WRITING CULTURE 2012: Film, Food & Beyond

Growing up in South Florida, I have seen many a hurricane. Some bad, some not so much, and a lot of time spent indoors waiting out the storm. Hurricane Sandy, however, interrupted life in a more irritating and destructive manner.

Coming in on my birthday, which of course is a petty complaint, and then sticking around for a few day, I was fortunate enough to be in a location where power blipped off for a few seconds only to resume and stay on for the remainder of my forced hurrication. A crane precariously dangled above 57th street just half an avenue away forcing most of nearby blocks to evacuate. Imagine, not being forced to evacuate by the actual storm, but because a building where apartments are selling for $90 million dollars neglected to secure their equipment.

I would love to say I see redeeming qualities about the storm; maybe that it is now bringing people together to help those who lost everything, but, it should not take disaster to do this. So with just these few things, I sufficiently loathe Hurricane Sandy.

It was not eight oclock yet, my roommates were asleep while I went to the kitchen to get some hot tea with honey and lemon on a day like that. I looked outside of my window to see what was happening. It was superwindy, it rained hard, when I saw a huge flash coming from far away, like something went on fire and exploded. Later I found out it was a ConEd explosion, which caused a tremendous power outage. Giving the fact that I live in Harrison, NJ, and could see the explosion from there, it was pretty bad. I looked around and saw the water one house away from mine. It  felt like some idiot built all the houses steps away from the pond, and some houses inside the pond. I saw a couple passing by my house wearing flip-flops and winter jackets. They walked into the water towards their house, struggling with the water current all their way through before they got in. I rushed to wake up my roommates. By the time we came back to the window, we saw our house immersed into the water. Loud banging on the door. Our neighbor with a flashlight on his head, blinding us, asked us if we wanted to be evacuated. All three of us started panicking and running around collecting the most important stuff: documents, cash and some jewelry (that was mine). I also took a blanket and a book to read (how could I know we would spend a night in the library?). We had to put every precious item from the floor to the shelves in case of flooding. Two big firemen met us on our way to the bus, asking if there was anyone else in the house. They were evacuating people, but we found out about it from our neighbor. Chaos. There were only six people on the bus (including us). They brought us to the senior house which looked very neat and cozy.

Drying my soaked shoes and socks after walking through the water

There were a lot of people with big traveling bags,and it looked like they were on the way to the airport, and then got stuck there. They reminded me of the people who were forced into Nazi camps, who were allowed to take one bag per person and put there the most precious things. Many of them cried. A woman, a community worker, went over each and everyone with a cart full of sandwiches. There even was a choice: a white or a wheat bread with either turkey or ham and condiments on the side. When somebody wanted a juice or something she ran out of, she would go back and look for it and then bring it to that person. The whole senior center was divided into two parts: one was with the animals, another without. There were not only cats and dogs, but also rabbits and some types of big home rats in cages. It looked like the Noahs ark.

The shelters workers were apologizing for the warm water.

Some time later we were asked to move to the secondary school, which library kept me from going insane. The people who were in charge of taking care of the refugees gave us food and dusty cots. I had to take the last one that was broken and no one wanted to sleep on it. I felt this would be better than sleeping on the floor or on wooden chairs. The big TV in the cafeteria streamed the news about the Sandy.

The donated food we ate with pleasure

Children had the privilege in getting the food

I was not able to sleep well that night: babies who mostly slept on the floor with their parents were taking turns in crying, it was very cold, there was no ventilation, and the smell of diapers came together with the smell of sweat and food.

The library of the secondary school converted into a refugee center

On the good side, the government takes care of their citizens, and does all that is possible for better accommodation in emergency situations. After we came back to our house, we found out that the first floor got completely flooded and our floor was one step away from the water. Thanks god the grandmother who lived on the first floor was evacuated beforehand. Another plus was that I got to know all my neighbors after I lived in this place for three months. They are very nice and helpful people and I feel very sorry for their flooded basements and garages, but happy that we are all safe. God Bless America!

*Photo from starbustmagazine.com

Is it weird to feel both somber and jovial at the same time? To laugh and smile while the world literally comes apart around you, while on the inside all you really want to do is cry? That’s the type of feeling watching Beasts of the Southern Wild, directed by Benh Zetilin, both encourages and evokes in its audience such as myself. Taking place in a post-apocalyptic setting where much of the world is being swamped by rising sea levels as the polar ice-caps melt Beasts of the Southern Wild focuses in on the story of six-year old girl named Hush Puppy and her life in a bayou community known as Bathtub. In between dealing with a sinking home and an ailing father, the melting ice-caps have also released prehistoric animals known as aurochs, which are incidentally migrating straight towards Bathtub.

It’s a bit more intimate then the last film I watched about global warming, which was Al Gore’s An Inconvenient Truth. Rather then discuss broad implications and general concepts, like Al Gore did, Beasts of the Southern Wild creates a microcosm for its viewers to absorb, watching the personal life of Hushpuppy play out in probably the worst case scenario of environmental disasters. And for the most part we see her and her companions confront said disasters with the kind of festivity that would make the orchestra in Titanic jealous. There is little or no somber remorse amongst the community of Bathtub, who live their lives like each day was there last… which it may in fact possibly be. But the good times do not in fact keep on rolling. Even the bubble of Bathtub, for all its lackadaisical resilience is not in fact anymore secure then the bubble of one’s childhood, which Hushpuppy must quickly grow out of in this harsh world.

By the end of the film audiences will be left with a simple but sobering message. No matter how much we run from out problems, whether they are our own individual tragedies or looming environmental disaster, one must have the fortitude and resolve to face them. Unless we can accept and embrace that message, we can never truly move forward. It’s not a new message, but Beasts of the Southern Wild carries it better through its ability to take complex issues and packaging them into an intimate and personal story. And the message resonates all the more because of it.

The flavor/texture combination of a golden kettle cooked potato chip is something enjoyable at anytime of day. Plain potato chips are a fool-proof means to a gluten free snack that can literally be found around the world!  The identifiable crunch as you bite into a chip is heavenly, with just enough salt to keep them from being bland.  Three ingredients (potatoes, oil, salt) mean that while we know potato chips are not the healthiest choice, they are a lot better than most options you can find on short notice hunger, and it also means there is nothing there to be nervous about when eating them… you know exactly what you’re getting.

The fact that potato chips are absolutely delicious is merely icing on the cake for this crunchy treat.

The no grief  Kobe Beef Hamburger. credit: legambleur via flickr

The hamburger has  a bad reputation. On one hand it’s become the symbol of America’s addiction to fast food, bloated waistlines and cholesterol choked arteries.  And rightfully so, the hamburger is not exactly the healthiest food. Especially at “traditional fast-food” burger joiints likes Burger King, McDonalds and Wendys. But those aren’t the hamburgers we’re hear to discuss, because as far as I’m concerned they’re Franken-burgers. A scientifically engineered sandwich composed of cheap bits of cow, other animals, chemical fillers and injected with “flavor” for your dining pleasure. Yuck!

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I remember being served dinner every night by my mother. She would grab the bowl of delicious, hot rice and put a couple spoonfuls of it on my plate, and then she’d get the bowl of salad covered in vinegar and olive oil and put it right next to my rice and than place some nice, tender meat of whatever, chicken, beef or pork and I would enjoy every bit of it. But then staring me down menacingly from across the dinner table, are the wet little lumps drowned in some bubbling, brown liquid. She would grab them and dump a disgusting load of it right on top of everything and I could almost feel my appetite fly right out of me and vanish into thin air. Beans. These dreaded beans are ruining my dinner and ruining my life.

I can’t stand this miniature orbs of pure disgust and evil. If I would guess what beans are made out of, I would say a key ingredient for them are pretty much everything that’s gross and abominable on this planet. And it’s shame they even exist. I love Mexican food. Mexican cuisine is one of my favorite kinds of food in the world. And it’s really a shame that such a great variety of Mexican food is ruined by these repulsive little things. I eat Chipotle like at least once a week and I never ask for beans in my burritos. If I see one bean, even a little drop of bean sauce, on my burrito I will make them take it back and make me a fresh one.

I really can go on forever on my hatred on beans. My father loves them and has always tried to force feed them to me. “They’re filled with iron and protein  Ivan” he says. Yeah, I don’t care. If you consider these abominations food and nourishment, then I guess I’m the most malnourished person in the world.

Definitely on the top of my list of worst things ever. Hell is a close second.

Catch the fish, put it in a bucket of salt, let it stay there for 3 days, then soak it and hang it for at least a couple of days and then, voila, it is ready to eat. I know to a non-Russian it may sound quiet weird, eating a basically raw salty fish, but we love this, especially with beer.

I used to do it myself when we had a house on the river. It is fresh, organic home-made food, nothing can be better. My parents send me a bag of dried river fish twice a year, because the fish bought here, even if it is bought in a Russian store, is still different.

This type of activity is very popular where I come from, people even make their living this way. Many fishermen can give you some pieces of advice on that.

You have to watch the flies though and not let them get into the fish, since they can lay eggs inside so that later in may be contaminated with worms. So to avoid this, wrap the gauze around the fish.

Otherwise, it is very healthy and delicious, you should try it if you havent yet.

As a Chinese American one of the many privileges I’ve had to enjoy from both cultures is their food. I can get into a bowl of noodles just as easily as I can churn through a helping of mash potatoes any day. But it pains me to know that the bridge between the two cultures themselves isn’t nearly so complete. Because when Americans typically think about Chinese food they’re trapped in the box of the image above.

Having had real home-made and formal dining Chinese food the image above does not qualify in any way beyond appearance. It’s a box of salt, sauce, and oil turned out of a fryer is what it basically is. Chinese takeout gives real Chinese food a bad name, allowing Americans to forget about the authentic version they could have if they took the time to look. A well-seasoned, evenly balanced, and thought out meal with a variety of different textures and flavors that can sing more then one note and can actually be good for you.

Brink? A concise title with romantic picture of the film attracted me to watch this film. Shawn Christensen directed the Winner of Tribeca short films, Brink; is science-fiction about love in live-action. This short 9-minute film impresses audiences with its narrative and unique photographic techniques.

Jeremy’s voiceover of his written letter leads the viewers into the film, and this impact lasts until the end of the film. Furthermore, the slow motions of the characters and objects’ floating in the air are almost dreamy and reminded me of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Shawn’s Brink had more hidden messages that audiences need to figure out themselves.

Therefore, I stared at the closing credits when I watched Brink for the first time because I totally felt at awe and did not understand what was going on. Moreover, Jeremy’s narration made me to feel like I was daydreaming. It was short but had a strong, lasting effect on me. But I gradually understood and immersed into his narration after watching many times of this film.

“Jeremy has been in love with his best friend, Evelyn, since before he can remember. He decides to profess his love for her through a simple, thoughtful letter… but there’s a strong chance they will never see each other again.”(Short of the week)

His confusion about the progression of losing gravity and uncertainty of the future with Evelyn is very well reflected in this film. Also, the indescribable emotion amplified by the psychedelic background music and his voice

The Caucus Blog is a place where everyone can blog about the political news. Bloggers express their own thoughts about the latest events in politics.

Right after the Democratic National Convention, the wall was filled with a number of blog posts about this event. Bloggers were discussing mostly speeches of the ones who were on stage, the president Obama was discussed more than Romney here simply because it was a Democratic National Convention.

A lot of people get involved into reading (or commenting) the Caucus Blog through Facebook, twitter or Google plus. I think that blogging about political events is a very good idea. You already have pictures, text, and someones opinion, not only just a dry coverage of what happened where and when.

Multimedia features.

It is understandable that New York Times is a professional in presenting multimedia features for their stories. The images they are using are bright, some of them dont even need a description (they speak for themselves), and they are done by professionals. The pictures make the blog more vivid and interesting. The photo slideshow depict the brightest moments of the event, sometimes telling us even more of what happened than if they went together with the text.