night owl

shell, iteration 1

Poor lighting, shadows could use some work

Owl

Quick sketch, 11/29/10

Owl 1

A good costume

I've never had a good Halloween costume. In middle school, Carissa was a pirate. Then I was a weak pirate for a few years, minus the patch, messed up teeth and grime. It was a store-bought costume made of cheap material and it didn't keep you warm at all. At the time, I admired the kids who could make their own creative costumes.

A few years ago, Jenny and I pseudo-dressed up and went trick or treating (well past the age where that was acceptable but no one can tell). We wore homemade masks and attempted to put together something that was slightly lame, as one woman answered the door and asked what I was. (By the way, I don't think this was a big deal or any of her business. I landed on her doorstep and she'd better shell out the candy. My half-hearted effort was still worth a few handfuls.) Like many holidays that our family celebrates, there isn't a whole lot of meaning behind it: On Halloween, it was all about how much good candy you could get; Thanksgiving was about how good the turkey/stuffing was; and Christmas about how good your presents were or how many you got.

Now, the costumes for teens and girls have become nothing more than a few pieces of cloth and baring as much skin as you can (princess, occupations of different sorts, Amazon woman...) As an "adult," I haven't had a chance to break out the creative juices, and it doesn't matter much. It will be nice to experience the holiday from a kid's perspective ... so for now, I must live vicariously through Ryan.

Movies: Great sleep inducers

I really can't help falling asleep to movies these days, especially if the hour goes past 10 or I'm watching something between 2 and 4 on weekends. I think, "I'll just rest my eyes," but then inevitably I open them again and have missed a exciting part. Sigh. Perhaps it all began freshman year in Cinema class, where we watched movies at night and there was little talking. Here's just a sample that have fallen by the sleepy wayside. *Asterik denotes in the theatre.

1. Robots*
2. Midsomer Life
3. A Serious Man
4. Da Vinci Code*
5. Million Dollar Baby*
6. Ran
7. Castle in the Sky
8. Aviator
9. Body of Lies
10. Life Aquatic
11. Kung Fu Panda
12. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (Johnny Depp version)
13. Metropolis
14. Shrek the Third
15. Pineapple Express
16. Up
17. Coraline
18. Shop Girl
19. Citizen Kane

... those are all that I remember right now. To be continued.

Bring the water, rain or shine

When I hear the soft, incessant sound of the water sprinklers rising from the grass (promptly before sunrise and in the evening after the sun goes down), a feeling of anger bubbles up along with it. The water hits the wooden garbage enclosure to the garbage bins, which will likely rot in no time, the pavement and streets and of course, the grass that is always green.

It's another example of the unnoticed or uncared about waste. I wish there was something like the water police, who would come a-knocking at the association president's door (let's call him Harold). In response to my queries, Harold said he was "looking into it" and that the landscapers have assured him that the sprinklers have moisture sensors. Hmm..then why were the sprinklers on again after thunderstorms hit the area and there was rain for several days last week? To my last innocent e-mail, I received no response.

The association with Harold at the head imposes rules for the development: the right way to recycle and discard garbage (many of our middle-class neighbors can't follow instructions) and rein in rambunctious kids. But who's monitoring this water business?

I'll stop now, as there are many more important issues to think about. But the waste, oh the waste.

"Call me"

Talking on the phone is overrated (though now I'm a little more OK with it and there are a handful of people that I enjoy hearing from, whereas before, hate may have been accurate). There's something about not seeing someone's face and holding something to your ear that's not appetizing.

And why are people always saying, "Call me"? Why don't you call me? Or better yet, e-mail me what you want to discuss and we can correspond at our convenience. Receiving a Call me is another thing to remember to have to do, lest you hurt the other party's feelings by accidentally (or not) forgetting to pick up the phone.

It would also be nice if people could refrain from leaving voicemails or e-mails that read, "I have something to tell you." Why not just say or write what you want to tell me? These types of messages would be better reserved for serious occasions like a death or accident that really warrants a conversation. Some would argue that things get lost in translation and it's "easier" to get a point across with words. That is true sometimes, but misunderstandings can happen at any point, especially since the coveted "excellent verbal communication" bit has bypassed many a folk, including myself.

Let's talk about it.

Subway walking

Tired and wet, I walked through the subway today, in the midst of Monday morning rush hour. Everyone was intent to reach their destination, to escape the stifled air below.

I felt myself shutting down senses and the masses became a blur but the bodies moving in slow motion. Some people were intent to keep their heads down, iPods in their ears, skinny jeans pasted to their legs, scarf thrown carelessly around their necks, a stony expression on their faces. Less will look you in the eye, and when they do, I was still surprised that they seem like they're really looking, seeing, assessing. Others wear a vacant, cool look in their eyes, artfully donning the city "personality" as if they don't care, and maybe they don't. Or they're just used to the stares and probes and find this an easier way to maneuver through the streets. When I'm alone, I, too, am like them, wearing a mask that's necessary to deal with the assault on the senses. These people are anonymous, original, commonplace, pawns.