I like to travel, read, write, dance and pretend. At the moment I am suffering an insufferable phase of self-aggrandizement, premature maturity and lack of wit.
If you think you can help me out of this funk, write me at idaman.z@gmail.com
Went to see David Henry Hwang’s M. Butterfly last Thursday, and it was very nice, although it’s still nowhere near the greatness of the Tony winning 1988 (? I'm not sure what year it was) production. Ever head of Puccini’s opera Madame Butterfly, where a Japanese woman kills herself after she was spurned by her white American husband? Hwang’s M. Butterfly plays on the same issues but turns the whole concept on its head – now East is masculine to the West’s femininity. A French expatriate in China falls in love with a Chinese opera actor, ignorant of the fact that all female characters in Chinese opera are played by men. Woohhoo. And after 21 years of love and lust he says he never once suspected Song Liling (yow what a name) was a man.
It’s brilliant I tell you. I jacked J’s copy of the screenplay (he had it for an opera class) and fell in love with the story before ever seeing it staged.
Wahaha. I don’t know. I just love stories about cross-dressers and same sex lovers. They just make my day.
Shopped on Friday – got myself pretty shoes I have yet to wear. J thought he saw America’s Sweetheart herself a.k.a Ms. Roberts (of the Pretty Woman fame). Heh. I once saw someone I thought was J. L. Hewitt, but dude, who cares. If it was Mr. Pitt I’d probably have run up to him and kiss his golden skin before being flicked away by his bodyguards, but Hewitt? Nah.
Stopped by the crazy music warehouse that is Amoeba on Sunset Boulevard – goddamn that place is HUGE. Their selection is crazy. So are the people that patronize the place – interesting characters, y’all. They scare me.
Stayed up all night and packed for a trip up north to San Francisco. Had to force myself to move and were finally on our way by 4 a.m.
I saw the yellow, ugly hills of southern California give way to the cool greenness of the north as the sun rose. The morning sun baked my right side as we drove through the stick straight Interstate 5 (wanted to take the 1 but it’s just impractical for a 2 day trip – too time consuming).
Bypassed the city, reached a friend’s place at a Hampton-esque small town called Fairfax.
Had great fun doing the things the locals do.
(I hiked yo! And jumped on a trampoline. And ate organic food! And swung from a rope swing!)
Crazy family. Damien’s* dad gave us bongos and tambourines and had us play a tribal sounding composition as a welcome. The friend’s parents are Sufis but not Muslims – how cool is that ya? They’re also very into the au naturel way of life. Very hippie, very active family. Dude, Damien and his 11 year old brother ran a very hilly 7 mile race the day after we arrived. They’re crazy.
Conversation over lunch at a restaurant:
Damien: Mom, my friend was thinking of going surfing at Santa Cruz.
Mom: Santa Cruz? Oh yes, I heard it’s a great surf.
Aunt: I used to surf in Santa Barbara back in my days.
Grandma: Yes, that’s a great place to surf.
I glanced at J and J looked at me – this 70 year old lady surfs?? Goddamn! This Grandmama is super cool.
Arrived home with a heavy heart. Loved that place. Note to self: get a house there once I’ve made my first twenty million (the real estate just kills me).
Monday I had my 10 page paper on Sir Gawain and the Green Knight returned (for an English Lit class). I didn’t want to look at the grade – I wrote it in a day with minimal revising after that blasted weekend in Minnesota (yeah dudes I was there).
The professor is in love with me! I got an A yo! I’m a genius (please ignore the fact that I am currently failing my engineering “Theory of Structures” class).
The rest of the week just flew by. Classes, gym, trying to detox my diet. Oh yeah, according to my kinesiology labs my cardiovascular endurance is pretty good. I am superfit! I’m running 6 miles a day now! Wooh. But. There’s always a “but”. I don’t have a lot of muscle strength. Endurance yes, strength, not too much. The most I could lift for an arm curl was 35. My former cheerleader lab partner could lift 55. Leg extensions – mine 195, hers 240. O_o
Oh well, if she ever feels like beating me into a pulp I’ll just outrun her. Wahaha.
This is a boring entry. This place needs a revamp.
