Dear Friends,
I would really appreciate it if you all took good care of yourselves, and stayed out of situations where you have to be hospitalized, see specialists, visit the ER, undergo surgical procedures, or be in other such situations. Thank you.
Love, Cynthia
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
High Culture? Pop Culture? What is this?
Another one of those "What Would Adorno Say?" moments. I found this video of 13-yr-old self-taught violinist Justus Rivera on the Ellen show. Ashton Kutcher apparently discovered him, posted the vid and Twittered about it, making Justus Rivera the latest in pop sensation.
What's interesting in this case is the meshing of what we've normally considered high culture (violin being a rather high-culture instrument - one that people spend years and years on perfecting) and pop (or, to make the binary distinction, low/vulgar) culture (he played "Smooth Criminal" on Ellen). Keeping in mind he was "discovered" by Ashton Kutcher, and his video on Ellen is now everywhere on cyberspace, aren't there very strong strands of power and reputation at play here? The attention he got was not really by merit (I'm not going to say he's a good or a bad violinist, since I think there are way too many ways to go with that one - what is conventional, what is experimentation, thank you, Howard Becker), but by a chance encounter with someone who wields a lot of attention-getting power.
That's all for now. I need to find some better way of making my thoughts coherent.
What's interesting in this case is the meshing of what we've normally considered high culture (violin being a rather high-culture instrument - one that people spend years and years on perfecting) and pop (or, to make the binary distinction, low/vulgar) culture (he played "Smooth Criminal" on Ellen). Keeping in mind he was "discovered" by Ashton Kutcher, and his video on Ellen is now everywhere on cyberspace, aren't there very strong strands of power and reputation at play here? The attention he got was not really by merit (I'm not going to say he's a good or a bad violinist, since I think there are way too many ways to go with that one - what is conventional, what is experimentation, thank you, Howard Becker), but by a chance encounter with someone who wields a lot of attention-getting power.
That's all for now. I need to find some better way of making my thoughts coherent.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
One of the best experiments ever
I read this back when this experiment first happened. Joshua Bell stood in a DC metro station and played for 43 minutes, and the Washington Post had a field day observing how people would react to one of the best violinists in the world playing music as a street musician during rush hour (next to a trash can, to top it off).
This is great to go back to because it raises questions of high culture, pop culture, and whether we're trained to appreciate music when it's displaced from its conventional setting and plopped down in a lowbrow type area. I think we're forced to start questioning this whole idea of high and low culture, what makes them different, and stop working under the assumption that certain types of art or culture is high or low. It's all just socially constructed.
What's interesting also is the clearly elitist position the Washington Post takes in this article - almost an elitist prank to play on the public (from a gaze and power perspective - they're watching, but we don't know they're watching). It's approached with the preconceived hierarchy that classical music is somehow above other forms of music...and ESPECIALLY music that is normally played in metro stations.
This is great to go back to because it raises questions of high culture, pop culture, and whether we're trained to appreciate music when it's displaced from its conventional setting and plopped down in a lowbrow type area. I think we're forced to start questioning this whole idea of high and low culture, what makes them different, and stop working under the assumption that certain types of art or culture is high or low. It's all just socially constructed.
What's interesting also is the clearly elitist position the Washington Post takes in this article - almost an elitist prank to play on the public (from a gaze and power perspective - they're watching, but we don't know they're watching). It's approached with the preconceived hierarchy that classical music is somehow above other forms of music...and ESPECIALLY music that is normally played in metro stations.
Monday, September 21, 2009
I tell you good fortune
Grace sent this one to me today. Discouraging to think that many people still download it - ahh, the normalization of the Chinese/Asian "ching-chong"ness in our society... because, you know, we chinks go around saying "ching-chong" all the time and spout cheesy philosophical (albeit translated) words of Confucius (since he's China's ONLY historical thinker), and that makes complete sense to us.
http://gawker.com/5364440/iphone-gets-first-racially-offensive-app
http://gawker.com/5364440/iphone-gets-first-racially-offensive-app
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Music vid from "The Guild"
Looks like Joss isn't the only sardonic talent in the family. "Do You Want To Date My Avatar" made by Jed Whedon, is based on the web series, The Guild. Great commentary about anonymity and disembodiment and identity on the Internet. The concept is a bit outdated, but it's still a cool video.
I haven't seen The Guild yet. Looks like I'll need to.
I haven't seen The Guild yet. Looks like I'll need to.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Thoughts on "Stuck Elevator" - a one-man operatic musical
*may be updated later as more thoughts come as I digest*
**Spoilers Ahead! Be warned.**
At first glance, it's a simple story. A Chinese delivery man gets stuck in an elevator after his last delivery of the night. But this, my friends, is a one-man operatic musical.
Based on the story of Ming Kuang Chen, "Stuck Elevator", composed by Byron Au Yong and written (libretto) by Aaron Jafferis (artists-in-residence for the Asian/Pacific/American Institute at NYU) is a journey through the three days our psuedo-superhero, Kuang, is stuck in an elevator, hungry, waiting for help. On a deeper level, it works as a metaphor for the invisibility of undocumented Chinese workers in American society and, through the story of one man, examines how identity, societal position, and a yearning for home and family are constantly in negotiation and in tension.
I had the privilege of seeing "Stuck Elevator" workshopped tonight at the brand new Museum of Chinese in America (MoCA) in Chinatown. What a fitting place for the premiere workshop of this piece. Packed house. Actor Stephen Eng performed the part of Kuang. And there was a live orchestral group as well that consisted of cello, violin, and percussion.
Workshops are generally meant to be for works-in-progress and to provide the creators with feedback, which we did, and which I will continue to do here (in hopes that Byron and Aaron read this at some point). I feel like this piece is really close. Anyway, here are some of my thoughts, categorized somewhat loosely:
Music:
Great mix of Chinese traditional music, Western music, and a contemporary/experimental style. It organically melds the different musical styles so you don't really notice them. Very enjoyable listen, with catchy tunes that stick in your head long after you leave the show. The most important thing about the music is that while it's certainly not conventional (original stuff here, people), it's accessible. It pushes boundaries, yet doesn't alienate the audience.
Language:
This aspect is particularly interesting. Reminded me a bit of the Joy Luck Club, or Kiterunner, in that, through the process of allowing a character for whom English does not come easily (or, in Kuang's case, almost at all), it is an ironic process of un-Othering the Other (in this case, a Chinese delivery man, a person who would otherwise be put in the position of a foreigner in America), and allowing the audience to fully relate to his plight.
I did find that understanding Chinese makes the script very poignant.
Symbolism and Politicism:
Hugely present. The metaphor of Kuang as a food that America swallowed, and the elevator as a metaphor for the belly of America from which he cannot escape (for shame of going back to his country) is sustained throughout the show. The invisibility of his situation, and the fact that no one could hear/find/SEE him, merely emphasizes how these service workers, who more often than not are undocumented immigrants who come to America in hopes of a better life, are unseen in our society. They don't matter. There's a double meaning here too - they don't really exist - they don't have papers, and in our paper-obsessed society (where nothing is real unless it's "on paper", as Derrida talks about in "Paper Machine"), they're not really here. So, in essence, they're invisible both in the eyes of our official system, as well as in the unofficial day to day happenings in society. This speaks to a much greater, ongoing issue of Chinese in America and the foreignness of people with Asian face, whether they are from Asia or born in America.
Most Memorable Moments for me (I apologize if I mis-describe the titles):
The hunger piece:
Reminiscent of spoken word, this piece involves a rhythmic whispering in the background with Kuang talking over it. This piece is one of the very few moments in the show where anger is felt. It's a powerful piece, emphasizing the invisibility and non-acknowledgment of Chinese undocumented workers in America, but how important they are in the service sector of New York.
Takeout Man:
A catchy tune about Kuang envisioning himself as a superhero. The only thing I would say about this is that, unlike the other songs, this one repeats the chorus around 4 times.
Thank You - Kuang talks to various Chinese dishes (orange beef, General Tso's chicken, etc) and thanks them for making him money. This is the first song of the show, and there is a reprisal near the end. It nicely bookends the show, in which we see Kuang slowly become less human (yet, at the same time, less of an Other) - personifying food, dehumanizing Kuang, bringing them to a plane of synonymy.
Peeing Himself - to me, this is the seminal moment of Kuang's dehumanization. And Kuang struggles with holding it in, to hold on to his humanity.
THE ENDING
The ending requires its own section, since we ended up having a discussion about this during the Q&A. The show ends with the light showing Kuang laying on the ground after having peed and stabbed himself, hungry, thirsty, unheard, and generally invisible. An audience member made the comment that he would have liked to see a "Hollywood ending" - or rather an ending where Kuang is not positioned in such a defeated posture (ambiguity notwithstanding). He was supported by another audience member who would have liked to hear jingling or elevator bells or something to indicate that there is hope. Everyone was in agreement that we don't necessarily have to see the doors open. But there was something this side of the debated wanted to keep alive - hope. Hope was something Kuang kept alive throughout the show, and I understand the desire to see that hope linger long after the curtain is drawn.
But I disagree with that, and I will use the idea of manufactured consent (of course - my favorite buzz word) to explain why I feel like the ending works as is. Throughout the show, the story allows the English speaking audience (read: American audience) to relate to Kuang, our protagonist (certainly an important positioning even as a one-man show), as a real, three-dimensional person. It allows us to feel what he feels, to know his thoughts and dreams, to experience his yearning for his family, his shame at the thought of returning to China without honor. He becomes visible to us - we see him, not only on a mental and emotional level, but on a physical level. He's present in our minds and eyes. This is a process of un-Othering the Other - to make him less foreign to us. He becomes an Us - part of the in-crowd.
I understand wanting an ending that doesn't seem so hopeless, but I fear any sort of "transcendent" or "hopefulness" would blind us to the reality of the plight of Chinese immigrants in America. We would leave the theatre feeling, well, hopeful. And that's not always the case with these Chinese immigrants. Leaving the theatre hopeful, more content than one would with the current despairing ending, will lead to the feeling that everything will be ok - because we're America, of course. What's that? I like to call it Manufactured Consent (I believe Gramsci was the first to use the idea broadly, Chomsky wrote a book with that title, and Adorno and Horkheimer used it to lament pop culture), or false contentment. Because people who are content do not revolt or rebel, and hence keep those in power IN power. This is why we like happy endings. We have the feeling that everything will be ok. We feel less pain, less violence.
Having Kuang placed in such a defeated position at the end is heartbreaking. It's a blow to the stomach. All that hope he had might all be gone. As idealistic as this may sound, but perhaps that violence to our psyche, that heartbreak, that pain, is the push we need to affect change, to bring awareness to these undocumented Chinese immigrants, to bring awareness to the invisibility of the Asian face in American society, to not let our history of Asians in America be written as merely "the absence of Asians in American history." (something I believe Ronald Takaki said, but I'm a bit too tired to look it up right now)
I did, however, like Jack's suggestion that the doors can open at the end and the next Chinese delivery man steps in as Kuang leaves, showing that the vicious cycle only repeats itself.
(disclaimer: all progress being made in other directions and vectors notwithstanding)
All in all, I think this is going to be something well worth seeing. I'm excited to see how this will evolve over the next few months. The next workshop will be in November.
**Spoilers Ahead! Be warned.**
At first glance, it's a simple story. A Chinese delivery man gets stuck in an elevator after his last delivery of the night. But this, my friends, is a one-man operatic musical.
Based on the story of Ming Kuang Chen, "Stuck Elevator", composed by Byron Au Yong and written (libretto) by Aaron Jafferis (artists-in-residence for the Asian/Pacific/American Institute at NYU) is a journey through the three days our psuedo-superhero, Kuang, is stuck in an elevator, hungry, waiting for help. On a deeper level, it works as a metaphor for the invisibility of undocumented Chinese workers in American society and, through the story of one man, examines how identity, societal position, and a yearning for home and family are constantly in negotiation and in tension.
I had the privilege of seeing "Stuck Elevator" workshopped tonight at the brand new Museum of Chinese in America (MoCA) in Chinatown. What a fitting place for the premiere workshop of this piece. Packed house. Actor Stephen Eng performed the part of Kuang. And there was a live orchestral group as well that consisted of cello, violin, and percussion.
Workshops are generally meant to be for works-in-progress and to provide the creators with feedback, which we did, and which I will continue to do here (in hopes that Byron and Aaron read this at some point). I feel like this piece is really close. Anyway, here are some of my thoughts, categorized somewhat loosely:
Music:
Great mix of Chinese traditional music, Western music, and a contemporary/experimental style. It organically melds the different musical styles so you don't really notice them. Very enjoyable listen, with catchy tunes that stick in your head long after you leave the show. The most important thing about the music is that while it's certainly not conventional (original stuff here, people), it's accessible. It pushes boundaries, yet doesn't alienate the audience.
Language:
This aspect is particularly interesting. Reminded me a bit of the Joy Luck Club, or Kiterunner, in that, through the process of allowing a character for whom English does not come easily (or, in Kuang's case, almost at all), it is an ironic process of un-Othering the Other (in this case, a Chinese delivery man, a person who would otherwise be put in the position of a foreigner in America), and allowing the audience to fully relate to his plight.
I did find that understanding Chinese makes the script very poignant.
Symbolism and Politicism:
Hugely present. The metaphor of Kuang as a food that America swallowed, and the elevator as a metaphor for the belly of America from which he cannot escape (for shame of going back to his country) is sustained throughout the show. The invisibility of his situation, and the fact that no one could hear/find/SEE him, merely emphasizes how these service workers, who more often than not are undocumented immigrants who come to America in hopes of a better life, are unseen in our society. They don't matter. There's a double meaning here too - they don't really exist - they don't have papers, and in our paper-obsessed society (where nothing is real unless it's "on paper", as Derrida talks about in "Paper Machine"), they're not really here. So, in essence, they're invisible both in the eyes of our official system, as well as in the unofficial day to day happenings in society. This speaks to a much greater, ongoing issue of Chinese in America and the foreignness of people with Asian face, whether they are from Asia or born in America.
Most Memorable Moments for me (I apologize if I mis-describe the titles):
The hunger piece:
Reminiscent of spoken word, this piece involves a rhythmic whispering in the background with Kuang talking over it. This piece is one of the very few moments in the show where anger is felt. It's a powerful piece, emphasizing the invisibility and non-acknowledgment of Chinese undocumented workers in America, but how important they are in the service sector of New York.
Takeout Man:
A catchy tune about Kuang envisioning himself as a superhero. The only thing I would say about this is that, unlike the other songs, this one repeats the chorus around 4 times.
Thank You - Kuang talks to various Chinese dishes (orange beef, General Tso's chicken, etc) and thanks them for making him money. This is the first song of the show, and there is a reprisal near the end. It nicely bookends the show, in which we see Kuang slowly become less human (yet, at the same time, less of an Other) - personifying food, dehumanizing Kuang, bringing them to a plane of synonymy.
Peeing Himself - to me, this is the seminal moment of Kuang's dehumanization. And Kuang struggles with holding it in, to hold on to his humanity.
THE ENDING
The ending requires its own section, since we ended up having a discussion about this during the Q&A. The show ends with the light showing Kuang laying on the ground after having peed and stabbed himself, hungry, thirsty, unheard, and generally invisible. An audience member made the comment that he would have liked to see a "Hollywood ending" - or rather an ending where Kuang is not positioned in such a defeated posture (ambiguity notwithstanding). He was supported by another audience member who would have liked to hear jingling or elevator bells or something to indicate that there is hope. Everyone was in agreement that we don't necessarily have to see the doors open. But there was something this side of the debated wanted to keep alive - hope. Hope was something Kuang kept alive throughout the show, and I understand the desire to see that hope linger long after the curtain is drawn.
But I disagree with that, and I will use the idea of manufactured consent (of course - my favorite buzz word) to explain why I feel like the ending works as is. Throughout the show, the story allows the English speaking audience (read: American audience) to relate to Kuang, our protagonist (certainly an important positioning even as a one-man show), as a real, three-dimensional person. It allows us to feel what he feels, to know his thoughts and dreams, to experience his yearning for his family, his shame at the thought of returning to China without honor. He becomes visible to us - we see him, not only on a mental and emotional level, but on a physical level. He's present in our minds and eyes. This is a process of un-Othering the Other - to make him less foreign to us. He becomes an Us - part of the in-crowd.
I understand wanting an ending that doesn't seem so hopeless, but I fear any sort of "transcendent" or "hopefulness" would blind us to the reality of the plight of Chinese immigrants in America. We would leave the theatre feeling, well, hopeful. And that's not always the case with these Chinese immigrants. Leaving the theatre hopeful, more content than one would with the current despairing ending, will lead to the feeling that everything will be ok - because we're America, of course. What's that? I like to call it Manufactured Consent (I believe Gramsci was the first to use the idea broadly, Chomsky wrote a book with that title, and Adorno and Horkheimer used it to lament pop culture), or false contentment. Because people who are content do not revolt or rebel, and hence keep those in power IN power. This is why we like happy endings. We have the feeling that everything will be ok. We feel less pain, less violence.
Having Kuang placed in such a defeated position at the end is heartbreaking. It's a blow to the stomach. All that hope he had might all be gone. As idealistic as this may sound, but perhaps that violence to our psyche, that heartbreak, that pain, is the push we need to affect change, to bring awareness to these undocumented Chinese immigrants, to bring awareness to the invisibility of the Asian face in American society, to not let our history of Asians in America be written as merely "the absence of Asians in American history." (something I believe Ronald Takaki said, but I'm a bit too tired to look it up right now)
I did, however, like Jack's suggestion that the doors can open at the end and the next Chinese delivery man steps in as Kuang leaves, showing that the vicious cycle only repeats itself.
(disclaimer: all progress being made in other directions and vectors notwithstanding)
All in all, I think this is going to be something well worth seeing. I'm excited to see how this will evolve over the next few months. The next workshop will be in November.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Interconnectivity
Since being in Business of Media class, I've been connecting a lot of my social media accounts together, downloading this thing called Tweetfeed (which basically feeds me all updates from people I'm following on Twitter and the newsfeed from Facebook, and myspace, if I so desire). I'm not sure I'm going to stick with it though...it seems a bit much to be checking another application when I already check the Facebook website.
Then, the purpose for this post is to test twitterfeed, something that will tweet my blogs onto Twitter. If that's the case, I might seriously consider divorcing Twitter and Facebook, lest all my friends "hide" me for having too many posts. Plus, I have my blogs automatically feeding into my Facebook notes as well. Is that overkill?
And when you get down to it, who actually reads my blogs, my status updates, my thoughts? The more there is out there, the less significant each piece of communication becomes, till it simply becomes a muddled cacophony where everything is indistinct and unimportant.
JDP, this is truly speaking into the air.
Then, the purpose for this post is to test twitterfeed, something that will tweet my blogs onto Twitter. If that's the case, I might seriously consider divorcing Twitter and Facebook, lest all my friends "hide" me for having too many posts. Plus, I have my blogs automatically feeding into my Facebook notes as well. Is that overkill?
And when you get down to it, who actually reads my blogs, my status updates, my thoughts? The more there is out there, the less significant each piece of communication becomes, till it simply becomes a muddled cacophony where everything is indistinct and unimportant.
JDP, this is truly speaking into the air.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
NYTimes: Our One-Party Democracy
From The New York Times:
OP-ED COLUMNIST: Our One-Party Democracy
China's one-party autocracy can impose the important policies needed
to move a society forward in the 21st century. Is this a political
advantage?
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/09/09/opinion/09friedman.html
Get The New York Times on your iPhone for free by visiting http://itunes.com/apps/nytimes
*******************
Cynthia Wang's iPhone
cynthiawang@nyu.edu
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
Random thing to notice
Ok, I can't say I'm an expert in what shots the media shows of the US Open, but the Li Na/Clijsters match just ended...was it just me, but near the end, did they (aka ESPN) not show Li Na on screen at all, with all shots focused on Clijsters? And then there was the commentator who went on and on about how Mao Tze Dong's goat ate the tennis net and how he (Mao), wherever he is, must be so proud. WTF?! And then he mentioned something about Chiang Kai Shek.
Asian faces invisible in the media? Hell yea.
This is my one obligatory pseudo-militant post this semester. Time to go back being dispassionately objective and academic.
Grace says this might be because Clijsters is the favorite.
Asian faces invisible in the media? Hell yea.
This is my one obligatory pseudo-militant post this semester. Time to go back being dispassionately objective and academic.
Grace says this might be because Clijsters is the favorite.
Friday, September 04, 2009
Cases of mistaken identities
I was walking along West 4th this afternoon after a meeting in my department with my mind buzzing with, well, stuff that I won't bore you with here, about to pull out my cell phone to make a quick call when I heard, "Hey Cynthia!" I stared hard at the owner of the voice, silently going through my mental Rolodex as fast as my under-caffeinated, sleep-deprived, sugar-starved, and overwrought brain could handle. Not fast enough. She pointed to herself upon seeing my confusion and said, "Susan!" Of course! Of course I know Susan. Susan sang Mary Poppins and Phantom of the Opera for me at Ellen's Stardust Diner last year! We baked cookies and made frosting together at Tanya's, and we've been trying to make plans to have coffee ever since she started her grad program at NYU!
What is wrong with me?! This is not the first time something like this has happened. It seems to be a recurring issue that I've noticed more and more recently. The most recent incident happened at Costco in LA when I ran into Linda Peng and her mom. I met Linda at Phillip's over Christmas last year, and had a very intense conversation/debate with her mom about the worth-it-ness of private elite universities that lasted the better part of two hours. Linda herself was learning how to play guitar, and her sister, Lisa, her, and I were supposed to go geocaching this summer. When I saw Linda and her mom at Costco, I introduced myself, only to be gently reminded that I had met them before. *sigh*
I forget faces. All the time. I remember names, and I remember details. Probably one of the most memorable forgetting happened with Emily (who's one of my closest and dearest friends) - I met her in April 2000, when we were both at Northwestern's Day at NU - an event held that would help us decide whether to or not to go to Northwestern. I met her in the lobby restaurant of the hotel we were both staying in, and had a rather substantial conversation with her and her parents. I later ran into her at Norris again. First day of classes freshman year - I had Chinese History. After class, the girl in front of me turned around. "You're Cynthia, right?" I stuck out my hand and shook her's as she said, "I'm Emily, remember?" Yes, I remember you, Emily. I just couldn't recognize you.
This next incident is even more embarrassing...and I can't remember if I ever told the person in question about it. It took me a VERY long time to recognize my good friend, Jane, by sight. Weeks, after seeing her regularly even - again, she was someone else I had met and had a substantial conversation with previously, who had to reintroduce herself to me.
Another one happened less than a year ago, involving my friend and batchmate (or, fellow cohort member) Ching. We were all out for Allison's birthday at some dark Mexican restaurant, but it wasn't so dark to excuse what happened. Ching sat diagonally across from me. I just couldn't place her, and my brain jumped to the conclusion that I had never met her. It screamed at me, "NEW PERSON! NEW PERSON! Introduce yourself!" So I did. I even asked her name again, and when she told me, I could have sunk into the floor.
I hate not making the connection when it seems to come naturally for everyone else, and it's even worse when it's someone I consider a friend. It makes me feel like the other person thinks I don't feel they're worth my remembering, and the truth couldn't be further from it. There have been countless times when I've stuck my hand out to shake someone else's hand and said, "Nice to meet you", only to be met with "Don't you remember? We've met before." Makes me feel awful. And, since I've started being aware of this quirk, I get slightly anxious when I'm about to meet someone I know I've met before and SHOULD recognize on sight (but often can't picture their face in my head) - so much so that when I met my friend Kelly this summer for the second time over tea, I texted her beforehand to warn her about my penchant for misremembering faces.
So, in addition to publicly apologizing to Susan today for my brain going blank, I want to say, if this ever happens to you, I'm really REALLY sorry!!
I think it's an indication I've been watching too much Law & Order SVU when I say, if you rape me, you don't have to worry about me IDing you because I won't be able to pick you out of a lineup, so don't kill me, please.
What is wrong with me?! This is not the first time something like this has happened. It seems to be a recurring issue that I've noticed more and more recently. The most recent incident happened at Costco in LA when I ran into Linda Peng and her mom. I met Linda at Phillip's over Christmas last year, and had a very intense conversation/debate with her mom about the worth-it-ness of private elite universities that lasted the better part of two hours. Linda herself was learning how to play guitar, and her sister, Lisa, her, and I were supposed to go geocaching this summer. When I saw Linda and her mom at Costco, I introduced myself, only to be gently reminded that I had met them before. *sigh*
I forget faces. All the time. I remember names, and I remember details. Probably one of the most memorable forgetting happened with Emily (who's one of my closest and dearest friends) - I met her in April 2000, when we were both at Northwestern's Day at NU - an event held that would help us decide whether to or not to go to Northwestern. I met her in the lobby restaurant of the hotel we were both staying in, and had a rather substantial conversation with her and her parents. I later ran into her at Norris again. First day of classes freshman year - I had Chinese History. After class, the girl in front of me turned around. "You're Cynthia, right?" I stuck out my hand and shook her's as she said, "I'm Emily, remember?" Yes, I remember you, Emily. I just couldn't recognize you.
This next incident is even more embarrassing...and I can't remember if I ever told the person in question about it. It took me a VERY long time to recognize my good friend, Jane, by sight. Weeks, after seeing her regularly even - again, she was someone else I had met and had a substantial conversation with previously, who had to reintroduce herself to me.
Another one happened less than a year ago, involving my friend and batchmate (or, fellow cohort member) Ching. We were all out for Allison's birthday at some dark Mexican restaurant, but it wasn't so dark to excuse what happened. Ching sat diagonally across from me. I just couldn't place her, and my brain jumped to the conclusion that I had never met her. It screamed at me, "NEW PERSON! NEW PERSON! Introduce yourself!" So I did. I even asked her name again, and when she told me, I could have sunk into the floor.
I hate not making the connection when it seems to come naturally for everyone else, and it's even worse when it's someone I consider a friend. It makes me feel like the other person thinks I don't feel they're worth my remembering, and the truth couldn't be further from it. There have been countless times when I've stuck my hand out to shake someone else's hand and said, "Nice to meet you", only to be met with "Don't you remember? We've met before." Makes me feel awful. And, since I've started being aware of this quirk, I get slightly anxious when I'm about to meet someone I know I've met before and SHOULD recognize on sight (but often can't picture their face in my head) - so much so that when I met my friend Kelly this summer for the second time over tea, I texted her beforehand to warn her about my penchant for misremembering faces.
So, in addition to publicly apologizing to Susan today for my brain going blank, I want to say, if this ever happens to you, I'm really REALLY sorry!!
I think it's an indication I've been watching too much Law & Order SVU when I say, if you rape me, you don't have to worry about me IDing you because I won't be able to pick you out of a lineup, so don't kill me, please.
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Sondheim and Whedon
I suppose it's only fitting that Whedon himself is a self-proclaimed Sondheim fan.
Found this on Wikipedia today, while looking at the Merrily We Roll Along entry, in the section talking about the poor reception of the musical on Broadway when it first opened:
In his New York Times review on November 17, 1981, Frank Rich said of the production, "As we all should probably have learned by now, to be a Stephen Sondheim fan is to have one's heart broken at regular intervals."
Sound familiar?
Found this on Wikipedia today, while looking at the Merrily We Roll Along entry, in the section talking about the poor reception of the musical on Broadway when it first opened:
In his New York Times review on November 17, 1981, Frank Rich said of the production, "As we all should probably have learned by now, to be a Stephen Sondheim fan is to have one's heart broken at regular intervals."
Sound familiar?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
