Archive | October, 2012

Symphony of the Goddesses

20 Oct

As a kid, one of the first video games that I ever loved aside from Pokemon, was the Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time for Nintendo 64. I was fascinated by the mind-boggling addictive puzzle RPG style of the game and the wonderful magical storyline the game presented.

Even now as an adult, I will openly admit that I have a love for the Zelda games, and it seems each generation has it’s own favorite that spans from old Nintendo games to  the newest which can be played on the Nintendo Wii and 3Ds.

So it seems only natural that upon being asked if I would like to go to the Symphony of the Goddesses this past week on October 18th at the Wang that I say yes.

The night was cold, but the heat of bodies packed within the balcony seats at the Wang theater was enough to allow most girls to be comfortable in even the flimsiest of dresses as they waited for the seats to fill. Below, we had view of the whole stage and three video monitors placed at different angles. The stage was lit softly, and the musicians could be heard softly testing their instruments; part of a song there, a stray note here for warm ups floated through the spacious theater. As I glanced around the theater, I could see a sea of green as various people of all ages had dressed in Link costumes for the occasion and even a pair as Mario and Luigi.

Then, a great cheer rose up as the conductor entered the stage; she was delicate, blonde and young with laughing eyes and  with a gorgeous brogue she introduced herself as Emiear Noone. The producer, Jason Micheal Paul, was then on the stage, announcing the line up and expressing his love for the games as well, which was followed by massive wave of applause. These were his people, and he was in good company.

The show opened with a bang as a medley of Zelda’s main opening powerfully lit up the room. Noone firmly led the Orchestra as behind them scenes from the most memorable Zelda games lit up the three large screens.

The first act consisted of dungeon music and classic ocarina music, followed by a medley from Legend of Zelda: Ocherina of Time. The crowd could be heard laughing on an off at some of the scenes chosen from the games. Then, abruptly between the first and second half, Noone called our attention once more to her. She admitted it was unorthodox to stop between the first and second half, but wanted to draw the crowd’s attention to the fact that the second half would consist of music selected from Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker, which involved controlling the wind with what looked like a conductor’s baton. Noone then raised he hand, displaying her own personal wind waker, and proceeded with conducting the rest of the symphony with it.

After the intermission, Paul once mor graced the stage, thanking Rhode Island’s Philharmonic Choir for using their voices along with the powerfully done orchestra music and introducing the second half of the show which concisted of music from Legend of Zelda: Link to the Past, Legend of Zelda Twilight Princess, and which followed up with music from Majora’s mask.

The show had not one but three standing ovations and was all and all a moving and fantastic experience that was enjoyed by multiple generations and fans of both music and gaming. This was a celebration and an homage to the games, their fans and of course the composer of the beautiful Zelda music, Koji Kondo.

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Nerd York City

20 Oct

Picture this if you will: cramped, but unperturbed you are riding  on a bus beside the one you love (who has long since fallen asleep on your shoulder and is softly snoring) and the sound of the road hissing by the window fills the cabin. Then, to your right, New York City comes into view on the midday skyline. The Empire State Building is a needle, proudly displayed as if in welcome to you and your fellow passengers just before you plunge into a tunnel into darkness.

Last weekend, I found myself in the Big City for New York Comic Con (NYCC).

I was eager to plunge into the nerd culture, and clutching  my Ann Rice novel and my luggage off we went from the bus stop through the city streets. It was well after noon when we finally arrived (after being lost for some time of course) at the hotel we would be staying in: The Paramount. I was proud of myself when I managed to get a room at The Paramount from the NYCC website. Yet, the hotel was nowhere near as close to the convention as it was advertised and the hotel wouldn’t let us check in until after 3 pm for reasons I couldn’t fathom. Still, we were not put off and we charged onward to our destination: Comic Con.
This was my first visit to New York Comic Con, and I was eager to see the many comic, literary, and entertainment stars that the convention had boasted. We were not disappointed. Day one was exhausting, filled with attempts to wade through the shoulder to shoulder crowds throughout the Javits center and tries at navigating and an overwhelming sense of amazing comic swag. Cosplayers were hard to pick from people loaded with bags of goodies bought at the floor upstairs. But my main event was to meet Ann Rice and have her sign my copy of Interview with a Vampire. Unfortunately, after lining up and waiting for over two hours–it was not to be. I was disheartened, but one day hope to get my chance. Both worn out from our day of travel, my boyfriend and I left for the hotel early, got dinner at a nearby Subway and spent the night discussing how to tackle our next day at the Con.
But a restful night, we soon found, would not be possible. The walls at the Paramount were paper thin–and at roughly midnight, an alarm began to sound on our floor. Having flashbacks to our last trip to New York, my boyfriend and I began to gather our things to leave just in case. But after calling the front desk, we found the alarm to be accidental and was assured we were safe. We woke the next morning around 7 to the sound of the Housekeeping staff knocking on doors. Check out isn’t until noon. I was furious and couldn’t manage to fall back to sleep–but after a shower and breakfast at a nearby deli that was absolutely delicious–I was in a better mood.

Shopping here was by far my favorite part of the Con–but also–meeting and getting the autograph of Adam West. (Batman from an older generation for those of you confused.) He signed my newly bought RC car 1966 Batmobile and essentially made that a memorable moment in my life. My boyfriend had a fanboy moment upon meeting the former Green Ranger.

While he was in line for the Power Ranger, I wandered the con solo, making short-term friends, and rotting my brain on video games. The most exciting game I got to demo is for Ghibli’s upcoming masterpiece, Ni No Kuni. What seems to be a gorgeous mix of Final Fantasy and Pokemon game play with Ghibli Movie style cut scenes–I have already reserved my copy for January.

 

That night, we headed for Times Square and had a somewhat romantic walk around Rockafeller Center. Trees strung with lights hung around the ice skating rink made the moment feel ethereal and surprisingly serene.

“Want to skate?” he asked me, am impish glitter in his eyes.

“You don’t know how.” I replied, watching a man below as if on cue slip onto his back.

“I would be willing to fall a few times for you.” He said, pulling me close. I smiled, knowing as corny as it was, that I had fallen for him long ago.

We didn’t skate, but made a promise to someday and together wandered back to the Hotel.

 

 

The Australians at the Omni Parker

9 Oct

The funny thing about plans, as cliche as it sounds, is that they never go the way they’re supposed to. Yet, what I love most about making plans often times is breaking from them and deviating to a path that I may have never otherwise taken.

Last night, I had  originally planned a time out on the town with one of my girlfriends who is visiting from Europe.  I decided that once I left Baltimare at 5, I would meet her at” the place”, Max and Dylan’s for dinner, and once we were full (and probably a bit tipsy) we would stake out together on one of the many ghost tours that skulk around Boston this time of year. It was a good plan. A solid plan. And I had always wanted to go on a ghost tour. So, I booked the non-refundable tickets, eager for the night to arrive.

I didn’t expect Baltimare to be so overloaded and hold me up until 5:30, or the trains to lock one side of the station due to a holiday that I didn’t have off so I would have to take an extra 20 minutes to get to the platform–but most of all I didn’t expect my girlfriend to find herself deliriously ill and cancel on me last minute either. There I was, staring miserably at her mess of missed text messages that I hadn’t seen until hours after she had sent them, feeling my night was ruined. Without her–there would be no dinner, no drinks, and most disappointing of all: no ghost tour. I was beside myself–until I decided to embrace this alternate path.

My fingers flew across the tiny keys of my phone as I dialed up another friend in hopes that he could make plans with me last minute. Somehow–he was free. I felt myself lifted from my disheartened state as if I were tied to a Zeppelin. So the adventure was back in business.

Our tour group met at the mouth of the Central Cometary across from the Colonial theater and my friend met me at Boyleston Street Station. I felt giddy that I had managed to get a hold of someone on such short notice. Our guide was a stocky man of a regular build, and glasses dressed all in black with a battery lit lantern to guide us to him. A message bag was slung over his shoulder like so many other Bostonians, giving him an oddly immature appearance. He spoke in a light Boston accent and to our great relief was interactive, expressive and captivating. As our guide led us around the commons, to the site of the “Great Oak” where people were hung for crimes, to the library that houses a book bound in human skin–he constantly kept us as well as the rest of the group enthralled in his stories. I was fascinated by the stories he came up with–mainly in that I had never heard them before. As best put by my friend during the tour, “Even if it’s all B.S. they’re interesting stories.”

Our tour concluded at the most haunted hotel in Boston, The Omni Parker House Hotel. Built in 1855 and located at 60 school Street, just down the street from Park Street Station, this hotel (though old) still speaks volumes of its rich and luxurious past. I have walked by this hotel more times than I can count over the years but I had never taken the time to go inside. Crown molding like I had never seen up close before lines the vestibule all the way to the concierge desk in the back. Heavy, dark wood paneling covered the walls and floral somewhat antique-looking furniture was placed against the walls and around small tables in a welcoming fashion as you pushed your way from the cold into the lobby. A smell of liquor greeted our noses as we entered, as we walked past the hotel bar and restaurant, “The Last Hurrah”. This hotel seemed to give off a slightly masculine scent of sweet cigars smoked over many years (but not in an unpleasantly overpowering way) mixed with brandy aged to perfection. I found myself more fascinated by the hotel itself than our previously enchanting guide. Here, we were told of the many haunts the hotel boasted, as well as being the inventor of the Boston Cream Pie.

Evan and I eagerly wandered into The Last Hurrah after tipping our guide, and after some finagling, managed to get ourselves a table. Here, the molding seemed more modern, but the feel was still of a gentleman’s lounge. I could imagine men in three-piece-suites, brown in color, smoking cigars in the high-backed armchairs having once sat here among friends, and possibly women, for some reason in my imaginings to be in flapper dresses and pearls. This was a place of masculine beauty and great comfort; and I immediately liked it.

We found ourselves seated beside a couple, possibly in their 50’s, with twanging Australian accents and smiling eyes. They were married, on vacation from home to visit their daughter who was going to medical school at Harvard. The man wore a bright yellow sweater and had striking blue eyes that seemed to be constantly twinkling with mirth beneath the surface. His hands were large and rough, wrapped around his half-empty glass as he jokingly complained about a woman who had “a big fat head” at the bar who was blocking his view of the baseball game.  His wife was a fair-haired, petite woman with laugh lines around her mouth and eyes that made me hope I would look that pleasant and warm as I get older. I liked the woman at once, and wish that I wasn’t so horrible at remembering names that I could recall theirs. She had once been a nurse, I learned, and was now happily retired with her husband. She and I struck up a conversation and somehow it turned to literature and books that we loved, the love of physical books, and our dislike of the modern “Kindles” and “Nooks” available. When I told her of my hopes to one day be known as a great young adult novelist–she wanted my name at once and I gave her my card with an autograph at her request.

“For when you make it big one day–I can say I met you on Holiday.” She told me warmly. They were beautiful people. Warm and vibrant. And over an irish coffee and a piece of the Omni’s wonderful Boston Cream Pie, I felt myself feel suddenly very alive and connected to the world again. Though I stumbled home a tad later than I had planned–I couldn’t help but think how wonderful the unplanned moments in life can sometimes be for the littlest reasons. I smiled, knowing that if my plans hadn’t gone so wrong that the evening wouldn’t have felt so perfect.

The Omni Parker House

Ghost Tour

 

 

 

 

 

Sold by Patricia McCormick, a book review, and Moving to Baltimare

6 Oct

When I visited my local Barnes and Noble last night, I wasn’t sure what sort of book I wanted. The shelves loomed in a labyrinthine maze, lined with books of all sizes and colors as I wandered through them. Here and there, I would touch my fingertips to the spines of books on the shelves, as if this simple gesture would give to me some sense of the story that was behind the cover.

It was there that I stumbled across a bright yellow book with a striking black and white image of a young girl’s face peering from a sari. “Sold” the cover declared in bold plain red text. Drawn to this image, I left the store with my prize in hand.

I started it as soon as I arrived home, and found myself unable to put it down; worried for what might happen if I left the main character alone in the closed pages of the novel.

Patricia McCormick’s, “Sold”, is a striking story about a young girl named Lakshmi who is taken from her mountain home in Nepal under the pretense of being hired as a maid in the City to help feed her struggling family. To Lakshmi and the reader’s horror, she is instead sold into prostitution in India.

The story is written less like a novel, and more like a poetry anthology that interconnects perfectly. Each “Chapter” is  a literary poem that leads the reader along on Lakshmi’s sometimes beautiful, sometimes sad, but always powerful journey. Only 13 when she is sold by her stepfather, the reader is told through Lakshmi’s point of view the horrifying story that is sadly a reality for nearly 12,000 Nepali girls each year. (Figure taken from the afterword) It is by sheer power of her soul that Lakshmi seems to survive and (spoilers!) eventually escape from life as a child-prostitute. We see the young girl’s change from nieve and innocent, to self-loathing, to strong and determined as the novel progresses. Despite the novel’s heavy subject matter, I felt a great sense of relief and hope at its’ close.  This novel is certainly a three out of four cupcakes on the Pinky Pie scale.

Sold by Patricia McCormick

 

On a lighter note: I started my new job this week! That’s right folks, Pinky Pie moved to Baltimare! So far, the work is a horse of a different color from what I had been working on before. It’s tough training, and getting access for a while to all of the new systems I required for my work seemed impossible–but luckily things are working out for the most part.

My new manager seems sweet and somewhat soft spoken. When you speak to her, you can almost see the wheels in her head turning as she seeks out the most appropriate words to use in her next sentence. Despite her soft and careful ways, do not think she is a pushover. Already, I have seen her be firm with people–but always fair. So far, she seems to genuinely want me to succeed in learning all that I can. Meet Baltimare’s Cheerilee.

 

 

The pony who is training me seems very high energy, if not high strung. She is full of knowledge and excited to train me–but isn’t exactly the most patient mare for the job. She also has quite an ego–which for now–I will be sure to beef up as much as possible while we have to work in close quarters. Meet Baltimare’s  “Great and Powerful “Trixie.

To my left the “Great and Powerful” Trixie of Baltimare

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The pony who sits in front of her seems to be the oldest of the group, and also the most cynical. I find her extremely funny and charming. She likes to decorate her desk and provides everyone with candies. So far, I don’t know much else about her–other than that she seems to be harboring some inner sadness that she may be working out. (Still she’s very sweet.) Meet Baltimare’s Mrs. Cup Cake.

Behind Trixie sits a very quiet colt. He’s only there twice a week, and works from home primarily. Compared to myself and Trixie, he says very little–but when he does talk, it’s usually hilarious. He’s very sweet and patient. (Don’t tell Trixie, but I like it when he trains me better.) Meet Baltimare’s Big Macintosh.

So far, everypony is really nice. And I look forward to getting to know them all better. I also look forward to learning more and more about my new position.

Pinky Pie the restless writer–out!