Friday night I went out with a few folks to see the Red Doors at the North West Asian American Film Festival down in the International District and late happy hour after that at McCormick and Schmicks ($4 fresh salmon burger, $3 for 3 raw oysters, yum). I was struck by how few films were in the festival and how few people attend. I have to remind myself sometimes that this is not San Francisco where tickets sell out days before the day the film screens and there are lines stretching for blocks to get into the theatre. Are there that few Asians in Seattle? Are they just not into the arts? I think it might be a combination of both?
I had a first today. I went out to a film by myself. Kudos to me for getting to the ID and back without the guidance of a GPS unit. There was something awesome about going to see a film by myself. No one to keep track of, wait for or talk to. Today's was a collection of shorts called Asian American Activism and I really enjoyed it. They varied in theme and length but all were well chosen and thought provoking and it was just this kind of stimulation I needed to come up with some more research ideas and just get into that head space. After the film, I went next door to have a bowl of pho before heading to Fremont to pick up my glasses which took forever to adjust thanks to my lopsided ears and large lump protruding from one side of my head which I think is a part of my skull. On the way home I stopped off at the liquor store and learned that WA state taxes the shit out of liquor here. Good thing there's always duty free.
Tonight I went to a classmate's potluck. You know when people in movies jump off a building and seem to scream forever and ever until they finally hit the ground? I had that moment tonight but I wasn't jumping off any buildings. I had finished looking at some photo albums and stacked them up on the floor. I turned around to get the big tupperware full of rice and stir fry I had brought and walked toward the sink forgetting that I had just put that pile of albums on the floor. Next thing you know I'm wondering why my foot is not making contact with the floor. Rice is flying everywhere. My foot finally reaches the little rug on the floor and then I slip violently and lose all control of my center of gravity for a second time. It felt like a lifetime before I finally landed knee first then body in a heap on the floor still clutching the tupperware now only half full of rice and stir fry. I guess it really is engrained in Chinese people not to waste food and to hang onto it for dear life. It was acrobatic and spectacular. I could tell from the look on everyone's face. One woman commented that at one point I reached a completely horizontal position in the air. Luckily I was in the company of people I consider friends now and, oh yeah, no bleeding and just a sore knee. Not even a bruise. I am a rock star.