My friend, David Law, made this for a class. Enjoy!
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Harps
Disclaimer: People who love harps may be offended by this post. People who own harps will very probably be offended by this post.
I think harps are stupid. Well... mostly just pretentious. But also kinda stupid.
Why do you need a harp? The answer is... you don't. Whenever I see someone playing the harp I feel like they're judging me for using Suave shampoo and owning Sketchers. I feel like their homes are made of gold and they only come into public to make people feel inferior by playing an instrument that costs as much as a Toyota Prius. They are the bourgeoisie and I am the ukulele proletariat.
Harps are pretty, certainly. But so are fountains, and at least you can throw stuff at those. Harp owners have very specific rules about activity regarding their harps. You're not allowed to touch harps, move too erratically around harps or breathe too forcefully in the direction of harps. I've never been more tempted to jump around and wave my arms in every direction than when I was around a harp.
Harps produce lovely music, certainly. But listening to harp music really just makes me feel like someone has strapped me into a chair and forced me to watch non-stop footage of clouds and waterfalls. Meanwhile, I imagine the harp yelling at me, "This music IS ethereal and you LOVE IT." Do I, harp? Do I? I know I'm supposed to, but really....? Let's get some accordion in here and call it a day. At least you can polka dance to accordion music. I've never polka'ed but I know I would prefer it to having beautiful images shoved into my eye sockets while getting brow-beaten by a stupid harp.
Fast forward about 20ish years. Imagine my 13-ish-year-old girl child comes up to me and says:
Girl Child: Mom, can I have a harp?
Asia: No, but you can have an SUV because they cost the same and one is considerably more useful and less dumb than the other.
My girl child will be so much better off. And so will the world.
I think harps are stupid. Well... mostly just pretentious. But also kinda stupid.
Why do you need a harp? The answer is... you don't. Whenever I see someone playing the harp I feel like they're judging me for using Suave shampoo and owning Sketchers. I feel like their homes are made of gold and they only come into public to make people feel inferior by playing an instrument that costs as much as a Toyota Prius. They are the bourgeoisie and I am the ukulele proletariat.
Harps are pretty, certainly. But so are fountains, and at least you can throw stuff at those. Harp owners have very specific rules about activity regarding their harps. You're not allowed to touch harps, move too erratically around harps or breathe too forcefully in the direction of harps. I've never been more tempted to jump around and wave my arms in every direction than when I was around a harp.
Harps produce lovely music, certainly. But listening to harp music really just makes me feel like someone has strapped me into a chair and forced me to watch non-stop footage of clouds and waterfalls. Meanwhile, I imagine the harp yelling at me, "This music IS ethereal and you LOVE IT." Do I, harp? Do I? I know I'm supposed to, but really....? Let's get some accordion in here and call it a day. At least you can polka dance to accordion music. I've never polka'ed but I know I would prefer it to having beautiful images shoved into my eye sockets while getting brow-beaten by a stupid harp.
Fast forward about 20ish years. Imagine my 13-ish-year-old girl child comes up to me and says:
Girl Child: Mom, can I have a harp?
Asia: No, but you can have an SUV because they cost the same and one is considerably more useful and less dumb than the other.
My girl child will be so much better off. And so will the world.
Monday, April 4, 2011
The Time I Was a Knife Smuggler
Once upon a time I had these 3 cool friends: Todd, Trevor, Jordan. They were all film students who had gone on their missions to Cambodia. We met in film classes and always had a jolly time. One day they decided that they wanted to go back to Cambodia to make a documentary as part of a school project. I invited myself to come along. They didn't believe that I was serious about going until I purchased a plane ticket. Then they understood that when Asia invites herself to things, she MEANS it.
Side note! I am SO lucky that the Liam Neeson movie Taken hadn't come out yet. My mom flipped when she saw that: "Why did I ever let you go to Cambodia!?!"
Anyway.
One sunny May (or June...?) day, we went to the Salt Lake airport and began the crazy travel to Cambodia. We were to fly to LA, then to Taiwan, then to Saigon/Ho Chi Menh City, then to Phnom Penh. We checked our bags, then began the process of going through security. While in the security line, Todd realized that he had forgotten to check his knife (a knife that he always carried in his pocket to use for random reasons at random times). Our bags were already checked. We were in the security line. This was just a big problem because he really liked that knife and it was a gift or something.
So, being a kind and gentle friend (who also had a small crush on Todd), I offered to carry the knife in my back pack. Why did I think this would work? What? Looking back I feel like the idiot girl who did the idiot thing and could have gone to jail or something. But I was 19, excited to go to Cambodia with my friends and felt like being a knife smuggler could be a fun adventure. I'm a sucker for adventure... So at the time, it really didn't seem like a big deal.
Anyway.
So we put the knife in my back pack and I put my back pack on the security belt so it could be scanned by the TSA people. I walk through the security-doorway-thing and made it to the other side. Surprise! My bag was flagged, pulled off of the conveyor belt and searched. They must have seen the rather large knife I was attempting to smuggle out of Utah.
Here's the disturbing part -- they searched and searched, but found no knife. They zipped up my bag and gave it back to me. I was off, scot-free. And I still had a knife in my back pack. I had smuggled a knife through security at the SLC airport... and it wasn't very hard.
Once we were at our gate, I told Todd about the security incident and we were both relieved that his knife was not confiscated, but at the same time, we were very worried about our safety because apparently it is pretty easy to sneak scary things through security. The likelihood that we were surrounded by guys with bazookas in their back pockets had increased.
Anyway.
Then we make it to LAX, the largest and scariest airport ever. We had to go through security again because now we were flying internationally and we had to leave some kind of terminal to go to another one la la la the point is I still had a knife in my back pack.
We waited in line patiently, people from every corner of the globe waiting with us. Finally, it was our turn to go through LA's security. I took my cell phone out of my pocket and put my back pack on the conveyor belt. I walked through and when I went to collect my back pack, the TSA people looked worried. They pointed at their screen (most likely it was at the HUGE KNIFE IN MY BACK PACK). But -- get this -- when they went to search my bag, they pulled the wrong back pack off of the belt. The person behind me also had a back pack, I guess, and he was the one who got searched. Seriously. I grabbed my bag and headed for my gate.
I had successfully smuggled a knife through two airport security portals. Disturbing? Yes.
Then we were on a plane for 67,4223412145 hours and finally made it to Taiwan. In Taiwan, we went through security for a third time. We were tired and gross-looking and Taiwan was weird and different and kinda dark and had too much flourescent lighting. But nonetheless, we lined to be to security-fied.
I stepped forward. I put my back pack on the conveyor belt. I walked through the metal detection thingy. On the other side, I was greeted by a tall Taiwanese man who looked down at me and said, bluntly, "You have a knife in your bag." I looked up, groggily and responded with a simple, "Yep." Then he said, "We're going to have to check your back pack and put it under the plane with the rest of your luggage."
Really?
That was it?
I could have done that in Salt Lake... All I had to do was check my bag.
So, I didn't go to jail in a foreign, poorly lit country; I didn't even get a slap on the wrist. And when we were headed back to American from Cambodia, Todd checked his frickin' knife.
And that, my friends, is how I became a knife smuggler. Moral of the story?? Ummm.... I don't want to say "airport security in America can be kinda sucky", but really....
Side note! I am SO lucky that the Liam Neeson movie Taken hadn't come out yet. My mom flipped when she saw that: "Why did I ever let you go to Cambodia!?!"
Anyway.
One sunny May (or June...?) day, we went to the Salt Lake airport and began the crazy travel to Cambodia. We were to fly to LA, then to Taiwan, then to Saigon/Ho Chi Menh City, then to Phnom Penh. We checked our bags, then began the process of going through security. While in the security line, Todd realized that he had forgotten to check his knife (a knife that he always carried in his pocket to use for random reasons at random times). Our bags were already checked. We were in the security line. This was just a big problem because he really liked that knife and it was a gift or something.
So, being a kind and gentle friend (who also had a small crush on Todd), I offered to carry the knife in my back pack. Why did I think this would work? What? Looking back I feel like the idiot girl who did the idiot thing and could have gone to jail or something. But I was 19, excited to go to Cambodia with my friends and felt like being a knife smuggler could be a fun adventure. I'm a sucker for adventure... So at the time, it really didn't seem like a big deal.
Anyway.
So we put the knife in my back pack and I put my back pack on the security belt so it could be scanned by the TSA people. I walk through the security-doorway-thing and made it to the other side. Surprise! My bag was flagged, pulled off of the conveyor belt and searched. They must have seen the rather large knife I was attempting to smuggle out of Utah.
Here's the disturbing part -- they searched and searched, but found no knife. They zipped up my bag and gave it back to me. I was off, scot-free. And I still had a knife in my back pack. I had smuggled a knife through security at the SLC airport... and it wasn't very hard.
Once we were at our gate, I told Todd about the security incident and we were both relieved that his knife was not confiscated, but at the same time, we were very worried about our safety because apparently it is pretty easy to sneak scary things through security. The likelihood that we were surrounded by guys with bazookas in their back pockets had increased.
Anyway.
Then we make it to LAX, the largest and scariest airport ever. We had to go through security again because now we were flying internationally and we had to leave some kind of terminal to go to another one la la la the point is I still had a knife in my back pack.
We waited in line patiently, people from every corner of the globe waiting with us. Finally, it was our turn to go through LA's security. I took my cell phone out of my pocket and put my back pack on the conveyor belt. I walked through and when I went to collect my back pack, the TSA people looked worried. They pointed at their screen (most likely it was at the HUGE KNIFE IN MY BACK PACK). But -- get this -- when they went to search my bag, they pulled the wrong back pack off of the belt. The person behind me also had a back pack, I guess, and he was the one who got searched. Seriously. I grabbed my bag and headed for my gate.
I had successfully smuggled a knife through two airport security portals. Disturbing? Yes.
Then we were on a plane for 67,4223412145 hours and finally made it to Taiwan. In Taiwan, we went through security for a third time. We were tired and gross-looking and Taiwan was weird and different and kinda dark and had too much flourescent lighting. But nonetheless, we lined to be to security-fied.
I stepped forward. I put my back pack on the conveyor belt. I walked through the metal detection thingy. On the other side, I was greeted by a tall Taiwanese man who looked down at me and said, bluntly, "You have a knife in your bag." I looked up, groggily and responded with a simple, "Yep." Then he said, "We're going to have to check your back pack and put it under the plane with the rest of your luggage."
Really?
That was it?
I could have done that in Salt Lake... All I had to do was check my bag.
So, I didn't go to jail in a foreign, poorly lit country; I didn't even get a slap on the wrist. And when we were headed back to American from Cambodia, Todd checked his frickin' knife.
And that, my friends, is how I became a knife smuggler. Moral of the story?? Ummm.... I don't want to say "airport security in America can be kinda sucky", but really....
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
The weather is warming up and it's almost time for summer! This means it's time for swimming, camping, bonfires and other summertime adventures. Speaking of summertime adventures, last July I had a little adventure of my own. See below.
Once upon a time, I was working on a film set in Alpine. We were up on the mountain and it took several windy residential roads to get to our basecamp. Every so often, I would have to exit our mountain hideaway and go into civilization to make copies of stuff.
One of these times, something strange happened.
I was in my super presh little jeep headed to copy call sheets and I was stopped at a stop sign. An SUV was coming so I waited patiently for it to pass so I could pull out behind it. As this SUV passed, though, I thought I saw something strange. Time slowed as it drove by, left to right, and I was 95% there was a cat on the roof. A cat clinging on for dear life, mind you.
I pulled behind the SUV and my fears were confirmed. There was a fluffy white cat having a panic attack on top of the car. After the initial "huh... that's a cat" wore off, I was struck with the definite possibility that this cat belonged to some precious child and it would be flung from the SUV on the highway and baby tears would be the only result. I decided this was not a good plan.
I started honking my horn like a psycho. What else could I do? I rolled down my window and waved my hands. After a moment, the SUV began to slow. It pulled over onto the side of the road. I pulled up next to it.
A mom and her 3 children looked at me like I was insane.
"Do you know you have a cat on your car?"
I pointed weakly.
The mom let out an exasperated sigh. I had a feeling this was a repeat offence. Wily kitty.
"Oh goodness. Thank you."
Having delivered my intended message and not really sure what else I could do, I pulled out. But looking in my rear view mirror as I drove away, I could see the kids getting out of the car and trying to figure out the best way to remove the terrified animal. I smiled to myself. Good deed AND super strange situation. Awesome.
That was one of last year's adventures. I hope this year will hold more and I hope you have some good ones too :).
Once upon a time, I was working on a film set in Alpine. We were up on the mountain and it took several windy residential roads to get to our basecamp. Every so often, I would have to exit our mountain hideaway and go into civilization to make copies of stuff.
One of these times, something strange happened.
I was in my super presh little jeep headed to copy call sheets and I was stopped at a stop sign. An SUV was coming so I waited patiently for it to pass so I could pull out behind it. As this SUV passed, though, I thought I saw something strange. Time slowed as it drove by, left to right, and I was 95% there was a cat on the roof. A cat clinging on for dear life, mind you.
I pulled behind the SUV and my fears were confirmed. There was a fluffy white cat having a panic attack on top of the car. After the initial "huh... that's a cat" wore off, I was struck with the definite possibility that this cat belonged to some precious child and it would be flung from the SUV on the highway and baby tears would be the only result. I decided this was not a good plan.
I started honking my horn like a psycho. What else could I do? I rolled down my window and waved my hands. After a moment, the SUV began to slow. It pulled over onto the side of the road. I pulled up next to it.
A mom and her 3 children looked at me like I was insane.
"Do you know you have a cat on your car?"
I pointed weakly.
The mom let out an exasperated sigh. I had a feeling this was a repeat offence. Wily kitty.
"Oh goodness. Thank you."
Having delivered my intended message and not really sure what else I could do, I pulled out. But looking in my rear view mirror as I drove away, I could see the kids getting out of the car and trying to figure out the best way to remove the terrified animal. I smiled to myself. Good deed AND super strange situation. Awesome.
That was one of last year's adventures. I hope this year will hold more and I hope you have some good ones too :).
Monday, March 14, 2011
Rex Lee!
So.... Hey!
I ran a 5K on Saturday. It was the Rex Lee Run 5K -- a run BYU hosts to help sponsor cancer research. I got a shirt and helped fight cancer! yay!
Now... I'm not a runner. This will come as no surprise to you. However, I don't want to think of myself as lazy and unsporty (nonsporty? insportatious?) because then I feel all sedentary and I worry that someone is going to use me as an example in one of those cynical documentaries about obesity in America. Hence I joined my track team. Hence I ran a 5K. Hence I try(ish) to limit my pizza consumption.
The race was Saturday so last Thursday I went to Gold's and did a test 5K. I jogged a lot and walked a lot and when all was said and done, my time was slow. But I had good feelings about Saturday. The 5K was do-able and with people around and a cool shirt on, I would probably be a bit faster.
I was gonna ROCK this 5K.
On Saturday morning, I woke up at 7am. The race began at 9am, but I wanted to get a good parking spot and ALSO be a bit early. Oh! Also I was tricky and put on all my running clothes the previous night. So all I did was wake up, brush my teeth, wash my face and go to the track.
I was like an hour and a half early.
Plus I had pre-registered so I already had my number and shirt. Needless to say... there wasn't really anyone else who was as enthusiastic about being retardedly early for the 5K. So I found myself wandering around looking like an idiot waiting for someone to entertain me. I pinned my number (in the running world this is called a "bib", which is weird and disconcerting) to my tummy then went and sat in my car, reading my book until it was an appropriate time to join the other runners.
But I had a rockin' parking spot, peeps. This was important because I figured running a 5K would be enough physical exertion and once I was done running I didn't want to have to walk an additional mile to my car.
At like 8:30, I left my car and joined the masses of people walking to the BYU outdoor track. We sat in the bleachers and listened to the sons of Rex Lee talk about their dad. Then we prayed and went to the starting line. There were a lot of people running the 5K. We all stood in a weird crowd, facing different ways, unsure of which way we were supposed to run when the shot was heard. I looked around at all the people I was up against. I was sizing them up, trying to decide if I would finish before or after them.
There were little old ladies, moms with strollers, super athletic people, super hot people, super hot athletic people, 8-year-olds, and people who looked kinda like me. People who were thinking "maybe I'll run a 5K today". But everyone, despite their athletic prowess, was startled and began to run when we heard the BANG!
I started jogging. I jogged and jogged. There were people lined up along the road, cheering us on and waiting for us to slap their hands as we passed. There were people taking photos. It was cool. I enjoyed being a part of the herd of people wearing a cool t-shirt and running for a cure.
Before too long I got tired and I started walking. I got passed by lots of people, but by this point I wasn't too worried about looking cool or athletic. I was doing the Rex Lee Run! And that was all I'd set out to do.
By the time I was pretty close to the end, I was tired and sweaty, but I felt good. I felt good about what I was doing for my body and what I was doing with the community.
However, it was around then that I was passed by a sweet old lady.
I then quickly forgot about my happy community feeling and decided that I needed to beat that old lady.
I pushed through my fatigue and ran. We were just a quarter of a mile away from the finish and I passed her. Then I ran through the finish, happy to be done running and happy that I was slightly faster than the lovely, genteel woman who came through the finish slightly after me.
Additionally I beat my test 5K time by 3 minutes. So basically I'm an athlete that gets faster by the minute. Look our for me, peeps.
Look. Out.
I then got in my very closely parked car and came home.
Now... I know 5K is nothing. People run this far and much farther everyday as part of a daily workout routine. Some people eat 5Ks for breakfast. But running much farther than a 5K makes me want to cry and barf. And cry-barfing doesn't sound very fun. So, marathon runners out there, I salute you!
Additionally, sweet old ladies, moms with strollers and 8-year-olds that run these things, I salute you. You are so impressive to wannabe athletes like me.
Run on, peeps. Run on.
I ran a 5K on Saturday. It was the Rex Lee Run 5K -- a run BYU hosts to help sponsor cancer research. I got a shirt and helped fight cancer! yay!
Now... I'm not a runner. This will come as no surprise to you. However, I don't want to think of myself as lazy and unsporty (nonsporty? insportatious?) because then I feel all sedentary and I worry that someone is going to use me as an example in one of those cynical documentaries about obesity in America. Hence I joined my track team. Hence I ran a 5K. Hence I try(ish) to limit my pizza consumption.
The race was Saturday so last Thursday I went to Gold's and did a test 5K. I jogged a lot and walked a lot and when all was said and done, my time was slow. But I had good feelings about Saturday. The 5K was do-able and with people around and a cool shirt on, I would probably be a bit faster.
I was gonna ROCK this 5K.
On Saturday morning, I woke up at 7am. The race began at 9am, but I wanted to get a good parking spot and ALSO be a bit early. Oh! Also I was tricky and put on all my running clothes the previous night. So all I did was wake up, brush my teeth, wash my face and go to the track.
I was like an hour and a half early.
Plus I had pre-registered so I already had my number and shirt. Needless to say... there wasn't really anyone else who was as enthusiastic about being retardedly early for the 5K. So I found myself wandering around looking like an idiot waiting for someone to entertain me. I pinned my number (in the running world this is called a "bib", which is weird and disconcerting) to my tummy then went and sat in my car, reading my book until it was an appropriate time to join the other runners.
But I had a rockin' parking spot, peeps. This was important because I figured running a 5K would be enough physical exertion and once I was done running I didn't want to have to walk an additional mile to my car.
At like 8:30, I left my car and joined the masses of people walking to the BYU outdoor track. We sat in the bleachers and listened to the sons of Rex Lee talk about their dad. Then we prayed and went to the starting line. There were a lot of people running the 5K. We all stood in a weird crowd, facing different ways, unsure of which way we were supposed to run when the shot was heard. I looked around at all the people I was up against. I was sizing them up, trying to decide if I would finish before or after them.
There were little old ladies, moms with strollers, super athletic people, super hot people, super hot athletic people, 8-year-olds, and people who looked kinda like me. People who were thinking "maybe I'll run a 5K today". But everyone, despite their athletic prowess, was startled and began to run when we heard the BANG!
I started jogging. I jogged and jogged. There were people lined up along the road, cheering us on and waiting for us to slap their hands as we passed. There were people taking photos. It was cool. I enjoyed being a part of the herd of people wearing a cool t-shirt and running for a cure.
Before too long I got tired and I started walking. I got passed by lots of people, but by this point I wasn't too worried about looking cool or athletic. I was doing the Rex Lee Run! And that was all I'd set out to do.
By the time I was pretty close to the end, I was tired and sweaty, but I felt good. I felt good about what I was doing for my body and what I was doing with the community.
However, it was around then that I was passed by a sweet old lady.
I then quickly forgot about my happy community feeling and decided that I needed to beat that old lady.
I pushed through my fatigue and ran. We were just a quarter of a mile away from the finish and I passed her. Then I ran through the finish, happy to be done running and happy that I was slightly faster than the lovely, genteel woman who came through the finish slightly after me.
Additionally I beat my test 5K time by 3 minutes. So basically I'm an athlete that gets faster by the minute. Look our for me, peeps.
Look. Out.
I then got in my very closely parked car and came home.
Now... I know 5K is nothing. People run this far and much farther everyday as part of a daily workout routine. Some people eat 5Ks for breakfast. But running much farther than a 5K makes me want to cry and barf. And cry-barfing doesn't sound very fun. So, marathon runners out there, I salute you!
Additionally, sweet old ladies, moms with strollers and 8-year-olds that run these things, I salute you. You are so impressive to wannabe athletes like me.
Run on, peeps. Run on.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
10,000 Views
I am nigh unto having 10,000 views on my blog. Crazytown, right??
For your entertainment: Words people have entered into google in order to locate my blog:
- pot of gold at the end of the skanky rainbow
- burned my tongue
- literally in love with this grapefruit
- actiso bromch
- luminary things
- disney belle and the best
It's just interesting to me what sticks in people's brains sometimes. There are other search words that people have used to locate likethecontinent, but they are boring.... like "likethecontinent".
I know all of this info because blogger tells me all kinds of cool statistics. It tells me that 4 people in Slovenia and one person in Egypt have read my blog. It tells me that people like sophomore year of my First Kiss Story better than any of my other posts. This is weird because that's the part of the story where nothing happens.
Also... "belle and the best"? There are just a lot of things wrong with that.
Basically you guys are weird. Weird but wonderful. Kinda like a bite of baked potato pizza.
Thanks for reading. Thanks for being you and finding it entertaining when I'm me :).
For your entertainment: Words people have entered into google in order to locate my blog:
- pot of gold at the end of the skanky rainbow
- burned my tongue
- literally in love with this grapefruit
- actiso bromch
- luminary things
- disney belle and the best
It's just interesting to me what sticks in people's brains sometimes. There are other search words that people have used to locate likethecontinent, but they are boring.... like "likethecontinent".
I know all of this info because blogger tells me all kinds of cool statistics. It tells me that 4 people in Slovenia and one person in Egypt have read my blog. It tells me that people like sophomore year of my First Kiss Story better than any of my other posts. This is weird because that's the part of the story where nothing happens.
Also... "belle and the best"? There are just a lot of things wrong with that.
Basically you guys are weird. Weird but wonderful. Kinda like a bite of baked potato pizza.
Thanks for reading. Thanks for being you and finding it entertaining when I'm me :).
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