Part Deux

Upon returning from the city, I watched the Oscars for a little while. I was really disappointed that Brokeback Mountain didn't win for Best Picture. After months of seeing mediocre movies, I remember feeling that this film raised the bar; it was so fully of poetry, striking personal chords right and left. I read that some people were so moved that they raised money to create an advertisement thanking the makers. Despite all the criticism, from either conservatives or film critics, I'm glad that cinema is still capable of prompting people to feel and to act. If Brokeback Mountain inspired a few hundred men and women to pool their resources and make a public announcement of their gratitude, it speaks so amazingly of the fact that we're still moved by what we see, that we're able to celebrate a work of art that makes poetry out of even the saddest failings in human society.

Later that week, Christoph made a presentation of his documentary in China. It is, winningly enough, called "Hello, China." According to what I've gleaned, he spent about 2 weeks last summer visiting his friend Alan and traveling all over the country, filming both the facts and their impressions of local music. He then spent all of February working intensively on the documentary, searching for a narrative and consulting about a thousand people.

Alan flew in for about 2 days to make the presentation. He's a cool guy -- one of Christoph's oldest friends. He's an aspiring actor in California, and I was thoroughly amused by him because of the performative quality in his everyday behavior. When I first watched Alan in the documentary, I was a little thrown by his air of assumption and authority, which I guess was essentially indicative of an ease with being on screen (which I utterly lack). Meeting him in person put a lot of it into perspective.

You know how in "Camera Lucida" Barthes talks about how his mother lent herself to the photographer? He said that she put herself in front of the lens with discretion -- and that this was a major moment of actualization for both of them. 'She did not struggle with her image.' I guess it's something I admire in others, this ability to be photographed or filmed.

It seemed easier to understand Alan's demeanor when he came home, picked up a guitar, and spent the evening talking to us like an old friend. More importantly, it was good to see Christoph so happy. When friends come to visit, they make it easy to get excited about your everyday surroundings and routines.

That same week, I went to a local art exhibit created by a colleague from the Press and Carol A., a superwoman in multiple Humanities disciplines. They had collaborated over a series of photographs called "Bodies of Water," hosted by the Women's and Gender Studies dept. This should really have tipped me off -- any event patronized by the W&G studies folks and involving the word 'body' is bound to be...well, interesting. I turned up out of curiosity, and boy, was it worth it.

Strung over a tiny department lobby were a series of colour images, interspersed with quotations from Hamlet and The Waves, all of which featured my colleague (SS) bare-breasted in a pond. There were, dear reader, seasonal motifs: SS and her bosom in the water amidst fallen leaves, SS and her bosom in the water by frosted briars, SS and her bosom in water covered by pond scum. You can't exhaust those analogies to Ophelia, can you?

I was, however, very impressed that she had made an announcement at work about the exhibit, encouraging us all to go...with the result that I ran into about 5 other awestruck co-workers who fiddled with "mushroom bundle" appetizers and delivered vague mumblings about "colour, cold weather, and artistic courage." What an enjoyable experience!

The next night I saw a local performance of Wagner's "Die Walküre" by the PU Orchestra, which was really nice. Jeremy, Bob, and I were a trifle mesmerized by the vocalists, being that we were strategically stationed in the second row, pretty much under the vibrating chins of Siegmund, Sieglinde, and the ominous Hunding. Opera singers are, I'm sure, a lively crowd, but it was a bit much for me to swallow the fact that the leads (incestuous siblings, no less) were essentially an obese woman and a man separated at birth from Fabio. Yes, they were talented, but yes, it was terribly comical.

I then went out for drinks and had a charming conversation with Scott and Isabelle, Jeremy's married couple friends. I really liked them. Scott's getting his PhD in English Lit and Isabelle runs a small gallery in a nearby neighbourhood. They had a very brief civil marriage last year, but are holding the real wedding celebration in Barcelona this summer (where Isabelle grew up). And by "real wedding celebration" I mean "extended and crazy party." Scott is funny and Isabelle sweet; I wish I could get to know them a little better. Of course this has nothing to do with the fact that I'd take any excuse to go to Spain. I then went home and spent the rest of the evening and early morning drinking Prosecco, toasting my housemates, and talking a great deal. It was a livelier evening than I've had in a while.

So that's my lengthy update on the past few weeks. This weekend was great; I did absolutely nothing except clean my room, watch movies ("Capote" with Vanessa - go see it, Philip Seymour Hoffman was brilliant and captivating) and TV, go to a rummage sale, and cook real meals. I think I finally felt like I was getting a part of my life back after all the traveling. It was actually nice to just hang out in Princeton and to feel that for once it really is a home. I love our garden, the afternoon sunlight in my bedroom, when Balu comes over and purrs beguilingly, when my housemates enter a room and say hello. This weekend there was finally time to wander and daydream about spring blossoms and other happy, pink-budded things. I'll leave it there.

Overdue Part I

Yesterday I returned late in the evening from the APS conference in Baltimore, MD. Physicists are an odd bunch. They don't wear deodorant, they lean a little too close to you, and yet, they're oddly formal and intellectually austere. I'm a little in awe of people who earn their keep by working purely in theory. Sure, applied physics is a different field, but physicists - perhaps even more than my humanities kinsmen - really dwell in their heads.

My boss and I went to an amazing restaurant - The Helmand - in the Mount Vernon district of Baltimore. We walked passed historical landmarks, a cheesy equestrian statue, cobblestone streets, and delightful little restaurants that packed great food and ambiance. The Helmand was apparently opened by the president of Afghanistan's brother. The jovial waitstaff, mass of exposed brick and painted murals, and soothing primrose lighting were a tonic to strained nerves. Book publishing people like to drink, which is a big bonus in my mind, since the 8 of us drove through about 7 bottles of red wine - Pinot Noir and Syrah - over the course of the meal. And Afghan food is really close to Lebanese food, which is one of my all-time favourite cuisines. It's incredibly simple and elegant, but the spices are so cleverly combined that even the most plain vegetable dish becomes memorable. It reminded me a lot of when I went to stay with Raya and her family in Vaucresson, on the occasional weekend when I lived in Paris. Her mother put together the most beautiful but simple table: delicate spices, good company. I hope my home someday looks like that.

Ingrid and I finished off our meal by sharing vanilla ice cream flavoured with cardamom and served with mangoes and dates. I feel lusty just thinking about it. It's terrible to romanticize these things, but minus the conversation (which was very book-centric, and involved lots of juicy insider commentary on publishing and US vs. UK offices), I began thinking of the bedouin dining experience - eating off large brass platters with one's hands, piling vegetables onto flatbread, sharing food with one's neighbours. I've always been easily seduced by that sort of thing. Plus I look great in sequins.

One of the nice things about attending conferences is that they enable me to get to know both the books and my bosses much better. And I've never come out of a conference disliking either -- the more I learn about the booklist, and the more I interact with my editors, the more I appreciate the larger value of what we do, and the personal charm and kindness of those with whom I work. It sounds cheesy to say all this, but after driving back for almost 3 hours with Ingrid, I felt more open to her. And although we won't always recreate that chumminess in the office, it makes the daily rigour a little easier to know that you have a personal as well as professional rapport with your supervisors.

I've been really remiss about blogging, so there's a lot of backpedaling I need to do. I saw Lina for brunch about 2 weeks ago, which was great! We met up with Chris - who I hadn't seen in months - and went to Cafe Orlin at St. Mark's Place for brunch. I also went home to CT for a night, saw a musical with my parents, and helped Vanessa vacate her ex-boyfriend's office out of which she was working.

The latter was rather emotionally charged. As one of Vanessa's friends noted, women occupy men's spaces to such a great extent...oftentimes, when the relationship ends, a woman's departure empties the man's life of a huge physical presence. Anthony owned and worked out of a large studio for years, but even after only 8 months of cohabitation, Vanessa's breakup made bare his entire space. I tried to imagine what he would feel when he came in the next morning to work with his clients and discovered the vacant rooms. I imagined his stomache dropping, and a sudden psychological barrenness in response to his surroundings.

Ending a relationship is intense - in terms of what you leave behind, what you take away with you, and what you confront moving ahead. Seeing Vanessa go through this stuff makes me realize that breaking up is like undergoing a death in your immediate family. Everything changes - and your everday life has to start a new cycle. Even for the casual observer (and am I ever really casual?), the emotions in the air were heavy. We essentially moved Vanessa out of Manhattan and into a real life in Princeton.

At the risk of sounding like Carrie Bradshaw (someone I never like to channel), all of this makes me wonder about what it means to travel light. I've always been a big fan of bearing your life around you in the most streamlined means possible - a few letters and photos, a well-worn book of poetry, and a head and heart full of memories, quotes, theories, and expectations. I guess that after all the moving around, it makes more sense to me - and seems safer, even - that identity would be something you sustained in your mind rather than something that you constructed in the objects around you. Call it cowardice or self-protection. Juxtaposed with visions of legs entwined and trusting eyes are images of untidy beds and conversations that end in a stalemate. Can you possibly want this to be part of your life?

And yet, how giddy and gleeful to be with someone else...to wear an incipient smile every moment...to have experiences that belong as much to him or her as to you. I don't know how "together" travels light, but I'm hoping I'll soon learn. And there's my bid for optimism, dear reader...

Anchors Aweigh!

I'm not much for lengthy posts, being a modest and softspoken creature, but I just have to make note of this glorious moment...and say hurrah! I'm going to Japan! Of course, this isn't for another 2 months, but still, it's settled! I have a ticket! I have dates! I have canceled going to a work-related event in New York for this trip! My parents know! I have to start saving money! I have written to Katy! She wrote back! I have accommodation! I'm lifting weights for when we climb Mount Fuji! I'm eating cucumber roll (which apparently is less than prevalent in Japan itself, but whatever) like it's going out of style! I must practice my docile smile! I wear flats so no one can be overly intimidated by my stature! I plan to answer the phone today with "Konichiwa!" I caught myself saying "Engrish" yesterday!

And after letting go of all those cultural slurs...I'm really happy this is happening. I make so many plans in my head that never come to fruition, and I've been pining to take a real holiday for months now. I have vacation time. I love to travel. I've never been to Japan, and probably wouldn't enjoy it if I turned up on my own. Katy is there and I haven't seen her since last June. I'm hugely overdue for a big international trip.

Hurrah! I'm going to the Far East! I'm like that wretch Lieutenant Pinkerton in Madama Butterfly, off to reap the joys of the Orient! (sorry, I can't help but merge my joy with bad taste; it's just an innate characteristic). And that really is a miserable opera. But I do enjoy the idea of likening myself to a sailor who roams the world in search of pleasure. "Dovunque al Mondo," as the area goes -- he knew what was what...

Don't Hold Back

For once in my life, I have almost nothing to say. Work is busy, I'm exhausted in the evenings, and everything in my life seems to be at "go! go! go!" It's a bit stressful, and I'm sort of ready for a break. The irony is that the moment I have a quiet weekend to myself, I start to feel like the world is passing me by. So much for striking a balance. This post isn't really going to achieve anything; mostly I figured I'd raise a finger so as to indicate that I'm still alive.

Current music? "Galvanize" by The Chemical Brothers. The lyrics go something like,

"Don't hold back...
Cause you woke up in the morning, with the mission to to move, so I make it harder...
Don't hold back...
World, the time has come to...
Push the button...
Galvanize...

Now that they're written out here, I see how stupid they are. I guess the only thing to do is laugh - a lot. I've moved from reading Aristotle to bopping my head along to phrases like "get involved with the jam, hot chick." At least I haven't lost the ability to know when I'm being absurd. I keep it real. I laugh. I galvanize.