L'essence de Vie

Belated Music List...

2010-07-23T16:45:00.000-05:00

Um, it only took me...3 or 4 months, but here it is!

I compiled all the songs all of you sent me into a single list on Grooveshark (the best online player ever.) I didn't discriminate! Every single song each person suggested is here (don't believe me, you say!? See for yourself scallywags!). Eenyways. Yeah, thanks everyone for sending me songs, even those of you with freakish tastes. Jk jk...I'm not one to talk.

Enjoy!

Musical Infusion
(To use this list, just click on the link and a new window will pop up with all the songs on it!)

Dairy Delights.

2010-05-27T15:24:00.001-05:00

It has to be said, I absolutely love milk. And I don't mean in a "sure, I'll have it with a bowl of cereal" kind of way. I mean it in a "I'd much rather sit and drink milk in a field all day than just about anything in this world" kind of way.

Today, I opened my family's fridge and realized that it's genetic all right. We currently have four kinds of milk at our house. You might think this is obsessive, but I prefer the term enlightened. At least it's not cactus juice (trust me, it's happened...)!

So basically, here I was sitting in my kitchen feeling that itching for a nice, cold glass of milk coming on. Imagine the overwhelming sensation that overpowered me upon discovering that I had not one, but FOUR options of creamy deliciousness to choose from! So what did I do? TASTE THEM ALL, OF COURSE!

These are my findings, ranked from best to worst and why:

1) Regular milk (2%)- I don't think I'll ever part with the classic tall, glass of white milk. I love me my cowsies.

2) Almond milk - It actually has a really good, light taste that easily drains down your being in a pleasing manner. It also has 25% vitamin D, 30% calcium, 50% vitamin E and only 8 grams of carbs per serving and 2.5 grams of fat. Not bad for milk!

3) Soy milk - I feel like most people hate it because it's the "it" substitute product right now. It actually tastes pretty good, and has 30% vitamin D, 50% vitamin B12, 30% calcium and only 11 grams of carbs and 3.5 grams of fat. Oh yeah, and 6 grams of protein! It only came in after almond milk because of the taste.

4. Rice milk - WTF. This milk has no nutritional value (unless you want to count 2% of both calcium and iron...). ALSO, I it tastes as if someone blended together cardboard and caulk and put it in a cool little square container. Nice try. It's still gross.

Anyway, I love milk-tasting. I must now carry on... enjoy!

"Karina has become a fan of..."

2010-04-05T18:35:00.002-05:00

I can't help LOVING those "become a fan of" things on facebook. I read so many that REALLY made me LOL. Instead of joining them all on facebook though, I'm going to make an ever-growing list here. Some will be in Spanish cause they're also hilarious. WORK ON YOUR SPANISH! :P

Hope you enjoy them as much as I do!:

Karina has become a fan of "You're 5 and you have a phone. Who do you talk to, Elmo?"

Karina has become a fan of "Dear Pringles, I cannot fit my hand inside your tube of deliciousness."

Karina has become a fan of "'Hey can I have a sip?''Sure.' *GLUG GLUG GLUG* 'Dude, what the hell?!'"

Karina has become a fan of "Your story doesn't add up. So feel free to stop lying."

Karina has become a fan of "'JAJAJAJAJAJAJAJA' 'WTF?' 'Dude, I'm laughing in Spanish.'"

Karina has become a fan of "Thinking of something and laughing alone."

Karina has become a fan of "'Let's eat Grandma!' or, 'Let's eat, Grandma!' Punctuation saves lives." LOLOLOLOL. As a prospective English Teacher...that's awesome.

Karina has become a fan of "Seeing someone your friend hates and saying, 'There's your best friend.'"

Karina se ha hecho fan de "Yo tambien comi pastillas de los picapiedra." FLINTSTONE VITAMINS! I still eat them :)

Karina has become a fan of "Realizing in the middle of telling your story that it isn't actually funny." This has Heather Brooks written all over it!

Karina has become a fan of "'Don't see me, don't see me, don't see me'... 'HEYYY!!!' ... "f*ck."

Karina has become a fan of "I am not a morning person. Do not pull the covers off me. I WILL KILL YOU."

Karina has become a fan of "I say 'That's crazy' after someone tells a story cuz idk what they just said." HAHAHAHA.

Karina has become a fan of "You know you're from Texas when you can get all four seasons in one week. " OHHH TEXAS!!

Karina has become a fan of "English teachers put more thought into a novel than the actual author did.. ·" THAT'S ME!!! :)

Karina has become a fan of "Aw, she has such a pretty voice!..Oh wait, that's Justin Bieber." lololol.

Karina se ha hecho fan de "Lograr hacer algo antes de que el microondas llegue a 0:00."

Karina has become a fan of "There are only two states: Texas and not Texas." YEAHHHH.

Karina has become a fan of "Saying 'Yeah I'm on my way.' When you're still at home." Sorry for everyone I've done this to!!! hahahahaha.

Karina has become a fan of "When I was your age, we had to blow on the video games to make them work." hahahahahaha. How did we all know!?

Karina se ha hecho fan de "Que cool te miras fumando, pero ya no va a ser cool cuando tengas cancer! ;)"

Karina se ha hecho fan de "Vivo en un pais donde las pizzas llegan antes que la policia." LOLOL this one's for Guatemala...it says "I live in a country where pizzas arrive faster than the police."

And of course,

Karina has become a fan of "I have nothing to do and STILL won't do my homework." = THIS BLOG. HAHA.

Out! If you have any good ones to share, let me know!

A musical plea! Read and do!

2010-03-30T13:21:00.000-05:00

Hello sentient beings!

I have a request from you. Yes, YOU. So, in an effort to reinfuse my musical selection, I got to thinking...it'd be kinda sweet to have my friends send me a list of their top five or ten favorite songs at the moment.

I'd LOVE for y'all to do this! Some of you have already been gracious enough to share your musical tastes here and there, but even if you have, do share some more!

Here are some guidelines for what to send me. The songs should:

1. Be simply awesome.
2. Be something I can drive with the windows down on a hot summer day and want nothing more than to fly to the moon (in the daytime).
3. Make me want to let my hair loose like Professor McGonagall at the Yule Ball.
4. Inspire my future doggy (I WILL have one someday!) and me to shake our tails (no tail feathers though...I don't think either of us will have feathers...)
5. NOT make me want to shoot/harm/kill anything living (unless you want to run the risk of imposing that sad fate upon yourself).
6. Possibly be in another language! All languages welcome. Including the non-verbal sort (a.k.a. instrumental only).
7. NOT be Lady Antebellum..sorry, hearing them on 10 different stations every day has evoked some kind of unwarranted, yet inexorable, repugnancy against the said artist.
8. Slower songs also welcome if they make you want to lay down in a grassy meadow and play with foxes. I'd enjoy that as well. :D
9. Have something for those lull, summer rains? Also send! I have a "Rainy days" playlist I could tack that on to.
10. Be something YOU enjoy. :) The point of this is getting to know others' musical tastes. Even if you're a complete freak and secretly listen to, Iunno, O-Town or some crap like that, send away! I will keep these confidential. Confia en mi!

Feel free to e-mail me your list, or whatever method of communication you see fit. If you'd like a list in return, I could get to thinking! I'll download the songs myself, so just a simple list is alls I'm a-askin' for!

Thank you kindly if you actually took the time to read this and actually do it! I know it's hard to not be lazy..it's a daily struggle for my post-graduate self, trust me!

Have a terrific day!

Yours truly,

Karina A. Reyes

Groovin on a Shark.

2010-03-02T22:44:00.000-06:00

Just wanted to get this out there:

If you haven't been using Grooveshark, your life is incomplete. Pandora just doesn't cut it. Want to know why?

Why should you limit yourself to skipping six songs an hour with a ridiculous of 20 skips per day, from what I've heard? If you're like me, that would drive you crazy. I mean, come on. How many songs are actually made that you want to hear all four minutes and 36 seconds of? By my count, it's at about 25 songs ever.

To me, the way you listen to music defines how you live your life. Me, for example: I listen to a song max two minutes, and it's on to see what's next! If it's the radio, I CANNOT stay on one station, even if I like the song that's on--I never know what I could be missing! So my fingers involuntarily press on all my presets to make sure. But then I get upset when I missed a good song, or just catch the ending. But how sweet the satisfaction when I get to listen to a song I love by chance.

Iunno. Just felt like writing about that. And promote Grooveshark! You can make your own playlists, or put it on random mode, Pandora-style. AND, best of all, not only can you play a song however many times your little heart desires (or skip!), you can even rewind or fast forward to your favorite parts.

You can even make little playlists to share with other people by creating a widget! (That's how I got my "Current Addictions" playlist to the right made, matching colors and all!)

Sigh. Life with the shark is good. I'm done rambling.

Life as an unemployed college graduate and miscellaneous art inspirations

2009-10-19T14:22:00.002-05:00

Yipee, unemployment and frustrations abound. But you know, despite this, I am feeling incredibly optimistic. Just another flaw in my measly human system, I'm sure.

So yeah. Today, a friend (also an unemployed Hilltopper graduate) hatched the idea to start our own personal art/design group. Our purpose? Simply to provide encouragement in this artistic drought. We are going to push ourselves to continue creating projects and look into art happenings around Houston in an effort to keep our slowly fading creative personas alive. It's so hard once you aren't required to have assignments due and are brought down daily by reminders of the impossibility of your dire financial situation and measly career prospects to continue nurturing your artistic endeavors.

However, there is no way I can let an innate part of me since I was 12 wither away. Despite it all--the questioning daily of whether I should've just majored in a technical degree or the constant querying by friends and family of just what I am dong these days--I still believe the fine arts world is vital to life.

Wish me luck!

Guatemala Documentaries, Lost Count.

2009-07-02T00:26:00.002-05:00

I haven't written in a while, and I feel substantially bad about this. Each day has been filled with so much, however, that it's been hard to center my thoughts on just one topic.

On Sunday, I moved into my new place in Antigua, Guatemala. Living here is kind of like living in a dream. It's just strange to wake up each day, walk outside only to be met by cobblestone streets, colonial architecture and a huge volcano presiding over it all.

The place I'm living at in itself is quite an adventure. I live with two girls from Canada, a girl from Taiwan and a an American. It's kind of exciting because I get to practice French, which is a huge, unexpected bonus. Not to mention, there is a Parisian-owned creperie right down the road. Oh, and did I mention a German-owned beer and German food place as our next-door-neighbors? That's not even mentioning the many, many good local restaurants and cafes littering the sidewalks every which way we turn.

On Monday, Sarah and I started volunteering at "Los Patojos," an organization that helps children and adults in the tiny village of Jocotenango improve themselves in simple ways; their focus is completely internal, meaning they don't give them material things. As the owner and founder explained, they want to empower each individual to realize their own worth, intrinsic worth obtained not through external possessions, but their own capacities and abilities.

I've already experienced and realized so much while being there so far this week that it'd be impossible to put it all in words. But today, while doing dishes duty with a jolly-green-giantish kid from Holland, I realized why I love Guatemalans so much. At some point he said, "What I love best about being here is how cheerful Guatemalans are. Even the poorest people are always smiling and so friendly to everyone."

Watching the kids run around like wild animals at the school, you can't help but feel just at peace. Today they ate a smile lunch of two pancakes each, and they were so happy and then set about running and laughing and just being silly kids. They all come from extremely poor families, but they are nevertheless some enlightening kids.

Watching the people we work with interact with the kids is also fulfilling. Our team of fellow volunteers includes three Spanish girls, one Swiss girl, one German, one Dutch and three Americans. We range in Spanish abilities from pretty basic to fluent, yet we all interact so well with one another. The kids are so lovable too and come up and hug you and start talking with you for any reason.

Sarah and I are going to develop small activities we're supposed to carry out on our own in this next week and a half. We are pretty excited!

Anyway, enough for today I suppose! I am going to explore all morning tomorrow!

Guatemala Documentaries: Part V

2009-06-16T20:03:00.001-05:00

My mother’s family, I realized today, hasn’t gotten enough credit. I went and saw them—I shamefully admit—for the first time since I’ve arrived today. As I told Sarah, I feel like the meanest person when I’m around them because they are so incredibly nice, selfless and gracious! They immediately offered us fresh, cool lemonade and prepared a fantastic grilled chicken and salad lunch. It was then followed, as is only right, by a stroll through the neighborhood for ice cream ($7.50 for six waffle cones and two cups!). We then took our first ride on the camionetas, or, the notoriously dangerous public bus system. I used to take them all the time, but they’ve become increasingly risky over the years. Hijacks and assaults on these buses are daily occurrences city-wide.

I returned to my family’s house bizarrely tired, so I took a nap and woke up in the early evening to a wonderful rain, the kind of rain that washes away all humidity and heat—leaving a cool, fresh air in its place. My aunt then taught my cousin Cindy and I how to make torrejas, one of the best desserts in the Guatemalan cuisine spread. I’m so excited I know how to make them now!!!!!!!!!! Dinner and dessert were followed by a long game of ojitos, and a scattergories-like game called basta with my cousins. I love sitting around laughing at the ridiculous things that come out of games like that.

But really, what makes this day memorable to me is the conversation I had with my cousin Cindy, who recently moved here after having grown in up the United States her whole life.

The topic I’ve become concerned with is Apathy. It’s really a scary thing—and also frustrating. If there’s any one pronounced trait that I could attribute to my family, it would be passion. Everything affects us. We are all lively, vivacious people. In my family, it’s impossible almost to grow up without a sense of the need to help others, realizing the value of truly important things and our duty to our fellow human beings.

It’s sad to realize something about Guatemalan people: Because circumstances and the quality of life and opportunities are so low, it’s like people have given up. The rich stay in their own isolated bubble of comfort, feeling no obligation to help those in need of help. In the meantime, the majority lower-class people occupy themselves only with getting by—they see no point in getting ahead because they see it as futile. It’s a horrible cycle.

My cousins were telling me that the majority of their classmates don’t care to do volunteer work, and are entirely indifferent to the sufferings of those less fortunate than them. For example, a woman came to speak to their school about the city’s basurero, or, dump. Basically, the public waste system is so inefficient here that they throw everything into an enormous ditch in the center of the city.

The truly sad thing is not seeing the awful mess, but seeing people living here. Living. In a dump.

I can’t imagine waking up each day and having nothing to look forward to than finding at least one semi-good meal in the trash.

My cousins told me that the speaker came to make them aware of the situation and ask, simply, that they separate food they throw away in plastic bags when they threw out their trash, because these people rummage through the trash and eat leftovers—regardless of what they’re lying in. One of my girl cousins told me she started crying just thinking of the awfulness of the situation—only to realize she was the only one in the audience who even looked flustered by the situation.

No one here feels like anything can improve conditions. As long as they get by and can stay out of trouble, they’re good.

I realized that in that aspect, I am extremely thankful to live in a country where people want to better our nation. We care about others—volunteer work and community service are, for many, a great part of our upbringing.

However, when I said apathy was my topic, it was because I also realized that while we as Americans do take more of an interest in continual improvement, a great majority of our population is also afflicted with apathy, just in our own way.

We don’t take concern for the rest of the world. The way I see it, we’re not that different from the higher-class Guatemalans. Because they’re comfortable with their living, they don’t concern themselves with helping those in less fortunate circumstances; we as Americans live in a world that is, in comparison to the rest of the world, so good, that we don’t feel the need to help.

But why shouldn’t we?

I just can’t imagine myself ever living the kind of life in which I pave my own path to prosperity for myself and my family, and numb myself to everything else out there.

I think what creates this extreme apathy oftentimes is fear. Or maybe guilt? When you start thinking of all the problems that others and other countries have, yeah, it’s overwhelming. When you really think about it, you start (or maybe it’s just me?) feeling guilty. Guilty that you have so much opportunity and can live every day free of fear of oppression, poverty, violence.

So isn’t it easier to just closer yourself off to all that? If you can learn how to disregard that, you can continue living your happy suburban life—the American dream. You make your comfortable living, have a prosperous family and set. That is the ideal life, isn’t it? What more could there be?

I don’t argue that people shouldn’t want this—only that they should strive to also do something, anything, to improve something in this world. Even if it’s something as small as sponsoring a child in a poor country or donating money to an organization that seems to have concrete results.

I just think it’s awful to give in to apathy. How can we ever hope to improve anything if we don’t care?

Guatemala Documentaries: Part IV

2009-06-14T20:02:00.003-05:00

We were just awoken by my cousins running in all excited—no, perhaps excitement is the wrong word. It was a combination of excitement and shock as they said, “Did y’all feel that?!”

“Whaughathght?” (That’s our sleepy ‘What?’)

“Everything was moving and shaking!”

Apparently there was a minor earthquake tremble that almost broke some dishes. They reassured us they’ve been pretty common lately though and that we have nothing to worry about. When I read about it later in the newspaper, it turns out it was a 5.2 tremor on the richter scale. Don’t know what that means, but I’ll find out later I suppose!

So then we went to church…but it turns out it was Corpus Christi day…which means all masses are put on hold until evening so the mornings are spent in elaborate processions.

So we went to a priest’s house whom with my family is good friends with for lunch. We arrived with a full Guatemalan feast in hand at around 2 p.m. and stayed until about 6 p.m. All we did was eat and talk. But what an amazing afternoon it was.

Our priest-host was a fascinating person. I still can’t get used to being introduced as “Carlos’ daughter” and always getting the, “Oh! How is your dad doing? I remember when you were really little…” But anyway, in some sense an excommunicated from the Catholic church, he is actually a Filipino priest who decided he loved Guatemala too much to leave it. So now he started a school that teaches Indigenous Guatemalan women and children and has his own coffee business and plantation to support his school.

I was astounded that he has a better Guatemalan accent than I do! But then again, as I’ve learned this trip, I have a heavy American accent and intonation. :( I am determined to return with a full Guatemalan accent by the end of July, however!

Talking with this priest, I also got to see one of my great-aunts (or something) who told us stories of my great-grandparents, where I learned for the first time that my grandfather grew up an orphan in a convent with his eight brothers and sisters. Why my parents don’t tell me these things is beyond me!

Guatemala Documentaries: Part III

2009-06-13T20:01:00.003-05:00

Today we played with peacocks—oh and I got to see the place where I’ll be buried when I die. Neat.

No, but really, it kind of was. My family is all supposed to be buried in a national cemetery that is absolutely dazzling, which is a weird thing to say about a cemetery, but it is fairly accurate. We walked around, looking at tombstones, murals and incredible architecture, all set to the backdrop of lush green mountains. Walking around putting flowers in my grandparents’ graves made for a good morning.

Then we went to a wedding. We came to the conclusion that though seemingly paradoxical, they were kind of the same thing. They’re both related to deaths. One most obviously death of close ones, the other the death of your free life. :)

This wedding was particularly peculiar to the invitees because there was no open reception after. So instead, we spent the evening ordering pizza and singing all traditional songs we could think of. Sarah and I were serenaded to an amazing set of romantic ballads (we were the only girls left by the end of the night :) ).

Oh, and the priests we ate with from the first night at some point showed up as well and joined it.

As Sarah said, “You can pretty much include the priests in any of the daily activities.”

I love my family. :)

Guatemala Documentaries: Part II

2009-06-12T19:59:00.002-05:00

If yesterday it felt like we had been here weeks, we have now progressed to months. Though an ordinary day, it was nevertheless a fascinating one. Today we went out with my aunt Thelma to get our “necessaries” taken care of. We went to a mall and bought a cell phone. I’m still amazed that I got a cell phone, even better than the ones I use in the United States for about $6, minutes and all. Granted, we only have three contacts at the moment, but it’s exciting nonetheless! And it comes with a converter for everything, from temperature in Kelvin, Fahrenheit and Celsius, to currency, to weight.

We then stopped for a quick lunch ($2 for an amazing wrap!) and a delicious latte made with three milks. I’ve decided it’s just not fair. Every part of the world I’ve been to has amazing coffee, except for us. Sad day.

We then went to exchange money, which I have never personally done in Guatemala. Mostly because I’ve always been strongly urged not to, due to the high number of assaults and robberies that happen to people coming out of banks. I don’t know if I could ever get used to having armed military officials with rifles outside of every bank entrance.

Guatemala: Day 1

2009-06-11T09:27:00.000-05:00

The first full day. And all I can say that it’s already felt like a week. Haha, and of course, “all I can say,” isn’t remotely true. There are pages upon pages I could write about what I already experienced while here.

Instead, I’ll recount only the latter half of the day. We went to drop off some of my cousins to their mother’s family’s village, Joya Onda.

It seemed a simple mission: drive the hour-long drive to drop them off with their mom, then come straight back. This is where the fact I’m in Guatemala comes into play.

First off, about nine of us piled into a utility sports vehicle that runs on diesel. After tussling our way in and out of traffic (people here are insanely frightful drivers), in which we passed dozens of small neighborhoods, all with homes teetering precariously on steep hillsides, we finally reached the small aldea, or, small village, that leads up to the even smaller rural village of Joya Onda.

The road itself was quite a voyage. Coming from Texas, it’s always nerve-wrecking to drive on steep mountainsides with life-threatening curves, where one wrong maneuver sends you sliding endlessly down the slope—most likely not survivable.

When we finally reached Miscos, the town in which we took a separate entirely-dirt-road off the main road, we were already ill at ease from the overabundant twist and turns.

About half an hour after starting our way up, the car battling against large stones and loose gravel to gain every inch upward, my aunt finally stops and demands no one in particular:

“Are we sure it’s this way?”

Everyone seemed to have a different response. “Definitely, keep going!” “This is not it.” “I don’t recognize anything at night…” “We need to turn back.”

We went on a few minutes further, when we realized there were no lights or houses, or any signs of civilization anymore. Just the dark forest and us. We turned onto another small dirt road, where we happened upon some rural farmers, broccoli in hand. One thing I love about farm folk is how simple it is to know about anyone. We asked simply for the Alvizures family, and they told us it was a few miles back.

So we backtrack. Taking what we were sure was the right road, we start all over the awful bumpy tread up. There we are, chattering away excitedly, when my aunt stops again for a second time and asks, “Are we sure this is the right way?” Another round of a discordant array of answers resulted in us all getting out of the car and starting to run in the pitch dark up the slope, because the point we were at was almost too dangerous for the car to make it up.

We finally reached a bend which one of my cousins recognized enough to deem the right road. So we run back to my aunt’s car only to realize it’s completely stuck in a muddy patch of road, filled with loose gravel. Some of the most resourceful boys found some larger stones and managed to get the car going up the slope again. When we finally reached our other aunt’s house (most of us running), we arrived huffy and puffy. After being introduced to about a thousand people whom I had apparently met at some point in my life (“You’re Carlos’ daughter! I remember when you were just a baby!”), we sat down for a dinner.

Sometime on our two-hour voyage there, the gracious Alvizures family had decided to cook us a full-course meal at 9 p.m. So we all sat down to eat a delicious meal of steak, salad and rice, all which though seemingly simplistic to the average American, were cooked in true Guatemalan fashion.

Glancing around the table of around 20 as we ate, I realized I didn’t know the latter half. Asking my aunt Thelma as discreetly as I could as we ate, she informed me that the latter half were all priests.

The most remarkable part of this was not that we were sitting at 9 p.m. with a group of priests and extended family enjoying a delicious meal high up in a remote village in some mountains, but that the priests were serving shots all around. Priests. Somehow it didn’t click. By the time we left, they were all insisting that the bottle of bone-a-fied whiskey was not out yet. However, having a long road back to the city, we gave our partings and left.

It would’ve been a nice ride back, ending immediately in a good night’s slumber. I say would’ve because as we were almost to the village of Miscos, further on down the mountain, my aunt stopped the car with an exclamatory “Ala gran mucha!” A colloquial term equivalent to “Oh my goodness, y’all,” I looked out of the front windshield, only to be met with the sight of an enormous commercial truck blocking the lanes.

After asking the truck’s driver what was going on, he simply responded, “Oh. I’m stuck.”

“Any chance you’ll be out soon?”

“No.”

“Are there any other roads leading out?”

“No. I’ve seen cars pass here though.”

“Ok…”

Luckily, a nearby stranger watching the situation came up to us and assured us that others had passed before and that he would help us get through. So on we went!

There seemed to be enough space for a small four-passenger car between the truck and the wall adjacent to it. We were in a sports utility vehicle. There was a small ditch and tons of enormous rocks, causing the car to rock onto one side from the extreme slant. With the help of the stranger, we went on. We passed near the truck so closely, that my cousin Ely had to pull in the side mirror so it wouldn’t scrape it. We also slid once or twice on the loose gravel, causing the car to surge toward the truck. How we made it past without a scratch is beyond me. At some point, I was also fearful of a stray horse that came to stand a little past the truck, blocking the road further on. But we made it through in the end.

On the way back we stopped and chatted with another aunt of mine, then finally arrived at our main house in La Florida around midnight, where we were so thankful to finally sleep. And that was our main adventure the first day.

Guatemala Pre-Documentaries: Introduction

2009-05-08T14:23:00.003-05:00

So in the coming weeks, I'm going to be venturing across borders to Guatemala--specifically, a city called Antigua and Guatemala City.

I hope to more successfully document my travels in Guatemala than when I was in France. This is my initial attempt. I don't know too specifically what I'll write about, but I figure the story unfolds itself as you go; if I try to hard to give it a focus, I think I'd lose what this trip is supposed to be about.

Roughly stated, however, I decided months ago I wanted to spend a longer time than I ever had in the country from which my entire family originated. I've traveled there since I was young, and the memories I've retained have been of nothing but gorgeous landscapes, delicious food and warm-hearted, colorful people. I always looked forward to trips with excitement.

For the first time, however, I am going in hopes of truly immersing myself in what it is my parents and family grew up in. I've never understood why they migrated here in the first place--growing up, it seemed ludicrous to leave a land of such beauty and excitement for the mundane suburban lifestyle we're now used to here.

So here goes! Karina's back-to-my-element-kinda trip. A close friend I hoodwinked into going with me and I will do a combination of traveling and volunteering in the small village of Jocotenango, located ten minutes outside of Antigua.

I'll write later on to explain the history and any interesting things that'll help explain the country known for its lakes, volcanoes, Mayan civilization and diverse culture and arts. Expect that in posts to come!

Espero que les guste!

Twitter Appeal, Round Two

2009-04-22T17:12:00.002-05:00

A few more thoughts on why I think Twitter's not all bad:

It's true--Facebook, Myspace and other social networks consume your
life. Like many other college students, I have also spent one too
many hours perusing the really quite useless information found on
these sites.

So I can see what those who denounce the up-and-coming Twitter
"microblogging" Web site mean when they describe it as "useless" or
"ridiculous."

Why do we need to know what our friends are doing every minute of the
day? Yeah, it's a little creepy.

But let's put this into perspective. Virtually any tool can be
misused. Even our most basic applications--such as a standard .edu
e-mail--can be wielded into a spam machine in mal-intentioned hands.

Facebook is a good example of this--surely the creators of this social
network did not mean for people to use it for personal revenge or the
stalkerish following of people--this is what society itself has turned
it into.

Misuse of Twitter, yes, is prevalent. I'm sure we don't care that
Joy rediscovered her passion for pb & j's or that Fred is
watching his favorite movie, "The Notebook."

What Twitter can provide us, however, is miniature updates of things
we should concern ourselves with or pertain to our life.
Subscribing to a news update can finally get rid of the ol', "I just
don't have time to keep up with current events." With one or
two-sentence updates of events, what’s the loss?

I consider Twitter a network that reflects the tendencies of our
times: a quick read of a 140-character-or-less update and you're on
your way. With technology bombarding us in every which way we turn
nowadays, Twitter is a refreshing succinct alternative.

In my experience, Twitter has also helped me more efficiently manage my time.
Being able to keep up with the people who do matter to me (and some
socially high-profile select few whose updates are worth following),
keeps me from logging onto Facebook.

I log onto Twitter, briefly see news, my friends' issues, local
business' deals for the day and done! A much better system than
logging onto Facebook to check a wall post and realizing two hours
later that I'm on picture 3,230 of a random acquaintance's tagged
photos, I’d say.

The only admonition I offer is this: Use Twitter well. Leave the
unnecessary updating of your life to Facebook and Myspace, which are,
in my belief, just means to waste time.

I also would like to stress that while Twitter can keep you informed,
it should not replace the traditional forms of information. If you
see a news story headline, click on the link that usually follows. A
superficial knowledge of an event or product you read a one-liner
about does not designate you a scholar.

Do try to use Twitter, however, to quickly navigate through new
happenings. Let is serve as a tool to pique your interest in what’s
around you—after all, what’s the point of living in a world you take
no part in? And use your new-found knowledge to “retweet” and let
others in your network in on the new dish.

Twitter, if used responsibly, can keep you and everyone in your
network properly informed—whether it be news, events or just plain fun
stuff—it’s a never-ending fountain of knowledge.

Reality old school games?

2009-04-21T23:48:00.002-05:00

I laughed forever and ever:

Pacman People.

Easter: American-Guatemalan

2009-04-14T00:06:00.007-05:00

Too much homework at the moment, but I am excited to write about my Easter!

These few pictures'll do for the present. Make of them what you will!:

Even editors have their days

2009-04-07T14:24:00.003-05:00

One of the worst--and easiest--mistakes to make as an editor is messing up a headline. I always wince when this happens. Happen, it does, though. Even the savviest of us have our days.

Determining Worth: Finding Value in Margaret Kilgallen’s Artwork

2009-04-02T18:34:00.010-05:00

by Karina Reyes

In his article, “Revision number five: Quality,” Dave Hickey argues that some art is not only valuable, but better than other art. According to him, there is definitely a difference—based on a list of qualities and series of questions one must ask of each artwork—that makes each work better or worse than others. I found his list of questions he asks himself when approaching a piece extremely helpful in helping determine what exactly is valuable. He makes a fair point in saying that price, or even likability, of a work has no direct implication on its actual worth. As he mentions, art, unlike other things in this world which are held at high value—such as rare gems or gold, which are in themselves intrinsically of value—is exclusively extrinsically valuable. It is because we apply a certain worth to art that it has value at all. And so, it is crucial to set certain standards and criteria for determining worth. Or else, the worth we apply to a certain piece is entirely arbitrary and subjective in relation to its appeal to our pathos, which is based on emotion, not logic, therefore should be used sparingly in making judgments.

Keeping this theory in mind, I would like to argue for the worth of “In the Sweet Bye & Bye,” an exhibition held at Redcat Gallery in 2005 that featured Margaret Kilgallen. Though at first glance her work is undeniably simple, there is much more that underlies her artwork than meets the eye. This is my first reason for believing her work is “good”. To me, artwork that has a full story behind it, though it may not explicitly tell it, is successful as an artwork. To intrigue the viewer enough to make them want to know more because they can sense the meaning in it, yet are not able to grasp it, is what keeps the viewer coming back to it.

Kilgallen draws influences from a wide variety of influences in her life. As a San Franciscan, she cited inspiration from local graffiti artists, finding the spontaneity and purpose behind their works as worthy of note. Being able to actually sense the presence and the touch of the artist’s hand in its own environment, for her, was a thrilling sentiment. She also took interest in and studied historical manuscripts, signs on stores, and immersed herself in history, both ancient and recent past from all different cultures. In an interview, she also mentioned studying drawings in textbooks, such as botanical ones, and adopting the flat style of these drawings.
Implementation of typography in her artwork comes from her background with texts and her background in bookmaking. Upon graduation from college, she even worked for some time at San Francisco Public Library, where she learned to restore books, letterpress and bookbinding. She also mentions in interviews being intrigued by historical works, such as fifteenth and sixteenth-century French manuscripts. She found that the random arrangement of words was a kind of surrealist poetry.

That she draws influence from such a wide variety of aspects makes her artwork valuable, in my opinion. She has a specific purpose in mind when she drafts out plans for he work. Pre-meditation, though not always a requisite to make an artwork “successful,” is in her case indispensible to the success of her work. She also had an interesting perspective on the technique behind her work. She saw anything that evidenced a personal touch as beautiful. In her own work, she used no grids or guides of any kind to make perfectly even lines. She relied only on her own steady hand, even finding the places in which a certain line wavered a little as the most charming part of the work. "Imperfect perfection" was something she craved and indulged in. She believed it the wrongness in things that made them right.

Her subject often has to do with locations. She drew many a scene of neighborhoods in San Francisco, taking pictures when walking if she found a setting that struck her as particularly interesting. This interest rose from the extreme preoccupation with various cultures she fostered. An avid anthropologist, she found the common person within cities inspiring and captivating. The graffiti found on the side of trains or random walls on buildings developed her theory that art was a means by which an artist could take a place and claim it as their own. Place was not something to be portrayed through art, but something to be claimed and transformed by it. Whenever she did a gallery or exhibition, she’d paint directly on walls, taking up huge spaces within the exhibition so that the viewer is immediately immersed and awed by the sheer magnitude of her work.

I also think her work is good because, while she has her own personal reasoning and meaning in each work produced, she also strives to connect her purposes with the audience. As I mentioned previously, graffiti artists were a major influence. This evidences her love of people and artwork not because it was featured in a high-end gallery or sold at an auction for dizzying profits, but for its reality and application in the world. Throughout her career, she steadily produced artwork in galleries, but also maintained her work as a graffiti artist herself. Few artists, I feel, are capable of balancing their values in such a manner. Many artists and art critics feel that artists, who “sell out” by immersing themselves in the capitalist realm of the world, earn demerit to their name. But Kilgallen was able to support herself as an artist while adhering to her values in producing “low” art. This unification of street, “low,” or “people” art and the high-end aspect of art is what made Kilgallen such a respectable artist though, in my opinion.

In an era in which artwork is seen more as an object you can put a price tag on than a thing valuable in itself, I think it’s crucial for an artist to put something more into their artwork than a simple motif or theme. Margaret Kilgallen seems to me an artist in the true sense. There is not a line or imagine created that does not have a purpose, history and meaning behind it. To her, art was not just for the average museum-goer. She considered her audience on a neighborhood street equally valuable. This is not to imply that she shunned typical museum audience, however. On the contrary, she hoped to merge together elements from both art worlds to bridge the gap between both audiences. And it is this that makes her work, “good.”

Google Goodies.

2009-04-01T16:10:00.001-05:00

Yet another reason I absolutely love Google and envy any being who gets to work for them.

Check it out:

Happy April Fool's, fools.

Be sure you're not logged into your Gmail to see it. And DO NOT miss the last example under the "learn more..." link. I laughed a solid five minutes.

Why precise, accurate titles are important.

2009-03-28T14:02:00.010-05:00

I love people. They make me smile daily with their silliness. Watch your wording when slandering, people.

Twitter and the like

2009-03-27T17:42:00.007-05:00

It's everywhere. I'm sure by now most every active participant of American society has at least heard the word, "twitter." I know I for one heard it everywhere--walking from class to class, from my co-workers--even in classes! It really sounds more like a bug than a Web site.

For those who aren't familiar with Twitter and its ever-expanding fanbase, this a simple breakdown--the way I see it--and why I like it.

Simply stated: Twitter is a social networking site defined as "micro-blogging." Users update what they are doing or information they'd like to share with their community in 140 characters or less via web or text messaging.

It started, from what I understand, as a simple way for a company in San Francisco to update each other on their status' on projects. Since then, its expanded, and other corporations, institutions and government-related officials began using it.

It's been used for lots of reasons, some which sound pretty neat! One non-profit used it to raise awareness and held a "Twitter" convention, spreading the word to other users.

Twitter was also used by the Israeli government to hold an open, worldwide conference addressing the Gaza conflict.

In my small world, I think it's useful for two reasons: It helps you keep connected with friends, no matter the distance, and can keep you better involved in the world around you.

For example (bear with my silly example), there is this cupcake place called Sugar Mama's that makes delectable, irresistible cupcakes. I am now "following" them on Twitter, so I get to see neat events they have. It was cool logging on the other day to see, "The weather's so nice, we're having half-off cupcakes all day. Get 'em while they last." Think of the cupcakes I would've missed out on!

It's also got practical benefits, though. I recently added a news network, and now I get one or two-line updates of news around Texas. It's super-useful because it's hard finding time to sit down and read a newspaper.

Also, it's a neat way for friends to stay in touch and share fun stuff. With so many things that keep us from seeing each other (schedules, distance, work and on and on), Twitter makes it easier to feel connected. I mean, I can see what my friend in the Netherlands is doing throughout her day!

Yeah...it sounds stalkerish, and maybe it's slightly narcisisstic, but it's good fun! There's no denying it. Also, it's more private than say, Facebook status', where everyone is forced to know every tedious detail of your life--whether they like it or not. With Twitter, only someone who wants to know what's going on with you will know.

Try it out! Follow me at twitter.com/keyrey.

Shameless name self-promotion

2009-03-25T14:13:00.004-05:00

Found a song that's titled, "Karina." Actually decent-sounding. Might grow on me. Hope it does on you as well. Enjoy

Austin Art Trends: 20 To Watch

2008-11-24T16:53:00.003-06:00

Austin Art Trends: “20 to Watch” –AMOA Exhibition
A review by Karina Reyes

In a city so widely flourishing in the arts, it is nice to see the more established institutions attempting to highlight the endeavors of its locals. The Austin Museum of Art’s “20 to Watch: New Art in Austin” features 20 artists in the Austin area that they deemed worthy of public recognition. While, undeniably, some artists are well worth the extra attention, I found some artists were less-than-presentable for such highly conspicuous exhibition space.

Upon walking in, I was immediately met with what I perceived to be a weird division in the room on the left. The obtrusive wall-like object was in actuality an artwork itself. Made by Scott Proctor, the accompanying wall plaque discussed Proctor’s hope to make the viewer think of space within the museum in new, innovating ways. I guess if one considers mild bewilderment a new perspective, Proctor accomplished his objective. It did manage to capture my attention for a full minute in contemplating why the pseudo-wall was being held up by a jack and some sort of wooden structure. Overall, however, I’d say that I read space in a way within a museum in a new way, not space itself. Thus, the artist’s mission was, in my opinion, half-accomplished.

The space directly in front when walking in, on the other hand, was occupied by an artwork that caught my attention and retained it rather well. I assumed it to be a large playhouse in the center of the space at first, but then I realized it was a giant castle-like construction. Made of what appeared to be canvas, glue and wood, the work was quite impressive upon close inspection. The artist, Ali Fitzgerald, made tremendous effort to make the detailing and outlining of figures on the structure, which as mentioned, looked like a castle, very precise. The material she worked with looks convincingly like glue, so I imagine it must have been a difficult task to make the glue oblige with such preciseness. She even took care to paint in the shadows which in the actual object would have been present. The wall plaque described the work as a three-dimensional representation of the artists’ novel dealing with the trials of a girl in a boarding school. The work is an attempt to capture, according to this description, the isolation felt by the protagonist within the story. I thought it was all in all a captivating work.

Also in this first exhibition room was the work of Baseera Khan. “She-mountains Have a Dog Breaking Up the Dirty Prayer Hands Shoved Up her Schnoz,” described as the representation of “living between cultures,” I found to do anything but make me ponder ties between cultures as I observed the sporadic blend of colors and lines. The figures were hard to make out, and the colors seemed too arbitrary to detect any pre-meditation. Perhaps this is what dear Khan was going for, however. Maybe her more instinctual strokes are what best relay her experience growing up between cultures. However, I found that her works were too esoteric for my taste. I feel an artist, if expecting to be displayed publicly, should attempt to make things at least slightly comprehensive to its audience.

The next space right past Khan’s work, houses “No. 3.1.2008” by Meggie Chou. While in this instance the artist’s goal is understandable (granted, only with the help of the wall plaque), I found that what it lacked was aesthetic appeal. I shall give the artist credit for seeking to convey the modern-day trouble of over-mechanization of our bodies, however, I do believe this is a theory that has been covered extensively in the past. Since the waves of industrialism began to take hold worldwide, artists have addressed the loss of personality attributed to the human body. I should mention, however, that Chou was not so much interpreting loss of humanity from the body as forcing the viewer to think of the body as a complex system of tubes and pumps. It did make me stop and wonder how truly wondrous it is that our bodies is made up of many, many parts, all working together to make our bodies run smoothly. So what the work lacked in visual appeal it made up for in profound realization.

The next exhibition space on the path was most likely my favorite within the entire exhibition. “Phantastic Magoria” by Rebecca Ward brought me back to my childhood, though I doubt the artist’s intention was such. With prismatic-colored rectangular shapes accompanied by similar projected shapes, the site-specific installation was a clever play on sense impressions. It seemed game-like to me in the original-Nintendo kind of way. Ward made an impressive use of the space she was given. Categorized in the exhibition’s descriptions with Proctor (wall-on-a-jack), I thought Ward made a far more favorable impression that lasted throughout the rest of the journey through the museum.

In the subsequent space, Eric Zimmerman’s works also had a lasting impression. A combination of drawings, projections and sculptures, I found Zimmerman’s work to pique my interest from the instant I walked into the space. The most intriguing aspect of the series was the drawings found in the opposite corner of the room. Though at first seemingly unplanned and drawn intuitively, it appears that the artist spends meticulous attention to detail in getting each drawing precisely the way he desires it. Indeed, when closely inspected, each stroke and mark seems to fit and flow into the next, unifying the composition in a compelling manner. In an exhibition filled with so many detail-attentiveness-lacking individuals, it was refreshing to see such work. This fine-tuning in detail also gave Zimmerman’s work a polished effect that, in contrast to others, seemed to give it a refined quality.

Matthew Rodriguez’s work in one glance obviously the antithesis of Zimmerman’s work found right across the way in the same room, was, surprisingly, pleasing. Seemingly a sheepdog wrapped up in a colorful, eccentric array of socks and blankets, I was most definitely befuddled by my positive response to this work. The description of Rodriguez’s work identifies his aim as “releasing the character of the environment,” yet, I hardly felt this was the particular goal in mind. To me, his work as a whole seemed to be more about bringing the viewer to reminisce on childhood. Rodriguez’s photographs and various mixed-media works, such as the framed furry, green monster, and especially his “Brigadier Bobobramble” sheepdog, seemed to allude to things familiar in people’s childhoods. Altogether a comfortable, reminiscent set of works. Within the exhibition, it worked rather well—in an art world increasingly preoccupied with keeping up with technology, it’s nice to see an artist reflect on the past.

I was once again thrown back into puzzlement by Buster Graybill’s “Come Along Johnny,” however. It was not an enjoyable puzzlement, either. A boat filled with charcoal-colored, plastic inner tubes hanging from the ceiling hardly qualify as an accurate representation of “natural and cultural displacement.” More than anything, I felt this artwork elicited a feeling of wariness that something would come toppling down on the viewer’s head. Hardly impressive. It was almost my least-admired artist with in the show, but was instead beat out by Jill Pangallo’s decisively creepy doll series, replete with eerie commercial music that follows one for a good few minutes.

Nancy Burson’s work of “Stereograph Viewer and Stereograph in a Surging Sea of Humanity,” on the other hand, was a successful installation, giving the viewer something on which to stop and ponder. The information guide mentions that the work has no explanation. I was at first frustrated by the lack of explanation, which is usually received with every artwork within a museum, but then I found I was glad to make my own interpretation of the work. The re-examination of the tie between science and artwork is usually an over-done topic; I felt that Burson made a successful effort at representing such a cliché theme in a captivating manner, however. It was interesting to see a photograph from the late-nineteenth century displayed in a non-traditional way.

Upon turning into the space behind me, I was very much drawn to “Re-kindling,” Shawn Smith’s large wooden sculpture found in the center of the room. Described as being constructed upon inspiration from a “generic google image” that was highly pixilated, I disregarded this description and instead focused on the object’s own craftily put together form. Each block of wood seems to have been masterfully glued, then painted onto the next. Smith evidently took greatest care to put each segment in a place that seemed to fit it well making it seem a seamless construction. This piece worked exceptionally well within the exhibition in its dealing with a highly modern concept, yet rendering it in a highly artistic manner that awes the viewer.

Xochi Solis’ large, amorphous glob “I was not seized by jealousy at all,” however, though vaguely appealing aesthetically, was somewhat disappointing upon acquiring further information on it. I did like Solis’ interesting arrangement of layers of latex, gouache, wood panel and paper, however, the artist seemed to have little reason or inspiration for his work. Though the descriptions on plaques enlighten the reader of Solis’ intention to convey heart-like forms, I have reason to believe the artist just threw on layers of materials and afterward declared them as so.

The same I found stood true for Ayson Fox’s “Try and Stop Me,” the middle book in the covers lining the walls on continuing into the next exhibition space to the left. I did like the artist’s idea of representing the book’s predominant tone and story in a visual synopsis on the cover, yet I found the work itself to be a little disappointing. Though the simplicity of the pencil lines and the clear masterful control of the pencil are impressive, I thought Fox’s series of works were not particularly astounding. Not something that would stay in the viewer’s mind, in any case.

In the next exhibition space, “Divinity Series,” by Stephanie Wagner was something at which to marvel. Upon walking up to it, I thought it was a series of very strange, overly-glazed sculptures. However, upon close speculation, I came to find the sculptures were in fact comically arranged and constructed Chihuahua-looking dogs in all sorts of poses with different objects either beneath or on them. The technique Wagner used, as described on the wall plaque, seemed impressive as well. Apparently originally constructing the sculptures with flammable materials, Wagner intends the materials to burn off in the Kiln during firing. The result is a most unusual texture surface that was all-too-hard to forego touching. Resist I did, however. The apparently-customized pedestals were a nice addition the overall effect as well. I thought her work had a nice place within the exhibition as displaying innovative ways in which to use materials. Instead of focusing on viewer perceptions or concerns with technology, Wagner made nice use of mediums in exploring boundaries.

Overall, I would definitely recommend the exhibition to anyone wishing to have any of the aforementioned feelings I had when walking through. At times awed, at times befuddled and overall bemused, I found the exhibition did leave a lasting impression. It was definitely nice and, in a certain way, comforting to see what Austin has in store for the up-and-coming art scene. This new generation of artists, if they are in fact representative of the emerging art trend in Austin, seems capable of rousing interest through careful representation of ideas.

"Then & Now" Exhibition-Austin Museum of Art

2008-10-30T15:21:00.003-05:00

Austin Museum of Art:
Modern Art. Modern Lives. Then & Now
A review by Karina Reyes

The Austin Museum of Art Exhibition of “Modern Art. Modern Lives. Then + Now” blends together a thought-provoking and interesting array of portraiture dating back from the impressionist movement.

Largely acquired from local collectors, this exhibition has an impressive array of works. It features a selection of from 19th, 20th-century and contemporary artists.

The overarching theme in the show is portraiture—yet in a non-traditional aspect. The presiding message seems to be: portraiture can be used—even in drastically different eras—as a tool to convey ideas of self, groups and current issues to the general population. As the exhibition discussion states, at any period in time “to be ‘modern’ was to be of one’s own time. But in the arts, being modern also meant pushing against the constraints of the present to envision new possibilities, especially new ways of shaping and depicting contemporary society.” Artists have long held the role of forcing society to reflect on critical issues, and it is this role that the exhibition seemed to address.

Eugene’s Delacroix Portrait of Charles de Verninac upon entering into the first section of “Then,” meets the viewer with a confrontational gaze. Painted with rich, vibrant tones, which the description claims was a bold statement in Delacroix’s time, this painting seems to capture the calm, but assured nature of his nephew.

Edouard Vuillard’s Woman in an Interior With Two Bonnard Paintings (Annette Solomon) is also an aberration from the strict guidelines to which most portraits of the eighteenth century had to conform. Standing at the side of the room, seeming almost out of place in her dark clothing contrasted against the warm yellow tones of the room, perhaps this painting is a statement on this woman’s discontent in her surroundings. The painting, as alluded by the title, may also be a statement about the woman’s relation to the artist since it is the “Two Bonnard Paintings” that is the title, not the woman’s name.

Pierre-August Renoir’s "Young Girl in a Blue Dress" (also known as Bust of a Young Woman) is no mere portrait either. Though more in the convention of a waistline-up framing and in the more formal clothing and pose, the expression on the woman’s face is different from traditional portraiture. There is a sense of other-worldliness, as if the woman thinks of something far out of the viewer’s comprehension. One’s own gaze is pulled out of the painting by the woman’s intense focus on something not depicted.

The series of sketches by Edgar Degas, titled "Portraits of Actors and Actresses," addresses specific actors and actresses personality, capturing them each in their prime moment that presents them as an artist. All are dramatically staged or posed, such as Mary-Louise Marsy or Polin, each portrait shows the individual for what they are, which in turn defines who they are.

Camille Pisarro in "La Mere Jolly" also explores a person in his or her ideal setting, yet the setting is rather a different one. The mother depicted here sits complacently, knitting in a sunny garden. Pisarro here was concerned not with the accurate portrayal or representation of the woman, as the brushy, impressionistic work dispels of that idea, but to portray her in a naturalized setting. We see this woman in her prime place, not as a posed model, but in her everyday life.

"The Smiling Blind Man" by Pablo Picasso is also a perspective on “people at the margins of society.” The man in the picture sits, much like Pisarro’s figure, in his chair, seemingly wondering in his own contemplation. Picasso, as discussed in the exhibition’s detailing, concerned himself at one point with representing people not in mainstream society. Portraiture, in this case, was not like much portraiture—in trying to display status or wealth or even preserving someone’s record in time—it’s simply the portrayal of a common person in a common setting. This might have something to do with the impressionist movement’s goal of showing moments in time, in capturing the simple essence of something or someone.

As we make our transition into the “Now.” part of the exhibition, we see what seems at first a dramatic transition, but in actuality is an extension of the themes begun by impressionists. In this section of the exhibition, we see artists pushing, rather more forcefully, against the boundaries of traditions and confronting sociological issues.

Julie Speed’s "Still Life with Suicide Bomber #1 and Suicide Bomber #2" raises many questions of the conflict in Iraq. Staged as a traditional still-life with fruit, the piece is both revolting and yet, the viewer can’t help but feel it is normal. The mangled piece of finger in the foreground cannot be called a true portrait, yet it is still retains the polished, staged characteristics of traditional portraiture. Speed made an impressionable statement of the detrimental effects of war, commenting perhaps on its acceptability in society.

"Immigrant Backpack" also forces the viewer to contemplate on another current issue—immigration. Made of soft sculpture of vinyl and thread, artist Margarita Cabrera put together an ensemble of what the viewer assumes is found in a typical backpack of an immigrant. Tortillas, a ratchet, a wallet with a wallet-sized picture of the Virgin Mary, a can of beans and children’s books, among other things, lie in display. The portrait here lies in various simple objects that immigrant workers live off. Though there is no human figure in this work, one gets the feeling of the humble, simplistic lifestyle of a person, thus a person is metaphorically present.

Kehindle Wiley is more direct in his message in "Elcias." An oil on canvas work more closely in line with traditional portraiture in the direct gaze and representation of a being, this work still breaks with tradition in subject matter and the way in which the man is portrayed. Wiley does series of works that presents young African-American men in portraits filled with floral décor. This work directly confronts the viewer to consider the role of African-Americans within society—what is the difference between these young men and men deemed worthy of portraits throughout time? Wiley uses portraits as a way to raise self-awareness.

Marie Watts’ column of blankets is a derivation from the rest of the exhibition. While her idea of blankets as a good exemplification of a person’s being, and I enjoyed her concept that because we are received and exit this world in a blanket, I feel it was a bit of a stretch to call it a portrait. The work definitely exhibits a different aspect of human beings, but rather than defining anything about them, it is simply a mediatory tool in the transition from life to death. Despite its incongruity within the exhibition, however, I felt it was one of the most compelling pieces present.

The show must have proved difficult for curators to pull together, as it is binding together many different artists with contrasting ideas, themes and ways of representing human beings. I applaud their tact in piecing and making two drastically different eras work together. The organization as you walk around from start to end was well thought-out and the various themes they had in separate rooms made it easier to classify and understand individual works. It was refreshing to see traditional stuff contrasted so masterfully with contemporary work of our day.

Forgotten letter on flight to Paris

2008-06-28T14:19:00.000-05:00

Reading across various files I found on my computer, I found something I wrote while traveling to Paris this past summer. Interesting read:

Jour Numero Un:

Sitting in this dimly-lit, slightly-musty, cool-but-pierced-with-an-air-of-heaviness space on a A333 jet somewhere over the Atlantic, I have only one thought occupying my thoughts: ugh. The kid in the row in has been crying, but not the normal crying. It’s somehow worse (don’t ask a recently woken, weary traveler how it could get worse than a toddler crying in a confined space while trying to sleep).

My throat’s congested from the mustiness and my nose definitely has limited air intake. My eyes feel bleary and my neck is almost frozen stiff from the discomfort of sleeping while hunched over, a habit developed from years of gleaning my skills at napping on school-desks.

But then, I look out the window and see the sunset. There really are few things as glorious as the breaking of the day seen first-hand at the level of angels themselves.

Ok, this is more like it: I’M ALMOST IN PARIS!

My laptop’s telling me it’s 11:18 p.m. My neighbor’s watch is telling me it’s 12:18 (he’s from the East coast). My itinerary tells me I’m landing at 6:50 a.m.

None of these matter, however.

It’s just as well, as they don’t make sense at the moment. My body’s demand supersedes all of these: SLEEEEEEP. I guess it has reason to complain. I slept not even a minute yesterday due to my usual packing procrastination (1 a.m. the morning before a flight is a new record!) and took random naps at Houston Intercontinental, on the flight to Philly and now managed only some cramped, flustered sleeping, the results of which I already ventured to enlighten you with.

I can’t really tell how I’m feeling, except for groggy. The fact that we’re landing at seven in the morning in Paris time, while my body’s convinced it’s midnight, is going to make this a tricky day. We’ll see how it goes!

I met a few of my peers in the program. Very nice girls! We’re all at such different levels of French, I feel neither behind nor particularly gifted.

At this point, I have only the following expectations: good food, learn French, good company, learn French, see some great places, learn French, see some old friends, learn French, make new friends, and spend innumerable hours surveying the art that for the past six years I have only seen in my textbooks.

In other words, expectations are most certainly high! I have faith they will be expectations fully fulfilled, too.

Here comes sleepiness again. Better go try to take one more nap before landing. Wouldn’t want to look too much like a slovenly American when I meet my host family!

A bientot mes amis!

Christie’s Art Auction

2008-05-13T15:27:00.000-05:00

This past Tuesday was evidence of the art market’s flourishing business. A total of 57 works, only three which remained unsold, were auctioned off by a variety of sellers ranging from French philanthropists to Seattle collectors to divorcing couples. The buyers, strangely enough, were all anonymous, as reported in the New York Times.

This auction attracted my interest for a couple of reasons:

First, while we do not know who the buyers were, we do know that 70% were American, 26% were European (which included a significant number of Russian buyers), and 4% were Asian. I was surprised to find such a large number of European buyers, as the artists were all American.

Second, I was amazed that one of the lowest-priced “artworks” sold was none other than a modernist house designed by Richard Neutra, for a mere $15 million. I say “mere” because the highest-selling painting, “No. 15” by Mark Rothko sold for an unsettling $50.4 million.

Upon reading this news, I realized where my deep disillusionment with the art world lies—when an artwork so simplistic sells for almost double what a house costs, you have to wonder: where do the values in art lie?

Most of the paintings sold in this auction were bought previously anywhere from ten to fifteen years ago. Apparently in that decade or two, paintings collect even more value. For example, Rothko’s “No. 12” was bought in 1999 for $11 million. That’s an accrued $35.4 million increase in 9 years! Is it really that much more glamorous now than it was only a decade ago?

It’s issues like these that make me really stop and wonder if the heart of art lies in the right place.

Genres Generals

2008-04-24T08:39:00.044-05:00

Evaluation Criteria for the Non-Artist

So, you're standing in a museum or gallery room looking at a painting. It's one of those moments in which you feel a comment is necessary because it's just you and that one other person who straggled behind their tour. You muster up the most profound observation you can, only to end up with, "yeah...the colors are...pretty."
Not that there's anything particularly wrong with that, but I'm sure a more eloquent manner in which to express your feelings on the subject at hand might carry out with more prestige.
The following are a list of criteria and technical terms in various genres to identify in artworks that are sure to make you sound like you've been well-versed in your art matter.

Paintings
These two-dimensional works are best described by their most obvious elements: mediums. If it's shiny (oily, even) and impossibly perfectly blended, chances are it's an oil painting. Oil is the most high-quality paint one can find. If you're looking at a particularly old oil painting, it usually is yellowed from varnish, a layer of gloss commonly applied to a finish oil, and is slightly cracking. A fair amount of paintings pre-modern-era are oil. A good example of such an artwork is Italian painter Paolo Veronese’s, Portrait of a Sculptor, an oil on canvas.

The next most common paint, especially in modern-day paintings, is acrylic. Popular for its quickness in drying and inexpensive cost, this paint is used widely in large-scale works as it saves money and allows the artist to work quickly. These paintings are detectable in their more matte look, though, if used skillfully, the paint still blends colors just as well as oil. However, the quality is never the same finish as an oil painting.

In addition, we have also watercolor, gouache and tempera paint as well. Watercolor has the most translucent appearance, as it is paint applied by mixing dry paint with water. Contemporary artist Brendy Vaughn’s shows the result of such multi-layering.

It is usually applied layer upon layer of thin, watery-looking colors. Gouache and tempera are, I won't lie, better left to identify by reading the plaque beside the artwork. It's ok, you can cheat.

Sculpture
This is, to be frank, a tricky realm. Sculpture can be anything from traditional clay-based materials to "found objects," which sometimes can be random crud found on the street. Yes, even crud (Google Chris Ofili if curiosity is piqued).

Now, if made from earthy materials (clay composites), there are two basic things you should know: 1) it was originally hand-modeled from a mushy mess into the concrete object standing before you. That in itself is pretty impressive. This method is called modeling. The Greek kamares jar pictured on left is one such example of modeling. 2) in order to get to that concrete stage, it underwent a super-baking process, known as firing. If it has color, it’s called a glaze. If it's just its natural color, then it's just been bisque-fired. If it is a plaster object, however, it is made of a material that is similar to clay, based of a powder and water. This material is often used to make cast molds of objects, a process by which the material is wrapped around an object until it solidifies, leaving behind a hard replica. This technique is often used to for the impressive-looking Greek and Roman sculptures found in museums (gasp! they're not real!).

Another form of sculpture is made by the subtraction, or carving, method, These can be made from any number of materials, including granite, marble, wood and even concrete. Take, for instance, Michaelangelo’s St. Theresa in Ecstasy. Michelangelo would hand-pick giant slabs of marble and import them from hundreds of miles to create his stunning works. This work is initially chiseled from a solid block of marble and then smoothed and chiseled until a masterpiece unveils.

Other forms of sculpture that are based on a mixed array of materials are really up to the own viewer's interpretation. I have seen in my time some rather oddly composed works, including a recent stuffed toy dog wrapped in a quilt with toe socks hanging off it. There was really no visual cohesion. It made me want to hug it, however, so I can only assume it had worth of some kind.

Other Media

Everything that isn’t sculpture or art, for the sake of brevity and lack of expertise in these areas, I will define as, “other media.” Modern graphic design work, installations, performance art, video art, photography—it’s all extremely varied. The only advice I can offer is to rely on your immediate reactions. Technical skill in these genres is not qualifiable, as they rely heavily on modern technology, not human skill. Instead, look for balance in contrast, forms, and colors. If the work harmonizes well or makes you think critically about subject or message being conveyed, it is worth the time. Local Austin artist Eric Zimmerman’s work is provides a great example of an installation work that is aesthetically appealing. Comprised of a combination of sketches, sculptural and projection works, it forms to make one astounding whole.

One Last Word to the Wise

Now, though you may often hear that artists’ works are to be appreciated and respected because they are simply a form of expression, I believe that this a false supposition. If something particularly offends you or irks your judgment in a way that is not pleasing, I don’t believe it merits any praise. However, if you should happen to encounter such a work, do refrain from ostentatious or conspicuous demonstration of dislike.

I also would, as an artist (even if not a “true” artist), beg that you first consider the work both critically and intuitively. Only by employing both methods may you come to decide if this work is, in fact, for you. Art is, after all, meant to be enjoyed—it is the language readable by all—regardless of background or age. So, enjoy.

The Non-Artist's Guide to Estranged Art Museums

2008-04-14T20:04:00.040-05:00

Do you, like many, find yourself cocking your head awkwardly, one eye half-squinted, when encountered with a particularly confounding artwork in a museum?

You are not alone, my friend.

There are preventative measures for the mildly discomforting neck-ache (and no doubt headache) incurred by such strenuous observation after spending the day in the modern-day art museum.

I have been having serious issues with art these days. No, not art. The lack of interest in it and the common negative attitude toward it, which I have reason to believe arises from grievous misunderstandings of art. And so, I will offer my own advice on how to approach art in the current sea of art trends.

I realize you'll ask, "What makes you qualified to give such advice?"
I don't claim to be the most qualified person, but I do believe I have enough credentials for the following reasons:

1) I have produced art in all mediums for as long as I can remember and am two classes shy from an art degree.

2) My favorite subject is art history. I have been studying everything from prehistoric cave drawings to high renaissance art to post-modernist art to performance art to comic sequential art. I know a fair amount of artwork spanning all ages and mediums.

3) I am not your typical artist. I have this theory that to be a "true" artist, you must have experienced immense trauma in your life. Salvador Dali was raised believing he was the reincarnation of his deceased older brother. Vincent van Gogh's works prove the results of too much paint-eating. I, on the other hand, still have both ears intact and am the middle child of five in a loving, supportive family. I have no serious complaints, fortunately. Or in this case, not so fortunate as I am not driven to express inner turmoils with paint on a canvas, and thus, will never make my name in the art world.

But that does mean I can look at art from the perspective of a non-artist. I paint things that I think are pretty, simple as that. I myself have stood, I can't even guess how many times, before "art" and just looked at it, hoping something would come of it or I might find something to like in it. Of course, nothing does.

Many a time, I've also wondered what the world is coming to when looking at art.My point is, I'm right there with you when befuddled by a particularly incomprehensible piece.

My qualifications established, I will attempt the daunting task of setting a definition for art. Now, being an artist, honestly, doesn't make you any more qualified to determine what art is than a non-artist. I do, however, think we can at least offer you a few tools in the form of criteria to look for. You know, the basics.

But first, a definition.

I suppose an etymological, straight-from-the-dictionary definition is a good place to start. Art: "the quality, production, expression, or realm, according to aesthetic principles, of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance." Not bad. I think the key words here are "aesthetic principles," "beautiful," "appealing," and "more than ordinary significance."

Art has always been, and continues to be, just another form of expression. Not unlike words, except it's more well-suited for those who, well, maybe just weren't gifted with eloquent prose. Sometimes, though, I feel this is taken a bit to the extreme. I believe if you are going to express yourself, especially publicly, you should keep your audience in mind. You definitely shouldn't let the audience control how you express, but at least acknowledge that others would be looking at your artwork to grasp something from it. This lack of consideration for audience is an immense problem in today's art world, I feel. Artists seem to get so caught up in "expression" they end up in the self-centered lane.

This is where attention to the aforementioned "aesthetic principles" is crucial. An artwork that not only has something to say, but says it in a way that's memorable because it adheres to the aesthetic principles of "beautiful," "appealing," or of "more than ordinary significance," has a better chance of positively impacting its viewer. No doubt something that startles or baffles you negatively does impact you, but I'd say you tend to remember things--more fondly, even--when they bring a smile to your face rather than a look of disgust.

Of course, within those aesthetic principles, there is a wide degree of what qualifies as beautiful or appealing--every person has their own definition of these words. I think Henry Geldzahler, an art critic, came up with a fairly good theory. He suggested that good artwork stays with you--a week, a day, a year later--you still remember its form, its lines and the elements that worked so well together that the image stayed with you.

"If a work calls itself to memory," he said, "without your asking it, if it insists, if it comes back like a melody, then that's quite serious and you probably have to buy it."

Now, obviously, the majority of things we see are either not for purchase or beyond our fiscal means. However, if you get that urge to want to own it, then yes, it means something.

Geldzahler also insisted that good artwork continues to reveal something to you. If at first glance you look at it and are transfixed, that's great and all, but does it keep your interest? If you were to return to it at a later time, would it be a new experience all over again?

Artwork that withstands this kind of extended scrutiny surely must be worthy. In a way, finding good artwork is like finding a good significant other: the true test of having something valuable is hat it continues to astound you in new ways, never getting old.

Ruminations of Past

2008-04-01T00:36:00.059-05:00

"I'll give you a quarter if you shave off your eyebrows." Unsurprisingly, the obedient five-year-old boy disappears and returns minutes later, eyebrow-less.
Confronting his grandfather in complete solemnity, the boy holds out his hand and patiently waits for his reward.

Recounting this story fifteen years later, Miguel still has trouble getting through it without frequent bursts of laughter, especially when he reveals he never even got his quarter. Not to mention, this hoodwinking happened twice, with the same tragic result.

He isn't my only cousin with a story of my grandfather's benevolent mischief, however. Pretty much all my cousins, and even aunts and uncles, have countless stories of my grandfather's good-natured tricks.

So why is it that when i asked his ten children to describe him, they used words like, "austere," "hard-headed," and "workaholic"?
"It's curious," says my Aunt Vicky, "it wasn't wasn't until he was older and quit working that we discovered he was such a joker. Growing up, he made us work hard and made sure we abided by our strict Catholic doctrines."

I once heard that the reason people begin fervently reading the bible and frequenting church as they age is that they realize their days are numbered. My grandfather messed up--he did it backwards. Having been a dogmatic, fervent Catholic his whole life, it seems it finally dawned on him that it was time to relax.

Rafarel Jose Reyes Navarijo (yes, the mother's maiden name is essential and always is by Guatemalan standards), was born in 1932. I could talk about how he was the child of a peasant farmer in a third-world country, how he grew up during the depression in this environment, or how his childhood in general unfolded (which I can assure, is of great interest). However, that would only give you a general idea of my grandfather.

As one of his over forty grandchildren, I have come to believe what's most important is what he passed on to each of us, and how his strong character has prevailed after all this time. He passed away several years ago, and yet, I see the remnants of his jovial, strong nature everywhere. Every time my dad finishes a marathon, watching my cousins play the slyest tricks on each other, the cadence of my aunts' voices praying the rosary and even watching my uncles down shots at any family gathering. They all remind me of him.

Of his many traits, I'd say his humor is a big part of what he passed onto our family. Some of my favorite times were watching soccer games. Soccer in my family is like American football to most American families. For a while, my dad organized his own team, recruiting people he knew to play on his team in a Houston-area league. Myself a lover of soccer, I would go and usually tag along with my grandfather. He enjoyed pretending he was in charge of all. "That stupid kid never passes at the right moment!," "See, the problem here is they just won't communicate!" Sometimes he'd steal the ball for fun and hide it just to see the uproar he'd cause.

Just because he enjoyed a good joke every now and then, however, did not mean he was incapable of vengeful wrath. One night in Guatemala, my older sisters and cousins, then in their flirtatious teenage phase, were serenaded by a local group of similarly-minded teenage boys. Mind you, it was past midnight. My aunts found it amusing and indulged their wishes to go out and talk to them. That is, until my grandfather woke up.

We all furiously crammed into a corner room in the house while listening to his thundering steps make his way from the opposite end. He found us all right.

I have to say, watching a 60-something-year-old man run around with a broom smacking everyone on the behind that he could reach, not excluding any adults, while listening to our loud parrot screeching in protest to all the commotion while he's trying to sleep, made for one of the most memorable nights in my life.

Of all traits, however, his religious fervor was the greatest impartment. About three years ago, I went to Guatemala for Holy week. Now, in the United States, Holy Week is that one week around Easter in which Catholics have church every day. It's great because it allows for an extra holiday on Good Friday, usually.

In Guatemala, Holy Week is the week in which businesses shut down, families gather around altars and the entire nation is swept up in intense rituals (remember to exchange plenty of currency beforehand, unless you want to be penniless rather soon, like I was).

For a solid week, we had our routine: wake up early, go to church, come back, do household chores, go to church, go eat, go watch processions, come home, pray. My grandfather saw that this routine was strictly observed.

My favorite part of all was watching processions--large parade-like events in which people walk for endless miles, from dawn till dusk, carrying large, ornate wooden structures with sculptures of Christ and Mary upon their shoulders. I remember going when I was younger. I would ask my grandfather, "Why are they carrying those? What happens if they do?" My grandfather would respond with "Are you happy?"

"Well, yeah."

"You realize that Jesus suffered immensely, just like these people here are doing, so that you could be happy?"

As a child, it seemed simple enough. I continued watching the people laboriously carrying the immensely heavy wooden structures. As the incense drifted through the streets, enveloping all around us in a dreamy haze, I contemplated the meaning of it all.

"You have it lucky," one of my aunts said, nudging me.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"When I was your age, your grandfather would actually make us take part in the processions. From sunrise to sunset, we'd be out there, carrying those heavy statues."

She then told me of the usual fasting and intense prayer that accompanied such days. As I grew, I came to realize all the more just how much my grandfather had sown the seeds for a strong family.

The greatest test of all came the summer of 2002. I was 15 and enjoying my first summer as a high school student. It was one of those mornings in which you are unjustly robbed of what should have been a nice carefree summer day by a phone call that changes your life. Mine came in the form of my sister calling to tell me my cousin Daniel, whom I had grown up with and considered my brother, was in the hospital.

Groggily picking up the phone, I remember irritatedly demanding to know why she woken me at 7 a.m. on a summer day.

"Karina...Daniel's in the hospital."

"What happened?"

"He just got surgery done for appendicitis."

"Oh, well...he's ok, right? People have those all the time."

I expected him to go home that day.

"Well," my sister said slowly, measuring each word carefully, "it wasn't his appendix that was bothering him. They found a tumor."

I remember sitting there and not knowing quite what to think. My family and I found out soon enough that the tumor that had been growing for a number of years, undetected, was fatal. The 17-year-old, easygoing young man we knew as Daniel, who was always dedicated to our family, an avid long-distance cross country runner, who was going into his senior year of high school, wouldn't live past the month.

His parents did not know how to let Daniel know. It hardly seemed just for two parents to tell their son, who aspired to do so much with his life, that he would never see the fruition of all his hard work.

My grandfather got us through it, though.

He'd gather us all together in the hospital. Three times a day, he'd round everyone up to pray in the small chapel of the Texas State Hospital. We'd pray the rosary, and he'd read us comforting passages to alleviate our worries while we prayed. He gave us all hope and made us see that everything in life had its purpose, as impossible as it appeared at times. He brought in his many friends who were priests from both abroad and our local churches. He kept order and balance as well as a smile on everyone's face, including Daniel's. Himself not in the best of health at this point, he was the pillar on which we all were supported.

By the time Daniel’s funeral came around one warm summer day, we were all, including Daniel, prepared to admit of this loss. It was a quiet and peaceful on a warm summer day.

A year later, my grandfather's own time came. In those last few days, we watched people stroll in from various countries and cities in the U.S. He made sure we were the last ones in the room, however.

He gathered us all around for one last counsel: "Your grandmother and I loved each and every one of you. We created a family with eleven kids, got to watch our eleven kids have many more kids of their own and watched our family grow and prosper. It's almost inhuman and borderline insane to attempt such a thing. But you know how we did it? We kept God close to us at all times. Without Him, we would have never been able to create such a loving, healthy family. Always remember that anything is possible with His help."

Having been a member of the Franciscan order, he was buried in his brown Franciscan robes. His funeral was carried out in strict Catholic procedures, just as he himself would have had it conducted.

Unexpected Sweetness: giving organic supermarkets a second try

2008-03-25T17:27:00.000-05:00

“Geez it’s cold in here.” This was my first thought when I stepped into HEB’s Central Market. This thought was quickly replaced, however, by a barrage of further contemplations.

Looking around, I was immediately aware of two things: I was one of the few young people in the store, as most shoppers appeared to be suburban mothers and relatively young business men in their polished, crisp dry-cleaned suits. I also quickly took notice of the countless number of banners announcing “fresh,” “all-natural,” and “organic” above the nestled-in-ice foods.

From these observations, I was quickly able to establish the kind of place I’d wandered into: one of those so-called “yuppie” venues I hear people at school complaining about endlessly.

I’m sure you’re wondering why it is that I have just now, after three years of living in Austin, discovered Central Market. Unfortunately, I have no satisfactory answer. Truth is, I just never cared to spend any of my time or funds on this place, mostly because I believed it to be just another Austin-esque environmental gimmick. However, I recently sprung an interest in establishing a healthier eating regimen, which includes branching out to foods I am not accustomed to, and I had an inkling Central Market would be the ideal place to find these foods. Though incredibly dubious at first, I walked out completely satisfied. It took some wandering around to get a sense of the place first, however.

As I began walking around, I felt a little displaced. The vegetables seemed impeccably arranged. There were rows of squash, bell peppers and tomatoes, all gleaming as if each vegetable had been individually polished. I was overly-cautious moving around the items, fearful of causing the slightest disarray to their neat little pyramids. The deli and seafood sections, though a little more welcoming with workers waiting to help, were still slightly unapproachable. The neat rows of fish filets, all perfectly cut and shaped, made me hesitant to ask for any. There were just so many choices! Each section I reached, I encountered numerous labels and names I did not recognize. Everywhere I turned, I was met with various bleached-blonde, perfectly-tanned women, carefully reading labels on each product. It was not fun waiting patiently to find my crunchy peanut butter or the perfect cucumber.

When I reached the bakery, however, all my unease dissipated: cookies make anyone feel at home.

The scent of the slightly frosted buttercream vanilla cookies meshed with fresh fudge brownies glowing under the warm bakery lights made me instantly feel I was where I belonged. With a batch of my favorite cookies in hand, I made my way through the cooking utensils aisle, with its marvelous array of choices and came across a bar where people were gathered around a wine tasting.

The wine appreciators sat around a lively-lit bar, cups in hand, laughing and chatting with their neighbors while savoring what I suspect was delectable wine. The light jazz music added to the festive scene, reminding me of a classic Renoir painting. It turns out Central Market hosts a series of cooking and food appreciation classes open to anyone seeking to become a cuisine connoisseur, for a relatively reasonable price as well. I might just have to take up a class or two myself one day!

The employees also helped me feel more at home. Walking around, I found myself surrounded by nicely-dressed, well-kept young men asking, “Would you like help with that ma’am?” With their help, even the seemingly impossible-to-get-to delicious luxuries atop the highest shelves were not out of my reach. I was happily handed my canned fresh green beans. Who wouldn’t feel more comfortable with this kind of service? Their female counterparts were no less friendly, willing to help with a smile whenever help was solicited.

As I approached the cash registers to pay, I was greeted with the fresh, yet sweet aroma of flowers. Not a bad tactic, Central Market. In case you are flustered while competing in the bumper-basket war as you shopped down the aisles, bright, cheery gardenias and tulips are there to assure that at least your last moments in the store are enjoyable.

“Paper or plastic?” When I was asked this as I rung out, I had to pause for a minute: I couldn’t even recall the last time I was asked that question. Glad to see there are still places one can be brought back to previous decades, when this question was commonplace at a market store.

As I walked out of the Market, I realized I was already thinking of what I would buy the next time I was in the store. This thought was elaborated in great detail later when I got home and tried my peanut butter. It was crunchy, yet nice and fluffy. Though I had taken a chance on my peanut butter, as it was one of the few items not offered as a sample, I found myself content. The rest of my goods were no less satisfying. The most remarkable part, to a college student, was the fact that my total was actually in the same price range I usually expect. Tastier, healthier food for the same price—there is no complaint over that!

Though before I was an avid cynic of places that claimed to be “organic” and “all-natural,” Central Market has given me enough reason to begin taking more interest in trying out locales of this nature. I mean, any place that can get me to actually start cooking has to have something more to it, right?

Subscriptions to Publications: Make some!

2008-03-08T18:25:00.007-06:00

I had what was most likely one of the best assignments I've ever gotten in my life. For my art history class, we were given three different publications in the art world: Art in America, Artforum, and The Art Newspaper.

The latter of these I took a hard fall for.

Who would've thought there's a whole newspaper devoted to the going-ons of the art world?! It's not a biased newspaper either in terms of regional issues. It incorporates the entire world. I mean, the cover of my issue was Middle Eastern art!

Take a look. This is the cover of one issue:

Sigh. Naturally, I looked up subscription to this newspaper, but...well, this is where being a college student has its unfortunate disadvantages. At $100 for a year-long subscription, I'm a little hesitant to subscribe. Maybe once I have more of an income. If only there were an "every other month" subscription.

Can we say early Christmas present?

And by the way, there is a magazine or newspaper for just about ANYTHING you can imagine. I tell no lies. Google it or, better yet, find a copy of "Writer's Market" that's current. I think it's important that people keep up subscriptions to magazines and other similar publications. Yes, I realize that you can find any information your little heart may ever desire online with a few clicks of a button, but come on. How great would it feel to receive a special something completely suited to your interests and addressed personally to you every month (or week, or bi-monthly...)?

We shouldn't let the internet completely destroy our printed publications!

Seriously consider it. It would make those of us in the design and writing world ever so happy. Not to mention, it'd be neat to have your coffee table feature more than just worn-in coasters and drink stains, don't you think?

Fail.

2008-03-03T18:35:00.003-06:00

Real quick before I have to go to class:

I got a really bad grade on an essay! And I was thrilled!

Why, you may ask? Because I've realized I have a professor who grades freakishly hard--and that is exciting. I've felt my grammar slacking since I took American Grammar almost two years ago. So I am excited to have a professor that once again deducts about ten points for each little mistake. Grammar's too important to forget. Even in this blog, I'm sure there are many many errors I will one day need to go and fix.

Sigh. Oh, and it's outrageously cold.

That's really all.

Sometimes You Just Have to Write

2008-02-27T19:22:00.004-06:00

I figured it was time to break up the monotonous, long, over-500-word sequence of entries.

I'm writing because I was re-reminded of why I love it here.

Ok, so I'm feeling all tired/lazy/hopeless with the looming prospect of what I know will be another less-than-five-hours-of-sleep night. I just got out of two meetings in a row after a full day of classes, and was heading to my apartment, when I figured, "Eh, I guess I'll stop and get coffee. Might as well start the caffeine high now."

So I walk into the coffee shop, and being the retarded coffee nerd I am, get into a discussion about the drip coffee of the day. I appreciate Seattle's Best giving coffee cute names like "Twilight" or "Port City Blend," but, really...I know my coffee. Where is it from!? I'm partial to Ethiopian/Pacific island coffee myself and don't like the fact that I could be drinking plain Columbian, or worst, the too-bitter-for-me Sumatra blend.

Phew, that was my coffee rant for the day.

Now that I feel like an idiot, let me go on. So the barista ended up being really nice after I swore I wasn't trying to make his job difficult--I just care about my coffee! It's my main comfort nowadays, you have to understand!

So then I turn around, and there's a mariachi band standing there. I was like, "What in the world...?" Turns out tonight's Alas de Oro night! In case you don't know, it's St. Edward's mariachi band. This almost beats the time I walked out of Holy Cross Hall and almost ran into a pony. No joke. There was a pony out on the lawn. Why pick ponies for an involvement fair, I've no idea. But who doesn't like ponies?

Um, I think I made this way longer than I intended.

Anyway, now to fulfill my purpose in being here: sickening amounts of homework. Haha, everyone just started singing along to the song they're playing.

Ok, maybe this wasn't such a good idea....

News on News: the St. Edward's Student Newspaper's History

2008-02-13T21:14:00.129-06:00

St. Edward's University's past is filled with enthralling stories, events and people since its birth in 1885. Its rich history paints a picture that showcases the school's intriguing persona. But how is it that we have such a clear idea of its past? We owe much of this fortunate documentation to the campus' student newspaper.

Though it now goes by the name, "Hilltop Views," this newspaper has had as many names as the school has had renovations.

Making its debut in 1888, the campus newspaper, for it was not strictly a student newspaper, was called "The College Echo," more commonly referred to simply as, "The Echo."
Name wasn't the only difference, however: the newspaper's focus and content was radically different as well.

The first issue featured an introductory salute to readers that read: ""We hope our company will prove not altogether disagreeable, if not captivating, and that you will bear with our foibles, for we are very young and wish to profit by experience."

Along with welcoming readers, the first issue also featured six feature stories. Among these was an article on "optional studies," or, electives, such as art, music, telegraphy and phonography. There was also a story announcing the construction of the Main Building, complemented with an architectural sketch displaying the awe-inspiring design.

Each subsequent issue functioned not only as a way to keep the the campus informed, but as an outlet for creative writers, featuring academic essays and short stories. Topics included everything from philosophical themes to sociological issues.

It was well-respected and even admired by other publications, including Notre Dame's Scholastic, which "concluded, after seeing three issues of the publication, that it had 'taken a leading position among the papers of the college world," according to Brother William Dunn's book, "St. Edward's University: A Centennial History." The Ave Maria also a Notre Dame publication, called it "an unpretentious but excellent little paper."

The University of Texas' campus newspaper, "Texas University" looked favorably on the "Echo," as well.

"The fact is we like your paper...in short, you have a well-rounded and well-proportioned paper, and one that does your credit," read a comment by "Texas University" in Dunn's book.
Another important feature, however, was the staff's choice to abide to a code of "impersonal journalism." News articles were rarely by-lined; writers' names were hardly ever mentioned, unless a creative essay or something of similar nature.

Quite a change from the present-day Hilltop Views.

Feeling the newspaper was in need of revamping, the editorial staff decided to make a dramatic change in 1947 and changed the name to "The Hilltopper."

The first issue summarized the history of St. Edward's up to that year and included a direct address from then-president Brother Edmond Hunt, to the students. He also directly addressed the newspaper's creators.

"I take this first issue of the Hilltopper as an opportunity to commend the enthusiasm of the paper's staff...this is no mean job...organizing a student publication laid to rest during the war years," said Hunt, for the publication had just picked up from discontinuance after the trying WWII years.

The new Hilltopper ran fairly smoothly in its almost-forty-year run, hitting only a few minor snags along the way, including a dispute over criticism of St. Edward's administration.

The Echo's editors, however, did attempt at taking a more "Aristotelian" character: balancing criticism, reporting and commenting on St. Edward's as well as Austin community events. They even saw that worldly issues of the day were addressed.

Eventually, however, the Hilltopper, according to Dunn's book, became something other than journalism. It eventually solicited enough negative response to bring about its discontinuance once again.

What ensued was a brief trial run of "The Edwardian" from 1984 to 1985. With a poor layout and writing style, however, it was short-lived.

Finally, after a two years of getting the paper together and revitalized, the St. Edward's community welcomed "Hilltop Views" in 1987.

While originally published by Student Life, the current newspaper in these past five years was moved to a humanities department publication.
Some feel that this has helped the newspaper become more in line with standard newspaper conventions.

"When I came to campus eight years ago, the focus of the newspaper would change a bit from year to year depending on the students involved and their interests. Now the paper has a steadier and crisper focus on campus news, and it reports the news consistently well," said Associate Dean of the School of Humanities, Richard Bautch.

Current co-chief editor Dianne Saathof agreed with this statement.

"We have a lot more credibility, so we're able to do a wider variety of interesting stories," said Saathof.

Nowadays, the newspaper has attained a near-standard-newspaper status; whereas in previous volumes the newspaper was bi-weekly, monthly, or even quarterly, Hilltop Views is now a weekly newspaper.

It is almost exclusively student-run, with a full staff consisting of section editors, copy editors, graphic designers, photographers and a marketing team. Writers are paid per issue and, instead of as before, where many of the writers were faculty and staff, contributers are now all students.

They hope to continue the tradition of preserving the campus' memories. After all, it is largely thanks to this long-standing hilltopper tradition that we know our school's past.

Austin Playhouse Featuring "Les Liasons Dangereuxes"

2008-02-08T10:15:00.000-06:00

The Austin Playhouse's, "Les Liaisons Dangereuses," a captive tale of betrayal and under-handed scheming, is sure to have you returning to theater to see more.

Les Liaisons Dangereuses, based on Pierre Choderlos de Laclos' 1782 French novel, deals with the turbulent events in French aristocracy society pre-revolution. While it has had many adaptations, this version was of the best I've seen yet. The actors were marvelous, with great charisma and chemistry on stage. The harpischord music was soothing and, where appropriate, rousing. The viewer throughout the play is privy to all conniving events that seem sure to lead to a tragic end. You will find yourself on the edge of your seat the entire duration of the play.

Part of what has made this show such a success is Austin Playhouse's philosophy and work ethic. Begun only eight years ago in 2000, it has a lot to show for its short lifespan. This is due largely to the way in which each person involved with the theater takes great part in the development of each production.

Their actors, many of them from the Actors Equity Association, have perfectly balanced chemistry on stage that stems from their involvement with one another. "We have a company of artists that have worked together for years. They trust and know each other. They inspire each other," said Don Toner, founder of Austin's Playhouse.

Toner also said that theater is run more as a family company than anything else. According to him, actors work alongside the artistic directors, costume designers and set designers. Even his own family is involved, helping with everything from concessions to playing parts in the productions themselves.

It's with everyone's close involvement that the Playhouse has achieved such a large audience over the years. With subscriptions now at 2,000 members, Toner hopes to reach more people in coming years. "Of course we'd love to have more people come see our shows. We'd especially like the support of the younger people in Austin."

This statement is reinforced by that fact that Austin Playhouse sells discounted tickets to students at half-price. For the high quality of the productions, this discount is quite a deal. Though the play was over two and a half hours, it seemed to take, beginning to end, no more than an hour. So engaging was the plot, so attention-grabbing the performance, that one is hardly conscious of the passage of time. Not to mention, the tasty refreshments served keeps one satisfied as well.

If you're looking for something to do that's a little out of your average outing, Austin Playhouse is sure to be a good solution to your dilemma. Located only a mile or so from St. Edward's behind Opal Divine's, it is convenient to access, offers great prices and is sure to entertain.

Les Liaisons Dangereuses will be playing until Feb. 24, and is well worth seeing. Be sure to check out upcoming productions as well, such as Stones in His Pockets, playing at Larry L. King Theater starting Feb. 8, and Blithe Spirit, starting March 28 at Main Stage.

Current showtimes for Liaisons Dangereuses are Thursday-Saturday at 8 p.m. and Sundays at 5 p.m. To buy tickets, call (512) 476-0084.

What it Means to be a St. Edward's University Student

2008-02-02T11:59:00.001-06:00

At each university, and this is especially true for Texan schools, students often describe themselves by their school’s distinguishing characteristics. "Of course I’m school-spirited!,” “Everyone here loves rock!,” "I'm a die-hard fan; I go to every game!"

What does one do, however, when at a school with no common identity; on the contrary, the school's students more readily define themselves by a lack of identity?

This would be fine, except a lack is just that: a lack. How could you possibly define yourself by a lack?

Odd as it sounds, I think there are characteristics within this lack of identity when it comes to St. Edward's University students.

Our institution is defined by founders as "a private, Catholic liberal arts institution of more than 5,300 located in one of the world's most vibrant cities, Austin, Texas."

In broad speculation, different assumptions can be made. Private schools are notorious for fostering pretentious individuals. Catholicism is often equated with self-righteous religious fanatics. Liberal arts suggests self-proclaimed clairvoyant youngsters. Even the school’s location of “vibrant” Austin could allude to a school of earth-friendly hippies.

These assumptions are well-off, however. While I have no proof that such individuals don't exist here, I do have proof that not everyone fits these descriptions. I am Catholic, yet have many friends who are not. I know vegetarians, but also plenty who have to be hounded into recycling. I also know as many who remain uninvolved in campus activities as live for betterment of our community.

What's strange is that, while I know few ostentatious in their pride of being a Hilltopper, I don't often encounter those firmly opposed to being here.

But that's what makes us Hilltoppers unique. We can like our school without annoying people, flashing our gaudy purple and gold or gruesome maroon and white at every opportunity. We like people enough to have elected a school where we can meet someone in class and expect to see them at Meadows Coffee shop sometime.

We're okay with getting to know our professors enough so they actually recognize us if ever run into while grocery shopping. I've even encountered classes where we willingly meet for casual discussions on our own time.

No, we may not have a football team and our sports events don't have record-setting attendees, but I see my classmates help others whenever able. We help each other in subtle ways because we feel a sense of community, however undefinable, with our peers.

The best part about being a student at St. Edward's University? A few simple experiences can explain.

I remember one of my first weeks as a freshman. Walking from Doyle, the homey-even-if-moldy dorm, I stopped by our humble, small white chapel. The sun cascaded lazily through the trees as butterflies fluttered in the fuschia flowers beside the path. I remember thinking: "I'm home." The usual homesickness always with me evanesced. Just like that.

This morning, I walked into the coffee shop and looked around. I saw several of my peers occupying couches and tables, lightly chatting or absorbed in readings.

Something about the smell of coffee and morning sun combined with the sight of familiar classmates comforts me, because I know no matter how different we are and what varying things we find interest in, as that's largely responsible for our lack of common identity, we go through similar experiences.

We know how awful it feels when a class we were looking forward to is canceled because enrollment was not high enough.

We love to complain about parking, though walking half a mile is no comparison to other schools, where students have to make two-mile treks to classes.

We hate catching South Congress Cafe when they are closed or are out of the only edible-looking dish in sight.

And yet, in spite of these complaints, we love St. Edward's. It's really inexplicable, but something keeps us here. Every day as I walk past our eminent main building, I look up at the crimson-colored steeple contrasting against the azure blue of the sky and I'm happy. I am a St. Edward's University hilltopper.

Holiday Concerts

2007-12-12T07:26:00.001-06:00

If there were something I would strongly encourage each one of you to do every Christmas season, it would be this: Attend at least one holiday-themed concert.

On Friday, I not only attended a holiday concert, but was a participant in one. St. Edward's University each year holds its Festival of Lights, an event in which the St. Edward's community comes together to celebrate the coming holiday season. This joyous occasion is week-long beginning with the lighting of a Christmas tree, continuing with a service project, and ending with a night filled with awe-inspiring music.

Now, while this year marked the 29th annual celebration, it was nevertheless new in the content included in the musical show on Friday.

For the first time, an orchestra and a mariachi band were part of the program.

The evening began with an outside ceremony in front of the Main Building, dazzlingly lit with warm, winter-air -clear lights. Various inspirational works, as well as an address by the president of St. Edward's were on the agenda, with a sprinkling of classic holiday songs as "O, Little Town of Bethlehem" and "Silver Bells." At the end of the ceremony, each person was given a candle and from the steps amidst the choir, I witnessed the lighting of candles beginning with a single lit candles and shared to to each neighbor until every person present had a lit candle.

The contrast of the sea of candles and the lightly lit Austin skyline is a sight I wish all could see; it truly is unforgettable.

With all the candles lit, we headed inside, singing "Silent Night" as we walked the three minutes up to the main concert area.

On walking in, guests were greeted with the festive ensemble of St. Edward's jazz band, "Steady." They got the concert underway with some upbeat jazzy tunes, including a snazzy version of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas."

After the jazz band followed the new-to-St. Edward's mariachi group, "Alas de Oro." They sang only two songs, but they were, in my opinion, of the best in the entire concert. I must admit, I have might have a bit of a bias because I, along with every other girl in that room, was swooped off my feet by the talented young man who sang lead and played the guitar.

They ended their segment with the crowd-pleasing "Feliz Navidad," and the St. Edward's Orchestra piled onstage to carry on the festivity. This was my personal favorite of the night because there is nothing like hearing a live rendition of Tchaikovsky's famous Nutcracker songs.
After their breathtaking performance, the final performances of the night, by the various choirs of the University took the stage.

The Omni choir performed the ever-appeasing "Christmas Time" from "A Charlie Brown Christmas," and "Sleigh Ride," always appropriate for any Christmas Occasion.

Next, the St. Edward's University Chorale performed their...interesting choice of songs. I say interesting because they were, while undeniably entertaining, of a different nature.

It should suffice to say that I can't remember the last time I laughed during a concert. Not just laughed, but laughed alone. It didn't help that I was standing in the center of all the choirs. But really! What do you expect when they burst out in a song about a pig's head on a stick!?

The song was called, "The Boar's Head," which is, evidently, a tradition somewhere or another. All I know is when they started singing the line, "The boar's head I hear is the rarest dish in all the land," I lost control of my laughter, and had the hardest time suppressing a fit of giggles. No joke.

After the Chorale's performance, things got back to business. The St. Edward's Madrigals group graced the room with their sweet lullaby about the newborn Christ. However, they didn't end their performance on such a low note; instead, they ended with the most upbeat, make-you-want-to-dance song, "Uncle John," which included the most quizzical array of sounds.

This song was quickly followed by a joint performance by all choirs of "Old King Kong," a song which included the startling surprise of kazoos, which no one expected.

The finale of the concert was undoubtedly the best. A wonderful, breath-taking version of "Oh Holy Night," complete with accompaniment by the orchestra left every person in the room with the pronounced warm feeling of Christmas.

All in all, a wonderful concert. Seriously, go to one of if you can. If you've ever lacked Christmas spirit, this should do the trick.

The Guayaquil Mission

2007-11-29T02:16:00.000-06:00

With the hundreds, if not thousands, of non-profit organizations currently in existence, it seems unlikely that yet another could make much difference. This is especially true for small non-profits trying to get a start. No matter where you turn, there are always donation requests. Seems an unlikely environment in which to succeed , right?

The Guayaquil Mission, however, begun merely five years ago, has disproven this speculation. Begun by a small, ordinary American family, since its inception, it has changed the outlook for a small town in Ecuador. Guayaquil's standard of living has dramatically increased, giving its inhabitants hope for a better future.

And all it took was a little inspiration from a family trip to Ecuador.

The Shaver family is one of many families in which one of the parents is American, the other, another nationality. Due to Anna’s Ecuadorian background, the family has been traveling to Ecuador fairly often. It was during these many trips that they would notice the inconsistencies between their own life in America and the life of those in Ecuador.

"My wife would come back depressed from seeing all those poor kids on the streets asking for food," said Mike Shaver.

So the couple began seeking ways to begin some kind of project that would aid the people of Guayaquil, Ecuador. Luckily, Mike Shaver was already involved in SEA-El Carmen, an organization already involved in international projects.

Only one key obstacle remained to resolve: how to get funding.

They sought assistance from their church in Houston, St. Vincent de Paul, and soon found it in their fellow members. Together, they came up with the idea of collecting used clothes to raise funds. Having been successful, they took their first trip to Ecuador to benefit the people in Guayaquil where they distributed sandwiches and food packages to the needy.

It was here that they made their first encounter with a priest in Guayaquil: Pedro Riasco. Also passionate about improving the people’s living conditions, he came up with the idea of starting a toy drive that would provide toys during Christmastime for the children. This, too, was a successful venture, and yet they all still were yearning to more for the community.

Thus, they began planning a grand plan that would include a school and clinic. This, however, would take much more money than they had thus far raised, and more help than money as well. They would need land, resources, materials, a staff, and people they could trust to create the school.

Through hard work and persistent dedication, they were able to obtain the deeds to two plots of land in Guayaquil from the government, on the condition that the school was up and running within two years.

They sought the assistance of the administrative coordinator of the church, Sister Virginia. She was hesitant to endorse the program, so Anna and Mike Shaver decided to take her on a trip to Ecuador to see the situation for herself. “She was devastated to see people living in these conditions,” said Mike Shaver.

From then on, they had the full support of the church administration, who helped organize both a charity dinner and set up a donation system for the Guayaquil Mission, as it became known. Just from a direct appeal to the congregations during mass, they managed to fundraise $43,000, and with the other fundraisers, they were able to collect enough money to begin the construction of the school.

After hiring the necessary professionals, buying the materials (as well as having some donated by generous people), they were able to build the first part of the school which featured six classrooms. They had just a bit of money left over to pay select women from the town to become the first-ever teacher staff at the school.

Since then, the program has expanded to include a clinic as well and has inspired more people from St. Vincent de Paul to begin fundraising for their own causes. These days, they still depend entirely on donations from the general population and generate interest by holding Ecuadorian Craft Sales in various places. They recently had their first at St. Edward’s University, where they raised $3,000 over three days, enough to continue paying the teachers at the school.

What’s inspiring about this story is that it was simply a small family dedicated to making a difference in others’ lives. “When we first started and were doing used clothes sales, we had people saying, ‘You can’t do that, you’re only collecting $40 in a day,” said Mike Shaver. However, taking no heed of this negative criticism, they managed to create a highly successful program that has helped many.

Unexpected Holiday Spirit

2007-11-26T19:41:00.000-06:00

It's happened.

Instead of having to search for Christmas Spirit this year, it has found me!

Who would have thought that on walking three miles to get your car fixed, you could find Christmas Spirit in that unsightly pawn shop on the side of the road there?

But such is how I encountered it when a red-and-green sign announcing "Christmas Sale!" caught my eye. Peering in at the rows of bicycles, jewelry and gaming systems, it occurred to me: Since when is it fashionable to present loved ones with used, possibly even stolen, gifts?

Evidently, the season's spirit is in ruining one person's Christmas to make another's better.

I guess it explains the decline of spirit grasping the hearts of today's people.

What Happens When Sitting in Class During a Boring Lecture

2007-11-20T12:52:00.001-06:00

So, sitting in an English Writing class, I got to thinking: Where in the world did the word nonchalant come from?

Odd, I know. But someone said it and instinctively, I dissected it down into its etymological roots. Why, if the word is non-chalant, do we not have the word chalant in our vocabulary? I mean, if it ISN'T chalant, what is chalant anyway?

Naturally, I sought the assistance of what has become a very good friend to me over the years: dictionary.com. Oh, how I love this website.

So this is what I found:

[French, from Old French, present participle of nonchaloir, to be unconcerned : non-, non- + chaloir, to cause concern to (from Latin calēre, to be warm, heat up; see kelə-¹ in Indo-European roots).]

I then used my other favorite website, wordreference.com (best romance-language dictionary in existence) to validate the meaning of "chaloir" in French. This was what it listed:

chaloir ⇒

be important

So then I felt better. Nonchalant: Not of importance. Makes sense, right? Still, I am think I'm going to start advocating for the inclusion of some form of "chaloir" in the English vocabulary, such as "chalant."

This would be the dictionary entry:

cha·lant [shuh-lahnt] Pronunciation Key

–adjective
of a concerned manner: their chalant manner in the subject came as somewhat of a surprise

–Related forms
cha·lant·ly, adverb

So there you go. Feel free to use this word.

Some More Online Entertainment

2007-11-19T19:34:00.000-06:00

I have another suggestion for things to look at while online:

Potter Puppet Pals
Number Two

Even if you don't like Harry Potter, I swear they're worth your time.*

Have a good day!

*If you want to know why they're worth your time, read my post "No News is No Good."

Across the Universe

2007-11-18T21:36:00.000-06:00

On Saturday, I saw the Beatles-influenced movie musical, "Across the Universe." I must say I went into the movie expecting it to be great because I have found it is a hard-pressed task to find a musical I don't like.

So no surprise when I walked out of the theater feeling all glow-y inside.

Trips

2007-11-17T07:38:00.000-06:00

There are few things as entertaining as seeing celebrities make silly mistakes. Who knows why, but as much as people love these people, they love to see them at their worst as well.

This clip just about tops most of these humiliating moments in the lives of the famous:

Poor Girl

Enjoy!

No News is No Good

2007-11-16T10:16:00.000-06:00

Today's topic, while will understandably be of no appeal to certain readers, has significant meaning to some of us. By "some," I mean fans of the Harry Potter series.

Producers announced about two weeks ago the casting of "Lavender Brown," Ron Weasley's (Rupert Grin) over-obsessive, lively, yet slightly annoying, first girlfriend. Apparently there were about 7,000 hopeful girls 15-18 years old who were sorely disappointed to hear they would not be making their debut in the acting world opposite Grin.

There has been some criticism on the casting, however, because the lucky girl, 20-year-old English Jessie Cave, is two years over the auditioning age limit, leading many to claim it was an unfair selection with bias involved.

Personally, I don't like the selection. I pictured Lavender Brown as a typical flirtatious, shallow girl, not a girl who is starring in a T.V. drama called................Actress Jessie Cave
"Summer Hill," which is apparently....(Picture from news.bbc.co.uk)
a drama for kids. Other than that,
there's no information to be found about the show. Who knows how Cave will fit in. She's just so plain-looking. Which, even though that's supposed to be Lavender, I still imagine her different.

The funniest part about the whole thing is that the main reason so many girls were itching to get the part, besides international fame and getting to act in one of the best series ever, was the prospect of locking lips with Grin for a good part of the movie.

Anyway, for those of you who are wondering why this is so significant, I will attempt to explain: With the release of the final Harry Potter book, we were all left with a hole, similar to losing a long-time friend. For people like me, who began reading the books at eleven when the characters were eleven as well, the characters seemed to grow and evolve as we did, going through similar experiences.

After ten years of reading this incredibly addicting series, it really does feel as if something is missing. There are no more books left to look forward to, so any news with the movies, as comparatively bad as they are, is exciting.

Pumpkin Update

2007-11-05T18:25:00.000-06:00

I solved my dilemma. I went and bought condensed milk, nutmeg, a pie crust, pumpkin puree and ginger, then dove into my stash of cinnamon to make the most amazing pumpkin pie ever.

Now that I think about it, there's no good reason I can't share the recipe with you. So here it is. Very simple:

"The Perfect Pumpkin Pie"
*recipe from allrecipes.com*

INGREDIENTS

1 (15 ounce) can pumpkin
1 (14 ounce) can EAGLE BRAND® Sweetened Condensed Milk (NOT evaporated milk)
2 eggs
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 (9 inch) unbaked pie crust

DIRECTIONS

Preheat oven to 425 degrees F. Whisk pumpkin, EAGLE BRAND®, eggs, spices and salt in medium bowl until smooth. Pour into crust. Bake 15 minutes.
Reduce oven temperature to 350 degrees F and continue baking 35 to 40 minutes or until knife inserted 1 inch from crust comes out clean. Cool. Garnish as desired. Store leftovers covered in refrigerator.

It was really really easy and tastes better than most I've had. No joke. I'm not much of a cook, but I'm willing to make this once a week because it's so easy.

Enjoy!

Let Not Boredom Prevail

2007-11-03T11:10:00.000-05:00

A couple of websites to keep you entertained when at a computer for prolonged hours:

Geography Quizzes
I swear there are few things as satisfying as being able to name the location of any country in the world.
Demotivators
The bare truth.
Webboggle
I post this one with a warning: only begin playing if you are SURE you have at least five hours of which to dispose.
Best Coffee Ever
Something to get you in the holiday spirit. "Winter Wonderland" is simply amazing.

More when I think of them.
Have a good day!

Maybe Concerts Aren't so Terrible After All

2007-11-02T16:37:00.001-05:00

I went to a concert a week or two ago at which "Cute Is What We Aim For," "Plain White T's," "Gym Class Heroes," and "Fallout Boy" played, in that order.

Now, just for some background, I honestly don't like concerts that much unless they're sit-down, relax-and-listen-to-music kind of concerts. Things
...........Photo by Deedra Sharman.............such as ACL and outdoor ....................................................music festivals you'd have to pay me to go to or bribe me with really good compensation for going.

Secondly, I didn't really know any of those bands. Never heard of "Cute Is What We Aim For," knew one song, though I didn't know it, by "Gym Class Heroes," one song I did know of by "Plain White T's," and Fallout Boy... well, I used to listen to their stuff like five years ago. So I knew a lot of their old stuff, and mainly went to this concert to see old friends and perhaps be brought back to old memories.

So imagine my surprise to find myself putting this concert at the top of my concerts list. "Cute is What We Aim For," was decent. They were a good opening band because, besides being highly energetic, they were young. It was a little odd though.

The "Plain White T's" came next. They ended up having so many more good songs other than that "Hey There Delilah" song (which they did end with, in acoustic, which was pretty amazing). The whole band really knew how to interact with the crowd, which by the way, ranged from middle-schoolers to forty-year-old adults.

"Gym Class Heroes" followed shortly after that, and I was very surprised by their performance. I didn't know they were the musicians behind that "Take a Look at My Girlfriend" song until they came out singing it with about twenty different people, including a huge guy in a purple gorilla-ish suit. They were incredibly energetic, and their music style, half-rap, half-rock, was a refreshing change of style from the other bands that night. There was something going on every second of every song.

Finally, they cleared the stage and after a short setup time, out came "Fallout Boy."

First of all, I was surprised by their appearance. I've never been to keen on appearances of bands, and certainly didn't even know what each individual looked like. But I found their overall appearance, though they were aiming for a rock-like style, just plain cute. Is that demeaning?

The standouts of the band were definitely five-foot-three Pete Wentz, the lead guitarist, and vocalist Patrick Stump. They meandered around the stage exciting the crowds with photo ops at different angles throughout the concert. Both were also incredibly adept at interacting with the crowd and elicited plenty of laughs and positive responses.

All in all, it was worth the trouble and I actually stayed wide-awake, which is amazing considering I had slept only two hours and been put through two draining tests that day. The best part about it was definitely the very end. Before the concert started, my friend had remarked on how she hoped they played a lot of their older songs, since it was mostly what we knew. I, in turn, remarked that as long as they played my favorite song at some point, it would all be worth it.

Not only did they play it, but it was the very last song. A perfect ending.

Pumpkin Paucity

2007-11-01T21:38:00.000-05:00

I went on a mission for pumpkins to: 1. make fresh-baked pumpkin pies 2. carve pumpkins.

Yes, I realize that it's the day after Halloween. However, I celebrate holidays all out of order at the strangest times of the year. So a day past the holiday is not bad for me.

Anyway, the point is: No more pumpkins! I went to both HEB and Wal-mart, and neither place had any pumpkins. Probably one of the lowest points in my life. Sigh.

Oh! And I tried to find pumpkin pies so I could at least enjoy store-baked pumpkin pie, and nope. All out. Lesson learned: grow my own pumpkin patch.

Wristcutters: A Love Story

2007-10-31T08:51:00.000-05:00

As far as love stories go, it is a hard-pressed task to find one which doesn't leave you with the curious sensation of having sat through an excruciatingly painful ordeal. If not that, they often elicit feelings of tense awkwardness due to the usually-inevitable romance scenes.

As the title suggests, however, "Wristcutters: A Love Story," written and directed by Goran Dukic, may stray somewhat from the love film paradigm. Craftily put together through a combination of peculiar characters, even more peculiar scenes and a dryly quizzical script, "Wristcutters" will, if anything, induce feelings of complacent nostalgia for all held dear.

The story follows the journey of Zia (Patrick Fugit), a love-torn suicide, in his afterlife which, he discovers, is just his life as he had desperately tried to abandon it, only a little worse. Working at "Pizza Kamikaze" and living in a crumbled-down apartment with a roommate with who his only interaction is limited to griping about cottage cheese, Zia does nothing but relentlessly reflect on his failed relationship with Desiree (Leslie Bibb).

After an indeterminable time lapse, Zia happens upon a chance encounter with a former friend from whom he learns of Desiree's unfortunate, yet-fortunate-for-him, suicide. Imbued with a sense of newfound purpose, Zia sets off with his Russian-Rocker friend (Shea Whigham) in hopes of reconquering his lost love.

Here, however, is where the cliche love storyline culminates.

Bumbling along in a beat-up, old red car with dysfunctional headlights, the pair travels vast distances in the land of suicides searching for Desiree, along the way picking up an inquisitive young hitchiker (Shannyn Sossamon) in pursuit of her own mission. Together, the group encounters many outlandish incidents and meets seemingly apathetic people, all engulfed by the obsoleteness of the afterlife.

Yet for such a somber topic and setting, the film's array of humorous events and lines manages to keep the viewer in a hopeful, if not downright merry, mood. It is worth mentioning as well, that throughout the whole hour-and-a-half film, you never catch so much as a faint smile; in the land of suicides, apparently, smiling is physically impossible. But once again, it goes unnoticed for the entire duration of the movie, which is quite a feat.

All in all, this movie is recommended as a film for those looking for a love story diverging a little from the ordinary. Filled with unordinary concepts and carrying a dream-like quality throughout, it leaves the viewer with a fresh perspective on love and the afterlife.

Relax

2007-10-29T16:49:00.001-05:00

From all the posts about food, you would think I do nothing but eat all the time, honestly. That's okay though, because a good deal of my life does revolve around eating, and I see nothing wrong with that.

This time, however, I not only have a restaurant to recommend, but another good suggestion for a relaxing, lazy afternoon in Austin. Just head downtown, ...........Photo by: Stefan Freier
park and enjoy your day. Best
of all, the day comprises of just three easily-accessible little venues:

1. An art museum.
2. Our very own capitol building.
3. An outdoor bar and grill.

We began our afternoon by going to the Austin Museum of Art, which for the past month has housed "Extra-ordinary. Everyday Objects in American Art." This exhibit features a few artists along the likes of Andy Warhol and Claes Oldenburg. The nice thing about AMOA is that it is small enough to where you can peruse around and be about your day within half an hour because of its small size.

Which is just what we did.

Next, we walked to the Texas Capitol building. I shamefully admit that in my two years of living in Austin, I had yet to visit our dear state's capitol. The graceful and ornate interior halls all leading to the awe-inspiring apex center were like a sight to sore eyes after almost five years of not visiting. I strongly recommend going to walk around if you also have not been in a while.

After wandering inside, we headed out to the capitol grounds where we were greeted by the perfect seventy-two .....................Photo by: Stefan Freier.....................degree ....................................................................weather and lawn with plenty of shady, grassy spots on which to repose; it was a perfect opportunity to settle down with my copy of "Michelangelo & the Pope's Ceiling" by Ross King.

Sleepiness soon overcame us though, due to the overly-comfortable conditions, so we decided to abide our now-grumbling tummies.

We played it by ear and ate at the first decent-looking locale we stumbled across. The lucky recipient of our business, located on the corner of 8th and Congress, was "Hickory Street Bar & Grill.

It turned out to be way better than the rustic, run-down appearance suggested. Offering a traditionally-American array of foods such as burgers, chicken fried steak and even seafood dishes and Tex-mex. The "Avocado Veggie Burger" I had was not overly fried, on a warm wheat bun and very flavorful. I'm not even vegetarian, but I immensely enjoyed this burger as well as the home-made chips that accompanied it.

We enjoyed our meal outside on the patio tables and actually never set foot indoors. However, from what I hear half of the restaurant is underground! The pleasant afternoon dining place doubles as an upbeat sports bar at night as well.

All in all, it was a satisfyingly perfect day. Try it out sometime.

For Those Lazy Sunday Afternoons

2007-10-25T20:25:00.000-05:00

Have you ever had one of those Sundays where you wake up mid-morning, lay in bed for a while feeling quite comfortable, then finally get up with the intention of going out for a nice brunch? Then, on deciding on a place, being utterly disappointed when the place you choose is the antithesis of what you were hoping for? To save you this unbearable disappointment, I have just the place to avoid such situations.

"Matt's El Rancho," self-acclaimed, "best Mexican food in the world," in spite of having such a pretentious name, upholds this claim rather well. I must confide that I had my doubts of eating at a Mexican restaurant belonging to a "Matt." I mean, really! How much unsuitable could the name get?

From the moment you walk up to the vast, solid wood Aztec doors, you can't help but feel a little anticipation (especially when it takes you about five minutes to figure out how to open the seemingly impossible-to-open doors. Or maybe it was just me and my brunch companion).

On walking in, you immediately get the sense of having transported to a Latin-American home. The terracotta-colored floors, high peach-colored walls and black wrought-iron furniture emanates a welcoming vibe. Light lazily cascades in from the windows exhibiting the outside view.

As inviting as the interior looks, you also have the option of sitting in the just-as-welcoming, garden-esque outside patio with sprawling green vines replete with fluttering butterflies, an option of which we took full advantage.

The menu was no less impressive. At surprisingly good rates for such an elaborately-decorated place, the menu included traditional Mexican food which, upon being served, tasted even more traditional. It was like being served a full, home-cooked meal made by a small Hispanic woman. Despite ordering only two small-portion meals and a small queso, my brunch mate and I found that we were not able to finish all our food. All for $16.50!

Upon finishing our satisfying meal, we sat in the warm sun for literally an hour and a half, transfixed. We didn't even talk; we just sat there basking in the sun completely content watching the surrounding people go about their equally lazy Sunday afternoons. The sun was bright, the staff friendly, the food delicious, the setting pleasant. Yep, a good Sunday afternoon I'd say.

A Long-Delayed Explanation

2007-10-18T18:32:00.000-05:00

I realized the other day while half-asleep-thinking in my Science in Perspective class (don't ask, it's one of those St. Edward's general curriculum classes) that I failed to properly explain the background information on this blog.

So here it is:

This blog was created and is being written for my entertainment journalism class called "Critiquing the Arts." I'm actually really enjoying it. To think that I've come from scoffing at what I thought were loony English Writing majors to becoming one myself! And what's more, I'm thoroughly engrossed in it now. Willingly!

Anyway, I have a better idea of what to write about now. Aside from traditional reviews on movies, restaurants and related subjects, you will be seeing a lot of writing about art in here. As an Art major as well, I've come to realize I love writing about it as much as I like reading about it and creating it. So expect more of that in posts to come.

That's all for now. Happy reading.

P.S. I also want to say hi to my new blog buddy, Alex, and apologize if I bore him with my choice in subject.

Ryan Bingham: Mescalito

2007-10-15T21:17:00.000-05:00

As far as country singers go, Ryan Bingham is definitely not your typical western-accented cowboy.

In his 14-track album titled "Mescalito," Bingham displays a narrow range of not only vocal talent, but poetic innovation, and overall musical ability.

The CD begins with a "Southside of Heaven," a song blending together a nice, consistent guitar strumming, a smooth harmonica, and a hint of tambourine. Not a bad introduction. A minute into the song, we hear for the first time Bingham's voice.

Now, if you were expecting a typical twangy, yet soothing voice, prepare yourself for a rude awakening. In contrast to the regular smooth, even if somewhat annoying, country voices found in today's singers, Bingham's voice strongly seems to evidence signs of one too many cigars in his lifetime.

The thing is, he's only twenty-five.

Now, I acknowledge that for some people this kind of voice might be appealing. However, even if Bingham's overly scratchy voice doesn't turn you away from "Mescalito," there are plenty of other reasons that may.

Throughout all the tracks, there seems to be no deviation from this initial husky, "life has been hard for me" sound. Each song offers little variation in melody and notes and repeats three or four chords accompanied by his scratchy voice.

The songs seem never to reach climactic moment either, and it is hard to pinpoint a bridge, if one is existent. This album is definitely not the kind you find yourself singing along to; there are no catchy tunes or lyrics.

On the subject of lyrics, it is hard to tell what most of them mean. Usually, this might imply that they are deep, introspective phrases and words that take some mulling over to figure out. However, these lyrics are simply lacking. Take a look at these lines:

"Singin, Oh, my my
See them girls shake their ass underneath
the sunrise
Oh, my, my, taste the sugar on their lips
underneath that moonlight."

Not the most insightful lyrics. There are definitely bad lyrics in many country songs, but these top a good number of them.

If you're looking for a very mellow, yet somewhat distracting, album to set as background music, this CD might work for you. However, if you hope to actually get some enjoyment out of your music, I would recommend looking elsewhere.

Something Better for your Money

2007-10-08T16:43:00.000-05:00

As a college student, I inevitably see many dorm rooms and student apartments. Some shabbier, some nicer, but all alike in one aspect: they are all decorated in some fashion.

Typically, I find movie or entertainment-related posters are the choice of ornamentation, and while I'm not opposed to "Pulp Fiction" or Andy Warhol's many many works, I can't help but feel a substitution for the $20 or so paid for each poster could be better spent elsewhere.

Luckily for you, I have some suggestions!

The first was started by a couple of inspired women here in Austin who decided to address the growing problem of homeless people in the city. Fifteen years ago, they began a program called "Art From the Streets" (AFTS).

This two-day event, sponsored by the Austin Resource Center for the Homeless (ARCH), features an art sale that completely benefits the homeless individuals who submit artwork. Last year alone, the sale grossed $73,148, enough to get many artists off the streets and into homes.

Now, wouldn't you feel much better buying original artwork that you knew was directly helping better someone's life than buying another Gustav Klimt print from a random poster sale, the profits of which you had no idea were benefiting?

The artwork found at these sales is actually pretty impressive as well. Take a look at some of these original pieces:

John MonBelly (artfromthestreets.com)

Sam Cole (artfromthestreets.com)

So, yes, I strongly advise readers to invest their money in this show. It's right here in Austin, has something for everyone, and really makes a difference. The artists themselves are present at this show as well to share in the event and relate their experiences to those interested. If you don't have the money to contribute, you could also volunteer.

Another set of remarkable artists is one that, to me, is even more relatable. I take trips every so often to Guatemala, seeing as how the entirety of my family is originally from there. In the short travels I have made to various cities within the country, I have come across what are some of the most awe-inspiring works I have yet to see elsewhere.

Besides boasting a style all of its own, what I find remarkable about this artwork is the producers of it: the most humble, pleasant people I have ever met in my life. Most of them

A scene of Guatemalan Landscape
Feliciano Bal
(www.stony-hill-madison.com)

originating from remote villages that survive entirely on what little agriculture they manage to produce, they paint for the sheer pleasure of painting, and it is strongly evident in their work.

In one particular village called San Juan, accessible only by taking a twenty-minute ride across a deep blue lake surrounded by volcanoes,
I was highly distressed to find that not only had I forgotten a camera to take pictures of the astounding work I found there, but I had little money left to buy artwork. Or else, I would post pictures to substantiate
my claim that it truly was some of the most amazing work I have ever seen.

There were paintings measuring at least 5' x 3', depicting the most vivid scenes with illustrious colors of prismatic blues, greens, sunset pinks and

An Everyday Mayan Market Sale
(highroadprintcatalog.com)

oranges. You'd have to see it yourself to truly understand, but take my word for it: they are almost worth going to Guatemala solely for the reason of finding some good decoration for your home.

The best thing about them is they cost only 300 Quetzales, which in American currency is the equivalence of about $40. And to think of all the money people spend on what I term, "talentless trash."

An artist at work
(static.flickr.com)

Anyways, all this babbling does have a point: if you're going to spend money on such non-essentials, try to at least assure that it is benefiting something worthwhile. Because not only will you have a beautiful place, but a beautiful soul. You know what I'm getting at; just do it.

Save the date--and make sure it's the right one

2007-10-08T16:13:00.000-05:00

Have you ever misread your schedule and ended up at the wrong place, or the right place at the wrong time? It's great fun.

Last Saturday, I was once again reminded of just how important it is to really double-check dates. Those who know me are no strangers to my unfortunate tendency to confuse and forget things. Often.

And so it was that what seemed a promising "Black and White Cocktail Party" turned into a "let's watch a movie because it's too late to do anything at all party," when we showed up at some poor girl's apartment looking spectacular, if I do say so myself. So instead of being an hour and half late, we were actually early! By a week...

I must say, this almost beats the time I failed to mention we weren't staying at someone's apartment and showed up at their front door, sleeping bags and all.

Moral of the story: have your friends make sure you've got the date right if you, like me, are incapable of doing so yourself.

A Life Manual

2007-10-03T10:15:00.000-05:00

Now, the cliché of a life-changing book is well-known. We have all heard of that one book which has the capability of transforming life.

I am writing this, however, to discuss one particular book which, while sharing this quality with other books described as such, is much more than a life enhancement manual. "The Little Prince" by Antoine de Saint-Exupery is a book about life, how people are meant to live life, and the things that make life worth living. In this short book, Saint-Exupery manages to set up the perfect equation to a perfect world, and most importantly, a perfect life.

Writing through the perspective of a child, Saint-Exupery was able to capture the view of life through the innocence of a child. This perspective is what gives the story its pure-like quality. Reading the book, you just absorb everything it says without effort.

The story takes place in the Sahara Desert. The narrator finds himself wandering in the desert after his plane breaks down and is startled to encounter a small boy wandering as well; however, the boy seems unaffected by the fact that he is thousands of miles from civilization. “If you please—” are the little prince’s first words, “draw me a sheep.” And so begins the story of the little prince. In their time together, the little prince imparts his experiences with the narrator who learns from this little prince many lessons which, though simple, most everyone seems to have forgotten.

The little prince, originally from a small planet, named Asteroid B-612, travels to many different planets before he reaches earth. At each planet, he encounters different types of people including a tippler, a businessman, a king, a conceited man, and a lamplighter. These people are representative of people here on earth. Through exchange of a couple of words with each one of these characters, the little prince reveals a profound realization of society.

The businessman in particular is reminiscent of many people today. Adding up figures all day, the businessman is hostile towards any interruptions, merely retorting, “I am concerned with matters of consequence!” If one looks around on any given day, one can find many “businessmen.” Too many people in our busy society nowadays hurry about their lives, missing the most important things in life. The little prince, in realization of this, comments, “The grown-ups are certainly very, very odd.”

Another character that represents a good portion of the population is the conceited man. On arriving to his planet, the conceited man calls out, “Ah! I am about to receive a visit from an admirer.” Concentrating only on himself, and disregarding the little prince’s questions, he instead replaces these with questions of his own: “Do you really admire me very much?” The little prince is unable to grasp the concept of admire, and replies, “I admire you…but what is there in that to interest you so much?” People work their whole lives to achieve status and recognition, yet the question that this book poses is: what is the point of it all? Will we really improve our own self and being by gaining admiration?

Aside from recognizing the major characters in our society, however, the little prince also teaches the narrator the most important lesson of all: learning to love what you have because it is yours, a lesson of which many people seem to have lost sight. It is my belief that "The Little Prince" has the ability to change one’s outlook on life, and by doing so, life itself.

This book was amazingly written. Antoine de Saint-Exupery, both the author and the illustrator, seems to have captured the true sense of life. I would recommend this book to anyone, from the happiest person on earth as a heart-warming story, to the most unfortunate one, so that they may be comforted and realize that there is life beyond routine and ordinary days.

Good Luck Chuck

2007-09-24T18:15:00.000-05:00

As far as romantic love comedies go, "Good Luck Chuck" was definitely worth the $7.50 matinee price. While it had its expected over-the-top corny scenes, it was balanced by the ensemble of comedian Dane Cook and public-adored Jessica Alba.

The movie followed enough of the traditional storyline of an unlikely romance turned unforgettable love to keep it familiar, yet tied in a good amount of variation to keep the viewer hooked. The quirky, penguin-obsessed character played by Alba contrasted wonderfully with the nonchalant womanizer Cook plays.

Even in the company of a male majority, I realized we all found plenty to laugh at. I would definitely suggest it as a group outing; the only caution I offer is to reconsider bringing along company in the nature of younger siblings or parental-like figures, as the scenes can sometimes be a bit strong on the suggestive side. Other than that, I definitely recommend testing your own luck with "Good Luck Chuck".

Fine Line Between Porn and Horror?

2007-09-21T16:50:00.000-05:00

Last night I went and watched a movie.

Now, usually, I sit through the previews and am, at most, mildly interested. More often than not, however, I end up chatting (I swear it's quietly!) to the person beside me.

One preview in particular caught my attention, though. A horror preview. Now, we all know how those usually go: impossibly unrealistic murders, over-exaggerated drama; you know the drill. They usually make for a good chuckle.

As expected, this preview seemed ridiculous from the onset: a poor photographer who has trouble finding work due to his eccentric taste in subject matter. Then, one day, while creepily photographing a woman on a subway, in comes the usual psycho-killer and slices the woman with a hook!

It gets better.

The photographer, surely not of his own interest, but just doing his journalistic duty, keeps photographing while psycho-killer does his thing.

Long preview short, the movie is about a man with a hook who slaughters people on subways to store them in some mass human meat storage warehouse and a photographer who documents it through pictures.

Name of the movie?

"The Midnight Meat Train."

Now, I feel compelled to echo what a friend so eloquently pondered aloud: "Is this a horror movie or porn?"

I'll leave it for you to decide.

Rightfully an Austin "Classic"

2007-09-19T10:16:00.000-05:00

So, this Sunday I went to one of the many "You have to go here!" spots in Austin: Threadgill's. Honestly, before going, I thought it was a grungy seafood place featuring typical Austin Indie music.

Much to my surprise, a pleasant surprise at that, I have actually found myself planning on going back!

At the invitation of a friend, we stopped by Sunday around noon because it was the only place without a flock of what were, undoubtedly, out-of-towners surrounding the place (Thank you , ACL!). We were just in time to miss the Sunday brunch, which, on walking by looked amazing, but still in time to see most of the performance of a local blues/jazz band called "Durden Family."

What I liked most about the restaurant was the feel of being in a small cabin by a creek in Southern Louisiana. I know that sounds really random, but the heavily curtained windows, dark timber tables, floor and ceiling, and sparse spotlight lighting sure gave off that effect. Add in the Sunday Gospel music group playing when we went, and I half-expected to be served frogs and alligators.

Fortunately for us, the menu listed many classic, home-cooked kind of meals such as their "World-famous Chicken Fried Steak," "Fried Mississippi Catfish," and "Salisbury Steak." Combined with such sides as "Collard Greens," "Fried Okra," and "Scalloped Potatoes," it really makes for a good home-away-from-home kind of place.

While I'd recommend checking the different shows going on and planning your visit to Threadgill's, as there can sometimes be a cover for some shows, it's nevertheless a great place to stop by with friends and enjoy some "classic" Austin!

A Little Bit of Country Won't Kill You

2007-09-15T11:13:00.000-05:00

Ok, so, today I want to discuss something that has become a recent interest: Country Music.

For so long, I was one of the countless number of people residing in Texas who grew inflamed at the question, "So you LOVE country music, right?" I would take offense to this question, without really knowing much about it. I assumed it was just a genre full of whiny, overly sappy, annoying love songs put together by a band of talentless hicks.

This summer, however, after spending three months with close friends who listen almost exclusively to country music, I have to admit: it has grown on me.

Before continuing, I do have to point something out. I am still a novice when it comes to country music; I don't claim to know much about it. I enjoy some artists, but am still discovering the source of country music. This means I am writing this very much from the perspective of somebody who is still undergoing the transformation of country denouncer to country lover, so I can understand any antagonistic sentiments.

My purpose in writing this is to convince you to maybe give it a shot. Not for any reason other than it's fun to branch out to something you never thought you'd like every once in a while.

While there are still some songs that make me cringe from the over-exaggerated twang (I'll never like that "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy" song), there are also a good majority that I find myself singing along to! It's kind of embarrassing, yes, but hey, I'd say that artists you'd find at events such as ACL can be equally embarrassing with their overexerted effort at being "innovative" and "different."

So download some Keith Urban ("Once in a Lifetime" is a personal favorite), Dierks Bentley ("Settle for a Slowdown" is good for those somber days), or if you're willing to try something a little strong on the traditional side, give George Strait's "Wrapped" a listen-to.

You might be disgusted, you might not. At least try it out with the mindset that yes, it's supposed to overly cheesy and, yes, the accent is inevitable. Embrace living in Texas.

A Brief Introduction

2007-09-14T15:39:00.000-05:00

So, this is my first entry in a blog. I am excited about pursuing this new endeavor, but a little anxious as to what I will be writing about.

The blog title is a general idea of what I would like to write about. "L'essence de vie." Or, in English, "the essence of life."

I am a naturally good-natured person and in general, I love life. I know that is a cliche thing to say, but I think a lot of people say it without understanding what they really mean.

There are so many times a day where I stop and just think, "Wow, I love life." It's over the smallest things too, like getting to eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch in the morning.

But what is it about those times and those small things that make one so overjoyed to be living? I think it's the essence of life. But what is the essence of life?

Maybe throughout this semester or year I'll get a better understanding as to what it is that makes life, life.

I don't mean to sound so philosophical; this blog isn't meant to be overly serious in any way. Overall, I just hope to instill in others the excitement I feel every day when I wake up to be here. Wherever here may be.