February 2005 Archives
I fully intended to write about the women of American Idol on Wednesday morning, but like other plans, this one also went astray. Now, I can pretend to write this as though I didn't see Wednesday night's results show, but I wouldn't be fooling anyone. Instead, what I can attempt to do is remain true to the notes I took while watching Tuesday's episode. Yes, I took notes. It's an illness, I know, but only a musical one, so I can dig it.
Since I used baseball as a backdrop to rate the boys, I think it only fair to use it for the girls, too.
Home Runs: Carrie Underwood, Nadia Turner, Aloha Mischeaux. Underwood sang a country song and channeled Kelly Clarkson to slam one out of the park. "Big Hair" Turner rocked one into the bleachers with stage presence and style. Mischeaux went to bat with a Beyonce song and powered it into the bleachers.
Triples: Jessica Sierra. I'm not a huge fan of "Against All Odds", but Sierra's crystal clear voice drove this one into the corner for a triple.
Doubles: Vonzell Solomon, Mikalah Gordon. Solomon sang "Heatwave", another song I don't really like, but kept the energy up throughout the performance. Gordon lined one down the first base line on personality alone. Her enthusiasm is contagious and life threatening. In my notes, I wrote, "sounds like Taylor Dayne".
Singles: Janay Castine, Sarah Mather, Lindsey Cardinale. Castine gave a decent performance despite the obvious nervousness. She didn't hit a single; she blooped one. Mather's performance was confusing. She sang a high-energy song without any energy. It was a check swing hit. As for Cardinale, I like her voice, but her performance bordered on boring.
Outs: Amanda Avila, Melinda Lira, Celena Rae. All three sang their power ballads out of tune. It was like watching a batter take a bad swing at a pitch out of the strike zone. Not pretty. Lira was exceptionally off. She made cringe and cover my eyes. I would have covered my ears, but then I would have missed the horror of it all.
For those keeping score at home, the two contestants who received the lowest number of votes were Melinda Lira and Jared Yates. I thought they both struck out and "America" agreed. Sarah Mather and Judd Harris had the second lowest vote totals. I thought they both hit singles and deserved to stick around one more week, but the text messaging public thought differently.
Whose journey will end next week? I can't wait to find out. How many times will Seacrest say "your journey ends here" or Jackson say "you have to leave it all on the stage"? I can't wait to drink a shot (of espresso) each time they do. Only three more days until the guys are back to perform.
The planet becomes a much more interesting place when things don't go as planned. This morning's plan was to come to work on time. It was a simple plan, the type of plan that is easy to execute on a good night's sleep and a cup of coffee. A more difficult plan would be coming to work early.
The plan was going well until I reached the parking lot next to the office, which is located downtown. In downtown, parking is limited. That's not true. Parking is plentiful. It's just not free. As a convenience to its workers, the company leases a number of parking stalls from the adjacent lot and provides each employee with an access card.
I've used the card a handful of times since coming to the new office last month. I insert it into the card reader, the reader beeps, I remove the card, the gate rises and I park. It works wonderfully. Correction. It worked wonderfully. It stopped working yesterday.
When I inserted the card, the reader did nothing. It did nothing multiple times as I inserted and removed the card repeatedly. It did nothing as a line of impatient cars formed behind mine. The attendant finally came over to see what was holding things up and gave me a look. I gave him the card.
"When was the last time you used it?" he asked, wagging the card.
At first, I thought it was a trick question. I wanted to say, "Just about three seconds ago. Didn't you see me?" I sensed sarcasm would be the wrong approach, so I went with, "Last week."
He tried the card in the reader. Half of me wanted it to work. It would have meant user error and a fair dose of embarrassment, but at least I would've been able to park. The line had grown longer and more impatient. Half of me though, the proud half, was quite happy when the card failed.
The attendant gave me another look (actually, the same one as before) and I sent him a subliminal message, "Please be nice."
"I'm going to be nice and let you park today," he said. "Talk to your company and get this straightened out." I thanked him and he used a key to activate the gate so I could park.
I spoke with somebody in administration later in the day. She said a few people had experienced the same problem, but the company had squared everything away. "The card should work fine tomorrow," she assured me.
That sentence echoed in my head as I experienced déjà vu at the parking lot this morning. Same card, same reader, same attendant, different line of cars, but same impatience.
"When was the last time you used it?" the attendant asked as he gave me the look.
"Yesterday. It didn't work then either. I talked with my company and they said everything was squared away." As I spoke, I sent him another subliminal "be nice" message.
He apparently missed it (or I forgot to subliminally say please) because he said, "I see. Well, it appears your company doesn't want you parking here. I'm going to raise the gate. You have a choice. You can turn around and leave or you can pay five dollars and park."
Now, I realize I pay money to come to work every weekday, either at the gas pump or at the train station, but I don't like the idea of paying to park at work. I also realize that many people do, but that just seems wrong, as wrong as metered sitting (occupy a cubicle for $1.00 per hour, 12 hours maximum per day, all major credit cards accepted).
I knew I was straying from the plan, but I wasn't going to spend mocha money to park. I made a new plan on the spot: come to work late. I said to the attendant, "I'll just turn around. Thank you." I ended up parking at a Park & Ride lot two miles away and taking the light rail to the office. The free parking cost me twenty minutes, but the peppermint mocha I plan to have in just a few moments will be totally worth it.
It’s taken a few weeks for this season of American Idol to voyage through the sea of hopefuls (and hopefully nots) and reach the final pool of twenty-four. For the next three weeks, "America" will narrow each set of twelve (divided into men and women) down by two each week.
Randy Jackson claimed that this year’s guys were strong and that was evident as they took the stage. Based on last night’s performances, I already know who I want to make it through. In honor of MLB's Spring Training, which began last week, I'll be using baseball terminology to describe how I think they did. As a special treat, it will all be done without cutting to a commercial break.
Home Runs: Bo Bice, Anwar Robinson and Mario Vazquez. Bice looked like a rock star (from three decades ago, but still) and sang like one, too. He knocked "Drift Away" out of the park. Robinson, who I think has the strongest voice, hit a towering shot over the centerfield fence with "Moon River". I don't remember what Vazquez sang, but he lined one beyond the wall on charisma alone. The guy knows how to perform and looks like he's having fun.
Doubles: Scott Savol and Travis Tucker. Like Studdard or Aiken from two seasons ago, Savol has a voice that doesn't seem to match his look and he has power. Tucker has potential, but he played it safe last night and nailed a Stevie Wonder standard down the third base line for a double.
Walks: Constantine Maroulis. Simon Cowell likes to lump Maroulis with Bice. True, they both have long brown hair and the "rocker" label, but I think they're unique enough that it's unfair to group them together. He didn't mangle Seal's "Kiss From a Rose", but he didn't do anything spectacular with it either. I'm giving him an intentional walk because I like him. With the right song, I think he can hit one out.
Singles: Nikko Smith, Anthony Fedorov and Judd Harris. They all have nice vocals, but as Simon says, "So what?" Even with the help of honey and tea (and any other legal performance enhancing substances), I don't envision them hitting anything for extra bases.
Outs: David Brown, Jared Yates and Joseph Murena. Murena's singing voice has this unpleasing pleading quality to it. Some people sing, he cries. He grounded out weakly to the pitcher, who took it to the bag himself. The other two guys struck out with songs about good-bye. Brown sang "Never Can Say Good-bye" and Yates sang "How Could I (Say Good-bye)". On Idol, I think the fastest way to say farewell is to sing about how hard it is to say farewell. For the American public, it really isn't that difficult. With any luck, two of these three will be gone on Wednesday.
Tonight, the women step up to the plate and perform. If you miss it, don't worry. I'll have another exciting report tomorrow. And by "exciting", I mean exciting to me. Until then, Seacrest I'm out.
Sometimes, the days tend to blur together. I look at the calendar, pick a random square and begin to wonder if anything actually happened that day. Take Tuesday, for instance. Nothing extraordinary occurred. It was a run-of-the-mill, routine day. As time moves on, I will slowly and sadly forget those waking hours. Maybe, in the grand scheme of life, certain days are meant to fade into the background.
If a cardboard box represented a person’s life and the objects it contained represented precious memories or moments, then the space in between would represent the days when nothing happened. Even in highly fulfilling or exciting lives, some days are less fulfilling or exciting than others are. If a person could somehow collect a memento every day, there would be too many for any single box to hold. The only way to make them all fit would be to shrink them down, thereby reducing their importance.
Some people are better at packing than others. They know what they want and how everything will fit: a marriage here, a new home there, a promotion, a family, trips to remote countries and rewarding hobbies. They manage to live their lives with such quality that their ordinary days are more than air in between precious objects. Those days are foam peanuts, cushioning valuable memories and keeping them protected when tragedy strikes and drops a bowling ball on their box.
I'm skipping all over the place and not sure where this is going, but I know I'm trying to avoid phrases like "living life to the fullest" or "making the most of every moment". What I wanted to say is that I shouldn't stress out about days when nothing "significant" happens. I just have to be sure that those days are foam peanut days.
What type of day is that? That is a day where I am friendly, aware and active. That is one where I eat properly, exercise properly, get enough sleep, earn my keep, continue to learn, continue to write, laugh a little, love a little and drink good coffee. I was going to include "make the world a better place", but that seemed insincere and over the top. It’s on the list, by the way. It’s just invisible.
I should add that I first thought of comparing ordinary days to bubble wrap, but foam peanuts seemed to work better. Admittedly, bubble wrap is much more fun. Popping them drives some people nuts, but I thoroughly enjoy it.
Before falling asleep last night, I diligently programmed the VCR to tape Late Night with Conan O'Brien. They Might Be Giants were scheduled to perform and I didn't want to miss it. With the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning, I woke up early and rewound the tape to watch them. They played "Alphabet of Nations" from their children's CD, Here Come the ABCs. As is the case with most music for kids, the song is sticky ear candy. Once I heard it, I couldn't get it out of my head.
The alphabet of nations!
Algeria, Bulgaria, Cambodia, Dominica, Egypt, France, the Gambia
Hungary, Iran, Japan, Kazakhstan, Libya and Mongolia
Norway, Oman, Pakistan
Qatar, Russia, Suriname
Turkey, Uruguay, Vietnam
West Xylophone, Yemen, Zimbabwe
Azerbaijan, Bolivia, Canada
Australia, Belgium, Chad
Afghanistan, Brunei, China, Denmark, Ecuador
Fiji, Guatemala
Where I live, the downtown area isn't that big. It's one street, less than a half-mile long, with a police station at one end and a new community center at the other end. In between, it has a number of restaurants, a bookstore, a bike shop, a toy store, a tavern, a music shop, a music school, a barbershop, a general store, three cafes and a new tattoo parlor.
Of the three downtown cafes, I frequent the two closest to home. I'm not counting the train depot cafe since it's more closely related to a cart than a coffee shop. The third cafe resides across from the community center. It's called Jumpin' Juice & Java and offers the town's only drive-thru coffee. Today, I finally decided to stop by and try it.
While it has a drive-thru window, it also has a large indoor sitting space, which is clean and well lit. Display cases, full of coffee-related merchandise, separate the counter from the seating area. There is a ceiling-high bookcase filled with old books, a couple of couches and plenty of tables and chairs, similar to those found in the typical family restaurant. In fact, the place looks like what you would get if Starbucks and Bakers Square were to hook up and have an offspring (think Conan O'Brien's If They Mated, but for food chains).
The menu offers the usual selection of sandwiches, salads and soups. It has an assortment of espresso drinks and juices of the jamba variety. The company claims to have "the hippest drinks on earth" and while I can't vouch for that, it does have espresso concoctions named Almond Joy, Milky Way and Snickers, which is pretty sweet. Prices are comparable to the prices of the average cafe.
I ordered a sixteen-ounce Snickers, which is mocha mixed with caramel and peanut butter (syrup, I'm guessing and hoping). It's a drink that tastes funny after a sip, but grows on you. I'll have to try the Milky Way next time.
Overall, the service was decent. The guy behind the counter was as friendly and alert as any normal person would be expected to be before seven in the morning. While I only stayed for about fifteen minutes (I had a train to catch), the atmosphere was pleasant enough. The place is definitely worth a return visit.
Over the weekend, I saw House of Flying Daggers. Zhang Yimou co-wrote and directed the movie. As with Hero, his previous film, he infuses this one with bold colors and breathtaking scenes.
His movies are like art galleries, where actors occupy paintings instead of sets. The story progresses from one visual masterpiece to the next. Daggers showcases the four seasons. The film begins with a spring-colored pavilion, travels to a brilliant green bamboo forest, rushes across an autumnal plain and concludes on a snow-covered field (thanks to a freak blizzard).
Despite what felt like overacting, I liked the three leads, especially Andy Lau and Takeshi Kaneshiro. The action, music and choreography were exciting throughout the movie, but the story was often convoluted. The writers seemed to gloss over logic to achieve certain plot twists and betrayals. Still, its strengths more than make up for its flaws, and while I didn't enjoy it as much as Hero, I'd happily see it again.
- Amazing Grace: Jeff Buckley - I recently saw Gigantic: A Tale of Two Johns, a great documentary about They Might Be Giants. It blended interviews, live performances and music videos to tell a story about the men and their music. By the way, they'll be on Conan O'Brien this coming Tuesday. For a while now, I've heard reverent whispers about Jeff Buckley and want to see his story and hear his music.
- Chlorox, Ammonia and Coffee! - With a large ensemble of odd characters and interwining storylines, this Norwegian film sounds like it could be smart, funny and poignant. Plus, I refuse to believe that any movie with coffee in the title can be bad.
- Passages - This one sounds like it could be an intriguing coming of age tale set against the backdrop of mainland China. It'll be a nice appetizer just as the San Francisco International Asian American Film Festival (SFIAAFF) begins (March 10-20)
- The Search for the Captain - A former mayor's daughter made this movie about a controversial statue in San Jose that finally saw the light of day (three years ago) after sitting in an Oakland warehouse for over a decade. It looks like it could be an interesting lesson in local history, culture and politics.
- Tales of Intransigence - How does one tell an old story, but make it feel fresh? What makes a story compelling? This is a film about storytelling and there's something extremely appealing about that. It also contains a horse-drawn sleigh and a bright red minibus, two promising signs in my book.
March is all about movie madness, but with a little preparation, there can be a method to the madness. Now I need to check out what films SFIAAFF is showing.
Yesterday, Major League Baseball Commissioner, Bud Selig, announced that San Francisco will host the 2007 All-Star Game. That seems like ages from now, but I'm still excited. If I had a list of things to do before leaving the planet, attending an All-Star Game would be on it, ranking somewhere below attending a World Series game or an Olympic event. I wonder how difficult or expensive it would be to obtain tickets.
Also yesterday, San Jose's mayor announced that he would bring a professional baseball team to downtown. While exciting news, it isn't the first time the South Bay has pursued a Major League franchise. Although nobody said it explicitly, everybody knows that San Jose hopes to lure the Athletics away from Oakland.
How much will it cost? Where would a stadium go? How would it affect the environment and traffic? How real is this latest attempt? Can the city make it happen this time? There are so many questions. Now it's a matter of waiting to see if the mayor addresses these concerns with his first pass at a serious proposal.
I hope my hometown gets a big league baseball team someday. At the same time, I just don't want to be too optimistic, only to see my hopes dashed again.
Happy Lunar New Year!
As everybody knows, it’s good luck to hug a rooster, this year's animal. It’s even better luck to survive the tender embrace unscathed. Just be thankful it isn't the year of the tiger or dragon yet.
To add a unique flair to this year’s festivities, I plan on eating a bowl of Kellogg’s Corn Flakes (Corneleius!) while watching classic Looney Tunes episodes of Foghorn Leghorn. I also intend to catch Chicken Run (Rocky!) on DVD. The funny film has roosters and chickens, so there’s something for everyone.
On Sunday, I watched most of Super Bowl ex ex ex eye ex (39 for non-football folks). It was the only football game I saw this season in its entirety. For the most part, the Super Bowl isn't about the football game. It's about everything before, in between and after the football game. There's the pre-game show, kickoff show, halftime show, post-game show and, of course, the multi-million-dollar commercial spots. Honestly, I would be happy if they had a pre-game halftime show, followed by a commercial-free game, followed by a game-free showcase of commercials.
This year featured the New England Patriots taking on the Philadelphia Eagles in Jacksonville, Florida. New England won their third championship in four years by a score of 24 to 21. The two preceding sentences were boring, but I know I'll appreciate them next year, as I jot down highlights from Super Bowl Extra Large.
To continue the tradition of last year's bullet points from Super Bowl 38 (ex ex ex vee eye eye eye for you football types), here are things I want to remember from Sunday's main event:- Former presidents Clinton and Bush, Sr. looking adorable in their matching blue suits.
- Philadelphia's Westbrook and Pinkston and New England's Dillon and Faulk for reasons I won't remember in another month.
- McNabb throwing multiple interceptions and Brady fumbling a play-action fake.
- Paul McCartney's safe, but unremarkable halftime show of four songs: "Drive My Car", "Get Back", "Live and Let Die" and "Hey Jude".
- Three challenges to referee calls leading to three reversals (2 Eagles, 1 Patriots).
- T.O. proving his critics wrong with some amazing plays.
- Careerbuilder.com's chimpanzee commercials, a series of three spots featuring a lone human employee trying to survive in a corporation owned and operated by chimps.
- Brady to Branch (again and again) and Brady to Vrabel for a Super Bowl touchdown, two years in a row.
- Philadelphia's last dawdled drive, down by ten, with less than five minutes remaining in the fourth quarter. They took their time like a team unaware they were losing or unconcerned with winning.
- Ameriquest's "don't judge too quickly" commercials. Both were hilarious. One featured a convenience store clerk and his wife wrongly beating a man after mistakenly thinking his cell phone conversation was a robbery threat. The less violent spot featured a guy preparing a pasta dinner for his girlfriend before she gets home. While he's busy dicing ingredients, her white cat jumps onto the stove, knocking itself and a pot of sauce to the floor. The girlfriend comes home just as the guy is lifting the red-stained cat from the mess with one hand, unknowingly still holding the huge cutting knife with the other.
For some of us, red envelopes will take on a special significance next week. Likely, for those giving rather than receiving, it will take on an unpleasant financial significance. This may be another reason why some folks start avoiding their single friends once they're married. For a few of us, red envelopes are significant all year around, especially the ones measuring eight inches by six inches and containing loads of cash DVDs.
Whenever a red envelope appears in my mailbox, I do a little dance of joy. Whenever two arrive, I bust out some John Travolta. Goodness knows what moves I'd attempt if three were to show up simultaneously. I can only hope they would make Ellen DeGeneres proud.
There's nothing like the excitement of opening a red envelope. It has become one of my favorite rituals, on par with eating Skittles in the proper color sequence (yellow, green, purple, orange and red). I tear along one perforated edge and then along the perforated flap, careful not to rip it since it happens to be part of the return envelope (ingenious!). I gently peel back the round sticker to detach the "Tell a Friend!" slip, but never tell any friends.
Then comes the big moment, the moment that answers the question, "What film is inside?" There is a dramatic pause and a silent drum roll. The tension mounts. It's like waiting for Harrison Ford to announce the Oscar for Best Picture. With a rush of exhilaration, I tug the DVD jacket from the pocket and read the title, which often comes as a surprise, a result of queuing films months in advance.
Watching the movie is usually quite entertaining, but passive and boring by comparison. The thrill happens in front of the mailbox, not the television. Anticipation only begins to rebuild as the credit sequence rolls. I place the DVD back in its sleeve, which I insert upright into the return envelope. With everything sealed, I send it off, knowing that another red envelope of happiness will soon be on its way.
As a kid, before I ever read about Sherlock Holmes or Hercules Poirot, I read about Leroy Brown. He was a fifth-grader who would solve mysteries in Idaville and take any case for twenty-five cents a day, no case too small. Slap a quarter on the gas can and Encyclopedia Brown was on it. As far as I can remember, he solved every case, so it was money well spent. Those were some of my favorite childhood books.
The new California quarter debuted on Monday. John Muir, the California condor and Yosemite are our state's monetary representatives. The governor officially selected the design many months ago, but I'm stoked that the coin is finally available. I can't wait to hold one in my hand. I know it's only money and twenty-five cents at that, but it would be enough to pay Encyclopedia Brown and that's nothing to sneeze at.
This morning began, unofficially, with a hurried cup of coffee and the smell of mushrooms. It had the beginnings of a bad day.
I stood at the bus stop and tried to drink my hot coffee as quickly as possible. Beverages aren't allowed aboard buses and the bus was scheduled to arrive at any moment. With the lid off, I hoped the exposure would cool the liquid to a drinkable temperature.
The coffee was a dark roast, not as good as the vanilla macadamia nut kona I had the morning before, but still delicious. I found myself rather annoyed at having to rush through it.
Two minutes later, the bus appeared at the bend in the road, a quarter-mile away. I swore mildly and contemplated chugging down the coffee, but something told me I might regret that desperate act with every swallow that followed. As the bus pulled up, I took one last gulp and tossed the half-full (or half-empty) cup into the trash receptacle.
The doors opened and a grinning bus driver greeted me with, "Good morning!" I gave him a weak smile and showed him my pass. He nodded, pressed a button with one gloved hand and raised something to his lips with the other. It was a cup, a cup with a steaming coffee mug logo on it. Then, right before my eyes, the driver did something unspeakable. He took a sip.
I wanted to point and shout (or state in a stern voice), "That's not fair!" But I contained myself, found a seat near the back of the bus and silently stewed. To calm down, I gazed out the window and thought of my coffee, fondly recalling the precious seconds of joy we had shared.
Outside, it was still early morning. It was so early that the morning light looked like it was barely awake and hadn't bothered to comb its hair before showing up for work. It's amazing to see the world change from night to day in a matter of minutes. Granted, you have to wait for the right matter of minutes, but seeing the sunrise is worth the wait. For a short while, the eastern hills were silhouetted, as the black sky became a brilliant shade of blue.
The bus traveled on. Housing developments became open fields. Asphalt and concrete gave way to soil and grass, as though the landscape was slipping into something more comfortable. The smell of mushrooms, from the surrounding farms, seeped into the vehicle through hidden vents and window cracks. It was suddenly difficult to imagine anything without mushroom flavoring, including coffee, especially the driver's coffee, still a sore subject even as I stepped off the bus and boarded the light rail.
I'm now sitting at a cafe, a block away from work, drinking what I’m calling my first "official" cup of coffee. I’m taking my time with this one. Coffee was meant to be enjoyed with slow sips and without hints of mushroom.
Today is Wednesday, the second day of February, one week away from the Year of the Rooster. It also happens to be Groundhog Day, so there may be a chance we’ll all be repeating this day a few more times, which might not be such a bad thing. With respect to coffee, I could use a do over or two.
