Monday, October 1, 2007
Video Diary: Room
What happens when you put technology, such as a digital camera, iMovie and Garage Band, in the hands of a fool such as myself? This happens:
I don't know why--okay, I do know why: boredom and lack of energy for physical movement and the overwhelming sense of going stir-crazy--but I made this short film giving you a glimpse into my pathetic life. You might not believe me (haha), but I have no formal training in video and music editing! :D BUT I will admit that I, myself, am playing the shakuhachi in the music track, albeit the track was edited and "enhanced" with Garage Band. The poem can be found on Brandy's Poem of the Day.
I had let the shakuhachi rest for a while, but I picked it up a few days ago to see how I was doing with the breathing. I got lightheaded after playing it for a couple minutes, which according to Roshi, is not necessarily a bad thing. But it does take an incredible amount of energy to maintain breath on the thing. I certainly don't have the patience to keep at it for very long during any given period of time (meaning, for more than three minutes). My parents and kids came home while I was playing it today, and when Chloe heard me, she said, "Where's that music coming from?" So I was a little bit proud that my child at least recognized my noise as "music."
By the way, I (re-)discovered another remedy for my muddy cottonmouth (I've been called "potty mouth" before, and am finding it to be so damning and true at the moment): salted dried prunes, which was a childhood favourite of mine. Thanks, Mom!
I don't know why--okay, I do know why: boredom and lack of energy for physical movement and the overwhelming sense of going stir-crazy--but I made this short film giving you a glimpse into my pathetic life. You might not believe me (haha), but I have no formal training in video and music editing! :D BUT I will admit that I, myself, am playing the shakuhachi in the music track, albeit the track was edited and "enhanced" with Garage Band. The poem can be found on Brandy's Poem of the Day.
I had let the shakuhachi rest for a while, but I picked it up a few days ago to see how I was doing with the breathing. I got lightheaded after playing it for a couple minutes, which according to Roshi, is not necessarily a bad thing. But it does take an incredible amount of energy to maintain breath on the thing. I certainly don't have the patience to keep at it for very long during any given period of time (meaning, for more than three minutes). My parents and kids came home while I was playing it today, and when Chloe heard me, she said, "Where's that music coming from?" So I was a little bit proud that my child at least recognized my noise as "music."
By the way, I (re-)discovered another remedy for my muddy cottonmouth (I've been called "potty mouth" before, and am finding it to be so damning and true at the moment): salted dried prunes, which was a childhood favourite of mine. Thanks, Mom!
October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month...
...and I hate Martha Stewart. Yet I'm watching Martha Stewart. Because today, her whole show is about buying things supporting breast cancer research and awareness. I'm feeling a little sick. Not because I don't support the cause, but because still--I'm watching Martha Stewart. It just happened to be on after Days of Our Lives, which I was watching while falling asleep. Then I heard Martha Stewart come on and was about to shut it off, but....cannot. I'm stuck.
It's kind of weird to suddenly be immersed and so directly involved in a cause--an awareness month. It's not like Asian American heritage month in May, during which Canada and the U.S. encourage me to be an angry and proud Asian American/Canadian, celebrating my heritage and saying a big F-You to racist bastards, like racist (and imperialist) bastards give a crap about Asian American heritage month. It's just...different. A different type of validation, encouragement, and propaganda. [Omg, the woman on Martha is talking about how to fashion a natural looking nipple and areola after surgery.--Martha is clearly uncomfortable and changes the subject. Funny.]
Anyway, I don't know where I'm going with this. I just feel like I don't know what to do with myself. I feel crappy enough to stay in bed, yet I feel like if I don't get out of bed and out of the house, I'll never feel better. The sun is semi-out, it's raining on and off, I haven't given myself my bone marrow injection yet and have an irrational fear of doing so (even though I've already given myself the injection two times). No one is in the house except for me. Lame.
But here's a picture. It's another one from the Run for the Cure yesterday. It's from my pal Judy, who's been leaving comments promising me pitchers of Caesars. So thanks to Judy for her picture, and for her Caesar recipe experimentation (J--you can try out batches right here in my kitchen!).
It's kind of weird to suddenly be immersed and so directly involved in a cause--an awareness month. It's not like Asian American heritage month in May, during which Canada and the U.S. encourage me to be an angry and proud Asian American/Canadian, celebrating my heritage and saying a big F-You to racist bastards, like racist (and imperialist) bastards give a crap about Asian American heritage month. It's just...different. A different type of validation, encouragement, and propaganda. [Omg, the woman on Martha is talking about how to fashion a natural looking nipple and areola after surgery.--Martha is clearly uncomfortable and changes the subject. Funny.]
Anyway, I don't know where I'm going with this. I just feel like I don't know what to do with myself. I feel crappy enough to stay in bed, yet I feel like if I don't get out of bed and out of the house, I'll never feel better. The sun is semi-out, it's raining on and off, I haven't given myself my bone marrow injection yet and have an irrational fear of doing so (even though I've already given myself the injection two times). No one is in the house except for me. Lame.
But here's a picture. It's another one from the Run for the Cure yesterday. It's from my pal Judy, who's been leaving comments promising me pitchers of Caesars. So thanks to Judy for her picture, and for her Caesar recipe experimentation (J--you can try out batches right here in my kitchen!).
Taste
Imagine sandpaper, cardboard, cotton, wood, and rust as replacing your taste buds, tongue, and throat, and you would know what my mouth feels like right now. Ever since the last chemo shot, I haven't been able to enjoy much of anything I eat, and when I'm not eating, my mouth feels like someone planted a muddy shoe inside it. I wake up thinking how awful my breath must be if the smell is an extension of the taste. A couple days ago, H and I went with Jenn to Rhizome, where I had a Caesar's (Clamato and vodka), and I smiled because it was the first taste I was able to enjoy in days. Alas, I'm not going to sit here and down Caesars all day. It's a nice thought, though.
Other remedies include: lifesavers (thanks, Sandra!), water with lemon, and...that's all I can think of now.
Oh, to eat and savour--big juicy marbled steaks, California rolls with real crab, turkey and provolone panini--anything with delicate, subtle tastes to deliciously pungent ones like some of my favourite cheeses. To drink sparkling water without it tasting like day-old flat soda.
Imagine.
Other remedies include: lifesavers (thanks, Sandra!), water with lemon, and...that's all I can think of now.
Oh, to eat and savour--big juicy marbled steaks, California rolls with real crab, turkey and provolone panini--anything with delicate, subtle tastes to deliciously pungent ones like some of my favourite cheeses. To drink sparkling water without it tasting like day-old flat soda.
Imagine.
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