I've Got A Fever, And The Only Prescription Is More Good Movies

Last week, after leaving early from work, I decided to spend my afternoon at the movies. Not a lot interested me, but I had heard strong positive buzz about District 9 , which I was anxious to see. The trailer hadn't won me over, but the marketing for it had allured me quite a bit. I hadn't slept much the previous night (because of a 7:30am shift at the museum), but, thinking the movie was going to be a tense sci-fi story, I thought I would snap out of my drowsiness in no time and be gripped to my seat. As it turns out, I dozed off about ten times throughout the movie, and by the end I was struggling to keep my eyes open and enjoy the narrative.

I left the theater feeling confused and very disappointed. Why had the movie been such a let-down for me? Perhaps it was because I had been drowsy the entire day and wasn't in a particularly energetic mindset - or maybe, given the lack of sleep, I was just plain ol' cranky. Regardless of my bad mood, I felt District 9 was trying way too hard to be topical (what with the whole "apartheid" symbolism and everything), and the protagonist came off as irritating in his actions and behavior, with his character arc being very predictable. Overall, the film's message was laid on a bit too thick for my taste, and it didn't pan out to be the nuanced, thought-provoking film I thought it was.

I got home, plopped on the couch and relaxed for a while - but my moodiness persisted. Why had this movie put me in such a rut? I couldn't figure it out...

A week later - this past Monday - I had an almost identical experience. I barely slept on Sunday night (painful cramp + neighbors hammering on the wall next to my bedroom = bad morning), and so, after doing some work during the first half of the day, I decided to keep myself busy and go see Inglorious Basterds. Surprisingly on this ocassion, I was fully engaged throughout the entire film and enjoyed it very much (despite Tarantino's constant self-indulgence in his long-winded dialogues). So - two similar situations in which "lack of sleep" was at play, and yet, each had different outcomes. With District 9, I went back home angry and disappointed at my choice of movie...yet after Basterds, I felt an inner "high" that cheered me up for various hours.

Big deal, right? So WHAT if I liked one movie over the other? Some movies are good and others are bad...Yet, why does this happen? Why did District 9 provoke such hostility in me - as if I had just been spurned by a girl - and Basterds made me want to whistle as I rode the subway train? Watching movies can be, in and of itself, a full-on sensory experience that can brighten - or bring down - any given time of day. Much in the same way that eating a Spicy Tuna Roll cheers me up, so does watching Jack Nicholson chase down Shelley Duvall through a creepy snowbound hotel. Along these same lines - having to eat olives, to me, is akin to being forced to see an awful Pulp Fiction "rip-off" with two horrible actors as protagonists. Yuck.

We all have our idiosyncratic passions in life. Sports fans camp out in tents outside of stadiums for days (and even weeks) just to get great seats to season games. This fervor is validated when their "interest" manifests itself before them in an emotional and spiritually-enriching way. If the fan's respective team plays spectacularly well, it reinforces the attitudes and reasons for why they follow this particular interest the way they do. However, if they play badly, the very opposite occurs: fans get belligerent and are quickly disheartened by everything they thought they stood for and believed in. Their zeal drifts off (albeit temporarily) and the cycle begins again as they try to regain that inner passion that they once felt.

Same thing happens with me with movies. One mediocre film can quickly ruin my day and vanish any sense of hope and optimism that I had for new, groundbreaking narratives. The feeling of emptiness that I get inside of me can only be gotten rid of by watching a good film that WILL once again reinforce that innate zest in me - the reason why I still keep caring...why I still "pony up" $12.50 every week to see a movie that I could very well download online for free - or could possibly be an atrocious piece of crap.

It's love, is what it is. We may get hurt 9 out of the 10 times we visit the movie theater - and feel heavily disappointed, rejected, cheated (sometimes even "used") - but it's all worth it, just to experience that one instance that comes along every once in a while that makes you a firm believer in your passion all over again.

Ctrl+Fbk+Del

Like many people, I have a volatile relationship with Facebook. Well, I'll be honest with you: I downright hate it. However, one cannot ignore the fact that it's a very helpful networking tool, and so, no matter how much I dislike it, I always end up caving in and accepting its validity. It is indeed an effective way of reaching out to potential friends (and employers), not to mention it's got unlimited photo-upload capabilities, which I enjoy.

When I'm not editing photos and posting them, though, I don't do much else on the site (save for the occasional "stalk"). I feel like there's not much to like about it, yet I've come to shamefully rely on its availability, so much so that every once in a while I have to suspend my account. Mainly it's because I hate myself for spending so much time on the site, simply doing nothing (i.e., stalking). Another reason is because I can't stand some people's meaningless statuses, and they force me to disconnect myself entirely from that world.

See, with a site like Facebook so available and useful to us, we tend to drop our guard and feel as though we need to share everything and anything with people, no matter how dull it is. We judge each other with a personal and watchful eye on how we express ourselves and react within the site. We communicate so ably and freely with people that every single gesture, statement and thought or idea that is stated on the site is heavily scrutinized and dissected:

"She removed her 'In a Relationship' status and is now 'Single'?! That bitch!"

"He removed his 'Single' status and is now 'In a Relationship'?! What a dick!"

"What does she mean by ' Cute pic ; ) ' ? I think she digs me, bro."

On Facebook, you usually have two types of people: (1) Your friends, and (2) everybody else. This latter category usually consists of individuals you've come across whom you've never had a substantive conversation with:

• People that lived on your floor freshman year of college
• People that talked to you at a party or bar and apparently did remember your name well
• Co-workers that try a little bit too hard to be your best friend
• Estranged family members (2nd cousins, Grandma's new boyfriend, and the like...)
• Your neighbor's sister's best friend's nephew

(The list goes on...)

Having people like this on my list made me feel awkward and insincere, so, about a year ago, I decided to be honest with myself and do something that I find completely acceptable, yet some deem improper: I began to delete them from my account. Yup. A healthy "FB House Cleaning." But don't misconstrue this - I didn't delete people that didn't have it coming to them. I've only removed a handful since last year, but the reason I've done so is because I don't qualify them as my "friends." They're more like far-away acquaintances; if there was a "My Acquaintances" list on the site, they'd surely be on it. Also, it's not because I don't want to hear from them ever again - it's because I feel cheap and disingenuous having them on my list when in fact I don't know who the heck they are. Some people enjoy having 2,000 "friends" on their network, but not me. What good is it to have a bunch of strangers on your list if you can't stand half of them - or can barely remember their full name?

The acquaintances I have "let go" from my list, I've done so in a painless, easy fashion. However, I've had a couple of actual friends of mine (or close acquaintances) whom I've had to delete in the past year. I had my fair reasons for doing so, but, to be honest...I wouldn't recommend it to anyone. The downside to deleting a friend or close acquaintance is that...they'll actually notice that you deleted them. (Yikes.) For instance, this guy I met in college - "Brad" - used to date a girl friend of mine. He was a nice guy, but I always thought he didn't like me very much. He would sporadically lash out at me for no apparent reason and our interactions were consistently odd. So, after a couple of months, I felt Brad didn't think too highly of me, and so I removed him from my list.

Cut to a couple of months later, when I received a message from him:

"have you been deleting me as a friend on facebook? hehe, it's cool if you have."

I shied away from answering him at that moment, but after more months passed, he asked me again, and I came out and told him why: because he had lashed out at me on several occasions and I just felt he wasn't interested in us having a rapport of any kind. Surprisingly, this turned out to be incredibly therapeutic - he acknowledged his past mistakes, I told him I had no qualms with him, and now we have a solid friendship.

In another instance, I had a relapse last summer with a girl friend, "Hannah." I had invited her to a concert - one that she was really eager to go to - and she abruptly cancelled on me just hours before the show. Her excuse was somewhat flimsy and lame, and at that specific moment I was miffed by the "brush-off" - so, in a fit of annoyance, I deleted her from my list. Maybe I overreacted, but I did so out of my own, hurt emotions. Whereas Brad had lashed out at me, Hannah had made me feel unappreciated as a friend - she did not give me the consideration I deserved in telling me of her cancellation in advance.

Once again - months later - I received this message from Hannah on my Inbox:

"omg jose, did you just 'limited profile' me on facebook???"

My reply was clear and concise:

"i didn't 'limited profile' you. actually, i deleted you."

I don't necessarily feel good about having acted this way. I, too, would be mad if I ever were in the position I put Hannah and Brad in. It's understandable. But I did it for a reason. I didn't undertake these actions out of spite or out of an ingrained "superiority complex." They had done unfriendly things, and I needed to assert myself with them - send a symbolic message. My actions may be deemed unusual, but think about it: if this exact situation unraveled in real life - and not through an online networking site - one would undertake a similar behavior: ignore their phone calls, blatantly brush them off at parties, etc...

I find it surprising that people take it so personally. It's not like I literally erased them from existence. What it all comes down to is this feeling of interconnectedness we share when we're on Facebook - freely reacting to (and with) a multitude of people at any time during the day - and the isolation and disconnect we feel when that link is shattered. Like online dating, Facebook is a fantasy world of sorts where we can re-make ourselves - downplay our shortcomings and embellish our strong suits. If a person leaves Facebook or deletes someone from his/her list, the "outlet" of communicating is made more visible and apparent. We thus realize not only the appeal of the site - to bring people together from different backgrounds - but also take closer note of people's existence and attitudes. Yes, these moments I had with Brad and Hannah were awkward and unfortunate, but they were essential in putting everything out in the open and addressing issues within the friendships. As of today, I have patched things up with both people and they're back on my FB list.

The impersonality and scrutiny within the site will undoubtedly continue, but we can embrace it and use it for positive change - to learn about people and "build up" on relations. After all, isn't that what social networking is all about?

Saturday of Summer

This past Saturday I finally went to the High Line, the integrated landscape park that runs along Gansevoort Street all the way to 34th Street. It was erected in the 1930's to support the freight trains that ran through that area. The day was hot, humid and very sunny, but the park was quite a sight to see - I even spotted Ed Helms passing me by! People sell fresh lemonade on wooden stands, they mingle and sit along the boardwalk, and/or make their own picnics and enjoy the afternoon there.

Afterward, I went to see (500) Days of Summer (which I was skeptical about in the first place, but I decided to give it a shot). Although I definitely think the film is overrated, it's still nevertheless very amusing and entertaining, and for once in a long time, the "romantic comedy" genre has been given a much-needed "reboot." The movie unfortunately perpetuates the quirky "hipster" style that we've seen ad-nauseam since Garden State, and it does have an air of pretentiousness (the blending of sketches & live action, the "hip" soundtrack), but director Marc Webb keeps things fresh and breezy, and effectively distances his film from the other, idiotic "rom-com" fare. It very much falls in accordance with genre conventions, but it's still clever and engaging within its own formula. One major reason I went to see it is because of the film's stars. Joseph Gordon-Leavitt is a very talented young man (have you seen Brick? You really should), and I'm completely infatuated with Zooey Deschanel. I wouldn't say she's a great actress, but she's a terrific singer. She and musician M. Ward have a folk/country/pop band - She & Him - and I was lucky to catch them playing at Terminal 5 last summer (7/26/08). Here's a taste of this amazing gal's talent:

"Got Away" for Good?

After the Eagles of Death Metal concert, I kept thinking about the young man who proposed to his girlfriend in front of everyone, but more specifically, I reflected upon the comments he made regarding their relationship. He said he came to the realization of undertaking the proposal because he had spent far too much time away from her and it had been too unbearable for him to go through again. Obviously, I don't know the context of their "situation", but many possibilities arose in my head. (1) Perhaps they had been dating for a while now, and a long vacation time away from her rattled him so much that he realized what his priorities were; or (2) perhaps they had just recently met, but their time together had been so potent and enriching that he decided to throw caution to the wind and pop the question. However, a third possibility also kept bouncing in my head, and it's one that I've been thinking of constantly for several days: the "The One that Got Away" possibility.

We've heard and seen this expression used before - in sappy "romantic-comedies" and lovey-dovey TV shows. A good-looking guy removes a photo of a girl from his wallet, and his best friend leans over and says, half-mockingly, "Ahh...the One that Got Away." In most of these cases, the guy ends up tracking the girl down, confronting her directly and professing his love to her, and she reciprocates by affirming she's always felt the same way about him. They hug, they kiss, rain starts pouring, they giggle, the credits roll...but that's Hollywood for ya'. If you really think about it, what does this term really mean? What's the real, contextual significance behind "The One that Got Away"? Is it just something we keep overusing because it is familiar and part of the common lexicon, or does it have a specific message behind it? Do we simply use it to refer to a guy/girl with whom we were unable to "hook up" with? Or does it signify something deeper than that?

The reason I'm positing these questions now, after I witnessed the couple at the concert share a "moment," is because I've been struggling with this predicament for a while now, with a specific girl from my past - "Reese." For the past year-and-a-half or so, I've been thinking about Reese a lot. Not only because I haven't seen her at all - and I've barely talked to her - but more so because she is, to put it succinctly, the one girl who's truly shaken me to the core. I've gone out with a couple of other girls since her, but they simply haven't been comparable to Reese's warmth, humor, and unique personality. It's crazy to think that a handful of brief, fleeting moments can impact one's love life so dramatically, but that is how I've come to perceive and think back on my moments with this girl.

As it happens, at first I wasn't so keen on wooing her, even though I knew that she was interested in me. I would ask my friends for advice, and most of them would egg me on and tell me she was an amazing catch. I knew this to be true, but, given the fact that I was graduating college in a few months - and she still had one more year to go - I kept looking ahead into the future and felt reluctant to "act on it," both because I was unsure of my true feelings for her and also, more critical for me at that point in time, because I didn't want to deal with the consequences of what a long-distance relationship would inevitably bring. As I struggled and thought it through, I would still nevertheless spend nights hanging out with her. Reese made me laugh like no other girl could, and I always felt comfortable and at ease when she was nearby. She would come over to my place and we'd watch a movie she had never seen before, and in other instances I'd swing by her place and she'd introduce me to a filmmaker I wasn't so familiar with. I soon started to perceive an easygoing, affectionate vibe between the both of us - a strong bond between two quirky/funny people who share similar taste in films. However, whereas I would regard these "movie meets" as just that, I started to realize that she enjoyed them a great deal and loved spending time together. One time at her place, as soon as the movie ended, I said a quick "goodbye" and darted out unusually fast. There was no motive behind that - I think I was running late somewhere - but she saw it as a snub of some sort. Afterward, she confronted me while we were talking online. Why did you run off so quickly?, she asked me. I had no real answer to give her, but from her reaction, I realized that I needed to behave better and enjoy the time I spent with her.

Spring Break arrived, and I was terrified of having something so potentially great happen to me. However, one drunken night - as we texted each other while being miles and miles apart - we acknowledged the interest we had for one another. I was having a great vacation - immersed in sandy beaches, beautiful vistas and attractive girls in bikinis - and, yet, all I could think about was Reese. Even though we affirmed our mutual appreciation, I was still skeptical of what might come about - again, not because I didn't like her (I did, very much), but because, if I did agree to start seeing her, I wanted it to be as perfect as humanly possible. Once we were reunited back on campus, we kept up with our "movie meets" yet still maintained things at a platonic level. Then, one night, Reese and I watched a film at her place. As the movie went on, we became more at ease lying close to one another. At one point, she turned to look at me. She smiled and laughed. I leaned in and kissed her, and she kissed me back. I felt as if firecrackers had gone off inside of me. Never before had I experienced a kiss like this one. This feels good. This feels right!, I kept shouting over and over in my head at that moment. Everything made sense. It was an unabashedly romantic moment, but one made more uniquely poignant for the simplistic essence of it. It wasn't a bombastic display of love - the kind you see in musicals or romantic melodramas - but instead, a subdued and quaint moment: just me and her watching a film on her laptop, embracing each other and enjoying the silence, with the computer glare being the only thing illuminating us in the darkened room. I left her place grinning like an idiot and going through a flurry of powerful emotions. For the next couple of days, I thanked my friends profusely for having courted me through this. I felt like a better man because of them, and I felt like a better person because of my "moment" with Reese.

With most wonderful dreams, there's usually a downside or "reality check." Mine came when I started to dwell too much in the unrealistic notion that we'd be together in a seamless way, without any difficulties, and it started to dawn on me that this great bond that I had just discovered would be disrupted in a matter of months. I started to question my potential within the "connection" I had made with Reese, and before I knew it, I had convinced myself that I needed to be single (or alone) in order to evade the pain that was inevitably going to land on me. Reese herself was mulling over similar things, and during one online conversation, she told me that she thought it'd be best if we remained just friends. Instead of arguing against it and saying what I truly felt, that I had never met anyone like her and would not take "no" for an answer, I did a really stupid thing: I agreed with her.

I should've fought for her. I realize that now. Was she expecting me to take charge and denounce what she had just told me? Tough to tell. But, that's what pains me most of all when I think about it nowadays - that I took the news lying down and didn't tell her how much she meant to me.

I immediately perceived the shift in our interaction after we parted ways. She kept emphasizing that she didn't want things to change, but she started calling me less often to meet up and hang out. She stopped wanting to watch films together, and instead would only call me up when she needed someone to have lunch with. As my last semester came to an end, my friendship with Reese became almost nonexistent; tattered and consistently awkward. A whole new batch of emotions flooded me: why had it come to this? When had it 'gone off the rails'? I was furious. Furious because I let our bond dissipate very easily, but also furious (and heart-broken) that she had also not fought harder to maintain what we had built up. At one point, I decided to let go altogether, and in doing so I brushed away all of our moments. What I had hoped to evade since the beginning (the second-guessing and eventual heartbreak post-college) still nevertheless ended up finding me and hitting me hard. I constantly kept analyzing it in my head, like a bad team strategy after a failed game, but no new answers popped up, and so, in effect, I ended up putting the matter to sleep for good.

Until now.

As I was mulling over writing about this topic, I mentioned it to a friend of mine who lives in LA. When I told her the post would be about "the One that Got Away," she quickly replied, "Oh, yeah...I've got one of those." We've all been in this situation, in one way or another. To some, it merely signifies a "lost tryst" of some kind, whereas others fall in a latter category - the one I'm realizing I'm also a part of - a missed opportunity at love. Now, after all this self-reflection, I can honestly say that Reese is very much "the One that Got Away" for me. But - does it end here? Do I have to keep alluding to Reese in that way? More importantly - do I have a choice on the matter? Perhaps the Eagles of Death Metal kid was in my situation, and he had cut ties with the girl but couldn't deal with it and so sought her out...His story obviously has a happy ending, so, to that effect, could all of our "Ones that got away" situations be resolved? It seems like it's up to us - to be like the Death Metal kid and take the risk.

Apart from our own romantic preoccupations, one also has to consider the "grand scheme" of it all. Are my parents soul-mates, or did they end up marrying each other because their "Ones that got away" truly disappeared out of their lives? Food for thought.

I don't really know where Reese is nowadays. Probably back in her hometown, probably in love with someone. All I know is that, personally, I cannot take the risk again and confront her about this. All I can do (which is what I'm doing now, as we speak), is reflect on the one true girl who really made me feel alive. She may read this - she may not - but it's out there, and all of it is 100% genuine from the heart. I love her for liking me so much when I was too blind to realize it, and I'm grateful for having fond memories to look back on. Whatever happens, this is me coming to terms with it, and, at the very least, I can take solace in this often-used expression whenever my subconscious starts to reminisce about the past...

Love and Death Metal

First blog post!

Last Thursday, I went to see Eagles of Death Metal at Webster Hall. The venue was considerably packed, mostly with people my age or older. As the lights dimmed and the band took to the stage, Kool & the Gang's "Ladies' Night" played through the speakers - the Eagles were definitely setting up a particular mood. What followed after was 100 minutes of hardcore rock - with a side of "frisky." Lead singer Jesse "The Devil" Hughes charmed the hell out of the audience, consistently blowing kisses to the girls in front of him and proclaiming his love and affection to everyone present. With his gyrating hips and quirky dance moves, he was a total "character" and made the overall experience a richer one.

An hour or so into the show, when it came time to do an encore, Mr. Hughes came out onstage and brought along with him a young man. The kid was probably around my age, and was definitely not part of the band. Hughes let the young man speak for himself, so he did, and he in turn asked his girlfriend to come out on stage. When she did, and saw the chaotic crowd before her, she kind of realized what was about to happen. Everyone went wild as the young man told his girlfriend that he had recently been separated from her for far too long, and he did not want that to happen again. He then got down on one knee and proposed, and she very happily accepted - as Mr. Hughes stood to the side, grinning from ear to ear, with his young son next to him. I'm not sure whether Mr. Hughes is still married or not, but one could tell he was unabashedly excited about what he had just seen before him. Although I've read that his politics are more center-right, his enthusiasm for his line of work - and the way he gushed about the "newly-engaged" couple - makes him seem more like a 21st-century hippie more than anything else. It was a genuine and heartfelt ending to an otherwise raucous night, and it made me take notice of the "high" that one gets when groups of people come together to enjoy a given experience. We were there for the music, and, in turn, that young man felt the need to share his love for his gal with all of us in the crowd. That's pretty neat.