grandchildrens' mysterious powers and a burgling puzzle

I was just putting on my shoes, about to leave my parent's house after a Sunday lunch, and I saw my little nephew, Marcus, run giggling past a doorway, followed not long after by my dad, making monster noises with a cushion balanced on his head.

I was suddenly reminded me of the scene in The Godfather when Vito Corleone chases his little grandson through the tomato patch - not because of what happened after, but because here before my eyes this stern patriarch was transformed into putty - a plaything at the mercy of a mischievous two-year-old. This perfect moment was rendered and sealed so exquisitely in a movie older than I am - and I can't explain why this makes me so... full of wonderment. Is that the word? I don't know, but it's the best one I can think of right now. I think it reminds me again of why I'm so in love with the movies, and more importantly, why I want to make them. Cinema is life distilled and preserved onto celluloid. It picks out all its meanings with its highs and lows and complexities, and gifts all the best parts to anyone watching it.

And here comes the obligatory 'excuse my sentimentality' comment - only that I don't really feel like apologising for being dewy-eyed this time. So there.

... so ...

this is completely unrelated, but on my mind, so:

Here's a conundrum that I'd welcome opinions on: when we got burgled the other week, the thieves took a big fat drawer of about 100 spare miscellaneous cables, at least 10kg, including 4-5 heavy old transformers that correspond to appliances or hardware that we can't remember having, but still can't bear to chuck the power sources for. They didn't take any boxed CDs or DVDs, but they did take these cables, and no matter how I think about it, it's a mystery.

Explanations offered have been along the lines of:
1) they took a video camera, and decided to empty out the cables just in case they were needed for the camera.
I don't buy this because the camera bag itself had a power cable and batteries in it. Besides, if they were so keen to get all the possible cables for the camera, why didn't they rip the cords from the adjacent computer? And why did they leave the clearly labelled Sony battery charger which was just lying there on the floor for all would-be burglars to see?
2) they had a warehouse full of other stolen hi-fi that needed cables to work.
If they were that organised, how come they left all our hi-fi and DVD players untouched? And if you did steal these things, why wouldn't you grab and RCAs and antennae cables and power cables that were connected to the things anyway? Either way, it still doesn't make any sense.

I wonder if this will ever be solved. I'm almost hoping that when/if these guys get done, they'll have to undergo some 12-step rehabilitation programme where they have to confront their 'victims', just so I can sort this weirdness out.

Breakfast:
Congee with leftovers.
Verdict:
Don't mean to divulge too much, but this is the best thing for sore, sensitive intestines.

meanderings of self-help

Ostensibly, things are going well. But I've had a really unpleasant foreboding feeling for about 2 weeks now. It manifests as an irritability, a grumpiness and over-sensitiveness to things which may or may not be there. Sometimes it's a melancholy more than an anger. I think I hold it responsible for my utter distractibility when I'm supposed to be writing. Or the fact that I don't like what I'm writing, and end up not writing anything at all.

I think I'm increasingly aware of a jadedness that creeps up a few years after the end of film school. There's been a few knock-downs, there's been a few assholes, and you get to this point where everything you do is terrifying. You're terrified of what they might think, you're terrified that you'll fail, you're terrified that even if you do get somewhere, someone will look at what you've made and say "why the hell did they get funding for that stinking heap of crap?".

I attended a screening for a film production club at uni, and I was confronted by an enthusiasm and unconditional love of film that I'd almost forgotten. It was almost an epiphany, seeing all these open, excited faces who didn't seem to care if they made stuff worthy of Ed Wood or Martin Scorsese, so long as they were making film. I mean, it's not as if I know more about this stuff than they do (which I don't), but if there was one thing I was almost jealous of, that I really thought I should learn from them... it was their plain-and-simple, unadulterated, unfettered passion for the whole damn thing. All this crap about doing well, or making something critically acclaimed, whatever self-conscious insecurity I'd wrapped around myself, was just put into stark perspective. I don't think I've ever really lost that idea of passion, or why I'm here in the first place, but sometimes the crap just clouds everything up, and essentially, that crap doesn't matter.

I guess it just comes down to personal conviction. I think I've been letting the opinions of other people influence me too much, and my wanting to please them is just.. well, sad. I think maybe that's always been my problem, I desperately want people to like me, even strangers, and I'm prepared to make myself a fool for their good graces, which ultimately, is unattractive and conducive to them liking me less.

I remember my sister telling me all this dating advice she'd had from friends - 'treat them mean, keep 'em keen, don't call until the 3rd day after' - type shit, and me thinking that it was a stupid game, why wouldn't you just lay your cards on the table and say "here I am. If you don't like it, oh well, nice knowing you"? The difference as I see it: the first technique is about pretending not to care, when in fact you might care a lot, so it's a lot about deception and inscrutability; the second technique is just about being honest. I mean, what is so wrong about someone saying "actually, I know we've only been on one date, but I really like you. I just wanted to say that, and if you don't feel the same, I'm sorry, but I'll learn to live with it"? I think I would find it brave and charming, not to mention fresh and disarming (woops, I didn't mean to rhyme, but there it is). Sure, being rejected might take chunks out of your self-esteem, but I think being direct first-off would save a lot of hard feelings in the future around unreturned calls, 'hints' and the ironic term 'letting them off lightly'.

I think being honest is the hardest, and yet most admirable and healthiest thing to be. I know it sounds easy for me to say when I'm in a stable relationship, but even a stable relationship has its instabilities, and (without wanting to sound smug) being honest hasn't steered us wrong once. Touch wood. I guess I just don't see how avoiding the issue, or ignoring an issue, or calling it an imagined issue can help an issue at all. I mean, even if it is imagined, it's still there, so it doesn't make it less real.

Anyway, I think I digress. Or not. Because I think the goodness of honesty applies to all relationships, romantic or otherwise. I guess I'm a simple soul, I like honesty in other people, and I want to keep it around me. I think I have to keep saying to myself that I can't help what other people think and how they choose to interact with me. With this realisation, I can stop letting it effect me so much. I can find honest people and engage with them. And there's really no point trying to encourage honesty when it's not forthcoming, so I can simply disengage and should stop worrying about it. When and if it comes, goody. Until then, I guess I'll learn to live with it.

Breakfast:
rice with a dried scallop omelette thing my mum made for me to take home yesterday
Verdict:
That's more like it! If I had a lettuce or bean sprouts, I'd have cooked some to have with it...

cognitive shortcuts, and then some

"Stereotypes are in fact cognitive shortcuts... the reality is that the social world is pretty bloody complex, and we can't process everything that's going on at one time."

This quote came from political psychologist Marc Wilson in an article I was interviewed for.

It makes a lot of sense to me. Prejudice and assumptions about certain groups of people are... well, laziness. A natural laziness, yes, but laziness nonetheless, with all of its pejorative connotations well-deserved. This is something we are all guilty of, including myself.

However, I never really realised how deep and disturbed this systematic laziness could go until I started receiving negative feedback regarding my most recent film, Banana in a Nutshell. I'm lucky that I can still count the totality of these responses on one hand, but three, count them - three of them are from Chinese men who accuse me of being part of a western conspiracy to stomp on Chinese men by making 'white' men look good.

First of all, just because I love Stephen, and Stephen happens to be 'white', doesn't mean I hate all other men of other colours. The only Chinese guy in the film is my Dad, and who doesn't have problems with their fathers? I've said it before, and I'll say it one more time - I love my Dad, and in hindsight, I think what he requested of me and Stephen was very wise. I don't know how much more clear I can make this. And I don't understand how people can take offense for the entire subset of Chinese men from this damn film, unless they already have a big fucking chip on their shoulder about it. Go figure.

Secondly, let me explain why I've recently felt the need to put quotes around the term 'white' and 'Asian'. There has been plenty of discourse in the circles I hang around in about the problemmatic term of 'Asian', and how it homogenises a diverse range of countries and cultures into one big lump. These usually 'Asian' commentators will then turn around and use the term 'white' with absolutely no qualms, without realising that 'white' is a problemmatic term for exactly the same reasons.

So, this from the most recent email, naming me as part of the western 'assault' on Chinese men -

"Asian men are the most marginalized maligned group in the anglosphere... The only news that is printed about China, about Chinese and indeed asians in general is negative. Media and film portrayals are overwhelmingly negative. We are the victims of a vicious propaganda campaign waged by white people."

I'm not about to dismiss this completely out of hand. He may have a point, albeit a slightly hysterical one. The thing is, you find examples for whatever you're looking for. I can name some examples to the contrary - sexy, charismatic 'Asian' hero types in the western limelight - the winner of 'Survivor', Yul Kwon, John Cho in his comedy and theatre work, Masi Oka in 'Heroes' and Bobby Lee of MadTV. Yes, I think Bobby Lee is sexy. I don't know what it is... but let's move on, shall we?

I mean, I have a personal bee in my bonnet about 'Asian' women being portrayed as whores in western media, being these little dolls who sit around and do nothing but provide sexual favours on demand for big, strong, non-'Asian' sugar daddies. I saw The Quiet American the other day, on someone else's recommendation, and I was completely gobsmacked at the utter two-dimensionality of the Vietnamese female character, who somehow led an elderly journalist and a young CIA operative around by their dicks the whole movie by making puppy eyes, speaking in very high, breathy, supposedly stilted English, and handing out, as far as I could tell, excellent sex.

I'm not exaggerating here. There's a scene where the Michael Caine and Brendon Fraser characters are in a tight spot, and they get through it by imagining what the common object of their affection is doing right now - eyes glazed over, Michael Caine talks of her going to meet her friends for the latest gossip, looking at magazines, dancing around in her room to Bach, which he introduced her to, because apparently she is incapable of being a superficial girly girl who wants nothing more than to fuck, dance and gossip. I mean, she wasn't even a character, she was a prop, a trophy, a prize for the two men to fight over. The writer obviously wanted these men to have a strong reason to want to undermine each other, in addition to the political intrigue, so he stuck this Vietnamese ex-prostitute in the picture, and seeing as we all know about the exotic allure of these sexy play-things, he didn't feel the need to give her an actual character. And I don't want to hear about how 'she represented innocence, something that both men wanted to protect'. They said she was an ex-hostess, they made it very clear that the price for sex, for both men, was a ticket out of Vietnam. I see these examples in innumerable films, TV programmes, music videos, and it makes my blood boil.

But the thing is, I'm being a little frothy at the mouth myself because there are plenty of examples to the contrary - strong, vocal 'Asian' women characters in western media. For instance, kick-ass females in Kill Bill, Charlie's Angels, or Tomorrow Never Dies (it's either whores or kung fu babes, I hear my inner feminist cry). Maybe so, but anything that Sandra Oh has done in the last few years - Grey's Anatomy, Sideways, Under the Tuscan Sun - is exemplary stuff. These characters have strong points of view that are neither 'good' nor 'bad' - they are real, complex, three-dimensional and wonderfully realised by an extremely talented actress. The examples against might outweigh the examples for, but multiculturalism is still a pretty new thing. I'm not excusing it, but there are positives to look for as well as negatives.

The thing is, there's no convincing some people. The three Chinese men who have accused me and the film of being hegemony's bitch are so far into operating in cognitive shortcuts that NONE OF THEM have actually seen the film. Why? Because I believe they are too proud. I believe that they see what they want to see. I believe they are playing a blame game to somehow make them feel better about past greivances in their lives. It's petty, and misguided, and I really doubt that it makes them feel better about anything in their supposedly shitty lives.

"We are discriminated against in the dating scene - often by asian women."

Believe me, if a cute Chinese guy had actually asked me out before Stephen did, I would have jumped at the chance. Noone had EVER so much as asked me out before Stephen did. In fact, my sisters had to pull in a favour with a Chinese friend of theirs to go with my 16-year-old self to the ball, and he ditched me before the afterball. I have Chinese guy friends who have penchants for dating blonde girls. If I didn't have Stephen, I could well be wondering why I've been discriminated against - often by Asian men. These days I'm as likely to swoon for Tony Leung and John Cho as I am for Christian Bale (though I stand guilty of over-exposing the whole Bale thing in this blog). What I want to know is what business a Chinese guy has of accusing a stranger, probably half-way around the world, who made a niche documentary on her own dollar, for hindering his love-life? How on earth does someone make a leap of logic like this? So you have a stink love life. Join the queue, buddy boy. Blaming me for making this doco is misguided, and... well, sad. Ach, I'm repeating myself.

Oh. My. God.

I just this moment got a reply email from this guy, and he has shown himself to be a complete psycho. After using a number of ill-picked 'historic' examples to back his original treatise, threatening me, and insulting me (apparently my face is stupid and vacuous), here's his last words:

"The hatred that I and many of my brothers have for you is absolutely indescribable.

It is white hot fury. It is a fury and hatred that is absolutely illimitable and could light up a thousand night skies. But more importantly it is an indignant and righteous fury."

Riiight. Now I really know I'm wasting my time even dealing with this issue. Why is it only crazies and fundamentalists who have time on their hands to trawl the net for films like mine? Is it because they're bums? Bums with no girlfriends or boyfriends? I pray to god that they aren't the majority. Though, with the way the world is today, who fucking knows. The more I think about it, the more I get angry and/or despair.

There is so much 'us'-ing and 'them'-ing that has become apparent to me through this madness, and it makes me sick to my stomach. Apparently as a Chinese woman, I'm the property of Chinese, or at least 'Asian' men, and to go to any other man is some sort of betrayal. Making a film about it is beyond betrayal, it's... treason? Or something. On the flip side, my 'white' man is the property of 'white' women, and for him to go to any other woman is another betrayal. Why? Because, apparently, we are on the brink of losing ancient cultures that have survived centuries, and by the mere act of being with each other, we are destroying these cultures, seemingly singlehandedly.

Someone, please tell me this isn't the way that most people think. My god, I need some sort of assurance that the ideals I grew up with about peace and love and getting on, and valuing our common humanity aren't some misguided pipe dream invented by corporations to sell greeting cards. Every time I get an email like this, I'm reminded that hate-filled people like this actually exist, that some people actually want to see war and famine and destruction, and humanity trampled on and destroyed for no good reason. And then, I despair. I really despair because I there's so much I don't know about, and worst of all, it seems there is nothing I can say or do about it.

It seems that way, and yet I think I have to keep trying. I'm not trying to be melodramatic, lord knows I'm aware how cheesy that last sentence sounds. I just trying to find a way to deal with this really shitty realisation.


Breakfast:
A peacherine. Cross between a nectarine and peach, in synergistic deliciousness.
Verdict:
I had more to eat later. It was just what I felt like at the time.