Observations. Refreshment. Simple Things.

Not all who wander are lost. - Remember this one? Simple truths that are poignant are the ones that stick with me.

Here are some observations I have been reminded of recently:

Not all cute boys are funny.

Not all of LA is friendly.

Not all of work is drudge.


Refreshment.

I think these goals/resolution-type-activities/fun-things-I've-never-done-but-always-wanted-to of late stem from an ever increasing realization that life is short, and to take a step out of my comfort zone and outside the Cave of Same Ol' Droll. Sometimes you need to try new things. Rediscover that sense of adventure. Stop looking around you for some amusement and reach into your own bag of tricks.

It is because of this that my entire body is sore right now. Small price to pay for some much-needed rejuvenation.

Simple Things.
Life is always busy - it never stops for you - people keep on working, living. Living in the biz, and the greater LA landscape, for that matter, people are all clamoring to become successful and make a name for themselves. Who wouldn't want that? That doesn't make you unique. That's equivalent to saying 'I like nice things' makes you one of a kind.

Everybody wants something - and oftentimes they want something from you. I really appreciate those little things that seem to become more of a rarity - when someone is simply there to listen instead of just waiting to talk, offers some words of advice and a laugh. How unbelievably refreshing.

The Smell of Possibilities.

I love fall. It is my favorite season. The long, hot days have now changed their minds and shifted over to the cooler nights that prelude the approach of autumn. You can smell it in the air; leaves turn gold and rays of sunlight become a honey glow of orange; a fresh start, a new beginning, the smell of possibility is undeniable. Even television comes back with new episodes around this time Coincidence? A-hem, negativo. It's a new season, shrink-wrapped and fresh and ready for uncharted territories.

I changed my hair. Went to my stylist Helen for a much-needed spring in my step. (Now I refuse to go to anyone else.) I wonder what you'd call the equivalent of that in the styling world. A bounce to my mane? A vibrance to my tresses? We need to coin some new phrases, us Americans. The most recent one that comes to mine is GTL. Sad, people Sad!

Change of Plans
In other news - a change in plans - my landlord let me know that I won't have to move in October and that the sale of his place will likely not be completed until December. Also he lowered the rent ;) for the remainder of my tenancy. Thanks, Universe! Wondering now what else I should ask for. My landlords have never lowered the rent. Not in the ten years of my renting career.

Am now thinking of more spontaneous things. Where to live next...?

Chopin
Went to a Chopin concert last night instead of watching the Emmys. Am very happy with my decision. Was surprised that it was a packed house - I was surrounded mainly by thick glasses and gray hairs. Embarrassingly realized that I was fighting sleep about halfway through. Then I figured that most of the audience was fighting much harder than I was. The lights are turned down quite low during performances. I wonder what the composer was thinking when he was writing music. In fact, I wonder what all composers were thinking and feeling when they were making music. I have my theories. And sometimes, just sometimes, I dream - of sleep. Oh, irony.

I need more photos and images for this here blog. Didn't want to mooch off the stock images which are found all the heck over. So, am trying to at least use my own photos and such. Some attempt at personalization. So anyway, here's a Rorschach blot. Part of Andy Warhol's works at the LACMA.

What do you see? The possibilities.

Or that one-sheet from that Ashton Kutcher movie that nobody really remembers. Just that the one-sheet was a Rorschach blot.

The Status of Things

Still waiting for my passport. Itching to gallivant now that I don't have it.

I have now tried kickboxing. Check. Let's see, so for this year I've checked off - surfing, cirque du soleil , tango.

Still kinda want that Marc Jacobs purse.

OACUN [on-a-completely-unrelated-note]
Loved this line.

"Why don't you let the women and children - and men - go." - Shawn Spencer while in a hostage situation, Psych, "Ferry Tale."

You Can't Always Live Life By The Numbers.

Los Angeles, like much of America, like much of the developed world, prides itself on success  That's probably why America, unlike other parts of the world, is a land of workaholics.

I regret not going to my friend's wedding.

RIU Ocho Rios resort, where my friend held his wedding.

It was 2006, I had spent the money on the nonrefundable airfare to Jamaica to his very beautiful location wedding. The last thing to do then, was pay for the hotel for the week. It would have been a time to witness an important event in my friend's life: his wedding day. It also would have been my first time in Jamaica, and, for many wedding guests, it doubled as a vacation. I really wanted to go - it was one of my best friends from my years in college while studying abroad, a vibrant and lovely gentleman with a solid sense of humor tied in with a tight set of street smarts.  He became a dear friend as well as an excellent traveling buddy (you know how hard it is to find a friend who doesn't get on your nerves when you're together 24/7 through foreign lands?)
[Image: http://www.riu.com/en-us/Paises/jamaica/ocho-rios/index.jsp]

I just didn't have the money. I had recently gotten hired for my first full-time job, barely enough to make the rent, and was racking up the credit card bills. The only option I had was to add the hefty charge to one of my credit cards, and keep wondering when I was going to be able to pay it all back. It would be completely irresponsible for me to charge the trip on my card when I really couldn't afford to. I declined his wedding invitation.

Fast forward to the present, 2010. I have paid off all of my credit card debt, and I now pay every single bill I have in full each month. No interest accumulates. I only purchase things and rent apartments that I can afford.

I haven't seen my friend - the one whom had gotten married in Jamaica - in six years.

I found this one article particularly insightful [MSN Money] :
"If we all lived life 'by the numbers,' we would never take vacations or sabbaticals, would never have kids, and we would never do anything unnecessary that costs money."

Nostalgia
My friend and I went to play some tennis after work. We both played on our teams during our high school years - different high schools, different states. But it gets us thinking about childhood, and adolescence, and honestly, where have all the years gone? We are not in college, far from high school, and though those years feel fresh in our hearts they are no longer who we are and the responsibilities we continue to uphold have molded us into different people - adults.

What's the sad part? Well - perhaps that all of that is behind us. The tennis team practices after school, the classes, the prom, the life and much more carefree life that we once had - that everyone once had. That means there is that much less ahead of us. Not to be too much of a downer.

Like a movie you're watching in the theater - there is this excited anticipation, during the opening scene, the rise of the title card, the initial voice-over lines heard by the audience. The adventure is only beginning.

In Battle
There's desperation out there. I can feel it. The economy, the job market, the inevitability of aging. And having been in the job market and the interview hot seat these past several years after college, there's always that pressure to wrestle your way in; set yourself apart from the crowd, get your resume in with a trusted sourced rather than flood in with the masses over the transom.

Ah, the rat race, ladies and gentlemen, the rat. Race.

The responsibility rock within me, has grown with time, just as I'd imagine it has done with my peers.  Getting good grades and treating people well and working hard has expanded over the years to include paying bills on time, getting home early, and picking out a healthy meal for myself.

But the battle is there. Responsible vs. Irresponsible. Predictable vs. Romantic.  I think you either see it as: Life is too long or life is too short.

Generation Gap
I've given this a bit of thought, after recent conversations with my mother. And it never hit me that my dreams were drastically different from my mother's dreams. And collectively, generationally speaking, our dreams stand in gaping disparity from those of our parents. Our dreams were not even fathomed by them. I had agonizingly debated about attending my friend's wedding in Jamaica and irresponsibly dumped the glaring charge on my credit card. My parents grew up in a time when there weren't four pieces of plastic in their wallet that they could use to earn frequent flyer miles; they grew up in a rural town in East Asia where the rich kids in school were recognized by the hard-boiled eggs in their lunch boxes.

My friend sent me this very interesting article about these splendid and tumultuous twentysomething years [What Is It About 20-Somethings?]. It discusses the many changes and aspects of our rapidly evolving lifestyle, the differences quite prominently drawn across a single generation gap.

It is reassuring to be financially independent and responsible, and not constantly be wondering if I can afford to go out for dinner with friends.  Still, I hate how money is so damn important to everybody.  The things we could do if we didn't have bills to pay...  Lately I feel that the older you get, the more intensely that belligerent war of security is embattled; it rocks the very core of your sense of responsibility.  You wake up one day and realize internally that the slight uneasiness you felt about some minor detail in your life has sparked an all-out battle royal.  [Brace for impact, people!  Brace. For. Impact!]  Maybe you only remember there's something in there when you shake it and hear it rattle.

Life is long vs. Life is short. Which camp are you in?

This Just In: My Mother Is More Spontaneous Than Me.

My mother has called me every day for the past three days.

When we finally connect, she tells me all about her spontaneous day in nyc, walking around with her friend (my best friend's mom, coincidentally), and getting lost and going to restaurants. Completely impromptu and only decided the morning of a certain Saturday. I think she wanted to brag this piece of news to me, hence the daily calls.

My mother's friend calls her up. This is their conversation. Or, at least, how I'd imagine it would've gone.

My Mother's Friend: So, you doing anything?
My Mother: Right now? No.
MMF: Where are you?
MM: At home. Wait - you called me.
MMF: Yeah. What are your plans for today?
MM: Oh. No plans. I'm not working today - the first time in a long time.
MMF: I'm going to go to New York to visit my son and hang out. Well, more just to hang out. Maybe catch a show.
MM: I don't know. How are we going to get there?
MMF: Meet me at ten o'clock. I'll drive us to Jersey and we can take the train from there.
MM: Do you know your way around there?
MMF: Yeah. I been there.
MM: Oh. Okay, then. Let's go.

Cut back to: me talking to my mother on the phone.

My Mother: So we hung out, we went to Broadway, but all the tickets were sold out or the shows were too late, except for Blue Man Group, so we went to Blue Man Group.
Me: Oh. Did you like it?
My Mother: Yeah. Was fun.
Me: Thank God you have friends. Otherwise you'd never get out of the house.

What I Did On My Day Off.

Started the day off with sleeping in and putting on a pot of coffee.
I don't believe in sitting down to work hungry. Or thirsty. This is my writing smoothie. You know. Like a study cookie - same concept. Today, after a run at the park, I went home, made myself lunch. Watched Fear on DVR. I think I caught some Ugly Betty reruns - no, wait, that was last weekend. Went to Porto's and then sat down to write.

I am still store from surfing. Hello, the pain of accomplishments. Insert clever analogy here. Also the wetsuit gave me a rash on my arms and legs. So, if you smell Gold Bond powder - yeah, it's me. And there are all these scratches on my fingers - what are these from? From my wipeout? The board? Or are they from wrestling on the skintight wetsuit? We may have been in Malibu, but this ain't no beach body.

The dude next to me at the library has proceeded to put his head down and sleep. Really, buddy? Sleep? Why don't you just go home and take a nap? He does have an old school flip phone like mine, though - this is his only redeeming quality, I have determined. Which, recently I was derided for having. He wakes up, doesn't do any studying or work whatsoever, and leaves after the nap. Venga!

Wow I get annoyed at people these days. The girl next to me finally returned to her study cube, after leaving the library to drive off and get her cup of coffee and bring it back to her spot, claimed by her stack of notes left unattended. And I thought I was being sneaky bringing in my Writing Smoothie. Isn't there some code of library etiquette? I mean, sure, we all snuck our Starbucks cups into the library in college (hello, GW alum!) but - I wouldn't leave a hot commodity such as a study cube in the 3rd floor stacks and go get a cup of coffee and hog the spot that I had left. I mean, venga, people!

Eating Healthy
Breakfast: Lox on French bread, scrambled eggs.
Lunch: Sundried tomato and goat cheese salad. Ham and avocado sandwich on rustic bread.
Dinner: Paella with chorizo, bell peppers, tomatoes and the whole madness of spices in there. Made that one from scratch with the real deal - saffron and all!
And now, after an unexpectedly Mediterranean diet for today, I could really go for a cookie right about now. I must've spent two hours cooking for dinner alone.

Courage, Woman!
It hit me that I find the smallest acts in the world are the brave ones. It doesn't have to be an epic saga of stalwart character in the face of adversity, no no. It is in the courage to kill a spider, the bravery to use a port-a-potty and enduring whatever may befall you once you have entered. Okay - so I really had to hit the restroom when I went running today at the park - I pass about four port-potties and things start to look desperate. Finally I spot the restroom and bolt into there - pleasantly surprised by the fully stocked t.p., soap, and functioning hand dryer. Good things DO come to those who wait.

Surfing Lesson, Living the Clichés, Weighing the Costs.

No -that's not me.

I went surfing today for the first time. I finally did it. It was one of the things in my bag-o'-tricks that I've always wanted to try. I wiped out, wished I had longer arms, and got schooled. And that wetsuit is quite possibly the tightest thing I've ever put on my body. Second skin, no joke! After finally getting the thing on I was tired!  Anyhew, a whole lot of paddling out, gaining my balance, and riding the waves.  Bellyboarding it and then did manage to make it on the knees.  Must work up to standing up.

Note to self: Need to do daily push-ups regimen before going surfing again.

My arms are definitely feeling the workout. My wrists and forearms, achy from what I suspect to be from the strain on my existing tendonitis/carpal tunnel issues. Will ignore for the time being.

Living the Dream - I mean, Clichés
As I write this on my laptop, I am sitting in a cafe near my apartment. Doing what else? Writing. Working on my screenplay. How trite, I think. But hey - if that's what it takes to make me write, I will DO IT! I am in Sherman Oaks, and in this particular cafe there are other writers, students, and laptop-toting nerds. I get the sense that I'm among my peers. Or maybe a bunch that didn't want to sit in their hot ass apartment since it must be 92 degrees today.

I've been reading a lot of things lately. Steven Pressfield's The War of Art. The Bible. Stuff on the Matador Network. I wonder if it would make any difference if I was writing a novel in a café in Paris. Or Buenos Aires. Or Prague. Who are these people, anyway? Does anyone really write novels in cafés, gallivanting through Europe? I would like to know. That cliché is a dream of mine - no, really. Writing novels in cafés in Europe sounds MUCH more romantic than going to Panera and staking out a claim on a table near an outlet. Ooh, baby. Being surrounded by a foreign language and ordering café au laits.

COTW [crush-of-the-week]

Easy-on-the-eyes surfers. Sure, you're cute, but why can't you make me laugh?

Costs of Commitment
I just sent a check for $195 to renew my car registration for a year.

Out of sheer curiosity, I checked what the cost would be back in Pennsylvania, in the place of my hometown. Cost of renewal? $36.

Lines and Words and Conversations[lines-of-the-week lotw]

"Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Don't teach a man to fish, and you feed yourself. He's a grown man. Fishing's not that hard." Ron, Parks and Recreation.

peoplesuck. Adjective. Doing a peoplesuck thing. Saying a peoplesuck comment to show that YOU are one of those PEOPLE that SUCK. You know, kind of like a buzzkill. But worse. Wonder if this one will catch on.

In Conversation
Me: "I kinda want to go shopping. I like clothes that are versatile that can go from work to after hours."
Friend: "Yeah. You could go shopping."
Me: "I will. For versatile clothes."
Friend: "Or you could just change clothes."

Clean Slate.

The actual magnet board in my apartment.

My friend told me to get rid of it. It's this black and white floral print dress, with satin at the hemline and mesh lining the top of the bust.

I've had it since high school. It's undergone some alterations, but its still wearable. It has withstood the tests of fashion's temperamental moods as well as my own.

My magnet board, a few moments later.

I decided to get rid of a few things. There's this one BCBG strappy number I wore to at least one wedding and one vacation, and has probably graced my closet for the better part of the last five, seven years. I toss it into a shopping bag, along with the Carlos Santana peep-toed heels that hurt like hell and look like brand new because I have never worn them.

I figured, it's time to clean things out and clear out the clutter. Hit the 'Refresh' button. Give yourself the space and the time and the peace of mind to work in, to live. To breathe.

So much easier with a clean slate.

Stuff I Love
Ok - so no crush-of-the-week lately. But I did have to share some details about some things I really love.

Angry Little Asian Girl [see image at left]. Love this. Really lovelovelove this. www.angrylittlegirls.com

Zappos. Awesome. Wish I invented Zappos. Free shipping (for returns too!) and you can return shoes within 365 days. They also have clothing and bags, etc. Oh and you can order ballroom dancing shoes, too. Bailamos?

Waiting.

Waiting at the red light again. This one is particularly long. The one that makes you swear when you miss the end of the green light.

I feel like there are a lot of things that I'm waiting for. One of those obvious things about life, but even at any transient moment in life, everybody's waiting for something.

Things I'm Waiting For

American Beauty. It's the next movie in my Blockbuster queue. Status? 'Short wait.'

My new passport! It expired last month so I just sent the renewal forms and photos last week. Estimated processing time? 6 to 8 weeks. Hopefully that's just the worst case scenario. I mean, who knows if I'll even be living in the same apartment 8 weeks from now?

Waiting for Saturday. That's when I have my first surfing lesson. Hellooo, humbling experience.

The new season of 30 Rock!

Friday. (Like always?)

COTWs - I haven't been spotted lately. Los guapos, dónde estás?

Tina Fey Shows Up In My Dream. Living My Dream...But does that mean I'm asleep?

Tina Fey.
Tina Fey was in my dream. I wouldn't say I was dreaming about Tina Fey, I was dreaming, and Tina Fey shows up. I'm standing on the rooftop in some area of NY (Queens or Brooklyn or somewhere) and it's raining. I must have been there with a couple of friends standing around and I'm holding an umbrella. And then I notice that there's a handful of people shooting some footage on top of the roof and all of sudden there's Tina. And I'm thinking, what are you doing in my dream, Tina Fey?
And then I start to wonder if she needs another writer on her genius TV series...and then I wake up.

These are the dreams you sometimes have when you're a struggling Hollywood Assistant/aspiring writer/me. Sometimes you have a convoluted mess of symbolism and literary motifs. Other times, Tina Fey shows up in your dreams.

And then I wondered if Leo and Joseph G-L were going to get here soon - you know, to portray the respective romantic interests. (Naturally.)What? I can't have them even in my own dream? Boo you.

I think about the past; I reminisce. I have a cup of my Dunkin' Donuts brewed coffee in hand and begin to wax introspectively. Goals are dreams that are reached for and, in due time, achieved. (Or failed and then achieved. Or failed multiple times and then achieved. Or just failed relentlessly. Or never attempted, which I find saddest of all.) That's all they really are. Sometimes they seem absolutely impossible, and then, one day, you find that you are sitting somewhere you've only dreamt about. So - not that I'm trying to sound cheesy, but dreams become reality. Not just for me, but for many other people.

Dreams.

I once dreamt of living in Los Angeles. Then I moved 3,000 miles and it became so.

I had a dream of working for a major television network. After a roundabout way, I landed myself in that spot.

Ever since I studied abroad in Spain, I have always wanted to share it with my family. I finally got the chance to go last year.

Goals.
I supposed these could also be found under some of your New Year's resolutions list, if you have one.

Improv classes. I took them this year. It was terrifying and painful but I did it.

Take a tango class. This one I checked off last week.

Finish a particularly pesky short story I kept shelving. That one I was able to take off my desk last month.

Find a one-bedroom apartment close to work, with parking, central air, a pool, and affordable rent. Thank goodness.

Meet a tall, intelligent, romantic, and charming gentleman who speaks four languages, knows how to salsa, cook, and make me laugh. Massage therapy training a plus.

The Black Card of All Black Cards.

I just got a new credit card to replace my old one.  It's black.  It kind of sparkles.  Weird - I've never gotten a black credit card before - no, it's not the famed AMEX toted by celebs and other heavy-hitters for doing serious damage to the tune of 250 Gs a year.

This got me thinking.  I wish there was a black card - for another elite group of people.  One that transcends money, fame, and power.  A black card that is given out only to people whose faith has been tested, resilience attacked, integrity challenged, humility confirmed, horizons expanded.  And - all requirements must have been successfully met; the card will ultimately open the door to any building, any club, and is also a ticket out of any haze of confusion (speeding ticket, etc.) that may arise regarding your legitimacy as an upstanding, and above average, citizen.  A black card that indicates membership to an extraordinary fellowship of people that don't cut corners, don't kiss ass, don't gossip, don't backstab, and don't have a tremendous chip in the...you get my drift.  A black card based solely on strength of character.

Invite only, of course.


[Image: http://www.upgradetravelbetter.com/2007/05/22/reader-mail-how-can-i-upgrade-flights-using-american-express/ ]

Five Honeys.

Went shopping on Melrose the other day.  RED FLAG, right?  If you cruise by this little section just by La Cienega Blvd., you might have seen me.  I was in that store.  You know.  Marc Jacobs.

Now, I had been walking around, maybe for about 10 or 15 minutes, on this particular occasion, looking for a handbag to replace my very beaten (and slightly abused) one.  You know.  All in line with the "fresh start", and adding a new "spring to my step" mantra for the season.  Anyway - couldn't find a single thing I liked.  Everyone's picky, right? 

Well - except for one thing.  I came across a purse at Marc Jacobs.  No price tags are visible hanging off of any of their bags - they are all lined up, high along the walls of rows upon rows of shelves.  I zero in on one purse.  I check with the salesperson in the store and find out that the bag is four hundred some bucks.  I check on zappos and it's listed at $428 [Photo: www.zappos.com], so including tax the grand total would be $469.73.  Nearly five honeys?!  Something inside me cringes - stemming from either my middle-class upbringing or my hardworking professional life.  I put the bag back on the shelf.  Hmm...what could $500 buy me...?  A refrigerator.  A roundtrip plane ticket.  A vacation.  God knows I'd rather spend my hard-earned dough seeing the world rather than tote some designer duds in the same zip code.

But then again...if you have the means...?

Fresh Start. The Hair - or is it the Face?

I feel like I need to hit a 'Restart' button. Having a fresh start, cleaning out old clothes, getting a new book, having an extra spring in your step.

I think that's what I need these days.  I'm going to review my pages and see what my latest To Do List was for this year. You know - figure out what I can check off and see what's left on the list. I don't really make New Years' Resolutions - but I'm an avid To Do Listmaker of goals throughout the year. I've been trying to pay more attention to doing this. No one else is going to make sure those things on your list get done except for YOU, anyway.

So today - today I am going back to the List. What's on my list, you say? Oh come on, this is a blog, not a spoiler alert of my life. I like to keep personal things personal; I hate loose lips.

These days I'm striving to focus - but I think trying new things is still very crucial to keeping things fresh. Don't trainers tell you not to keep doing the same ol' exercises and to mix things up? Note to self: go find that ol' bag of tricks and see what's in there.

The Hair - or is it the Face?
I feel a little unkempt today; for sure I am guilty on more than one occasion of what certain stylists would pinpoint as "getting dressed in the dark"; my hair is still wet from my limited time with the hair dryer and the mad dash out the front door.

Once finding myself surrounded by a group of people, I found my eyes resting upon one of the women. She looked old. No make-up, and the same hairstyle kept for quite some time.  The hair looks old.  The face looks old.  Or maybe the hair and the face look tired?  There is no color in her face (but she's not sick or anything) - that's just her natural look - there is simply no color in her face.

She's not much older than I am. I wonder if I look old. 
I push the thought away and focus on the task at hand.  I've got to call Helen. She's my stylist.

Time to shake things up a bit - I mean, do something with this hair.

It took me five years to find Helen - and yes, it is harder to find a good stylist than it is to find a boyfriend.  I'm never going to any other stylist for as long as I can manage.

Who says I'm a commitment phobe ?

Noncommittal.

Sometimes I get into these phases where I don't want to make any plans. Leave things alone, stop all the planning and scheduling and just relax.

I'm sitting in my apartment, staring at the annual car registration renewal notice sitting in front of me. It is due on the 16th of this month, the hefty bill was actually even higher last year. The irony that even if you plan not to use your car for a year, you still have to fork over 18 bucks.

Paying the $195 tab means that I am committing to living in L.A. for another year, to living, working, and writing in this town for another twelve months of my life.

Why so noncommittal, you ask?
Good question. These days I keep feeling a bit more ambivalence when it comes to making plans. I'd like to have a bit more - flexibility, independence, freedom, I suppose. Perhaps there is a touch of the bohemian spirit left in me. Or, maybe there's something of the quarterlife crisis that remains within me as time goes by and aging refuses to be ignored. The blur of weddings and engagements surrounding me, the world that dares to continue turning while you're standing still - reorganization of life priorities ensues.

If I accept a free new cell phone from Verizon wireless, it means I'm committing myself to two more years of their services.  But what if I want to terminate our relationship?  I mean, who knows if I will still be happy with our agreement for two whole years?  And if I don't honor our contract, that means I am penalized with a sucker-punch pricetag.  Smells like a prenup.

I like Verizon, don't get me wrong.  I just don't know if I love Verizon.  So - I don't want to make a commitment if I'm not sure.

24 Hour Fitness: You seem pretty cool and all, but I'm just not looking for anything serious right now.

As for that month-to-month apartment lease...not going to worry about it for the time being, will just take one of those giant leaps of faith.