Great Claims

1. In the scene created by Frank Lloyd Wright's Fallingwater house in winter, its bleached colors, flowing movement, calm setting and elegant connection to nature illustrates an awestruck, majestic euphoria. - Feist-Fan

2. The educationally stimulating childrens' game Questionaut incorporates pleasantly jubilant music with whimsically quaint animation to create an inventively playful adventure. -Norwegian Wood

3. In this electrifying poster for the film 300, splashes of blood, open-mouthed screams of rage and anguish, and determined, hostile facial expressions, deliver impressive feelings of wrath, exhilaration, and bloodshed that are sure to be felt in the heat of battle. -InsideOut

4. The use of hierarchical depth, vibrant colors, varied expressions, and complete use of space in this movie poster for Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory augments the contrasts between the dignified, concealing Willy and the ancillary, exuberant attendees while presenting the whimsical story in a unique way. -charliebucket

5. In this shocking yet comically amusing video we observe an unusually grotesque reaction to some news that set a strange wild boy into a mystifying tangent of caterwauling violently. -The Ozone Lair


It's very tough for me to pick a favorite, but if I had to, I'd say The Ozone Lair's claim was the best. That video was full of lawlz.

Link: http://alexozone.blogspot.com/

Claim Assignment: Switchfoot - Your Love Is A Song

Elements / Adjectives:

Lyrics - pensive, expectant, tenacious
Instruments - mellow, temperate
Emotion - uplifting, extolling, tender
Speed - deliberate
Vocals - husky, powerful, dreamy, breathless


Inferences:

Euphoric
Laudatory
Solemn
Ardent
Earnest


Claim:

In the song "Your Love Is A Song" by the band Switchfoot, the pensive, tenacious air of the lyrics, along with the mellow drum and guitar accompaniment and the powerful, husky, and dreamlike quality of the singer's vocals combine to evoke an overwhelming sense of breathlessness and euphoria surrounding the song's subject, a love so solemn and earnest it becomes the singer's reason for living.

The World of Kungfu

As I've said in my last post, I'm reading this book called American Shaolin by Matthew Polly. The reason I picked it up was because of the cover:

The Shaolin monk on the book cover is holding a bag of food from Burger King. I was extremely hungry at the time, having skipped lunch to work on some homework that I should not have procrastinated on. This book caught my eye, and this was my thought process:


zOMG BURGER KING. zOMG.

IS THAT BURGER KING?!

I haven't had fast food in soooo long. FFFUUU.

That. Person. Is. Chinese. I'm sooo reading this book.


So maybe I picked up this book for the wrong reasons. Instead of having 'high intellectual goals of accumulating wisdom' in mind, I hoped there would either be descriptions of food or complaints about how different everything in China was. (Both were in the book to varying degrees.) Because let's face it: books about cultural differences are always entertaining to the point of ridicule.

But anyways. American Shaolin is a nonfiction book about a weakling and Princeton dropout who travels to China to learn kungfu from the original masters and to maybe even achieve religious enlightenment from the monks' form of Buddhism. He does become somewhat beast at kungfu, but he doesn't really achieve true spiritual enlightenment.

There's just one thing wrong with this scenario: he dropped out of Princeton. Blasphemy! Pure blasphemy. I believe that dropping out of any prestigious college, ESPECIALLY Ivy League, is grounds for eternal shame and damnation in the fiery brimstone pools of Hell. (Or so say my parents.)

Anyhoo, I really liked this book. I could somewhat relate to it because I'm Chinese and most of the characters in the book are Chinese, but also because... no, that's about it. I'll never go on a self-discovering journey into the depths of a foreign country where everyone stares at me like I'm an alien, nor will I ever, EVER become physically ept. (The extent of my exercise is from videogames and walking to class. Derp.)

I do like the interactions between the Shaolin monks and Matthew (or Bao Mosi, as the monks call him), however. For instance, the monks consider Matthew to be a sexual libertine after he states that he's had 3 girlfriends. The Chinese culture states that one does not start openly dating until one is around 25, so the idea of an under-25 Matthew with 3 serious relationships and numerous (presumed) sexual conquests under his belt is unthinkable.

This highlights one of the many cultural differences, others of which include kinds of food eaten, amount of physical affection, and politeness. As many of you may know, Asians eat a larger variety of foods than whites. Physical affection is also increased, since people are comfortable in their sexualities and the idea of homosexuality in Asia is a myth. As for politeness, let me give a real-life example:

My family was dining with some relatives in a high-end seafood restaurant on our last visit to China. The bill came.

Dad: I'll pay the bill.

Uncle: Nonono, I insist I pay it. Keep your money.

D: We can't possibly make you pay all of this bill. It's too expensive. I'LL pay it.

U: *growing exasperated* You're our guests here. We can't allow you to lose your precious money on trivialities. Buy some icecream for your kids and let us pay the bill.

D: *loudly* No, I'LL pay the bill. End of story.

Etc etc etc...
The argument can go on for up to ten minutes before my dad grudgingly concedes to let my uncle pay. No joke.


Contrast this with an scenario between my family and some American friends:

*the bill comes*

Dad: I'll foot the bill.

American: Okay. Thank you, *insert my dad's name here*!

Dad: ...


The differences are astonishing.

Having no good way to conclude, I'm just going to lamely say: READ THIS BOOK.

What Ching Chong Actually Means (Regarding Racism)

Fact: I'm Chinese. I speak the language, look the part, and act the part.

I came to the US when I was six. In fourth grade, I was riding the bus when these two obnoxious girls behind me made a remark obviously directed at me: 'ching chong.'

I decided to be the better person and ignore them; eventually they tired of saying the phrase over and over and became silent. I was tempted, back then, to hurl back their way one of several choice of insults about their obesity or overly large noses, some of the many stereotypes Asians have about Americans. I decided not to, however, because I knew the true meaning of 'ching chong.'

Now, think of the worst possible insult you could make about yourself. Something so heinously awful that it would make Hitler or Bill O'Reilly burst into tears. Yup, that's right. That's what 'ching chong' means.

Trollface: U mad, bro?


Trolololol, I keed I keed. 'Ching chong' means absolutely nothing at all - it's not even a Chinese word/phrase. Failsauce. Now comes the question, "What does this have to do with the book I'm reading?" Well, I was getting to that.

I'm currently reading a book called "American Shaolin" by Matthew Polly. The book is about an American who, obsessed with kungfu, travels to China to learn kungfu from the original masters: the Shaolin monks. Side note: to see how awesome the Shaolin style of kungfu is in relation to modern day life, watch Shaolin Soccer - with subtitles, of course.

Soccer and mortal peril sometimes don't mix. In this case, they do.


Anyways. What this book has to do with my blog post is this: in the book, there's a moderate to extreme amount of white stereotyping. The Chinese people in the book consider Americans to be either obese, arrogant, condescending, big-nosed, or giants in matters of height. Obviously, this doesn't apply to all whites.

If the Chinese stereotyping of whites leaves a sour taste in your mouth, consider the other side of the story. There's this overwhelming assumption in the US, I've found, that Asians have tiny slanted eyes, a preference for dog, small reproductive organs, a lack of hygiene, and/or a tendency to be loud.

Obviously, none of this is universally true. For instance, while most Asians have said physical features; like with any race, there are exceptions. But meh, I'm just stating the obvious. Let's talk about dogs.

Personally, I've never eaten any animal you could consider a pet in my life, and neither have my parents. (We HAVE, however, eaten chicken feet, jellyfish, beef small intestine, and pork tongue. Don't judge.) Recently, Chinese citizens have been protesting the presence of dogs at the dinner table (only in some regions of China and more dominantly in Korea) due to more and more of the Chinese nouveau riche owning pets. This is good. Definitely good.

A succulent dish of jellyfish.


There are other stereotypes which I won't bother dispelling because they'd be too awkward and because I'm tired. If you're smart, you'll look them up and be rewarded with knowledge. (And a virtual cookie.)

Touring Blogs

InsideOut
Hidden In A Journal
Apples To Apples
Charlie Bucket
ETYAFTER
The Blanket Fort
Fire Side Reading
Norwegian Wood
The Lost Message Of Words

Teh Update

Books I'm reading:

None - I finished all my current books this week.


This week: 534 pages
Last week: 406 pages
This semester: 940 pages


Sentences of the week:

1. "Faggy color names (alphabetized)
bisque
cerise
chartreuse
conch
cornflower
corn silk
fern
goldenrod
honeydew
leather
lichen
lox
mica
moccasin
opal
plum
saddle brown
shiraz
snow
thistle
yolk"
JPod, Douglas Coupland

2. "Don't let some guy named Vinnie take you on any long drives out into the desert." 21, Ben Mezrich

3. "A whale is someone who can lose a million dollars at cards - and not give a damn." 21, Ben Mezrich


How dare he label snow a 'faggy' color. I can understand goldenrod, but snow? It's just a more non-mainstream way to say white. I mean, who wants boring old white when you can have snow? That's the first sentence anyway.

The last two sentences make me want to try my hand at playing blackjack. Can't you hear the undertone of excitement and glamor in those sentences? Lawl.

Blackjack: Twenty-One (the number's typed out because I'm hipster)

It seems like all the books I read are good books. For once, I want to read a bad one (*coughTwilightcough*) and ridicule it. Unfortunately, I've already read the Twilight series, and this class entails reading previously unread books. Boooo. D:

Take this book, for instance. The plot is basically six MIT students who decide to use their pwnful math skills to earn millions at blackjack. The myth is true: Geeks WILL rule the world. Apparently, blackjack is the only gambling game that doesn't rely completely on luck. I'm no blackjack expert, but I believe that once a card is dealt, it's not used again for a particular blackjack round. Therefore, if you have a good memory and a counting system, you can bet big money at the right times and earn a crapload of returns.

The system that Kevin, the main character, and his friends use includes three types of players. The Spotters stay at a table and bet conservatively until their counting system indicates that good cards are ahead. Then, they covertly signal the Gorillas, who buy into the game and bet as much as possible, following the cues of the Spotter. The jobs of the Spotter and the Gorillas are somewhat combined in the Big Player, who does all the jobs. Thus, the Big Players are the most important.

However, there are complications with this beating of the system. Card-counters, as these six people are called, are reviled by casinos. If you get caught, casinos can throw you out and forbid you from ever coming in again. Although card-counting isn't illegal, casinos want to make money from idiots, not lose money to people who've beat the system. Moreover, you must report your gambling winnings to the IRS, and if your winnings are too great, the IRS will audit you. Dat cash. O.o

The six card-counters, or the Reptiles as they call themselves, experience all of these difficulties and eventually split up into two teams. Before they do so, however, they resort to using wigs, hair dye, makeup, and facial alterations to continue to earn money. Two of the card-counters even get beat up by security guards.

Apparently, this story was also made into a movie, but I've yet to see it. (I should have seen it last night, except I spent that time watching Thor.)

JPod, Part the Second

Ethan's mom's marijuana grow-op, except not really. (courtesy of the interwebz)


As expected, the rest of this book is as great as originally thought. Let me describe the story up until the end of part one. Our main character, Ethan Jarlewski, works in Vancouver as a video game engineer. His mother owns a marijuana grow-op, and his father is an aspiring actor who can only manage to land roles as extras. From here proceeds a series of partially random and only partially related events that are hilarious but kind of chimerical (OMG a vocab word!!11!one!11! <.<)

At the beginning of the book, Ethan’s mother accidentally kills a biker for extorting for a share of her grow-op. She has this puddle in the corner of the marijuana greenhouse that she can charge with electricity whenever something threatens her, and that's how Tim the biker died.

After mother and son get rid of the body (stopping at a garage sale on the way back), Ethan's house gets overrun with illegal Chinese immigrants, the team decides to covertly insert a serial killer clown with a secret lair into their lame skateboard game-in-development, and Steve, Ethan's immediate boss, falls in love with Ethan's mom and promptly disappears.

And that's just the beginning. You'll have to read parts two and three yourself to see the awesome. Hint: Think SARS. Hugging machines. Home-brewed cola tainted with coke. Lesbians with lowercase names.