Coming Soon To Your Friendly Nearby Internet

I've been writing and recording music lately, trying to get enough songs together to get an album up on iTunes. Quantity has finally reached its goal, and I've been sneakily testing quality on various so-called friends and family. The reviews/reactions so far have been pretty mixed. My friends in China generally give me at least one thumb up, partly because their culture doesn't allow them to voice criticism, and partly because of the One-Person-One-Thumb policy in China.

My family is generally supportive, though they express this support in very different ways. The "generally supportive" average is reached primarily thanks to my sister, who lavishes praise with a heavy hand regardless and especially irregardless of quality. (Somewhere Perry is getting very very angry about my word usage. Lucy, do what you can for him). "Mark! You wrote that!?" she shrieks. "It's soo good! You're amazing!" My guess is that up till now she thought I was clinically retarded, because I can literally play one chord and elicit that response.

My mother, the most musically inclined of my subscribers, is eager to listen to my creations but only has time to do so on the 32nd of every month. Never fear, my supreme patience is holding stong.

Gene, who now runs out of the house if you call him "Dad," gives a two-for-one deal: reserved praise and vague criticism. "Hey! That's...pretty good...but something's missing...I don't know what," is his well-rehearsed response. He is as consistent and oblivious to quality as my sister, though in a different slice on the spectrum.

Grandma and Boris never say a single word about the quality of the music. They react, but I haven't decided how to interpret their reaction yet. Usually it goes something like this:

(a three course meal is shoved down Mark's throat to lull him into a false sense of security and a very real sense of nausea)
Grandma: sing us one of your songs! You never sing to us!
Mark: ugh...I only sing to my microphone. But you can hear my computer imitate me. Want to?
Grandma: you didn't eat anything today! Do you want some strawberries? Plums? Chocolate? Herring? Pickles? I know! Let's drink a shot together!
(If you're wondering about the exclamation points, Grandma lives at around 130 decibels)
Mark: no thanks, I only drink with Michelle.
Grandma: well at least have some bread. Nuts. Potatoes. Want me to make you a steak? Pancakes? Why aren't you playing your song to me!?
Mark: uhh...good point. (Turns song on)
Grandma (listens for 5 seconds): BORIS! GET OVER HERE, MARK'S PLAYING US HIS SONGS!
Boris (from the kitchen): meh? You say something?
(They arm themselves with megaphones and yell into each other's earpieces for the next three songs. Boris finally comes over. Mark writhes in pain on the carpet; he is congenitally incapable of habituating to sonic warfare)
Grandma: is that your song playing?
Mark: ye...e...e...s.
Grandma: Boris, listen! Don't fall asleep, you old goat!
Boris: I'm not sleeping, I'm listening!
(5 seconds pass)
(Mark quietly gets up, negotiates the two blissfully snoring geezers, packs his things and drives himself to the hospital)
(scroll down three days and repeat)

Neither Grandma nor Boris has stayed awake for the duration of a single song, which is 3.5 mins on average. Good? Bad? I don't know but I'm going to be optimistic. At their age, if they don't die of something, it's probably really really really ridiculously good.

Mario is the only one who gives constructive feedback. Unfortunately, by some crazy coincidence, he's the one person whose advice I never listen to. Can't do anything about it, the decision was made a long time ago.

Chun is busy 758 hours a week so she has no time to give feedback. My turn to be the object of her attention was coming up, but then a little thing called Daylight Savings Time stole my spot. Now she's back in her exercise wheel, dancing her way into medical school. Don't stand in her way, she has a mean left pirouette.

And finally, there was one person outside the usual circle who got a taste of this album (that's coming soon to your friendly nearby Internet). That was my aunt. Around Christmas, she demanded I send her a song. Being an obedient little nephew, I obliged...and that was the last I heard from her. I should really go check if she's OK. Hmm...nah, I'll just wait till next Christmas. If she doesn't show up, then I'll know something's wrong. Never too late to call 911.

Giving Guests What They Deserve

Boris and Natasha came over today to help us put a dent in our groceries, and to give Dad a chance to expound on his favorite topic- "what you're (all of you) doing wrong in your life." This encompasses most things, so there was no shortage of conversation material.

Boris is a fairly quiet guy with a bald head of low to medium shine. He and Dad used to work together. Natasha is Boris's woman, and owns the rights to all of the voiced opinions in their relationship. The conversations at the table were naturally between Dad and Natasha, and occasionally between Natasha and Dad. The others sat back, listened, and restricted themselves to occasional nervous quasi-giggles so as not to deflect the stream of preaching onto themselves. I wasn't present at the sermon, having retreated to my sanctuary upstairs, but judging by the suffocating silence that ensued upon B & N's departure, many wonderful things were said.

Michelle came back today and proceeded to unleash a torrent of camp songs onto my poor ears. Having feasted on 24-bit silence for 5 days, sticking a fork up there probably would have felt better.

Saw a Korean romantic comedy yesterday called My Little Bride, pronounced Eorin shinbu. It was more than less tolerable, and a couple of scenes were quite funny. The main source of entertainment was the extensive repertoire of facial expressions exhibited by the main actress. It also explains why the movie is rated moderately high - white people have a hard time telling Koreans apart unless there's some artificial disambiguation factor - in this case facial antics of a caliber usually reserved for emoticon upgrade packages.

The story is not too elaborate. A 16-yr old high-school girl is forced to marry an older (~25) friend because otherwise her beloved trickster grandpa refuses to have a pulse. The newlyweds then spend the next 2 hours falling in love with each other, while pretending to drive each other up the wall in the neoclassic Korean way.