shochiku's Xanga

There's no 2 ways about the 2 "ways" of growing up

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 10:35:38 GMT

Since turning 30 back in 2006, I've always been in a retrospective mood. But most pressing about it is the issue of how fast I grew up, versus how others "grew up" fast, if you know what I mean.

Ask any of my closest friends, colleagues, etc... and they'll tell you that my early childhood is in no way the most normal; if anything, it's traumatic: I lost my mom at age 6, which thus forced my dad to quit his cooking job to try to raise me and my sister (the word "raise," is left wide open for debate) under the stigmatizing sustenance of government assistance... THEN my dad passed away when I was of what I will say as Bar Mitzvah-age (i.e, 13)... leaving still, some other trying times yet to overcome... like having not 1, but 2 fails in my report card (on top of a D and a couple of C's, the latter letter grade of which, I recalled my Dad possibly despising the most)... trying to deal with living under my stepmom's care (possibly "married" via common-in law, between the times of my blood parents' deaths), trying to deal with adolescence (like who doesn't?), juggling both academic and social development... then came my awkward at best, entry into young adulthood, having to forcibly move out of my home and into my increasingly senile grandma's studio apartment (my stepmom remarried with possibly a jerk, hence the reason why he forced me and my sister out of my stepmom's life), trying to keep up with my collegiate studies (oh what fun that can be... for almost 9 straight years--5 of which is devoted to getting my Associate's degree first before completing my Bachelor's in half that time!), while simultaneously juggling with living on my own (first with little to no support from my family, living with my grandma, then having to learn how to balance my checkbook when I finally started to officially live on my own--albeit with roommates, via disability, social security), and all the while trying to get over those nihilistic, 20-something cynicism I had with not only with God, or even my friends (whom by the way, 'seemed' to be maturing faster by ways of graduating college, getting into relationships, which thus turns into marriages/families, getting into careers/jobs, and other such fun stuff like traveling overseas, etc...), but likewise with the world AND myself. I mean, if you were to step inside my head back in the day, you can almost hear the the cage-rattling effects of my envious rage, feeling left out of what constitutes a normal, fulfilling life, as advertised/depicted not only on TV, etc... but possibly even society itself, as dictated by experts, pundits, etc...

BUT YET... in spite of it all, I somehow consented myself before God to finally show some maturity gravitas, like around the aforementioned year of my astronomical growth as a more level-headed, broad-minded adult, however long and brutal it is for not only myself, but also for the very cadre of church friends, etc... praying tirelessly, yet possibly warily of my stubbornness, which incidentally evolved into my character resolve! It's strange how much toil and (self?) punishment I had to go through to finally "get it," about what life's really about--and how I should better live it. It's funnier that even in spite of some of my immaturity issues then, there's always that lingering built-in mental device, waiting for me to finally grow up past those same traumas/issues that gave me those immaturity issues...

Now contrast that to the lives of more normal people; you know... the sort of folks who don't have the same sort of unscripted/unenviable drama that I had to face since age 6. Despite of the many enviable comforts of a more sheltered-suburban, maybe even fairly stable, blue-collar/urban, middle-class home, where especially here in America, where there is little to no excuse for dysfunctionalism, family drama and worse... it seems all of the gifts of such aforementioned things, were never maximized to its intended purpose. That may, if not very well explain the sociological phenomenon of "adultolescents," arrested development, perpetual adolescence, and the recently talked about, "helicopter parenting" (where parents are constantly under standby to assist their child/children out of some major crisis, hence leaving little to possibly no room for personal growth and experience with being a REAL adult). I can at least point out at immediate, celebrity examples of such stunted growth such as Britney Spears and Paris Hilton, but I think it's better to point out on a more consequential level the sociological/university studies found in such recent texts/nonfiction bestsellers as Michael Kimmel's Guyland, and possibly (via cross-referencing) Ariel Levy's Feminist Chauvinist Pigs. Both texts have much to say about the maturity gap going on with my generation and younger, who apparently in lieu of settling down with marriage and real work--especially guys, are opting for the perpetually adolescent behavior of going to the bars, hanging out with the guys, making cat calls at women (scantily clad or not; more on that later), and all the while superciliously dreaming of some prestigious, high-paying career, with very possible intentions of funneling the fruits of such a day job for perpetually adolescent, hedonistic hijinks, that should have been left back in the boy's locker rooms of (Jr) High and college, this side of Entourage. And with the advent of lad magazines, a la Maxim, a la Stuff, and even the gerentological likes of Esquire, as the "Bible" of (post) modern manhood, I can't help but find myself cynically amused by the current trends of what constitutes masculine adulthood, when you consider the following by author Michael Kimmel:

- the rates of suicides for immature young men are significantly if not staggeringly high, considering that these "men" can't function apart from their beer-swilling group, much less function an identity apart from that same group.

- much of the displays of manhood by today's generations of young adult males are more about adolescent group performances, trying to "prove" to one another that they're not gay (so much for social "progress"). In short, pseudo-manhood that's measured less by responsibility than fake bravado.

- the health risks of perpetually living in a perpetually adolescent lifestyle is dangerously high, considering the no-brainer effects of the constant alcoholic binges, mass consumption of junk food (sometimes of the bar variety), and even sex and drugs, considering the whole universal health care debate about lessening the collective taxpayer burden by encouraging/mandating more personal health responsibility; well that and Tort reform...

- and the oft-neglected statistics that says despite what MTV/VH1, American Pie, The Hangover, and even some vintage John Hughes fare purported, not everyone is having sex as frequently as advertised/portrayed in high school--EVEN LESS SO INTO COLLEGE! That kinda puts a very dangerous monkey wrench in the whole, taxpayer-funded, safe-sex education "industry..."

...and as for women in my generation and younger...

Well, in hearing up on Ariel Levy's aforementioned book, detailing the post-feminist standards of what constitutes a "real" woman, i.e, be (ironically) porno-fake (as opposed to the 70's, Helen Reddy's "I Am Woman" likes of Gloria Steinem), I've been examining/meditating a lot about the whole, cougar and MILF phenomenon--and the correlations to barely legal/jail bait culture. The leerier parts of me is questioning if many of the (literally?) "hot mamas" of today are symptomatic of a culture that constantly indoctrinates young girls--possibly barely into their pre-adolescent years, of not only be more sexual, BUT also be constantly dissatisfied with their own age; ANY age (hence that bittersweet punchline behind one female-centric greeting card, showing an elderly woman wishing she was 20-something, whereas the 20-something year old wishes she was still a teenager... AND yet, a young 8 year old girl wishing she could be a teenager...).

If women today have their version of perpetual adolescence, it will be of the porno-chic kind, where today's definitions of womanhood is measured by how big one's breast implants are--AND small your labia's been surgically-reduced! Graphic truths aside, this brings to mind about the same issue of adolescent performance of adulthood--except with thong panties. Here, young girls (the word of which is of disturbingly debatable context) are encouraged to "prove" their feminine adulthood by how slutty they are, possibly to link female sexuality/fertility with maturity--sans the responsibilities normally associated with sexuality/fertility (i.e, motherhood, careers, etc...). And since the advent of Camille Paglia-styled feminism, what's the Vegas odds that many of today's jailbait girls are going to further their own perceived notions of female "adulthood," pursuing the same barely-legal drama as say, (perpetually-adolescent) guys in their own way, all the while staving off REAL adulthood under borrowed time, best known as biological clocks? I mean, when one considers the awful reality of how short a shelf life feminine beauty and fertility is, one must reflect from the statistics of...

- how often the staggering rates of female suicides seemed to correlate with their patronage with breast implant surgeries (though not necessarily to say it's the silicon implants themselves that causes the suicides, but to inquire the psychological well-being of those implant recipients) ...

- a recent, correlative survey, questioning how much less happier women today are with their lives, sex lives included?

- and in some past blog I bookmarked, describing the long-term consequences for those foolish pretty women, using their sexuality to pretty much get by with favors, material goods, etc... UNTIL THEY HIT THE DREADED 4-0, A.K.A. MENOPAUSE! I guess that explains the cosmetic surgical market for women aged 40 and over!

*I'll be more than happy/willing to google-search and post the relevant links to these provocative points...

In hindsight, no matter how much I still feel the urge to whine about my current circumstances, I can't help but think that all along, I have been in possession of some advantage called, God's grace, and character skills, forever doing the work needed for me to make peace and persevere for possibly better times ahead, whatever that may be, even in spite of the current recession, further frustrating whatever Steinbeckian plans I may have, between (metaphorical) mice and men, but still resolved to find, knowing what further blue-collar, Homeric epic, 'misadventures' I have to endure until I get to this American Dream that I pray is more substance than style. I suppose in all my life of mental (and possibly physical) survival, therein lies the valuable character lessons on how to truly live, as opposed to live the lives of fictional others. And since in all things ironic, if my life dreams/sense of calling revolves around cinema, what are my Vegas odds that I'll be (well?) awarded for putting in the best, substantially character-proven, work ethic skills on some movie associated with the year's best performance?

What's your favorite horror or Halloween movie?

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 06:45:26 GMT

I don't know per se as the my favorite horror/Halloween movie--let alone all-time favorite horror/Halloween movie. I WILL however, say what are the most scariest scare-fests in my humble opinion.

The George A. Romero's Living Dead trilogy will have to do, starting with the Night of The Living Dead, having the most profound impact on my life. It was the summer after graduating grade school, and I had to decide upon satisfying my cinematic curiosity that is the first modern zombie film, made in 1968. Now while that year might not sound all that significant to anybody else here, BUT as someone who grew up in the first decade of the MPAA's rating systems, I am reminded of how the same 60's was also the same 60's of The Sound of Music, some Jerry Lewis comedies (before he became more respected/acceptable by French comedic standards), and other family-friendlier sitcom fare of Get Smart, Hogan's Heroes (way before we knew of Bob Crane's shadier shenanigans with John Carpenter), Gilligan's Island, and even early days Brady Bunch. In short, the last decade before pretty much all of international pop culture (let alone American pop culture) is compartmentalized by obscenity rules and age clarifications.

And with NOTLD, it feels very traumatic to watch the Doris Day-styled hairstyles, coupled with the fashion and ambiance of say, AMC's Mad Men series, parachuted into the sort of genre realm more comparable to the Saw franchise, than say, what's found in a Cary Grant flick--ON Turner Classic Movies!   ...and speaking of classic movies, there's something all too unsettling to see the same black and white film texture, of say, a Laurel & Hardy comedy, Frank Capra favorite, Busby Berkeley musical, silver screen classic, etc... utilized to horrific, Gothic effect with the first mainstream-successful introduction of rudimentary, gore FX (i.e, the first scene depicting the zombies munching on human innards etc...).

Yet, that's still some time before I first heard of other gory horror flicks that even predates Romero's Night of The Living Dead--by a decade if not more, like say some of the stuff by Herschel Gordon Lewis' Blood Feast, and some other flick like Night of The Flesh Eaters (the original title Romero intended to use for his debut feature before running a foul of something called, copyright infringement, if not marketing confusion). Maybe at least in hindsight, I was reminded by the subsequent likes of crime/historical fiction writer, James Ellroy, commenting in his literary work on the not-so-innocent side of the bobby-socks facade that was not only the Eisenhower 50's, but also with the innocence & idealism of the JFK 60's...   AND I'VE READ L.A. CONFIDENTIAL... cover to cover... for a collegiate book report!

In the following years, maybe decades since my viewing of Night of The Living Dead, I've also came across the other parts of what was Romero's Living Dead trilogy (before augmenting Land of The Dead and Diary of The Dead, turning it into a quintet), with Dawn of The Dead (it actually made me too scared to hang out at the local mall for a few years!), and the much-aligned, possibly first sign of shark-jumping/anti-military effort, Day of The Dead. Both Dawn and Day had its fair share of scaring the holy be-(taking-the-Lord's-name-in-vain) out of me, BUT... in year 2009, at age 33 (you can guess what year of what age I first saw NOTLD), it seems the only thing left to be traumatized out of Romero's current body of work is that he's just another one-trick pony, with what amounts to a gorehound version of being the proverbial misanthropic curmudgeon, losing all faith in humanity as well as God.   ...a one trick pony that should have been taken to back of the woodshed a long time ago had he not succumbed to allowing himself be pigeonholed as the "zombie guy," when he could have done so much more apart from the living dead franchise he pioneered, YET ironically resigned to as just another dead franchise marketeer, no different than the commercialism Romero satirized in the original Dawn of The Dead.

I could go into Romero's latter days expression on all things politics and religion come his Land of The Dead feature, but I think I just about covered everything about what's truly scary about the original Dead franchise, but also with the semantic irony that Romero's Living Dead franchise is a dead franchise(!), meaning a now tiresome series, no different from the now-laughable Jason Voorhees/Freddy Krueger/Michael Meyers/Hellraiser/Texas Chainsaw, sequels/prequels/remakes, etc... now pretty much a pop cultural joke worthy of a lame Wayans Bros. parody.

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To Live & Die In Jesus Christ('s L.A.)

Sun, 18 Oct 2009 05:43:28 GMT

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cD3mErQjNX0&feature=related

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Being a believer in the same city synonymous with two-faced, back-stabbing, plastic surgery-fakery is something of a long and turbulent journey for me. Since being a Christian in March 1991, I've been through as much transformative change as the fickle TV/Hollywood-inspired trends since my conversion. And what do I have to show for thus far? A certain conclusion...

In looking back at my life--especially since early childhood, I have to speculate if much of my tribulant history have largely to do with the 'fake culture' around not only me, but my family as well. I can easily go off in the usual tangent of my Chinatown-related upbringing, but for the sake of the greater picture previously not seen in the cropped, pan-and-scan reality that has impacted my life and the lives of others, I have to stick to the subject by inquiring, how much more challenging it is to follow Christ, in spite of the mass-manufactured, mass-media reality around us? ...or for that matter (to some of my more Jewish readers out there), following God in this (stereotypical) quasi-Sodom-&-Gomorrah, and oft-times, seemed less quasi, or even borderline...

Especially within commutable distance of that televangelist network, Trinity Broadcasting Network (located around Orange County), I've been reminded by not only the Left-leaning, mainstream media likes of The L.A. Times, on how less holy the TBN enterprise really is, but likewise with other, fellow Christians of similar, yet nuanced orthodox-Biblical beliefs. After reading a past, L.A. Times article of how ridiculously lavish, nouveau-riche-tasteless The Crouch televangelist family is, I have to ask myself, much better--or shall I say, worse we are, compartively-speaking with TBN.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BkJ8dT6iLeM

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That's where I have to inquire not only with "Das Lieben der Anderen" of my home church--young people especially, but likewise with many other congregations within the SoCal area... How grueling is it to not succumb to the image-based sins, as opposed to resign to it? Especially at my hopefully, ever-wiser age, questioning how much fulfilling substance there is in those image-based sins, methinks how many of us "children of God," within the City of Fallen Angels, have become just as fake as the very sins we may have indulged in? Worse yet, how many of us City of Angels Christians have fallen not only away from God, but likewise with the very people within our home churches? I mean, yeah sure; I know all too painfully well what it is like to be reprimanded, a.k.a, 'judged' by others for whatever character pitfalls any of us can easily have, but...

...without going off the "Scarlet Letter" tangent, I would like to humbly address the broader issue of how all of us L.A. Christians not only fell for that SoCal trap of the proverbial, things of the world, but likewise come out surviving the very things of the world, when somehow but surely, we finally see what these things truly are?

And coming from someone with a semi-literal, survivalist background, I often wondered how astronomically hard it is to overcome not only personal temptations of the flesh, but also the identity issues that probably spur those ridiculous temptations/sins in the first place? Especially in a city as prosperous as L.A., how many of us believers have been woefully distracted by those quixotic lusts, worthy of an existential piece by beatnik writer,William Burroughs?*

*Something to do with the metaphorical issues of not spending enough time to see what is it we've been eating at the end of our forks/chopsticks, so as to ponder what is it we've been not only shoveling into our mouths, but likewise with what sort of being we've become, so as to feed ourselves with those oft-ignored food scraps? And don't get me started with Burroughs' controversial thoughts on homosexuality, gender issues! Hint: it's not what you may be expecting...

But in my Angeleno life thus far, I've learned to make peace with myself--AND God, the notion that I'll always be in full survival mode (either in a spiritual or physical sense--or both), since somewhere down the road of L.A. life, I will be able to live like the very human being The Lord designed me to be--as opposed to being some animal with little or no capabilities for insight, foresight, hindsight, etc... which ironically, are the very short-changing traits, many of L.A.'s epitomized elite, seemed to manifest--maybe even proudly...

*but not so much sincerely, given enough time, you might see what make these glamorous people tick... none of which is all that fit for even tabloid print...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cNLVnhg00xw

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Maybe truth be told, my L.A. Christian life is more akin to the many blue collar-middle class folks, whom every morning have to wake up, stay standing as long as possible in their average work weeks, hoping obstinately against the odds stacking against them, so as to not only build the ever-lasting, gold-refined character that is their true, God-given selves, BUT also with bestowing these gold-refined character traits onto their future kin/generations, as Paul Giamatti's John Adams said in the namesake, HBO mini-series, where guys like Adams hope and work hard to not only provide a better future for his children's better career options, but likewise with somewhere down the bloodline, the many offspring to be, will be able to afford the very arts-&-humanities insight/foresight/hindsight God wants them to be as to have--unlike some of the gleefully oblivious, libertine French aristocrats, whom not only have wasted their nobility gifts of the Judeo-Christian beatitudes, but likewise with being oblivious to the bloody revolution that will overthrow them via La Bastille et/ou la guillotine...

'Cause somewhere down the (blood)line, I want to look forward to the day when me and many of the very people (fellow Christians including) I care about, will be left standing, in spite of it all--EVEN with the possibilities of miraculously surviving a point blank shotgun blast--TO the face(!), in a silicon-fake metropolis, constantly dropping out/dead from the costs of tempting the very fate they want us to falsely aspire to!

What were you doing when you first heard about the 9/11 terrorist attacks?

Sat, 12 Sep 2009 17:50:28 GMT

I was (semi-)asleep at home, with my clock radio going off at the usual time, and it felt strangely surreal when I heard about some aircraft crashing into some building, and almost immediately I was thinking about a similar incident back in the 1940's or so, concerning a B-25 bomber crashing into The Empire State Building. But by the time I'm fully awake, ready to take care of whatever business of the late morning, I tuned in on TV, and that's when I realized that what I was vaguely hearing on the radio is no surreal event; it's very much real, with news images of the Twin Towers up in smoke, and ultimately collapsing upon itself. From there, things got back to its semi-surreal feeling (sort of) when I try to readjust to the conscious world that is school (I was still in college, trying to obtain my bachelor's), and in my favorite watering hole/hangout, an homage to 1950's soda jerk/pharmacy, and given the latter surrounding's motif, I can't help but noticed everybody's solemn expressions there, almost feeling like all of this isn't supposed to be real; in fact, it should have been strictly something out of a movie--incidentally, like the Denzel Washington flick, "The Siege," though unlike in the movie from a few years prior (to 9-11), this is NO FAIRY TALE It's very much real, no matter how surreal it is then as now. In hindsight, I almost wanna surmise that what happened to America on September 11, 2001 is akin to when my mom died back in 1982: a very traumatic, life-changing event, forcing everybody to grow up fast--and I've already had 3 immediate family members having to meet their maker, almost microcosmically no different than what many Americans will/would soon be facing with the subsequent Wars on Terror.

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To Love & Die In L.A. (William Friedkin/James Ellroy style)

Mon, 31 Aug 2009 06:30:22 GMT

Sometime ago, I was reading a little snippet of an interview of Cloverfield actress, Odette Guzman, saying how she had to be on super-wary alert, when it comes to getting into any romantic relationships--given my hometown's reputation for being plastic/silicon-fake. Well, in concurring with this possibly rising thespian, I will have to offer some personal insights, epiphanies regarding finding love in Los Angeles.

About 2-3 years ago, when I was finally getting out of my angst phase, or at least with the main root causes of it (i.e, by having a much more, broad-minded, realistically balance view of things), I came to the conclusion that many of the A-list superstars one will find in my hometown are oft-times the mass-manufactured, mass-advertised version of what allegedly, a beautiful relationship's supposed to be, i.e, "Brangelina," "Beniffer," TomKat," etc... But yet, THIS is also the same hometown where tabloid fodder is such an integral part of my city's psyche, so it's not unusual to hear some sordid chatter/rumors of couples--especially the most glamorous ones, on the verge of breaking up, engaged in affairs--if not also supposedly engaged with their respective, consenting significant others, etc... Maybe it's largely in part to their day job criteria of playing someone other than yourself--24/7, even though for any serious professional in any serious profession, the saying always goes (at least according to character actor Michael Rooker, a.k.a, the guy who played the film's namesake, Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer) that work is work; people should just go back home (after a day's work) to their families or whatever private lives they lead outside of their work environment'--CAUSE YOU DON'T WANT TO BRING THAT **** HOME WITH YOU!*
*Like hey, Rooker's first acting gig was portraying a loose portrayal of Henry Lee Lucas, for crying out loud!

With this in mind, I have to say that for many of the A-listers, glamorous people (this side of the West Coast), many weren't able to heed Rooker's call for more professionalism outside of work, meaning just being yourself at your home address! And when this sagely advice isn't heeded on the dating scene, once can/could easily imagine the sort of E! True Hollywood Story dreck that can occur out of this (sometimes literal) crime scene we called love and marriage! How many times do I have to speculate the possibilities the beautiful people (of the People magazine variety) had to playact/fake themselves into some relationship that they otherwise aren't very well suited for, in regards to honest compatibility? Have some of these A-list marriages/non-marital relationships are done with an actor's instinct, to cover up whatever personal foibles, character flaws that every human being have to deal with? And if so, how many of these public spotlight relationships often involve the one or both sides of the party, trying to play act their love for each other--ALL the while having some affairs and possibly worse, and ironically yet, carry on that same play-acting into their other illicit affairs? Sometimes I wonder if the dating scene here is more akin to some Method acting gig (i.e, channeling the real lives of others to play your fantasy role), as opposed to an honest, down-to-earth relationship; in short, it's more work than love. I guess that's why I take considerable amusement/appreciation over a comedy bit by Robert Schimmel, when he said joked about why The American Heart Association's pamphlet (on how to resume a normal, functioning sexual life) seems to be out of its mind when it recommended to stop your workload, if lovemaking becomes too burdensome to your heart rhythms! I kid you not...

I mean, has anyone in those respective PR agencies/studios ever bothered to remind their bankable stars that when someone calls it a wrap/say "cut," that usually signifies the end of that play acting role? Or better yet, has those A-listers bothered to seriously consider what the word, "cut," really means on a more intimate/honest, real world, where there are no spotlights, no make-up crew, no wardrobe advisers, no entourages, no papparazzis? OK, maybe not so much the latter-most group, but it still doesn't ignore the fact that private lives--especially romantic ones, aren't always going to involve an aforementioned group of "paid friends" to basically wet-nurse you around, brown nosing you with typical yes men answers to an otherwise, gorgeously-insecure facade? Besides, ask any serious relationship expert, and they'll always say that relationships are about honesty, to sort of relax and be yourselves without so much of a performance, which I often wondered is the reason why so many romances/marriages broke up so often: too many of us are trying to put up an Oscar-worthy performance over something we just frankly don't have the gonads--OR OVARIES, to be honest with! ...and this is coming from someone who has long since dismissed the superficiality/pomposity of the Academy Awards!

Yet in concluding this blog, some of you may already be asking yourselves, if not me personally, why did I make the theme of Hollywood, such a large role in the subject of relationships in L.A.? Well, since too many of us have blindly followed, if not at least subconsciously (in a Pavlovian sense), followed just about every trend here via Tinseltown like the sheeple we are, how much of our lower-profile romances have ventured into that same, Method acting workload that otherwise should have been left back at the office--and not into our homes/mailing addresses? How much does our sense of keeping up with the Desperate Housewives-styled Joneses left us portraying relationship characters that have for the most part, existed more in our solipsist minds than in external (or even internal), physical realities? And as I have to seriously prepare myself/pursue a REAL relationship, warts, flatulence, quirks, et al, I have to ask all of us here, how many of us will ever have, or at least be willing to, invest in a romance that is more openly honest/supportive (of each other) than say, in one of those euphemistic (read: polyamorous), "open relationships(?)," given how still cynically-dishonest, open polyamorous relationships are!

And given that recent reality show scandal/gory true Hollywood (crime) story that is Ryan Jenkins and Jasmine Fiore, how many of us can fess up to a rewarding romance that won't involve as much silicon or (cancer-causing) plastic as those needlessly tragic statistics, very-oft displayed on our syndicated showings of TMZ.com? But hey, given how much breast implants, VISA cards are so prevalent here, who knows how many of us have already fallen prey to becoming just as plastic as the very cancerous materials, we often times (either) surgically implanted inside ourselves, OR used to "charge it," for that former surgical procedure? After a while, I can (symbolically) understand why there's a call to wean ourselves away from Tupperware usage!

We Love (He)L(l).A: We (Used To) Love It!

Thu, 20 Aug 2009 07:05:06 GMT

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KT7aFLAS4ZI

*... or at least we used to love L.A., given a recent news article describing the economic exodus from the City of Angels...      Thanks Mayor Antonio "Failure" Villaraigosa!
Like a proverbial, Asian-American James Ellroy, I'm starting to channel in my inner L.A. Quartet, analyzing retrospectively of my hometown--especially (L.A.) Chinatown. Like everything else reputed about L.A./SoCal "fake" culture (i.e, two-faced backstabbing, plastic surgery, hypocrisy, materialism, etc...), I'm starting to examine all of this under the scope of my Chinese-American upbringing--given my upbringing, I've surmised that in Chinese culture, saving face/hypocrisy is such a big institution in our fileal culture. Like our suburban "gwailo" counterparts around Hollywood, West L.A./West Hollywood, Santa Monica, etc... there's that traditional Chinese culture of where respect is above everything else--even family, since friends and family are just mere means/stepping stones to the greater (Charles) Dickensian ends of looking good, without being good. The most immediate, personal example I could think of is when I went through both my parents' funerals (not at the same time mind you...), I remembered with great moral disgust, the "big show," "show-must-go-on" spectacles of public wailing, I can't help but be reminded of the utter fake-ness, contrived over-acting found in what's supposed to be a more solemn, more genuine ceremony of one's passing... which instead, it became just as much of a burlesqued, sometimes even big-budget farce as the opposite end of traditional Chinese occasions: weddings. I mean, who are they trying to impress here? The Motion Picture Academy, and their Price Waterhouse accounting adjutants? But then again, I am even more reminded of a past, Newsweek article alleging that thanks in part to Kevin Spacey's hometown connections to the prestigious "Oscar" voting board (they both hold/held addresses in Chatsworth, CA.), is the reason why the Sam Mendes drama earned the kind of (dubious) accolades that it did! But I guess that's why with my ever-maturing, broadminded sense of Christian irony, I find this (over-rated) anti-suburbia drama just as fake as the very fake Americana culture it sought to debunk! In regards to my Chinatown/Chinese upbringing, it doesn't take much for me to make comparisons between the show business superficiality (of American Beauty's Oscar wins) with our Confucian-Buddhist-Taoist-ancestral worshipping showboating. Like Spacey's links to the same childhood hometown of The Academy, methinks how much dirty politicking/connecting many within my immediate, Chinatown-centric connections my family may have had--at least with my mom, for them to almost (forcibly-) contrive their funeral grief like Sally Fields, thanking the insular Hollywood crowd (at the Oscars) for "really, really, really" loving her! And yet, the greatest irony here is that in spite of my traditional, Chinese culture's views of dissing the arts & humanities--performing arts especially, I can't help but (cynically) think that many in Chinatown will qualify as good actors by (even modern) Hollywood standards--since it takes a lot of fakery--uh, excuse me; a lot of play-acting talent, to convince people around that you even care!

And like in the stereotypical Hollywood/Bevery Hills, Dr. 90210, cosmetic surgery office, we Chinese have something called saving face, where looking respectably good is akin to a Botox injection, where all traces of natural humanity is erased by some chemically-induced artificiality, eroding any remnants of honesty, vis-a-vis facial flaws that ironically gives us the true beauty not seen on the surface level. It kind of begs the question how much free-willed humanity is left within all of us Angeleno Chinese, after the big show is over, which by all personal accounts, reminds me of that saying I've been trying disseminate on the blogosphere, saying "Those who save face, must need plastic surgery!"

And speaking of big shows, I am reminded of how back in the day, I always wanted to have the sort of "normal," functioning/healthy family I could/can only dream of, this side of The Brady Bunch, Family Ties, even the seminal 80's "classic," Silver Spoons, mass-manufactured by the then-Tartikoff era NBC network (long before they went all George Soros/Keith Olberman/Chris Matthews on all of us)... yet, little do I know at that age, it's light years far from the truth--like how the actor playing the Brady patriarch was gay!*
*OK, OK, OK... I know Brady Bunch is probably more of a CBS-made product, but that's besides the point...

What I am trying to make akin here with is like the "Hollywood Confidential" truths behind those childhood family sitcoms, I too have to be aware of how many of the other, Chinese families within my blue-collar neighborhood, if not also suburban Chinatowns (i.e, Monterey Park, San Gabriel, Alhambra, Arcadia, San Marino, Rowland Heights, etc...) are equally prone to having their own "closeted Mr. Bradys, if not far worse! *see the sordid, post-child stardom fates of your average Different Strokes child stars--no different from some then-big "stars" on campus on our respective high school/collegiate campuses as academic model minorities--only to be reduced to nothing more "dumb scholars," having little or no real-world savvy outside of the theoretical realm of the lecture halls, science labs...   AND I haven't gotten into the frightening possibilities of having Asian-American versions of a Noam Chomsky or Howard Zinn, forever denouncing their parents' true root reasons why they fled their impoverished, sometimes even war-torn homelands in the first place! Especially with the sort of "Wealth Ethic" I've been hearing a lot about nowadays in this bailout phase of The Obama Administration, I'm wondering how many of our current generations of model minority students, are also inadvertedly acquiring from our lamer excuses of "teachers," "professors," indoctrinating the feel-good lies of entitlement--which probably explains why I had such a ridiculous angst phase of "not belonging" with my (church) peers. Even with our much lauded Confucian work ethic, methinks how much of our drive for studious-to-professional success also was perverted/merged by the post-modern drivel of the godless, "Me Generation" values. I guess that also explains why in our mass media age of live newscasts of school shootings, gang drive-bys, and yes, even the traditional office space "(going) postals" seems to underlie the unsettling question that could the Lu Gangs, Cho Seung-Huis were probably (literally) triggered by the false entitlement values of working hard, just so you can automatically be entitled to the goods best known as wealth, sex, and respect...    NEVER MIND THE FACT THAT EVEN THOSE WHO WERE ABLE TO ATTAIN ALL OF AFOREMENTIONED (WITHOUT SO MUCH FIRING A SINGLE LITERAL GUNSHOT) ARE FAR FROM BEING SATISFIED THEMSELVES...   KIND OF LIKE AN ASIAN AMERICAN BEAUTY!

Oh yeah: if I were to able to intervene counsel to Lu (Gang)/ Cho (Seung-Hui), that it's not worth it to go postal or Columbine on people--since there's always the sagely advise of, "Look closer..." Maybe then those campus tragedies would never have to happen--SINCE many of those they envy with Great-Expectations-sized delusions, don't really have it all together!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=11lHeI6fq_0
Yup, it's no different from so-called, "gwailo" country--except possibly (in comedian Paul Rodriguez's words) the exceptions of being a better equipped, better budgeted sharpshooters! And the biggest, ironic money shot here? These White school shooters are probably the same kids the likes of Cho, Lu, envied!
*see the untold story of how one of the Columbine killers are actually one of the school's more popular/well-liked, higher-echelon kids!

And for the great, psycho mother of them all(!), I will steer this rant/social observations towards the sex cultural aspect of The City of Angels', Asian-American community--silicon implants, collagen et al.! Sometime ago, I was made aware of the whole sham that is Tila Tequila's bisexuality! As indicated previously by one of my Myspace/crosswalk.com friends, it turns out the MTV cyber celebrity have been in some committed heterosexual relationship with Smashing Pumpkin's lead singer... something Corgan; yup, it probably signifies why I find it tragically ironic that this onetime Seattle grunge/alternative rock star is now trying to (romantically) yuk it up with this plastic China--uh, excuse me: Vietnamese Barbie doll! And if you're trying to regain pop cultural relevance with a shallow, heavily tattooed bimbo of the moment, what could this easily say about your long-term character?(!) I mean, given that her talent is probably as substantial as the late-Anna Nicole Smith (which doesn't say much, if any at all!), I'm wondering how soon until Tequila will end up in the same, tabloid media circus that ensued with Smith. As serving as the Asian Paris Hilton, I've been putting her in the same scope of L.A.'s other central industry of fakery: the porn industry. Like their more mainstream, Walk-of-Fame counterparts, porn has always made billions marketing the naive at best, dogmatic at worst, notion that in order for one girl to become a real woman, she will have to be fake!*

*See Ariel Levy's Feminist Chauvinist Pigs!

With the current, post-feminist age of women's history, not only am I wondering with great wariness with this generation's young women, but possibly more so with this generation's young Asian women--Chinatowns, Monterey Parks including! Serving once again as one of this country's, if not this world's main pop cultural nerve centers, how much of L.A.'s other Hollywood/Valley-based porn industry will further the mass-manufactured, media dogma of what constitute a "real" woman nowadays? Hint: you probably need to be as silicon-based as Megan Fox--AND I'm not just referring to her appearances... see stuck-up, entitlement attitudes as well!

But as I try to look forward to sort of, "Escape From L.A.," this side of Snake Plisken--BUT NOT SO MUCH THIS SIDE OF JOHN CARPENTER(!!!), I'm wondering how much further I'll have to go to overcome the convenient, existential excuses that have served as my defenses from subconscious, inconvenient truths (read: God wants me to succeed, but yet I have a sinful fear of success). Someday but surely, I will have to... but first I'll have to make peace with that "awful" truth private eye J.J. Gittes learned at the end, that you can't do anything about Chinatown...    which ironically, could be a good thing!*

*Something to do with that past, L.A. Times op-ed that with the recent recession throughout the Asian-Pacific Rim economies, maybe it's high time the old guards of Asian Americana--Chinatown(s) especially, will have to make way for REAL change they can believe in (i.e, God possibly?)...    as opposed to the same, silicon-fake kind, mass manufactured/distributed via Hollywood fundraisers by hypocritical, celebutard limousine leftists, who probably like their senators, congresspersons, especially presidents, as airbrushed fake and lacking in real-world substance as say, the same real Angeleanos, described in (the L.A. episode of) Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations, if not also from the same caliber sort, condescended from Obama's notorious "bitter-gate" (small town America) comments!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wr8lkoqIWx4

(How) To Live & (Not) Die In L.A.

Sun, 19 Jul 2009 03:51:28 GMT

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HtuMlfh8wnI

*Wang Chung-composed soundtrack optional...

Los Angeles...    It's a many-storied part of my life, to the point I can finally conclude how pivotal this West Coast metropolis had such a profound influence in my upbringing--much of which is negative--and even more miraculous, considering that in spite of it all, I am able to come out much saner and cool-headed than say, 5 years ago; anything further beyond that, even worse, BUT at least I survived the turmoil that was the old me.

But the beef of this meat-and-potatoes blog involves how my hometown's reputed culture of being fake, may had such a grueling impact on what sort of issues I had to overcome with all the mature cool-headedness, both God and I can muster. Call me naive, or just accuse me of living underneath the proverbial rock most of my ostrich-like life, but when I finally started to come into realization/acknowledgment behind the superficiality of Los Angeles, it also finally sets in for me, what newer tactics/strategies I'll have to come up with, in living as the content, at-peace, God-intended/blessed human being I'm supposed to be, not some post-modernist piece of amphibian horse manure that's in full instinctive, survival mode...    never mind the fact that the standards of what constitutes "survival" in this town is how much money & bling you can accumulate, just so you can get laid beyond the umpteenth time! Oh brother... *(I suppose that's my reason why I decided to put into irreverent, counter-cultural/ironic use, that dismissive attitude towards this regional mindset, with the same word uttered tirelessly in every "Valley-based"/Ridgemont High-caliber teen comedy: whatevah...

In all my years living here, I've conclusively compartmentalized the sources of dealing/surviving L.A. fake-ness, that constantly stack the odds, or shall I say (to paraphrase my therapists then as now), the bad hand decked out to me: the Chinese culture of my B.C.E childhood (or as I will say, Before Christian Era... nudge nudge, ), and what I refer to as Beverly Hills (Rodeo Drive)/Hollywood wealth ethics: i.e, wealth makes personal human worth... or to quote the late Malcolm Forbes, "He who dies with the most toys wins..."   And given how the insecurity issues of not having what were the literally "in" toys of the time (think old school Transformers, G.I. Joe, etc...), you can probably see how much of Forbes' philosophy had permeated in what I refer to as, "playground politics"; i.e, if you have the most desired toy (of the moment), you gain every other kid's attention respect. Yup; it's akin to a grade school version of the arms race that was the latter-days Cold War (which I will further elaborate later on).

OK, OK, OK... maybe it's always like that since the "Leave-It-To-Beaver" 50's, but there's something about my personal experiences of that (80's) decade that struck a very intimately-morbid chord about greater L.A. culture, trickled down to my lower-class level. Growing up for me has always been a challenge for me, during the Reagan 80's (better known to its most harshest critics as "The Decade of Greed") given additionally, I am part of the celebrated, racial demographic best known as "the model minority." But given still, the odds stacked against me (in spite of my ethnic affiliation), such as being part of a troubled, blue collar/immigrant family (a.k.a, Fresh-off-the-boat, or F.O.B.s), with a Dad with personal issues (see prior blogs involving the tumultuous history of my old man), a breast cancer-stricken mom--with issues too, and oh yeah; trying to be that American Dream (to sort of paraphrase that motto from The Rocky Horror Picture Show: "Don't dream it; Be it.")..... one can't help but feel the total resignation of the situations of the time, when my old man seems to have had followed the "Willy Loman" syndrome, trying to define his personal (L.A. Chinatown/Gold Mountain) worth with whatever he's trying to scrounge around, remotely like Gold Mountain, I can't help but think he was too influenced by that SoCal variant of Gold Mountain: the plastic surgical version, where breast implants and credit cards goes hand-in-hand. And being situated within the same L.A. County, home to not only Hollywood, but likewise with the (American) porn capital of the world (think San Fernando Valley/Van Nuys area), I can't stop thinking of how the smut stars (alongside the mainstream Tinseltown ones) have egged inside my Dad's mind that if you don't have the bling-bling trappings of City of Angels glamor, you are somehow an all-around failure--given that he was born just 5-6 decades earlier to the much-over-hyped, Baby boomer generation, synonymous with Playboy-philosophy sexual mores, and the subsequent, "sell-out" yuppie culture that will be the 70's and 80's... never mind the fact that a certain L.A. native/novelist by the name of Bret Easton Ellis, will beg to differ with that FOB ideal!

So yeah, not only do I have to deal with the issues/emotional baggage of my Dad's sense of "failure" in L.A. culture, but likewise with L.A. Chinatown culture! But since I also mentioned that faulty philosophy of L.A. suburban "glamour," I am also made more aware (these past few years) of how that wretched excess of material wealth is more of a facade than an accurate portrayal of reality; the reality that is the family/individual unit behind it all. I mean, had my Dad took on a more broad-minded, cool-headed view of his host nation/host city culture (alongside his dearly-held traditional culture), he would have seen how false and quixotic it is, to pursue that (particularly) L.A.-based Gold Mountain culture, which then leads me to...

...myself.

After my Dad's passing in 1989, at my Bar Mitzvah age(!) no less, I guess I finally knew how much less symbolic it is for me to finally transition from boyhood to early manhood... THE HARD WAY(!) ...the Chinese way, that is... and trust me: it was far from kosher--but no less realistic! I mean, can anyone here fathom what it is like to try to juggle personal issues, academic issues, social life issues (i.e, personal growth/maturity), all under that bad, atmospheric undercurrent that was, and still is, L.A. fake culture? When you're 13, you probably speculated at best that everyone of your peers were trying to have their (Muslim Paradise-caliber) orgy, given the over-rated, cutthroat traditions of losing one's virginity--so as to prove one's "manhood," or on the other (gender) end, one's womanhood... NEVER MIND THE FACT THAT ANYONE WHO HAS EVER DONE SERIOUS SOCIOLOGICAL STUDIES ON ADOLESCENCE, OR MORE ACCURATELY, PERPETUAL ADOLESCENCE, WILL TELL YOU THAT THERE'S A LOT OF "PERFORMANCE," read: PLAY-ACTING IN THAT PUBESCENT act of, PSEUDO-MATURITY... JUST ASK (THE DIRECTOR BEHIND 13teen,) Catherine Hardwicke! And having been schooled in a Sherman Oaks Jr. High, within a commutable distance away from Van Nuys, a.k.a, the porn capital of the country, I can't help even more so with the following point...

In almost religiously meditating the sociological studies of feminist Ariel Levy, I have learned that with the current post-feminist culture of female raunch culture (think Girls Gone Wild), young women today are probably/literally hell-bent on following (what I personally refer to as) the porn starlet ideal,... and anyone who has ever seriously analyzed the paradox of the porn starlet's job description (as Levy herself), you'll conclude that their job is to (in Levy's words) "fake lust." That will explain the disturbing trend for young "women" nowadays, investing countless amounts of money in (of all things,) stripper poles, silicon implants, "skank-chic" attire, and even the worst of all, labia reduction surgery (so as to resemble the ones found in so many XXX smut sites, etc...)--never mind the fact that veteran gynecologists (who talked with Levy) will say that it does more to hinder personal female sexual satisfaction. But then again, if faking lust... correction: faking orgasms is supposed to signify genuine woman-hood, then by simple L.A./Valley logic (now that's a sick laugh), one will have to be a fake in order to be a real woman! WTF kind of reasoning is that?! But no, in the bimbo-chic aspect of post-feminism... more aptly put, L.A. post-feminist, bimbo chic culture, this is what passes off as the standards of modern femininity... RIIIIIIGHT!*
*sarcasm intoned

In going back to my personal experiences/brutal maturity processes of The City of Angels, I am reminded of another least-discussed aspect of L.A. plastic-fake culture: multicultural tolerance, or shall I say (at still-too generous best), genuine lack thereof. Growing up in the early 90's of Bill Clinton, and the much debated, height of political correctness, pre-South Park, pre-Mind of Mencia, I am constantly reminded to no eye-rolling cynical end, of how two-faced the talk of understanding and acceptance there is with so-called, "sensitivity training." I recalled how in the onetime, "urban-formatted," radio station (read: Black and/or even Latino-marketed), 92.3 "The Beat," much of the sermonizing of (Malcolm X/Spike Lee-styled) color-blinded race relations, I am reminded of the hypocritical tendencies of that same radio station, finding convenient enough, comedic material poking fun of Asians (as if we're of the same "obvious," White race-fabric cut as Bill Buckley Jr., George W. Bush, The Pope, Pat Robertson, and possibly even some of the most readily-accepted forms of "counter-racist" heckling of White celebrities of the time, like say Paul Reubens, a.k.a, Pee Wee Herman, and/or the future state governor, Arnold Schwarzeneggar!)! In fact, much of my most immediate recollections of my pivotal teen years is that Asians are open season to racist condescension, excluded from the umbrella protection of political correctness... unless of course, you're an Asian woman: correction: a very hot Asian woman!

*Maybe it's because of the fact we don't usually rely on affirmative action, nihilist, but capitalistic "urban expression" (read: gangsta rap), quietly accepting our daily/hourly crucifixions of white-mainstream abuse culture, only then will the Ivy League schmucks of academia and/or Hollywood/mainstream media, maybe--just maybe, will they come to our "advocacy" defense! Just maybe... especially if you're a hot (read: superficial-stereotypical) Asian woman... quietly accepting their/her over-rated "prag" status in the (richly-entitled) sexual hierarchy... 'kinda like a culturally/racially-covert version of HBO's Oz!

And not to totally excused my Asian background's contribution to L.A. fake culture, I will once again (tirelessly) refer back to my early family experience. Anyone who has ever been born/raised in the seminal Chinatowns, Koreatowns, maybe even Little Saigons, Little Tokyos, etc... will tell you about the almost universally conformist pressure to save face. Everyone's supposed to keep up appearances with being filial, hard-working, respectable, etc... key word here: appearances. And like their white-suburban counterparts, the oft-urban Asian communities of my childhood will try to keep up with their version of The Joneses that only exists in their own minds, but not so much reality, vis-a-vis, with the latest cable TV subscription, new car, or what not... and I haven't gotten into that fabled hinterland called Monterey Park, a.k.a. The first suburban Chinatown! And so much like their white-suburban counterparts, some of the stories, urban legends I've heard coming out of the urban Chinatown & suburban Chinatowns (pretty much anything within the San Gabriel Valley, Rowland Heights, City of Walnut region), are more akin to Sam Mendes' American Beauty, chock-full of lurid hypocrisies and needlessly/preventable tragedies of one-night stands gone wrong, drug-fueled disenchantments, masking suppressed cries of quiet desperation, infidelities, and possibly even criminal activities (as indicated in the past, local news of prostitution in a local Monterey Park bordello, if not possibly even Triad-owned/invested legitimate businesses)... and did I mentioned how a past article in The Pasadena Weekly, once reported of college-educated, very well-kept, Asian gangbangers, smartly, but amorally masking their illegal enterprises with outward shells of respectability. It's so depressing to think that my people's rep of the "model minority" is increasingly more and more like the model prisoner minority, that have less to do with Justin Lin's Better Luck Tomorrow as opposed to James Ellroy's L.A. Confidential!*
*the novel, not so much the somewhat, more pruned, film adapatation...

In short, just another self-fulfilling racial stereotype, this side of gangsta rap, "chicken-eating" (*taken from a dismissive, existential quote I found in an Ice Cube interview).

So in finally ending my prologue, rant-fest, what do I have left to fulfill the "living," not "dying" partition of this L.A. blog? Well, in discussing this with my therapist recently, he noted that what I am currently going through is the "Now What(?)" phase of my personal growth, given that I have finally nailed down some, to even most of the root causes of my life issues, regarding how much one's environment (read: city address) had existentially influenced what I thought was my character: correction: old character, better known in church lingo as "the old self." In doing so, I have to currently say that I'm trying to carve out a personal life path (with God), apart from whatever the local culture imposed upon me as their gold standard. Even though my somewhat, locally-stereotypical aspirations of following my film making /novelist(?) dreams may seem a bit quixotic (especially in regards to what exactly is God's will for me, etc...), I will say conclusively speaking, the story of my life is probably no different from the typical, high-octane car chase, this side of a William Friedkin police procedural:

Since we're commemorating the 40th anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landings, I am reminded of a JFK quote, concerning why we should race to the moon: it's not so much because it's easy, but because it's hard. And as a restless soul, hungry for some flexible/practical purpose to my lofty life pursuits, I'm very much like the metaphorical Richard (Fat) Chance, chasing whatever this great and abundant, life promised by my Heavenly (Rick) Master's enviable Black Ferrari down the 710, 110, the 5, 101, or whatever freeway route, concentrating hard on the Italian-design goal 75mph ahead of me--regardless of whatever temporarily painful lessons of whatever crappy motorist skills I'll have to learn hard to avoid every next time (I'm Asian, get it? LOL), just to catch up... AND maybe then, I'll have at least the beginning of many other hard-earned/graciously thanked blessings of muttering the most dead obvious, ironically funny one-liners in car chase history...

Me__Why are you running away?
Life__Because you're chasing me!

To be continued...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5n40H9qcNTc&feature=PlayList&p=DBE4086B722E9E15&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=32

What A Difference (Of Opinion), 2 Decades Make...

Mon, 13 Jul 2009 03:53:00 GMT

Summer 1994:

It still doesn't feel like that long ago, when during my hot-headed days of development, had me criticizing about the way my people/culture (read: Chinese, especially coming from a Hong Kong Culture) views life. I was roughly on the gates of young adulthood/high school graduation, and back in the day, I used to view my people as entrenched in all things materialistic (i.e, worship Buddha, Quan Ying, ancestors for some money and bling), hypocritical (ever been to a Chinese funeral?), superstitious (me getting reprimanded for taking a shower during Chinese New Year's), shallow (read: saving face), cutthroat (ever been in a Chinatown sweat shop, loaded with gossip-mongering old bags?), immature (check out how my stepmom acts around not only cute babies, but even during her drama queen moments), traditional Chinese misogyny, and maybe worse... Heck, I even remembering voicing these grievances to a onetime church chum of mine, way back in the day over the phone, never mind the fact that the latter told me that it's not much better, if not much worse here stateside! I suppose living under my stepmom's roof, it felt worse back then because of the fact I was a teenager then, always getting melodramatic of whatever coming academic Armageddon (like who hasn't been through that rebellious/hormonal phase?). Buuuuuuut...

July 12, 2009

Fast forward to today, where the circumstances now is much, much, much different. In this current stage of reality, I graduated from college (after nearly 8-9 years of mindblowing psychological/spiritual/academic hardship!), shown tremendous maturity and growth (thanks to not only therapy at Fuller Seminary's psychological services program... and a wee bit of medication!), with more than a fistful of God's optimism, putting aside a ton of issues that back in the day, seemed too impossible to overcome...

But at the same time, much of the pop cultural landscape I inhabited in, morphed dramatically since my Jr. High years. Back in the day, some of my movie faves, or at least the pop musical atmosphere that was my teenage years (not that I'm necessarily a fan of such), were God of Gamblers, Nirvana, (John Woo's) The Killer, Stone Temple Pilots, Pearl Jam, Sir Mix-A-Lot (even as a one-hit wonder!), some Mariah Carey (before she sucked and/or went crazy on MTV years later), some Jackie Chan actioneers (i.e, Police Story III: Supercop), House of Pain, Color Me Bad, Boyz 2 Men, Boyz In The Hood--and some of its subsequent cash-ins like Juice and Menace 2 Society, some rap song called Rump Shaker, Tag Team's "Whoop, There It Is!," Bill Clinton (cue the Arsenio Hall glossy appearance, saxophone et al), and yeah... the "sentimental" faves of Sam Peckinpah; first with The Wild Bunch, and later on with Cross of Iron. By 1994-ish, or so I'm told in one VH1 Behind The Music special suggests (on that pivotal year), things were as Bob Dylan sayeth best, The Times Are A-Changing... and my attitudes are nowhere exempt from that!

Right around the time when generic/interchangeable boy bands, pop acts a la Britney Spears, the so-called Latin Explosion (think Ricky Martin as opposed to Los Lobos), the resurgence of raunchy teen comedies, slasher flicks (especially those most synonymous with the currently anemic/fiercely derided phase of Hollywood remakes of any pre-existing film), and a somewhat more anemic pop music scene. With band/vocalist names such as Limp Bizkit, Pussycat Dolls, and yes, even Green Day ( Oh, the blasphemy!), the general ambiance of today aren't as personal as they used to be... or at least the way I perceived things then... maybe it's in part to my (ever-)advancing age that makes me see the pop culture of my early days a bit more like the stereotypical old geezer of stereotypical youth culture lore... AND I'M 33 YEARS OLD!!!

But by this time, it's also the era of post-feminism, 9-11, Desperate Housewives, Girls Gone Wild, the era of "The Lad Magazines," i.e, Maxim, Stuff, FHM, Richad Dawkins-esque, atheist-chic, the conservative-shifting era of Western Civilization of Sarkozy, Merkel, Harpers, Reindfeldt (ironically thanks in part to unilaterialist George W. Bush!), and pretty much what I've been seeing all around me. By now, I've gained significant yardage in forgiving not only my stepmom, but even my ethnic heritage--given that I've forgiven both of my parents for their parental foibles. But also by now, I've noticed a stranger shift to how I view much of the aforementioned, hypocritical/negative traits that I previously found in my Chinatown community, now more prevalent in suburban America! *or at least more prevalent in my ever-maturing observations of the world around me...

Having been an L.A. resident all my life, it was just very recently that I finally started to comprehend the whole hometown reputation of why the SoCal metropolis I inhabited in is so synonymous with being fake! Strange that it took me soooooooooooooo long, but better late than never I suppose... ESPECIALLY when I'm starting to see how much of this city's superficiality is starting to embodies much of the Chinese cultural foibles--with a larger budget!

With the talk of this generation's women, trying to find their own sense of "empowerment," via sexual objectification (see Girls Gone Wild--just not literally, mind you!), the culture of female (a.k.a, "princess") entitlement, materialism (hint: the concept of bling in topical "urban" music, Paris Hilton, post-Malcolm Forbesian philosophy of high school... a la AX or TAG body sprays), drama queen culture of the Lindsay Lohan variety, cutthroat popularity contests (see Lohan again, in Mean Girls per exemple), immaturity (see Michael Kimmel's Guyland, or possibly even Ariel Levy's Feminist Chauvinist Pigs, a.k.a, arrested development), superficiality (2 words: Dr. 90210), plus the the advent of "designer babies," via the recent success of mapping out the humane Genome, hence bringing to mind the misogynistic infanticides of mainland China, embodying nowadays in the 3rd or so trimester of The Roe V. Wade era of American/Western history, I can't help but think that the source of my social commentary rage has now redirected itself in the very host nation culture that I previously sought to aspire to... I suppose much of these belated epiphanies finally came into (long overdue) visible fruition with not only a certain piece of recent, "personal history (involving a now-former platonic female friend)," but also with where I'm trying to move on in life with, careers, relationships, etc...

But for the sake of more culturally observant irony here, I can't help but think that given how "multicultural-savvy" Los Angeles is supposed to be, thanks in part to being one of a handful of Blue State, urban-centric, elitist cities stateside, I find myself cynically amused by how Buddhist-crazy, feng shui-nutty, Daoist/ancestral-worshipping-wacky much of my hometown's most stylish, affluent, but no more substantive in character (see Hollywood), I don't know if many of these pinheads are in on the joke that is what they're about to become; a bunch of Amy Tan clone rejects, not knowing how much of the culturally a$$-backwards nonsense they've been advocating against, is now embodied in their fascination of all things culturally Asian--especially Chinese traditional culture! And given how much this hometown is so synonymous with Rodeo Drive/Beverly Hills, read: plastic surgery, I'm surmising that many of the stereotypical Angelenos (Pilates-crazy or what not), are about to take a very literal example to saving face... kind of like FX's Nip/Tuck! And also given with how my hometown is also synonymous with the multi-billion dollar porn industry, it's rather darkly-hilarious to think that now L.A. can easily surpass Hong Kong with regards to uber-fake ladies, paid to fake orgasms--possibly even with fake boobs!

And for even more tragic irony yet mentioned, back when I was in high school, I used to watch a butt-load of made-in-Hong Kong movies, rented by my step-uncle (on my stepmom's side of the family), and let me tell everbody this: much of the crappy, pre-1997 handover dreck that I've had the misfortune of seeing (with catlike curiosity) seems to be embodying itself in the Hollywood of today! I mean, nowhere else in the world back in the day, have so much low-budget quality garbage in a town of a country, that technically shouldn't have any technical excuse for worse-than-sub-par arts and entertainment--AND I'VE SEEN MORE THAN MY SHARE OF HKTVB TV SHOWS! I suppose it might be at fault with the likes of Quentin Tarantino; yes, the same Tarantino I used to look up to for creative inspiration: now it seems he's all too content/contempt(?) with rehashing the same, grindhouse-era dreck, that probably used to be played in the Chinatown movie theaters of that day--porno and all!

All in all, I finally starting to conclude that maybe the prime reason why it'll be quixotic to shock the L.A. of my childhood with my cinematically-aspiring, gritty recollections of my Chinese cultural upbringing--'CAUSE MUCH OF WHITE/MULTICULTURAL/LIMOUSINE-LIBERAL L.A. HAVE BECOME THE SAME, SAPPY/CARTOON-ISH, HKTVB SOAP OPERA/CATEGORY III, MADE-IN-HONG KONG EXPLOITATION FLICK!!!

But like my the culture of my community/parents, where karma and reincarnation is the centerpiece of both afterlife/worldly living--especially with the cowardly resignation of recycled fatalism, I can't help but think that many of my City-of-The-Angels-compatriots, are unsuspectingly following this similar absurdity, by following in the karmic/reincarnating belief systems of my parents, community, and culture! Whether or not we'll be seeing an L.A. version of foot-binding, misogynistic infanticide, dumb pop movies with even dumber (HK-styled) soundtracks, child slavery (presumably done for "survivalist reasons"), and yes, the proverbial, Chinese feather duster (used much in the same light as the African-American switch, or the Latino/Chicano chancla), remains to be seen...
Oh wait a minute: we already got 3 down, and 2 more to go (on the list)!

St. Paul: or A Day Without Sex Is (Still) A Day NOT Wasted.

Thu, 09 Jul 2009 06:03:53 GMT

OK, OK, OK... I understand there's hardly catchy about this blog title--not to mention how wordy it is, but I thought I might wanna share with everyone my irreverent hypothesis concerning what The Apostle Paul once said about why men with uncontrollable passions are better off married, and trust me, it'll be worth your time and possibly funny bone!

Though I can't recall the exact Scriptural verse discussed here (yeah I know: I ought to read my Bible more often!), I will however, have to relay this to some interesting current events. Ever since I discussed about this subject to my therapist, I've been speculating what my life will be like, if I were to go (comme dit ca en francais), "chaud de la pince," (that's sex on the brain) maybe I could be married with children at this moment on (especially with the children part--IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!). And not only that, but for those who subscribe to Freudian psychology (i.e, sex is the driving force explaining why we work hard to achieve goals), maybe I could have been the (model minority) success story... as a filmmaker, published author, or even a businessman, worthy to be on the cover page of Forbes...    But for those who are keenly aware of the latter magazine's late founder's/publisher's secret gay life (read: Malcolm Forbes), I am reminded of perhaps maybe there's ample reason why I shouldn't be feeling insecure, unfulfilled as I perceive myself to be.

So by implication, I'm saying I have no major libido to worry about, or shall I say, talk about! But before I go Gov. Mark Sanford on everybody, just hear me out (on what my real point is). Like the aforementioned, scandal-ridden governor, I often wondered--even discussed with my shrink, what or why he did what he did--AND that's before we get into his TMI confessions of who his real, "soul mate" is! Maybe it's in part to whatever internal pain he has for so long, successfully shielded the public from, or perhaps on another part, Sanford's got what I personally called, "The Kissinger Syndrome." *i.e, power as the ultimate aphrodisiac. Or perhaps it's just the traditional issues of men having sex on the brain (almost) 24/7... which pretty much is what countless church ministries have to deal with in an especially, sex-saturated, telecom-based culture (read: the internet), this side of Marshal McLuhan.

Or how's this for life's crueler ironies: imagine this scenario, where I want to gain the father's blessing for me to marry the woman of my compatible dreams--ONLY to be dashed because I might not even have an adequate level of libido, not only disqualifying me from keeping my prospective spouse satisfied (i.e, the idea of being cuckolded, circa Medieval/Restoration-era English Lit.), but likewise with not having the same libido to propel me for loftier career ambitions (read: to be the provider, let alone a co-bearer of children)...   and meanwhile, the dad in question could be a pastor of some respective church!

To kind of put this in a Mark Twain sense of (ironic), hypothetical wit, maybe had I invest more time watching porn--even to the fraction of the bare minimal society seems to demand of me (!), engage in masturbation (hint: never spanked the monkey!!!), etc..., maybe I would be in a much more successful/fuller life... But that will also mean I will have to utilize my personal fortune in covering up my insecure character flaws!

I dunno: maybe it's that talk of the male species of humanity, trying to maintain their Darwinian drive to propagate the species--never mind the fact that with today's culture of "playas," spreading one's seeds (for procreative/supremacist reasons) is not exactly in their minds! But then again, I'm a creationist/believer in intelligent design, trying to make compatible my Christian beliefs with that constitutional concept of where we get our unalienable rights/sense of freedom, in our democracy!

But in the end, I'm surmising that had I have this major woody (sorry about my choice of innuendos), I would be just as successful as every politico, industrialist, A-list celeb, sports star, etc...   But by consequence, that means I too will have to deal with the "drunk-with-power," character-testing consequences of having that much fame/fortune/prestige as any other guy in the spotlight, much of which don't end very well!

And as someone yearning to have a career in film, I often wondered what would happened had I lived the same sort of stereotypical, dark underbelly-of-a-reputation--especially towards say, the end of my career, this side of... MICHAEL JACKSON!!!

Now, I don't want to get on the current MJ bandwagon, but hypothetically-speaking, had I achieved both my career and relationship/family goals, what sort of dark side will I have to cover-up, complete with shady enablers/handlers, that can't wait to capitalize on my Hollywood Confidential-styled, downfall? And especially with Jackson's recent media circus (at the Staples Center)--UHHHHH.... excuse me; televised public wake, what are the surest Vegas odds that I might get scorned for not only being over-glorified for accomplishments that are not all that big of a deal (historically speaking), but likewise with garnering more media attention than say, those who are more worthy of public glory upon death... like say our troops fighting against The Taliban and/or Al Qaeda?!

...and I haven't gotten into that other, hypothetically-controversial question of having all of my worst sins glossed over (at my hypothetical wake), never mind the fact that at any other public funeral of a controversial figure, like say... RICHARD NIXON(!!!), the proverbial elephant in the room is never persona non grata!

*and with some of the conveniently ignored, glossy remembrances (of Jackson) by the likes of The Rev. Al Sharpton, Jamie Fox, etc... I can only speculate the worst-case scenarios should some people despise me for being elevated to near-elder statesman status, like say Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.!   ...just ask Congressman Peter King:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2RmneMDZlWQ

But as I continually work hard in keeping my sanity intact (while simultaneously keeping my "going-through-the-motions" emotions in line), maybe all I can do is to not only remind myself God is going to give this dog his (promised) day, but also with knowing full well, maybe having a libido-centric existence, for all things career and family, is not what it cracks up to be. I mean, I've already linked personal sex drive with Gov. Mark Sanford, Michael Jackson, our troops in Afghanistan, the media, and Rep. Peter King (to embellish this more so)... all in one go!

It's amazing how much long-term, maximal damage can be achieved, with just a mere urge to merge...
Even St. Paul is probably laughing with me with this Albert Camus-esque lunacy!

From Mou to Miller: or my (belated Father's Day) treatise with my Dad

Tue, 23 Jun 2009 06:42:24 GMT

It's been probably 3 or more years since I finally forgave my Dad for all the abuse he heaped upon me, with WWII as his convenient excuse for his issues, etc. It's also about 3 years since I finally started to grow up from the sources of my 3 decades-long angst phase, or at least the basis thereof, for whatever subconscious repeats of my father's sins, i.e, using the past as my convenient excuse for life's greatest inconvenient truth: having the free will to not allow my circumstances to hinder living and growing. And with these in mind, I would like to make something of a manifesto of sorts, of how far I've grown up--alongside how much more I have to grow up down the road of life, since life doesn't necessarily ends with the rolling end credits... especially with Dad.

For most of my adolescent and young adult life, it's basic routine for me to whine, loathe, blame, and maybe worse, about my Dad, having not providing me the sort of "normal" childhood, if not life I've always craved since my more humbled beginnings (to perhaps phrasing it in a more adult, cool-headed way). But for some interesting moment in my life, I finally took upon the choice--almost in random, to let go of my grudges with the man who at best of times, the man who gave me life; at worst, the man who (at least in theory) deprived me of that life, had I remained a whiny teenager today. And with every memory I had of Dad then, it's always the routine self-pity of not having an education beyond 6th grade (education is something of a privilege in even in onetime British Crown Colony Hong Kong), not having the wiser life decisions to learn English (which explains why Dad used to grill it in me to be a more proficient reader/writer as if he's the Catholic Mother Superior around here), or in general, pitying himself for being too old to go back to school, so as to presumably learn/train how to be a better "Gold Mountain" success story, a.k.a, another model minority (never mind the fact that in this day and age of constantly evolving technologies and economic globalization, EVERYBODY AT ONE POINT OR ANOTHER IN THEIR CAREER LIVES, HAVE TO GO BACK TO SCHOOL...!       ...or just learn that in life, you never really stop learning--no disrespect to Alice Cooper!)....    ALL the while blaming it all on his childhood trauma on The Japanese (Imperial Armed Forces), who killed all/ loot all/ burned all, in their conquests to established their Asian-Pacific Empire. All of those days constantly talking about that horrific past caused my Dad to live in not only the past, but almost in near, arrested development, never able to forgive The Nation of The Rising Sun for the 1930's/1940's history, air raids and all! And even with the still complicated, controversial, unresolved issues of WWII, regarding official apologies/reparations, vis-a-vis The Rape of Nanking, vis-a-vis Unit 731, and vis-a-vis the indiscriminate aerial bombings of the Imperial Japanese Army/Naval Air Corps., my modus operandi views for him is to say that he's (Dad) still can't let it all go and move on...
http://www.metroactive.com/papers/metro/12.12.96/cover/china1-9650.html

...especially how I'm currently of the mature view that sometimes, sometimes, seeking (collective) revenge on a sadistic enemy, who especially wronged you in the most despicably gory way unimaginable, might not be what it all cracks up to be.*
*hint: The common theme found in the Asian Extreme "classics," such as Oldboy, and even (GASP!) Ichi The Killer(!), dealing consequentially with bully culture/psychological warfare, grudges, vengeance, and even the REAL intent/goals behind the sadistic atrocities... like experiencing ultimate ends of their (most depraved) masochistic fantasies(!)...   or to put in more mainstream terms, (Steven Spielberg's) Munich!

And had my Dad lived past his 50th year of existence/birthday (he died when I was in 7th grade, a.k.a, of Bar Mitzvah age), it wouldn't be a shock to me that he will rent/purchase a VHS copy of T.F. Mou's notorious gory/over-the-top/propaganda-burlesqued, WWII "epic," Men Behind The Sun--and its sorry excuses for a subsequent series of sequels! Like my Dad, director Mou seems to have this stubbornly attached view of Japan as the Japan of Adm. Yamamoto, Gen. Hideki Tojo, et al, forever trapped in begrudgingly-historical suspended animation, never able to not only move on, but in some perversely scheming way, allow himself to be something of a "prison b*tch" to those grudges; sorry, I can't find a more appropriately-direct way of describing it. But like in the aforementioned Asian Extreme movies, I can't help but constantly remind my (Christian) self, why bullies (of all sorts of makes) would want to work so feverishly hard to hurt/damage someone (sometimes of their cruel, capricious choosing): to continue holding psychological power over them--even after one or the other--possibly both, are dead and gone (perhaps to fill in that insecure void that the bullies otherwise can't productively substitute, in lieu of dictating others accordingly to their own deluded whims and fancies)! ...or as I would put it, a fruitless exercise in impassionate futility!

So it's not unusual for my Dad, to constantly remind himself outloud, almost religiously to some morbid extent, that he's just another cow/cattle to slaughter--and to anyone who has ever shared my sort of traditionally Chinese experience, there's this gi-normous emphasis on karma, which in my Dad's case, if you failed in life, you'll come back as a piece of livestock, waiting to be on someone's dinner plate...    *though don't tell that to the (Buddhism-lite-inclined) likes of PETA, Animal Liberation Front, and other animal rights radicals, whom ironically vote pro-choice/abortion!

But yet somewhere down the life of my then-budding thirty-something phase of life, I must have made some proactive meditations/reminders on how much more empathetic my Dad is, in spite of his all too "memorable" flaws... kind of like how I managed to forgave my mom's abuses/transgression heaped upon nearly a decade prior! I don't know what it was that finally allow me the human freedom to choose forgiveness and moving on (hint: God's grace, possibly?), but I'm grateful/glad that I took that opportune "leap of faith," when it was most appropriate... which then leads me to portray my Dad (and possibly my mom) in a more... Willy Loman-esque kind of way...

Probably since my stint in community college, I became all the more obsessed with not only Arthur Miller's seminal play, but with all things Arthur Miller, i.e, All My Sons (which I will later discuss in a later blog). Given the Gold Mountain/ Model Minority aspect of my Dad's complex life/psychological history, I can't help but be reminded of how much the titular tragic hero resembles my father in some ways. He was (to paraphrase Scorcese's Taxi Driver) a someone trying to be a somebody--like countless others in his generation, discovering their American Dream (albeit on my Dad's side, from Hong Kong, mainland China, Vietnam, etc...). Like Willy Loman, Dad probably had some caricaturistic views of what it means to be a success, since anyone who has ever grown up in a Asian "Fresh-Off-The-Boat" (of FOB) household will tell you how much education and hard work is so paramount in their respective lives... almost to the point of a schizophrenic meltdown (an ethnic theme of which I'm all too intimate with...). But still yet, like Loman, has my Dad been missing out on the bigger picture behind being a real success story... like how to keep a healthy, functioning, loving family (instead of pursuing some high-end worldly title of being a career success)? I mean isn't the real point behind being a career success--or just having any career, period--is to invest it on the people that matters the most, i.e, family, friends? Even if there's domestic problems with either family and/or friends, like hey, think of it this way--as a certain investment ad suggests:

Nobody says on their death bed that they should have spent more time at the office.

Or in short: a living to support/spend time with your loved ones (especially if God is part of it all) is the ends to your career means, not the other way around!

And off tangent, I've been feeling all too grateful for my Dad, for bestowed some of the better traits I had for most of the life of me, overlooked, such as perseverance and a predication for culinary ventures: translation; knowing how to cook. Maybe some future wife and my future-in-laws out there, should be feeling much more enthused that I can (or at least constantly learning how) to prepare some pho, veal marsala, Vietnamese rice noodle dish, fried rice, Tom Yum Goong, matzo ball soup, jook, beer can chicken, Cote de Boeuf, tempura, sushi, etc...!

Maybe it's not a total loss AT ALL, knowing full well (in hindsight at least), that there is ample evidence of my father, having actually spent quality time with me... otherwise how can one explains some of my domestic skills/hard work ethics? *hint: it's probably not just because of my then-latch key kid status! And as I continually look forward to learning how to enjoy living--especially with my current status in career goals, maybe I should jumpstart an annual tradition, every Mother's/Father's Day, giving my due respects to their grave sites (and even thanking G_d), knowing ultimately well that their efforts were never in vain--had they seen how far I've progressed, not just with say, my collegiate accomplishments, but likewise with whatever character development needed to really advance and enjoy living (including with whoever/whomever I want to share my blessings with)... an accomplishment of which, even I'm relatively assured my Dad should be open to the idea of being proud of.
And who knows: I can even live long enough to see eye-to-eye with those who purportedly not only wronged me, but ironically also inspired/compelled me to grow and pursue la dolce vita! *see Dad per exemple...
http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/english/doc/2005-09/18/content_478811.htm