The night before I was due back in Ithaca, my mom decided on a whim that we go on a dinner date and see Slumdog Millionaire, much to my delight. However, the moment my mom suggested the 7 pm showing, I signaled a red flag. My mom passes out at around 8:30pm so routinely that my dad has programmed the bedside lamps and the TV to automatically turn off at 10 pm. When it comes to shows, the TV usually watches her or she sleeps off $100 worth of a $150 Cirque du Soleil ticket. There is a point to this preface, but let’s move on.
After coming home from work, my mom and I grabbed a quick dinner at our favorite Mexican eatery–Baja Fresh. Fully fed and carbonated, we headed into a theater with only a sprinkling of people. For two hours, I sat tensely, eyes darting with the quick cinematography, adrenaline pumping with all the chase scenes, heart melting for the kids and slums of Mumbai. The storyline weaves the lessons of how one’s childhood experience affects the future so subtly, how love and resilience can triumph in even the most dire of situations, and how fate can bring fame and fortune to the most unassuming being. The film brings attention to the alarming and chaotic situation in India, how much more the world needs to step up and offer a helping hand.
I was in tears at the end of the movie: that hasn’t happened in awhile. I looked over to my mom, and she was awake: that hasn’t happened in years. On top of it all, Slumdog has been sweeping the awards shows, most recently at the SAG Awards this past Sunday. I definitely recommend catching a showing, and hope that you make that your final answer.
Anyone else glad we didn’t have hair like this?
Last semester, I decided to shell out $5 to pose in a cap and gown, partially because it was the only time I would have an official picture taken in college, and four years without a school picture left me wondering how much I had changed, even though I still think I look 15. One thing’s for sure, the success rate of a “good” yearbook photo is still grim. Does anyone ever have a “perfect” yearbook picture?
I winced when I saw the proofs–some things never change. The collared shirt I chose to wear made me look like a untoned blob and the lighting only reminded me how quickly suntans disappear upon arriving in Ithaca. Looking on the bright side, no school picture could be worse than my sixth grade picture. Little Jen complete with large black metal frame glasses and a crocheted sweater in all the wrong colors. Too bad no one could see the jeans I wore: bell bottoms with heart-shaped leopard-print velour patches. Limited Too wasn’t messing around, and I am guilty to buying into their every trend. At least I didn’t have braces.
I wish I were in DC right now for the inauguration, but I’m at work in Day Hall with the next best thing: the MSNBC live stream. I am excited to see that things are finally looking up and am optimistic for the next few months. I’m also a little obsessed with Michelle Obama, the epitome of a power woman, but I digress.
I’ve been getting a lot of flak for being a Democrat and entering the finance world. Some think that Obama will take money from the rich and giving to the poor. To be honest, I voted for Obama because I think that he will bring something new to the American political landscape. I voted for America, and while that may mean that I’ll be living a little more frugally, so be it. Either way, I’m an alumna in debt and Wall Street compensation is not really going anywhere within the next year or so, not unless the economy starts turning around and the bailout plan actually starts working itself out. In the mean time, I think America is aching for change, and I’m going to embrace this historic event–and wait to see what Michelle is wearing tonight.