Disney's Paperman

I'm a sucker for Disney movies. I know they're for children, but damn if they don't hit you right in the gut. My friends and I recently drove down to Virginia Beach again to meet our friend's handsome little baby and we were treated to not one, but two Disney films: Tangled and The Princess and the Frog. Don't ask if her four-year-old daughter was even around for the majority of it.

This week, Disney released its Oscar-nominated silent short Paperman online in its entirety and it features a new art technique that seamlessly blends CGI with hand-drawn animation. The result is quite gorgeous and the story, about a New York City missed connection, is based on the tried-and-true, but with a sweet twist.

P.S. It totally reminds me of Signs, another short film released in 2009.

Beasts of the Southern Wild

Last week, I went out to see the Oscar-nominated film Beasts of the Southern Wild. Set in a rundown Louisiana bayou cut off from the rest of the world by a levee, the story follow 6-year-old Hushpuppy as she tries to make sense of her life in the rundown Bathtub community. Her mom is no longer in the picture and her ailing father, Wink, has compensated with a tough love that's touching and yet painful to watch at times. Hushpuppy is left to retreat into her imagination while holding fast to what little she understands.

Tiny actress Quvenzhané Wallis is so wonderful to watch (off-screen as well), no wonder she's been nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress, the youngest one yet. Now you might wonder how much acting a 5-year-old is capable of and if she was just fed her lines and actions bit by bit, but no matter because she just wraps you up with her facial expressions alone. Her interactions with her daddy, played by Dwight Henry, reduced me to tears.

All of that said, on our train ride home, A. turned to me and asked, "Did you understand the movie?" I gave plausible explanations to the plot before I had to admit that no, I didn't entirely get it either. It had moved me and all, but there were some blanks that would be nice to have filled in for some closure. But seeing as the film has already garnered praise and awards and is in the running for Oscars in Best Picture, Best Director, Lead Actress, and Adapted Screenplay, perhaps everyone else has understood something we clearly missed.

Have you watched it yet? Did you get it?

Image: afistofculture.com

The Flowers

A few times a week, A. will pick me up a flower, send a midday photo text during lunch, and then present me with his gift at the end of the day. He began doing this in November after noticing that the florist next to his new job asked passersby to take a fallen bud from a table. Even though he says it takes him no effort or money, I not only adore the gesture, but have come to appreciate the thought he puts into styling each flower for its shot.

Three years in, it's a cute and lovely surprise. The man who's never been into the flowers, the chocolates, or any of that romantic Valentine's Day hoopla, has me suddenly smiling and feeling as if I'm being wooed all over again.

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Being True

These days I've been trying to become more in tune with my gut. To listen closely and then not go against what it's asking me to do out of sheer stubbornness.

When there's a decision to be made, I think we usually know what we're pulling for. It's like that trick where you flip a coin and before it even lands in your heart you already know what you're wishing for. I know I do. The asking for other's opinions and seeking advice on what to do sometimes just serves as validation, reassurance that it's okay to want what we want, to do what we want to do, that later on we won't find ourselves peeking over our shoulder to discover we're standing alone. (It also gives a direction to point a finger towards if things go awry.)

But I go against my own grain. There's several reasons for it - seeking attention, pity, comfort, unrealistic expectations, this crazy notion that everyone else comes first, etc. - but at the end of it all I just end up feeling unsettled, as if I'm not quite comfortable with where I am, who I'm with, or what I've agreed to. All because I couldn't be true to myself.

How much more happier would I be if I were always doing what I truly wanted? Instead of going out of my way to meet up with someone on a hectic day, I could just spend a quiet evening at home and be completely unapologetic about it. I wouldn't have to shuffle between excuses or relenting, but rather affirmations and acceptance, standing firmly in honesty.

Being authentic means being open about makes you you. Because if you can't even stand up for what makes you tick, then how will anyone get to know who you truly are?

Image: kal barteski

In a Swirl of the Classical

I've never been a regular listener of classical music, but in the last week have suddenly taken to it like a feather grabs the wind. It's been one those things you never knew you craved until you get that first shiver and suddenly you're swirling waywardly about in its clutches, leaping, crying out for more. It soothes my mind to such mesmerizer that if I close my eyes I can almost feel the pirouettes on my brain. Can I admit that I've nearly been brought to tears at the realization that such emotion could emerge from the fragile strings of a violin?

I always thought I needed lyrics to sing along to in order to feel connected to the music, but it isn't so. Now unless I look at the title of the composition, I wouldn't know if I'm listening to German, Italian, or French because it's all one and the same: concentrated beauty, bouncing between the space of heavy and light, making its mark through the air.

Classical music blends in too well. It so easily fades into the back of my consciousness until I come back to during an arrestingly beautiful moment and realize that it'd been playing all along. The music is happy to exist without competing for attention. It isn't exhausting nor jealous, but simply breathes and in turn allows you to flow freely through its space, at your own time.

When the music is over, the silence feels so still. Just like the darkness is defined by an absence of light, there's music and then, a sudden void when the movement has passed on.

Do you listen to classical music? Which composers do you love?

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