A Narrative Point of View

September 22, 2011 1 Comment

After the 10th anniversary of 9/11, I was reading a New York Times piece called “The Meaningfulness of Lives” about, well, what makes life meaningful.  The author refers to Susan Wolf’s catchy definition when “subjective attraction meets objective attractiveness” that, from what I gather, is doing something important that also feels like it’s worthwhile.

But the point I latched onto most was the whole concept of life having a trajectory, and therefore one’s life is a narrative, and I am the player or actor living it.  It is defined and driven by who I am shaped by experiences and events, from which meaning is derived.  “There are narrative values expressed by human lives that are not reducible to moral values,” Todd May writes.  “Nor are they reducible to happiness; they are not simply matters of subjective feeling.  Narrative values are not felt; they are lived.”

Last weekend I needed something to lift my spirits so I popped in my DVD the 1982 movie “Victor/Victoria,” which always managed to pick me up.  Brightening the viewing experience more was the commentary with its director Blake Edwards and his wife Julie Andrews, who starred in it as well as the Broadway musical version.  Later watching the TV Emmy awards, I realized Blake Edwards had died last year at the age of 88.  Having heard him in conversation with his beloved wife the night before barely a year after his death is even more poignant, especially the moments when he seemed to disappear because he was enjoying simply watching the film, and she would have to pull him back into voice.

Blake Edwards’ checkered life and career seemed to mirror each other, culminating in the movie I was watching last weekend.  While he was known for the Pink Panther movies, “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” and “10,” his last success was the Broadway musical of “Victor/Victoria” in 1995, according to The New York Times upon his passing.  He said in one interview: “My life has been a search for a funny side to that very tough life out there.  I developed a kind eye for scenes that made me laugh to take the pain away.”  He wasn’t perfect, but in my book, his life meets the tests of what makes it meaningful:  Blake Edwards made me laugh and even cry.

Filed under Philosophical

Literature and a Movie

September 20, 2011 Leave a comment

One of the joys of surfing through cable TV is hitting upon a channel I normally don’t get access to and seeing a movie I would never think to watch and actually liking it.  That was my experience when I came across “Possession” on Movieplex on a Saturday night.

The 2002 movie is an adaptation of the book of the same name about two literary academics, played by Gwyneth Paltrow and Aaron Eckhart, who go on a serendipitous investigation of the lives of two Victorian poets reverently known for their fealty toward their partners.  Jeremy Northam and Jennifer Ehle portray the bards/star-crossed lovers, whose white-hot relationship is juxtaposed and connected through time with that of the intrepid investigators.

In no small way, the movie re-opened the door to my sophomore high school English class when I was introduced to poetry and ignited more than a passing fancy for language and English literature.   Although I still  open up a book of poetry to refresh my memory and rejuvenate my spirit, it slips my mind more often than not to go back to it, perhaps because it no longer has the power to ground me.  Admittedly, it feels frivolous and antiquarian.  But I should tell myself these aren’t the things that should be stowed away as I get older.  Poetry and literature is still the conduit to our souls just as the other arts continue to speak to the human experience.

Filed under In My Life, Philosophical

Friends with Boundaries

August 10, 2011 Leave a comment

I have a close married friend who was also my co-worker.  When we go out together, people might think we’re together-TOGETHER, but of course we’re not, since we respect the obvious boundary:  He knows he’s married, and I know he’s married.  Maybe it’s because of that dynamic that we have such an honest and comfortable friendship.  He’s a fanatic about sports, like I am, most of all football—soccer to him, American grid-iron for me, and mutually, tennis.

Culturally there is also a familiarity.  Spain was the colonizer of our native birthplaces—the Philippines for me, South America for him.  And we also love food and traveling.  I have spent some of the most memorable times with him, for instance, following up the theater and a late-night supper with drinks at the Marriott’s “The View” room overlooking Market Street with the Bay Bridge in the distance.  Our exes, well, really his, occupied most of our conversation.

The last time I saw him was when he took me out for my birthday to a tapas place this year.  The original plan was oysters and wine at the local village wine bar, but when we started perusing through a tapas cookbook in my apartment, it was a no-brainer.  This time around we discussed his football and travel stories while he was in his teens, and he gave me a story idea.

A friend once told me she could not imagine a platonic relationship with anyone whom she was attracted to, married or otherwise.  I guess a part of me believes in living dangerously, or quite frankly I enjoy our friendship more than desiring to even go there.

Filed under In My Life, The Bay Area

He’s Da Wan

July 29, 2011 Leave a comment

My nephew Finn scares his mom half to death when he would suddenly exclaim, “DA WAN!!”  It could be interpreted in so many different ways, like “that one” to indicate a preference, albeit a demanding one that clearly unnerves my sister.

Baby Finnster

Or perhaps he’s trying to say “don’t want,” like the aforementioned but in the negative.  We’re often asked what it is we want, and in the absence of that, we say, “Well, I know what I DON’T want … .”

But if he were following my dating life, perhaps he’s giving me a cryptic message: “The One.” I didn’t know he was quite the romantic.

It’s probably frustrating for a toddler to communicate with grown-ups, and I want to tell him it’s even tough sledding between adults.  Of course he’s only two.  He has lots to learn, but if I were to venture a guess, he just might be smarter than I will ever be.

Filed under In My Life

My Brilliant Dating Career

July 8, 2011 Leave a comment

It was one of those low-maintenance Friday nights, in which there was no need to get gusseyed up to venture into the singles jungle, since I was simply going to my local village grocer, Canyon Market, for a wine-tasting of Bonny Doon wines from Santa Cruz, California.  But just like that I was transported back to the company of an old flame who introduced me to Le Cigar Volant, Bonny Doon’s whimsical red.  That night, an Albariño and Syrah were being offered, which were both lovely.  Later when I was at Bird & Beckett Books & Records up the street, walking through the old-fashion bookstore’s ever pregnant shelves while a live jazz band played Gershwin and Cole Porter, I spotted a record of the jazz great Thelonius Monk, the last CD I bought that same old beau.

It seems as though I am having a lot of those Marcel Proust moments lately, an object or thing evoking whole memories, like a business card of a French restaurant in Cow Hollow where I had dined with an insignificant other that, I discover, is now resurrected as an American bistro in the Castro.  Perusing through more business cards, I found one of a restaurant in New York City with a waiter’s contact information, which reminded me a rather complicated situation with the above-mentioned boo.

So now it’s time to change things up.  I recently met a published fiction writer whose stories are about young, volatile love.  There’s no such thing as deal-breakers but simply the torrid feelings between the two main characters.  Love goes through walls regardless of the circumstances.  I wish I believe it were so simple, but that isn’t my experience.   I was older when I was properly in love.  Heartbreak came and went, and I’ve learned to manage my expectations when it comes to relationships and dating.  I’ve tried e-harmony and internet dating.  In the 90s, there was, believe it or not, telepersonals.  The bars will never go out of style as well as meeting-cute on the streets or public transportation.  They’re really all a zero-sum game.

Dating isn’t my strong suit, but I realize I’m better hanging out with friends who are open to meeting other people or willing to introduce me to others while we’re out and about.  There’s no pressure or expectations, just pleasant conversation and sharing things we enjoy.   As much as I don’t mind remembrance of things past, the opportunities before me are also exciting.  It’s the thrill of something new, and if it happens that he’s an old soul who laughs easily and has a passion for living (as well as a fan of my beloved sports teams—well, this could be trained), then I suppose that’s a pretty good place to start.

Filed under In My Life, The Bay Area

New Reality, Family Ties

June 29, 2011 Leave a comment

After turning 40 a month ago, I didn’t know when I would come down from its high, and really I didn’t care.  There were so many warm and positive wishes that I told a friend, who wants to avoid 40 like the plague, I couldn’t wait to cross that four-decade threshold.   It may have explained the anxiety I was experiencing a few days (and quite possibly a whole month) beforehand.   To underscore my point, I referenced a pop song: “Feeling the Same Way” by Norah Jones.  The end of my thirties was becoming like Ground Hog Day.  I was tired of going through the same things all over again.  When 40 came along, it felt like a clean slate, no more of the old feelings that bewitched, bothered and bewildered me in my rather safe and, dare I say, vanilla thirties.

But eventually, the bubble did burst during the course of this busy month, and I returned to reality, though to my relief not quite the same one.  Woody Allen once said 80 percent of life is showing up, and at a time when I needed it most, especially in this economy, it is my family that has come through for me.  That day I saw my folks and nephew, and all was somewhat right with the world.

It used to be that my parents, siblings and I were on either coasts of the United States, a nice arrangement for people who have their own independent lives.  If there was a time when we would intrude, it would be the ever so convenient long-distance phone call or the occasional birthday, holiday or get-together after work for dinner and drinks.  Now that my family is more or less in the same location, as temporary as it may be, I’ve had to adjust my reality to not only having them closer in proximity, but also in dealing with a different set of family dynamics as well as old long-standing ones.  But I suppose I’ve grown to embrace them too, as challenging as they may be some days.

It’s rather fitting that my Spanish friend Maria, whom I hadn’t heard from in more than ten years, contacted me via Facebook on my birthday.  Our birthdays are two days apart.  She once told me that after all is said and done, family is everything.  Here, I allude to another pop song, Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide,” and the line that goes, “time makes you bolder/children get older/and I’m getting older, too.”  The last time this song spoke to me, I was almost 30 during a moment I needed to wise up about something.  I guess she isn’t too far from the truth.

Filed under In My Life, Philosophical

Letter of Thanks

June 11, 2011 Leave a comment

When I received your letter saying you are retiring after so many years of practice, I was happy that you would be moving on and segueing into another interesting part of your life.  Although I hadn’t seen you for a few years due to a change in insurance, I was still saddened.  Like most endings of enduring relationships, I ran in my head a retrospective of our visits together.

In particular, what immediately came to mind was into the first few years as my doctor, you recommended a procedure I wasn’t familiar with, and I inquired what precisely you intended to do.  Next thing I knew, you had stepped out, hauled in what looked like a trombone case,  and showed me the instrument and how you planned on using it.   I appreciated this candid demo, as unwieldy as it was in such a small space.  You were a straight-shooter when it came to my health, no matter the questions I would ask.  You were my doctor and nothing else.

Yet every visit you also managed to be very kind.   Once you told me, “There’s nothing wrong with you, Rachelle.  You’re perfect.”  You could imagine that remark would go a long way.  At one point, I joked to friends you were the only steady I was seeing all year.  It was tough, but what I needed most during that time of uncertainty was a rock, which you were.  Eventually, I got passed it, and here I am, as healthy as I could ever be.

On a side note, there was the time I unexpectedly ran into you at the theater shortly after a visit.  You said you picked up tickets for “Spring Awakening” on the street upon hearing the musical was a comedy.  You were waiting for your wife.  I didn’t want to break it to you that while it had funny moments, “Spring Awakening” wasn’t exactly a bundle of laughs.   That was, I believe, three years ago, the last time I saw you.

A doctor once told me the only physician a woman really needs is her gynecologist, which, it turns out, isn’t entirely true.  (Well, he was in orthopedics.)  But for a long time,  that’s who you were, an abiding beacon through some storms and choppy waters, in this woman’s life.

Filed under In My Life, Philosophical

Back to the Hollywood Classics

May 20, 2011 Leave a comment

I  grew up on a steady diet of Hollywood classics and musicals, but getting older and wiser, I jettisoned the heavy portions of  happily-ever-after, love conquers all and pipe dreams.  I became more inclined toward pragmatic, no-nonsense entertainment–with the exception of the last two months.  I was willingly and pleasantly drawn into those same old guilty pleasurable moments of sweetness and light as I followed the 12th season of “Dancing with the Stars.”

I am also a diehard Pittsburgh Steelers fan who was raised in the former Steel City, obviously rooting for Hines Ward and his professional dance partner Kym Johnson to win it all.  But it became more than a dance contest after this week’s show because of Kym’s terrifying injury.  It put competition in greater perspective and thus pushed the show to another level.  They went on to dance the Argentine tango of a DWTS lifetime.

Watching this show turned a minor diversion into an almost obsession.  I signed on to the Hines Ward & Kym Johnson Dancing with the Stars Facebook fan page, and I couldn’t believe how deep the enthusiasm ran–wall-to-wall postings of photos, footage, interviews and even dance analyses by some rather clever observers.  It took my mind away from worrying about paying for dental work,  imagining once again the magic Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers once created on Hollywood sets and soundstages.  With such ease and flow that belie endless hours of practice and rehearsals, they expressed the story of their romantic coupling in dance.  The fourth wall is torn down; in my opinion, it has the intimacy of a play.

While folks try to figure out Kym and Hines’ chemistry–will they or won’t they–I like to compare them to Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck in “Roman Holiday.”  They were two appealing actors who had immense respect and admiration for one another, with the latter, who was a bigger star at the time, even admitting without hesitation that the then-starlet stole the 1953 movie from him, and she deserved top billing as much as he.  They embodied my ideal couple–reserved, smart, attractive and simply lovely together–just like Hines and Kym who are so complimentary toward one other it’s not clear who the star is.  The final dances almost seem moot.  Next week with them, though, there’s no shame in riding off into the sunset.

Filed under Da Burgh

Touchstones

May 13, 2011 Leave a comment

The creative process this week was a rather terrifying and sometimes lonely journey, and I thought of my literary touchstones, like Louise Erdrich who choose to bravely venture out every time a book needs to be birthed.  Last year, I read “The Blue Jay’s Dance,” her memoir on motherhood, and it got me through a period that required crazy courage, like the one described in the title.  As the bigger hawk encroached, the blue jay outside the author’s window would go into this whirling dervish so odd and ludicrous, she observed, that it bordered on the humorous.  Although the jig never guaranteed the predator wouldn’t kill the lesser bird, the latter demonstrated it wouldn’t give up without a fight.

Later in 2010, I read Erdrich’s most contemporary work of fiction to date, “Shadowtag,” and its astounding power bowled me over that I completely stopped reading literature altogether.  Maybe it’s because my dream was often intertwined with her lyrical, achingly beautiful prose, and the pause made me reevaluate what was keeping me from breaking free at the end of the year.

Now, halfway through 2011, I’m feeling a little jumbled, but at least I broke my self-moratorium on fiction-reading.  I rediscovered Anne Tyler’s books, most notably “The Accidental Tourist,” and I realize the creative process doesn’t have to be so black and white.  There are so many other stories to be told by other voices.  As I write this, I am reminded of these guys, Denis and Francis (http://www.wliw.org/marcopolo/), explorers who traveled the ends of the earth, following their historical touchstone.  Indeed, it is all about the journey, which is, for now, being present and moving forward in a haze of uncertainty.

Filed under Philosophical

Another 10 years …

May 5, 2011 Leave a comment

It is only fitting that the last ten years, as I approach my 40th birthday this month, is bookended by 9/11 and the death of Osama Bin Laden, the instigator of that tragic event.  Ironically enough, I turned 30 in 2001, and I remember freaking out even a year before about the whole thing.  The year appeared to bear out all that anxiety–I lost my job and the one dream at the time I had for myself.

My thirties, I would characterize, were a more mature, responsible period of being gainfully employed, paying bills and pretty much playing it safe.  The next decade, well, I would predict, would be a hybrid of my twenties and thirties–grown up, yes, but with a hint of excitement and a new investment in my dreams for this upcoming lifetime.  A little hokey, but that’s what my friends in their forties are want to say, especially my female friends who claim it is the penultimate time in a woman’s life.  Judging from my intrepid anticipation, I might just say they are right.

Filed under In My Life, Philosophical

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