Prayer.

For the victims of the explosions in Boston, I pray that the injured may find comfort in the midst of pain and shock, and that the families of the deceased may be kept safe and supported within their communities as they endure the evil in this world. 

For those who do not take this tragedy seriously, I pray that someday they will see how much others are hurt by injustice and senseless acts of terror and that they will join the rest of us as we pray and act toward bringing about a less horrific world.

And for the rest of you out there, I pray we all get to live in a safer world someday, where the acts of the billions of good people finally drown out the few of the bad and eliminate those actions to the fullest extent possible.

Because it's relevant.

So I meant to include in my last post about the value of things, but I completely forgot about it until now, so here we go.

I teach swim lessons at my local YMCA. I've been working there for more than a year now, and every day I see these kids ages 3-12 who give me these hilarious and adorable stories to tell. Lately, though, I've been noticing a lot of sassy and spoiled kids. As a kid, I remember being terrified if an adult became angry with me! Now I have kids in my class who look at me and deliberately do the opposite of what I told them to do just to piss me off, I swear to God. Someday, one of them is just going to give me the finger and do a backflip into the water. Kids these days...

When I used to take swim lessons at the same ol' Y with my little brother, my mother would take us down to Target to buy a little toy every time we moved up a class. Lemme tell you, this was never an easy feat! I remember being flipped around my instructor's arm in front of the whole class because I was just so damn scared to do it by myself. Anything for a new box of LEGOs. Anything.

I thought for sure that all of the parents in the world had just stopped doing this. All I hear nowadays is "My mommy says if I jump in the water, I get a phone!" WHAT. STOP. LITTLE CHILD, YOU ARE SEVEN. Unless they mean this, in which case, way to go parents:

They probably don't even sell these anymore. The shame...

So I was sitting in the office one day, just munching on my millionth Tootsie Roll of the day, when a little girl rushes in with her  instructor (rushing because everything -- the water, the air, the souls of some of the children -- are ice cold), who gives her a high-five and a mini Tootsie Roll. This girl's face just LIT UP. I mean who knows, maybe she's never ever had a Tootsie Roll in her life. The kid ran outside to her mother, to whom my co-worker explained that she had just jumped into the water by herself at the deep end for the first time ever. Now the mother's face lit up, and she started rushing her kid into the locker room, saying, "I'm so proud of you! Ok, let's get you dressed so we can buy you a WHOLE SODA." Whoa. Slow down there. A WHOLE soda? Not like, just a little sip or anything? BEST DAY EVER. The kid looked like she was going to explode. All of a sudden, I felt like the spoiled little kid (didn't stop me from eating 5,000,000,00 more Tootsie Rolls though).

To all those people out there who think that not giving a child everything he/she wants is a crime, go on raising your little army of Dudley Dursleys, not letting them appreciate the simple things in life. See if I care. Actually, I might, since I might end up teaching them in my next class. 

Why? Because it's relevant. Kind of.

It's All About Perspective

Warning: Many many nerdy and confusing moments in this post. Bear with me. Or you could just go eat a pie. I don't know, do whatever.

In my AP Literature class, we've been reading the book Tess of the d'Urbervilles. Basically, it's about a girl named Tess who is stripped of her innocence because she is essentially raped by a creepy and mustached man named Alec who leaves her to raise a child on her own. She names the child Sorrow shortly before it dies, and goes to work on a dairy farm. While there, she meets handsome and chivalrous Angel, and the two fall in love. D'aw. She agrees to marry him, happy happy, then she marries him, happy happy, and all of a sudden, he falls out of love with her when she tells him about her illegitimate child, depressing depressing.

After all of these things happen, Tess is eventually stuck on her own, and has a tricky little encounter with a tricky little man, and she ends up sleeping in the woods in a nest of leaves. When she wakes up, she finds these injured birds who were shot but not killed, lying around in the woods. As she looks at them, all she can think of is how she was so foolish to think that her emotional pain was so terrible when these birds are dying. Now, considering what her life has been like, I wanted to just tell Tess, "So, hon... It's ok to feel a little stress if you're you. Don't you worry about those birds."

It's all about perspective. The value of objects can be predetermined by monetary or sentimental value, but don't let that fool you. Things change, and perspective can bring the importance of things in or out of focus. Something that's been on my mind is oddly... my phone case. My brother bought me a shiny new green phone case for Christmas since he knew I wanted a new one. The old one was just part of the package when I got my phone, but it was a good $30 at least (probably actually $20 because of a sale), and no one noticed it. It was black, boring, but it did its job. Now, as for this new shiny case, all of a sudden I got little comments left and right. Looks very sleek. Cool. I like the design. I knew that my brother had paid probably a maximum of $10, which gave me the idea in my head that it wasn't worth that much. But every time someone asks where I got my phone case, I'm more and more eager and happy to tell them that my awesome li'l brother bought it for me as a present.

In the book Sway: The Irresistible Pull of Irrational Behavior, there's a whole chapter dedicated to the idea of first impressions. For any human mind, the first impression is always the strongest, and almost impossible to shake. It effects draft picks, job interviews, college interviews, etc. (so now you've been warned). My dad, who's the principal of a firm, knows when he's found a new employee within the first five minutes that they're in his office, because of the impressions they make just with their body language and their manner. I was particularly bothered by this chapter, because although I know it's basic human nature, there's always some part that wants to give people, ideas, and objects a second chance, to try and make up for a bad first impression. I'd like to think of any major change in someone or something as a second first impression (yeah that totally makes sense), and that opinions can fundamentally, 100% change, whether it be for better or worse. Unless someone is stubborn. Stubborn people are just... Outliers. Do whatever the hell you want.

Crap. I need to stop pretending to be an intellectual. I'll draw really bad cartoons or something next time. Anyway, bottom line is: try giving something a second chance. Especially if it changes your opinion of something for the better.

The Art of BS

My posts are beginning to become more and more profane, and I really can't decide if this is a bad thing or not. Anyway. Sorry I haven't been blogging in a while! I guess my life's just been too boring to even talk about... I might cry.

First of all, I'd like to give a huge shout-out to those who performed at my school's Cabaret Night last weekend. I say this incredibly awkwardly since I also performed on Saturday, but sure I'll give myself a shout-out I guess. For trying.

So on Friday, I had to sing for my church at the Stations of the Cross. It was a small event, and I don't get really get nervous about singing with my mom in the audience since she hears me banging on the piano every single day. Nevertheless, about five minutes before I had to get up and sing "O Sacred Head Surrounded," my heart just plummeted. I don't think I would feel like that if someone punched me in the stomach and whacked that place right under the knees where the doctors hit to test your reflexes (In case you were wondering it's called a saphenous nerve. Oh, only I was wondering? Well, fine.) Now there are two kinds of butterflies that can inhabit your stomach: the nice kind of butterflies that you get when you see someone you really like (d'aww) or the nasty, carnivorous, evil, and viscous kind that you get if you get extreme stage fright. I have extreme stage fright. If I didn't, I'd be bothering you with a vlog instead, making awkward faces and stuttering a lot.

While I was singing for the Stations of the Cross, I realized toward the very end that I had completely forgotten the words of the last line. So guess what I did? Well of course I made it up! When I looked back at the line, I was almost impressed myself- the line had made sense in the context of the song. Yay me. I can successfully and quickly BS things on a second's notice. Be proud. Anyway, nobody noticed, which is why I say I was successful, and thought for a moment that my stress was out of the way.

The next day, I realized I was not at all prepared for Cabaret Night. My butterflies had evolved into writhing, hairy monsters (do you like the imagery?), and it took me three times to try and get a full run-through of "Learn to be Lonely" to not end up with my palms on the piano in exasperation. Angst angst angst. When I finally arrived at sound check, I realized I had forgotten my music, and that I couldn't go back home since my parents were out of town. I REALLY need to get a license. I reassured everyone that I had memorized the piece and that I would be fine, when secretly I was about to pee myself in fear. I had learned a lot about positive mental images before a race or performance, so I guess it was already a bad sign that the only image that I could conjure in my mind was one where I lay on the floor in a fetal position, crying. So much for trying to be an optimist. Luckily, I only messed up about five measures. YAY!! I just completely stopped playing, and all I can remember is my mouth open, praying to God that people can actually hear my singing, and OH THERE'S THE CHORD, DAMN IT. With a lot more cusses.

Point is, I hate stage fright. Time to go curl up into a fetal position and get some insecticide for my stomach. And when I say insecticide I mean snickerdoodles.

Crime-Fighting With Sassiness

So instead of watching the Super Bowl Halftime Show, I'm blogging. Yes, I'm that person. Besides, I don't really want to go downstairs and be around three teenage boys who just finished off a two liter bottle of Mountain Dew in less than half an hour... Never mind they just came upstairs. There is no escape.

Where was I? Right. Crime-fighting. So when it comes to TV shows, I become so obsessed with some that I do nothing else for the next few weeks except watching that show and the occasional homework. It's extremely unhealthy and I do not recommend it. It's also the reason I never started watching Doctor Who. Just recently, though, I found that the first three seasons of the show Castle is on YouTube, so I braced myself for a long few weeks.

Basic Summary: Castle is a show about a best-selling author, Richard Castle, who has just killed off the main character in his latest set of novels. In need of some inspiration, he starts following around Detective Kate Beckett after he's needed to help solve a case of a triple-homicide based on some of his earlier books. At first Castle's allowed to hang around the 12th Precinct because he's buddies with the mayor of NYC, but then he eventually stays because of the friendships he's made with the detectives and mortician (d'aww).

If you don't watch Castle, and you are interested in good acting, or good plotlines, or good crime-solving, or good anything, then check it out. Nathan Fillion and Stana Katic have some of the best on-screen chemistry that I have seen in a while, and the entire cast just makes me smile. :) It's unfortunately all too common to have a show with all good actors with such good chemistry with some awkward main character in the middle of all the awesomeness. At first, I had my doubts about Molly Quinn (who plays Castle's daughter Alexis), but she's proved to be just as capable as the other actors on the show.

SPOILER ALERT. (hint hint watch the show now hint hint)

One thing I've noticed with these popular shows is that there's usually some sexual tension involved. This makes it extremely difficult for writers because of the nature of television shows, because they can do one of two things: they can either make the characters realize this tension that they have and... have a good time... OR, they can just drift apart because they can't just stick with that tension forever. The show would become boring, the jokes would become old, and the characters would stop being so dynamic. The second unfortunate truth about this kind of show is that either way, everybody loses because then there's no show.

...Or is there? Here's a classic example of avoiding this problem: In Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy and Angel started off with a lot of this tension that the writers weren't sure people would like. Once the fans reacted, they decided to keep Angel on the show, but all of a sudden, he and Buffy are suddenly so in love, everything is happy and beautiful and right in the world... So BAM, they have sex and Angel becomes an entirely different person because of a mysterious gypsy curse. Joss Whedon, with all of his genius, makes it physically impossible for Angel to have one truly happy moment without becoming evil. There's always some hope, because otherwise the fans would just cry of disappointment all the time. Good shows make fans cry only once in a while.

I find it hilarious when I see these tweets (yes, I have Twitter) about how "Omigosh those two are toootally gonna get together at the end of this episode" or "Why can't So-and-so and So-and-so just realize they're perfect for each other??" because I know that the exact opposite is about to happen. The writers just have to throw in some monkey wrench in there so people keep watching the show. When I tell my cousin what I think will happen next in The Vampire Diaries, 10 times out of 10 she disagrees with me and 9 times out of 10 I'm right. So there.

Back to Castle, here's where I really should've put the spoiler alert. So yes... Castle and Beckett are a thing. Caskett. Stana Katic (Beckett) apparently ships Caskett even harder than some of the fans, which is something I've never heard of before. (Also related to real life, "Richard Castle" actually wrote a couple books! Heat Wave, Naked Heat, Heat Rises, and Frozen Heat are all New York Times Bestsellers and available at a bookstore near you. I just read that in my head in a very deep male voice.) Caskett could've been awkward, and fortunately there are no magical curses that turn Castle the wise-ass into Castle the asshole, so the writers did something completely different -- They continued the sexual tension as the whole audience watches knowing that they just got out of bed. There's even an episode where they literally take turns cockblocking each other with their obsessive crime-solving habits. I appreciate the genius so much. I also apologize for making this post a little inappropriate...

So there you have it. Watch the show. Stop reading this right now and just watch it.

I'll try not to digress so much in my next post. So thanks for readinSQUIRREL.

On a More Serious Note (WAY More Serious)

Bear with me, this is serious but also very important. Listen up! Or rather read up... Even though that's not a phrase.

About a week ago, I was reading some newspaper or magazine (I think it was either the New York Times Magazine or The Economist), and I read an article about a 23-year-old rape/murder victim in India. It's sparked a massive debate throughout the world about the lack of action in the southern Asian countries when it comes to public humiliation and rape.

Tonight, there was a vigil held on the Cornell campus to honor this woman and to discuss what can be done to prevent these awful occurrences from happening. I initially went because my friend's mother asked if I could bring a bass drum down and keep a beat as a group of about maybe thirty or forty people sang both "We Shall Overcome" and a traditional Indian song. I don't know what it's called, but the whole beginning was so solemn. It definitely made me think twice about grinning and waving as I saw a few of my friends there as I most often do.

For the next hour and a half, around ten people went up to a podium and spoke about the issues surrounding rape. My friend's mother was the first to speak, and introduced the problems that the world is facing (yes RIGHT NOW), and called for justice for those dead or injured because of abuse. Justice, not revenge.

After her, a South Asian History professor from Cornell spoke, and what she said really hit home for me. Her basic point was that all of us walk around every day thinking none of these bad things will happen to us because we would never be out that late, or we would never dress like that, etc. So here's the problem: this woman who was brutally murdered was attacked on a public bus in a major city while with her boyfriend. Does this scenario sound familiar to any of you? Scary, no? I immediately thought back to a few days ago when my dad told me something that happened years ago. I had gone to a friend's house for a sleepover on the badish side of town. He figured it'll be ok, the neighborhood doesn't look too bad. So here I am, years older, and I just found out that the very same night there was a murder in someone's house three blocks down. This is scary business, people... I also thought of a story from Calvin and Hobbes when the family comes back from a wedding to find that their house had been robbed.

Yes, I was a Calvin and Hobbes fan.

When I first walked into the room where the vigil was taking place, I was surprised to see a mix of races there (I had looked at the invite list on Facebook... All Indian people), but also glad. One student, a Canadian with roots in China, actually read an episode from The Vagina Monologues, talking about the brutality and wrongness of rape with a few added statistics on the side. One billion women in the world have been sexually abused. That's one in three women. That's a LOT of people, and that doesn't even include the men and children.

Know your facts. Raise awareness. Aaand that's about as much seriousness as I can take.

New year, same old stuff

So now that I've looked back on my last post and realized it was basically all ranting, I'm going to provide you with an actual review of Les Miserables. GET EXCITED.

Watching Les Mis was like drinking a cup of coffee. For me, drinking a regular cup o' joe is a little similar to drinking something more like this:

When I first drink coffee, all I get is bitter taste, and it lasts me the entire cup (or abnormally large bowl-like container). Then, as I'm sitting in class, waiting to finally feel awake and on top of things, all I can think about is how much I need to pee (unfortunate but biologically inevitable). Finally, when I'm least expecting it, BAM. That darn tapping foot sneaks up on me to give me a thirty second warning that I'm about to start bouncing off the walls. So why do I drink coffee? The world may never know. (Speaking of which, if you immediately recognized that last sentence because of a tootsie pop commercial, you may still be wondering how many licks it takes to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop. The general consensus places an average around 600-800. You're welcome.)

So going back to Les Mis, here's what I thought. In terms of filmmaking, the beginning was rocky. The camera angles and weird switches made me a little uneasy, but I suppose it was for an intended effect. In any case, I assumed someone would understand it, and continued watching the movie with a little more cynicism. All of a sudden, there are a bunch of raggedy old men pulling HUGE ropes (as in, not the kind you'd read about in Fifty Shades of Grey. Not that I read Fifty Shades of Grey.), singing about looking down. This is when I first started regretting having little background with the story, because literally all I could understand were the two words "LOOK DOWN." On the positive side, though, this was the first I saw of an incredible display of costumes, hair, and makeup. One thing that really stood out, especially because of the director's apparent obsession with close-ups, was that no one had perfect teeth! Brownie points to Tom Hooper for historical accuracy. In case you were wondering, the beginning was coffee's bitter taste... with a little hazelnut flavoring (love that stuff).

If you're wondering how I'm going to make a vague analogy to the middle of the movie with my need to pee after drinking coffee, don't you worry. I actually needed to go (can I say that on a blog? I guess I'll find out one way or another). There was a lot of emotional singing from Hugh Jackman, and I really wish I could have started feeling emotionally attached at that point, but... I didn't. Don't worry, it becomes important later on in the story, and the emotions are magnified to level "unbearable." It's wonderful (but actually).

The tears started to fall when Anne Hathaway sang "I Dreamed a Dream," which was inevitable. When I saw the first trailer for the movie, when she sang through most of the song, that was when I decided that I would become extremely excited about this film. In all seriousness, what really made this movie memorable was the acting. Not the singing, sad to say, because I do think they could have picked up fresh new singers like they did for film version of The Phantom of the Opera, but then again, the acting talent would have become a huge risk factor, so I'm glad they stuck with people like Catwoman, Wolverine, Bellatrix Lestrange... Oh wait I mean...

Referring to my previous post, I liked Russell Crowe as Javert. Sorry?... Seriously, though, if you think about it, there are people who really just can't sing. Crowe can sing!! His voice just isn't exactly one of an angel, but I thought it fit his part well because of how he portrayed such a gruff and determined man, so although his voice is a big grating or barking, I liked how it built on the character.

Finally, I'd like to talk about the whole metaphorical bouncing off the walls part of the movie. If you haven't guessed, my emotions were what were going nuts, because after Hathaway's little song, almost everything was worthy of enough bawling to fill my empty bag of chips with tears. I'll let you guess how big the bag of chips was. There were happy moments and lovable moments, but mostly it was TEAR-JERKING, MIND-BOGGLINGLY BITTERSWEET MOMENTS OF SADNESS. If maybe half of this cast gets back together and does another sad movie, I'll come prepared with a box of tissues. I thought just going to the theater sans makeup would be enough, but I was so wrong. I'd also like to mention the amount of respect I have for Tom Hooper and his brilliant idea of recording everything live. Yes. You heard me. If you didn't already know, here's an interesting fact: None of the singing you hear on that big screen is coming from a studio. Every emotion, pause, and slight break in voice (if they're crying) is the real deal that they recorded during the filming and simply makes everything raw and natural.

For people who don't like ramblings and long explanations... Why are you on my blog? Just kidding, but here's a basic overview of my opinion in number-speak. The ratings are out of 10:

Acting: 9.999999999999 (well I mean they're not robots)
Music: 9
Directing: 10 (because Tom Hooper is obviously a robot)
Editing: 7
Mise en scene (cinematography): 8
Costumes, hair, and makeup: 10 (they're also robots)

I would put an enticing little "Next Up:" thing here, but I usually rebel against myself and decide to write about something else.

Next Up: The world may never know.