Storyteller / Poet / Cinephile
Deeply obssessed with cinema and heartily opinionated about films.
And That's on Periods
I am the most embarrassing person alive. Wait. Let me rephrase that: I am the most embarrassed person alive. This is not hyperbolic. If my mind was the main vessel in Inside Out, it wouldn't be the lovely Joy leading the ship. It would be Fear because I am afraid of being embarrassed. To make matters worse, I am living as an embarrassed person despite not having done anything embarrassing today or yesterday.
So You Want to Be a Writer?
Charles Bukowski once wrote in his famous poem about writing called "So You Want To Be a Writer" that: If it doesnt come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don't do it.
We grew up together. We played the same games and watched the same movies. The songs we sang were only uplifted by our collective screaming voices. I wouldn’t want to change our late night dance parties nor the game nights complimented with piles of pizza and ice-cream. On rainy days, we danced through the street singing songs from our favorite movies. I’d scream down the muddy hill, “I’m just singin’...” While the echo from your voices replied, “Just singin’ in the rain!” On sunny days, we were pirates, captains, kings, and queens in our shared imagination. We played make-believe until Mom told us to come inside. Then other days, we’d sit alone, separate from each other but still connected by the thread of our imagination. I would read alone, Breanna played with her dogs, Bekah sang on her guitar, and Brittany filmed yet another tik-tok video. You all were my playmates. You were the people who would share my sandbox and fill it with diamonds that I still carry in my heart. But it’s the small moments that I remember the best. It’s not the big moments that flood my memory; weddings, funerals, graduations, moving-out, or job offers. It’s the moments that hide in between the big ones that lay on my heart and linger near my soul; it’s the late night adventures of driving across town to find the coolest place to count shooting stars, it’s the silent afternoons where we painted and played our ukuleles, it’s the early mornings where we realized that the only reason why we are so strong, tough, and interesting is because we’re layered with the other’s thoughts, spirit, and emotions. We used to talk about being the little women in Louise May Alcott’s book of the same name. You all named me Jo, Breanna was Meg, Bekah was Beth, and Brittany openly claimed Amy. We understood their angst, their deep desire for adventure, their ambition, and their closeness. We became the little women we saw on screen from watching the older films and then again in 2019 when Greta Gerwig released another remake of the beloved story. We were the little women in that story because our shared experience cannot ever be severed. But it is also because we all share the same underlying asset; we’re badass women.
I Want To Be a Poet But I've Never Been in Love
In Paris, there is an exclusive club of artists called The Lost Generation. Their muses sit on champagne glasses under starlit
The Magical World of Classic Hollywood Cinema
I love cinema. I am convinced it is some ethereal being or something crafted by the gods. On many of my worst days, I have only been saved by a piece of art like poetry, novels, or film. But in particular, film has assisted me in dark moments. It has climbed the walls of my heart and opened me to new thoughts, emotions, and worlds. Ultimately, film has moved me deeply. For this list, I will be celebrating films according to the mood you want to be in. Since I have been deeply moved by cinema, I want you to be deeply moved as well.
Is it a Wonderful Life?
The first time I decided to create New Year's resolutions, a pandemic cursed the earth. As a cynical and misanthropic soul that wanders modern civilization, I detested the idea of New Year’s resolutions before 2020. For one, the ritual of promising the air that I will read more or exercise more had curled my fingers into steaming red fists. Seemingly, resolutions are a primordial practice of shouting prayers to an invisible god in the sky about pleasing yourself more. While the word “resolute” hung on every tongue, I bled from my ears. The practice presented itself to me as a futile effort since life is far more complicated than achieving yearly stilted goals.
Stories My Grandfather Told Me
My grandfather passed away in September of 2020. His friends called him “Jimmy” while others liked “James.” But I always called him Papa. Before his passing, my sister’s and I rotated in shifts during the height of the pandemic to make sure he was not escaping his home to hangout with his friends. He often enjoyed walking around his neighborhood to socialize. My grandfather encompassed the phrase “social butterfly.” But he had been diagnosed with dementia and needed someone to remind him that he could not leave his house, that he needed to take his medication, and that he needed to exercise. But while I was making sure he took his daily dose of medication, he liked to tell me stories of his life. And just like any nugget of wisdom you could receive from your therapist, in books, in movies, from friends and more, the stories my grandfather told me have improved my life tenfold.
Strangers call for me but when I turn my body to wave, they scream. One leg, one arm, one eye, half a nose, and my stomach feels empty.