The Great Gatsby: Prodigal Waste

Take a classic book, make a good spin, hype it, and wait.

88 years later, good things come to those who anticipate.

The Great Gatsby film adaptation is timely for summer parties. In fact, the parties were notoriously familiar and foreign at the same time. The prodigal waste, money-in-your-face scenes made everything I wanted the 20s to be… and more. Of course, it looks staged. But you can never have too much Prada and Miu Miu in one room, or too many Tiffany’s on one girl. It was visually appealing and altogether reckless-themed. Under the helm of the same director as Moulin Rouge, it’s extreme, exaggerated, yet believable.

Leo was so great. The first scene where he introduced himself was true love in 16:9. His anger exploded on set in the scene in the hotel, but it was anger with gentleness, if that makes sense when you compare it to Django. PLEASE GIVE HIM AN OSCAR.

Now, I just need a Jay Gatsby who is a little obsessed and very infatuated. But we already have a less-lavish Tom from (500) Days of Summer to deal with.

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10 DAYS ROAD TRIP FROM WEST – MID WEST – EAST – CANADA – MID WEST.

The Royal Tenenbaums

 

I want to dress like Chas in tracksuits, smoke like Margot, and live on ships like Richie. I want to be a Tenenbaum, as badly as Eli, if not more. The Royal Tenenbaums by Wes Anderson (and Owen Wilson!) is a gem. I’m glad I made time to watch it because it is probably on my top 10 list now.

The soundtrack is crazy good, along with perfect casting. I cannot imagine another Margot better than Paltrow, or a Richie more perfect than Luke Wilson; he never looked so good as he did here.

Cinematography wise, Anderson is Anderson. The shots were great, and every frame was intended and purposed. It’s a quote fest, really. I wish I can do an analysis of the movie… it’s brilliant.

I remember falling in love with The Darjeeling Limited (2007) and now, again, with The Royal Tenenbaums. Perhaps it’s the strong characterization or the sense of adventure that draws me to the film. I wasn’t too excited for Moonrise Kingdom (2012)–I know I should get stoned for this. Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) is going to be so great, I cannot wait.  I cannot wait to fall in love with a film, its soundtrack, the cast… I cannot wait to devour the movie in parts and as a whole.

It’s a Wes Anderson film week. Appropriate for graduation.

pseudo

It’s the times when you tear away from chaos and confusion that you need words (or gestures) the most. I have two of the best cheerleaders I need in the unlikely places; quick witted and unrelenting with tough love. I am blessed because of them, both F and Z. They are dependable despite the statuses and distance. This is worth everything. This is better than the boys that hang around and the pseudo care and the half-truths.

1

I don’t know if I see you too differently from what others see, or if you treat me different–special different. I wish they can see you the same way I see you. I wish they understand it all when they look at our photo that I never posted. Because if they did, then I don’t have to bury this light.

It’s almost graduation. I’ve been ready three years ago.

island

To wake up to you is to know that I missed you and I will miss you all over again. I’ve debated if its the idea of you or, just, you. But I like this rocking between the unknowns, because honestly, what makes you sleep easier? Floating is nice…so nice. We’re practically an island. And that’s fine. We’ll have summer in the bay. It’ll be one for the books. Right now, we’ll fight our own battles with academia first. Then we’ll battle jet lag. But at least, we’ll be in the same time zone again.

the right of wrongs

Dawes probably captured every right idea of the wrong kind of situations. I struggle with the idea or the concept of things more than the person involved, mostly. After all, how many special people change? As we inch closer towards graduation, I grow increasingly afraid… of the future and of the present.

What am I doing?

It’s not the equivalent of “what will I be doing” since the unknown future is half of fear, and half of anticipation. It is the current assessment of things happening. The understanding after the scrutiny is eating at me and I can’t do anything except to try not to spiral. It’s easy not to control or try. But it’s not easy to just stop caring. So I subject myself to music and words and oblivious charms.

On a better note, I caught Place Beyond The Pines with Patience. It’s everything… soundtrack (http://open.spotify.com/album/0IB82FOYCZl4I9AlafRFAZ) and credits’ type face. We are cinephiles–more she than me–so we embraced every detail we could and left the cinema feeling better than when we first entered. Ryan Gosling and Dean Dehaan aside… Now, for Leo in The Great Gatsby.

 

You can only hold her

It’s funny how things run its course. Depleted and defeated, and there’s nothing left to love. The stars are dying. They don’t shine as bright anymore. So fade along.

He can hold her. She’ll hold him. It’s the two less-loved together that makes this the next best thing after a walk after dinner. Wrong person at the right time is a beautiful disaster. But they’ll take it, cracks and all. What else is there to seize if all has ceased? The world still spins madly on.

It’ll always always always be

I miss your bones.

More than ever, I miss everything. Even the compromises. It’s because we actually tried, which is why I cannot forgive and I cannot forget. But wounds will heal. Faster than most, for us, because even in the heat of confusion and distractions, we never said things we didn’t mean. Words, the dual-edged sword, are unyielding and irreversible.

What is good is that there are no more questions to ask or answer. There’s a certain peace in being half alive and almost lucid awake. 2011 was a good year.

If I see you again in years to come, I know this will be evergreen though it seems we have ran its course now. Our episode was good… good for me. That, too, is what you are.

Sleeping with Chicago & Waking to NYC

I’ve taken plenty of back seats; I said many yes’s when I should’ve said no’s, I accept second-rate attention, I forget what I need and go for things I want. But this week, in particular, I’ve found strength in dreaming aloud and to be in pursuit of things I desire and, possibly, deserve. Perhaps it’s the city that gives courage to dreamers and lovers alike. The skyscrapers could be parallel to ambitions, and the highways to be of the infinite opportunities. I’ve never been more inspired this week than the rest of the year thus far.

Chicago, our Gotham, remains to be somewhere I could live for a weekend. My liver would be overworked if I live in this underrated city but I can sleep to this city’s sounds. It’s no Singapore, or New York, but it’s something I need it to be. Spending the days in the shops and the nights in the hotel makes good conversations and times to be remember of. We fall asleep to the soft lights and city view, to wake up to morning bagels and cosmetic crowds. Spring break was less glitter and more laughs than 2012′s in Washington DC-Chicago.

Celebrating Patience’s 22nd at an Ethiopian restaurant with friends was a good note to end the trip with. All I think of on the ride back to the hotel was Coldplay’s Yellow. We have great footage of the weekend past. It’ll be one for the books.

Chicago will save the weekends.

New York, two and a half days in, and I’m in love, again. Despite the filth (hello, Paris), I want this city. The architecture across the grids appeal to me each and every turn. The way we chase light in NYC is insane. There’s never a dull moment.

I visited NYU campus and several departments. It’s akin to pursuing my dreams, on foot. My heart is with Boston U though I’ve not been there before. False nostalgia much. But I need options. And directions in post-grad life. Easy is Singapore. Difficult and fearful is everything else. This is also parallel to personal relationships. Fml.

I trekked, in heels, around the East Village and Greenwich Village to only stumble across the Meatpacking district and the West stretch of Lower Manhattan. Bryant Park x Grand Central Terminal. There seems to be a perpetual fashion crusade across the city and my heart stops at every cuffed ankle (or exposed ankles, sans socks, if you think about it) or leather craft. Menswear is insane, I swear. The meticulous thought put into each article of clothing is improperly proper.

I’m most excited about my trip to Brooklyn and the mile across the bridge. Tea salons for macarons are also the little joys. I’m a little sad my adventure is ending too soon. But let’s chase light and soak up the city while we still can.

Bloom

Float on… by.

All we ever thought we need should be buried deep. If there’s no desire then there’s no … whatever you’re supposed to feel.

Chicago for 4 days and NYC for indefinite nights. I need this.

Sweeping

This is the difference I’ve been waiting for; it came when I wasn’t seeking and that’s probably the best comfort to sleep on. It might not last all the morning light, but we’re not finding a way to a destination. You know what. Let’s float.

Mmhmm

I’ve never been more challenged, and attracted at the same time, by his wits and guts. I need to remember this feeling because it will dissipate thanks to impermanence. I’m giddy. But I’m fine with this haze. For the first time, in a long time, I think I’m vulnerable. And I don’t hate it.

Closer

It could be coincidental that one of my favorite few movies and songs are titled ‘Closer.’

I’m quite worn from charades and pseudo-care. There are a few good things going on now that I can revel and lean on. There is comfort, and some beauty, in the breakdown. I sleep easy and well. I probably need this comfort of the mind more than anything. I have little want of anything, and that is peace itself.

I am ready to jet out of here for Chicago and New York. Manhattan, I miss. My third, and probably final trip, is brimming with plans to do things I enjoy: strolling around Central Park, crossing the Brooklyn Bridge (the engineering whoa), enjoying the skyline, hitting my favorite restaurants… This time, visiting the universities are on my agenda too. I am only afraid I never want to leave, again.

Exhaust

It’s almost time to return home; four months more.

I’ve been on an incredible journey since 2010. Every weekend is a new discovery and new friendships forged. I’ve left my plans in the dust but they will come through before I leave this holiday land.

There are a few more cities to visit before I cruise home. I am most eager to start a new chapter for the second time. I will miss some friends but nothing is permanent.

I’ve restored my faith in myself through the trials. Today I sleep weary, and tomorrow I wake renewed. My friends with guitars and songs will approach in light. Some will bear gifts of movies and some will come with hugs. With a therapeutic snowfall brewing, I can lie here in the darkness of my exhausted thoughts and care, and be fully comfortable.

Coast

What you can’t find in one, you look for in another.

The sporadic moments when you miss the elusive and/or the tangible are the worst. They sneak up in between the intervals, the commute, the bites of boring lettuce, the steps and skips … ; they prick at your heart like a splinter.

There are two distinct subjects you may miss: what you have had and what you will lose.

We miss the weekends lost and the conversations had. We can try to relive it and chase the simplicity in the delusional shadow of replication. But we all learn about the Butterfly Effect yet not all of us learn from it.

I miss people I’ve lost to a certain degree. After which I rather be somewhere else longing. Longing comes with affection, and it’s more real (for me) because it pains, it pricks, and it bruises. You can’t jump up and run a figurative marathon after longing and pining.

But the other kind of missing is premature and scary. The looming grief blinds most of us. Hence we don’t revel in the present and we panic to make everything better on our own terms. Some find satisfaction in newly established friendship. Some seek to anchor the existing ones and casting plans into the sun. I want to be here in the moment with those who matter. Frivolity is of least interest to me. I hate patronizing too.

I miss community. I’ll miss community.

On another note, I feel like I’m missing out on the American cultural experience… approximately 1/8 shy of leaving America contented. I’ve a non-exhaustive list. That’s my problem.

Why I refuse to go into the woods.

We went into the woods once. The foliage was foreign to me because I’ve never seen the green without the clay or pottery, and it was a beautiful disarray of life.

Flowers were scattered, almost purposefully, and everything was pleasing to the eye. The wind in the leaves, the soft scampering, the raw noises… It was a great orchestra. The humidity was a curtain of gentleness draped around our skins. The sunlight that peeked through the canopy pierced the air in a certain stillness and with a still certainty.

I can only hold my breath in wonder. It’s like I’m underwater. I’m amazed and frightened.

Perhaps this is why I never venture into forests again. It is because you can never replicate the first feelings and you don’t want to try and define it.

Let’s not get started on the marine life and scuba diving. Let’s not.

Selective amour

You’re easy to love. You don’t even know.

I’m in love with a boy. But he doesn’t exist. Rather, he is an entity of my favorite guys. We met for the first time, seven times. We shared an elevator ride, we devoured literature, we people-watched at the local coffee store, we huddled in the cinema, we burned hours and cigs. I lean on him whenever I can. I lean on him whenever he is close. I’m attracted to his cologne. His collarbones are my favorite. He has the best shoes and sense of style. The dry humor. He stands on the outer pavement of sidewalks. He leads me when we cross the streets. We exchange songs and movie titles. I like your dead-pan-joke face. I like your jokes. He/you is not one specific character. And I like that.

My favorite guys are blessed with good looks, smarts, and a sense of style and taste.

I’m in love with my guy friends. And there’s no romantic intentions. I thoroughly enjoy time together and apart. I can never walk away from this.

BOYcott

The best kind of boys to have around are the ones that don’t expect you to love them (back). Reciprocation is the new selfish and it’s in demand.

Unfortunately our hearts aren’t all the same. I find myself spiraling to the ones I am familiar and intimate with. The ones that know my soul and my aspirations. The ones that know I’m not the stereotypical girl that takes thing on the surface level.

I have priorities. Heck, I do my homework on a Friday night. But I do it in perfume and my favorite clothes, even though no one’s looking. I dare say I live for myself. And this power scares some guys off. It’s okay. I only want those unafraid and caring. I have the romance I need in the cities and in the friends who appreciate words.

I sleep easy cause you’re here. I also sleep easy cause you’re not beside.

This semester won’t be easy, saying yes and saying no. But it’s not impossible. We can do without. I never told you, but the first conversation we had, is my favorite and I’ll remember you that way.