Every Chuseok (Chinese/Taiwanese people will know it as "Moon Festival") the Korean students of UM have an annual Chuseok dinner, where they provide Korean food, though it costs money. Because of my inherent fear of large social gatherings and the exorbitant $15 fee, I didn't go.
This year, it was $10 for non-members. And this year, I was feeling a little braver about facing people, although I still felt $10 was bit of a rip-off.
I call my friends to come and share some Korean food. Robert, Andrew, and Feiqi come along.
After paying, we sat at the table... waiting. The event was supposed to be at 7 PM, but once again, people seemed to not pay much attention to the time. I have once heard that there used to be such a thing called "Korea time" where people come an hour late. I have also heard that such practices have since disappeared after the 1988 Seoul Olympics, feel free to correct me if I am mistaken.
This is 2010. GET ON WITH THE TIMES. (Pun not intended. But I like the bad pun.)
The performance by Sinabro was pretty good. However, there really wasn't much afterwards. A Korean man came and asked for Korean tutoring help, but said that only students who graduated from Korean high schools were eligible (but, kind sir, surely there is a more fool-proof way, like a test? Having gone to a Korean high school does not automatically ensure quality Korean, surely you know this?) Finally, there was food.
...Only one helping. Only one rice cake. Only a little bit of food for each. And then people left.
I was okay with the portions, but the three guys seemed a bit crushed at the exchange rate of $10 and the meager food. I admit, it seemed kind of like a ripoff. But having rice cake was oh so glorious. I have mixed feelings about this.
Oh well
WELL GUYS, WE'LL GO TO THE MOON FESTIVAL THING ON NORTH CAMPUS ON FRIDAY AND GET A MOON CAKE, ALRIGHT?
In addition, I am more at peace with my socializing issues. I have chatted up with others, they respond to me pretty politely. I still have a long ways to go, but I don't think I'll cry over the issue anymore... at least, for now. I have come to a realization that again, I will not be automatically shunned by groups of people before they even know me. I now have the courage to go talk to them, and I see that there is a potential, an open invitation, for me to hang out with others. Not everybody is an asshole, I can accept and see that there are nice people in this world.
I guess the summer job in Korea did help me get over some issues. Good to know.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Of Trials and Tribulations of Junior year, or at least, the first week of it.
The first week of junior year in college presents an ambiguous future, which is not as reassuring as it being off to a good start, or even a horrible, horrible, start.
Danling and I have more or less settled into our apartments; we have the minimum food for survival, finally got wireless today, and the house is pretty cozy once the furnitures are settled in. It takes time to cook sometimes, yes, but we seem to be semi-adept at it and actually cook decent food that we can stomach with some satisfaction.
However, there are some parts of the house that needs fixing, we need more food, and although we appreciate the quiet and privacy of a two-person apartment, we will not quite get over the apartment envy over Carriage House, Charter House, and that huge historical house built by freemasons where Robert, Feiqi, Annie, Sam, and Chris are living. Seriously, their houses are simply better-looking and better furnished than ours. Oh well.
My class schedules are bordering between "dude, WTF" and "that is sweet"; due to once-a-week lectures for my psych classes and odd time schedules, My Mondays through Thursdays are pretty class-free, and the classes so far have seemed okay. This will open up for studying time and chilling time.
Friday, however, may be difficult with the four discussion sections in a row. Perhaps it's time I invested on drinking coffee. Moreover, an English and Psychology double major equals lots and lots of reading and writing, which I enjoy, but there is such a thing called a limit. Also, one of my professors seem to have a bit of a habit to not make himself clear, and I'd like to really know if I'm supposed to read thirty stories, or two hundred, please, sir? Because knowing the right answer can really save my sanity here.
I seem to be doing okay with my friends so far, we're all jolly and happy.
However, a certain drama llama has been galloping around quite a while which I won't discuss, but I hope... things eventually work out. Yeah.
Outwardly, I am seemingly more sociable and approachable to others.
While inside, I still haven't grown up emotionally and the oblgation to act mature kind of drains me out. And let's not even get started on the subject of my identity issues.
Meanwhile, the rest of the college body seems to be partying it up on weekends and police cars/ambulance cars are whooping all around.
A chipmunk was found dead on our sidewalk.
I need to visit North Quad someday.
I'm sleepy and I really should sleep now.
Danling and I have more or less settled into our apartments; we have the minimum food for survival, finally got wireless today, and the house is pretty cozy once the furnitures are settled in. It takes time to cook sometimes, yes, but we seem to be semi-adept at it and actually cook decent food that we can stomach with some satisfaction.
However, there are some parts of the house that needs fixing, we need more food, and although we appreciate the quiet and privacy of a two-person apartment, we will not quite get over the apartment envy over Carriage House, Charter House, and that huge historical house built by freemasons where Robert, Feiqi, Annie, Sam, and Chris are living. Seriously, their houses are simply better-looking and better furnished than ours. Oh well.
My class schedules are bordering between "dude, WTF" and "that is sweet"; due to once-a-week lectures for my psych classes and odd time schedules, My Mondays through Thursdays are pretty class-free, and the classes so far have seemed okay. This will open up for studying time and chilling time.
Friday, however, may be difficult with the four discussion sections in a row. Perhaps it's time I invested on drinking coffee. Moreover, an English and Psychology double major equals lots and lots of reading and writing, which I enjoy, but there is such a thing called a limit. Also, one of my professors seem to have a bit of a habit to not make himself clear, and I'd like to really know if I'm supposed to read thirty stories, or two hundred, please, sir? Because knowing the right answer can really save my sanity here.
I seem to be doing okay with my friends so far, we're all jolly and happy.
However, a certain drama llama has been galloping around quite a while which I won't discuss, but I hope... things eventually work out. Yeah.
Outwardly, I am seemingly more sociable and approachable to others.
While inside, I still haven't grown up emotionally and the oblgation to act mature kind of drains me out. And let's not even get started on the subject of my identity issues.
Meanwhile, the rest of the college body seems to be partying it up on weekends and police cars/ambulance cars are whooping all around.
A chipmunk was found dead on our sidewalk.
I need to visit North Quad someday.
I'm sleepy and I really should sleep now.
Kendo practice.
Today (or technically, yesterday) was the first day of kendo practice after classes started.
I wake up early again, trudge along to the CCRB, change into my uniform, put on bogu (after Joe arrived, actually), and beat people up with a bamboo sword.
And I was excited. Really excited.
Perhaps it's not in my nature to become overly excited with things around the world that are not dogs and cats, but as much as I enjoyed doing kendo, I never seemed to have that sparkle in the eyes or the obvious excitement in the voice like the other kendo club friends seemed to possess whenever we do or speak of kendo.
It was, previously, also difficult to see how other people were doing their thing during practice, and it didn't even get in my head to correct them if they were doing something wrong. I was busy being corrected myself.
But at the first practice, I see myself having become a little more integrated with the club atmosphere, being excited to beat people up with sticks, correcting my stances based on others', and correcting a student whose kote stance may have broken people's arms off without intervention. Most importantly, I wasn't scared shitless of people coming at me with bamboo sticks anymore, at least not as scared as last year. I've even managed to chat and have fun with some of the new people who came for kendo lunch.
Perhaps it's the feeling of membership. Perhaps I feel more comfortable being in the club. Perhaps I've learned to chill and interact more like normal people. Hopefully this wasn't a "back-to-class" luck and will continue throughout.
My toe hurts, however. That peeled-off skin shouldn't be causing this much pain.
Also, colliding with a charging Joe-sensei and falling hurts too. It is important to dodge.
I wake up early again, trudge along to the CCRB, change into my uniform, put on bogu (after Joe arrived, actually), and beat people up with a bamboo sword.
And I was excited. Really excited.
Perhaps it's not in my nature to become overly excited with things around the world that are not dogs and cats, but as much as I enjoyed doing kendo, I never seemed to have that sparkle in the eyes or the obvious excitement in the voice like the other kendo club friends seemed to possess whenever we do or speak of kendo.
It was, previously, also difficult to see how other people were doing their thing during practice, and it didn't even get in my head to correct them if they were doing something wrong. I was busy being corrected myself.
But at the first practice, I see myself having become a little more integrated with the club atmosphere, being excited to beat people up with sticks, correcting my stances based on others', and correcting a student whose kote stance may have broken people's arms off without intervention. Most importantly, I wasn't scared shitless of people coming at me with bamboo sticks anymore, at least not as scared as last year. I've even managed to chat and have fun with some of the new people who came for kendo lunch.
Perhaps it's the feeling of membership. Perhaps I feel more comfortable being in the club. Perhaps I've learned to chill and interact more like normal people. Hopefully this wasn't a "back-to-class" luck and will continue throughout.
My toe hurts, however. That peeled-off skin shouldn't be causing this much pain.
Also, colliding with a charging Joe-sensei and falling hurts too. It is important to dodge.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Last Lazy Day of Summer (?!)
The reason the word "summer" has a parenthesis filled with punctuation marks of disbelief is because, while technically summer, I fail to see the current weather as such.
As I am typing on my blog, I am wearing a jacket, while covering the rest of my body in my mother's quilt while sitting cross-legged. I rub my hands together every now and then so as to keep them from freezing. Meanwhile, it has been raining outside for hours, and the wind is blowing profusely. Just sticking my head outside makes my arm sprout goosebumps and my legs grow weak. According to the internet, it is currently 12 degrees Celsius outside (that's exactly 53.6 degrees Fahrenheit for you Americans who use odd measuring systems).
As most populations of the world are well aware, today is the last day of August, and I feel like I'm in a refrigerator. As far as my body is aware, this isn't summer anymore.
I should probably be grateful to be cold while the Asian countries are suffocating from heat and humidity that won't let go until mid-September, and by god, I do know how hot it can be there. But if you must pardon me, I'm still too flabbergasted by the season dissonance. Czech Republic isn't that sweltering hot of a place to begin with, yes, but I don't recall it being this cold so soon and so consistently in years. I was wearing a T-shirt and shorts just last week!
Meanwhile, it's my last day here before I leave once more for Ann Arbor to begin my junior year of college. After I've finished tutoring, I really haven't been up to much asides from packing and carrying out basic functions of survival. As I have finished packing, there isn't much to do today either. I should be using this time to enjoy myself one last time, to savor the idleness of summer vacation, but... as my anxiety over moving in an apartment, anxiety over junior year, anxiety over wanting to ACTUALLY socialize THIS YEAR with my own countryfolk despite my ongoing fear/shyness has run my brain amok and I just sit on the sofa like a burnt-out machine, as my brain is on a momentary rut.
The future in Ann Arbor isn't suddenly going to be all rosy and happy just because of my getting there. No, I'm not saying I've had a depressing college life so far, it's far from it. But I still have a ways to go if I want to get rid of my (realively minor) anxieties.
Meanwhile, I'll enjoy living as a human popsicle for today before I return to wearing short clothes again in the States.
As I am typing on my blog, I am wearing a jacket, while covering the rest of my body in my mother's quilt while sitting cross-legged. I rub my hands together every now and then so as to keep them from freezing. Meanwhile, it has been raining outside for hours, and the wind is blowing profusely. Just sticking my head outside makes my arm sprout goosebumps and my legs grow weak. According to the internet, it is currently 12 degrees Celsius outside (that's exactly 53.6 degrees Fahrenheit for you Americans who use odd measuring systems).
As most populations of the world are well aware, today is the last day of August, and I feel like I'm in a refrigerator. As far as my body is aware, this isn't summer anymore.
I should probably be grateful to be cold while the Asian countries are suffocating from heat and humidity that won't let go until mid-September, and by god, I do know how hot it can be there. But if you must pardon me, I'm still too flabbergasted by the season dissonance. Czech Republic isn't that sweltering hot of a place to begin with, yes, but I don't recall it being this cold so soon and so consistently in years. I was wearing a T-shirt and shorts just last week!
Meanwhile, it's my last day here before I leave once more for Ann Arbor to begin my junior year of college. After I've finished tutoring, I really haven't been up to much asides from packing and carrying out basic functions of survival. As I have finished packing, there isn't much to do today either. I should be using this time to enjoy myself one last time, to savor the idleness of summer vacation, but... as my anxiety over moving in an apartment, anxiety over junior year, anxiety over wanting to ACTUALLY socialize THIS YEAR with my own countryfolk despite my ongoing fear/shyness has run my brain amok and I just sit on the sofa like a burnt-out machine, as my brain is on a momentary rut.
The future in Ann Arbor isn't suddenly going to be all rosy and happy just because of my getting there. No, I'm not saying I've had a depressing college life so far, it's far from it. But I still have a ways to go if I want to get rid of my (realively minor) anxieties.
Meanwhile, I'll enjoy living as a human popsicle for today before I return to wearing short clothes again in the States.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Haircut
I thought I needed to write something on this blog to keep it alive, lest I leave it alone for months and let it fester and die. Watch me writing about mundane things in life and get utterly bored!
I cut my hair today.
There is nothing dramatic or spectacular about this; I was not pressured to cut my hair in any way, nor did the hairdresser say any odd or silly things during the cut. Hell, he didn't even mess up my hair. He's a really good hairdresser, which is why I keep choosing to get my hair cut in CZ instead of in AA; he's a safe option (also, the one time I did get my hair cut in AA, it became a mess after a month or two.)
If there was anything worth saying about my haircut, it was that my hair is the shortest it has ever been since... actually, I think this is the shortest it's ever been.
I've been near obsessed with having my hair short since last summer, and for some reason, the length keeps getting shorter and shorter every time I get a haircut.
No, it's not about maintenance; I don't mind maintaining my hair at whatever length it is, and I've had my hair fairly long once without problems. It's not about preference, either. I still think long hair is just as pretty, and I fawn over hairstyles that I cannot achieve with my hair length. So... why am I trying to get my hair shorter? Is it a statement? Am I rebelling against some subconscious message that I have yet to decipher? Am I viewing this as stress relief? I'll never know.
Although, I must say, I do look a lot better in short hair than long hair, which is a relief, since I can continue my inexplicable quest of chopping off my locks without looking hideous. I just hope I'll stop myself before I decide to just shave it all off, because with the rate I'm going, it doesn't seem entirely impossible.
I cut my hair today.
There is nothing dramatic or spectacular about this; I was not pressured to cut my hair in any way, nor did the hairdresser say any odd or silly things during the cut. Hell, he didn't even mess up my hair. He's a really good hairdresser, which is why I keep choosing to get my hair cut in CZ instead of in AA; he's a safe option (also, the one time I did get my hair cut in AA, it became a mess after a month or two.)
If there was anything worth saying about my haircut, it was that my hair is the shortest it has ever been since... actually, I think this is the shortest it's ever been.
I've been near obsessed with having my hair short since last summer, and for some reason, the length keeps getting shorter and shorter every time I get a haircut.
No, it's not about maintenance; I don't mind maintaining my hair at whatever length it is, and I've had my hair fairly long once without problems. It's not about preference, either. I still think long hair is just as pretty, and I fawn over hairstyles that I cannot achieve with my hair length. So... why am I trying to get my hair shorter? Is it a statement? Am I rebelling against some subconscious message that I have yet to decipher? Am I viewing this as stress relief? I'll never know.
Although, I must say, I do look a lot better in short hair than long hair, which is a relief, since I can continue my inexplicable quest of chopping off my locks without looking hideous. I just hope I'll stop myself before I decide to just shave it all off, because with the rate I'm going, it doesn't seem entirely impossible.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Predators are eating my soul!!!
My dad is a typical man when it comes to movie tastes; he generally likes people kicking ass, stuff blowing up, gunshots, carchase, testosterone-riddled stuff. We watched "Salt" together several days ago and he really liked it.
He then suggested that we watch "Predators" on cinema yesterday. It seems interesting, he says.
Predators?!
I try to do my best to turn down the offer as politely as I could. I try to divert his attention to "Inception", which I wouldn't mind re-watching. He seems bored. I suggest "The Sorcerer's Apprentice" instead, at least that will be more entertaining than Predators! He asks if "The Expendables" (another testosterone-riddled film) isn't on cinema yet. No, it isn't, dad. I tried not waking up my dad yesterday from his nap, but he woke up on time anyways and urged me to get dressed.
Let's watch Predators! Dad says, pronouncing the title "Preh-di-AY-tors".
Somebody help me.
Yes, I could have just said, "No, I don't want to watch Preh-di-AY-tors, it seems really bad", but then my dad is pretty stressed with work as of current, as his business negotiation is dragging longer than anticipated. Manly movies make him feel better. If he wanted to watch it so much, who am I do take that away from him? Better to just grin and bear it.
I decide that if I can't enjoy this movie, I'll just be snarky about it with all my might.
So the movie starts off with a bunch of people waking up from freefall, only to find themselves stranded in a strange forest terrain. The hero of the movie is an American soldier who refuses to reveal his name, and who looks and acts like a testosterone-riddled douchebag. Other members include an old Mexican drug enforcer, a Russian soldier, ablack RUF member, a Japanese Yakuza, a doctor, and an ex-convict who, I recall, was described as, "FBI's most wanted criminal". Oh, also, an American female soldier, beautiful and skilled and knowledgable and just pretty much all around perfect.
>> I see what's going on; the Predators will kill them one by one, and then the American man and woman are going to be the last ones to survive. How predictable. Also, what is with the female characters in Hollywood blockbusters being beautiful and talented and flawless? Forget about girls needing role models, real women aren't that perfect! Women can have flaws, too, you know, and only a handful of them are actually beautiful! That woman is a male fantasy combined with feminist ideas, not a real character!
After a bit of wandering around, they realize that they're in an alien planet, and they still don't know why the hell they were chosen and thrown off on this island. Suddenly, they are attacked by alien creatures, and they try with all their might to fend them off. After they escape generally unharmed, they realize that, oh hey, the Mexican man is missing.
>> Ethnic cleansing, commence!
Turns out that the Mexican guy seems to be injured and is calling for help. They think of helping, but our protagonist douchebag says it's a trap and everybody goes their merry way. Sure enough, it's revealed to be a trap, and the Mexican man is already dead.
>>Nice try with trying to avoid the whole "Black guy dies first", movie, but the black guy will die pretty soon. In fact, I think he might just be the next one to go.
And in fact, the next guy to die is... the RUF guy.
>> No brains are required to predict the outcome of this movie.
Next, the female soldier calls out on our hero for using them as bait to see who the killers are, which resulted in the black guy dying. The hero is all, "Yes, at least we know who they are now" and is pretty cool about it. Later, he uses the doctor as bait to try and snipe another Predator.
>>Maybe it's time we started worrying about male role models instead. That guy may be good at surviving, but he's a complete bastard.
The cast then meets another black guy, who's been dispatched here "ten seasons ago" and is still surviving. Naturally, he knows a bit about what's going on here.
>> Oh, hello, Morpheus!
They all chill at his hideout, where a bunch of foreshadowing of the future points of the movie occurs. 1) The criminal is completely messed up, with his early comments about wanting to do drugs and quote, "raping bitches time", and then we see that he also had experience with brother-sister incest.
>>I... do stuff like that fulfill categories for "FBI's most wanted?" I mean, they're all bad crimes, yes, but aren't FBI's wanted criminals have done something far more worse, like murder a bunch of people or plot acts of terrorism, something like that? This is just like, the movie needed to show the audience that's he's a dangerous criminal, so they made him commit all sorts of sick things people can think of. At any rate, his chance of survival is thinning.
2) The Japanese Yakuza speaks for the first time, and shows great interest in a very old katana stowed in the hideout.
>>Which means he will do "Cool Asian stuff" with a katana. See why Hollywood needs to use Japanese people as Cool Asians? They'll do cool stuff with a katana!
3) Morpheus (the guy had a different name in the film, but I can't remember) mentions a Predator spaceship.
>> Gasp! Maybe the hero will try to use that as a means to escape!
4) The Russian guy shows people photos of his children.
>> **BIG RED SIGN** HE'S GOING TO DIE.
To make things short, Morpheus tries to kill all the cast, Predators invade hideout, running away ensues, Morpheus dies first.
>> All the black people die first, huh? Is there a hierarchy for ethnic minorities in this movie or something?
Then the Russian guy dies next.
>> Of course.
Later, when the remaining people seems to have escaped safely, a Predator turns up, and the criminal dies.
>> Huh. Thought he'd survive till the end to wreck havoc to the remaining cast. Oh, well, I guess somebody else will.
The cast runs away to a very grassy field with tall grass, another Predator shows up, Japanese Yakuza tells other to go away, and a samurai-esque fight using the katana ensues.
>> I KNEW IT! And that's why they had to run away to a very grassy field!
Katana fight takes up a lot of screen time.
>> Men! Kote! Do! Do! Kote! Do! (Taking up kendo will make you analyze moves.)
Yakuza kills Predator, Predator collapses and dies, Yakuza collapses from injury and also dies.
>> Stereotypical to a T. Also, ethnic cleansing, complete!
Now we have the doctor, the chick, and the hero. Doctor gets injured. Chick wants to help him, hero says he's dead weight now and wants to leave him. In the end, the hero goes to spaceship alone.
>> Douche~!
Chick and doctor gets captured by Predators, hero finds ship, blah blah blah. Fast forward to the doctor turning out to be a bad guy. He stabs the chick with a scapel that has paralyzing poison in it.
>> Huh, what?! Well, okay, so the guy wrecking havoc is the doctor!
So the doctor turns out to have been a serial killer back on Earth. He gives a little speech to the chick, and I quote, "Back there... I was the freak. But here? With all these monsters? I'm normal! I want to stay here."
>> WHAT.
Then it turns out that the hero did not take the ship after all, which is fine and dandy, since the ship got blown up anyway, and he returns to 1) rescue the chick 2) use the doctor as a grenade-ridden bait to lure the Predator and 3) kill off the Predators while shirtless.
>> Aaaaargh, testosterone! Aaaaaaaargh! Stab, stab, pew, pew, pew!
Also, didn't he state earlier that injured people were dead weight? Why is he helping the chick, now, then? She's paralyzed, therefore DEAD WEIGHT. Oh, he's being all nice and caring to her now? So, you're only dead weight unless you're a hot, skilled chick? Forget about the doctor being a bad guy, the hero is a hypocritical jerk!
So, the Predators are all dead, for now. The surviving hero and the heroine of the movie finally reveal their names to each other, and the audience.
Hero: (soft, kind voice) I'm Royce.
Heroine: (smiles) I'm Isabelle.
>> Oh, okay, they tell us their names RIGHT AT THE END OF THE MOVIE. I'm soooooooo impressed!
So ROYCE and ISABELLE sees more soldiers being parachuted down from the sky, which, we never find out the reason about.
Royce: Okay... now, let's find a way to get off this f***ing planet.
The two walk away, fade out, THE END.
Cue credits with completely unfitting rock and roll music.
>>That's it?! Way to be anticlimactic! The movie sucks! There's no plot, it's stereoptypical to a painful degree, and the characters are not likeable, relatable, or even redeemable. What was the purpose of this movie?!
Well, at least I hope my dad liked it.
However, as my dad and I walked out the theater, dad says,
"The movie was not as good as expected, wasn't it? It had no plot."
WHAT.
I turn around in disbelief. "You're the one who wanted to watch it so much! We watched this movie because you wanted to!"
"I know. I just thought it would be interesting. There's no plot it this movie at all."
"It's a movie about alien creatures killing people. You expected plot?!"
"Well, at least an explanation to why they were there and all. There was nothing. Maybe we should have watched 'The Socerer's Apprentice'."
"I've been telling you we should watch that instead! Where were you when I told you that?!"
"We can watch that next week!"
...
THANKS, DAD, I just watched a really bad movie for nothing.
At least we had sushi for dinner.
He then suggested that we watch "Predators" on cinema yesterday. It seems interesting, he says.
Predators?!
I try to do my best to turn down the offer as politely as I could. I try to divert his attention to "Inception", which I wouldn't mind re-watching. He seems bored. I suggest "The Sorcerer's Apprentice" instead, at least that will be more entertaining than Predators! He asks if "The Expendables" (another testosterone-riddled film) isn't on cinema yet. No, it isn't, dad. I tried not waking up my dad yesterday from his nap, but he woke up on time anyways and urged me to get dressed.
Let's watch Predators! Dad says, pronouncing the title "Preh-di-AY-tors".
Somebody help me.
Yes, I could have just said, "No, I don't want to watch Preh-di-AY-tors, it seems really bad", but then my dad is pretty stressed with work as of current, as his business negotiation is dragging longer than anticipated. Manly movies make him feel better. If he wanted to watch it so much, who am I do take that away from him? Better to just grin and bear it.
I decide that if I can't enjoy this movie, I'll just be snarky about it with all my might.
So the movie starts off with a bunch of people waking up from freefall, only to find themselves stranded in a strange forest terrain. The hero of the movie is an American soldier who refuses to reveal his name, and who looks and acts like a testosterone-riddled douchebag. Other members include an old Mexican drug enforcer, a Russian soldier, ablack RUF member, a Japanese Yakuza, a doctor, and an ex-convict who, I recall, was described as, "FBI's most wanted criminal". Oh, also, an American female soldier, beautiful and skilled and knowledgable and just pretty much all around perfect.
>> I see what's going on; the Predators will kill them one by one, and then the American man and woman are going to be the last ones to survive. How predictable. Also, what is with the female characters in Hollywood blockbusters being beautiful and talented and flawless? Forget about girls needing role models, real women aren't that perfect! Women can have flaws, too, you know, and only a handful of them are actually beautiful! That woman is a male fantasy combined with feminist ideas, not a real character!
And speak no more of the Japanese Yakuza, who's silent and not visibly freaked out by all this. Because he's the "Cool Asian", calm and collected and doing cool martial arts stuff. Bet five dollars that he's going to do some "Cool Asian action" later in the film. God, this movie is already stereotypical.
After a bit of wandering around, they realize that they're in an alien planet, and they still don't know why the hell they were chosen and thrown off on this island. Suddenly, they are attacked by alien creatures, and they try with all their might to fend them off. After they escape generally unharmed, they realize that, oh hey, the Mexican man is missing.
>> Ethnic cleansing, commence!
Turns out that the Mexican guy seems to be injured and is calling for help. They think of helping, but our protagonist douchebag says it's a trap and everybody goes their merry way. Sure enough, it's revealed to be a trap, and the Mexican man is already dead.
>>Nice try with trying to avoid the whole "Black guy dies first", movie, but the black guy will die pretty soon. In fact, I think he might just be the next one to go.
And in fact, the next guy to die is... the RUF guy.
>> No brains are required to predict the outcome of this movie.
Next, the female soldier calls out on our hero for using them as bait to see who the killers are, which resulted in the black guy dying. The hero is all, "Yes, at least we know who they are now" and is pretty cool about it. Later, he uses the doctor as bait to try and snipe another Predator.
>>Maybe it's time we started worrying about male role models instead. That guy may be good at surviving, but he's a complete bastard.
The cast then meets another black guy, who's been dispatched here "ten seasons ago" and is still surviving. Naturally, he knows a bit about what's going on here.
>> Oh, hello, Morpheus!
They all chill at his hideout, where a bunch of foreshadowing of the future points of the movie occurs. 1) The criminal is completely messed up, with his early comments about wanting to do drugs and quote, "raping bitches time", and then we see that he also had experience with brother-sister incest.
>>I... do stuff like that fulfill categories for "FBI's most wanted?" I mean, they're all bad crimes, yes, but aren't FBI's wanted criminals have done something far more worse, like murder a bunch of people or plot acts of terrorism, something like that? This is just like, the movie needed to show the audience that's he's a dangerous criminal, so they made him commit all sorts of sick things people can think of. At any rate, his chance of survival is thinning.
2) The Japanese Yakuza speaks for the first time, and shows great interest in a very old katana stowed in the hideout.
>>Which means he will do "Cool Asian stuff" with a katana. See why Hollywood needs to use Japanese people as Cool Asians? They'll do cool stuff with a katana!
3) Morpheus (the guy had a different name in the film, but I can't remember) mentions a Predator spaceship.
>> Gasp! Maybe the hero will try to use that as a means to escape!
4) The Russian guy shows people photos of his children.
>> **BIG RED SIGN** HE'S GOING TO DIE.
To make things short, Morpheus tries to kill all the cast, Predators invade hideout, running away ensues, Morpheus dies first.
>> All the black people die first, huh? Is there a hierarchy for ethnic minorities in this movie or something?
Then the Russian guy dies next.
>> Of course.
Later, when the remaining people seems to have escaped safely, a Predator turns up, and the criminal dies.
>> Huh. Thought he'd survive till the end to wreck havoc to the remaining cast. Oh, well, I guess somebody else will.
The cast runs away to a very grassy field with tall grass, another Predator shows up, Japanese Yakuza tells other to go away, and a samurai-esque fight using the katana ensues.
>> I KNEW IT! And that's why they had to run away to a very grassy field!
Katana fight takes up a lot of screen time.
>> Men! Kote! Do! Do! Kote! Do! (Taking up kendo will make you analyze moves.)
Yakuza kills Predator, Predator collapses and dies, Yakuza collapses from injury and also dies.
>> Stereotypical to a T. Also, ethnic cleansing, complete!
Now we have the doctor, the chick, and the hero. Doctor gets injured. Chick wants to help him, hero says he's dead weight now and wants to leave him. In the end, the hero goes to spaceship alone.
>> Douche~!
Chick and doctor gets captured by Predators, hero finds ship, blah blah blah. Fast forward to the doctor turning out to be a bad guy. He stabs the chick with a scapel that has paralyzing poison in it.
>> Huh, what?! Well, okay, so the guy wrecking havoc is the doctor!
So the doctor turns out to have been a serial killer back on Earth. He gives a little speech to the chick, and I quote, "Back there... I was the freak. But here? With all these monsters? I'm normal! I want to stay here."
>> WHAT.
Okay, first off, Being just about the only human in a planet full of ugly aliens DOESN'T make you normal. You'd still be considered a freak in that planet! Second of all, THE PREDATORS ARE OUT TO KILL YOU. WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO STAY HERE?! Also, what did stabbing the chick do to help your cause?! Now they'll know you're the bad guy and they'll kill you. Good job, idiot!
Then it turns out that the hero did not take the ship after all, which is fine and dandy, since the ship got blown up anyway, and he returns to 1) rescue the chick 2) use the doctor as a grenade-ridden bait to lure the Predator and 3) kill off the Predators while shirtless.
>> Aaaaargh, testosterone! Aaaaaaaargh! Stab, stab, pew, pew, pew!
Also, didn't he state earlier that injured people were dead weight? Why is he helping the chick, now, then? She's paralyzed, therefore DEAD WEIGHT. Oh, he's being all nice and caring to her now? So, you're only dead weight unless you're a hot, skilled chick? Forget about the doctor being a bad guy, the hero is a hypocritical jerk!
So, the Predators are all dead, for now. The surviving hero and the heroine of the movie finally reveal their names to each other, and the audience.
Hero: (soft, kind voice) I'm Royce.
Heroine: (smiles) I'm Isabelle.
>> Oh, okay, they tell us their names RIGHT AT THE END OF THE MOVIE. I'm soooooooo impressed!
Look at the tension between the two! It's like they'll start doing it right away if the environment was a little less hostile! Oh, and it's morning now, they're sleeping side by side, awwww, how romantic, IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR?
So ROYCE and ISABELLE sees more soldiers being parachuted down from the sky, which, we never find out the reason about.
Royce: Okay... now, let's find a way to get off this f***ing planet.
The two walk away, fade out, THE END.
Cue credits with completely unfitting rock and roll music.
>>That's it?! Way to be anticlimactic! The movie sucks! There's no plot, it's stereoptypical to a painful degree, and the characters are not likeable, relatable, or even redeemable. What was the purpose of this movie?!
Well, at least I hope my dad liked it.
However, as my dad and I walked out the theater, dad says,
"The movie was not as good as expected, wasn't it? It had no plot."
WHAT.
I turn around in disbelief. "You're the one who wanted to watch it so much! We watched this movie because you wanted to!"
"I know. I just thought it would be interesting. There's no plot it this movie at all."
"It's a movie about alien creatures killing people. You expected plot?!"
"Well, at least an explanation to why they were there and all. There was nothing. Maybe we should have watched 'The Socerer's Apprentice'."
"I've been telling you we should watch that instead! Where were you when I told you that?!"
"We can watch that next week!"
...
THANKS, DAD, I just watched a really bad movie for nothing.
At least we had sushi for dinner.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Culture Shock?
When I first came to the Czech Republic seven and a half years ago, it was late at night; we just went to our new house (that my dad, who went there a month earlier, already rented), dropped to bed, and fell asleep.
The next morning, I woke up sleeping in strange bedsheets, empty white walls, and strange smells. Though my brain that was in charge of reason and logic said, "oh, you're in CZ now, don't you remember? You haven't toured the house properly, that's why it looks all strange", my brain in charge of emotions were all, "...where am I? This place is so strange and foreign. I miss the atmosphere back home." and as a result, I felt like crying.
This morning, after returning from my month-long Korea trip, I feel something akin to this. I really wonder why. This is hardly my first time going to Korea since living here. We've stayed in Korea longer in some previous trips, so can somebody please explain to me why my own house suddenly feels foreign and strange again?
Oh, yes, it was awesome returning to the cool temperature of 17 degrees Celcius summer evening after all that heat and humidity that drove me mad for an entire month. It was nice seeing my immediate family again. But as I wake up this morning, the feeling of wanting to cry had suddenly re-surfaced.
Everything is strange; the TV screen is suddenly too big. The toilet seat is too high. It's too quiet. There's no Korean milk or junk food or drinks in the fridge. It's practically cold here. And my trip already feels like a very long, distant dream.
My only explanation is that the past month, I've been steeped in nostalgia and familiarity. My aunt's lived in her house for about seven years now, and I'm getting very used to visiting it. My grandmother's old apartment is just two bus stops away; even though she no longer lives there, the area is the most nostalgic place to me in the world. Also, I see my other relatives, who are equally familiar. I'm no stranger to the subway and bus and taxi, and although I've went to work at a new place and went to see some new places, it's still, all in all, Korea. I know how the places generally look like and how it all is. Damn, even the screechy cicadas are familar to me.
Korea is also hectic and trend-conscious; wherever you set place in urban areas, there's the hot new thing, and things are all very active and exciting. I didn't have friends this year to hang out with, and I've moaned and bitched about that, yes, but there's still new places to go, new things to do, and awesome, awesome food that makes you feel better and forget about it. Being alone just made me completely immersed to the atmosphere much more than when I was there with my immediate familiy.
Compared to Korea, CZ is really chill and laid-back. There's about ten times more foliage, less cars and smoke, more houses. Downtown Prague, while you don't get sick of it after being there ten thousand times (thank god), I've been there, done that. There's no BRAND NEW THING that will suddenly catch my interest. And European candy is awesome too, but Korea just wins by nostalgia factor and all.
I don't know. I just miss Korea. I mean, I've always missed it when I wasn't there, but I miss it more than ever for the first time in a long time. Oh well, need to find EXCITEMENT for the last month, I guess.
The next morning, I woke up sleeping in strange bedsheets, empty white walls, and strange smells. Though my brain that was in charge of reason and logic said, "oh, you're in CZ now, don't you remember? You haven't toured the house properly, that's why it looks all strange", my brain in charge of emotions were all, "...where am I? This place is so strange and foreign. I miss the atmosphere back home." and as a result, I felt like crying.
This morning, after returning from my month-long Korea trip, I feel something akin to this. I really wonder why. This is hardly my first time going to Korea since living here. We've stayed in Korea longer in some previous trips, so can somebody please explain to me why my own house suddenly feels foreign and strange again?
Oh, yes, it was awesome returning to the cool temperature of 17 degrees Celcius summer evening after all that heat and humidity that drove me mad for an entire month. It was nice seeing my immediate family again. But as I wake up this morning, the feeling of wanting to cry had suddenly re-surfaced.
Everything is strange; the TV screen is suddenly too big. The toilet seat is too high. It's too quiet. There's no Korean milk or junk food or drinks in the fridge. It's practically cold here. And my trip already feels like a very long, distant dream.
My only explanation is that the past month, I've been steeped in nostalgia and familiarity. My aunt's lived in her house for about seven years now, and I'm getting very used to visiting it. My grandmother's old apartment is just two bus stops away; even though she no longer lives there, the area is the most nostalgic place to me in the world. Also, I see my other relatives, who are equally familiar. I'm no stranger to the subway and bus and taxi, and although I've went to work at a new place and went to see some new places, it's still, all in all, Korea. I know how the places generally look like and how it all is. Damn, even the screechy cicadas are familar to me.
Korea is also hectic and trend-conscious; wherever you set place in urban areas, there's the hot new thing, and things are all very active and exciting. I didn't have friends this year to hang out with, and I've moaned and bitched about that, yes, but there's still new places to go, new things to do, and awesome, awesome food that makes you feel better and forget about it. Being alone just made me completely immersed to the atmosphere much more than when I was there with my immediate familiy.
Compared to Korea, CZ is really chill and laid-back. There's about ten times more foliage, less cars and smoke, more houses. Downtown Prague, while you don't get sick of it after being there ten thousand times (thank god), I've been there, done that. There's no BRAND NEW THING that will suddenly catch my interest. And European candy is awesome too, but Korea just wins by nostalgia factor and all.
I don't know. I just miss Korea. I mean, I've always missed it when I wasn't there, but I miss it more than ever for the first time in a long time. Oh well, need to find EXCITEMENT for the last month, I guess.
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