Posts Tagged postaday
I have said this before: being raised abroad and then in the city made childhood visits to my maternal grandparents quite an adventure. My baby brother and I were treated like royalties and, apart from spoiling us a bit, it also made us feel extremely coddled. Each time the car doors slid open, we would rush into our grandmother’s arms. Then we would look over her shoulders to the well-governed agricultural surrounding and feel even giddier at the prospect of being exposed to so much nature. Not that the adults ever let us stray too far out of their sights. Not that we didn’t give escape a good try anyway and succeed.
Among one of our favorite haunts was to visit the old witch who lived on the edge of the village. She was still quite within the bounds of the neighborhood but her two-story delipidated ranch house was set all the way to where the mustard fields touched the hamlet. Her two-story ranch house was the only two-story ranch house of its kind in the village, for that matter.
Its wooden frames had browned with age and become swollen in places. Most of the exterior walls of the structure had come loose so that we could easily glimpse into its innards through the gaps and see how vacant and lifeless the rooms were. When she moved around in the house – and she was the restless sort – the creaks could be heard all the way across her barren yard to the copse in which my cousins and I hid to watch her. Read the rest of this entry »
“I think the table is slanting on your side, love,” Bob observed. “Yep. Look at the water in my pitcher. It’s definitely tipped towards you.”
Andy squinted at Bob as she chewed her burger and swallowed. “C’mon, Bob. Let me push some of this stuff onto your side.”
The table was laid in halves. There was Bob’s side, which contained a big bowl of salad – full of crisp romaine, shredded roast chicken, and diced watercresses in a blue cheese dressing – a glass, and a pitcher of ice water, immaculate as his appearance. He would be having a black coffee later. Then there was Andy’s side, laden with a dish of tomato soup, a double patty cheeseburger with the works, a large basket of fries dribbled with salt and vinegar, and a whipped cream topped peach cobbler, the list ending with an ironic Diet Coke. She had an extra plate to pilfer some of Bob’s salad onto. She couldn’t go without her daily intake of the greens.
“No bloody chance,” Bob now shot down her wheedling with a chuckle. “Serves you right for ordering more than you can eat.”
“Oh, puh-lease! I can easily pack away all of it, you just watch. I worked up an appetite in the ring.”
Bob arched an eyebrow, his usual firm smile in place. “Yes, kicking my butt should do that.” He didn’t look like he minded in the least having his butt kicked by a woman as he forked up some lettuce and crunched into the freshness.
He had such great teeth, bright, straight, strong, healthy. Like the rest of him, Andy muttered to herself as she bit into the only type of beef she could allow herself to enjoy. It was the first week of the month. Her period was due any day now. Must explain why she was feeling so… ravenous.
“Tell me what has you so worked up?”
Andy started at his question, blushing profusely. “W-what?” Read the rest of this entry »
Title The Apartment
Starring Jack Lemmon, Shirley MacLaine and Fred MacMurray
Director Billy Wilder
Writer(s) Billy Wilder, I.A.L. Diamond
Genre Romance Comedy Drama
Release Date September 16, 1960
Filming Location USA
Parental Guidance PG-13
IMDB Rating 8.3
Synopsis: C.C. Baxter (Jack Lemmon) works as a Premium Accountant at a top insurance company in New York City trying to work his way up the ladder. He is also a man who can’t say no to his superiors who all take advantage of his Buddy-Boy goodwill to use his apartment with the myriad of women they are having affairs with. In exchange, they put in a good word with the Big Boss Jeff Sheldrake (Fred MacMurray) in the staff review. Sheldrake, in turn, also takes Baxter for a ride in exchange of a promotion scheduled in the coming month. Unfortunately, this time the other woman is the Elevator Girl Miss Fran Kubelik (Shirley MacLaine), on whom Baxter has had a crush on for ages. Miss Kubelik is truly in love with Sheldrake and is duped into believing that he will soon be out of his bad marriage to marry her. When things come to blow, Baxter finds Miss Kubelik in his apartment after she consumes too many sleeping pills, a situation he must rectify to avoid jail as well as heartbreak.
Experience: It’s one of those romantic comedies that hits you where it counts. I came to know about it when MacLaine’s acting in the movie received an honorary mention at this year’s Oscars by Charlize Theron as her inspiration for joining Hollywood. MacLaine was certainly charming in the film, delivering her self-deprecating dialogues with deadpan humor. Her pixie look was just what is required for the small-town naiveté of her role, which she fulfills with subtlety. However, it was Lemmon’s performance that had me regaled.
This was one of those movies where the protagonist is utilized in nearly every frame and Lemmon proves his stamina for the role. His happy-go-lucky attitude is undercut with frustration at just the right level to evade the perception of his superiors. He does not try to portray a better character than his role demands, which is just a chump trying to make it big in the corporate arena and is not immune to corruption himself. For much of the movie, he is aware of being “taken” by his coworkers but he is not a moralizing fool. He can take care of himself when necessary. We can’t like him if we put on a holier-than-thou air and must allow him time to prove his mettle in his own time, which he also does with poignancy. With refined expressions, Lemmon gently tugs the heartstrings for this comic anti-hero. The catch is that eventually, he must forgo his self-serving goodwill with the Big Boss to become our damsel’s champion and the audience can well feel his panic.
Playing the villain, MacMurray also does not complicate his screen presence. He assumes a reflective quality as the Big Boss taking advantage of his junior by using his apartment while having extra-marital affairs. The role of Sheldrake is one who does not want to come off as the bad guy and, for the most part, does not think he is a bad guy. MacMurray steps in and out of the limbo between selfish actions and self-justifications with the quick pace required of a dramedy.
The screenplay is written with aplomb and directed superbly. It is fast-paced and gets right to the heart of the matter with quick scene shifts that do not undermine the ethos of the story. For all purpose, it is a romantic comedy with a backdrop of drama. We see a degenerate world where the sanctity of marriage is abandoned by the whole corporate society and wonder how any love affair is to flourish in such a surrounding. But then we also see a family present to guide the derailed and weary back to the light. Even amidst the drama, comedy is not forsaken to remind us of the promise of a happy ending.
Recommendation: Of course it should be watched! Once, twice, own the DVD. This is the stuff of classic romantic comedy, lovely from beginning till end.
Via: Daily Prompt – Cusp
I have always wanted to study literature. But the education system in Singapore is such that a student is streamed wholly based upon their exam grades. The pyramid, in descending order of scores, went: science, arts, commerce, IT, and crafts. Being generally a good grades-earner, I was matriculated into the science faculty for my ‘O’ levels. I finally had the opportunity to decide my own stream after my ‘O’ level exams – though not for the lack of trying from my counselor to take science again for my ‘A’ levels. But I was adamant that I would submerge myself in the classics. Arts it was.
Within six months of studying English literature, I wanted to put a bullet through my head. It was Y2K. And while everyone was recovering from the phobia of a total technological shut down upon the turn of the century, I was having a breakdown of my own. I realized how boring dissecting literature could be. I loved the text we were assigned: King Lear, Songs of Innocence and of Experience, Hard Times, Jude the Obscure, Othello, The Rivals. What I didn’t enjoy was the way my teachers went about teaching what to look out for in the exams. Read the rest of this entry »
I have been absent for a while from blogging. It is because I’m away – on a spring break, sort of speak – visiting my maternal grandma. It is a charming village bonded together by 29 hamlets founded upon the various bloodlines that co-exist in this corner of Bangladesh. It is my first visit in almost a decade and I don’t know why I have put it off for so long.
The weather is super fine. Winter was not very harsh this year and I believe we are experiencing the mildest spring of this century so far. The scents of life throbbing from every bush and shrub flutters through the air wherever we tread and it is made even more pleasant by the fragrance of food cooked on primitive earthen stoves fired by dry jute stems. To say the daily walks through the village and the surrounding paddy fields and woods have been reviving is not saying enough. I may have found something akin to elixir.
I used to love visiting my grandma’s as a child. Having been brought up overseas, the simplicity of village life was a novelty whenever we came back to Bangladesh. People would welcome me and my brother as though we truly were a little princess and prince. Yet, we stopped visiting this cocooned world with its near primitive lifestyle because somewhere along the way we grew up and became too worldly. We accepted that we must move at the speed of globalization and cannot be charmed into living ensconced from progress. Yet, my grandma and her neighboring relatives and friends have chosen to stay.
They have their difficulties but we all have difficulties, don’t we? They have chosen this set of challenges and we have chosen our set. And when we greet each other in the avenues their smiles are so genuine it is as though they have each swallowed a star. They must be content, they must be happy, no?
I’m not without all modern facilities. The Internet, for example, is very much available to me. But I’m enjoying village charms too much to attend to my blogging obligations for the moment. There will be time enough for technologies when I return to the flurried self-absorption common in cities. This week, however, I must drink in nature and satisfy my thirst for the bonhomie of my fellow mankind.
While I can.
Andy clipped her client on the chin, forcing him to throw his head back with the blow. Next, she got down on her haunches and threw one leg out, swiveling it to push her client’s legs out from beneath him. All six-feet-three-inches and two hundred pounds of him came crashing down with an outraged gasp on the boxing ring bed, making her jump up to regain her footing as the structure quivered all around them. Grinning down at Bob around her mouthguard, she prepared herself to face his rebuke. However, he seemed less than inclined to satisfy her irritable mood today.
Bob groaned into a sitting position and rested his elbows on his upraised knees. Spitting out his mouthguard into a gloved fist, he leveled his resigned moss-green eyes up at her. “That must’ve been some meeting you had with your old man yesterday,” was all he commented.
Andy spat out her own mouthguard, disgusted by his consoling tone. She was itching for a thrash-out and he was refusing to take the bait. What must a gal do around here to get an able and willing male opponent in the ring? “Meetings with my dad are nothing if not out of the ordinary. You should know that by now.”
Bob grunted non-committally. He pushed himself off the bed with the sheer strength of his legs alone, his calf muscles bunching and releasing with the effort. Andy tried not to gulp audibly. Her pelvic floor muscles, however, she thought she heard squeak with yearning. Not that she would respond to such yearnings; Bob was her client, after all. Read the rest of this entry »
Well, doesn’t that just hit the spot! Even the smallest of compliments has me blushing like a hen laying an egg so you can imagine what a tizzy I’m in right now. For the longest part of my life, I suffered an inability to accept compliments without recycling numerous questions in my head to its verity and reason. Fortunately, those days are somewhat behind me now.
These days, I appreciate any form of feedback – from compliments to constructive criticism – on my writing but I really must thank Ally L. Mare of Write Ally! Write! for nominating me for the Versatile Blogger Award. Being acknowledged for your work feels like a shot of espresso – except it’s a shot of motivation – and I hope I will only improve my storytelling skills with time.
This opportunity has also prompted me to reflect on the importance of appreciating the Works of Others that are not only available via mass media but also those within my own blogosphere. Sure, we ‘Like’ and comment and sometimes reblog, but greater recognition for an overall job well done is also necessary.
Now, in abiding with The Rules of the Award, I dedicate this week’s installation of WEDNESDAY REFLECTIONS to some of my fellow bloggers: Read the rest of this entry »
“Hi, Dad.” Andy stared into a pair of eyes identical to hers in more ways than just the shade of larkspur and hooded lids. They matched her discomfort too. “Can I come in?”
He shrugged and walked away from the open door to his condo. Andy walked into his Florida home for the first time, closing the door behind her as she tried to rein in her curiosity. Driving up to the complex, walking through the grounds and lobby, riding up the designer scented elevator, she had been amazed by the glamor and upkeep of the property. The inside of her father’s apartment, however, suited more with his lifelong philosophy.
There was something called minimalism and then there was how Allen Tybalt lived.
Growing up with an austere man such as Allen had been challenging every step of the way. His job had their family moving a lot. Even though he was always away for on-site projects, Andy and her mother had to keep accompanying him to new cities every couple of years because Allen insisted that they live as a unit.
Allen had been a power plant engineer, the best in his field apparently. He earned a sack full of salary every month but never allowed Andy’s mother to decorate their myriad of residence as she wanted. Whenever her mother proposed the idea to buy something for their home, Allen would insist the venture unnecessary since they would have to move again anyway. That a family subjected to as many location transfers as theirs be unencumbered by possessions was perfectly logical so her mother never argued. Besides, few people won an argument with Allen.
It was just as well because Andy’s mother died in a road accident when Andy was just twelve years old so she doubted her mother would have gotten much time to enjoy a fully decorated home.
“You have a nice setup here, Dad,” Andy now said, looking around. “Suits you.” Actually, upon closer look, the furniture did appear to be very vogue even if sparse. “I’m not sure how easy it will be to pack the Zeng Fanzhi painting if you decide to move,” she added, staring at the article in question hanging over the long blue crushed velvet couch.
“I hide the money behind that. Besides, I won’t be needing it where I’m going next,” Allen grumbled. Read the rest of this entry »
Via: Daily Prompt – Luck
“Do you understand what I’m saying? For some reason, the Almighty has granted me the kismet to work with all these great men and women,” proclaimed the subject of the autobiography I’m commissioned to pen at the end of epitomizing a long list of Bangladeshi industry leaders and their various contributions. My subject himself was no less than one of our country’s pioneers of tourism and hospitality who has his fair share of epaulets.
The scene was from last Thursday night at his house; the occasion was his nine-year anniversary of steering the property where I first caught my hotelier bug. Most of the party had dispersed and he was still entertaining the few who lingered. He loved holding court and as he was such an excellent storyteller, we loved hearing him recite the same tales over and over again. We were not all -ians, mind you. His remarkably eclectic experiences had a way of bringing people together from all walks of life, making any shindig he threw – no matter how small or large – a collection of the most interesting characters.
As I looked around at the intimate circle of reposing handful, whose faces were still lit by his unwavering energy, I wondered if they were picking up the same message I was. Few leaders reach greatness without sacrificing some part of their integrity so it was unlikely that so many of my idol’s idols were as perfect as he painted them. In the nine years that I have known him while working at the — hotel and holding our bond steadfast after moving on to other organizations, I have seen him be taken advantage of by many self-serving individuals. However, he refused to deduce their intentions as ill. If he could come to someone’s assistance, so be it.
Like most heroes, mine isn’t without imperfections. In fact, his is the best kind of imperfection. His culpability is to so easily forgive the faults of others, his obstinant loyalty. Truly, the lucky ones are the people who have had the privilege of working with him.
I have withheld my subject’s personal information because I do not wish to have him accosted by busybodies before the work is finished. However, as I’m sure some of our common close friends will easily deduce his identity, I request them to keep it under a tight lid.