monoceros blogsOkay, so the whole world now knows that ROTK has been nomiated for eleven Oscars. Naturally, I hope they win. They certainly deserve Best Score, Best Song, Best Director, Best Picture and I think Best Costume (oh, they deserve all of them) because few films' costumes have captivated me so. Arwen and Eowyn and Galadriel are real fashionistas. The other movies with beautiful period or otherworldly costumes - Wings Of The Dove, Titanic, and Attack Of The Clones (and there are sites to study these movie costumes). Perhaps I should have done this costume business in another post. I easily get sidetracked.
I actually meant to put up a link to this hilarious article on introducing modern techonology into Middle-Earth. It's by a Live Journal user called Molly J. Ringwraith who has quite a large following. Her writing is excellent and very, very witty. I recommend visiting her site and following her recommendations, particularly a Theresa Green of fanfiction.net, who has written a slew of owner guides to various Middle-Earth characters. Anyway, go here to read about how text messaging or SMSes could be really useful in Middle-Earth.
From the list, my favorite is number 5:
Cell phone call from Theoden to Eomer: "Yeah, we need you to turn around and come meet us at Helm's Deep. Right now. Oh, and bring the tank."
Oh, and possibly number 9:
Text message from Gandalf to Frodo: "It's OK, I'm alive. U guys in Mordor yet?"
Plenty of funnies on Molly Ringwraith's weblog. This one is good. It's a condensed parody version of ROTK. The first exchange had me aching from laughter (that I hope my neighbors don't hear). Please read here.
Like many bloggers and LOTR fans, Molly wanted to have more people read her posts and also to appear on Theonering.net. Well, she got her wish with this recent entry. Read her delight here. The content is so very good, and very apt after the Academy snubbed the LOTR actors, eleven nominations but no acting ones.
Lin Kiat gave me this book for Christmas last year. Since I am fairly enthusiastic about Elizabeth Peters' Amelia Peabody series, the AP Compendium is a wonderful addition to my collection. It contains lovely sections on Egypt and the characters in the books.
Of late, I've been occupying myself with the books I've to read for my imitation class this semester. We're reading some great classics, and doing writing exercises based on the styles of the studied writers. After reading Hemingway's "A Farewell To Arms," I wrote a page or so in his style describing my experience arriving in the Detroit airport very ill and having my picture and fingerprints taken for the new database that the US is hoping will catch terrorists when they enter the country. I imagine the database contains some 95% or so of terrible-looking passengers. After a day's travel and in great need of a shower and some sleep, I bet I could have looked the part of a terrorist myself.
This weekend, I'm reading Ford Maddox Ford's "The Good Soldier." Someone once remarked that this poor author had parents giving him the same first name as his last. Ford actually had his last name switched, for reasons unknown to me. At least he wasn't called Oldsmobile Maddox Oldsmobile, as my professor put it. Ford, I recall, was the one who made D.H. Lawrence famous. He had read the first paragraph of "The Odour of Chrysanthemums" and instinctively knew that he had in his hands the work of a genius and set about publishing the story in the journal of which he was editor. He also was a friend and collaborator of Joseph Conrad.
"The Good Soldier" is a difficult but engaging novel. The story is told by an arguably untrustworthy narrator and one of the key points in the tale is how you can never really tell a person's true character.
"For who in this world can give anyone a character? Who in this world knows anything of any other heart - or of his own? I don't mean to say that one cannot form an average estimate of the way a person will behave. But one cannot be certain of the way any man will behave in every case - and until one can do that a 'character' is of no use to anyone."
There was a winter storm warning for most of Tuesday, till early morning on Wednesday. I took the bus to school on Tuesday, and was very glad I did. The roads were layered with slush and ice. I'd left early, but my timing was off, and the bus was at the junction, ready to turn towards the bus-stop, and I still had a ways to go. I started running and the bus driver caught sight of me. Instead of ignoring me (which I've experienced before), he waved me over, indicating that he'd wait for me and let me get on at the junction. I thanked him profusely, and he said, "Today's a crazy day." Indeed it was. I spent the whole morning and afternoon in school so I wouldn't have to take the bus twice (I had one morning class and a three-hour evening workshop). I had barley soup and a bagel for lunch (a very hearty meal) and then battled the roads and snowbanks to reach the computing site. I was very grateful for my Saloman hiking boots (Goretex is the best!), which Lin Kiat had brought over for me, because my toes never once felt the cold. They also have great traction on snow.
I rode the bus again this morning. The skies shone out blue and bright with winter sunshine. The undulating snowscapes and pine trees with their snow-laden tips actually made me smile. I could see the beauty in winter still. I walked towards the bus-stop with an unexpected joy enveloping my spirit.
In the afternoon, I had to get some groceries, which meant unearthing (or un-snowing) my car. There were four inches of snow on the roof and hood. Below, a thick layer of ice had formed over the windows. I spent twenty minutes in the car park warming up the car, scraping at the windows, trying hard to break the ice layer and sweeping the snow off the car. The one consolation was the blue sky and my realization that the days are no longer ending at five p.m. The light hadn't faded, it was going to stay a little longer, and I was heartened by such a small thing.
Over the years, I've built up quite a repertoire of shower songs. I recently noticed that a large number of songs in the collection involve the moon or have some mention of the moon. These include:
In The Moonlight (sung by Sting on the OST of Sabrina)
Brazil ("...we stood beneath an amber moon...")
Moon River
I'll Be Seeing You ("...I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you.")
The Moon's A Harsh Mistress
These are the only titles that come to mind now, if only because they're on the current singing list. Looking at these songs, it also occurs to me how ballad-like these five are. I mean "ballad" in the original sense, a song that tells a tale. "In The Moonlight" has no chorus, and every verse - or stanza, if you will (Sting was a Literature teacher, after all, and well-versed - oops, pun alert - in poetry) - tells something new. The song romanticizes the meeting of two strangers who spend the night together and hope that the morning will not bear away the magic they felt the night before, under the moonlight.
"Brazil" is another tale of two lovers. In Brazil, of course. The narrator, or singer, is singing in the present, recalling a love affair years ago that ended when he or she had to leave the country (after a nice vacation, I presume). On the last night, they stand beneath the moon and cling to each other. The song ends with a promise to return to Brazil.
Who wouldn't fall under the spell of "Moon River"? Who wouldn't conjure up the image of Holly Golightly strumming her little guitar, sitting on the window sill, and singing of going to see the world with her moon river? The theme song of "Breakfast At Tiffany's" always leaves me wistful, partly because I was an ardent admirer of George Peppard (he looked spectacular in that movie, and is now resting in peace somewhere in Michigan), and partly because I share that same love of seeing the world.
As a student in Florence, Italy, I attended a talent show (also a farewell concert) organized by my American program mates. One girl, Erin, sang a lovely rendition of that World War II song, "I'll Be Seeing You." I was very moved. Two lovers part in Paris as the young soldier has to go to the frontline, and the girl sings of how she'll find him in the morning sun, and when night comes, she'll be gazing at the moon, but will see only him. I was also sad that I'd be leaving Florence soon, and that I might not see some dear friends for a very long time.
There have been very many versions of "The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress." It was written by Jimmy Webb (former member of "America" and who wrote the songs from the animated film, "The Last Unicorn") and made famous by Judy Collins and Linda Ronstadt. Less of a story here, but the words are poetry nevertheless. Go here to see the lyrics. Jimmy Webb personifed the moon and gave her a cold, imperious air. It certainly reminds me of how we can reach for the moon (and stars) but always fall short of reaching her, thus the ultimate fascination for the wondrous orb, at least on my part.
I've gone moon-crazy today, I suppose. Rather late actually, since the lunar new year was last week. I can't really see much of the moon where I am, and also because I'm terrified of looking out the window in case I find the walkways and roads buried under snow. The apartments around mine block most of the sky, but at home in Singapore, I used to step out the house or stand on my brother's balcony and look skyward. The moon was always there, and even a few stars, gleaming quietly in spite of the city lights that threatened to stub them out.
Image by Alan Bean, former NASA astronaut
Well, I have no cable (which means no TV), but I just found out from theonering.net that LOTR has swept all four Golden Globes that they were nominated for. Just four nominations, but what nominations they were: Best Song, Best Score, Best Director and Best Dramatic Picture.
I do wish I had caught Peter Jackson's speech when he accepted the awards for Best Director and Best Picture. It seems the stage was full when the award for Best Picture was given out and plenty of folks were cheering. Rightly so.
Over the December break, I found some old photos of my first car. SOLMATE was my dear little car during my undergraduate days. Lin Kiat and I rode the Greyhound to Ohio to bring back the car. He liked to call it the Pocket Rocket, especially after one summer when he put in an after-market air filter that really made the car purr.
Lovely and black against the snow in winter
I sometimes wonder where my dear old car is today. I still have the license plate, something I used to hang on the desk partition at work to remind me of my Ann Arbor days.
Now that I'm back in Ann Arbor, I have items from Singapore to remind me of home! Like wedding pictures, the red plastic spoons you get with noodles in hawker centers, some Chinese books (and some plush toys, I must confess). I suppose when I return to Singapore, I'll have my WHTRABT license plate hanging somewhere too.
Here I am, on a Friday, doing two loads of laundry (finally changing the bedsheets! Also using the new down comforter from Christine, my sis-in-law) and trying to get a headstart on my homework. Lin Kiat left this morning, after staying three extra days in Ann Arbor.
I'm doing my best to occupy myself with chores. It's freezing, no, below freezing actually, outside.
Looks lovely, yeah? But step outside and you want to just run back in.
And to think that a month ago, I was strolling on the beach in shorts and tee.
Lin Kiat, my amazing husband, is here in Ann Arbor! He flew up to be with me on Wednesday. His arrival saved my sanity and is the very thing to get me past the awful stomach virus I returned with this winter.
On Tuesday night and Wednesday morning, Lin Kiat had not been answering my text messages, phone calls or emails, and I was worried something had happened to him. Days before, we'd been planning to have him come over in mid February. In actuality, my mom was chasing our travel agent to secure a ticket for him and he was running around getting things packed, settling issues at work before leaving, and everyone knew about the big plan except me. My mom called me to ask what things I'd like Lin Kiat to bring over in February, so she could get them now before the CNY craze takes up her time. I was a little suspicious, but didn't think twice about it.
Wednesday afternoon, Lin Kiat finally messaged me after my class ended. He said that our friend Chris would be driving over to pass me some food and some items he'd asked Chris to get for me. Chris arrived at my door later and pulled up a piece of luggage, saying, "This is for you." I said, "This is luggage." It didn't register at all. I was only thinking, "Wow, that's a lot of presents from Lin Kiat if Chris needed a suitcase to put everything in." And then, Lin Kiat walked round the corner. I nearly cried. I was so very, very happy.
For days, I'd been miserable and just not snapping out of my sad funk. I wanted to go home, I wanted to quit the program and be with my family and friends in Singapore. I really hated the winter, the cold, the loneliness. Lin Kiat's being here has helped me a lot. It's really too bad he has to leave on Tuesday. I'm terribly afraid I'll fall back into my old self-pitiying state, but I think my improved health will help me survive the worst of this winter.
For now, I'll just bask in the warmth that Lin Kiat has brought over. I'm remembering the vows we took nearly six months ago, and Lin Kiat has truly honored every word. I feel very blessed.
Thanks to everyone who expressed concern and sent their good wishes. My condition is still unstable - good at times, very low at others. I thought I'd climbed the ladder towards recovery yesterday, but I slipped a few rungs last night.
I'm in a tolerable state right now. So I thought I'd best write something while I can.
I'm suffering from a viral infection of the stomach. Caught probably on the Northwest flight from Tokyo to Detroit (it began with a fever mid-flight). The stomach activity didn't begin till I returned from my fiction workshop on Tuesday evening, the day I touched down in Ann Arbor.
I'm frightened of what I consume now. Anything wrong could push me back down the ladder again. I've been following a list of allowed foods that the doctor gave me. I think the hard-boiled egg set me back. I daren't even try Chicken Noodle soup today, in case it's got oil or fats, even though I have been craving for it. Lunch today is two pieces of white bread, boiled carrots (no seasoning at all) and tinned peaches. Beverages - Gatorade and hot water. American doctors are fond of prescribing Gatorade to replace nutrients and electrolytes lost during diarrhoea. My meal is making me gag from its lack of flavor. Oh, to be well again. And to be in good weather - as you can see, the weather pixie on the left is all bundled up. She's smiling. I'm not, though.
They say a gunshot wound to the stomach is one of the most painful ways to die. I say anything that affects the stomach leaves the sufferer struggling and begging for release.
No updates for a while. Very ill in Ann Arbor.
Sweet, sweet is the greeting of eyes,
And sweet is the voice in its greeting,
When Adieux have grown old and goodbyes
Fade away where old Time is retreating
Warm the nerve of a welcoming hand,
And earnest a Kiss on the Brow,
When we meet over sea and o'er Land
Where Furrows are new to the Plough.
~ by John Keats