Gran Tourino

Some time ago I saw the movie Gran Tourino. To this day I feel a bit odd for loving it as much as I did. Rarely does a movie explore race relations and racial tensions as honestly as this movie does.

Remember the Titans did it pretty well, but the two cannot be compared. We are two generations removed from those events, and we have the present to reassure us that the schools remained de-segregated. Furthermore the friction in that movie was mostly about color, for both blacks and whites speak the same language and had had roots in this land for several centuries.

The friction in Gran Tourino really lies in the difference in culture. The characters with beef were White and Asian. Catholic and Buddhist. English-speaking and non-English speaking.

The lead role, played by Clint Eastwood, was that of an All-American midwestern widowed man. His role alone spoke volumes of what America was and what it no longer is. Mr. Pawelchski was of Polish descent. Like the Germans, the Irish and the Italians, the Polish established themselves in the United States well before World War I. They faced discrimination and adversity upon their arrival. Eventually, their last names got common enough so that people stopped questioning their nationality, they became monolingual, and their distinguishing characteristics became less obvious.

Mr. Pawelchski's fold was his next door neighbor, a young Asian immigrant with no hope of ever getting a girlfriend. Like Latinos, Asians don't have a widely known presence in American history. Both still face discrimmination and adversity. Neither group's surnames have even begun to blend in with the rest of the mix. Neither dark skin, nor almond eyes will be ignored at an airport.

What really got me about this movie was its portrayal of distrust amongst us. We distrust each other, we fear each other and we segragate ourselves. We feel frustrated with what has become of our country, and we don't know how to turn it around. Instead, we blame it on each other. It was obvious that Pawelchski's character saw his neighbors as the cause of the American downfall. He had worked for GMC his whole life and hated the Japanese auto industry. He especially hated that his own son was a dealer for Toyota. Like Mr. Pawelchski, America had seen better days. From one generation to the next, America lost it's work ethic. Mr. Pawelchski's son, after all, was a materialistic, ambitious car-dealer whose poor excuse for parenting created materialistic, disrespectful, selfish children.

In his last days, Mr. Pawelchski passed on the torch of America's well being to his immigrant neighbor. Unlike Pawelchski's son, his neighbor was willing to take it. He learned about the value of honest labor from his elderly neighbor with great eagerness. And upon his neighbor's death, he was rewarded with a beatiful sportscar that was not to be defiled in anyway.

We should all take on that responsibility. I think America needs to revert to the work ethic present in the 1940's. They were after all, the greatest generation.


It's a really sad movie, but I highly recommend it.

Out for Blood

Not too long ago I visited Carter Blood Care so I could save a life and make a few bucks, but then I remembered that you only get compensated for plasma. When the medical assistant took my pulse, and saw that it was only 47 beats/minute, she told me that she would re-take it again in five minutes, but I could not donate unless it was above 50. By this time I was dead-set on giving blood because I had been feeling like a complete waste of oxygen at the time and wanted to feel a bit more heroic.

I just ended up feeling dizzy.

I had given blood once before and had no side effects whatsoever. No bruises, no dizziness, nothing. When the flobotomist finished taking my blood she proceeded to walk me to the snack station. We stood in the middle of the blood center as she explained to me how to go online and get my cholesterol results and blood type. I clearly remember telling her that I felt a little light headed right before she offered me a shirt. I don't remember refusing or accepting it...probably because I fell on my face before I got a chance to do either.

When I came to my senses, my glasses felt strangely out of place and not aligned with my nose at all. That's when I figured out that the floor was preventing their proper positioning. The blood ladies were super nice and brought me ice and water to help me recover. I didn't really want to. The feeling of unconsciousness is one of the most peaceful feelings I've ever had. I had never felt more rested. They gave me peanut butter cookies and juice and waited until I felt all better.

Much like Yossarian did with the chaplain from Catch-22, I fell in love with my blood lady. She was just so soft-spoken and nice that I had to go back and give another couple of pints. I made an appointment to give as soon as I become eligible again.

I checked the results of my mini-physical online and I'm in absolutely fantastic shape. Since the last time I gave blood, my cholesterol level has dropped 7 points to a healthy 149. My iron levels increased to 14.5 thanks to Jack-in-the-Box's Mini Sirloin Burgers. My blood pressure went down to 98/63, and I found out that I'm O-positive. That means I have Oprah particles on my blood cells.

In conclusion, give blood, but make sure you eat a hearty meal before you go give away your life juice.

10 Good Reasons to Elope

It seems to me that with every passing day I get older and older and every person around me starts hitting life milestones.  I've never had as many pregnant/engaged friends/acquaintances as I do now.  I feel like a silly teenager compared to all these women who are just swiftly hitting all the bases in a life homerun.  I've heard it's a southern thing to get married young, so maybe I'll move to NYC where I'll fit right in with all the Carries an Mirandas of the world.

Anyway, the only thing I've figured out is that I would not be a good mother and that I'm too lazy to plan a wedding and become a wife.  Then I figured I could still become a wife without all that wedding planning bull shit.  I could just elope, and it's totally justifiable. 

The first set of reasons revolves around the bill.  Who will foot the bill?!?

1.  As a Hispanic, I'm supposed to expect my fiance to pay for the wedding, but since most of my suitors are young and broke, it seems like my wedding food would consist of cheese and crackers. I could marry a rich older Texan like Jerry Jones, but then I'd end up like Anna Nicole Smith, and be married to said rich older Texan. At least I'd have 11 football players and 50 percent ownership to a state of the art architectural wonder left after Jerry's timely death.

2.  As an American, I'm supposed to be able to count on my dad to pay for the wedding, but my dad is a Hispanic who would expect my fiance to pay for the wedding.  He would get to the reception, receive his two crackers and three cubes of cheese and then lose all respect for my now husband who couldn't scrape up enough money to even get a can of Spam.  Anyway, what considerate bride would dip into her parents IRA knowning that so much of social security went to funding other things. 

3.  As a modern woman I'm supposed to be able to pay for my own wedding.  But as a modern woman, I'm educated enough to know that money is better spent on assets than parties.  I'd rather get some real estate with mineral rights.  Shout out to the Barnett Shale!!

Next is the problem of planning.  I hate planning.

4.  Making a guest list would be sheer torture.  There's only a few people in this world that I really love and they would probably already be sitting in my living room when I whipped out the envelopes.

5.  The logistics of making enough food for a wedding party can only lead to dry steak and sub par food in general.  Even $50 per plate dinners are cardboard-like when prepared for a crowd of 100.

6.  My taste in music is not quite party material, let alone wedding.  And I think it's a silly thing to plan a wedding for a bride and groom and then have to think of the guest list when making the play list.

Furthermore, there is the problem of traditions.

7.  I truly do enjoy clasping hands with all the single ladies at a wedding reception and running around in stilettos right before the bouquet is thrown.  However, I don't think I would like to be the bride standing in high heels on top of a wobbly stool with a half-drunk best man acting as a spotter as the only safety precaution.  All the while, clumsy single ladies snake around my makeshift platform in figure 8's.

8.  Can someone explain to me whose idea it was to have the groom stick his arm and/or head up the bride's dress in search of a garter while her parents (and the rest of the guests) look on. More importantly, why did everyone agree to it?

9.  I'm a pretty cosmopolitan woman, and I've been known to date interracially.  Have you ever thought of how hard it will be to plan a wedding cross culturally?  Just thinking about trying to blend two sets of traditions gives me a headache.

Lastly is the perk of location.

10.  Vegas, baby!