District 9

I went to the movies today, catching the 5pm showing with some friends after-work. Walking to the AMC theater next to the Boston Commons, I was trying to recall what I had heard about the movie--it was a movie about humans vs. aliens. Truthfully speaking, the genre of Sci-Fi movies does not generally spark an interest in me. However, a fellow co-worker explained it as a movie with commentary...hmmm, I thought to myself, that is a film technique that I have not seen yet...why not give it a try. So come Friday afternoon...I sneaked out of work early, walked to the movie theater through the muggy-ness of Boston weather, and sat down to enjoy the show...



Neill Blomkamp, the director of District 9, examines what it means to be human, and throughout the movie, asks his audience the same question. Yes, the movie is indeed about humans vs. alien...however, break down the definition of "alien" and Webster's dictionary gives us: belonging or relating to another person, place, or thing; strange. For the sake of the movie, these aliens are indeed extra-terrestrial species living on earth. However, the movie goes beyond that fact, showing that through the differences and strangeness, similarities do exist. Through countless scenes in the movie, Neill Blomkamp, shows his audience innate feelings, emotions and actions--both good and bad--that are common for everyone, human or alien. I do not want to give too much away, therefore, I leave it at that. The movie, in my opinion, represents a hyperbole of our current society. Coming from a background of international development, I cannot help but compare the common themes involved: an us vs them approach, taking differences to mean undeveloped, poor, uncivilized, salvages, and perhaps most importantly, a wall built between the aliens and humans....so close, yet worlds apart. Even though we live in a seemingly connected world with the ever-reaching world wide web, mobile phones, and transcontinental flights, differences in skin color, passports, and economics, among many others, still keep up worlds apart. This movie reminds me of the quote by Paublo Richard:

"We are aware that another gigantic wall is being constructed in the Third World,
to hide the reality of the poor majorities.
A wall between the rich and poor is being built,
so that poverty does not annoy the powerful
and the poor are obliged to die
in the silence of history."

Yet, there is hope! The recognition that we are more similar than we are different. One scene captures Neill Blomkamp's message the best. It is a scene when an alien child turns to a human and says, "we are similar." Sometimes it takes a child to point out a simple, yet often forgotten fact by 'mature adults.'

going up, and going down...

The past three days have been amazing! I am writing this entry, again from 32,000 feet, this time heading back to Boston--inspired, in awe, refreshed, and humbled.

During the summer of 2008, my buddy Drew came out to visit me in Boston. Unlike the a "trip in the city" that I planned for Drew last year, we both decided to head to Mount Rainier National Park in Washington for our 2nd annual reunion--turn off both of our Blackberries, enjoy each others company, and be out in nature...

The drive from Portland to Mt. Rainier National Park was breath taking...the mountains, tall pine trees, and lakes. We drove in Drew's blue Jeep to the tunes of Radiohead, catching up on each others lives. As the Jeep climbed 5,000 feet to Lake Mowich Rustic Camp Ground, we ascended into the clouds. After setting up camp, our first warm-up hike was for 4 miles to Eunice Lake, a lake formed by glacier ice--blue and clear, reflecting perfectly the mountains and pine trees surrounding it.

The following day, we got up at the crack of dawn to prepare for our ~16.5 mile hike. The sun was already shining, struggling to break through the dense layer of clouds that still engulfed Mowich Lake and our camp ground. We started at 5,000 feet, decended down to 2,500 feet, climbed up to 6,200 feet and then made our way back to 5,000 feet. The journey was breath-taking.

Throughout the entire hike, I could not help but think to myself what a humbling experience being in nature is and how this hike mirrored life. As Drew and I decended and ascended up and down the many 1000s of feet, through the clouds, and the and path traveled by so many travelers before us, I felt a mixed of emotions. There were times when I felt like I was in a scene of the Sound of Music wanting to dance, twirl and frolick among the wildflowers and clear mounatin streams. Then there were times I felt so small, so insignificant, so powerless, compared to the beauty and might of the nature around me. Additionally, I was constantly reminded of the saying, "the deeper the valley, the higher the peak." Drew and I went through several valleys during that hike...and in the valley, I would realize, "man, we are going to have to climb up again," and the climb up was a hard struggle, especially towards the end, but the view at the top was amazing. It mirrors life in a way--we don't appreciate the downhill until we have experience the struggle of the climb up. Moreso, sometimes among all of the foliage of the trees and shrubs at the bottom of the valley, we don't realize that there even is a peak...we are too busy just moving along, clearing the path, trying to find a way out. Then starts the climb up...it starts gradual at first, so we do not know that we are climbing...and it gets more rough, harder, but the thickness of the trees, shurbs and clouds still prevent our seeing of the peak. It isn't until we have reached the top, where the goal is in sight, that the 'distractions' clear, making way for the majestic peak...and still, the climb only gets harder--this time, through the snow, the rocks...sometimes on our hands and knees--we get to the peak. Once at the peak, we have the opprotunity to look back down the path we took--sure, from the top view point, we could of taken a different path, or done things a bit differently...but that doesn't matter. We are at the top, and we can reflect and realize that even though the view from the top is an amazing one, it was the journey up to the top that was better. {On this particular hike with Drew, I actually didn't realize that we reach the peak until our climb back down again...lol.}

For me this weekend, the journey up to the top was humbling. To see the majesty of Mount Rainer in the foreground, the beauty of the wild flowers, the greatness of the tall pine trees and the gracefullness of glacier formed lakes...and realize that I am but one, small entity in this world. Equally as important, the journey up to the top with Drew reminded me of the fact that as I was surrounded by the beauty and power of nature, I had a friend, a compainion, to live the experience with. And like the ups and downs of the trail, our friendship too has experience its fair share of trials...but during moments like this weekend which I would consider a "peak," I reflect back on our journey to this peak from freshman year of college when Drew and I first met and realize that for me, the connections formed with people are my "mountain peaks" in life, and it is these "connections" that have helped through the literal and figurative ups and downs of the trail.

32,000 feet

Location: AA flight from Boston to Dallas (32,000 feet)

Yes, that is right! I am 32,000 ft in the air and blogging! Who knew that wireless internet would be equipped on planes? Gone are the days when flying meant escaping email, work, and 'the world.' I think the nice thing is that it still comes as a shocker to some people, especially those 'on the ground,' that you are skyping, gchatting, or IMing with them in real time as you are flying. It is an amazing feat of technology: the ability to write this blog, share this experience, and see clouds beneath me, listen to the constant humming of the plane engine, and sit next to a completely random elderly man who is obsessed with the bricks game on his blackberry {seriously! how long can you really play that game? I am surprised his fingers can nagivate the little ball for that long}.

Until my next blog, over and out!

Home...one year later.

Its been awhile since I last blogged--over a year ago, if I remember correctly. I don't know when it happened, but one day I woke up and I just felt at home in Boston. Life started to have a routine, I had a community of friends that I could call up, I started to have favorite coffee-shops, restaurants, bookstores, and routes that I would call my own in this city. Reflecting back, I can't re-call when exactly that moment happened, it just did. Life happened. As the seasons changed...as the leaves turned colors, snow started to fall, and winter melted into spring, life happened, and took me along with it.

I reflect back and I am in awe of everything that has happened: trips to Uganda, finishing the dreaded MCAT exam, Medical School applications, moving into a new apartment, meeting new people, crazy dance parties, lazy Sundays in the South End, swimming in Walden Pond, rafting the Nile, the list can go on and on; but it all seems so small, minuscule, insignificant. Are these simply activities to do to fill time, to feel productive, to check off an imaginary list? There are times that I feel like I am simply living to go from one high to the next...seeking the next emotional thrill...constantly planning activities to fill time--to have something to do. And then there are other times when life feels so right, so perfect, so beautiful that I just want to freeze that moment in time, preserve it, to reflect on it another day {rarely does that reflection happen}. Why the dichotomy? I don't know. Perhaps it is the activities that builds memories, and with those memories comes sentimental feelings, and with the feelings comes connections with people, and with people comes a feeling of being at home.

So one year later, I finally call Boston my home--a place which conjures up sentimental feelings, feelings not due to the place, but to the people which makes this place home. Some can say that I found a home in Boston, but I like to think of it as I found people, which led me to feel at home.