The Great Escape

This past holiday got me not only shopping and thinking about the
things in life that I'm thankful for, but about the holiday.
Ushered in were new desires to get away and take a vacation - without
family and friends. Is this normal? I wonder. Family and friends
can be the premier sources of stress for adults, I reason with myself.
Where is all this coming from, anyway? Maybe what I'm truly wanting
is not to get away from the people in my life, but solely to get outta
town. L.A. Can get quite depressing, and all the networking and
industry competition and self-inflicted pressure can get stifling
under the smog-ridden air, and behind the superficial backdrop, and trendy
whims of Hollywood.

Can't we re-introduce those ideals of a simpler time? The days of skee
ball and old school Nintendo? From a world where there was no $4
cupcake and cell phones didn't ring at every step of the meeting up
process?

--


You know?

I Hate You With the Heat of 1000 Suns

Angelenos suffer from chronic dissatisfaction. Taking a cue from Woody Allen's Maria Elena, it's a phrase that struck a chord. Not just American, but Angeleno.

You are, in fact, an Angeleno. It doesn't matter if your election ballot, your ID, and your license plate are all out-of-state. If you know not to take the 101 to the 405 freeway, you've had multiple convos about how people from this town are "so flaky," or you've joined the Crackberrying set, you're an Angeleno. Don't kid yourself.

Yes, I'm feeling a bit sick of all the clichés. Maybe this feeling is all in the timing - the realization that another year has yet again floated on by. That, coupled with holiday stress, the auditing of those two worlds: one, in which you're a fiercely independent, rising star, making your way through the crowd. In another, you're the kid that everyone's waiting to have return 'home' to their family and stop that Hollywood career nonsense and hurry up and get married and settle down already. The one that everyone's waiting for to move back East to go to grad school. God knows your parents won't stop telling you anytime soon.

If you're not griping about how expensive it is to live on your own, you're ragging on how your roommates are the devil's spawn in the history of apartment living. Sure, people are shallow and traffic is merciless, but it's the city of celebrities, of all those fancy shmancy Hollywood spots that we've all come to avoid after being highlighted on The Hills.

As I blog this particular entry, I am slammed back into the all-too-familiar set of college roommate factions which engage upon the events preceding war.

What the fuck. I'm getting too old for this.

COTW
Spotted: Cute French guy that runs a cafe on Magnolia. As I perused the pastries he mentioned that he "makes everything fresh." A man with a silky accent. Whom also bakes. I'm sold.

Hibernating.

My weekend bristling with activity came to a halt when the onset of fatigue and exhaustion set in on Sunday afternoon. I was struggling to keep my eyes open. Decided to hightail it back to my place for a quick one-hour nap and then head back out - still had a concert to enjoy, and a party to attend. I then woke up, thirteen hours later, having slept threw a few phone calls and my alarm.

But what people don't know is, though it happens occasionally, it's kind of normal in my family. A few select relatives of mine are known to hibernate periodically. Conking out for 10, 12, 14 hours is the norm. Having a twenty degree temperature difference between the air in your room and the toasty cocoon of your comforter doesn't facilitate getting up in the morning.

Something carried over from the weekend. Even after the psycho-nap from Sunday, on Monday I found myself crawling into bed right after work, literally feeling myself physically melt into my bed - who knew this thing was sooo comfortable? Deliciously comfortable. I literally sighed with comfort.

Reminder to self: DO NOT toss remainder of a chicken soft taco in your trash can under your desk. Even if you ate most of it. There will still be olfactory pungency. I suppose when you're in a rush you don't end up making the most sound decisions. Painful regret.

I want to see Spring Awakening. Front row. Basically anything in the front row other than a comedy club.

There's a polyp growing on my eye. Okay, I cleaned it off. Wondering how commonly that happens.

I think somebody responding to my blog was just hitting on me. Blog-flirting. Well, that's new. Not the same as facebook wall-flirting.

It's almost Wednesday (and with the holiday) - make that this week's Friday. What I really want to do is escape - get away from it all...hmm. Delicioso food for thought.

Pre-Holiday Rut

I woke up for the nth time this week after falling asleep with my glasses on and the lights still on. As a result, my seven year old glasses are bent and now hang crookedly on my face. Hanging crookedly as I peer out from behind them, typing this blog and listening to classical music, trying to ignore the droning sound of my roommate taking a freaking twenty-five minute shower. Gotta find new glasses for that updated prescription...

Do you ever subconsciously make sabotaging moves toward your friendships? Don't answer that. I suppose that's what vacations taken solamente are for, should I be one of the lucky ones to afford it in the future. How to Alienate Everyone You Know. Ask this chick.

I've been getting a bit more relaxed with every day that I've lived in the Southland - but not to say that it's been a struggle. Well, not that I'm trying to adapt. Just trying to grow up and live while keeping the bigger picture in mind. In brief, just to chillax a bit more and not worry so much about those other things life keeps throwing at you. It's wasted time, worrying. Time and energy and life.

I wonder if I can fit in a pedicure this week. Those twenty minutes of pure relaxation, eyes closed, warm water-soaked feet, and, most importantly, massaging spa chairs that vibrate, roll, and send surging waves of relief to the knots that riddle my shoulders and all the way down my back. Okay, so it has been awhile since my last one.

So I take this day, to bite my tongue. I suppose I wouldn't be a writer unless I had something to say. Maybe best to save even more from the verbal expression and save it for the written.

Your family - well, the usual drill - they - i.e. your parents - don't need to know everything. And what they don't know - sometimes they just don't need to know.

Yup. Gonna go with that.

Maybe it's time for that solo vacation, however small a scale. Just take off for a couple days. Now there's some rich food for thought. Think of the possibilities.

I'm salivating already.

The Italian Job.

I kind of want a cookie. A really big, double-chocolate cookie. As I say this, I have just put away one crisp Fuji apple. But I'm still thinking about the cookie. Shedding the holiday weight from '07 is not going to be quite as effortless as I'd imagined. Especially during the pending holiday season of '08. Why aren't there any holiday treats, like steamed broccoli? Nope - pies and tarts and cupcakes and hot chocolate. Yum. Anything with dark chocolate - always a hit, really.

The Italian Job.
Some movies are even better the fourth or fifth time around.
Great casting - was watching The Italian Job again one evening. Scott Adsit ('Pete' from '30 Rock') played the actor in the car that Handsome Rob was stuck behind in traffic. Oscar Nunez ('Oscar' on 'The Office')was the security guard in the gated neighborhood that Steve (Edward Norton) was living in. How pleasantly surprising. Good job, Sheila Jaffe.

With Thanksgiving bringing in the slew of holidays next week, will reexamine life priorities and regroup for a bit of refreshment.

Also - in gastronomy...
I am a culinary genius. Throwing together a snack before salsa class, I toasted some slices of rustique bread and added some grilled veggies along with sundried tomatoes, swiss cheese, and smoked turkey. Who knew? Mini smoked turkey sandwiches with grilled veggies and sundried tomatoes? Delicioso, amigos, delicioso. You too, can be a connoisseur of the palate. Stop by your neighborhood Trader Joe's for more information.

Addiction, Three-Day Weekends, and Equilibrium

I should quit coffee cold turkey. I have traded the kiddie cartons of milk for mocha lattes. My sixth grade math teacher with the horrible coffee breath would be so proud. I have had two coffee drinks today to keep me going, a bowl of pasta for lunch (yes, the white flour kind). So...refined white flour, caffeine, and sugar.
My addiction has materialized so tomorrow, November 13th, I will go on without a cup o' joe.
Vamos a ver.

Three-Day Weekends.
Glorious. Truly and incredibly, glorious. I've forgotten what holidays feel like - what a day off feels like. It's nice to be reminded.
America, we need more holidays - sure, we're a younger country than others, but we have plenty to celebrate - let's throw in a few Festival Days, Bank Holidays, Let's Not Think About The Economy Day or National Day of Chillaxation?
But until then, will have to return to the task at hand...finding quick little great escapes from L.A. ...

Equilibrium
I feel like the Heroes story composition - I've traded one set of problems for a new one. Breaking even, 'a la Jerry in that one Seinfeld episode where he lost twenty bucks that Elaine threw out the window of his apartment building and then he found a twenty spot in his coat pocket.
i.e. the apartment and roommate living situation, the family bugging me to being surprisingly harmonious, the overcharged initiative sparking friend to the apathetic exhausted one.

BTW, Heroes is getting a critical beat-ing if you haven't noticed. We all know the numbers are down, but what are the writers thinking? Not from a media standpoint, but as a fan - the show's focus feels shattered, storylines convoluted, and characters, well, just plain acting out of character. Heroes, you're our breakout friend we met that was a hit at that party, a couple of parties, and all of a sudden, we have no idea who you are trying to be anymore, since, you have no idea who you are anymore. Take the tried-and-true advice to the core: just be yourself.

14 days until Thanksgiving weekend...

Someone's Neighbors

Meet someone's neighbor, let's call him Fred.
He's in his late 40s, got grey hair and a darker grey goatee-mustache-ish hair which comes to a point on his chin. Channels the wizard look, or sorcerer, or Dumbledore. Or more strongly reminds you of those wizards you see in photos that are on packages of wizard Halloween costumes. Fred rocks tattoos aplenty, and rides his hog when he's not yelling at his yapping dog to be quiet. He lives in the apartment downstairs from you.

Slightly awkward in terms of communication skills, he has darting eyes and usually dons a t-shirt and cargo shorts; you see him frequently around at home or with his hulking friend Biff, working out in the makeshift gym in the shared garage. It has quite a medley of workout equipment, surprisingly, in such a rusty looking space.
He has a girlfriend, let's call her Nicole. She's probably in her early 40s but you rarely see her around.
Sometimes you'll hear them talking, but very rarely. But there's always individual yelling at the dog to quiet down.

Post-Halloween Slug, Search for the Great Escapes

It feels like it's been awhile, so I don't expect too warm a reception from my three readers of this blog, things have been busy, sugar-laden, and rather unfocused, as may have been apparent in recent postings (and still lingering herein).

I did manage one for the successfully achieved nightlife books. I managed to make it to a friend's Halloween party, without a hitch. i.e. I didn't fall asleep after I got home, changed and showed up in costume, didn't leave after 20 minutes. Instead, ran into a bunch of familiar faces, and, indeed, had fun. Score one point for the candy monster.
Now just recovering from the weekend of costume partying, concert-going, and movie-watching...
It has also come to my attention in a violently traumatic experience that a certain pair of jeans no longer fit me. Let the workouts of need-to-drop-a-few-before-I-fly-back-East-and-see-family-for-the-holidays begin.

The Search for the Great Escapes of Los Angeles has begun...and so begins my favorite places in L.A. that are, essentially and ironically, the spaces that serve to help me get away from the city. I could begin my list here, but then, that's how best-kept secrets never keep their status...

It's already underway. Trust me on this one

Words, phrases and general social behaviors that should not be used. It's verbal pollution, y'all.

crapper. i.e. The economy is in the crapper.
What a coarse word for a coarsely described thought.

that's why. No, that's not a complete thought. I'm soooo sick of hearing this one. Just say 'yeah'. This has become the new 'like' of today's vernacular. Ne-yo and I are both sooo sick of it.

I love footage of people celebrating. So exciting. Euphoria is contagious. The commotion of people all smiles, jumping up and down, dancing, screaming out of excitement and positively-charged emotions. Who would have imagined ten years ago that Obama would be our nation's next President?

New day. Brand new.