my true colors

It's a typical summer afternoon in South San Francisco - foggy, cold, dreary.

I'm sitting here at work during my break, and random thoughts led to a search for a very fond memory from my stay in Paris in 2006.

One of the many special moments from that trip came from (surprise!) a television program - La Nouvelle Star. It's basically the French version of American Idol.

The star of the show that year was a young homme by the name of Christophe Willem. He was plain looking, wore geeky glasses, and didn't dress particularly fashionably. But he sang with his heart and soul, and he was beautiful. I remember very well a song he performed - True Colors.

So during my break, I searched for his performance online.

Then I relived three magical minutes from Paris.

Often I have (we all have) wanted to be more this or less that and have criticized people around me for being too this or acting too that - most of which don't actually matter very much if I think about it. Feeling Christophe perform makes all of life's little wants and desires insignificant. It reminds me to just be myself, to live, to express my soul in any and every which way I can and to see people for their true colors.

Every now and then, I'm starting to see a glimpse of my true colors shining through.

And that makes me happy.

of roses and akira

Sometimes I just can't get certain movie images out of my head.  

Not that I want to.

Yesterday I saw the great master Akira Kurosawa's Rhapsody in August, which depicts an old woman's life as result of the atomic bomb during WWII.  I don't like wars.  I don't care for movies about wars.  The image that has enraptured me is the image of the woman carrying an umbrella in the midst of a strong storm.

As she holds the umbrella above her, the wind blows so hard that it flips the umbrella inside out.  At that moment, the umbrella resembles the petals of the rose seen earlier in the movie, and the woman its stem.  Throughout the movie, the woman's grandchildren sing repeatedly Franz Schubert's The Rose among the Heather, a song based on Goethe's Heidenröslein.  The lyrics, which I can't remember fully, were about a boy seeing a rose and, delighted by its beauty, approaches to take a closer look.

In the movie, Kurosawa includes an image of a trail of ants crawling toward and all over this rose.  At the end, the grandchildren run after their grandmother like the ants toward the rose.  Like the poem, they are all pursuing something beautiful.  And by taking a closer look at their grandmother, the children find something valuable.

I couldn't help but think that I too am like the children.  Perhaps all people are.  We all search for something; some of us know what it is, others never find out.  

I recall the one other image that has resurfaced countless times in my mind.  It also comes from a Kurosawa movie - Ikiru.

This image is a middle-aged man, dying of cancer, sitting alone on a swing in the park he built with his life savings.  As snow falls, he sings Gondola no Uta (The Gondola Song), one verse of which goes something like this:

Life is brief

fall in love, maidens

before the boat drifts away

on the waves

before the hand resting on your shoulder

becomes frail

for those who will never

be seen here again

I remember not being able to stop crying for minutes as I watches these last moments of the film.  I believe the rose that I seek is to create images like these to move people, to move myself, to remind all what is true.

I have this secret plan (not so secret now) to recreate the image of the man on a swing in a movie that I will make.

Maybe I cried because I don't want to be that man.

how she said it

Elizabeth Taylor, a legend in the world of acting.  

I saw Cleopatra this week, and that was the first time I had ever seen her work.  What I noticed immediately was the different style of acting compared to the films today.  Of course there was the obvious lack of extreme close-ups and special effects, which are too often overused nowadays.  But the most significant difference is the diction.  

What current actors accomplish with facial expressions and hand gestures Ms. Taylor did with variances in the tone and weight of her speech.  One word that recurred as I watched the film was that she was convincing.  Through her diction, I felt her joy and her pain, her anger and her pride.

Her portrayal of Cleopatra made me want to learn more about this legendary historical figure, and isn't that what films are all about?  To demand our attention, to pique our curiosity.

on the wings of music

It has been nine months since I began cello lesson with Irina.  

Everything started with a flyer in Paris in May, 2008.

Yesterday I had a moment.

For the past nine months, we have been working on getting rid of bad habits and developing new ones - that has been the most difficult thing.  I have had to change the source of energy for my bowing arm from my fingers to my shoulders.  I remember once in a lesson when I remarked to Irina that her arm was like a butterfly wing flapping so freely and effortlessly, whereas my arm was like... well, nevermind what mine looked like.  Then it happened yesterday.

I willed all the energy into my shoulder and allowed my wrist to be like jello, merely an extension of the upper arm, and all of a sudden, I felt my shoulder become free, almost flying like that of Irina.  I was so happy I screamed.  

Once I finish writing this post, I will return to the cello again for the first time since that moment, and I will teach my arm and shoulder to take flight again.

But all of this reminds me of a comment someone made to me a few weeks ago when we were discussing how busy each of us was.  When I related to her that I had a full schedule of activities planned for the summer, she was quick to remind me of the fact the things that kept me busy, such as tennis, cello, and script writing, were insignificant compared to what kept her busy - her children and family.  

I didn't quite know how to respond initially, so I let it go, even though I knew there was something terribly wrong with her argument.  After I hung up the phone, the response came quietly to me.  While it is true that my activities are personal to only me and that they don't involve such grandiose efforts like taking care of children, they are still things important to me.  They are more than hobbies or pastimes; I've learned perseverance, acceptance, forgiveness through them.  They may not be as difficult, but they are important because I do them.

So while I don't need to make sure my cello or tennis balls are properly fed and bathed each day, nor do I dream about their applying to Harvard or Stanford one day, they are part of the many things that make up my life, and that gives them all the significance.

It's great to reflect on life to convince others.

Even more so to convince myself.

untitled opus I

About yesterday...

Perhaps not every opportunity needs to be seized.  Not every opportunity is an opportunity.  This one simply wasn't enough for me to give up things for.  Learn from the experience.  Move on.

About tomorrow...

just sort of do it?

It all started with an invitation to an internship at a new friend's film production company here in San Francisco.

Everything was going to be great - I would watch and observe the editor and director at work, learn a lot of new things, and perhaps help with film projects.

Now, one week later, the internship has begun and ended prematurely; and my overthinking mind is left to analyze it to death.

First of all, it wasn't exactly an internship.  It was going to be like a semi-internship as I could only devote a couple of visits to the office each week.  During the first and final week, I was there three times, for a total of eight hours.  It didn't take long for me to feel that any time spent at the semi-internship meant time taken away from cello practice, tennis games, and, of course, script writing.  Besides, I was helping the company with research on business expansion and wasn't quite getting the hands-on experience I had hoped for.

At least that's what I told myself.

So, after one week, I told my boss Carl that the timing wasn't right, and I was overly ambitious to think that I could devote enough time to his company.  He took it very well, saying that when I am ready to commit to filmmaking, I would be able to give up the other things in my life and devote myself to it completely.

I had doubts.  Just like Meryl Streep at the end of the film "Doubt."

That's when I called my cousin Debbie, who is a singer/composer in Taiwan.  She had been through a tough period of searching for her place in the music world, so I knew she would be able to understand my situation.  Plus she always gives it to me straight.  No sugar-coating anything.  Sort of like a more pleasant, prettier, female version of me.

Minutes into our conversation, she was already pointing all the things I had feared were true but didn't want to confront.  Here were the questions she raised:

What makes me think I could gauge what the company is like after eight hours working with them?  Why should anyone hire an intern who could only devote eight hours a week?  Why should I expect to be handed projects that were to my liking?  What could I possibly expect to accomplish by working eight hours a week?  Why should I expect to be taught anything?  Obviously, this isn't medical school.

But the most important question was this:  if I am seriously passionate about film, why can't I give up everything else to do it, to breathe it, to live it?

I have lots of answers to each and every question, none of them really good.

As a side note, this brought up a brief conversation about the concept that each of us already knows the answer to the important questions in life, but 99.9999% of us have our minds clouded by greed, pride, and whatever other sins and desires you can think of.  But I digress.

I don't want to believe that my personality will lead me to everywhere and consequently nowhere (that's what my father tells me and hence advises me to stick with medicine).  But I do believe it is time to seriously reevaluate my priorities and what I really want to accomplish.

It would be nice to have answers handed to me.  But I know it won't happen that way.  The path toward my goals is likely 10 times more difficult that I was preparing for, and I am standing at every intersection, ready to provide all sorts of obstacle.  

The next time an opportunity presents itself, will I "just do it" or will I "just sort of do it"?

I have an answer:  I need to get rid of "me."

practice makes imperfect

At my cello lesson yesterday, my instructor Irina noted that, unlike some of her other students, I am very receptive to changes.

Her comment took me by surprise.  

I have enough self-awareness to know that I am open to constructive criticism, but it never occurred to me that others might not.  That's the part I don't understand - if you could improve something about you, why wouldn't you do it? 

Now I'm not talking about going to a plastic surgeon to get a face lift (at least not yet, ask me in 20 years; maybe 10), but simple things like improving the way you hold the cello bow, the way you hit a forehand on the tennis court, or the way you approach an eligible bachelor to ask him out on a first date.  If you could learn to do things better, why not?

Sure, it isn't always easy.  Often very difficult I should day.  But still - isn't that what life is about - finding ways to learn, to improve ourselves?  The corollary to all this is that it makes my life a bit more challenging - meaning I would never be satisfied with myself and that I would always feel that there is more to achieve, more to improve.  That's where the concept of the imperfect human comes in - I need to remind myself that my goal is improvement, not perfection.

Last year I read a book given to me by a colleague at Kaiser.  She has a strong interest in hypnotherapy and the concept of reincarnation.  An idea proposed by the author is that the purpose of each lifetime is to find and overcome a character flaw.  I must admit that it is quite easy to find my character flaw(s), but overcoming it is another story, as it is with most people.

But again, the issue here is change - finding that which needs improvement and addressing it.  Maybe that's why I'm so restless...  Maybe I'm closer to Nirvana than I know...

...Maybe I need to practice the cello a bit more today.