I really, really, really wish I had made this

http://fuckyeahprancingcera.tumblr.com/

The Adventures of Milo and Otis

We all remember one of our childhood favorites, "Milo and Otis" (1989). If you know me at all, you'll know I am a kitty fiend, and as a child I was not so picky so I vastly enjoyed books and films about dogs as well. And orcas, dolphins, and pandas. "Milo and Otis" (in the same vein as "Homeward Bound" (1993)) features both cats and dogs, which automatically renders it superior to lone-canine tear-jerkers like "My Dog Skip" (2000) and "Old Yeller" (1957). Most of you probably don't know that "Milo and Otis" is a Japanese film released in 1986 as "Koneko Monogatari." I certainly did not. Leave it to the Japanese to pioneer talking animals, though.

So anyway, I was watching this beloved childhood classic the other night, and I could not help but notice how fucking terrified the kitten appeared in almost every single scene. Floating down the river in a crate? Check. Attacked by a crab? Check. Mauled by a bear? Check. Drenched in a freak storm? Check. The film reportedly had the approval of the American Humane Society prior to filming, but I cannot help but wonder how many Milo and Otises the director went through by the time 90 minutes were up.

Anyway, sometimes I ponder the nature of such films in which different animals are required to interact with one another. Most of the time the circumstances for a bear to "play" with a kitten and a pug to come to the rescue do not present themselves by nature. So how are these movies made? My guess is that hours and hours of footage of the animals doing their thing are taken and the story kind of follows. What do you think?

Apart from the adorableness factor, the Japanese naturalist cinematography is pleasing to the eye, and Dudley Moore's subtly silly narration is enjoyable. None of these things overshadowed the winces I experienced every time Milo meowed in obvious terror. Or maybe I've just outgrown the charm of the talking animals.

Summer Reading: I read them, so can you!

House Rules by Jodie Picoult

if you like: sentimentalism, dysfunctional families, autistic humor

Kings of Infinite Space by James Hymes

if you like: Office Space, cults, large-breasted brunettes

Winter's Bone by Daniel Woodrell

if you like: grit, American lyricism, redneck lit

Give Us A Kiss by Daniel Woodrell

if you like: hillbilly noir, Faulkner, unfulfilling sex scenes

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer

if you like: beauty, stream-of-consciousness, rereading old letters

Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer

if you like: holocaust lit, crying, Jewish inside jokes

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie

if you like: sarcasm, teenage boy humor, hope

Little Bee by Chris Cleave

if you like: trauma, responsibility, yelling at characters in a movie about how stupid they are

Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell

if you like: Horatio Alger, questioning stereotypes, questionable research

Blink by Malcolm Gladwell

if you like: being sold something, business lit, skipping over chapters that don't suit your interests

The World Luvs Scott Pilgrim

There is but one word to describe "Scott Pilgrim vs. The World," and that's 'fun.' Director Edgar Wright masterfully synthesizes elements of the graphic novel and film into a creation that is a nod to nerds but accessible to all. It is difficult for me to walk into a movie and set aside all criticism. The same went for this movie. I noticed the transitions that seemed like iMovie mistakes and the repetitiveness of the fight scenes (are there really going to be seven?). So will probably most people. Fifteen minutes in, I gave up trying to make a list of glitches because, well, I was having so much damn fun.

I watched the entire movie with a mesmerized grin on my face, only interrupted ever so often, by a need to whisper (probably too loudly) to M "wait, isn't he/she from x?" So yes, the fight scenes are somewhat exhausted after Evil Ex #2, but in a way each of these scenes serves as a number in a musical; often similar but binding in a most necessary manner. My only real problems with the movie didn't surface until a day or two after the viewing. The thing is, Scott Pilgrim is a rather unlikeable fellow. Another thing is, what makes Scott go so crazy for Ramona? Knives is totally hotter, and Ramona is neither particularly nice nor interesting. If you can get past these weaknesses (and Cera's unending man-boy awkwardness), I highly recommend "Scott Pilgrim vs. the World."

Baking Bread!

Today I spent the day with a girlfriend who had just returned from several months in Namibia. After exchanging stories, we decided to get down to business and complete our challenge for the day: baking challah bread.

Challah bread is a delicious, eggy bread, similar to brioche, that is traditionally eaten on the Sabbath. It is absolutely delicious eaten plain, dipped in honey, doused in olive oil and balsamic vinegar, slathered in butter, or even as a sandwich bread. In other words, it is incredibly versatile.

We used this basic recipe from Allrecipes.com (always a winner): http://allrecipes.com//Recipe/challah-i/Detail.aspx. The only things I'd suggest would be to use one extra yolk to give it an extra eggy taste, and to use more honey than the 1/4 cup required by the standard recipe. You can also add raisins or poppyseed into the mix if that's your thing. I'm kind of a purist.

A supplement to the last blog post

On Solitude

I've been thinking a lot about solitude and so, recently came across this article (http://chronicle.com/article/The-End-of-Solitude/3708). Why are we so terrified of being alone?

I definitely cannot say that I am untouched by the occasional feeling of loneliness, but I am honestly working on it each day. After my mom died, some deep-rooted belief of mine was shattered--a belief that everyone who is in your life will continue to be in your life until the end of time. This idea may sound ludicrous, but until you lose someone, to understand seems ludicrous as well.

Because of the experience of losing someone close to me, I began to practice enjoying solitude every day. A common misconception is that solitude equals loneliness. This is not so; solitude is the act of being alone, while loneliness is what occurs when one grieves that solitude, as Deresiewicz stated in his article. Therefore, being alone does not imply that one is lonely, but only without the company of others.

This summer is probably the most solitary one I have ever spent, but it has also been one of the least lonely. When I first arrived in Walla Walla for the summer, I was worried. I was certainly not working 40-hour weeks, which my contract stated I would be (there are only so many hours of French film one can consume per day before crying "uncle!"). There were fewer people around than I had expected. The gym, climbing gym, and student center were open for very limited hours of the day. This meant I had a lot of time left on my hands to fill up each day.

Like I said, I was skeptical. I would feel great till about 6 pm, powering through my research, working out, eating lunch, and napping. Then the evening hours hit and with them the realization that I had no one with whom to share them. It was a sad realization, and resulted in a mild dose of depression and self-pity, until I remembered what I had been practicing every day.

I started making a list of things I wanted to learn to cook and/or bake. Fuck the fact that I was living alone and could only consume one quarter of what every recipe yielded, I would make it anyway. Instead of simply eating my meals, I began thoughtfully creating them. I went out and bought a harmonica at the local toy store and messed around on it for twenty minutes every night. I went out alone to the local art walk. I spent hours alone at various (ok--all three in Walla Walla) coffeeshops poring over the NYTimes crosswords (I owned Monday-Wednesday, but during the second half of the week would have to find something else to do). I chatted up baristas, strangers, and latte neighbors. I went on evening walks by myself through the residential neighborhood behind my apartment building, quietly listening to the dinner clatter of families inside their homes. I wrote.

And you know what? I survived. I head home in two days. Not that any one place is necessarily less "solitary" than another, but at home I have my family, friends, and city. But I remind myself that everything--even the family, friends, and city--is ephemeral. Beyoncé had the right idea in "Me, Myself, and I":

"Me, myself and I

That's all I got in the end

That's what I found out

And it ain't no need to cry

I took a vow that from now on

Ima be my own best friend."

This post is not intended to renounce family, friendship, or love. Quite the contrary. But I do think we need to stop texting everyone in town when we are at lunch with a friend, just to make sure we won't be alone after lunch is over. Go do stuff on your own for once. You'll be okay.