Darling Monster

Give and Take

2010-05-26T13:43:00.000-07:00

Whether networking, dating, being friendly or otherwise, life seems to be about what you can gain from either a person or situation. Know the right people, be in the right place at the right time, and leave your mind open so as to capitalize on the right opportunity. Scratch my back, I'll scratch yours.

All three aforementioned social circumstances, however, involve giving something of yourself in order to keep gaining whatever it is that you want. Whether its more contacts, more sex, or the impression that more people like you, it's this idea of validation that keeps things rolling. If people know who you are, you will likely get whatever it is that you want.

Some people give more than they take, others take more than they give. When you really think about it, both stances are completely self-serving. Interestingly, both stances stand to lose a lot more than they expect. Whether or not it is realized is the question.

Along with family and a general morale, I have always believed in balance. Without balance comes chaos. If one cog in the machine is loose, you have to replace it.

I have had a general luck with other people as far as balance and chaos is concerned. I tend to befriend people who are as balanced as I am. Sure, we've all got our neuroses and worries about how we come across to the other. We're cranky and get irked with each other but in the end we fit pretty damned well. Relationships are a lot more interesting. Strong intellectual connections serve as foreplay to a form of sexual expression that, well, needs expressing, and often. Professionally I am able to do the job, but sometimes am too eager, optimistic. Very much "I'm the Guy" without being a kiss-ass. That said, if given the chance, I manage to impress. In all cases I'd like to think I give my fair share in an attempt to show that I am worth taking a chance on. In short, I am not a user - and so I give.

So imagine how the idea of being considered disposable makes my stomach turn. Dependent on circumstance, in the instance when things end, are redefined by omission, or are no longer mutual, I tend to wonder if I gave all that I could, if there was something I could have done differently. Only now am I realizing that I give just enough - that it's up to others to give as much or merely take. That it's not worth feeling horrible because in my experience, you can never successfully hold a mirror in front of a habitual user's face.

If only there were a scientific balance for flesh-and-blood relations. I'd like to think that my conundrum and pseudo-self-analyzation will contribute to someone else's million dollar idea.

Revival

2010-05-24T19:27:00.000-07:00

I have decided to breathe some life into this thing because as of late, life in itself has been far too interesting. Yes, I realize that "interesting" is a relative term, that's why they call this personal blogging. In addition to being interesting, I have also found it to be absolutely hilarious - both in good and bad connotations - so much so that to not resurrect this thing would be a completely inappropriate move.

Since I last updated here, my relationship status has been set to single for the first time in three and a half years. I didn't realize how huge a part of my life being a couple was until recently trying my hand at dating/casual "interactions". Naturally, after a paltry three months of testing the waters (and diving in - thanks, Jack Daniels), I'm feeling kind of spent. First of all, the germophobe in me has never taken kindly to waiting any length of a three-month window period. Secondly, we all can't be Samantha Jones, or hell, even Miranda Hobbes (who, face it, got a lot of action in seasons 2 and 3 of Sex & the City). Were that there were really a balance... in attempting to broaden my social circle, I intend to find that out.

Since last updating here, I have also severed ties with the corporate world - or rather, they have with me. After five years of living in the shadow of multiple mergers I'm growing accustomed a somewhat flexible schedule consisting in part of meeting deadlines for the websites I contribute to (BeatCrave.com and WorkingAuthor.com), among other things. That said, I am either super busy or not at all, with the lack of corporate consistency proving to be a godsend as well as weighing heavily on the nerves.

I am also trying out some personal projects, one of which has garnered attention within the Los Angeles bicycling community (and surrounding counties); others involving a novel and two screenplays - the latter two ventures I will need to seek out a mentor for, I'm sure. I really have no idea what I'm doing. At this stage, I am merely trying, with not yet too bad an outcome. We'll see what takes place in the next six months.

One of the aforementioned projects - being a transportation/bicycling blog - is my pride and joy, as it mostly revolves around my adventures without a car in Los Angeles. Needless to say, it provides a lot of material and has been given backbone support by the interwebs. That said, with all the writing I've been doing (for at least the last twelve years) I hope to get into personal writing again... as well as quip on life, love, pop culture and politics in general, or whatever else may arise.

I remember once saying that my mind is a minefield of snippets. I guess it never hurts to watch your step.

Re-vamp

2009-12-28T18:51:00.000-08:00

So. I'm wondering what to do with this blog. Either leave it here and move to another one, or re-vamp this one in the new year to discuss what I really want to talk about. The question, however, is this: what do I want to talk about?

I, myself, right now, am all of the following:

a writer
a friend
a daughter
a girlfriend
a runner
a cyclist
a car-less Angeleno (but more so a Valley girl)
a dance freak
a reader
a gym rat
a reccesionista (hello, fashion)
a learner

I love to eat, go to museums, watch movies, go to concerts, garden, shop, play with patterns, analyze friendships/relationships/media, go to clubs. What in the world do I focus on?

Very few readers of mine, in this last week of 2009, I will figure it out. And in 2010, hopefully you will have some thick juicy content to use and inform others to your heart's content.

Soggy, unromantic me

2009-12-12T18:06:00.000-08:00

There was a time when I considered rain to be romantic. When I was a little girl I used to wander out in our prone-to-flooding family backyard in waterproof boots and what - a nightshirt? Flannel pants? School clothes? - I'd often wade in the marshy portions of grass, whose organism count had risen with the inches of rainwater... and while everyone else in the neighborhood would be lining their abodes with sandbags, I would be in the grass, wondering what it would be like if John Malkovich as Mr. Hyde would spirit me away from the Valley to the wet, foggy streets of 19th century London to the life of God knows what unspeakable horror.

Yes, conveniently, I would have just watched "Mary Reilly" for perhaps the fourth or fifth time. So maybe I have major issues as to what I find romantic.

As a woman, I can admire greatly the typical idea of romance from afar. Not to say that, as a woman, I am a sentimental fiend, but I can appreciate the things that make one go "aww", since most of life's routine ins and outs don't behold that response. I'd say my favorite recollection of romance would be roses sent to a co-worker on her birthday. Who couldn't notice the contrast of golden yellow petals flecked with red, just sitting there against the grey-beige of her desk. I've never received roses at work before, and that's okay. I've received reciprocated rated-X text messages, but that's about it.

Friggin' romance: in conversations with others, it seems I'm a little jaded for my twenty-something profile when it comes to things like hand-holding, lip-locking, gift-giving, and interpersonal exchanges of words. It's beyond obvious how I'd like to think that romance isn't chocolates or diamonds or hand holding in public places. Whatever, however. Familiarity, camaraderie, in the muck with me. This is romance... unless I'm entirely mistaken?

Bonus round: What do you define as "romantic"?

I'm kinda busy (but not really)

2009-12-10T15:09:00.001-08:00

It's not exactly been public knowledge, but I was laid off a week ago tomorrow. I'd known for about 3.5 months prior. Even still, it's been an interesting ride, the aftermath. Work, as much as I despised what the company I worked for became, was something that I did every day, something that I was good at, and something that I was thankful to bring a paycheck home from.

It's been nearly a week, and I've done all the things I wished I could've done from the confines of my cubicle: cleaned, done laundry, rode my bike, run, gone to the mall, to the movies, to the bank - hell, yesterday a friend and I went to City Hall for a meeting on cycling and transportation. I think I've done it all. Tomorrow I intend to meet my boyfriend for lunch and spend the better part of the weekend with him.

I've got so much time and I don't know what to do with it.

If anything, I hope in the next month to:

train my body to be accustomed to higher speeds on my bicycle
to write, write, write, no matter what it is
to ride, ride, ride, no matter where or for whatever reason
to help put together one of the floats for the upcoming Tournament of Roses
to organize my closet and donate whatever I don't want to the Salvation Army
and to learn to make meals to nourish both myself and my roommates, because why the hell not?

Other than that... I think that save for education, the internet, electricity, and other modern conveniences, I might go crazy.

/cry for help

Really?

2009-12-06T14:10:00.000-08:00

I just wanted to say that I'm happy to be viewed as a writer by my friends and fellow writers and others who - dare I say - depend on feedback, on analyzation. I am thankful for retaining a pseudo-creative way in validating a bias without the one reading being the wiser. I am happy to promote those I want to see do well, so long as the favor is returned (credit on a first and last name basis, please). Despite my doubts about my work and my relative ability, something tells me that this is standard criteria, this distrust and disbelief in self. I don't believe in fate, but I do believe that so long as someone has the drive, most anything is possible.

Yeah, I said it.

Lacking the drive

2009-11-24T22:06:00.000-08:00

So based on the way my blog has been booming in entries (not), it goes without saying that I've not been that inspired to let the world in on my opinions on the things that don't seem to matter so much in the greater scheme of things. That and I've just been too busy. Not recording a multi-platinum album or writing a best-selling novel brand of busy by any means. Pretty much, if it takes more than 140-160 characters to get across, it hasn't been that important. This, obviously, needs correcting.

Anyway, with that said, I had an observation this evening. My friend's been in New York for the last two weeks, and instead of his parking his truck at the airport for that length of time, I've been taking charge of its operations until he returns. Generally, since I take the bus, bicycle, or walk where I need to go, I've only driven it a handful of times since he's been away. This evening, however, I drove to my folks' house to pick up something, and on my way there I couldn't help but think that - even though I've driven very little since I got my driver's license - I'm a safe, cautious, practical driver. Never driving much over or under the speed limit, always using directionals, leaving a car length in front of me for each 10 mph when on the freeway, etc - what I consider to be reasonable rules of the road in which to avoid unnecessary accidents.

Living in Los Angeles, while it's not impossible to get by without the use of a vehicle, the majority of the population utilizes these readily available four-wheeled conveniences. Whether a personal, company, rented or borrowed vehicle, to have one at your disposal in order to get from Point A to Point B without relying on timetables is a nice feeling. As a result, nearly everyone in Los Angeles has a car. Nearly everyone.

I'm sitting here, wondering if I can get my point without actually offending anyone by coming out and saying it.

When something is exclusive - like a first class ticket, concierge services, a Club 33 membership - it usually means that some criteria must have been met prior to the red velvet rope having been set aside.

And while I understand that having a driver's license and driving a car don't necessarily mean the same thing, for purposes of this observation I'm going to pretend that it's the case. The requirements of having one's license are so low in comparison to what one actually learns on the road that it's like, why the formality? Especially when it seems that the supposed common sense doesn't kick in fast enough to avoid the making of a friggin' stupid move that does more damage than annoying the person in the vehicle behind you.

Peripheral vision is a godsend; if you don't know what it is, you shouldn't be driving. But rear-view mirrors, directionals, and easing up on the gas are also lovely ways to avoid erratic handling of self on the road. Being brake-happy is never a good thing. And hard stops (usually preceded by sharp cut-offs) are never necessary.

I just have to wonder if it's just me, or are people behaving more dumb as I get older? Or has it always been this way?

There's no nice way of saying someone is an idiot. One of these days, I will learn this.

Magic 8 ball

2009-10-20T17:28:00.000-07:00

I love writing.

I had a great time in New York in September - frequenting museums, parks, and Brooklyn/Manhattan in general - but the best time spent was in my brother's studio, and being allowed to write. I was given the time, and the silence, and often the playlist accessibility slash alcohol content to enjoy it thoroughly. Ah, my brother; he has a wall about thirty feet long lined with books. For the time that I was there - aside from eating, sleeping, and making love to the city - I could do the two things that make me the most happy in the world: read and write. I read, and I wrote. Give me time off, and this is how I spend it.

In the real world, however, writing would first off involve being paid for it. Having spoken with many a friend and peering over their shoulders while looking for jobs, I am greatly offended by the Craigslist ads that offer experience, but no pay. Sure, name recognition and the experience can be considered gratifying, but only for so long. As for me, sure it'd be great to search elsewhere for more experience, but not at the risk of no pay. Not to toot my own horn, but finding out that a local venue's website refers to some of my write-ups for featured bands tickles my happy nerve. Receiving thanks and kudos from a band for a blurb or a detailed mention makes my day. I've been wanting to write something other than melodramatic poetry since I was thirteen years old, and here I am. Dream lived. And while there are still various kinks to work out, I've now a portfolio and references. I'm ready to be recommended. It's just that I expressly remember at least five years ago there being other opportunities for paid freelance work for those eagerly seeking it. And believe me, I know a lot of freelance writers eagerly seeking it.

School starts again next spring. I'll be going for my bachelor's degree and to be a credentialed teacher. Needless to say that I'm somewhat worried at how much time I will or will not have to put to what I love doing. Obviously I will not let throwing my opinion at anything that moves get in the way of any academic endeavors; still, I'm interested in seeing what will happen in the world of journalism, personal essays, entertainment reviews, etc., as - hopefully - the cut and paste function will cease to be a dependable option, and things will start dying on the reality television front.

If only - if only - I could predict the future.

Mmm.

2009-09-22T20:55:00.001-07:00

It is 8:55pm on a Tuesday evening in southern California, and I cannot feel my toes.

Where and how are you?

In my universe, this is the middle-of-the-weekend. My boyfriend has safely returned from New York. For the last week we have forgone life's pleasures and have met at the center with food, life, and everything else in which to wish you and whoever chooses to read a safe and happy evening, wherever you may roam, conduct business, or otherwise.

ttfn

Ta Ta For Now

L.

A Brief "LA Candy" Dissection

2009-09-11T21:10:00.000-07:00

So I'm reading New York Times Bestseller LA Candy, "written" by reality starlet turned fashion designer Lauren Conrad, and I felt it highly important to say a few brief things about it. Forgive me as I dive in headfirst:

a) The writing in itself is a good skeleton, but does not have enough meat to be desirable. It's all bones, and as attractive a slender figure can be, bony doth not feel good.

b) If it was in fact ghost-written, that ghostwriter should find another gig. If you're getting paid to make something better, it should actually be friggin' good, and friggin' good it ain't. It's alarmingly mediocre.

c) Elaborate where appropriate. Descriptions such as "the pretty brick building" or "the tall, industrial-looking light" are too simple, or rather, too vague. A little less cut-and-paste and a little more realism, perhaps, would bring life to the surroundings and not the object only.

d) The constant mention places and having to explain them to the reader is not an effective way of description and involvement. Describing something shouldn't be a laundry list of adjectives or adverbs. They should sing and perhaps lure the reader into conjuring up their own images. Keep the parantheses to a minimum. And, El Pollo Loco does not need explaining. "The Crazy Chicken" we know.

I'm just disappointed in that she got a three-book-deal, but even more so that I'm actually reading the first of them. I'll probably read them all as some sort of modern, silent torture.

In reading it, I must say that I'm actually worried - worried in that I could one day submit a book idea to someone so shoddily put together and watered-down for readers, thinking it was hot stuff, and being made fun of/criticized harshly because of it. Being a bestseller wouldn't matter. Being the best at making money doesn't mean success, or prestige, or real value. I'm sure there are plenty of monetarily advanced drug dealers and prostitutes out there, too.

I know that I'm not the best writer out there, but I'd like to think that I'm good at what I do. That I'm honest in whatever format is in front of me. I've got to hand it to anyone writing fiction; it's not easy. But when this brand of fiction is based loosely on your real-life experience - come now. It should be [relatively] gravy. Again, I guess that's what one gets when making their real-life experience "fiction" instead of non-fiction so as to avoid all the legal fees.

I really don't mean to sound so bitter.

"The Hills", or How Reality Television Killed the Writer

2009-09-08T12:32:00.000-07:00

MTV's The Hills: reality show, soap opera, pop culture phenomenon. Starring Lauren Conrad, Heidi Montag, Audrina Patridge, Whitney Port and company, the show has refined the love of beautiful and expensive things while hiding under the guise of societal productivity. Having premiered in 2006, The Hills acted as a spin-off of MTV's Laguna Beach, an "experiment" of sorts with cameras and rich youth living in Southern California by the ocean (how Sunset Beach of them).

Laguna Beach launched the pseudo-career of Lauren Conrad, followed her all the way to her high school graduation, to her first year of college, all the while capitalizing on her tumultuous unrequited love triangle that contributed to one of the show's running storylines - for two seasons. The Hills picked up where Conrad had left Laguna Beach - driving down the freeway in her Mercedes en route to Los Angeles, "the city where dreams come true". As an intern at TEEN Vogue and full-time student at the Fashion Institude of Design and Merchandising (FIDM), Conrad had a lot on her plate to chew through and digest. Good thing her partner in crime - Heidi Montag, also to attend FIDM - was present to greet her poolside of their $3,000-a-month West Hollywood apartment complex.

Understanding the natural tendency to find other people's lives more interesting, The Hills has been successful to the Nth degree, having resulted in various spin-offs of its own (The City, starring Whitney Port working PR for Diane von Furstenburg in New York City, and soon, The Audrina Show - no guesses there). The more remarkable fact that remains is that none of this has consistently involved the continuous presence of a writer.

The situation comedy has been made obsolete by the reality and dating show format. Situation comedies considered to be hot stuff (ie Friends) weren't necessarily overly brilliant; however, despite the greed that infects any situation involving money, when things were good they were mutual between writers and actors. The experimental The Real World, on the heels or perhaps ankles of the universally-watched sitcom, was perhaps the first of its kind - a situation, comedic or otherwise, without the aid of a writer. It was with The Real World that shows like Laguna Beach - and eventually The Hills - were able to be inseminated into the womb of our subconscious.

As a teenager (albeit nineteen) I watched Laguna Beach, fascinated that the cameras could capture such drama and cattiness between blondes and brunettes alike. The dollar sign sheen on the BMWs, the Chanel shoes, and the unsupervised parties at suites overlooking the beach was brilliant as much as it was coveted. However, realizing that this money didn't belong to the onscreen participants themselves made the show in itself tolerable to watch. However, with what spin-offs such as The Hills have become - from relaxed somewhat contrived dinners at Luna Park then to "business meetings" at Salades De Provence now - it is clear that at least to an extent, much more than a release form has been signed. Something smells of lawyers present at various contract agreements ("her best angle") and salary negotiations (to the tune of, say $65K an episode for the lead).

Monsters are born, but they don't stay babies forever. Like the humans that bear them, eventually they learn to crawl, walk, talk, and feed themselves, always at their hosts' expense. There is no way to misunderstand something so much like ourselves when it is we the audience who keeps making it fat. Like the child of a loving parent, we will feed our children before we feed ourselves. The stars of The Hills seem to think that we forget certain things like times of day and when photos are taken along the timeline of the show's progression that contradict it continuously. Again, like the loving parents that we are, we realize that it would do no good to just kill the kid. Instead, we continue to indulge it, at least for one more season.

The Hills will air the second half of its fifth season later this month, and will now star Laguna Beach alum Kristin Cavallari, as Lauren Conrad has rather wisely decided to capitalize on more than her blonde hair and amazing wardrobe. Yes, even with all the broadcast trips to Mexico and Hawaii on private planes, and the numerous trips to the Warren Tricomi Salon, I still think give her props for doing so. Conrad has milked the teat for as long as she could latch onto it and now works relatively behind the scenes on a fashion line. While not the most inspiring gig, however, in the name of the monster who has led the way out of its controlled environment, others have come out of the woodwork - naturally, her replacement, Cavallari, and the most blatant of all, Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt (aka Speidi).

Whores carry and conceal disease. Need I say more?

Outside of the television realm (executed and in production), there have been books, blogs, albums, TV appearances, even fitness plans have been made available to satiate admitted gluttony. As of Thursday night last week, my video iPod has made friendly with the fourth of The Hills' five seasons. There appears to be no stopping these young, rich, and "untalented". My purchase alone is proof in that our fascination isn't helping them. We're enabling them. And yet it seems as if they're the ones that are doing something right.

Are we that inclined to let the madness remain?

structured rant

2009-09-02T23:22:00.000-07:00

I used to talk a lot when I was younger. I'm actually embarrassed by that. I'd like to think that this was because for a long time I didn't have much of a life. Being excitable and bright-eyed and really really young, I wanted everyone to like me. At seventeen, my life was a sterilized bubble of high school and religion. At eighteen I got a taste of something else, something completely different. Naturally I reverted back into the bubble for a year, but at nineteen I re-emerged. Of course, I still talked a lot because I still didn't have a lot going on, but with getting to know all sorts of people through work, school, and life in general, I've been able to channel whatever verbal word count I exceeded into print. It doesn't come nearly as easily, but there is the convenient benefit of self-editing.

I just don't like it when people talk a lot. It makes me nervous and uncomfortable. I often end up somewhere in the middle, wondering if they want me to participate or if they're just ranting and I should just sit by and let them go until there's no more fuel to burn. As a result I've become an expert at tuning people out. I'm trying to modify that 'talent' because only recently have I found that I might actually be missing out on something by doing so. But I can't help it. Sometimes people don't know when to shut up.

I keep my opinions to myself, unless they're spelled out on my face. It's not that I don't care; it's that most of the time I'm just too tired to respond. Unfortunately I think that I've fallen into the category of "Well, we'll just have to see how things pan out, shall we?" and "There's little to nothing that we can do at this point so why worry so much about it?" This would involve a lot of internalizing and blow-ups that just aren't pretty. I need to work on this if I would like for people to consider me dependable and decent. However, I don't need everyone do like me. I don't want everyone to like me as much as I'd rather a choice few think I'm intelligent with a reserved, neutral personality. As long as the universe knows that I'm reliable and don't contradict myself, I could really care less otherwise.

My day job involves listening for key phrases and controlling the conversation; keeping things short, sweet, and to the point. Benefit and detriment, that, but something I couldn't do before. I've gradually incorporated that into daily dealings, and as a result I actually like people, although not always. I just wish I could target what's my deal in that 'silence is golden' should be practiced by others, and not merely a suggestion flashed on a movie screen right before the previews.

Yeah, that's it.

/structured rant

Why I Love Lady Gaga

2009-09-01T19:04:00.000-07:00

Television has reminded me that Lady Gaga is considered to be a "new artist". On Sunday, September 13, she will be in the running for a number of honors at the MTV Music Awards, one of these being "best new artist". This post is pretty much to highlight why I happen to be drawn to this particular artist.

My first exposure to Lady Gaga was on Livejournal community ohnotheydidnt, a place for entertainment commentary both scathing and adoring. When photos of Lady Gaga started showing up rather frequently, I couldn't help thinking who the hell was this person impersonating Christina Aguilera, and why wasn't she wearing any pants?

Last December, my younger brother showed me a video on YouTube for a song called "Just Dance" by this artist, Lady Gaga. The music video involved a lot of drinking, making out, pimp cups, and wading in inflatable pools. I pretty much said to him in response, "Oh my God; what's wrong with these people? Is this what fun looks like?" Being a twenty-something, I should probably know the answer to that question, but it's safe to say that I don't.

Fast forward to - for some reason - listening to a song called "Poker Face". I actually really dug the song - the heavy beats, the synths, the glittery effect, yet the personality behind the voice belonging to this Lady Gaga person. I ended up watching the video on YouTube, naturally, and found that between 10 and 10:15 that evening I had watched/re-watched and replayed certain scenes at least a ten left-clicks. For some otherworldly reason I was transfixed by the stomping, platinum, electric blue hussy. She was by no means a lady. Two minutes later I was downloading the song on iTunes.

About two or three months ago, whilst on YouTube yet [again] I had seen one of those preview screencaps of the music-video-to-be-premiered, "Paparazzi". She had me at the subtitles and softcore faux foursome on the Victorian-era couch.

My playlists consist of only three of her songs - the aforementioned - and one music video. One of these days I'll own The Fame, a physical copy on sale at Target, probably. Naturally she has a great production team behind her - someone's running the show, but not enough to tell her what not to wear. God, what an amazing, effed-up sense of style. If she wore the same thing twice, those watching would definitely know; she's that out there. Most things on the runway aren't 'meant' to be worn in day-to-day life unless incorporated in a vanilla fashion. In a sense Lady Gaga is a walking, heaving-chested runway - especially with the suit of Kermit the Frogs. She takes chances, she not classically sexy, and her personality (I would like to think) is the oomph that differentiates her from other artists. Different, in a way that used to be and probably is still considered to be odd and a sign of trying too hard, but somehow manages to work.

Although, it probably helps that I've barely heard her opinion. Actually, I don't think I've ever heard her speaking voice. If I did, that would probably change everything.

(Editor's note: I was born in 1985. Cut me some slack.)

Lately

2009-08-25T21:18:00.000-07:00

I've been a little behind, with much apologies.

My folks went on their pretty-much-yearly trip to the Bahamas for two weeks by way of the Disney Cruise Line, and being a good daughter, I house-sat for them. Being that I'm one of their five children still living in the state of California, it was the most decent thing to do. Two weeks of a house, playing nursemaid to their two dogs and one cat, and most importantly, a fridge and pantry full of food. By full, I mean "could easily throw a party for twenty with this much food" full. A set-up such as this would ordinarily be heaven for your normal, average single individual, but considering that I'm neither normal nor average, I pretty much went through various levels of WTF in the last two weeks: where the positives were negatives, and what were once negatives were positives.

For one thing, I was provided full use of one of their [five] vehicles with which to drive to and from my place (to take care of my felines), to work, and to their place. Ordinarily my commute involves either a twelve-mile bicycle ride to and from work or by-luck use of Metro's services - no matter what, I am getting exercise at some time during a normal 12-14 hour day. However, with the car, although I was able to be rested and relaxed while driving to and from, well, everywhere, I was unable to be active for the time it was given me. Sloth, frumpy, and unattractive just covers the surface of how I felt. When my parents returned this past Saturday evening, I made sure to go on a 25-mile bicycle ride the very next day.

It must be said as well that with the time given me to enjoy by myself, I didn't really enjoy it at all. It's odd that the house in which one grows up in as a child does not feel like home without the instigators of the idea. And with work and commuting and responsibility taking the majority of my time, there was little time for fun. There was no Downtown ArtWalk for me. Whatever free time there was was bookended by thoughts of being here, being there, and oh Hell, I have to work tomorrow (don't get me started about work; that will take at least three paragraphs). I missed my roommates, who conveniently double as more than good friends and chosen family. And the wireless service at my folks' house? Sucks, as far as my laptop is concerned; their machines, available though they were, proved to be slow like honey. So what I consider to be purposeful work (writing) didn't get done within my or anyone else's timeframe. I turned in a blurb today, with no muss, no fuss. A review will be in tomorrow. Needless to say, I feel uber empowered at the thought of a reliable operating system and frakking high speed internet. Life's simple pleasures, indeed.

I'm a creature of habit, as we all are. In the last two years, I have become master of my domain. My domain, my control ship. Were that change were completely within our control, I think it would be welcomed a lot easier; however, that's not how it will ever work.

I am catching up.

Explanation, please?

2009-07-23T00:18:00.001-07:00

This morning I woke up from a dream in which I was going through a bunch of my dad's old memories in a closet/on a shelf, etc. One of these memories was a box of greeting cards that had the image of two white women with angry, justice-is-served faces, and a black man crying; the other image was of a boat sailing in the ocean, resembling some sort of people-freighter. The box, a sort of faded green color, was labeled with the phrase: "Some boys make bad mistakes." In the dream, I opened the box and inside was a short letter from my sister to my dad, which read:

"Dear Pop,

I'm sorry; I only realized what this was when I opened up the box. Maybe one day Lindsey can send me a birthday card.

Love,
Jessica"

It was then that I woke up.

I've no idea where all that came from, either, but damn it if it wasn't amusing enough to remember.

Dead and gone

2009-07-15T22:54:00.000-07:00

Thinking about the past can be both positive and negative. This evening, my thinking about the past is, unfortunately, a negative - which is funny, because not too long ago (read: last week), it was a positive.

Relationships end. Live and let live. But strangely enough, it's likely that the part of your self that was invested in said relationship will die along with it. It's been a slow death in my case, one five-and-a-half years in its duration. I've found happiness and richness in other relationships since, but it's difficult to really forget the way 'it' felt the first time. The newness of love, the spark, the desire. Or was that lust? I wouldn't have been able to tell you the difference then. Looking back, it was a delicate mixture of both. But there's only so much one can take. I understand that now.

The universe deals second chances in some ways, but doesn't in others. I would love it were I given a second chance, but I truly am thinking I was lucky enough to have been enjoyed the time while it lasted.

Yes, I am aware of the awkward drop off. Such is life.

Happy 4th of July...

2009-07-04T15:20:00.000-07:00

...from within the walls of my cubicle.

I shouldn't complain, though, as I had yesterday off from work. With these four-day work weeks, I've actually been able to enjoy some sort of summer vacation from school, which has virtually been unheard of in the last three years. While I haven't necessarily gone stale yet, I haven't been as active in social circles as I'd've liked. I am going to need to work on that.

I acknowledge that I haven't been writing here often as of late, and the reason for that I must admit is the little compact thought processor also known as Twitter. I've been enjoying cramming my thoughts into 140 characters. In some odd way it forces the person doing the conveying to be precise with their words, while allowing room to be creative, if applicable. Feel free to follow me; I'm sure we'll have a good time together.

Writing, reading, working - such is life as of late. Still no car, still no winning lottery ticket. Life is one day if not one moment at a time, and it's working out for now. Viewing life in such a way keeps me from freaking out about the future. For once in my life I'm totally uncertain as to what the future holds, where I'll be in a year when it comes to everything - professionally, in relationships, with school, living quarters, everything. It's all up in the air, subject to change. Living in the moment is the equivalent to living in a bubble filled with pure oxygen - it's safe... until it's popped, that is.

Should that moment arise, I hope to not break out in hives. Or, you know, die from exposure. Let's think the best, shall we?

Post-school days

2009-06-10T14:10:00.000-07:00

School is done with for the semester. It has literally been a whole day and a half and already I'm feeling a little weird. I'm positive that I won't be on the same campus that I have been for the last three years, adding classes and frequenting the library and the student store, experiencing late nights over an energy drink studying my brains out -- it's over at that location, at least. Right now I'm in a bit of limbo as I transfer from one school to the next (hopefully in the spring). I'm trying to figure out what next to do in the meantime. Considering that unfortunately I haven't been getting much satisfaction from writing lately (this semester was chock-full of writing, so much that rewrites and proofreading was out of the question) which is just... unheard of for me. Since I was thirteen, writing has always been a means of escape. My boyfriend suggested to me that I carry a notebook with me and set a number of pages to write every day and stick to it. The content doesn't matter, just free-flowing verses and phrases and observations and weavings of words, just to do it is the goal. So I will. Merely observing isn't enough; it is given life when on paper, even though it is frozen in space.

So that's what I'll be doing. Until I can get my transcripts together from this past semester, I'm also going to look into a dance class - what kind I don't yet know; swing? Modern? Jazz? Belly dancing? - and just... figure something out. More late-night bicycle rides? Reading more? The last thing I want is to go stale.

I don't know how you all do it.

Scattered about

2009-05-28T16:43:00.000-07:00

I had lunch with my dad yesterday. I love my dad; he is seriously one of the nicest people anyone could know. At the same time, he's so nice a guy that he doesn't realize how nice he is, and that really bothers me. He's so unmotivated, yet he has all of these dreams in a trunk going unfulfilled. He's let too much time go by to achieve them. Hell, I am definitely his daughter. Wishing, hoping, thinking, praying. Worrying about time, doubting anything and everything, but actually doing?... Eh, not so much. I mean, I'm doing things I never thought I could, at the belief and persistence of others' encouragement. I hope though to actually give myself credit for putting myself out there and trying, even if it feels so half-assed at times. Ah, but my daddy. I'm learning more about him every time we have lunch together - which I'm hoping will be everything other week or something. I'm thinking it's probably one of the biggest favors either of us could do for ourselves.

In other news, I've unfortunately let indimidation get the better of me when it comes to writing. Writing for my peers has never been a pleasure of mine, but for the last fourteen weeks it's all I've had to do. Still, it's been interesting having people take apart my work, and taking apart theirs. I told my creative writing professor that as much as I hate receiving criticism, I appreciate going through the experience - and she said that if I want to be a writer, there are going to be all sorts of ignorant comments knocking on the door, and it's going to be my job to sift through them like a pro. I'm nervous, but I'll take it on.

In the last fourteen weeks, I've also learned that the short story is the format for me. Since I was a teenager I've preferred to capture moments, minutes, seconds, because those always stayed with me longer than an actual day, or week. Sensations from sweet to sickening still take me by surprise whenever I feel them, and I find them beneficial to my spirit (or something like it) if I can write about it.

With that said, life has been okay. It's at a little bit of a standstill, but for what it is work has been good, and most everything else has been neutral. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop in so many areas. Looking forward to the summer to be able to enjoy writing, and getting in touch with people, being a young and crazy twenty-something (like I ever was before; hah!). And oddly enough, I've been feeling something that feels similar to ... jealousy? And I'm not quite fond of it. Jealousy does not become me. I'll be through with it soon.

As of late

2009-05-09T23:24:00.000-07:00

Life has been going relatively well. Heading towards the end of yet another academic semester, I feel as scared as I did going in. I will be obtaining a degree and quickly working towards another. I am proud of myself yet wish I did things differently (like spent less time toggling between YouTube and Twitter and did homework when I had the time). I am interested in seeing what the future holds, still as a student next spring. In one way or another, I'll always be a student. When it comes to writing, I'm still learning every day. At the same time, though, I'll look at something I've written between the 300 and 500 character frame and wonder how tired I was when I wrote what I did, because "I don't remember writing that". Yet it still read well. Someone tell me that's one sign of a good writer, please. Indulge me. In either case, at the end of this month it will have been a year since I found myself ducking out into the corporate stairwell, answering a phone call from Mali, being given instructions to log into Wordpress. It goes without saying that I'm really appreciative of the opportunity of building, expanding on, and retaining a voice.

Day job corporate bullshit has hit the fan, involving a new schedule (4-day workweek [M, Thu-Sa from 8am-7pm]) starting this coming Saturday, May 16. Me[and the rest of the staff]thinks that this is an operative motion to drive us out to avoid severance and unemployment - a thought that used to cripple, but actually has driven me to do better. I believe that I have. Lay-offs have come in quarters, as in of the year, so I'm going to brace myself for the next cut to pendulum swing at the end of June and take my head with it. If so, it'll be bittersweet; if not, same emotional outcome. You can't win and you can't lose with a pompous, indecisive, insecure corporation; you can only work with what you've got.

In my spare time, I've taken up running and working out with the goal of running the LA Marathon in 2010. Towards that goal, I'm working on running 6 miles in one go without effing with my knee (working on it!). In a little under a month, I'm planning on bicycling 100 miles as part of the LA River Ride. I enjoy being active, feeling strong. It takes away from the 8 hours a day my ass is glued to my desk chair, and I love the definition in my legs and abs (not done yet, but we're getting there). Ability does wonders.

Hopefully this blog will become more conversational to anyone reading, given the lack of time I've spent here. This year has been full of writing - with school, my day job, with reviewing and featuring. I've honestly never written more in my life, hence the disappearing act. When I do talk with others, though, I've been doing so over the phone, via IM outlets, email, etc. Going out. Having dinner. Spending the night. Going for a walk. Maybe I'm a little jaded, but I've become of the mind that blogging/talking about yourself is a bit self-serving, self-promoting, self-ego-stroking, kind of like masturbation. All of which is well and good. Still, it's rather nice once you find that someone else can mutually do the job for you.

Angry.

2009-03-31T21:00:00.000-07:00

I bought a new computer last November. A beautiful Dell XPS, perfect hard drive space, easy functionality. Absolute perfection, until it began crash dumping me earlier this year. When getting files for an album I would have like to have reviewed what seems like eons ago (more like more than a week), my memory crashed in such a way that I can't start up my computer. AT ALL. My short story due tomorrow afternoon was on that computer, and I didn't get to email it to myself before it crashed. I worked my ass off on that assignment, and every other assignment, whether professional or academic. My music/work is on that computer. My brand-new computer = a piece of shit (which thankfully is still under warranty). I am angry about that.

A few weeks ago, the insurance company that I work for eliminated my job title. But I'm still a licensed auto insurance agent, so why not put me into the general queue for calls? The system is so regimented and without room for leeway and I'm pretty much shackled to my desk from day break to twilight. Today, I made it through the third layoff in less than six months. I am angry about that.

I feel rather isolated from my family because of where I'm apportioning my time. I am angry about that.

I feel thrown off from my schedule and don't even know what I should be working on. I am angry about that.

I really want to go to bed, but I can't afford it. I am angry about that.

Looking in

2009-03-04T22:26:00.000-08:00

I had an interesting experience in my creative writing class tonight. Ah, creative writing. The perks of working towards one's English degree. Our weekly assignments involve putting together works (this week, a poem; next week, a short story; in the near future, non-fictional essays), and I was randomly put into a group with other classmates. Through random acts of conversation, I found out that I was the oldest person in the group (24). No biggie. What was a pseudo-biggie to me, however, was one particular nineteen-year old girl who reminded me oddly of myself when I was that age - talkative, green, and fixated on extraordinarily frivolous things. This was pretty much revealed to me when we were analyzing a descriptive poem on elements of heartbreak, when she blurted out: "Well, I've never felt that before, but I was transported to 'that place', so I think it was a very well-written piece." It was as cute as it was annoying as it was funny. I don't know if at nineteen I'd've said something to that magnitude, although I probably would have at eighteen. At eighteen, ignorance was bliss, but at nineteen I already had the privilege of being sufficiently broken, and would learn not to be so disappointed in friendships/relationships thereafter. Rest assured, I would rather be jaded, balanced, and know how to let go than feel torn every time something ends, like a poorly formed sentence fragment.

That said, it was just funny, and refreshing to acknowledge the space between 19 and 24. In part because of a really sheltered upbringing, I've slowly realized this as time has gone on. Tonight had a hand in cementing that - while I'm still struggling to find my sea legs - I'm such a different person than I was even three years ago, two years ago. Although work and school leaves me feeling out of place as an individual, I notice how more refined I am as it were, if not perfectly polished. I like myself a lot more than I used to, and wouldn't trade the progression with a younger person if you paid me.

I think that's it. I wonder what I'll realize when I'm fifty.

today, i must:

2009-03-03T08:26:00.000-08:00

-listen to Oh No Not Stereo's LP and hammer out a skeleton for a review to complete tomorrow night
-work out in the gym
-write a "goodbye letter" in the form of a symbolic poem
-go grocery shopping after work
-CLEAN MY ROOM (the sign of a full-time-everything [employee/undergrad/writer] is a room that hasn't been cleaned in two weeks, but an obvious attempt thanks to the sight of clean laundry crumpled and rolled up in the tidiest corner of the room)

since school started, there doesn't seem to be nearly as much time in the day as i'd like - probably because i'm allowing myself to sleep this semester, and maintain my figure.

eh. i'm annoyed and reduced to lower-case letters. so long as no one judges me - let me have my lower-case letters.

TGIF

2009-02-20T08:45:00.001-08:00

on my desk
frozen daiquiri-scented lotion
a Ziploc of dry oats & orange-flavored cranberries
cup of coffee
access badge
a pen
video iPod
PoliSci book
card to be mailed to my sister in Nebraska
sugar-free Red Bull
corporate letters to go out into the afternoon mail
Coach purse

inside my purse
sunglasses
makeup bag (powder, eyeliner, eyeshadow, lip tint, lip gloss, blush, mascara)
wallet
cell phone
antibacterial solution
digital camera
birth control pills
condoms
raw almonds
loose change
a pen
keys to my desk

this morning (before 7:15), i
compiled a list of shows going on on the east and west coasts this weekend for BeatCrave.com
did 45 minutes of cardio
cleaned the bathroom
shifted things around the room
packed my TRKFLD bag
got to work on-time, at 8:02am

schedule
break 10:00 - 10:15
lunch with Pop 12:00 - 1:00
break 3:00 - 3:15
work, or wait for calls to come in, or study, or write review on Serge Gainsbourg's posthumous CD release 3:15 - 5:00
en route to Sierra Madre via Metro 5:15 - 7:15
sushi.... perhaps?,
company, then sleep

Mundane/Monday

2009-02-10T00:03:00.001-08:00

School started up again today. I'm not a huge fan of these long days - up at 6:00, out at 7:15, at my desk at 8:00, done with the day at 5:00 pm --- my favorite part of it all is sitting in the computer lab and writing until class starts at 7:00pm. Still, by the time 8:00pm rolls around I'm thinking, "Damn, I was in this position only in heels and at a computer, getting ready to tuck into the beginning of the day a whole 12 hours ago". That is when I start to get tired, when 10:00 pm seems so far away, and midnight even farther. Thankfully, this semester I'll only be doing this once a week. My other classes are online or in the afternoon - the latter of which I hope works out.

Tired as I am, it's a really nice feeling, though, being on this side of the day - with hair washed of sweet suds, in a nightshirt and between soft sheets.

I'd better get to bed.

Mmm, effervescent

2009-01-31T13:04:00.000-08:00

My brother introduced me to Kombucha when I visited him in New York last November. GT's Kombucha: I first tried the Gingerade, which is a combination of the miracle-stuff plus pressed ginger, and it tickled my innards so much that I've been trying to find it out here since I came back home. I finally found it at an LA farmers market, and today they were on sale... a branch of the stuff called Synergy offered my flavors of Cosmic Cranberry (sitting to my right, half-empty)... Guava Goddess and Gingerberry are chilling in the fridge as we write. I've got to say that I'm not the purest being in the world. I enjoy a decent-sized amount of corruption here and there. But with the guilt comes the detoxing, the fasts, the cleanses, and with that comes the Kombucha. I stick by the idea that one's body is a temple for sure, but mine is a nondenominational one - let the parties commence, just take care to leave it presentable when you're finished, or when there are visitors.

More importantly, the stuff now is added to a long list of things that I associate with my brother, which I like to call Comfort Quirks...

milk chews
pistachio nougat
french-pressed coffee
pomegranate sorbet
Jeeves & Wooster
yellow raincoats
green Doc Martens
red and black Pandas
and so much more...

I've a second birthday party of sorts to rest up for tonight. Steven and I got up and out of the house way too early this morning and crossed out of a lot of errands. At this point, I'm all for lazing about until at least 6:00 pm.

The weekend has only begun.

And no, there will not be any time to watch the Superbowl tomorrow.

Fall down, go 'Christ, that hurts!'

2009-01-29T22:18:00.000-08:00

Some friends and I are bicycle fiends. We are attempting to do a century ride in Palm Springs next month - the Tour de Palm Springs - and apparently in the first 20 miles there is a hill that pretty much will test my strengths as a cyclist. So in preparation, I've been attempting to ride my bicycle up Reseda Boulevard in the San Fernando Valley to its top - officially known as Reseda Backbone and Topanga State Park (click). Last Sunday I didn't do so well. I stopped about six times and walked up part of the way. But this week I've been doing some training in the gym, and felt confident enough to try the hill again tonight. Well, I made it to the top; I only stopped once. The view of the Valley was gorgeous; I have great photos to prove it. On the way down, however, I noticed something wrong with the gears, and I positioned my hand to attempt to fix them. Big mistake. Two seconds later I find myself on the ground in pain after doing a front flip as a result of my hand slipping and hitting the front brake. I don't have a bruise yet, but my right hip and elbow got banged pretty good. Thank goodness for a sweet couple - Sam and Natalie - who were up also on the hill and came to see if I was okay. They even watched the bike with me until my housemate came to rescue me and hear about my fall.

So I suppose its official. I've fallen and I've got the to-be scars to prove it. I'm no longer a prissy cyclist. I have potential.

I hope I don't wake up all sore tomorrow. On the one hand, I'd be glad to take the day off of work, because Lord knows I'll be told that I should've stayed home. But on the other, I'll have to spend the morning in bed, when all I'll want to do is take my two-wheeled beauty out for a scenic ride around the lake.

I can't win!

Views of the city

2009-01-27T16:02:00.000-08:00

I stood on the sixth floor and took advantage of the pseudo-panoramic view of the West Valley
I looked at the cars on the street below, zooming north and south, east and west
and wondered where the very cute cream-colored black-topped Mini Cooper could be headed at 3:42 in the afternoon
Why the hell am I so zapped of energy?,
I wondered while staring at my curls in the window's reflection
Mein eyes made their way down towards my shiny pumps... then up, then down
and for a moment the rare but elusive thought flashed through my mind:
'Perhaps my figure's not so bad'
I gazed to the left at the moutains towards Malibu;
gazed to the right, hmm, San Gabriel
The Hollywood Hills were somewhere southeast
but they were blocked by plaster and florescent lighting
The sun penetrated the weather-proof glass and ran its heated tongue across my forehead as the soda machine hummed an incompetent composition
Turning on my heel I noticed discarded pages of the Daily News, numbering the thousands having recently made the line to the unemployment office wrap-around the building...
...like a good girl, I headed to my desk

Run[ny-nose ]down

2009-01-24T21:40:00.000-08:00

It's the weirdest thing having such a stuffed-up nose that I can't taste at all the vodka in my Skinny Bitch.

It's been a good day. Not only do I finally own a Coach purse (with plum lining), but I also had the honor of being complimented so sweetly by one Ms. Arden Kaywin.

Happy 31st, Mom and Pop.

A Charlie Brown recession anniversary

2009-01-22T20:05:00.001-08:00

My folks' 31st wedding anniversary was yesterday, so I took Pop and my younger brother out for a Chinese dinner prior to Mom's return from Washington, D.C. today. Dinner on me was just the start of the celebration, as my family's tradition has yet to take place.

On the Saturday of the week in which my folks' wedding anniversary falls, we all get together and have our version of Christmas. Or at least that's what I like to call it. These days I celebrate Christmas; however, growing up as a Jehovah's Witness - a faith that my folks still cling to - I did not. So with this event of sorts coupled with glorious paganism, it's as if I get to partake in two Christmases in a matter of months. So we (which this year will consist of my younger brother and myself) will give them presents, after which they will take us out and we get whatever the hell we please - at their insistence. I'll want money. But I'm probably going to get something I don't need, like a hot pink sweater.

Despite all of that, I made a concerted point to get Mom and Pop substantial things to utilize as well as enjoy. In the spirit of prudence, I procured for them the following gifts:

a fine shiraz to toast to at least another 31 years of unity
tan moccasin slippers (for Pop)
navy blue slipper socks with a red cherry at their toes (for Mom)
a copy of Parliament Funkadelic: The Mothership Connection that I had the pleasure of reviewing recently (for Pop)
body butter, body splash, bath bubbles, and shower gel in Warm Vanilla Sugar from Bath & Body Works (for Mom)
and of course an obligatory anniversary card with bunny rabbits on it

(Of course I ended up treating myself a lovely pair of tan suede moccasins, and red pajama pants with white hearts on them. I really need to quit the spending on myself, really. After much struggle earlier in the evening, I did put down the InTouch Weekly and Coach purse that was on sale, and purchased toilet bowl cleaner instead. Shopaholics Anonymous much?)

In prior years, I've gotten them presents that have merely been "cool": such as the one time I got them a personalized commemorative paving stone in the courtyard between Disneyland and Disney's California Adventure. I still don't even remember how that all happened, but my whenever my folks stop by to catch a glimpse of it, their eyes get all misty and glassy, as was the intention, and then I think how much it was worth it. While I'm certain that they won't react along the same vein when caressing their new slippers, I'd like to think that they'll appreciate the thought and reasonableness this year instead of a boatload of frivolous things, just trying to impress them.

Besides -- I think they can wait to see the Alvin Ailey Dance Company at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion until March, do you?

Whatever makes you brag

2009-01-21T23:21:00.001-08:00

Sick and perverted is me.

My closeted guilty pleasure is The Hills on MTV. I'm not sure exactly why. Well, you've got the young and rich living in Los Angeles working in the fashion industry or working the front door at a night club or as an event planner, or working as a receptionist at a music label, whatever - and meeting at restaurants to not eat, yet to gossip and be seen. It's Los Angeles. It's the westside, it's Santa Monica, it's the Valley. With the exception of thinking one can make a sizable paycheck working as an intern or part-time in any big city, I'd say the depiction is close to accurate. Damn you, MTV.

This world that reality-whore Adam DiVello has created makes it so it's difficult not to envision CGI name tags following one at every eatery or club or nature spot, even on sunny SoCal-esque days. Now that it's most easy to, say, conjure a playlist of flimsily apropos tunes designed to bridge the redundant hours and moments of the day, it's all the more simple to fabricate one's own importance in this town. I wonder when it will all end, the fascination with ~~beautiful people~~ flawless nobodies.

Yeah. I'm thinking never.

Coming down off of a cloud

2009-01-19T08:43:00.001-08:00

While my birthday weekend has come to a close, birthday season is far from over. Tomorrow is my friend's birthday, and towards the end of the month there is to be at least one more get together of comrades and such. But this entry is to highlight the events that took place over the last few days - in singular word/phrase form only, and likely with an abrupt ending.

driving up PCH towards Point Mugu Naval base
driving down PCH, pit-stopping at Paradise Cove
pineapple mango margaritas, crabcakes, and seared ahi
warm wooden chairs on the beach for hours
one pound of See's Candies Nuts & Chews
napping in dark sheets under a glow of red [curtains]
a custom-built specialized road bike ZOMG
stuffed grape leaves on a mediterranean plate
a birthday cake with 24 candles
and then the sun rises
25 miles around the lake on the road bike
the essence of warm water and almond hemp soap in my hair
sandwiches at the park with the chosen family and the baby
'good lovin'; I've got a truck load'
16-20 miles 'round Los Angeles with the alternative cycling community
twinkling rear lights coasting up and down hilly streets
jumping rope in the park with a messload of beer-infused youth
and then the cops came
home
sleep
heat-drunkeness at Fred 62 over coffee, Stacey, and conversation
pancakes with white cream and strawberries
afternoon delight with Hollywood
and twilight conversation in the Valley
"House",
leftovers,
Steven,
and sleep

Pre-birthday celebration

2009-01-11T10:16:00.000-08:00

In my world, January is the month where a everyone has their birthday... coming along so soon after the holidays, it can be monetarily taxing and difficult to get everywhere and appease everyone, so a mutual friend threw four ladies (myself included) a joint birthday party at his loft in Pasadena. There were familiar faces, good nibblies, and cupcakes with candles. Fun stuff; afterward, we headed to NeoMeze to dance. I haven't been dancing in a few years, so it was just --- nice to be out with friends, wearing a swishy dress, and getting some well-deserved blisters on my feet from wearing heels. At a quarter after 1am, we headed back to the foothills, looking for the perfect fast food to soak up the alcohol bound to bite my ass in the morning. And after making safe passage through the front door to his living room, I found myself on the black leather couch, peeling gold-and-bronze straps from around my ankles, and apportioning fries and burgers while settling in to A Clockwork Orange until 3:00 am. Lovely. My birthday isn't until next Friday, but in cases like this, "a bit premature" is never a bad thing.

Happy New Year

2009-01-01T16:12:00.000-08:00

After work, I went to the mall and set sights on a plunge-V-neck, calf-length turquoise number that complimented my already-had pair of violet faux-alligator heels perfectly. Steven and I went out to dinner with my housemates - a five-minute walk from home at most - after which we headed home to chill out and do a whole lot of nothing.

A few New Year's Eves ago I was out an about in Hollywood. There was Jesus freak on a bicycle and my cell phone battery was near-death. I'd had a pretty lackluster day, and apparently the forecast had called for rain. Of course I was under-dressed, somewhere on Sunset and Ivar. This was before the Red Line, so it was pretty miserable in thinking how I'd be making it back home. The night ended well, but I learned that ringing in the new year doesn't mean being in the heart of it all; it's being where your heart wants you to be. Not as deep as it sounds, really. This year I wanted to be at home, so there I sat in my beautiful dress, with the ones most closest to me. And as we all cringed with severe empathy at Dick Clark's face ~~(it must've been superimposed, either that or it was a kabuki mask)~~ as the clock struck twelve, I knew there was no place I'd rather have been.

The new year so far has been pretty satisfying: I've a couple of pies in the oven, and the only place I've been today was to Santa Monica, for pizza at Bravo. Not bad considering 2009 is only a little over sixteen hours along.

Post-joytastic

2008-12-29T11:04:00.000-08:00

Ah. Back to the grind.

The holidays were nice, I must admit. Christmas Eve meant dinner with my housemate's folks, her brother and his girlfriend, and her husband and baby. They are the coolest people in that they have me in like their own family. Those type of people are hard to come by...

Christmas day I woke up late, watched the Yule Log show while I did some writing; helped myself to an after noon nip at the cooking sherry, then headed to the movie theater with my brother to watch The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. With it being sold out, we resorted to watching The Spirit. Don't be fooled by the stylized commercials; that film is godawful. Don't waste your money.

I went back to work on Boxing Day, 'til 1:00 pm - our last of the last out-of-work-early Fridays. At its end I went home, wrapped presents (for our gift exchange to take place on Sunday), and made plans with my folks to head to Disneyland on Saturday at 7:00 am. They didn't arrive until 11:00 am. I was pissed, but by the time dinner came to a close at 8:30 pm and I had to leave, I was sorry to have to go.

Sunday's gift exchange resulted in a vintage HUSTLER t-shirt, a book on vicarious living, a bike light (with seven settings!) and bread mixes for me to bake this winter. Very satisfying. Sunday also had the nerve to test the limits of my patience towards my relationship with my boyfriend, but that led to a concerted making up session, and, well... the satisfaction that comes with that can never be argued with.

And here I am at my desk, on Monday morning. My younger brother and folks are still at the Happiest Place on Earth, and will be there until New Year's Eve. My boyfriend and his mother are heading to Oceanside and San Clemente Pier today. As for me, handholder and faux pas therapist, I'm looking forward to 5:00 pm, when I will be pedalling on home and settling in for the evening.

I'm so glad this will be yet another short week.

Our office won't be observing another holiday until Memorial Day.

Temper, temper

2008-12-28T22:11:00.000-08:00

envious
slighted
bothered
annoyed
temperamental

Arrested Development, take me away...

Offset the Grinch

2008-12-22T00:48:00.000-08:00

It's officially the week of Christmas, and it still doesn't really feel like Christmas yet. It feels closer than ever before, what with the candy canes, the snow, the egg nog and gingerbread men - but it doesn't feel all holly jolly as it used to. I'm wondering if it ever did in the last few years, or if it was just my imagination. Steve and I went to Disneyland yesterday - so much fun. We saw the parade, got coffee and watched the chefs make candy canes at the Candy Palace - but we were so anxious over all the crowds that the Grinch in us crept up more than once. Ah, so aggravating. But I'll tell ya, there was no grander sight than the Christmas tree in Town Square - the star at the top of it, the presents below, all the while balls of silver and ... red and green. The planters were a sea of red poinsettias, and made for really good photos. What took me by surprise was what they did to it's a small world! - at 10:15pm all the lights in the Fantasyland area went off, and there were various holiday songs being played while a Christmas scene/Christmas theme was cast alongside the facade of it's a small world holiday!... and it was simply, absolutely fabulous. The thing is that I've been going to Disneyland since I was about 3 or 4, so I know the place like the back of my hand. But sometimes I go there and am pleasantly surprised. The aforementioned was a good example of that. A better example of that was the 50th anniversary of Disneyland's opening, and also the recent addition of Toy Story Mania at California Adventure. Absolutely stunning!

I suppose all that said leads into how important I think we should feel some sort of wonderment in whatever it is that we do. I don't know if it's entirely possible. All the time, ain't gonna happen - but it would be nice to embrace the wide-eyedness as long as it's still allowed to exist within us. I've felt a lot older than intended this year. Time to backpedal a few emotional decades.

I'm offering this simple phrase
To kids from 1 to 92
Although it's been said many times, many ways:
Merry Christmas to you

Wine, woman, and gall

2008-12-14T20:30:00.000-08:00

This weekend turned out a lot better than expected...

I'd intended on spending the better of the weekend with my boyfriend, but due to impromptu sickness on his end and an impending final on mine, it was decided that it'd be best that I stay home. Needless to say I was rather bummed. I recall heading home from work on Friday wanting to punch a wall, but eh - what are ya gonna do? That evening I studied, and watched the dog while my housemates headed to an annual corporate Christmas party. Saturday afternoon was full of studying as well, and a fair brunch at a kitschy eatery in Studio City. More studying occurred until I got an email follow-up about a Garden Party in Hollywood that I wasn't going to be able to attend, but since I was home I made sure to re-jump on the chance. EXITMUSIC was the band, and they are indeed a good listen. Incidentally I'll be writing about the experience shortly on BeatCrave, so be sure to check it out in the next coming days...

After the show I figured I'd go for dinner, perhaps at Fred 62 or somewhere else up Vermont, so I called my friend Erik, who was at a houseparty of sorts in his building. The gist of it ended up being that the party would start on the top floor, and would make its way steadily downward to the bottom floor. The building is four floors - I made it to floor two, and therefore made it through shots of tequila, mulled wine with cloves, a tequila sunrise, mojitos, sangria, and pseudo-white russians. I memory-banked a lot of new faces, and emitted sounds of amusement at each pit stop; however, my mind had the decency to black out when we got back to his apartment. I found it comforting upon waking this morning to be half-naked in bed with an old flame and know out of mutual respect there would be no residual nether-region soreness as the day would go along. It wasn't long afterward that my liver and brain began to hate me - until about noon today, until I quelled the resulting headache and nausea with poached eggs & salmon a la Madame Matisse.

This afternoon, I grocery-shopped in NOHO, walked home, and studied.

Not a bad weekend, for being completely and totally off-the-cuff.

Peek-a-boo

2008-12-12T09:15:00.000-08:00

So it's not that I haven't been around. I've been around; I've just been busy. It's the end of the year, meaning the end of the semester, meaning finals next week. I'm almost done with general education work, which is both good and bad: good in that I'm almost done; bad in that the classes I need fill up quickly or aren't readily available. So I've been contending with that, taking a lighter load than usual, with the same level of stress. One of my professors hasn't been around for most of the term, so I'm freaking about next week's final (involving complex math). The other class (history) I will pass with flying colors. After this, I've at least one more [unwanted] semester to go, but it's better than another two years on the same campus. I'm ready for the next level.

In other news, Christmas presents to self are already taken care of - I bought a new wardrobe, a new computer, new shoes, and a new camera on various purposeful whims in the last few months, so I don't know what else I could ask for. WIth the exception of perhaps a swanky set of bed sheets, a cartilage piercing, or a crockpot, I really don't want anything else materially (although I'm saving for a Louis Vuitton purse when I get my BA; just saying).

Writing has been going really well - I'm happy to say that I'm going on seven months of experience [being the name we give to our mistakes], and I hope to keep it up in the same format for some time.

The one thing I could say needs working on lately is reconnecting with family - with my sister having moved to Nebraska, my brother out in New York, my other sister separated due to religious differences, and my folks & lil bro just in their own day-to-day, it's been difficult to genuinely connect on a regular basis. But it's interesting in that growing amicably away from them, I've grown a hell of a lot in the last five years. It's been incredibly sobering.

That's about it. My mind is a minefield of snippets.

Home again

2008-11-30T03:56:00.000-08:00

Can you tell that I didn't want to leave New York?

I love the city, always. The state, definitely. But it's my brother that makes my visits. If I were visiting him in Bumf*ck, NE, it would still be a treat. I miss him like -- well, like the deserts miss the rain.

A little belated, but I am thankful for the following:

my cats, Chloe and Alice
my chosen family (including squid)
my brothers Joshua and Joel, and sister Jessica
my nephew Matthew
my brother-in-law Craig
my folks
warm blankets
my bed
having a place to live
my developing sense of style
being able to write for the semi-masses
text messages
Gmail
JetBlue
my video iPod
black eyeliner
an operable transit system
the History channel
having a savings account
flip-flops
electricity
running water
libraries
this website
this one, too
specialty grocery, spice, & tea shops
200 canal street
Target super stores
higher education
"Yes We Can"
candied ginger
sales sales sales
the five senses

and everything in between

I hope it was a happy Thanksgiving (or day off, or weekend) for everyone.

New York, Day 7

2008-11-21T16:25:00.001-08:00

Went to Kalustyan's today - bought an assortment of loose teas (moroccan mint, thai tea, and evening comfort [ginger & peppermint blend]), mint chocolate malted milk balls, medjool with "almonds" coconut & sugar, zaatar bread, and pistachio nougat.

Then I went to the Met, where I heavily perused the Roman and Greek art, and the European Sculpture courtyard. I love watching the artists do sketchwork of the various breathtaking pieces. It's all so incredible, skylights and all.

For the second time this week there was a forced detour on the subways (due to routine maintenance and police investigation), but I was able to maneuver and make it back to the abode - unscathed, but with knowledge on how to function by way of an alternative method, and without having to call a car. I owe it in part to being somewhat transit-savvy back home in Los Angeles. Which reminds me: when I get back to LA, I should probably find time to update this blog - it's been almost four weeks. I owe it to relative stresses piled so far up on each other that they finally collapsed. . . and it took a week(plus)-long vacation to get things settled.

When I come back home on Sunday, I'll have Monday off from work (day job; writing will resume).
I'll be in my cubicle on Tuesday.
Wednesday through Sunday, I will not.

Vacation (unplanned!) part two.

But for now (this evening), my brother and I will be going to the Russian & Turkish baths. . . maybe I'll splurge for a massage, but the regular treatments sound wonderful right about now.

New York: Day 5

2008-11-19T15:12:00.001-08:00

(borrowed from my LiveJournal)

Omigosh, it's cold outside. And inside.

We went to Greeenwood Cemetery today, and only made it a few hours - my feet are still frozen. But it was wonderful and serene, until it got unbearingly cold. It's apparently 35 degrees, but according to weather.com it feels like 29 (that would be about right). And unfortunately, the heat won't be coming on tonight, so I'll be in my coat and sneakers throughout the evening.

There's this roof down below that developed a pool of water from saturday's rainfall... that pool has now frozen. We could go ice skating if wanted to.

I've been having a fun time, though. I've already gone to the Museum of Natural History, walked through Central Park, had a good evening with friends, and thought about riding a bike around town (idea quickly scratched). Tomorrow, am planning on going 'round Union Square way to Filene's Basement, The Strand, Virgin Megastore... perhaps it'll be market day and I can pick up some goodies. Friday I'm planning on going to the Met, and Kalutzyan's spice shop for loose teas and such (it's such a friggin' highlight; I'm looking forward to it, okay?), and then Saturday... we shall see. I leave Sunday.

Yeah. If it weren't for four adults and a baby (not mine), I'd consider not coming home.

I always say that.

New

2008-11-19T15:12:00.000-08:00

Never sleeps

2008-11-16T23:21:00.000-08:00

Been having a great time in New York so far. Weather was inclement yesterday, and this morning began at two o'clock in the afternoon, so things have been a little off, but consistently good. I've already been charmingly drunk twice, and I don't intend on stopping the rest of the time I'm here.

Tomorrow I'll be up at around 10am - it's off to the Museum of Natural History and a walk through Central Park until I hit 86th & Lexington - then it's back to my brother's office for perhaps more Arrested Development (am already on Season 2) and dinner. Tonight, alongside champagne and sidecars at Five Leaves, we had celery and horseradish soup, kale, and beet root salad, and a dish of pomegranate sorbet for dessert. Sometime before I leave I'm going to try the lamb shepherd's pie and perhaps a pomegranate martini. But we'll have to see.

I'm just looking forward to making my legs sore by hitting the pavement excessively tomorrow.

I really wish that I didn't have to go home. But I won't, not after another full 6.5 days, at least.

Family

2008-11-13T22:56:00.000-08:00

My sister from Escondido is so -- I don't know. Please give me license to vent on this one, though.

My sister from Escondido is a piece of work. I'm sure she's nice enough, but she's such a contradiction, such a faux pas beast. I don't know if I'll ever allow myself to care for her much. Unfortunately so as she's sitting not twenty feet away from me right now.

We used to be Jehovah's Witnesses (or rather, I used to be one, about six years ago). We believed in things like The Organization, The Society, The New System - that protective bubble of old white men that shows 'us' the way in which we should go in order to be as pure as possible, the best way in which to better ourselves.

My sister is still one of Jehovah's Witnesses. I can't stand her. It's unfortunate because everytime I think "Jehovah's Witness" I think of her, in the same way that if anyone thinks of any other general low level on which to place another, they will because that's been their experience.

I just feel that she's out to get me with her sharp sugar-coated knives. Do you have family like that?

Stupid bitch. That is all.

I leave for New York tomorrow night. I'm so thrilled.

It's about time for this vacation to begin.

Afterglow

2008-11-10T21:22:00.000-08:00

It's been an off few days - not in a horrid sense, just that I've been putting things off pseudo-irresponsibly. In getting lost in the days after the election (a wonderful, wonderful event in watching McCain and Palin relatively disappear from my TV screen), enjoying the weekend - pretty much drinking beer and getting together with family and friends - culminating with Bats Day at Disneyland yesterday (with pictures possibly to come), it was bound to happen - but I'm getting my act together, putting together a review for the Luke Mulholland Band (a very kickass young talent).

Steven had the opportunity of meeting the members of my family who mean the most - sister Jessica, brother-in-law Craig, nephew Matthew, father Michael, brother Joey. The whole experience really meant the world to me, and I'm not lying when I say that the most potent aphrodisiac is how well your significant other gets along with your family - especially when it's an event you never thought would take place due to prior attempts gone wrong. As a result, after two years of dating, my boyfriend got a taste of a rather voracious appetite unearthed from months past. Nothing says thank you quite like many concerted moments of [insert joyful noise here].

I'm leaving for New York this Friday from Burbank airport. I love taking off from there, getting a glimpse of Universal City while watching the lights on the hills alongside the 101 get smaller and smaller, and I await the captain's OK to start flipping through the TV channels. I did a load of shopping this evening after work - sweaters, shoes, toiletries, etc. All I have to secure is a sturdy piece of luggage, tote my cats on over to my folks' house, and work like hell on a take-home statistics exam. This is also the weekend that my sister, brother-in-law, and nephew move to Nebraska. I just don't want them to leave, but the potential of buying a house and raising a family out there is a lot more likely than it is in smoggy, congested Southern California. That's why I have to become filthy rich: so I can put a down payment on a house for all those that I love, so they'll never be forced to move - or ... well, there's this ivy-covered building on a street off of Highland, just north of Franklin, and since I was nineteen I've entertained a wonderful pipe dream that'll never come to fruition. Ah, this mind. It makes room to be a good writer.

All the more reason to get back to working on the CD review I hope to finish by 11pm.

2008-11-05T01:49:00.000-08:00

You guys? I am so happy. I can't sleep. I have to be up in three hours. Tomorrow's going to suck...

Wait, no it's not. Do you know why?

IT'S FRIGGIN' OBAMA DAY

And in honor of change, morale, and to remedy the vodka drunk tonight, I'll be getting a breakfast burrito to devour in my cubicle. To hell with the diet.

We like to eat

2008-11-03T23:10:00.000-08:00

Twelve days left

2008-11-02T22:01:00.000-08:00

You read correctly; twelve more days until I'm on a plane heading out to New York for a week and a half - so so excited. I supposed that my very less-than-thrilled mood has been a gift bestowed upon me by the universe, because I tend to look forward to things so much that once in the moment I tend to not find it at all as interesting as I'd imagined or experienced it to be before. Not just that, but the little day-to-day things that used to take the edge off do maybe a quarter of what they used to do, if that. I really feel that the hugest portion of my life has reduced my role to Glorified Distant Relative - except that I don't have money to remedy the situation, and I don't have time to care (in the corporate sense). "Take care of it your own damned self" is what is perched on my lips at all times, but at the penalty of a sans-severance scenario I wear my employee badge with only mild abhorrence. So to be soon allowed a week-and-a-half without time cards and Monday-thru-Friday frivolity is all I could ever want, at least before Christmas (when at that time I'll be wanting a day trip to the snow, and an external hard drive). The one thing I will look forward to while out in New York will be the spending of hours upon hours in museums, and dinner dates with my brother. Everything other than that will just be a bonus.

In other news, I'm pretty certain that my motherboard is shot. Perfect.

Unfabulous

2008-10-31T18:48:00.000-07:00

I have been feeling all shades of off lately. Tired and lacking enthusiasm, mostly. Losing steam. It's been a rather off year. Far from fabulous.

There have been some wonderful moments, of course - but with the switch of the seasons, routine, reflection, and all suchness, things tend to become. . . bland and dull, and uneventful, and aggravating on all sorts of levels. Stagnant. Comparatively humdrum.

It doesn't feel like it's Halloween - but damned I'd be if it stopped me from having a good time. It's the most wonderful time of the year.

Higher learning

2008-10-29T06:28:00.000-07:00

I love school. Be it history or English or humanities, it tends to offer something that can be taken with a person to shape or redefine the way they view the world or themselves. Even science and math, depending on the application and the professor, can provide that same sort of out within one's mind. I told my dad the other day that the reason why I think the religion I used to be involved with is so against higher education is because they're afraid that people might actually learn something. It came out a bit more harsh (if you will) than I intended, but he found it hilarious. I suppose that's how most religions work, but if you confine yourself to one way of learning, you're confining yourself to one way of thinking, and that's not really healthy.

In history class last night my feelings for voting were reaffirmed this year. Not sure if I've mentioned this before, but as a former Jehovah's Witness, we were not permitted to vote, because since the kingdom of God apparently is not of this world, then neither should "we". But as American citizens, in the past, the only people permitted to vote were those that owned property - because of property tax. In the view then and now, if you pay taxes, you should have a say in how they are spent. Now, many people today don't own property, but they do pay taxes. You pay taxes; I pay taxes, whether we like it or not. So I should be able to vote, as should anyone of any religion. Penalty of excommunication should be a non-issue - but there's fear for you.

I think that's it. We've learned and re-learned lots of things - such as why women would pin up their hair at a certain age (pinning up one's hair was a sign of physical maturity [aka menstruation] and gave men the hint that a woman could be courted, because "if you're old enough to bleed, you're old enough to breed"), as well as -- well, concerning the issue of race... pretty much if we or our family members/ancestors were in the west or along trade routes over the last 400 years, or any place where people intermingled sexually as it were - regardless of ethnicity - we all have some other race in us. It should be OBVIOUS that the color of our skin does not define who we are; our DNA does. You could be the palest shade of white and have African blood in you. I have Irish and Portuguese blood in me. It saddens me that people see only the black, the white, the brown, the yellow, the red, when the quality of the person should be held on esteem, or considered cautiously, etc. They - whoever 'they' was - weren't lying when they said "knowledge is power". Knowledge is power. Knowledge is friggin' hot. Knowledge makes you a life form and not merely something to look at. It's pretty much the only thing that we have that'll be ever-withstanding, so it'd be a shame to keep the blinders on any longer.

Okay. All done.

Happy hump day.

Weekend update

2008-10-26T18:45:00.000-07:00

It only started feeling like the Halloween season after roaming around through Target last night, looking for spare bicycle tubes for today's 60-mile ride - stopping by in the Halloween-y aisle to look for devil horns. It's been an interesting season, all right. I think with the pussy punches thrown by McCain's camp during the election race, and the various global financial corruption/issues and everything (and taking the angry calls as a result of my place-of-day-job's missteps), it's going to be a difficult holiday season. So difficult, especially for those who lost their jobs recently, or not so recently, or who have been looking for work for a longer time than expected. I still plan to enjoy as necessary, or warranted (I'm drawing up a Christmas list for prioritizing as we speak). I didn't celebrate holidays as a kid, but can thoroughly understand why as a 'grown-up': we all need a reason to throw a kick-ass party. From late October to two weeks after the Rose Parade in January, it's a relatively pleasant time. It's probably my favorite time of year.

And for the record: it's not that I don't like John McCain. He's a grandfather figure that I went without as a child due to time and unforeseen occurrence. He might be a great person to learn life lessons from or to listen to as he regales stories about his time in the army - I really mean it - but I don't think he should be our President. Even more so with Palin on the ticket. She's friggin' hot - but that doesn't mean there's much upstairs to benefit the nation. That and the Republican camp (in this election specifically) has been despicable in their role as Fucking Lynch Mob. There is no way in hell that I'm voting for "those ones" - and that's as political as I will get in print.

So yeah. We went on a 60-mile bicycle ride today (57.6 miles, if you want to be specific), from Pasadena to Long Beach. I am tired. For some reason this ride was a lot harder than others of the same length - I'm thinking because of the bike path in particular had a lot of these dips and raises in succession, and it was ah. . . too much. But I like being able to say that I cycled down to the Queen Mary from the foothills. We'll do it again - hell, we'll probably do it to Long Beach and back - but we'll work on it. Today was just enough.

I'll be featuring a strictly-photo post sometime soon.

I hope everyone had themselves a good weekend.

Competition

2008-10-22T09:03:00.000-07:00

Can't do without

chai tea bags, Post-It notes, Notepad docs, flip-flops,
lip gloss, video iPod, black sweater, eyeliner,
cell phone, the internet (unfortunately)
-----------

I'm on a slight diet due to my visit to New York in a little over three weeks. My intention is to splurge on sweaters and jeans, etc., since I haven't gone excessive-clothes-shopping for myself in about two years. I figure it'll be a good excuse since November weather is cooler there than in Los Angeles. Even though my body will be wrapped up, I want to look my best. So...

I didn't want to exercise this morning. But I have this sort of competition within myself against others, or no one, or myself, just so I can get through that hour - efficiently, moving with purpose. (By the way, it irks me so when people don't move with a purpose; what a waste of energy.) I've been doing so for the last almost-three weeks and I can fit into slacks from about two years ago. Which I'll be giving to the Good Will because they're no longer my style. I don't know how much more weight I can lose in three weeks, but I'm willing to find out once I get there.

Ah, vanity, however slight. Maybe it really is some sort of subtle-in-perversion competition, because I'm convinced that everyone not only wants to look good, but wants to look as good as - if not better - than her, or him, or him-that-looks-like-a-her, or Androgynous Annie.

I've been concerned with looks since I was about 14, when I became conscious of my hips. Control was hard to come by when, as a teen, life was freakishly Jehovah-centric. It's such a relief to be in a healthier place, physically and mentally - despite still wanting to be perfect (but don't we all?).

Hmm, how to bridge...

I'm going to see my nephew this evening. God, I love him. The power of Cute compels me.

Even keel

2008-10-19T22:04:00.000-07:00

I don't want to jinx myself, but I haven't been feeling as crappy as I had been earlier this year. I think it has to do with acceptance that things are never going to be perfect, and that I'm not always going to be happy. Like any other emotion, you can't always be mad, nor can you always be sad. If you're happy all the time, then you're lying to yourself. It's not possible if you're over the age of five.

I've decided to settle on contentment. Feeling okay. That is a constant I can deal with. There might not be enough money in the bank account until Friday. I might not be able to buy flowers on Sunday. No sugar for my oatmeal. No happy ending despite 20 minutes of effort. The bus, 15 minutes late. My toast, burned and black. Can't change it. Life isn't always going to be spectacular. Can only move on to the next moment, drama-free. I won't always feel this neutral, but I'm a long way from how I've been feeling the last five years. Probably the best I'll ever be.

The weekend went nicely. Didn't do much; just watched movies, toured my boyfriend's new neighborhood (very family-oriented, with plenty of schools, parks, and homes), went for a bicycle ride this afternoon, drank much much tequila with limes & tangelos, and got some writing done. Made it back in LA not much after 9:00 pm, with plenty of time to get some sleep before the workweek starts, and to study for an essay exam on Tuesday. So ideal, this middle ground. It's all I could want at this moment.

Verve

2008-10-17T22:52:00.000-07:00

I am wondering if there is something wrong with me, in that I'll leave my boyfriend downstairs watching August Rush so I can dork around on the internet - namely YouTube, so as to watch clips of the most disturbing scenes of the Saw movies.

I've no faith in frou frou.

I had quite possibly the best sushi in Los Angeles tonight, shared over a bottle of Kurosawa sake.

This weekend is already exceeding expectations.

(expect nothing; leave happy)

Ambiguous by nature

2008-10-15T22:49:00.000-07:00

If I could recommend having anything at your disposal as a writer it would be

(at all times)
a writing instrument
something to write on (post-its, if not receipt or business card)
cell phone
iPod (video or otherwise)
audio recorder

(when on assignment)
digital camera
comfortable shoes
a sweater

I'm not the best at anything, but in lieu of ginko biloba, the aforementioned help me to not misplace my mind, or a track on a setlist, or some quip that that beholds the potential of relevant interjection.

I coasted along today. Normalcy has been lacking due to the fires in the Valley, but I'm glad that the worst is over. The final Presidential debate has taken place. I am registered and all at once proud to be an American. This week I've been taking each day one by one, instead of bunching Mon.-Fri. into one long unsatisfying cock tease - and so far it has worked out to my psyche's advantage. I can also assume that having gotten five-plus hours of sleep each night has improved my reactions to others' idiosyncrasies. Tomorrow I've got to get up early to finish a review, work, school, and head home by 11pm. Another day in the life.

And as for the weekend - I have no idea what lies in store, but I hope very much that it doesn't involve any exposed nerves. This I will always work on.

Random

2008-10-12T09:37:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning, I went on what was expected to be a nice bicycle ride - length unknown - after not having been on my bicycle for a good two months. We ended up riding 51 miles - past ABC Studios, to Griffith Park, and back. This year I did a half-century ride to the city of Paramount and back (to Griffith Park). But I trained for that for a few weeks (I'd been riding my bike to work every day for a year, so it wasn't extensive). I was so friggin' proud of self yesterday - but man, oh man, that was unexpected. . . so much that I believe the most exercise I'll make myself do today is waltz on down to the farmers market before noon.

This might sound really horrible, but I've found in the last - I don't know, 23 years, that whether glossed-up or paparazzi-laden, Los Angeles really isn't anything special. Not that it isn't interesting and with a vast array of attitudes and things to do, but the portrayal of it isn't what it is, really. I'm sure everyone knows that. I hope most people do.

When people come here from out of town, I can understand being a little thrilled. But I kind of liken it to when I go to New York - so I haven't done the tours or the whatever out-of-towners are supposed to do, but I don't think I've ever really been that kind of person. I'd be happy touring the museums and parks and spice shops, or going into the basement of some foodie shop in Chinatown to peruse what dishware I can add to my collection of well-made stuff I don't need. I just would rather do that that feel like I must eat here, or must do that. That's what multiple trips are for. Yeah, I'm a brat.

Next month, I plan on touring mostly museums, since it'll be cold and I might not want to be outdoors so much. I also plan on trying different hot spots, hot foods, or being amongst hot bodies in wherever bodies tend to migrate in the fall. It's the plan; it might not be carried out exactly. But most blueprints require some alteration.

Four-and-a-half more weeks to go.

Atony

2008-10-09T20:49:00.000-07:00

I tried my hand at fasting today for Yom Kippur. My boyfriend's Jewish, and to be honest it's because of him that I'm aiming to observe holidays outside of my culture, because one of these days I'd like to consider myself a citizen of the world - more so than I do now - and relate to others outside of my non-traditional Christian upbringing. That said, I made it through with two cups of tea, broth, and water with electrolytes - 'cause I'm not converted yet. Or ever. I'm not to belong to one faith anymore. I'll elaborate on such things eventually, but for now, let's reflect.

I was staaarrrving this afternoon. Like, light-headed and blissfully delusional. I so wanted sushi. But stress, where was stress today? Not in the vicinity by any means. I might as well have been buzzed on [insert downer here].

But after a while I forgot about the physical and thought about the things I'm sorry for - like withholding food for vanity's sake. Holding onto what I can't change. Envying things, thinking ill against people. Jumping to conclusions. Shooing my cats away. Not calling when I say I will. Half-assing things. Disappearing. Among other things. At the end of the day I wanted to be a better person. Pretty much that's how I started the day, too. I told my boyfriend this in the evening while heading to statistics class. He said, "Yep, that's about how you should feel".

Success.

Man versus man

2008-10-07T17:08:00.000-07:00

Ah. It has been a while. What's been going on?

The state of our union, actually. In less than a month, it will [hopefully] be decided who out next President is. I'm really scared. Well, maybe nervous is more like it. In either case, there will be extreme emotion, whoever is elected. Extreme joy, or ever-dread. My friends and I are already planning a wake (for the death of our nation) should our hopeful not be elected. It will be a potluck. Consider this your invitation.

But if he wins (and of this I sincerely hope) - we're all going to Disneyland!!

Long day

2008-09-30T22:51:00.000-07:00

Indeed. With the debate last Friday, moving Steven into his new place this past weekend, work, school, brain-storming, and attempting to get as reasonable an amount of sleep as possible, it's just been one long unending day. it's felt this way pretty much for the past two weeks. I think I need a vacation. In about a month and a half, my request will have been met. I can be patient.

I called my folks this evening on the way home from class, to thank them for their support in the last few years, but especially during a time when things had gone particularly badly in my corner of the world. I was reading through some of my old LiveJournal entries circa winter 2004 and it was just ... a horrible place to have been in. Without saying much, I can sum up things by stating that I was left for dead, emotionally and [as a result] physically. But my parents helped me out - fed me, letting me sleep on their couch for a few weeks, and giving me reason to consider smiling again. I try to keep buried how I felt at the time, how skinny I was, and how it never seemed to stop raining. Sometimes it feels like it's still raining, but it's not pouring like it was. Dare I say, I've become more authentic, because as much as I don't say so I suppose I've plenty to be proud of as a functioning human being. I'm on my way to university; I'm managing funds; I'm gaining experience in writing, all thanks to those few weeks of intervention. Those things, including and because of family, are most important. So I thanked them for being there, when it was most needed, and always. I figured why not let them know. We're only given this moment; it's up to us what we do with it.

Huge sidepoint that was. In other news, while watching the "Morning Inspiration" show on BET Sunday morning, the preacher was telling the congregation how we must 'fight temptation, talk to the Lord so we can fight temptation'. . . but you know something; I haven't dealt with temptation of that sort since I stopped going to church a few years ago. Now maybe this is just me, but when I was a church-goer I would panic about falling into temptation; "get behind me, Satan", have mercy. Now, temptation to me is fighting the urge to have a piece of saltwater taffy before bed.

Ah, so. Life's going okay. Did I mention that I'm ready for a vacation?

Nomad

2008-09-24T00:33:00.001-07:00

12:30 am came so quickly.

It's been a good week so far. I kind of feel like I've been living out of a track and field bag since Sunday, and I think I know why. . . it's because I have been. This weekend I was helping my boyfriend get some things together for his big move this week (from San Clemente to La Verne). Last night, with the same bag, I headed to my folks' house to make pumpkin pies in celebration of the first day of autumn (you're here, darling; I've missed you so). Today, I still had the bag with me, having taken it to class, heading home with it at about 11:00 pm. And I can tell you this - tomorrow night I'll be taking it to my sister's in Agoura Hills for the evening; Thursday it will accompany me again to late-night schooling; and Friday afternoon I'll be taking it back down to San Clemente to get everything situated on Steven's end. Then I'll be back in Los Angeles on Sunday, trusty bag still in tow.

I like being everywhere, in a way. It's nice to be on the go. Tonight is one of two evenings that I'll be sleeping in my bed this week. But I wouldn't have it any other way, for now.

As you can probably see in the upper left-hand corner, I made a blog as a sort of archive for the Transit LA posts I wrote with Cityzine. Since transitioning over to BeatCrave.com has me focusing primarily on music (per my request), I thought it would be nice to keep some news and upcoming events in relation to transportation in Los Angeles. It was fun writing it, and I don't want to not, know what I'm sayin'? So feel free to check there every week or so, should the urge strike you.

Okay, I really don't know why I'm still up. . . I was going to treat myself to going to sleep at 11:30 pm for having gotten home from class earlier than expected. Guess my brain had other plans.

Paper faces on parade

2008-09-20T17:43:00.001-07:00

tingly green-mint showers
getting my smile back
securing the apartment
heading down the 5
over-sized sunglasses
thoughts about BeatCrave
clouds over the ocean
and avenida del mar
domestic understanding
pseudo-rejection
ohnotheydidnt
fuck yes, i did

Don't wake me

2008-09-20T09:12:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a good day. The afternoon was even better, although I can't help but feel that when I actually attempt to convey a wonder of mine with honesty that I've botched the evenflow of whatever, and ever; amen. I'm so critical of self. I've traded a lot of bad self-views and perceptions for good ones, but that one in particular I can't shake. When it comes to audible words, my body, my skin, and all-around type in relative comparison - eh - confidence wanes. But I have a feeling I'm far from the exception.

In an exercise involving years of acquired ambiguity, I'll just say that it's hard to not keep self from feeling something that you would love to dive head-first into, even if it would last just a moment. Not out of any respect to our society's view of the conventional relationship, by any means, but in relation to individuals and their views. My track history shows that I give more glory to people/places than should be given, so it's more than likely an indelible trait I won't get rid of in this lifetime. But at least i recognize that's all it is.

So, I slept in until 7:30 am.
I don't have to be anywhere until 11:30.

That - spells relief.

Good to go

2008-09-18T23:24:00.000-07:00

This week has been something else. Internal, external stuff. I've been busy with everything. But I've gotten so much done.

Last night, the night before, and I believe even the night before that, I was so tired that I must have drifted out of consciousness without falling asleep; it felt like I was drunk without a thing having passed my lips (except for Fresca). It's just been an off week, but it's almost over. I don't know if I've been more relieved.

Tomorrow afternoon I'm thinking of having lunch with my ex/good friend, who I don't refer to as an ex except when emphasizing that it's possible for one to be good friends with someone they used to have rampant sex with (there was a relationship somewhere in there, as well). What a shame and waste of invested time, to throw someone away because of a break-up, merely because of the world's trend in doing so. Last time I heard, break-ups aren't synonymous with death, so unless the other person was so misguided that they took on the role of asshole without realization, I don't have a verifiable reason to give someone up just because a dynamic has changed.

Not much to report other than I'm doing pretty well in school, and the writing is going well. And I'm welcoming sleep with open arms, like, right now. The rest of the weekend will be busy - my squid's last in San Clemente - but I'm looking forward to sleeping in on Saturday. Maybe we'll even get to sleep in Sunday. Oh God, just the thought of sleep is right up there with food and all other physical satiations. I never understood it until now - but I'm always saying that about something.

Happy place

2008-09-14T16:20:00.000-07:00

Friday night late-night corporate breakfast
Saturday housewarming party on the lawn
catching the Gold Line at Del Mar to Union Station, to Los Feliz
a few-hours-long spoken word/poetry reading on Vermont
red, red wine, the first time since Parsons in '06
veggie royale at Fred 62
cheesecake, "Barrack is Beautiful", "Rehab is for Quitters"
lights off, love on
one review down, three to go
brunch, with him and his best-laid plans
anticipating afternoon sleep

Bare necessities

2008-09-13T12:11:00.001-07:00

Last night found us driving through Beverly Hills on Wilshire towards the El Rey. I don't think I've consciously been through the city before, especially when driving next to a [rented] Rolls Royce. For how beautiful and rich it was (in the way of the green, not so much diversity), I found it strange how I felt so alien in a neighborhood that exists in my backyard. My boyfriend - a native New Yorker - and I - a native Angeleno - met at the middle of the same conversational bridge: that as much as Los Angeles boasts being big city, it really consists of little cities scattered about that don't really belong together. There's no real consistency. In New York, at least my experience has been that whether you're on Park Avenue, in the Village, Gramercy Park; or Union Square, Williamsburg, or any other borough in Brooklyn, you've the opportunity to feel connected to every mile of the city. Again, that's been my experience. I can get there. I can't really get to Beverly Hills or Santa Monica from my neck of the woods, and to be honest, outside of lunching with a friend, I don't know if I'd want to.

At least there's going to be some catching up in the way of public transportation in the city. The bigger the population is getting, it only makes sense. For every person to own a car and further congest the streets/damage the climate is a ridiculous notion. I'll attempt to base future transit posts on this in the weeks to come.

Anyway, we saw Brooke Fraser at the El Rey last night. She was something beautiful. I think I'll be getting her album (Albertine) off of iTunes. Do check her out.

We're going to a poetry event type deal at Skylight Books this evening (Milo Martin and the Utopian Nihilists), and were thinking that maybe, just maybe we could hit up Fred 62 afterwards. I mapped the locales. They're 213 feet away from each other.

It's a freakin' go!

Lazing on a Friday afternoon

2008-09-12T15:00:00.000-07:00

I enjoy getting Fridays off early from my day job. If it were any other day but today, I'd have nearly two hours left of playing corporate Mother, makeshift therapist, and all-sorts defuser to anyone who reached my extension. I was talking with my friend last night [for a longer time than realized] about how I need to have faith in myself to feel better about the things that stress me out. We both agreed that I need to learn how to relax. I know how to relax, but my horoscope from Free Will Astrology advised me of something somewhat interesting:

"Writing in the magazine sub-TERRAIN, John More makes the following declaration: "Captains of industry, great generals, artists of genius, even politicians, are often just people who have discovered that alcohol can enable them to make economic, tactical, creative, or political decisions whose implications would paralyze a sober individual." Your assignment, Capricorn, is to find an alcohol-free way to make such a decision. It's time for you to summon visionary courage from your soul, not from a bottle, as you catalyze complex blessings that will ripple through your future for a long time."

Good points, but blah blah blah. I don't drink a lot. A two-liter of Stoli lasts me a good two months. I think the sole reason I drink is to slow my mind the fuck down. I'm analyzing and wondering at every moment of the day: "Hmm, coffee stains on my desk"; "If I have chocolate pudding at 3pm, then I must say no to soy ice cream later on"; "Why did I buy this InTouch?"; "Must clean and exercise before Steven comes over"; "Must do some writing this weekend"; "Shit, I didn't clean out the cat box" - etc., et cetera, and so on. At the end of my day I've done everything that I can fit in - but somehow my brain won't shut up.

Therefore: music, white noise machine, television, or Stoli in moderation. I'm a lush with most things but downers.

So that's my brain, in a ~~braincase~~ nutshell. The same brain that is anticipating Halloweentime at Disneyland on September 26th. I am so excited. While walking from work to class yesterday afternoon I waltzed on by the to-be pumpkin patch, whose yellow leaves will soon lead to bright orange pumpkins before long. What would Linus do?

Reminds me: last year I watching It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown while at the Bob Hope Airport heading to New York. I'm due for another trip in two months; best purchase a ticket before time inches closer and prices inch higher. Autumn in New York - I don't think there's a better time.

It takes very little to please the hell out of me.

Vacate the premises

2008-09-09T23:19:00.000-07:00

My cat is giving my left leg a massage. I think she knows it's been a rough year on the corporate front. A lot of changes mean a lot of mental exercises. And goodness knows we all need a vacation, which is why I'll be spending a week in New York, mid-November.

My friend Duane is leaving for Bangkok this Saturday. This Saturday, for a week. I am so excited for him, but at the same time. . . I am so stinkin' jealous.

Red

2008-09-08T23:47:00.000-07:00

Day job, school, night job, social life, love life, family life. Those are the priorities. The three towards the end often switch order; actually, they can be easily jumbled into one ball of interaction and pseudo-joy. Those are the hardest to attend to at the moment. I miss my dad. And my mom. These days, I talk to them separately, on different phones - with him, his cell phone; with her, her business phone. It's like they're physically separated, but they're not. Only emotionally. That's worse, actually. But it has been thirty years.

My boyfriend and I talked last night. After two years of whatever we've been doing, I asked if he'd consider marrying me. If it was a possibility. Not that I want to get married now; I'm not ready. I'm to get my bachelor's degree before I do anything else. But I kind of needed to know - I likened it to taking on an entry-level job with the possibility of promotion, moving within the company. If that's not even a possibility, then you wouldn't stick around long. Enough to make some money and save. But not long enough to become attached, so you could move on to the next opportunity. It sucks if you love the location, or how your chair gives you the support it needs. But without the possibility, it would be better to move on.

So at least I was made more certain of the possibility.

So, social/love/family life. I can't wait for the moment where I'll have the time to take it all in and enjoy it, to friggin' breathe - or to at least feel that my eight-to-five is being put to good use along the terms of my perspective outside of obvious monetary dependancy. But I realized a long time ago that in order to fuel our own dreams, we might have to fuel someone else's for a while.

As the days go by, again I must mention - October is just around the corner. My absolute favorite time of year. Sweaters and pumpkins, pumpkin pie and colored leaves. Cool with the warm. Another autumn. Another year.

When September ends

2008-09-06T12:05:00.000-07:00

I am looking forward to October already. October is pretty much where every day is a holiday. I LOVE October. But September isn't bad so far. We are coming up swiftly upon autumn. The school year has started, meaning I'm to be a lot more busy than usual, but that's a good thing. The more busy, the more I'm moving forward and getting things done. The more I'm building my portfolio and getting experience.

I had my review at work. I've been in my current position for a year, with the company for two. I don't know how much of a raise I'll be getting, but any raise is a good one these days - any day. As long as there is school to pay for, any 'extra' money is a lifesaver until I win the Lottery.

My boyfriend and I buy Lottery tickets maybe once every two weeks. Just because the idea of winning is such a fun feeling, even if you don't win. Just imagining what you would do with all that cash is, well - it's enough to keep going. Not because of the Lottery, I mean. Because of your own hard work and the chance that you might be able to make that happen for yourself. That you can retire perhaps when you're 55. That you could buy that six-plex by the beach and have your friends rent it in the summer or winter. That gas wouldn't be an issue because you'd have a private helicopter or something ridiculous. It's just a pipe dream, but it's fun to think about. If I won, I would make school and writing my full-time job. I would 'work' because I 'wanted to', not because I had to. I'd get a few cosmetic touch-ups (wouldn't we all?). I'd buy a Birkin bag - after I'd freakin' save. I've gotten really great at that, and have built up good credit, too. I'd like to think I wouldn't go mad.

It's just a fun idea to toss around. Living in this capitalistic society, it's bound to happen.

So life's been good. I'm always looking for something better.

But the established goodness is working out fine for now.

A warm gun

2008-08-30T17:41:00.001-07:00

Steven is taking a nap. I was reading The Shining and am working on Monday's transit article (running out of ideas). He was watching a western, but I've since flipped it to I Love Lucy.

Last night, we had Mongolian BBQ in Pasadena, went to Disneyland, and played 20 Questions while waiting in line for Space Mountain.

This morning we had lox & cream cheese, and read the newspaper over breakfast.

I don't remember the exact date, but I remember that we met on the bridge of August and September, and he's the only one so far who hasn't thrown away my heart.

Our relationship is two years along.

(Happy Anniversary)

We're alive

2008-08-24T21:42:00.000-07:00

It's so interesting the things you can realize as time passes on. Years, months, weeks, days, minutes, seconds. Seriously. Time is a gift in that - should the beholder be open enough - it allows perspective and knowledge and understanding to kick in. It allows change to occur, people to grow up, hands to be thrown up and feet to keep walking in the opposite direction. It's a gift to be fully appreciated, or so it has been in the last few years. No matter how raw emotion can still be after dead and gone past situations, I am thankful for time. By way of experience (work, relationships, education, family), I have gotten better with time. People in my life bearing closed personages have come and gone. This generation, space, and time have allowed me to be and remain open, so I can only assume I will get even better.

This weekend has been fulfilling. With it being work-free, I was able to relax, to sleep off pervading moods, to hydrate, energize, and be for a while. The best part so far has to have been - not my friends simulating how to use the exercise ball in our living room for better gravitational positioning, if you know what I mean, but - finally getting my nephew's occular attention, as he loves to take in everything visually. This evening he stared at me with his deep, dark brown eyes, wide and clear, expecting more funny faces and wriggling of my eyebrows. He smiled at me. Totally and fully.

His reaction has attributed to one of the best feelings in my world so far.

Bedroom banter

2008-08-23T09:51:00.000-07:00

"Whatcha doin'?"
"Nothin'." [pause] "Are you naked?"
"No, I'm wearing boxers."
"Oh, okay." [pause] "You smell nice."
"Thanks."

Support

2008-08-22T15:17:00.000-07:00

My brother[ and CO.]'s website is outstanding. Do yourself a service and check it out.

This weekend I don't have to be concerned with much in relation to writing, since the site is expanding and I just buckled down and got Friday's and Monday's posts in by last night. I love writing, don't get me wrong. It makes the nine-to-five bullshit obsolete and therefore life is rich. In fact I'll again be listening to Citizen Savant's EP and will be jotting some descriptive phrases tomorrow when I get home from the dentist, but being done with the scheduled bits is a good feeling. Everyone needs a weekend off.

I arranged to have next Thursday off from work. I'm so happy about that.

Friday will be a half-day, and during that long weekend, my undefined boyfriend and I will be together in celebration of our two-year anniversary. I think we'll stay in bed and watch television.

broken heartstrings

2008-08-19T21:46:00.000-07:00

i want that life in the hills. the feeling that everything is a-ok. that there's silence and calm in the house. that there's love. i want to see the sun set from above franklin. i want to feel the cool of dark wood-paneled floors beneath the soles of my feet. i want to feel safe. i want to breathe and sigh, and feel alive.

that is for sure a creepy feeling. i felt it roll down to the tips of my toes.

maybe i'd better let up a little bit.

Musings

2008-08-18T19:20:00.000-07:00

Tonight means leftover Chinese food, Fresca, and Stoli. Summer vacation is still upon us in the Valley, and I am thrilled. I'm currently on the waiting list for a statistics and history class this fall, and hopefully will get into an online political science class, which - when completed - will mean onward to university in the spring! I have worked so hard . . . I haven't realized how much until now. I won't realize just how hard I've worked until I get my bachelor's degree.

This weekend was unexpected. It has been such a questionable few weeks, where I've just wanted to stay in bed and not go anywhere. The overcast mornings just begged me to sleep in, to stay inside and write, but the way my funds have been stretched, I can't afford giving in to anything but punching the time clock. I suppose all emotional somersaults have been worth it because this weekend was what my ailing mood needed. Enough reality to jolt my senses, but enough good times to help me see that life with all its pushes, pulls, and fuckery is pretty damned good the way it is.

There was plenty of riding on the motorcycle with my undeclared boyfriend. When we were zooming down the 405 past the Getty Center Friday night, there was this eerie sort of fog that filled the space between the mountains, and the moon was pale and shining. I was so exhausted; I felt like I was drunk. Thankfully, I didn't fall off (I'll never intend to), but it was nice to be out there. It was nice to see Kevin, looking gorgeous. And it was nice to have the EP to listen to (and prep for review), and even better? It was awesome peeling off my jeans to fall into bed.

Saturday's party was in an area I'd been before a while ago, with someone I've been missing a lot, thinking about a lot, somewhat craving a lot. It's funny how time and space does that. An evil tease it is, the cruel reality that such a blissful existence is no more. But now it's filled by people and situations that wouldn't have existed if I didn't grow a hell of a lot. So. The party. Fabulous. Thrown by Kev and his lover in a cute little space that lets in a lot of light. Cute little yard. Thanks to raised endorphins and a couple of beers I was able to let go and be Lindsey for a while. It felt so good, and hell was it ever a trip to run into a somebody I'd watched for years as a kid witness of Jehovah growing up. I had the hugest crush on him as a youngster, but I wanted a piece of everyone then. Particularly the wide-eyed, perfect-coiffed boy with an in-between build that suggested a soft hasrhness that could only attract a to-be fag hag (aka me). It was fun, though. It's interesting to see where life takes you and those you know, if you let time work and you don't rule out any possibilities. So. As the would-be harvest moon started to rise and the torches burned on, we went home. I worked. Then we slept.

And then I woke up, torn as to whether I should do the elliptical trainer, or ride the bicycle, or go for a walk. I walked a good five miles, by the busway, through the park, by the lake, and to the farmers market. Plums, white peaches, yellow nectarines for $2 a pound. "Apriums" (bespeckled plum/apricot hybrids) for free, for being inquisitive. Reddened sunflowers for N's birthday. A quick shower in lemon-infused suds, and lunch lunch LUNCH at Greenblatt's. Love. An intense feeling-up, making-out, to-the-brink session with Hollywood. Then back home, for a nap in a pool of sun shining through red shades, drawn.

Writing. Dinner. Loving past midnight. Waking up at 5:00 to his arms around me. Listening to him shower as I drifted in and out of consciousness. This morning he stood above me in his dress shirt, and for a moment I pictured pulling him down by the tie and back into bed with me, but I had to get up to go to work. He left. I worked. I'm home.

And I'm drinking my Fresca.

I'm the virus

2008-08-15T11:30:00.001-07:00

So apparently the cure for a hangover involves more than coffee and water. Today's cure involved

dark-tinted rose-colored sunglasses
not listening to the iPod during the morning commute
a breakfast burrito (hashbrowns, eggs tomatoes, sour cream, etc.)
a liter of water
and leaning far, far back in the office chair with my slip-ons off

I drank that liter this morning and have yet to use the facilities. My liver must want out, but I'm feeling worlds better than when I woke up this morning. Now I can go back to being torn between seeing Pineapple Express or going to the grocery store after I escape from work at 1:00 pm.

Thank Buddha the weekend is almost here. We'll be seeing Citizen Savant at The Mint tonight. I wish that Fred 62 was on the way. Perhaps with a little prodding, I can make it so. . .

Socks knocked off

2008-08-14T23:48:00.000-07:00

Being quoted at part of the media is probably one of the craziest feelings in the world.

International Dance Academy Hollywood's MySpace

That's totally what I get for dorking around close to midnight on a Thursday, because I can't sleep and I'm finishing up a post for Friday.

It's only been three months, though. A very generous start. I hope to be writing (and to keep improving) until there are no more BIC pens left.

(happy dance)

Preoccupied

2008-08-12T08:58:00.000-07:00

I usually check my work messages every morning, but I guess I haven't checked my cell messages in a while, which is probably why there were sixteen messages waiting for me to listen to. Sixteen. I hate voicemail, really. And I've not been wanting to take calls, but it's probably best that I learn to like it.

My mood has been pinched. I've been feeling bleh about things like karma, other people, and the future. I suppose everyone feels that way. I've got more important things to think about, like writing, keeping in contact with people, networking, or re-filling my birth control for the year. . . which I might want to do today, actually.

Summertime isn't a particularly pleasurable time for me, unless parts of it are spent by the shore. On the other hand, summertime means that autumn is approaching, autumn always being absolute heaven. Three months of splendor. I saw ads posted for the Halloween Fright Fair that my college has every year - hella expensive, but the pumpkin patch and corn field is nice to ride by on the bicycle. Being in New York last year for the Halloween parade was a scream, the air and the color, and innumerable jack o'lanterns on stoops and in windows was so damned nice. I feel alive when the prospect of dead things scampering around presents itself each year. That's the kind of childish fantasy I can contend with.

So looking forward to that makes things okay for now. It's still summertime, but I think we're all anticipating the autumn nights, a harvest moon; an 11:30pm viewing of The Nightmare Before Christmas on Hollywood Blvd. . . baking pumpkin pies all season. Orange candles, candy corn, and a flight to New York in November.

Summertime can totally take a flying leap off of my calendar.

Morning

2008-08-10T10:58:00.000-07:00

I walked out onto the balcony at about 8:30, looked to my left, and saw the ocean. Bright blue beneath the sky. Temperature was perfect.

I will be out from under this roof in a bit.

I am not to ever get tired of the Pacific, under penalty of disenchantment.

No kidding

2008-08-07T12:40:00.000-07:00

On the bus ride in to work I found myself looking forward to the weekend. Tomorrow at a little after 5:00 pm, I'll be south-bound on a Pacific Surfliner to spend said weekend with my boyfriend, who will soon be moving from the shore to the foothills to be closer to work. Until then, waking up to a misty marine layer on Saturday and Sunday mornings is more than enough prize to behold at the end of the week.

We all need a little something. Daily somethings, for instance: sunlight picking up the green in a new leaf; the sound of nothing; a hot shower; an apropos text message. Good sushi for lunch, mango milk chews after 2:00 pm, green tea boba on the weekends. Et cetera.

The best things in life are free, yes. I truly believe there are plenty of delights that money can't buy. Still, it won't kill me to have a twenty in the event that I'm wrong.

Those summer nights

2008-08-06T21:44:00.000-07:00

Today: not all the coffee in the world was able to cut through the fact I was not to think my own thoughts for eight hours (other than "Oh God, please make it stop"), at all.

This evening: I had made advance plans to have the rear wheel of my road bike repaired by my younger brother and his fixie friend , but my mood was in a sucky place. Nothing sounded better than ordering in orange chicken & steamed rice, and catching up on Swingtown. When I got home, though, I readied self for company -and as a result, the rear wheel is fixed. As payment I took brother and friend out to dinner and gave them bus fare for the ride home, despite personal, predicted bi-monthly dwindling of funds.

Having my bicycle fixed is the best thing to have happened lately, as riding it every day tends to be as beneficial to my mood as sex. With both now functioning and operational, the rest of the day doesn't really stand a chance.

Introduction?

2008-08-05T23:51:00.000-07:00

Hi, my name is Lindsey. I've been blogging on and off for about six years, via this module, and most recently MySpace.

I am currently writing somewhat regularly for the public, which is what I've been encouraged to do for a long time. I'm still honing my talent, but I'm at least knowledgable of that talent - and you know what they say about knowledge and power. It's a great feeling to have my writing skimmed over, if not yet read in full.

So, upon realization of said supposed talent, I figured that I might want to start using upper-cased letters. I love lower-cased letters, though. Lower-cased is more casual and allows room for more interpretation, but I can understand how it can make one think that the author is lesser than their years. So here we are trying something a little bit different.

Life as of late is as follows: I work and go to school full-time, which takes up most of my time and energy. I am a sister, an aunt, a lover, and a friend. 2008 has been an okay year so far. I have met interesting people, and at the same time have cultivated and maintained rich friendships. I spend my free time daydreaming or thinking of things to write. I prefer to have some sort of napkin or Post-It in my purse at all times. I prefer a thesaurus to a dictionary. I love words; because of this, I have a burning desire to travel to each of our earth's continents, to smell its air, delve in the cultures, to fall in love with some city I'll never want to leave. I'm sure it will make an interesting screenplay.

If in dire need of something to read, please head to this blog, or back from whence you came. Rest assured that there's enough meat laid out for the vultures to pick at. After which, please allow enough time to pass, to allow room for more verbage, and for my digital camera to arrive - after which I truly believe that things will flourish more seamlessly with the aid of much color.