The other night, my pal Aj and I decided to watch a freshly downloaded, hot-off the torrent oven movie. Perhaps a mutual agreement, a time off from playing the usual DoTA game which he is finally beating me in. Being the ‘gamer’ that he is, which what he practically says all the time, I always get my sorry-ass kicked every time we play PC or console games. Except in DoTA, where I held my final stand. Until recently, we decided to go 5 on 5 employing insane a.i. bots instead of 1 on 1 where I always kicked his ass. Opposed to what I always say during job interviews, I found out that I am not an effective team player.
As the movie started I was surprised that Korean superstar Rain was the main character. It was definitely a Hollywood movie from Warner Bros and Rain was lead role. Somehow the name Rain and the title Ninja Assassin doesn’t seem to match up. I was expecting hardcore Asian action stars like Jet Li, Tony Jaa or Tak Sakaguchi to play the role of the vengeful ninja who was raised in a ninja clan.
The movie barely even started and I’m already butchering it. Rain will probably dance the bad guys to death while rapping his rendition of Usher’s songs in Korean. As a singer and dancer he is a gifted artist, hands down. Movies like this gravity should be handed to the pros. IMHO.
This is not movie review.
This is about a scene in the movie that reminded me of something I did way back, sort of. He was asked to live for one year without one of his senses, and just as you imagined it was his sense of sight. Blindfolded and armed with his favorite weapon, the Kusarigama, he slices his brethren in a Kill Bill-like fashion, blood spurting like mini geysers. Oh yeah, baby, yeah!
I mean I didn’t lived for one year without my sense of sight, when I was in grade school I lived roughly an hour without my sense of smell. I woke up one Saturday morning with the previous science experiment still fresh in my head; I chopped onions, apples and potatoes in same sizes, doing my best to have a semblance of a wafer stick. I placed them in my mother’s Tupperware – which is practically the name of every plastic container even though it wasn’t made by Tupperware. Credits to my mother for simplifying the complicating err simplifying the complicated aspects of living in this world. I love you Mom! Peace!
After placing them inside the Tupperware, I left them for awhile to take a bath to wash away all the tears caused by my crush err the onions. As soon as I got out of the bathroom I blindfolded my eyes with my mom’s Armando Caruso, and in case you are wondering, handkerchiefs in our household were not collectively known as Armando Caruso, end of discussion.
I placed a black metallic object to cover my nose, the one that is commonly used to hold pieces of paper together, which I found holding pieces of documents belonging to my father. Boy I was lucky that my father’s line of work enables him to bring tons of documents and papers which he actually never reads. Peace Dad! I love you.
Carefully inching my way to the target zone, blindfolded and without my sense of smell, I opened the Tupperware and began chomping the wafers by half, placing the other half aside. I realized that it was another stupid experiment that I made to contest the validity of an age old truth, that certain things taste the same without prior intent of catching their scent.