KHHHAAAANNNN! (so amusing)
Apparently, a gentleman by the name of Daniel Martinico created himself a little movie called … you guessed it … “KHAAN!”
Pretty sure you want to watch this. Pretty sure you do.
Watching this made me want to start a dance revolution. But I want to do that a lot anyways.
It also really made me want to go to another outdoor music festival. It also made me realize I haven’t typed up any thoughts on my Coachella experience this year.
P.S. I am not really sure what is going on with me. But I am pretty sure it involves Twitter stealing my soul. I have been spending a gratuitous amount of time on that site lately.
(Like I have mentioned in previous blogs, I tend to get really into the things I am interested in. Some would say obsessed, I just passionate. This is my 4th installment in Obsession. )
This is Bad. Real Bad. But in the “I don’t need it to end” kind of way.
I haven’t acted this silly, or been so mentally consumed by a celebrity in this fashion since I was probably 17 years old. Sure, I have had my fair share of crushes and fantasies. What human doesn’t? Sure, I have blabbled on and on about Ira Glass, Ben Gibbard, and Colin Meloy for the last few years of my life. Quite a good bit in fact. But those crushes are different, they really never have consumed me. I simply appreciate these men for everything they are intellectually and creatively, and I can certainly acknowledge that I find them attractive. . End of story, move on with my day. I don’t fixate or act idiotic.
Now think back to your teen years, do you remember your celebrity crushes from those days? Can you think back to that time for me for a minute? I know, it can be hard, but do it for a second.
Those crushes consume you. You hung posters on your wall, you spent your free time doing internet searches for videos and photos that would ultimately end up rotating on your computer’s desktop, you found out about their lives and hobbies, and you spent about 90% of day thinking about them. Your brain couldn’t concentrate on the so-called “important” things. And who cares? You were in Jr. High or High School, you didn’t really have anything else better to do anyways. There is a certain enthusiasm that a teenage female can have, that no other grouping of people can match when it comes to fantasizing about the men they are “in love” with. I remember it fondly, but also felt I grew out of it for a reason. It’s a bit creepy, quite isolating, and comes off to others as a bit immature.
So someone explain to me why I am experiencing a celebrity crush of epic proportions at the age of 25, and making a bit of an illogical ditz out of myself in the process? More intelligent and pertinent issues should be occupying my time, there is a world of problems to be solving and adult issues I could contemplate.
But I just can’t help it, Zachary Quinto, I surrender. Give me my life back.
OH! But look at him. I am not sure I need my life back? What’s so great about responsibility and reality, when I can fun, fantasy, and lust?
His portrayal of Spock is actually the primary focus of my crush. I am mostly in love with the fictional character. Spock’s voice! Those eyes, those eyebrows, the attitude, and the intellect! Smart men get the best of me, and Spock is as intelligent as they come. And this isn’t just a geek thing. Spock is getting a lot of attention because of Star Trek IV , and this article here proves that women are loving it.
But the more research I do on Mr. Quinto, the more I enjoy him as well. In interviews his vocabulary exceeds expectations. He is intelligent, occasionally wears glasses (which we all know how much I love men in glasses), and has something mysteriously sexy about him that I can’t put my finger on. I am not the only one that feels this way, if you search his name in twitter endless tweets populate with undying love and affection for this man. What is it about him? I mean he has created a mini craze over a pointy eared, bowl cut vulcan character out of a sci-fi flick. That’s talent.
And if by now, you aren’t 100% convinced about this man (or 100% convinced I am stupid or crazy), then I dare you to watch this video from photographer Tyler Sheilds. He posted the 3 photos and the video portrait this afternoon, and I am pretty sure I have watched it at least a dozen times. Good work Mr. Sheilds (Grab a Napkin for drool).
Hopefully this fixation will fizzle soon, so I can function propoerly. I am definitely getting too old for this. But until then, who would like to go see Star Trek on the IMAX screen tomorrow night? Any takers?
*Bonus* One of my other “Obsessions” post was about my original “celebrity” obsession, Mr. John Stockton. Once, in high school, someone told me he looked like Spock. I interpreted that this was supposed to be an insult, so I ran home and looked up Spock on my trusty AOL modem connection via 1999. Of course, images of Leonard Nimoy appeared, and I felt conflicted. While Mr. Nimoy was no Stockton to me, I could see what they meant, and Spock wasn’t all that ugly. In fact, he was interesting. And, from that day on, I would forever have fond connection to Spock. Stockton certainly was Spockish in mentality; he was a stoic and highly logical basketball player, who didn’t display his emotions and used his brains when he played the game. And, he IS indeed sightly Spockish in appearance. Just look and see. Resemblance?
I saw this floating around the internet right now, as I did some evening browsing thru my blog subscriptions. And for some reason, I had the urge to re-share this video on my blog.
“Magnolia” is not my favorite P.T. Anderson film, “There Will Be Blood” claimed that spot a year and a half ago, but this scene will always hold a special place in my heart. There is something to be said about the fact that he created a sing-a-long and montage that did not come across as cheesy. Quite the contrary, it feels potent and meaningful … it makes sadness extremely beautiful.
I remember feeling like I had grown up or matured a little bit when watching the scene for the first time. I was probably 18 years old, and had plenty of growing up to do, but at least I finally saw that sadness and isolation could look and sound so grand.
Why don’t you take a look at them?
Won’t you please?
Here is a teaser:
Watch a little Hazards of Love 4 (The Drowned) first, go ahead, sit back. Grab a cooool beer and listen to the sounds of Heaven:
I don’t mean to sound crude, but I just want to be honest with you, my dear reader. I feel you are mature enough to handle it.
I am 99.99% sure that the “The Decemberists” concert that I attended last night was better than sex. There is the possibility that I am wrong, and the next time I have a roll in the hay I can either confirm or deny this sentiment. But for now, I will stand by this outrageous and lofty claim.
I don’t buy concert T-shirts anymore. Ok, I just don’t.As a female, I never find concert shirts to be all that flattering and rarely will I actually utilize the shirt and justify the $25 dollars I spent due to a fleeting surge of enthusism I had for the band post-show. At a certain point in college, I thought it foolish to spend the money and simply stopped doing so. A poster, sure. A CD, yes. But a T-shirt, nope. It would only end up in my over crowded bottom drawer with other concert shirts, running shirts, and shirts from places like Branson, Missouri (seriously, I have one). In other words, shirts I may occasionally utlize for pajama’s or dusting off my computer screen.
But last night, I did it. I bought at T-shirt from “The Decemberists” Hazards of Love Tour. It fits quite alright actually, but more importantly I am so satisfied by the live performance I witnessed last night that I had to boast my attendence to strangers and friends by wearing the shirt around today. I want people to walk up to me and say “HEY! Nice shirt! I love that band!’ And I will proclaim, “WELL! YOU BETTER! And I was at the show last night, and it was amazing, and you are a fool if you missed it.”
There’s a little proof that I did indeed buy said T-shirt.
I am blabbing away about this piece of cotton that I am wearing simply to emphasize how amazing this show was. Seeing “The Hazards of Love” preformed in its entirety live was epic. I was in a group of 5 girls, and we all outrageously sung along to the music (and shouted obscene things at Meloy such as “Marry Me!!!! NOW!!!!”) and celebrated the very fact that we were experiencing the show! And I thought that this was all they were going to play, but NO! Then then returned to the stage to play some older songs which included “Los Angeles, I’m Yours!”, “I Was Meant for The Stage”, “July! July!”, and many many fantastic others. It was a night that left my body feeling like it was vibrating with energy and a smile didn’t leave my face until I had to fall asleep that night.
If you didn’t make it to this show, or this part of the tour, I highly suggest you catch them in November. In Los Angeles they will be playing The Wiltern. If you are a fan of music, Go! You will not regret it.
* Special Note *After years of serious debate and thought, I finally came to the conclusion last night (a tough decision for me) that in the ultimate indie man Battle Royale, Colin Meloy vs Ben Gibbard, that Mr. Meloy is crowned King. He officially reigns supreme in the Kingdom of Awesome. Let’s face it, as much as I love Death Cab and Mr. Gibbard, The Decemberists are simply more musically talented, and of recent years been a bit more imaginative with their music. “Hazards of Love” may not be everyone’s cup of tea (though it is mine), but it was a bold and respectable move to push their own musical boundaries with this epic concept album. Also, Mr. Meloy and Company is more entertaining on stage (and I have seen more than a few “Death Cab for Cutie” shows and multiple “The Decemberists” shows), his wife is way cooler than Zooey, and he has a kid named Hank (rad). *
I have landed back in Southern California.
Well, to be exact my 747 British Airlines flight of comfort and delicious food (only a little bit of sarcasm here, I was actually quite impressed with British Airlines) landed at 6″30 pm yesterday. My sweet Nana picked me up and took me back to her home so I could sleep off the jet lag and lack of hibernation on the 9 hour flight.
A 9 hour flight, that might I add, followed the sun over Greenland and Canada. I never once saw the night when it should have been night for me, this created quite a bit of confusion for my body and my mental state. So confused that I started to watch films on the plane that I knew were going to be crappy. Yeah, so what if maybe I watched “Bride Wars” and “PS I Love You” on my plane. So what? They were free, and its my right to not want to think to hard on a rigorous international flight at 37000 feet. Your brain doesn’t function properly at that hight (nor after consuming airplane beef lasagna).
Anyways, as I was saying, I have returned to what I call home. Sunny, Smoggy, Superficial, and Super California!
One thing I can tell you now about my international travel, and something my trip made me realize, is that it brought to my attention how strong my bond with Southern California is. I realized how different every place in the world is (you know, going to another country for the first time will do that to you), and how much the culture you live in assists in the creation of your identity. Your enviornment is ineventably attached to your identity and is a lens in which you view the world through, and weather I like it or not Southern California helped create who I am. It is home. So CHEERS! to Target, surfers and skateboarders, lack of accents, ABC, NBC, CBS, and an automobile dependent society.
Fact is that when I met anyone out in the UK and they asked me where I was from, I never answered with America. I answered with California. I feel much more pride towards this state than I ever knew until last week. And might I add, people love that answer. They OOOOHED and AAAAHHHed as much as I did to answers like Brazil, Germany, and Australia. California is up on a pedestal, and people find it fascinating. I guess I can’t blame them.
This doesn’t mean I am staying. Just because I realized I love home doesn’t mean that I want to never leave. It just means home is home, and I love it for what it is.
I fell in a deeper and more realistic version of travel on this trip, and it confirmed my decision to move to Prague in October. So, thus it will happen!
In the meantime I will begin to write and edit my journal notes from the trip and post them here over the next week.
I really look forward to the process of writing about London and Scotland, and also showing off my photos.
I also look forward to the Decemberists concert I am going to on Tuesday!
You know what I don’t look forward to? Any more damn earthquakes!
Yea! What happens when I return to my beloved California? A 5.0 earthquake, just a few hours ago.
I know, I know, I shouldn’t be on the internet. But I had business to do on my e-mail and I couldn’t help logging in once from the UK.
Let me keep this short though, I have a train to catch to head back towards London. Here are some quick bullet points I can cover you with right now:
- I don’t feel like the same person who left California a week ago.
- I don’t even know how it has only been a week.
- It is true that one travel day equals a week of life back home.
- Camden Town in London is amazing, and I got to go dancing there.
- I love London Museums.
- I love the tube.
- I rather enjoy boys from the UK.
- Edinburgh is beyond GREAT!
- Take free tours if you can.
- I took a pub crawl tour last night and am feeling the consequences as I type. But I don’t care, it was beyond worth it.
- Visit Barter Books in Northumberland if you ever take the train thru Alnmouth to Alnwick Station. It is charming and the owners are amazing people.
- Internet is not cheap. So I have to go :)
I have tons to share when I return to the states. Until then, much love.