Has It Really Been Seven Years?

Though musings, anecdotes, photos and the like have been shared on the Book of Face as some may call it, I've sadly neglected to return to blogging as MaNmoiselle88 since 2011.

As a twelve year old, I began journaling when I was home with the flu. Nothing seems to have changed blogging as a forty seven year old blogging while home because of a chronic gout condition. Gout is a very painful form of arthritis I've lived with since my diagnosis in 1996 thanks to my dear friend Raquel who at that time worked in the medical field. "It's gout I tell you!" she used to insist (without the English pirate accent & growl one may typically associate with this line). At the height of pain during a flareup that year, I begged the nurse for a needle into the affected joint so they can draw and assess the fluid to confirm my then suspicions of gout. From that day on, it's been my personal proactive crusade to learn, befriend, manage, and hopefully beat this. Since then, as of 2015, I could add a diagnosis of Psoriatic Arthritis, much like the golfer Phil Mickelson since joint pains that typically were in the ankle have grown to involve my knees, fingers & elbows in various flareups.

Please don't get me wrong. Outside of this condition I am an otherwise active, happy, and extremely busy individual like everyone you see in those TV commercials for Humira, Anakinra, Orencia, and the like. However, I've opted to exhaust more traditional and holistic treatments under the care of my current and attentive rheumatologist, keeping these Biologic medications as a last resort. And I mean very last. While the commercials portray people happily throwing a ball, baking a cake, or dancing with wild abandon, there's a very soothing voice over to gently and lovingly remind you that this can cause diarrhea,  or even cancer, amongst other detrimental effects, including a slightly irreversible damage called death. (Oh that). I realize Biologics have their proven positive effects, but also hearken back to two coworkers who gave unsolicited reviews of one drug that were diametrically opposed. One sang its praises calling it life changing, whereas the other called it life ending as evidenced by the loss of a loved one. So while I can receive positive effects from Biologic injections let's say for a few years, I'd hate to meet an irreversibly negative side effect at year-X. It boils down to my level of comfort with the risks that these drugs present. A personal decision of every patient as far as I'm concerned.

It's between this scenario and these disclaimers that I've decided on my current path to wellness. To exploring holistic approaches of Eastern medicine, acupuncture, monitoring stress factors such as grief at the loss of my loving parent, and reevaluating my diet.

What I Am Thankful for This Thanksgiving

With two weeks to go before Thanksgiving, I am in no loss for things to be thankful for. For starters I am thankful for friendly neighbors, self-powering crank up radio/flashlights, electricity, a warm bed, and hot showers. The list is endless, though I can say that a majority are what has helped me through the wake of superstorm Sandy.

Having spent my childhood in the tropics, namely the Philippines, one can say that I'm a veteran to monsoon rains and power outages. So as Sandy's gusty winds howled the power out on Monday Oct 29th, the instant hallway party at my condo was a welcomed community experience, complete with board games and a host of adult beverages. It was reminiscent of a dorm party to which I  quipped "Where's the RA?", inciting peals of laughter yearned for by every comedian. Without the internet, landlines, or reliable cell signal for that matter,  and being isolated in the dark, I caught a glimpse of what life may have been like in the gaslight era gone by of 1800s within the same brick walls of our complex formerly known as Dixon Mills Crucible, the pencil factory.

I will speak for myself when I confess that the underlying current of worry grew by the minute when power did not return well beyond the wee hours of the night. Gas stove top burners were a consolation that provided hot food and beverages as rapidly decreasing outside temps became more apparent indoors. The rate of food consumption (regardless of its nutritional value) increased not only to relieve stress but to fuel body heat as indoor temperatures matched frigid external temps beyond twenty four hours of the blackout.  The self-powering crank-up radio/ flashlight provided much needed communication from the outside world which didn't leave one as isolated and alone as many of us would probably care to admit.

The stories of devastation in my Jersey City neighborhood alone were sadly all but confirmed as I surveyed the patches that I could reach safely and within walking distance. The scope of damage was even more detailed as fellow drinking acquaintances of local Pint Bar shared accounts of personal tragedies as they took a break from the mentally and physically exhausting day of gathering unsalvageable furniture and home items onto the sidewalk. Sandy's storm surge did not just bring the Hudson River on land and wash away people's homes, vehicles,  and livelihood; it was a flood of a reality check that brought with it a new reality of rising sea levels and the need for effective emergency/disaster planning.

My heart goes out to those whose lives are forever changed by Sandy's human casualties, and obviously for those whose homes are no longer. I hope to be able to offer my strengths in any way I can for so many more who are still without electricity and heat. Four days without power and hot water may have dragged me under the weather to the depths of a cold that I've not been able to kick since then. However, I am more thankful for a renewed sense of community with my neighbors, a reliable network of friends/ loved ones/ emergency contacts on whom I was able to rely despite spotty blips of monosyllabic texts that felt like scribbled messages in a bottle sent out to an electronic sea.

With seventy-five percent of life back in order (and until the PATH trains are restored to full service between New York and New Jersey well after the severely compromising post-storm 10pm shutdown)  I've focused on local weekend activities. Today's sun drenched brunch with an old friend and Bay Area theatre contemporary, Beth, was particularly heartwarming as we brunched at the hipster Marco & Pepe Restaurant, followed by cups of Baileys infused coffee on her couch,  graced with her apartment's 22nd floor view of the Manhattan skyline. We bantered about our journeys from the Bay Area to New York, laughing endlessly while connecting the dots with stories and people from our pre-Facebook youth. I am thankful for rekindled friendships, shared survival, and the warmth of community that will shelter you through any storm.

A New Form of Identity Theft

Dear La Jolla Playhouse Artistic Director Chris Ashley, Director

Moises Kaufman, Casting Associate Tara Rubin & composers Steve

Sater/Duncan Sheik:

After watching the discussion panel on the “Nightingale”’s casting

controversy, I’ve learned that “suspension of disbelief” is not an

excuse for casting five non-Asians for the five Chinese named lead

characters in this Hans Christian Andersen fable set in “mythical”

China. I understand that a workshop is a work in progress, however it

was still a public performance for which you charged admission.

While it was “nice” (and I mean that in quotes) that La Jolla

Playhouse hosted a discussion panel due to overwhelmingly negative

feedback, this seemed nothing but lip service as the creative team

justified its casting ratio based on a “mythical” China and not the

real one.  When asked “If this were a mythical Africa would you have

dared to do the same?” and Director Kaufman’s esoteric diatribe was

thankfully interrupted by the opposing panel’s request for a more

direct answer, it further proved creative team’s

anorexic justification.

While a public apology was “nice” (and I mean that in quotes), action

is preferred. And by action I mean that a play set in “mythical China”

with a cast of 12 (previously workshopped with an Asian majority)

should have more than merely two female actresses in supporting roles

and at least one recognizably Asian male actor.

How fitting that a seemingly oblivious audience member asked “Are

there talented Asian singer/actors?” amidst a chorus of angry voices

in this supposedly-not-so-backward San Diego theatre community.

To paraphrase a Capitol One advertising slogan, I dare to ask a

similar question of the sponsors / backers of La Jolla Playhouse and

subsequently this production ~ “Who’s in your wallet?”

With all due respect to the very talented performers of the

“Nightingale”, the creative team has given a new meaning to Identity

theft.

LABOR DAY

At the tender age of ten, while escaping the Filipino summer in San Francisco, I recall walking by a modest French cafe on Mason St. that was hiring for a busboy/dishwasher and inquired about it. Did I realize how independent I was back then? Not as much as I wanted the satisfaction of saying I had a job and that I was earning a wage for something I could do even at an early age. This budding work ethic somehow was also a way be a cut above the rest of my fourth grade class.

As an eighth grader at San Francisco's Star of the Sea Grammar School, I was a server for our yearly Festival dinner and recall someone's compliment "You look very professional doing this." I was well aware that it wasn't my teal Members' Only jacket, but the meticulous manner, graciousness and friendliness that was served with her meal that prompted this unsolicited feedback.

As a young actor in high school, my drama teacher was equally complimentary at how professional I looked while playing a lawyer in the school play, "You, the Jury". Was it my personally provided costume ensemble of blue pin striped suit, slicked back hair and Bally loafers? They were certainly instrumental towards a more mature and commanding gait.

While touring Europe and the States as a professional actor, I recall the satisfaction of a well earned standing ovation surpassing any monetary value. Applause was feedback and confirmation that I had done my job beyond a satisfactory level.

These are fragments from my history that have shaped my work ethic and how I feel I contribute to the work force. Be it on/off stage or in an office... the level of service / performance I like to provide is nothing less than I would like to receive for myself. So on this Labor Day, cheers to your hard earned Dollar (or insert proper currency here) and more importantly, your sense of accomplishment!!!

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!

In honor of my dad Alejandro Lim ~  on Father's Day ~ I am wearing one of his numerous shirts I ambushed from his closet, because I recall how happy he was that I found his 1970s disco fab shirt & pimpin' fierce boots to match my fashion sensibilities. More importantly, despite our 40+ year age gap, slight language barrier (he being very Chinese and myself growing up bi-culturally Filipino/Chinese), and being on the opposite ends of the Kinsey scale, his burgundy & brown geometrically lined polyester shirt and camel leather custom made boots bridged a gap and made us feel closer to each other. 

The Chinese-Filipino / Filipino-Chinese generations leading up to mine may not have equated fathers as the warm-and-fuzzy icon of a Hallmark card. But I recall moments of tenderness, and more importantly communication without pressures of expectation or judgment. I recall his hearty laughter when I used to mimic mom's chain smoking dragon lady mah-jong gal pal as she'd hurl Chinese expletives at out our barking dog in between puffs of Philip Morris. I recall his concern and wish that I have a child at some point in my life. 

However far I've landed from his hopes and dreams of his son, I hope to pave a road of success that he can share. I may have seen glimpses of his smile  which I take as a sign of approbation ~ something not easily attainable by any means. And somehow wearing his wardrobe of yesteryears - which retains a fashion forward edge - seems highly appropriate and fitting. Happy Father's Day!

The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel – A Review

It has been said that one must never forget where one comes from, yet one must also know where one is going.  “The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel” is a heart warming coming-of-golden-age ensemble comedy featuring seven British retirees in search of greener pastures, surprisingly rediscovering themselves in a Third World country. Set in Jaipur, India, this film is as robust in color as it is studded with a stellar ensemble.

Told thru the perspective of recently widowed Evelyn Greenslade,attentively crafted by Dame Judi Dench (“Shakespeare In Love”),  we are introduced to her and her travel companions via a montage of their personal histories. We have the romantically and financially bereft Douglas  and Jean Ainslie served up to realistically unsettling Harold Pinter heights by Bill Nighy (“Love Actually”) and Penelope Wilton (“Downtown Abbey”).  The sensual singleton, Madge Hardcastle, is refreshingly portrayed by Celia Imrie (“Calendar Girls”) while her equally frisky counterpart,Norman Cousins, is portrayed by Ronald Pickup (“Fortunes of War”). The Parliament judge, Graham Dashwood, fleshed out brilliantly by Tom Wilkinson (“”The Exorcism of Emily Rose”), longsto adjourn unresolved matters of his younger heart.  Last, but certainly not the least, is a medical tourist in dire need of a hip(and attitude) replacement, Muriel Donnelly, wheeled in by Dame Maggie Smith replete with ignorant fear of everything foreign (including Indians). Once assembled in a row of airport seats due to a cancelled connecting flight, you are treated to this chorus line of British veteran thespians as their characters embark on a longnight’s journey towards their much longed for oasis.

They are welcomed by the highly energetic and youthful Sonny Kapoor,  intelligently presented by “Slumdog Millionaire” star Dev Patel. His natural and charming delivery of saccharin and nearlydiabetic positivity ~ apparently a directorial choice by John Madden (“Shakespeare In Love”) ~ poignantly balances the obviously dilapidated hotel which was over represented by a photoshopped advertisement.  While the guests are forced to confront their mirror of personal foibles in practically uninhabitable accommodations, Sonny’s rhythmically volleyed anecdotes water the roots of their newly developed friendships. One in particular which has resonated as far as my facebook status states ~ “Everything will be alright in the end. And if it’s not alright, then it’s not yet the end.”

The somewhat formulaic and predictable outcome is but a slight crack through which nothing falls, thanks to a formidable cast. This is an heirloom worth seeing and sharing with viewers of all ages. And how refreshingly “exotic”  to feature an under represented demographic ripe with a harvest of wisdom and experience. Just as marigold flowers are favored as companion plants, this motley crew’s Third World travels upgrades them to first class connections with lasting friendships and love.

I Love My Red Sweater

Perfect for Fall, Winter, or even April showers, this Bossini cable knit zip up cardigan withstands the unpredictable weather of fashion. Leave the ribbed collar in its naturally upturned position, with zipper a tad below the sternum, and you'll reap the benefits of this 80s fashion invention sans a retroactive look.
Feel the hug of this snug cardigan, and the value of venetian red.

Have you checked the most predominant color palate in your closet as of late? I've learned mine to be a safe collection ranging from business black and blues to earth tones for work or play. They've been my "go to", and for years have enhanced my dance-scaped shoulder and chest, while usually tapering my ever fluctuating waistline to mask (or celebrate) my vertically challenged frame. Quite frankly red has been the avoided color for my tan complexion, until my sister Alice gifted this suprising conversation piece this Christmas past.

I love my sister for many reasons and one of them is her ability to prescribe clothing with the proper texture, shape, weight, and timelessness.  This medium sized sweater from her last Holiday Hong Kong shopping spree may have been blindly selected. Perhaps she held it up to measure against her son's wider frame. However it was done, she thought of her little brother who feels all the warmer now with a red sweater on a chilly Spring day.