***
Accompanying material:

Metropolis Unbound - David Bordwell
Observations on Film Art
***

I'm not too ashamed to admit that I've never seen more than 25 minutes of Metropolis. I've tried, 7 times in total, to sit through it but I always seem to fall asleep at about the same 10 minute mark into the film and wake up at around the same final 1/3rd before calling it a day and taking it back to the Video Ezy at which point the old man with the blue glasses that owns the place would again, laugh at me.

I don't think it's a silent film thing, I've begrudgingly sat through a back to back presentation of Battleship Potemkin and Oktyabr, which would arguably kill most people. Individually of course they're both worthwhile and thrilling and game changing as far as cinema goes (please don't shoot me Felicity!), but a double bill, well that's just a torture device.

And I'd be the first to admit. I've slept through a lot of films at uni. I don't know, once you start watching 4 prerequisite films a week in lecture halls that promote drowsiness it doesn't matter if you're watching Battle of Algiers (which you know is "important"), you will start nodding off (which I did). But that's not it either. I have tried to watch Metropolis in a variety of settings, with a variety of different soundtrack versions, at different times of the day, all to no avail.

Mr. Bordwell's article has ignited a renewed spark. Perhaps with all these gleaming new insights in mind I can give it a final college try.

***

Reading back on what I wrote last night, I must apologise for the lack of focus, structure, or anything really. I was trying to think while maintaining a conversation with my mother and the Quantum of Solace was also competing for my attention in the background. A lot of things, other than my thoughts, were happening.

I guess what I ended up concluding is that, I tend to glorify "real life". Something inside me obviously feels that I would never actually live that life. Man, woman, house, home, children, animal. I'm sure it's somehow Jungian, that it has something to do with the fact that I never grew up having all that. I'm also sure that some overpaid shrink would be able to trace my dramatic aspirations to this "lacking" childhood. It's simpler than that. I like to play house, because I am a child. For a period last year I had a brief go at domesticity. The relationship itself was a bit of a joke, neither one of us gave enough of ourselves for it to be in any way real but you know what my favourite moment was? That first day I stayed at his apartment for the whole day by myself without him, I made sure I cleaned, and had dinner in the oven by the time he stepped in the door. As he ate what I had prepared for us, he told me that was his favourite meal. That moment, like some stepford wife, was probably the highlight of the entire 8 month period I spent with that boy. The feminist inside me is rearing to have a right thrashing of that version of me.

Last night I was listening to a three week old podcast of LNL with Phil Adams. They were talking about the massacre in Congo and how rape has now turned in a weapon of war. The statistics are not shocking, though alarming. The UN estimates that over 200,000 girls and women has been raped during the extent of the civil war, and growing. With the youngest victims being about 3, and the oldest being 75. A vast majority of these rape cases are perpetrated against teens 12-17 years old, and an even more disturbingly large majority being gang rape of up to 7 armed soldiers on one girl in public. It's actually more shocking how unsurprising these horrific stats are, but the most interesting thing to have come out of these events is this women's movement that's starting to happen. Because of the public nature of these crimes, it's allowed for these victims, these women, to have conversations, march the streets even. It's prompted them to want change, to have women in positions of power. It's kind of exciting, to have a renewed surge in a women's movement, as opposed to the three steps back we're taking in our more developed worlds, and in my own world.

We're going to watch Mao's Last Dancer now, so that'll do for tonight before I get too distracted again.

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The Glorious Mundane

When I think about all the stories I've been drawn to, had affected me in some way, they all seem to follow a similar tangent. Intimate stories mostly in search of home, trying to find some kind of purpose other than the tedious to family, proving to myself that there is art to heart. There's comfort in knowing that remarkable people, people I admire would be as interested in a small and insignificant life as I am. I don't think I'm supposed to want that, as an actor I mean. I didn't think I ever would either, but here I am, looking on longingly at the final shot of Away We Go as some kind of final reward -- uncomplicated bliss. I know that a lot of my friends, people I thought I was much more alike, still find that ghastly, many of them find Away We Go ghastly dull. Perhaps this is some passing phase.

A recurring theme of the past few years of my life has been this fort building game of mine. Finding out what I need, and discarding what I don't. Learning to live out of boxes and scuttle everything that constitutes a home with me. I had a hermit crab when I was younger, it never got a name, it didn't feel right to name something that carried its whole existence on its own back. Like any egotistical child who read too much and had too much time on her hands, I found great poetry in my hermit crab. I took pride in my ability to adapt, falling into new homes, new friendship circles, new living situations so easily. I guess I still am like that.

The pursuit of my perfect world becomes harder when each move puts more distance between the where I am now and where I was. I wish I could pack people and relationships up in boxes like my books. That would be the major shift from when I was young I guess, when friends became what they were meant to be, my lifeblood. If I had to put a finger on why this sudden wanting of the small life came about, it would simply be because of the fact that I finally found the the joy of something like family through my clinging onto to people I want to keep in my life, and now there's a growing urgency because it's becoming clear that I would never have everything I want in this utopia of mine. Who cares about all the new forms of communication in this world, for all your skypes and facebooks and emails, best they can do is maintain an ebbing stream of consciousness. As my roots in New York plant itself more firmly, I feel a pull from everyone back home. All the people who helped me find my feet, made a woman out of me, if you will, people who knew every embarrassing minute detail of my life, why aren't you here already? 2012 couldn't come any sooner, and when the moment arrives, you'd all better live up to your word. 'sall I'm saying.

With growing intensity, I've been wanting to do what we've always talked about, to drop everything and move to Oaxaca together for a month or two, or three. That would be enough for me, a small piece of my perfect small life. Soon, my kitties, soon.

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Home Song Stories

It's time to plan another trip to China. It's been 3 years since the last time I visited. Last time, that happened.

No more week long death rituals this time, for which I'm thankful. No more monasteries either, which is a bit of a shame. China is always one of those place I reluctantly go because I have to, to visit people I feel a vague connection to, eat, sleep, and shop because there's nothing else to do. It's always a good time to catch up on some reading, and to catch a glimpse of teen Asia that which I so despise through hours upon hours of Chinese channel [V].

My diaspora exists somewhere within the collective unconscious of expats who grew up to run away. My memories of 'home' are happy and few, and of a place that is no longer there. I have no allegiance with the murky cosmopolitanism clouding those cities I'm supposed to call my own. Most of my mothers friends who have not let go of their motherland think I'm some kind of haughty, rejecting my traditions and culture. They think they understand on some primitive way, treating me like a rebellious teenager, "Westernised". What they couldn't understand is that this could never be some cookie cutter rebellion. Away with everything Chinese and long live the Queen! The traditions I remember are my own. Making wontons with my mother and grandmother. The music, my mother's performances. The dances I led in primary school. All the things that belong to the "New China" movement while it was still in its infancy. I embrace all of these. The bubbling motion happening now within a certain sect of Chinese intellectuals creating new art forms is incredibly exciting to me.

What I absolutely despise is the mass whoring out of that particular brand of "Chinese Culture", the kind that's meaningless. The kind you wear to show off the past you do not part take in. Someone once said of me in a somewhat dissenting tone, that apart from speaking in Chinese with my mother I may as well be white. Well, what should I do to satisfy your objectification of Chinese? Does it have to be specifically regional, or would anything that could be generally considered exotic to you be enough? My grasp of the language is very much the defining streak of my Asian identity. It's my only key to all the nuances of the culture that does not make me nauseous.

I'm hoping that my upcoming trip would consist solely of meeting interesting, like minded people, and a minimal of having to look at that which I hate. I know it's an annoying tendency that I have, my absolute refusal of having anything I don't like in my world. But it makes my world better, and until something happens that would make me feel different I don't see why I should be the one to change.

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sonatine

I still remember the last time my fingers traced over a piano knowing that the keys under them were still in my command. I remember all those performances at random society ladies homes for the Musical Society of Victoria where I had just phoned it in. Like that one time, when my mind was elsewhere when I was playing that Beethoven sonata, and I skipped the development altogether and jumped from exposition straight to the recapitulation. That entire musical chapter of my life, I just completely glossed over. The fact that I had a fucking grand piano in my house since the age of 12 apparently never phased me. Or the fact that my piano teacher's whole family became family friends who, if you can believe it, we had traveled Europe with. Or even the fact that despite my obvious deficiencies, the Music Society ladies kept calling me month after month requesting performances during their recitals, an honour which a more diligent student would have killed for, but I merely winced in annoyance at. The amazing concerts I went to and yawned at. I knew people with far more talent than I, who started playing at a far younger age, and I knew I was never going to be a pianist, for that reason alone it became just child's play. Did I at any stage realise how amazing it was that I had that amount of serious musical education?

I've been thinking about this for a while now. Every time I hear classical music, I realise again and again how charmed my upbringing was in relations to music. It takes a lot of virtuosity to impress my privileged mind. It was not until Elianto, that phenomenal little string quintet I heard in the goddamn subway station that stayed my foot for almost half an hour that I noticed the pain of something missing in my life. I have not touched a piano in a serious way now for about 8 years. Two more and that's about how long I played it altogether. In terms of childhood memories, the piano was a source of pain, even in the later years when I tried to alter my relationship with this instrument I had to strap myself to 2 hours a day, sometimes a lot more, it was too late. Like a bad romance novel, the negative habits had already set their form.

I'd give anything to have a chance to play again, but there really isn't a solution to this problem. Yes there are pianos at studio, but to practice something that's 8 years stale in such a public space horrifies me. Besides, I need to play about 48 hours worth of scales before my fingers would work the way I'd want them to again, and that is just not something that anybody wants to hear. Keyboards are....keyboards. I like a synthesizer as much as the next person but in terms of piano pieces, they take all the musicality out and replace it with a throbbing dance beat.

O woe is me.


A particular favourite of mine to play back in day. And, if I may be as bold to say, I would have kicked the shit out of this guy. (only this piece though, because I loved it so much.)

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Ambitions

Blogging during daylight hours? WHAAAT?

Do not fret, my kitties, I am just as sleep deprived as always when I come around to this blinking cursor, and my prose, I trust, would take on much of that same level of lucidity.

Taking the proverbial stroll down a narcissistic memory lane, I started reading my old blog posts and old emails these past two nights. As cringe inducing as moments were during this sojourn, I did find my old self to be a more interesting specimen that this person sitting here today. Thoughts were better phrased, ideas more succinct -- readers, I used to think.

(The above literary device taken from the first line of the final chapter of Jane Eyre was something else my more interesting former self used to utilise all the time. I have, I am ashamed to say, not accumulated any more such devices, because apparently I have reached my cultural peak during high school. Which was 7 years ago. She says as she cuts up another piece of Chocolate Peanut Butter Fudge and swallows it whole)

All this is by ways of saying, you may begin to notice slight changes at this address from now on. I wouldn't think of altering anything that has already been because, for some stupid reason, that form of self censorship feels like cheating. I may occasionally correct an obvious typo or 2 if I happen across them. Some of you may have already noticed that I have removed all traces of this blog from my facebook presence, barring the link in my website section of the profile. I will be more militant about updates. I will attempt new things. There will be a new category of posts I'm proposing to start working on. In the interest of full disclosure, it will be an instruction manual of sorts. It's an idea I've been toying with, oh what the heck, it's already out -- Madam Qin's Guide for the Girl About Town.

It would be just random bits of information that covers living in a city as I'm slowly working it out for myself, chapter by chapter. You know, there'd be a post on cooking and how to stock the perfect start-up kitchen and a few simple tasty recipes. Make up and fashion tips I can wax lyric on myself. How to clean things properly, what to use, it still amazes me that young people don't know about the windex + newspaper combo for mirrors. How to set up a home stereo system. How to change the oil in your car. How to shop for a second hand car. Basic home repairs. Simple life things that a lot of girls don't seem able to do on their own. Maybe include an etiquette section because we all know that's going out the window. I can spend a few paragraphs on the wonders of OxiClean, talk about breakups and have a humorous list of healthy and unhealthy ways of handling things. Sickness and how to feel better in every situation. Basic over the counter drugs guide. Healing powers of Matzo Ball soup (see rules #5 and #37 of my rule book). How to load a freakin' roll of toilet paper without needing Kleenex to conduct a nation wide survey. It's ALWAYS over, people, no exceptions.

Travel tips, I've already started on that. I have my air travel process down pat. Down to every single carry on item and where I store them and when I take them out at what point of the flight. The order I take off my coat, shoes, take out my laptop to optimise a speed through of the security checks. I'm an air travel ninja. Have you seen Up In The Air? I'm George fucking Clooney in that movie.

A big part would be how to fill out forms and what to look for in contracts for work or properties. I'll get my lawyer friends to help me with those. I'd get expert advice in each category except for the ones I don't need them on, namely, makeup. It's going to take a long time, and eventually published, I hope. It would be thick and weighty with lots of pictures. It'd be encyclopedic in information and parents would give it to their daughters on their 18th birthdays as a reference guide to the rest of their lives. In the print edition I would provide up to date lists for must read, watch, listen items, but less for actual quality, although quality would have to be guaranteed, but more for the cultural expansion of knowledge so that said daughter would get the references made in the world they're stepping into.

Ambitious, no? But that's the 5 year plan. For now, I'll start small, very small. In fact the moment I hit publish I am going to regret putting this out into the world at all and probably do nothing about it.

I also have a Momofuku's Crack Pie date to go to, so toodles for now!
(It would appear that I may need to write a chapter on stunt eating, and use myself as an example of what not to do.)

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Slop Bucket

As promised, summery days and nights arrived ahead of its cue, and like an embarrassed child, retracted apologetically. We did manage to slip in a few fun filled days in the park during its brief appearance, as most of you on facebook (read: everyone) already know. That was one way to while away the listless daylight hours now. I suppose I could (should) start the job hunt on the illegal overseas student employment market. If there are any readers out there who are owners of manhattan based establishments willing to take on a neurotic (in an entirely professional way) Asian (= hard working) girl who is constantly on the quest for approval (= fantastic customer service), please, save me the trouble and drop a line.

Apart from that, I think I'll just continue on my mission of watching every episode of shows on netflix I'd always wanted to watch but never had the time to.

That would only be until mother arrives, of course.

I need to make it clear though, here, for everyone to see. I, Alice Bing Qing Tao Qin, hereby swear that my work ethic is going to shape right up, as of, errr.....now. Remember my fuck it manifesto? Well it's now going to include this amendment.

On top of not being afraid of creating and treating it like first time sex (just get it done so you can get on to the much better second and third time sex, according to merlin mann) I will actually go further, do more than the bare requirement. Ask more of myself than what is asked by the other people around me. Not just getting the job done but banging it out of the park. I'm mixing metaphors here but you get the idea. Because let's face it, being "good enough" is too easy, and unsatisfying (shit, the sex puns just want to write themselves). There, it's in print now, and you can all hold me to it.

CALL ME OUT ON MY BULLSHIT, people. If I'm clearly not trying hard enough, slap me, hard.

The fat trimming would begin, coincidentally, with fat trimming. Before you guys start on me, yeah, I know I'm not fat. I'm clearly not thin either, and the truth is I probably never will be simply because of my body shape. But for someone who has always sat on the "underweight" side of the BMI scale, to be smack bang in the middle now makes me sad. Regular regimen, cutting out most of the junk (save for my How I Met Your Mother dates, because girl talk and sitcoms are not the same without chocolate), and throwing out my takeout menus. Earning points on Delivery.com is just not worth it. That's enough airing of laundry for the night.

**

I have had a fine start to my summer break, people. Enjoyed the company of great people, learned a lesson in managing expectations... there is one thing nagging the back of my head though.

I lost a friend recently. No, no one died, but through an offhand comment, I had manged to offend someone irrevocably. Obviously, a button got pushed that I shouldn't have played around with in the first place. I have went over my words repeatedly and have decided point blank, that I would not apologise for them, because the entire friendship was based on two people who can be brutally honest with each other, and an apology would simply be a lie. Knowing him to be who he is, I am sure he would not see my side of things either. Stale mate, a friend is lost. I haven't thought about this for days now, namely because I've had a blissful few days, and I'm a brilliant compartmentaliser. But today, waking up in an empty bed, feeling a little disoriented and then realising that the person I normally try to make sense of it all to, to jot down these related elements in my life in a cohesive way, I can no longer relate to. For that, on a day that I was already kinda bummed, the arrow ticked over into the blue zone.

Let's focus on the bliss for a moment here. I won't go too much into it, but good food, good friends, and other kinds of good times. The lesson here is to just go with it, that if it feels right, then don't let inconsequential things hinder you any. And High Fidelity is still an awesome film no matter how many times I've seen it.

The Girlfriend Experience is on showtime right now. You know, for someone who performs like a champ in front of a camera for adult activities, Sasha Grey is really an incredibly dull person. Speaking of which, could we pause for a moment to revel in the recently resurrected hotness of scarjo? She has reclaimed her heights at the Match Point levels of hot, meaning, had I not been in the company of people, I may have had a much bigger reaction to that last black widow fight sequence.

Alright, this post is now officially living up to its title, time to call it a night. It is now a Friday though, so you know what that means...

Five scenes from my life in 2010 so far.

* The night before leaving Melbourne, Dean, Maya and Yoyo in my drive way, making things impossible.

* After Jimmy's critiques of the Poetry Projects, the running outside followed by the 45 minutes of uncontrollable sobbing that occurred.

* Studio 2F, Voice and Speech class, the most awkward thing to have happened this year, you know what I'm talking about.

* Corner of 32nd and 5th Ave, outside Chicken Revolution, two girls screaming at each other about life changing things.

* Walking out of Hotel Chelsea with a certain red head


More Narcissism Than You Asked For

1. What time did you get up this morning?
Chris texted me before noon, I woke up, typed a reply, fell back asleep before hitting send... I'm going to go with noon.

2. Diamonds or pearls?
Diamonds, duh.

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
Iron Man 2. It was good times

4. What's your favorite TV show?
Studio 60, Mad Men, and then a lot of trash I'd rather not admit to but you all know anyway

5. What did you have for breakfast this morning?
Nothing, refer to question 1.

6. What's your favorite cuisine?
The carb/starch portion of most cuisines. Breads, Rice, Potatos, Pasta, Noodles. I could KILL a garlic naan right now.

7. What foods do you dislike?
Coriander

8. What is your favorite chip flavor?
Red Deli chips Lime and Black Pepper (someone please send me some)

9. What's your favorite CD at the moment?
Today was a Portishead - Dummy kind of day.

10. What kind of car do you drive?
used to. Pug, I miss it, it's a sad story.

11. Favorite sandwich?
the closed smxl at Melbourne Central 5/6 years ago. Moroccan Lamb, served by Tony. (If you know who I'm talking about, please contact me)

12. What characteristics do you despise?
Arrogance, Ignorance,

13. What is your favorite type of clothing?
Comforting

14. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation.Where?
Barcelona

15. What color is your bathroom?
Painfully white.

16. Favorite brand of clothing?
My own that I'm totally going to create that only makes one size in each style

17. Where would you retire to?
Melbourne. Really truly.

18. Favorite time of the day?
Dusk

19. What was your most memorable birthday?
My 21st. It was super low key, with very select people, and I actually remember it being happy.

20. Where were you born?
China

21. Favorite sport to watch?
Errrr.... Anything during the Olympics. Tennis during Aussie Open, Soccer during World Cup, but if there's some sitcom marathon on at the same time I'd totally pick the sitcom

22. Who do you least expect to send this back to you?
no one

23. Person you expect to send it back first?
I will be sending this to no one

24. What fabric detergent do you use?
Bounce dryer sheets

25. Were you named after anyone?
I was named after a Chinese proverb. Alice I just picked out of a dictionary.

26. Do you wish on stars?
no, I prefer to ask questions to the solitaire gods

27. When did you last cry?
When Bernard's voice quivered during my evals, I lost it.

28. Do you like your handwriting?
When I'm trying, it's ok, but not really.

29. If you were another person, would YOU be friends with you?
I like to think so.

30. Are you a daredevil?
haaaaaa. In that I do stupid shit, yes.

31. Do looks matter?
Yes. Absolutely. But how a person look to you changes as you learn more about them.

32. How do you release anger?
In imagined outbursts while I'm lying in my bed. Or in very passive aggressive ways.

34. What were your favorite toys as a child?
Books. I was a boring kid. Actually I just liked playing with other kids. Jump rope, stunt jump rope, hide and seek, stunt hide and seek, trying to kick shuttlecock.

35. What class in High School was totally useless?
Chinese, because we had a bullshit teacher who even my mother agrees I could have taught.

37 Favorite movies?
Check my facebook profile

38. What are your nicknames?
I did a Friday Five on this once...

39. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?
Not often

40. Do you think that you are strong?
Resilient.

41. What's your favorite ice cream flavor?
Pistachio - because I'm an old lady.

42. What are your favorite colors?
Right now it appears to be green. Bright colours that make me happy

43. What is your least favorite thing about yourself?
I don't like it when I talk. I communicate better in noises.

44. Who do you miss the most?
ergh, where do I begin. My grandfather, Dean, Maya, Yoyo, Daphne, Cary, Ryan, my boys Miles and Charlie.

45. Do you want everyone you sent this to, to send it back to you?
......no

46 What color pants are you wearing?
I'm wearing a dress right now

47. Last thing you ate?
Fudge

48. Favorite song?
This is joke response because the question has to be a joke. Mao! Mao! by Claude Channes
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aQI50yhLXGM

49. If you were a CRAYON what color would you be?
Yellow. Right? RIGHT???

50. Last person you talked to on the phone?
Hannah, arranging our Crack Pie date tomorrow

51. What is the first thing you notice about the opposite sex?
Eyes, then if I'm interested, shoulders then lips.

52. Favorite drink?
Tea

53. Do you wear contacts?
Yes

54. Favorite day of the year?
First day of Spring, New Years Day.

55. Endings happy or sad?
Happy

56. Winter/summer?
errrrrrr.... Winter, because I look cuter.

57. Hugs OR Kisses?
Hugs

58. What is Your Favorite Dessert?
Something light. Fruit over dessert most of the time

59. What Book(s) are you reading?
ergh. I'm a pathetic book reader right now

60. What is on your mouse pad?
you mean what's on my trackpad? well worn finger marks

61. What Did You Watch Last night on TV?
Arrested Development

62. Favorite Smells?
Clean laundry coming out of the dryer, Pillows a cute boy slept on after he's left, Clean hair, Armani Sensi

63. Stones or Beatles?
Beatles. I do love me a bit of Stones too though

64. What's the furthest you've been from home?
Right here.

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