Again

It’s that time of year when one has to close the old and open the new.  Yes, gasp, big surprise… I have a new notebook all set.  And today I wrote my first entry!  Eyeball-rolling aside, I anticipate the things that will somehow find themselves on the still-blank pages.

DSTS:  May I see your other notebooks?

Er, hmm.

By this time, I’ve pretty much accepted that I won’t be living the ideal life.  You know… husband or me at home taking care of the kids (stars and garters, did I just write that in plural?), no-hassle commutes to and from work, dinner by 7:00 PM. 

Who am I kidding?  DSTS will always be the worrywart who’s obsessed with broadening the network and selling (because it’s the “ultimate survival skill”) and buying things of value for the sliverest fraction of its original price.  He eats only when the busy schedule permits, and leaves his fork and spoon or knife helter-skelter on the plate after demolishing every bit of food and drink (including mine) in 2.5 seconds flat. 

I’ll always be semi-autistic and not making like your friendly neighborhood Avon lady even if my life depended on it. Buying things that appeal to me, like pens.  And notebooks.  And Italo Calvino reprints.  Hoovering food because life is now (and slowly, the better to savor the taste, and in accordance with our grandfather’s version of Emily Post).  My motto has always been a mishmash of a lot of things, though I’ve always concluded they’re under one big umbrella of the omnipresent bahala na. 

I do wonder how things crosshatch and end up like they do.  Is it Divine Providence?  The Bermuda Triangle?  Yes, it’s also this time of year when I look back and check how things have been done. We’ve had things pretty good, considering.  Right, DSTS?  Right?

DSTS: Shh!  My son heard you and is now worrying for his future.

Sigh.  Welcome, 2008!  Hope you’ll be good.

Radioactive Bugging, Again

Spider-Man 3 sounds insane, and I can’t wait for a decent DVD to see just how insane — don’t have much choice now, do we… Poor, Poor Village and all.  As with many fan geeks, I have a love-hate relationship with Hollywood adaptations of books and comicbooks.  In Spider-Man’s case it started with the casting.  Let’s illustrate.  In the comicbooks, here’s how Peter Parker’s usually drawn by pencillers:

    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At one point in history, Mike Deodato even modeled Peter after pictures of Jason Priestley.  Now here’s who’s casted to play him:

 

 

 

 

And as if that wasn’t enough, below shows how comic nuts usually identify Harry Osborn:

And this is he on film:

The spider sense tells me of a nefarious switcheroo.  How much did Tobey Maguire’s agent bribe Stan Lee?  Did James Franco piss someone off in the casting crew, thereby relegating him to the role of what originally was the heroic geek’s geekier-looking friend who sported what looked like funky midget cornrows?  It was a good thing the official hairstylist was apparently moved by the beauty of Franco’s luscious locks and desisted to be faithful to canon coiffure on account that this miscasting was sacrilege in the first place.

The creators expounded on wanting to emphasize Peter Parker’s geekiness when the first installment explored Spider-Man’s origins, and Tobey projected things just right.   Okay, Tobey does breathe geek in his sleep, but he’s kind of a boring actor (same tricks, it seems, on almost everything… Pleasantville, Cedar House Rules, Seabiscuit…), and I was just turned off by eventual reports of him kind of holding out for the role allegedly because he wanted to ask for a higher salary after it finally hit him the first movie unexpectedly did well at box office, and he cited a (possibly blown-up) gajillion of injuries from doing the stunts to back up his demand.  What a lame play, and of all excuses.  Like, if freaking Zhang Ziyi could sign her contract, meekly do all her Yuen Wooping stunts when Zhang Yimou tells her to, and still wind up looking like this on a ladies’ night out?  Just shut up, Grampaw. 

On getting casted as Mary Jane Watson, the character who eventually married Peter Parker in the comic books, Kirsten Dunst hardly looks like the top fashion model she was supposed to be.  Also, Dr. Tom Medicine Woman was dead on when she observed Kirsten is Billy Corgan — with hair and shiny lipgloss — because if you will please:

I am glad, though, that the movie franchise went with the family friend thing MJ Watson was in the book, and the confused childhood and teen years she had… she was a sad, bad girl who found redemption.  And though Kirsten was never the traditional classically beautiful ingenue, she more than made up for good looks with an earnestness with her roles, including this one. 

The script had Mary Jane Watson figure in the infamous Brooklyn Bridge scene where Gwen Stacy, who was Peter Parker’s original first girlfriend in the comicbook series, plunged to her death after being held hostage by the Green Goblin.  Definitely a big TNHIWOP! (that’s not how it went on paper!) factor, however, the creative team pulled the changes off without making things too forced or sometimes bordering on stupid, like what happened to the X-Men adaptations. 

So the characters on film developed and surprisingly they went down fine.  The script was all right, and the actors did well with the delivery.  Many friends thought the CGI web-swinging scenes were a little over the top, but I don’t know.  I kind of liked them, especially the ending on 1.  We dealt in our shallowly fashion: Peter’s gosh-darn mopey, but he’s a whiney nerd who didn’t deserve the very cool Uncle Ben, so fine.  Let him mope.  James Franco is SO not right for Harry Osborn (keeps checking the comicbook), but… SO CUTE!  MJ Watson — okay… she seems serious about liking Peter despite the fact that he’s a nerdy loser and Harry’s hot.  We’re nerds, we like nerds, right?  Non-whiney nerds, that is, and well, whatever.  She looks cluelessly in love, and true love’s so adorable, never mind it’s Tobey Maguire she’s macking with.  Let’s just awww… and get it over with, job well done to those three, and wow, Alex Ross paintings in 2.  Acceptance was inevitable, I was moved, I got carried away with their enthusiasm, and everything’s nicely digested by the time Peter and MJ hug with goo-goo eyes, right?

Then I find that in 3, Sam Raimi and Co. had a brilliant idea.  Phoom!  They recruit GWEN STACY to the motley crew to figure into what was a normal love triangle but is now, like, spatially dimensional.  Gwen Stacy, the girl who the Green Goblin originally pushed off the bridge and Spidey just had to save her by webbing, only for her to snap her neck or something, or maybe she was dead by the time Spidey arrived on the scene!  I was wrong to think Gwen was, like, cancelled out already given Mary Jane was picked to fall off the bridge, but not snapping her neck or anything (and she does not die and hooks up with Peter despite the presence of James Franco after many twisty turns).  And now she pops out of nowhere and she’s the other woman.  And she’s played by a narf.

Okay?

I wonder why they picked Gwen Stacy to complicate things between Peter and Mary Jane to keep the interest in their thing from tanking.  I mean, why not Felicia Hardy, who moonlights as the Black Cat?  The creators of the TV animation series didn’t exactly follow the canon storyline either, but Felicia Hardy worked out just fine in that love triangle mix… she’s a fun girl without the Black Cat persona, she acquires probability-altering powers, and she’s got hidden agenda and skeletons in her closet.  What, the contrast will be too much for mopey, aw-shucks film versions of Peter and MJ? 

I always thought Gwen Stacy was too one-dimensional, but that’s the product of writers during her stint as official girlfriend.  She was replaced by Mary Jane in media incarnations precisely because the Gwen was conceived in the age of comics when women were still stereotypically presented as damsels in distress, and this particular damsel was killed off, anyway, like Namor’s Lady Dorma, preventing character development.  In contrast, Sue Storm, Betty Brant, Jean Grey, Trish Tilby, and other super or non-super Marvelettes who lived or were killed off but brought back to life several times out of the 60s were morphed from Donna Reed and Marcia Brady clones to tougher femmes through the years.  Gwen Stacy never left the 60s.  But then this is Hollywood Marvel.  Perhaps there will be a Spider-Man 4 in which Gwen Stacy will mutate into something.

But that’s not all.  We have… the Sandman!  For convenience, they made him the same thug who killed Uncle Ben!  We also have Venom!  In the comic book, Spidey got the oozey symbiote when he helped the Fantastic Four, Avengers, X-Men, and other Marvel superheroes fight in the Secret Wars.  In space. The ooze followed him back, eventually binding with him until he started crossing to the dark side.  He finds out the symbiote was making like Glenn Close in Fatal Attractions.  He goes back to the Fantastic Four for help; Mr. Fantastic used a sonic thingamajig to drive the alien away, but the alien escapes and stealthily bonds back with Peter Parker again, so finally Spidey had to drive himself to the church tower so the loud bell clangs separate them again.  Film version: the symbiote fell from the sky, having hitchhiked on an asteroid chunk, and yadda-yadda, more or less the same thing happens plus the Gwen Stacy brilliant idea and minus the part with the Fantastic Four.

After Peter’s rejection, the symbiote eventually finds Eddie Brock, a tabloid beat guy and part-time body builder whose familiar physique/countenance is, on average, like so:

   

Naturally they picked Topher Grace to best bring the bad-assed hardknock to life:

Do you get how these money-makers make money now?  Maybe that’s why I’ll never make money the way the money-makers do.  Anyway, that picture above was circa Ashton B.D. (before Demi) and Wilmer B.L.L.A.M.M. (before Lindsay Lohan and Mandy Moore).  But again, for most of Hollywood Marvel, what’s looks got to do with it?  Take Jennifer Garner, she looks nothing like Elektra’s Greek bone structure, exotic eyes and olive skin, and she managed to work the damn sai anyway.  Wolverine’s a well-packed 5 feet 3 inches, and Hugh Jackman was taller than James Marsden’s Cyclops, and Cyclops was supposed to be 6 feet 3.  Storm should be a majestic 5′ 11″ who’s into wisdom and intone words exchanged in battle like Iman or Grace Jones would, and they give us wispy Halle Berry with a bad wig who chose Marilyn Monroe’s breathey “Happy Birthday, Mr. President” to project that she’s gonna whup goons’ butts.  Dr. Doom is Mr. Fantastic’s diabolical and most brilliant arch nemesis — it’s the battle of the nerds here — and how cool was it that he was played by that smarmy demon in Charmed, and got exposed to the same rays the FF went through and wielded electromagnetic powers as a result in the movie?  Then he goes down just like that?  Where’s the dignity here, people. 

Anyway, hope I can check out Spider-Man 3 soon, lots of good reviews from pals (but unfortunately, M, who’s a worse comic geek than anyone I know, opted out of the Friendster loop.  His reviews should be interesting.  Come back to the F’loop, M, come back!).  And what if there will be a Spidey 4?  What more can we expect?  Wait… I forgot we’re considering insane displacements here.  Bryce Dallas Howard said it’s possible Gwen’s a future girlfriend.  How about Gwen Stacy becoming the Black Cat!?  The original alter-ego, Felicia Hardy, may or may not figure in — maybe it will be Gwen’s alias.  Maybe Peter will be more screwed up because of Venom than he thought, go stalker on her and she’ll go under a witness protection program like Mary Jensen.  Who cares?  It’s the movies.  How about Jonathan Lipnicki or Mary-Kate Olsen bagging Carnage, and Paul Giamatti playing the Kingpin?  The possibilities boggle the mind.

Far To Go

I was born on a Thursday, and, according to that batty nursery rhyme, I have “far to go.”  It was a subject of personal convolution: does this bode well, meaning I will go far in life, or does it mean the opposite — that life will throttle then fling me far and away, so it’s literally far to go before I get to my goals?  So typical mine is vague when those pieces on Monday’s and Tuesday’s kids are so obvious, Wednesday’s is, without a doubt, screwed; Friday’s child takes after the day’s deitic namesakes and should have no problem advocating free love and everything touchy-feely, Saturday’s child inspired a Donna Summer hit, and finally, Sunday’s is simply all that.  What a queen.  Anyway, I’m betting the poem meant the second possibility, since the verse about Thursday’s should match Wednesday’s like Tuesday’s did Monday’s.  Hmp.

I usually get annoying cramps a day or two before the usual suspect settles in.  The problem was usual suspect did not come, and yet the cramps went on for five days (and counting)! I was about to bring matters to Aunt Advil because it was getting to the point of driving me nuts, but it was an out of the ordinary occurrence, so working on a hunch, I went for the stick that was behind the “Break In Case Of Paranoia” glass instead, and, after a necessary trip to Honkytown two days later, it’s officially confirmed: a possible FedEx package is on the way, and it’s not the cake.

DSTS and I are ecstatic… and kind of surprised, but it’s a welcome surprise!  Weeks after he went back to work following Dozer_21′s orientation on China and a week spent in Poor, Poor Village with me, I kind of noted some signs, though it could have been stress again, and I told him not to tell the moms yet — his mama was kind of hoping and sending out feelers for several years now, and false alarms can really dampen things.  But ever practical, DSTS told her anyway and instructed to just “wait for her news.”  His mama passed it on to my mama and maybe crossed fingers.  So when I finally called them, there was no yelling much, more like, “Whew.  And yay.  Er, good show, child.”  We’re so efficient that way.

Now here it is, and well, hooray!  Hooray, and no jumping.  And no upchuck reflexes yet, though not exactly looking forward to that.  NO.  Now if only the darn cramps would go away already so I can finally attempt matching my face to how I feel.

Cold, Red Incense, And Blur

Many Western cultures, including countries that once were under Western rule, celebrate Christmas to honor peace and goodwill to humankind. 

Originally, though, these nations were among the cultures who practiced polytheistic religions that more or less resembled and sprung from the Indo-European culture, which pervaded in Mesopotamia, Assyria, India, and all the way to Norway, Gaul, Greece, Rome, and other European countries in antiquity.  This explains why the gods in mythology sometimes resembled one another in function (i.e. Odin, Zeus, and Jupiter; Venus, Cybele, and Freya; Isis, Kali, and Kwannon).  Egyptian gods are also similar except for roles of some male and female deities that were reversed compared to those in most other cultures, earning ancient Egyptians a reputation that they did everything backwards.

It has been said from the great deserts sprang forth three great monotheistic religions: Islam, Judaism, and Christianity.  Islam and Judaism pray to one God only; Islam may have the prophet Mohammed, but he is not one Moslems pray to or worship.  In contrast, Roman Catholic faithfuls practice praying to patron saints in addition to the one true God.  Given it was originally transited from a polytheistic religion, and minor deities evolved to names of minor ‘saints’ to aid ‘conversion’ while retaining the deitic identities for the originally pagan races.

There are other Christian groups who do not observe the worship of saints.  However, they also recognize the belief in the Holy Trinity — Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost, which is a comparatively more complex attempt to understand the one true God, and an essential component to Christian worship, including Roman Catholicism.  It is why I think, technically, and if you prefer to take things literally, the genuinely monotheistic religions today are only two: Islam and Judaism.

After the concept of Christianity was integrated into the existing Indo-European, polytheistic cultures as imposed gradually by leader of the vast empire, Constantine the Great.  The Christmas day we know was picked by the Roman Catholic Church.  In addition to the fact that Romans used transposition for their saints and feast days, the Jewish people also use an entirely different system for their calendar.  Therefore it is not likely December 25 is the exact commemorative date for the birth of the man we know as the Christ.  Christmas was originally a holiday celebrated in the West to honor Tammuz, the Indo-European deity identified with cyclical regeneration (he dies!  He lives again!), whose ‘mythic’ life integrates a love story with romantically suicidal self-castration!  If you check medieval holidays, there are other days with pagan origins most of which, like Christmas, evolved into Christian celebrations such as The Summer Solstice, Carnivale, Easter, Halloween, Martinmas, the Advent, Michaelmas, and Candlemas.

Islam does not celebrate Christmas, or even honor Christ as the deliverer of the People as Christ is descended from family patriarchs that, technically, cheated Ishmael from his birthright to Abraham’s clan, and Moslems believe Mohammed is the prophet who showed the people the Way.

The Jews, however, also don’t celebrate Christmas.  For one, they have not determined that Jesus is the Messiah.  The Jews were expecting the Messiah as a King as glorious as David, not someone who died, and then had the death interpreted as someone who ‘died for the sins’ of all, including Gentiles.  Secondly, if you check the books, most accounts of Jesus have not been actually detailed by Jesus himself, but by people who witnessed Jesus and his works. 

The most notable deviation from the traditional Jewish faith is the way life should be lived according to the records and letters written by the apostle Paul.  His philosophy talked of salvation for all — not only people of the faith, but including Gentiles, or the traditional heathens who did not observe customs dictated by God and recorded in the Torah.  It is also interesting that Paul and Jesus Christ never met; the apostle said he was inspired by the Holy Ghost to eventually convert from a consistent Christian persecutor to a Christian champion.  Perhaps these are reasons that contribute to doubts regarding Jesus as the true Messiah in Jewish tradition.

A slice of history that partially explains some of the great divides that we can never fully understand… but December 25 serves well to call many nations to remember peace and love and family and friends, at least once a year.  Merry Christmas to all.

                                                                           *****

DSTS, recovering from a fever, is still sniffling, and yet there he is with a mug of ice cream.  Great, man.  We headed off his day with an earlier visit to a church, a temple and mad rush visits to elders to pay respects to before they head off to their holidays with family and friends.  It’s like the Amazing Race, only we have no allowance from Phil and it’s hell to commute now.  Next week I’ll be lining up for government paperwork.  Hopefully some offices are still functional?  And I just realized I’ve been home for a week!  With a new SIM card!  And I haven’t received a phone call from the Bat Phone!

Okay… should I be thankful, or expect a dark cloud of foreboding looming over my head?

PS — Three cheers for the Liempo, now older and infinitely wiser.

Crossed

I’ve been mulling over the phrase ‘star-crossed lovers’.  It now seems so simple when one can just say, “Oh, Romeo and Juliet?  Star-crossed.”  Doesn’t look much like a cool metaphor now, but it is, being coined by Shakespeare… and how many twists and turns permutated from that one single piece of classic English lit while I hoped the class instructor would hurry up and touch on the role of the clergy in that story’s pre-age-of-consent teen marriage and suicides already?  Read on.

First, the definition given the context of above example.  Simply put, star-crossed lovers are individuals involved in a romantic or passionate relationship but are just not meant to be, despite their persistence to overcome all odds to be together.  Prerequisites are:

1. Lovers are totally in love with each other
2. Lovers do everything in their power to be together
3. Lovers do not get their way despite Item Number 2; either both go on with life but miserable and not together, or one of them dies. Better yet, both die.

Next, we discuss the words.  The ‘star’ symbolizes destiny, piece of cake.  But ‘cross’ is easily open to interpretation so it’s best we make sure which cross we’re talking about.  At one time it was thought to be ‘to intersect’, and the brain cells were all, what’s the big deal with being star-crossed? The stars crossed paths already, what more do they want?  Shakespeare, however, meant ‘crossed’ as ‘thwarted’.  As in, the stars — the destinies — screwed them over.  And when the light bulb dinged, the call to arms to amend the terminology to ‘star-paralleled’ became unnecessary…

… Okay, I admit, if that last part’s familiar, I can only say it can be traced back to a compendium of madly brilliant ideas that is otherwise known as the high school yearbook. What panache… what imagery!  We were way beyond compare.  Meanwhile, the text beside my picture — my contribution to the mad brilliance — brings DSTS to tears.

Reviewing the Star-Crossed For Dummies notes, we can now confirm people who make the star-crossed list.  Siegfried and Kriemhilde, star-crossed.  Count Laslo and Katharine, star-crossed.  Zagato and Emeraude, star-crossed.  Jack and Rose are star-crossed, Othello and Desdemona are star-crossed… Lancelot and Guinevere also count as star-crossed, but to a lesser degree as they both give up the passion before the mess worsened.

Lancelot and Elaine, not star-crossed.  I mean, sure, there’s the against all odds, do or die obsession, there’s a love child, even, and someone dies!… but the relationship develops only with the aid of a love potion, and the true love is only on one side — Elaine’s.  It’s similar to the unfortunate mess Madama Butterfly was in.  Lesson learned: love potions are the anti-star-crossed, and Elaine, instead, is a pro-active, results-oriented lover who dared laugh at destiny’s face.

Tristan and Isolde are a tricky couple because according to tradition, there’s that love potion again, brewed by Isolde’s grandmother was sent with Isolde’s nurse when King Mark sent for the princess so they could get married.  The potion was meant to be drunk by Isolde and King Mark to ensure the union of two kingdoms, but the nurse carelessly left the bottle someplace, and Tristan and Isolde accidentally drank the stuff together while on board the ship bound for King Mark’s territories.  If there were no love potion, there’d be no love affair; they’re more like clueless kids with bad luck than genuine star-crossed lovers.  It’s also probably why I found the movie starring James Franco, in which the love potion concept was nixed, all the more satisfying for the ‘star-crossed’ thing.  Lesson learned: love potions are the anti-star-crossed, we learned in the previous example of non-star-crossed, but no lover is pro-active in this story.  Instead we have a nurse, an example of slacking individuals in the workplace who deserve to be hung, drawn, and quartered as expected by someone as mafioso as Isolde’s grandmother.  And we never know what we’ve got till it’s gone, because in this modern day and age, we can only fire the idiots and content ourselves with writing fabulously stinky referrals.

I don’t think the Brokeback Mountain boys exactly fit ‘star-crossed’, too, because Ennis wasn’t gung-ho at all, and actually wimped out due to his issues. Compare him to Boys Don’t Cry‘s take on Brandon Teena, who also had things to work out on his/her own… now that’s certifiably star-crossed, big time!  Like I said, wimped. Yes, E. Annie Proulx set the original short story in a time when people were more repressed to come out, but the main thing is, Ennis did his part in unrealizing the possibilities with Jack himself, and because he hesitated, we can’t totally blame destiny that they were bummed for the rest of their mortal lives.  Lesson learned: wimpy lovers are the anti-star-crossed, too — they are results-oriented people who thwart destiny’s crossings by not defying their destinies ON PURPOSE.  If you’ve been psyched your whole life to do the star-crossed thing but instead find yourself with a wishy-washy one true love, run away.  Reevaluate your options and plot for more viable star-crossed contingencies.

To end this day’s convolution, ‘star-crossed’ alludes to astrology, which are part of Indo-European culture, and so we keep things Indo-European and pull in the horoscopes to mix up with what was discussed. I present to you the concept of ‘star-crossed’ with chop-suey references, illustrated by a theory on the origins of Anakin and Padme Skywalker.

Anakin and Padme were destined to be each other’s great love, but they come from different worlds.  When Padme was still in her mother’s womb, her mother continued to engage in daily debate with the Senate, which made the baby opt to stay in the womb much longer than necessary that her birth finally had to be induced. Five earth years later, Anakin’s mother, a pregnant slave on Tatooine, was scheduled to haul junk for Watto on the consecutive months his suppliers will cruise by.  Being pregnant is no excuse, though, and Watto then paid a doctor to induce an early birth so Mrs. Skywalker can pop the baby into an incubator — which might’ve accounted for the abnormally high concentration of midichlorians in the baby — and work right on schedule.

And so because of pro-active, non-divine interventions, Padme, who was conceived to be a Yeebek* (Naboo’s equivalent for Taurus), somehow still managed to be born within the Yeebek days, though all planetary alignments got messed up.  And Anakin, who was supposed to be a Joog** (Tatooine’s Capricorn), became a Weggo*** (Tatooine’s Sagittarius).  The love was doomed from the start.

Star-crossed: a new take.

PS — Happy birthday, Ma. I promise to never teach literature for the children’s sakes.

PPS — The part about the Skywalkers and *, **, and ***  are neither canon nor endorsed by Mr. Lucas.