? Well, draft 3 of the play that's opening in April is probably a good idea. And draft 1 of the new play I want to work on is another. Also, I'm working on a sketch revue that will hopefully be going up shortly so I need to put together some sketches for that.
In short: writing comes first. Everything else falls into line after that--except makeup. That shouldn't be part of the equation for a while.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Dessert Recipe #2: Raspberry Shortcakes
When I started this blog last Fall, I wanted it to be a warehouse not only of my incoherent ramblings, but also of some of my favorite dessert recipes. You may remember the crepe recipe from a few months back (I need to learn how to tag things--as soon as I do, that'll make the recipe aspect a bit easier). It was very easy and very versatile. Crepes are, indeed, one of my favorite dessert options.
What you may not know is that my favorite dessert in the world, in THE WORLD, is Strawberry Shortcakes. I don't know if its because I still associate them with a cartoon I liked in my childhood, I don't know if it's because the name sounds so inherently wholesome, or if it's because the combination of fruit, cake, cream, coolness, and warmth is complete perfection. It could be all three.
Anyway, the last few weeks have been a bit draining emotionally as I work towards the next phase of my life. So, I decided to slow things down today and cook a bit. And, I decided to attempt my favorite dessert because baking in of itself is relaxing, and if it worked out, I'd have a delicious treat. Ain't nothing wrong with that. The dessert was an unabashed success on every level (except that I didn't have strawberries, just frozen raspberries--which was really more than adequate as a replacement):
I opted to make little individual shortcakes so that I wouldn't have to worry about my dessert getting soggy--if I were cooking for a large group (e.g. what I need to do on Thursday), I would have made one large shortcake.
Here's the recipe (from Better Homes and Gardens, 2002, probably THE BEST cookbook out there for any novice chef):
Strawberry (or in my case, Raspberry Shortcake...from here on out, just assume you can substitute fruits):
Ingredients:
6 Cups Sliced Strawberries
1/2 Cup Sugar
2 Cups All-Purpose Flour
2 Tsps Baking Powder
1/2 Cup Butter (1/2 cup=1 Stick, by the way)
1 Beaten Egg
2/3 Cup Milk
1 Cup Whipping Cream, whipped (recipe for that is below)
[This is somewhat consolidated--for the real deal, pick up the book]
1. Take your fruit and a 1/4 cup of your sugar and combine them, then put them aside.
2. Take your dry ingredients (flour, your remaining sugar, baking powder) and combine them. Let the butter soften, and add it to your dry mixture until crumbly.
3. In a separate bowl, combine your egg and milk. Then add that mixture to the flour mixture from step 2 until you get a slightly moist dough.
4. For your whipped cream: take 1 cup of whipping cream (not whole milk, not half and half or table cream--you need whipping cream), 1/2 a teaspoon of vanilla extract, and 2 tablespoons of sugar. In a chilled medium sized mixing bowl (just toss a bowl in the freezer at the start of the process), beat the three ingredients with an electric mixer on medium until soft peaks form. For me, that takes about 5 minutes.
5. Preheat your oven to 450 degrees. For individual shortcakes, take heaping tablespoons of dough and put them in rounded spoonfuls on a baking sheet. Then flatten them a bit (not less than 3/4 of an inch). Bake 10 minutes, or until golden.
6. When the shortcakes are done, cut them in half so that you have a top and bottom. Put a heaping spoon of whipping cream between the top and bottom--then put a layer of your raspberry compote on top of that. Then repeat on top of the whole thing (this should be intuitive--if not, see the picture above to get a sense of what it should look like).
7. Enjoy, then brag to your friends and family about the delicious thing you just created. It's easy, fast, and so very tasty.
What you may not know is that my favorite dessert in the world, in THE WORLD, is Strawberry Shortcakes. I don't know if its because I still associate them with a cartoon I liked in my childhood, I don't know if it's because the name sounds so inherently wholesome, or if it's because the combination of fruit, cake, cream, coolness, and warmth is complete perfection. It could be all three.
Anyway, the last few weeks have been a bit draining emotionally as I work towards the next phase of my life. So, I decided to slow things down today and cook a bit. And, I decided to attempt my favorite dessert because baking in of itself is relaxing, and if it worked out, I'd have a delicious treat. Ain't nothing wrong with that. The dessert was an unabashed success on every level (except that I didn't have strawberries, just frozen raspberries--which was really more than adequate as a replacement):
I opted to make little individual shortcakes so that I wouldn't have to worry about my dessert getting soggy--if I were cooking for a large group (e.g. what I need to do on Thursday), I would have made one large shortcake.
Here's the recipe (from Better Homes and Gardens, 2002, probably THE BEST cookbook out there for any novice chef):
Strawberry (or in my case, Raspberry Shortcake...from here on out, just assume you can substitute fruits):
Ingredients:
6 Cups Sliced Strawberries
1/2 Cup Sugar
2 Cups All-Purpose Flour
2 Tsps Baking Powder
1/2 Cup Butter (1/2 cup=1 Stick, by the way)
1 Beaten Egg
2/3 Cup Milk
1 Cup Whipping Cream, whipped (recipe for that is below)
[This is somewhat consolidated--for the real deal, pick up the book]
1. Take your fruit and a 1/4 cup of your sugar and combine them, then put them aside.
2. Take your dry ingredients (flour, your remaining sugar, baking powder) and combine them. Let the butter soften, and add it to your dry mixture until crumbly.
3. In a separate bowl, combine your egg and milk. Then add that mixture to the flour mixture from step 2 until you get a slightly moist dough.
4. For your whipped cream: take 1 cup of whipping cream (not whole milk, not half and half or table cream--you need whipping cream), 1/2 a teaspoon of vanilla extract, and 2 tablespoons of sugar. In a chilled medium sized mixing bowl (just toss a bowl in the freezer at the start of the process), beat the three ingredients with an electric mixer on medium until soft peaks form. For me, that takes about 5 minutes.
5. Preheat your oven to 450 degrees. For individual shortcakes, take heaping tablespoons of dough and put them in rounded spoonfuls on a baking sheet. Then flatten them a bit (not less than 3/4 of an inch). Bake 10 minutes, or until golden.
6. When the shortcakes are done, cut them in half so that you have a top and bottom. Put a heaping spoon of whipping cream between the top and bottom--then put a layer of your raspberry compote on top of that. Then repeat on top of the whole thing (this should be intuitive--if not, see the picture above to get a sense of what it should look like).
7. Enjoy, then brag to your friends and family about the delicious thing you just created. It's easy, fast, and so very tasty.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Inventory
Okay, so this is what I did today:
1. Looked up and applied to some internships in DC, New York and Chicago. So now, wherever I spend my summer is completely up in the air--a little spooky to be honest.
2. Did my taxes. In fairness, because I don't have a lot of issues like student loan interest or property taxes or having to pay a nanny, and because any of my potential itemized deductions are way below my standard deduction, doing my taxes is ridiculously easy. But still, they're done, and a good 2 months early, so I go girl.
3. Cleaned and then dirtied the kitchen. I can't help it. A clean kitchen, though it looks great, is just too easy to want to cook in. So I made some fettucine alfredo with spinach and chicken. Tasty, but now I'm logy and don't want to clean again. At some point I'm going to throw in the towel and just go out to eat.
4. Called my company to discuss the status of a reimbursement that they still owe me. It's been 10 months since I initiated the reimbursement process. I'm not kidding.
5. Wrote the arc of my play. --> This is the part I haven't done yet but hope to shortly. It's getting there. I keep saying that, and it's true. But I wish I were actually at the "there" part, not the "getting" part.
By the way, I can't believe I'm moving in six months. It sounds like a long time, and it is in a way when I think about how slow time seems to pass these days (it's winter in Chicago--the fog was so thick today that I woke up and immediately thought someone draped a huge white sheet over my building, I couldn't see outside at all).
But, I so need to focus on getting myself prepped and ready for this move, for this paradigm shift. However, I made great strides yesterday by rooting for the NY Giants to win the Superbowl which, everyone knows, they did in spectacular fashion. I am not a football person. But the spectacle of the last 3 minutes (and to some degree, really, the last 10 minutes of the 4th quarter) was compelling even for someone like me who doesn't know what a "down" is and why people have to advance down the field or any of those other nuances.
I was incredibly happy when the Giants won, like a possessive-fan type of happiness even though I'd only been a fan for maybe a few days. But their win was meaningful to me, which I think tells me that I might possibly potentially be ready to become a New Yorker, even temporarily.
Anyway, someone sent this video around recently and I think it's one of the best things I've ever seen. Every theatrical experience I explore must aspire to be at least partially this amazing. I can only hope.
Acting this good has to have a home on my blog: it's from "The Room", a vanity project by Tommy Wiseau, the black-haired lead who says "I did not" with facial expression usually only seen on hungry babies. Head to YouTube for more clips...you know you want to.
1. Looked up and applied to some internships in DC, New York and Chicago. So now, wherever I spend my summer is completely up in the air--a little spooky to be honest.
2. Did my taxes. In fairness, because I don't have a lot of issues like student loan interest or property taxes or having to pay a nanny, and because any of my potential itemized deductions are way below my standard deduction, doing my taxes is ridiculously easy. But still, they're done, and a good 2 months early, so I go girl.
3. Cleaned and then dirtied the kitchen. I can't help it. A clean kitchen, though it looks great, is just too easy to want to cook in. So I made some fettucine alfredo with spinach and chicken. Tasty, but now I'm logy and don't want to clean again. At some point I'm going to throw in the towel and just go out to eat.
4. Called my company to discuss the status of a reimbursement that they still owe me. It's been 10 months since I initiated the reimbursement process. I'm not kidding.
5. Wrote the arc of my play. --> This is the part I haven't done yet but hope to shortly. It's getting there. I keep saying that, and it's true. But I wish I were actually at the "there" part, not the "getting" part.
By the way, I can't believe I'm moving in six months. It sounds like a long time, and it is in a way when I think about how slow time seems to pass these days (it's winter in Chicago--the fog was so thick today that I woke up and immediately thought someone draped a huge white sheet over my building, I couldn't see outside at all).
But, I so need to focus on getting myself prepped and ready for this move, for this paradigm shift. However, I made great strides yesterday by rooting for the NY Giants to win the Superbowl which, everyone knows, they did in spectacular fashion. I am not a football person. But the spectacle of the last 3 minutes (and to some degree, really, the last 10 minutes of the 4th quarter) was compelling even for someone like me who doesn't know what a "down" is and why people have to advance down the field or any of those other nuances.
I was incredibly happy when the Giants won, like a possessive-fan type of happiness even though I'd only been a fan for maybe a few days. But their win was meaningful to me, which I think tells me that I might possibly potentially be ready to become a New Yorker, even temporarily.
Anyway, someone sent this video around recently and I think it's one of the best things I've ever seen. Every theatrical experience I explore must aspire to be at least partially this amazing. I can only hope.
Acting this good has to have a home on my blog: it's from "The Room", a vanity project by Tommy Wiseau, the black-haired lead who says "I did not" with facial expression usually only seen on hungry babies. Head to YouTube for more clips...you know you want to.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Comfort Food for Thought
Daydreaming about an ideal future, remembering times when I'd put my head in my mom's lap and she'd stroke my hair, brunch at the Carlyle in Shirlington (homefries, asparagus, and broiled salmon with an amazing pomfrey mustard, and beignets with powdered sugar of course), three hour long conversations with my best friend, making ice cream or kulfi, writing, reading books written by contemplative malcontents like myself with pages of platitudes that culminate in little more than confirmation that my general and pervasive sense of dread is justifiable, making dinner for other people, writing, feeling snow or rain on my face, winding the curls of my hair around my finger, falling asleep as my grandmother tapped a light rhythm on my shoulder to calm me, thinking about the lush, rolling hills at Sanchi, sitting in the Art Institute, writing, taking pictures, a huge cup of coffee, imagining God, remembering the time I could have sworn I felt my grandfather's ghost touch my back, writing, writing, writing, writing, writing.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Dearest Bard,
I apologize in advance for the coarseness of my language--your writings are timeless and transcendent, while mine makes a mockery of the public school system. But enough about me.
Tonight, you saved me, just as you've saved me many times before. Of course, you are probably used to being an agent of positivity for many (including Gwyneth Paltrow, which I have almost forgiven you for) but tonight, like never before, I felt a connection to you that was nearly euphoric. But why should I be surprised? How do I love thee? Let me count the ways, while also pilfering some of your best known lines. My apologies.
My initial fascination with you was purely selfish. I must have been six or seven, looking at one of those books that tells you who you share your birthday with. It might have actually been "The Kids' World Almanac" (do they print that anymore?) which told me I shared my birthday with you and the 15th President of the US, James Buchanan. While I was devastated to learn that I had something in common with the only bachelor president, I was ecstatic to learn that you and I had that in common as well (Note: it was only much later that I learned that we also share our birthday with Vladimir Nabokov, but I suppose the Kids' World Almanac didn't think that was appropriate information for people in my age group).
Upon learning that my birth date was auspicious because it was shared with such a famous author, I wanted to find out what was so great about you. Through school and an ambitiousness that I seem to have left behind in my youth, I read many of your plays and even acted and directed a bit. I had the opportunity to act in a modern interpretation of "Much Ado About Nothing" as Benedick (!), an experience that still leaves me exhilarated. I then got to play Margaret in the same play, though a different production, which was a bit strange and anticlimactic. I think she was a bit overlooked--made out to be little more than a plot device, but maybe that was just a fault of the staged interpretation.
The following year was perhaps the last time you and I worked together until now. I directed a scene from Henry V, and also, more importantly, performed a scene from Henry IV part i as...Falstaff. It was one of the strangest casting decisions ever made, but to this day, I am honored to have played one of your most iconic characters. I even received an award for it--kind of a tongue in cheek award, but one I treasure.
However, it has been ten years, almost exactly, since I've really immersed myself in your amazing stories and luxurious prose. Of course, I've seen some movies and a few staged adaptations of your work--a few have been amazing (Much Ado, Branagh's Hamlet), and some of have been truly terrible (Julie Taymor's Titus which, to be honest, wasn't great in terms of its source material anyway...I was pretty apathetic about all the characters, most of all Lavinia which I think was probably not your aim). But here I'm being incredibly arrogant--even the worst of your writing bests any of my efforts and will continue to dwarf me in the future.
In a way, though, that's kind of comforting in two ways. The first--well, it's sort of a relief to admit to myself that there is a level of excellence that I can't even consider aspiring to because it's completely out of my league. It keeps me humble and keeps me grounded in reality. The second comfort is that, if I need a reference point or inspiration, your work is incalculably valuable.
Which brings me to tonight. This week, I have been near tears trying to put together a piece of work that won't completely humiliate me. My writing partner has been incredibly helpful, but her talent completely eclipses mine and I don't think she has any idea how hard it is for people who are not naturally gifted writers to put together something that adequately represents their ideas. So this has been a huge struggle for me--who are my characters? Who can I identify, what do I want them to do, what kind of a plot is streamlined enough to be understandable but dense enough to be interesting?
In discussing a character of mine, my writing partner and I reached a turning point, changing some of his most significant attributes to something more palatable to me--and something exploded in me like fireworks. The plot, the characters, the arc, the conflict, everything clicked and I think I smiled for the first time today. I had completely internalized one of your plays, and it was manifesting itself in my work. Unlike finer writers who want to be completely original, I am honored that my subconscious was smart enough to find its way to your work as a source of inspiration.
My faith in you in unmeasurable, and now I know that this can be a success because your work is the perfect backbone. I feel a renewed sense of creativity, and feel the impact of your mentorship even though we are centuries apart. So thank you for your amazing work and genius. We'll have a great birthday this year.
Sincerely,
A Different Dark Lady
Tonight, you saved me, just as you've saved me many times before. Of course, you are probably used to being an agent of positivity for many (including Gwyneth Paltrow, which I have almost forgiven you for) but tonight, like never before, I felt a connection to you that was nearly euphoric. But why should I be surprised? How do I love thee? Let me count the ways, while also pilfering some of your best known lines. My apologies.
My initial fascination with you was purely selfish. I must have been six or seven, looking at one of those books that tells you who you share your birthday with. It might have actually been "The Kids' World Almanac" (do they print that anymore?) which told me I shared my birthday with you and the 15th President of the US, James Buchanan. While I was devastated to learn that I had something in common with the only bachelor president, I was ecstatic to learn that you and I had that in common as well (Note: it was only much later that I learned that we also share our birthday with Vladimir Nabokov, but I suppose the Kids' World Almanac didn't think that was appropriate information for people in my age group).
Upon learning that my birth date was auspicious because it was shared with such a famous author, I wanted to find out what was so great about you. Through school and an ambitiousness that I seem to have left behind in my youth, I read many of your plays and even acted and directed a bit. I had the opportunity to act in a modern interpretation of "Much Ado About Nothing" as Benedick (!), an experience that still leaves me exhilarated. I then got to play Margaret in the same play, though a different production, which was a bit strange and anticlimactic. I think she was a bit overlooked--made out to be little more than a plot device, but maybe that was just a fault of the staged interpretation.
The following year was perhaps the last time you and I worked together until now. I directed a scene from Henry V, and also, more importantly, performed a scene from Henry IV part i as...Falstaff. It was one of the strangest casting decisions ever made, but to this day, I am honored to have played one of your most iconic characters. I even received an award for it--kind of a tongue in cheek award, but one I treasure.
However, it has been ten years, almost exactly, since I've really immersed myself in your amazing stories and luxurious prose. Of course, I've seen some movies and a few staged adaptations of your work--a few have been amazing (Much Ado, Branagh's Hamlet), and some of have been truly terrible (Julie Taymor's Titus which, to be honest, wasn't great in terms of its source material anyway...I was pretty apathetic about all the characters, most of all Lavinia which I think was probably not your aim). But here I'm being incredibly arrogant--even the worst of your writing bests any of my efforts and will continue to dwarf me in the future.
In a way, though, that's kind of comforting in two ways. The first--well, it's sort of a relief to admit to myself that there is a level of excellence that I can't even consider aspiring to because it's completely out of my league. It keeps me humble and keeps me grounded in reality. The second comfort is that, if I need a reference point or inspiration, your work is incalculably valuable.
Which brings me to tonight. This week, I have been near tears trying to put together a piece of work that won't completely humiliate me. My writing partner has been incredibly helpful, but her talent completely eclipses mine and I don't think she has any idea how hard it is for people who are not naturally gifted writers to put together something that adequately represents their ideas. So this has been a huge struggle for me--who are my characters? Who can I identify, what do I want them to do, what kind of a plot is streamlined enough to be understandable but dense enough to be interesting?
In discussing a character of mine, my writing partner and I reached a turning point, changing some of his most significant attributes to something more palatable to me--and something exploded in me like fireworks. The plot, the characters, the arc, the conflict, everything clicked and I think I smiled for the first time today. I had completely internalized one of your plays, and it was manifesting itself in my work. Unlike finer writers who want to be completely original, I am honored that my subconscious was smart enough to find its way to your work as a source of inspiration.
My faith in you in unmeasurable, and now I know that this can be a success because your work is the perfect backbone. I feel a renewed sense of creativity, and feel the impact of your mentorship even though we are centuries apart. So thank you for your amazing work and genius. We'll have a great birthday this year.
Sincerely,
A Different Dark Lady
Sunday, January 20, 2008
In Case of Emergency
I saw "Cloverfield" last night. I loved it, and I'm not ashamed to say so. During the movie, I was glued to my seat. After the movie, I talked about it incessantly. There are moments that I can't get out of my head. I know I sound like a complete dork right now, but I don't care. It was one of the most unique movie experiences I've had in a long time.
However, it did bring up some interesting questions for me, and humbled me considerably as I thought about how I would react if some crazy 30-story beast started demolishing my city. Below are spoilers, but honestly, you're not going to see this movie for the plot anyway.
Question 1: Would I run, or would I hunker down and wait it out?
I'm pretty sure I would run. I would run slowly, and stop a lot because I have no endurance and a small asthma problem, but I would almost certainly run. Why run? Because I don't want to be trapped in a building, especially not on the 20th floor, while some random thing is running amok and knocking stuff all over the place. Sure, you run a lot of risks by wandering around on the streets, but at least by getting on the streets (hopefully in a car or something) you can mobilize yourself away from danger instead of waiting for something awful to eat you.
Question 2: Would I head underground?
No no no no NO. This movie, for one, makes a very good argument against going underground (large, insect-y things that can quietly follow you and then attack you like a rabid puma). But the major issue is freedom of movement. Underground, things can collapse on you, and your ability to move around in the direction you want is limited by where you are. If you are, for example, stuck in a tunnel, your choice is to go forward, go backwards, or curl up in the fetal position and wait for death to take you. I prefer to have lots of room to wander around screaming and freaking out. That's just how I roll.
Question 3: If someone called you crying on the phone and begging for your help, would you go back and help them rather than head towards certain safety?
Unfortunately, I'd have to say it depends. I wish I could be the type of heroic protagonist that could get a call from her 8th grade math teacher and spring into action to save him or her (I can't even remember my 8th grade math teacher, so my apologies there). But the fact is, I'm an only child and I have to consider what I'd put my mother through. I can't imagine someone telling my mom "Yeah, your sole offspring perished while trying to save this person she was in Girl Scouts with 16 years ago."
On the other hand, if it were a family member like my young cousins, mom or dad, or grandma, I would probably attempt to hijack a tank or car (whatever vehicle is at my disposal) and spirit them out of harm's way. But it's almost for selfish reasons because I know at the next family gathering, someone would end up saying something like "well, Nani usually brings the halwa, but since Ms. Thing over there couldn't go back to save her, I guess we'll just have to go without dessert tonight." And then everyone would look at me and shake their heads.
I'm just kidding. I just don't want to reveal how crazily sentimental I am about my family. Seriously, I can't even imagine the insane stunts I would pull to get them to safety.
Question 4: Would I let a loved one head back to try and save someone?
Absolutely not. My guess is, I would find a heavy object and knock them out (not an easy feat, I admit) and then try to drag their unconscious self to safety. Certainly, my friends are allowed to make their own decisions, but hurling themselves into certain doom is not considered optional.
Question 5: What qualities do I lack in surviving a "Cloverfield" type situation?
Well, for starters, physical fitness. If pressed, I can run a mile or two without stopping. Slowly. I can walk for miles and miles, again, if pressed (and wearing the right shoes). But, I cannot sprint more than 30 feet. I am not adept at scrambling over debris, boulders, people lying supine on the ground having been trampled. I would be a tramplee, not a trampler.
There's also my contact lenses. The moment I got a bit of dust in my eyes, I'd be completely helpless. Take off my contacts, you say? Without corrective lenses, I can barely tell colors apart. I'd end up walking right up the monster and snuggling its leg thinking it was some wayward elephant escapee that could shelter me in my moment of need.
Another issue--I am irrationally decisive. This might be okay in some scenarios, but in a "monster eating the city" type crisis, one probably needs to spend at least a few seconds considering the validity of certain options. For example--if one does not know the scope, location, or motivation of your monster, you probably should not put yourself in an all-or-nothing situation (e.g. on a bridge). However, I would probably rely too much on my flawed instinct and would just run willy nilly in whatever direction everyone else would be running in. Not a great choice to make if everyone in front of you is running straight into a monster-tummy-territory.
Question 6: What do I think are our chances of dealing with a monster? What are our expectations of survival?
In Chicago, we have two advantages over our monsters. The first is weather--if a monster tried to attack us right now, he would mostly likely freeze to death because he, like most of us, forgot to purchase longjohns in advance of the season. The second advantage is space. We are a very spread out city. We are not encumbered, like Manhattan, by natural boundaries like water or New Jersey. Sorry, that was a weak New Jersey dig. Not only that but, I give a lot of street cred to the CPD. This city for the most part is run like a well-oiled machine. Not that the NYPD and US Military are incompetent by any means, but the CPD has some additional midwestern moxie that I'm proud to be protected by.
In closing, while I am not completely certain, I do believe it is probably premature to fear a monster invasion similar to what I saw last night during "Cloverfield" (again, damn that's one amazing movie...firefights, crazy angry alien insect things, excellent special effects, a brutally beautiful shot of the monster from the ground level towards the end right before the ersatz cinematographer gets eaten). However, I still think it is better to be ready in any case. Tomorrow I am starting my "Monster Preparedness Program" which entails my saving up for Lasik and running long distances while screaming, waving my arms, and saying "Oh my God!" over and over again.
However, it did bring up some interesting questions for me, and humbled me considerably as I thought about how I would react if some crazy 30-story beast started demolishing my city. Below are spoilers, but honestly, you're not going to see this movie for the plot anyway.
Question 1: Would I run, or would I hunker down and wait it out?
I'm pretty sure I would run. I would run slowly, and stop a lot because I have no endurance and a small asthma problem, but I would almost certainly run. Why run? Because I don't want to be trapped in a building, especially not on the 20th floor, while some random thing is running amok and knocking stuff all over the place. Sure, you run a lot of risks by wandering around on the streets, but at least by getting on the streets (hopefully in a car or something) you can mobilize yourself away from danger instead of waiting for something awful to eat you.
Question 2: Would I head underground?
No no no no NO. This movie, for one, makes a very good argument against going underground (large, insect-y things that can quietly follow you and then attack you like a rabid puma). But the major issue is freedom of movement. Underground, things can collapse on you, and your ability to move around in the direction you want is limited by where you are. If you are, for example, stuck in a tunnel, your choice is to go forward, go backwards, or curl up in the fetal position and wait for death to take you. I prefer to have lots of room to wander around screaming and freaking out. That's just how I roll.
Question 3: If someone called you crying on the phone and begging for your help, would you go back and help them rather than head towards certain safety?
Unfortunately, I'd have to say it depends. I wish I could be the type of heroic protagonist that could get a call from her 8th grade math teacher and spring into action to save him or her (I can't even remember my 8th grade math teacher, so my apologies there). But the fact is, I'm an only child and I have to consider what I'd put my mother through. I can't imagine someone telling my mom "Yeah, your sole offspring perished while trying to save this person she was in Girl Scouts with 16 years ago."
On the other hand, if it were a family member like my young cousins, mom or dad, or grandma, I would probably attempt to hijack a tank or car (whatever vehicle is at my disposal) and spirit them out of harm's way. But it's almost for selfish reasons because I know at the next family gathering, someone would end up saying something like "well, Nani usually brings the halwa, but since Ms. Thing over there couldn't go back to save her, I guess we'll just have to go without dessert tonight." And then everyone would look at me and shake their heads.
I'm just kidding. I just don't want to reveal how crazily sentimental I am about my family. Seriously, I can't even imagine the insane stunts I would pull to get them to safety.
Question 4: Would I let a loved one head back to try and save someone?
Absolutely not. My guess is, I would find a heavy object and knock them out (not an easy feat, I admit) and then try to drag their unconscious self to safety. Certainly, my friends are allowed to make their own decisions, but hurling themselves into certain doom is not considered optional.
Question 5: What qualities do I lack in surviving a "Cloverfield" type situation?
Well, for starters, physical fitness. If pressed, I can run a mile or two without stopping. Slowly. I can walk for miles and miles, again, if pressed (and wearing the right shoes). But, I cannot sprint more than 30 feet. I am not adept at scrambling over debris, boulders, people lying supine on the ground having been trampled. I would be a tramplee, not a trampler.
There's also my contact lenses. The moment I got a bit of dust in my eyes, I'd be completely helpless. Take off my contacts, you say? Without corrective lenses, I can barely tell colors apart. I'd end up walking right up the monster and snuggling its leg thinking it was some wayward elephant escapee that could shelter me in my moment of need.
Another issue--I am irrationally decisive. This might be okay in some scenarios, but in a "monster eating the city" type crisis, one probably needs to spend at least a few seconds considering the validity of certain options. For example--if one does not know the scope, location, or motivation of your monster, you probably should not put yourself in an all-or-nothing situation (e.g. on a bridge). However, I would probably rely too much on my flawed instinct and would just run willy nilly in whatever direction everyone else would be running in. Not a great choice to make if everyone in front of you is running straight into a monster-tummy-territory.
Question 6: What do I think are our chances of dealing with a monster? What are our expectations of survival?
In Chicago, we have two advantages over our monsters. The first is weather--if a monster tried to attack us right now, he would mostly likely freeze to death because he, like most of us, forgot to purchase longjohns in advance of the season. The second advantage is space. We are a very spread out city. We are not encumbered, like Manhattan, by natural boundaries like water or New Jersey. Sorry, that was a weak New Jersey dig. Not only that but, I give a lot of street cred to the CPD. This city for the most part is run like a well-oiled machine. Not that the NYPD and US Military are incompetent by any means, but the CPD has some additional midwestern moxie that I'm proud to be protected by.
In closing, while I am not completely certain, I do believe it is probably premature to fear a monster invasion similar to what I saw last night during "Cloverfield" (again, damn that's one amazing movie...firefights, crazy angry alien insect things, excellent special effects, a brutally beautiful shot of the monster from the ground level towards the end right before the ersatz cinematographer gets eaten). However, I still think it is better to be ready in any case. Tomorrow I am starting my "Monster Preparedness Program" which entails my saving up for Lasik and running long distances while screaming, waving my arms, and saying "Oh my God!" over and over again.
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