Inspiration, Joie de Vivre.

Inspiration
I attended my friend's father's funeral last weekend.  It had been a sudden passing, and I found my friend's resilience and ease of disposition altogether nothing short of inspiring.  His mother had recently woken up from a coma and had been recovering from an illness, while his father and him didn't have a great relationship; they had come to peace with each other and let bygones be bygones.  He himself had suffered epilepsy and experienced a stroke a couple of years ago.

Yet he has a genuine lightheartedness about him, a friendly, inquisitive yet sincere nature when meeting new friends.  He and his lovely girlfriend recently got engaged.

As my friend delivered the eulogy that evening, he talked openly about the memory of his father; he touched upon the reminder that life was incredibly short.  He was mourning, but he wasn't lamenting his death so much as he was celebrating his father's life, and his entry to a place better than the one that we all currently know.  One of the things he mentioned was that his father didn't have much - in terms of wealth.  He didn't have tons of money, he didn't own any property.  What his son talked about, was his character.  Financial assets he bore none, but character was what he had; his character was what he was known for.

There's a reason why men and women hope to "marry rich."  Sure, bills are an arduous source of stress in life.  But at the end of the day, no one cares about money.  It won't matter how much money you made, the houses you bought, or the cars you owned; that's all just stuff.

Speaking of which, I am still clearing out my apartment.  I wasted a lot of dough.  And man, I have a lot of stuff - which now weighs me down - every little thing is another item I need to figure out how to get rid of - ship, donate, or toss?  People waste a lot of money.

It doesn't matter if a guy sends me flowers to apologize for some sort of former disappointment.  In fact, I love getting flowers - (I'm a sweeping romantic, hello!) but time is precious - any physical gift purchased could never truly replace time lost; for me, time is the most valuable thing any person could give me.  The greatest disappointment or pain anyone could inflict upon you is to deem you unworthy of his or her time.

So what control do we have over our time?

The funeral just reminded me that yes, life is short.  Did you already forget?

People never look back at their lives and say, "Man, I wish I had worked more."  What would you do, given the opportunity to do anything at all?

Joie de Vivre
Thank goodness I'm not a drinker, a smoker, or gateway drug user.  Hmm.  I suppose the aforementioned are both gateway drugs.

If you look at the fine print, I have all the right ingredients for closet-case addict.  Suburban angst, cultural identity conflicts, having B positive blood, I'm a writer, you get the drift.  Could've been living life in the fast-and-easy lane, where the talent and passion ride strong and hot but always die young.

The physical evidence is there.  I love the taste of coffee and how it makes me feel.  Foods like bitter dark chocolate, Herr's ketchup potato chips, Rita's custard gelati; one of the things I can't stop talking about, one of my favorite things, is food - must be because of how significant it is to me that it activates the pleasure center in the brain.  I love getting my pedicure done because of the mini foot massage that comes with it.  All of that points toward satisfaction felt through physical senses - a physical kind of joie de vivre.

Hmmm.  I wonder if I'll ever get some more Chocovivo before I leave town.

Hustling, Are you sad?, Guys With Bad Breath, LOTW

Hollywood is all about hustling. Such is life, I know.

I'm a hustler, baby. What? I just couldn't resist. I really hate hustling. It's a tiresome game.  I dread networking events or mixers. It is a much more gemütlich situation when meeting in small groups, or just one-on-one with someone you already know from a prior association.

We're all hustling in this industry. The work, the sweat, the networking, researching, and whispering in the break room.  Not exactly the piece of cake it appears to be from the window.

Are you sad?
People keep asking me this. My feelings about leaving town (and country), however, haven't left me lachrymose. Honestly, I haven't had a chance to give it much thought. Life's details get in the way. You know. What with packing and moving out of my apartment and episodes of Modern Family and 30 Rock.

Guys with Bad Breath.
One of my friends suggested I go out dancing one last time before I leave town.

One bad thing about salsa dancing with guys is that you risk running into a few that have bad breath. Gentlemen, please note: this is a HUGE turn-off. I don't care how good of a dancer you are, or how attractive you might be - halitosis is enough to drive any woman away - instant babe repellent. When us women sense that something noxious is afoot, our instincts tell us to GET THE HELL AWAY FROM WHATEVER THAT SMELL IS.

Apparently in the dental world, professionals can ascertain whether the patient had tartar or plaque in their gums because of their odoriferous nature. This also contributes to bad breath. Yeah. I know. I'm brushing my teeth right now.

LOTW [lines-of-the-week]
"You will win this in the end. It's all about heart. And character. Be your best self...[aside:]I have no idea what his problem is. That's my standard advice. It's good advice, right?" Darryl, The Office, "Sex Ed."

"Hurry up, Aladdin.  Before Jasmine is forced to marry Jafar!" Liz Lemon, 30 Rock, "Live Show."

"Because my name is also Britney Spears.  My middle name is Susan, my last name is Pierce, that makes me Brittany S. Pierce - Britney Spears.  I've lived my entire life in Britney Spears' shadow - I will never be as talented or as famous.  I hope you all respect that I want glee club to remain a place where I, Brittany S. Pierce can escape the torment of Britney Spears." Brittany, Glee, "Britney/Brittany."

Hung Over, & Healthy Dose of Terror.

Hung Over.
Today I feel listless. My lips are parched; I'm dehydrated. One of those days that lethargy and fatigue take over and you inevitably feel hung over. Dehydration. Hangover. Basically the same thing.

Some people go by that rule of thumb of drinking about 8 glasses of water (8 oz. each) a day. If that's the case, I down about 15-20 glasses on any given day. Why so thirsty? I have no idea. Since college I've been a fish.

This week I feel battered; my shins are bruised.  I hope no one notices. I have scratches all over my hands from packing up boxes - or golf class - or cooking - or anything, really.

Hello, Terror.
Realization is rolling in with the tide and I am a bit petrified. A bit of terror is healthy every now and again, though. A side of intimidation with my peach iced tea, please. Contentment can breed complacency and grows from that crop of the Life-is-long school.

Like sushi rolls that have a pinch of hidden wasabi at the bottom, but to enjoy the entire fish you have to experience that sudden burst of spice in your nostrils. Enjoyment coupled with spice. Or a burning sensation. Comes in a package deal.  No way you would have known beforehand.  Or even known to ask. (Thanks, Teru Sushi.  Now I'll always be suspicious.)

So go, people. Get out there. Be terrified.

Some days, you really have smooth, positive experiences at work.  You feel content; you feel good; a hard day's work is done.

Other days...well.

I really like that song 'Airplanes' by B.o.B. feat. Hayley Robinson.

You can practically hear the passion and desperation and energy and seething discontentment bursting at the seams.

And - it's damn catchy.

I feel a little bit of it sometimes - in that moment when I get home from a particularly long day and I rip off my work clothes as if they were on fire.

But they are not on fire, they are just regular business casual clothes appropriate for my profession.

Forget all the glitz of your Almighty Five-Year, Ten-Year, or whatever Life Plan. When your plans unravel, what would you wish for if you had one chance?

You can't always live life in a do-or-die fashion.  Sometimes you have bricks in your knapsack that cannot be discarded.

But sometimes, when the effervescence rises, it spills over.

Yikes.

Two Weeks Notice.

You may have noticed that I haven't been posting lately. I have, however, been writing - though there was a paucity in volume, am expanding to different formats. I gave my notice to leave my job. It's probably one of the most difficult decisions I've had to make. So - I did it. After a considerable time of reflection and consideration, I came to a decision and revised my letter of resignation (this was the writing I was telling you about).

Fresh off a weekend holiday in DC, I cleared my head. I felt ready. It was time to move on and finally jump off the diving board instead of tiptoeing on it and thinking about it. Amazing what a few days away from work and with some dear friends and family can do for you.

Finally, I can move forward. I'm leaving Los Angeles. Maybe I'll come back. Maybe I won't. One thing is for certain: I'm leaving my life open to possibility. Change can be a really good thing. This was the 'Restart' button I was talking about. It was a long time coming.

What next, you say?
I decided to move abroad. For a year, maybe longer. I gave it a great deal of thought and weighed my options, did the whole agonizing life re-evaluating, soulful introspection cycle. I'm not married and I don't have kids, and I may not have the opportunity to gallivant across the globe later on in life. This would be a decision made from the Life-is-Short school (which you may also recall from this post). I'm trusting in God. I'll just go wherever God takes me. There really is no telling for certain where I'll end up. So far I'm just planning on taking a teaching course for a month, and then pretty much a free agent after that. Perhaps I'll begin freelancing.

New chapter. I'm unbelievably excited and nervous. Why do I enjoy making decisions that have to be terrifying and exhilarating at the same time? Would have saved my family a ton of grief if I kept to the beaten path.

Why, you ask?
The catalyst for all this was a mundane occurrence: my leasing agreement ending. The owner of my apartment deciding to sell.  A buyer was found pretty quickly, and things kind of sped up from there.  I just didn't have the desire in me to move and go through the whole rigmarole of finding yet another apartment and committing to a 12-month lease.  To sum up, I just didn't feel like moving.  Didn't want it badly enough.

Oh, jobs.

Raspberry Rush Lipstick.
Today I wore my Raspberry Rush lipstick to work. I wonder if anyone noticed. Probably not. Most people are wrapped up in their own bubble of work, family, and friends. Or, sometimes just themselves. I hope I am at least in the work-family-friends school.

But, I wonder what people remember about you after you leave. Is it your shade of lipstick? Certain idioms you frequently use? Interesting how often people never see themselves the way others see them.

Then again, maybe I could try the Lady Gaga lipstick.

Rita's, Life is Short vs. Life is Long, and "Your Pores Are Really Clogged."

I Want Rita's.
I really want Rita's. Seriously. Rita's Water Ice. It is an East coast-based institution that started in Pennsylvania. It is Italian water ice, gelati, and custard - I forgot how good it was. A recent trek Eastward and my stomach, if it could feel any emotions, felt utterly happy. I could actually feel my stomach smiling. Watermelon gelati with vanilla custard. The orange cream custard - smooth and sweet, yet light, flavorful.

What does that decision have to do with anything? Why should anybody care? You're right. Nobody cares. But it's still a decision.

Life is Short vs. Life is Long
I feel like every decision you make falls under one of two categories: Life is Short or Life is Long. Most people's decisions, I feel, fall under the Life is Long category. Let me draw some examples:

Doing laundry. Life is long.

Falling asleep with the light on and without brushing your teeth. Life is short.

Going out to dinner with friends when you should really be cleaning your room. Life is short.

Clipping coupons. Life is long.

Going out on Friday after work instead of crashing at home because you're exhausted from the week. Life is short.

Semi-flirting with that guy you've had your eye on, but still keeping your cool such that subleties keep things in the friend zone. Life is long.

Ask the guy out. Life is short.

Theatrical examples

Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Life is short.

25th Hour. Life is long.

Shawshank Redemption. Life is long.

Funny how the Life is Short category often includes items that some may consider to be irresponsible or foolish.

"You know, your pores are really clogged."
Thanks.

The woman doing my facial proceeds to do some painful extractions - this is where the pain begins and each blackhead is agonizingly pulled out, one by one. Make no mistake - those things are a bitch. I wince and eventually I can take no more.

"Please stop."

She says that the men that come in to get facials are actually the biggest babies.

For some reason I think this will make me feel better, but it doesn't. I keep wincing and have the vague feeling that something has changed. My tolerance for pain has dropped. I usually just suck it up when it comes to things like this. Today is not one of those days.

She finishes up with a soothing mask and a quick shoulder and arm massage.

You gotta be kidding me. A massage is probably one of the most luxurious things a person can have done in the world of pampering. Someone physically rubbing out the knots and the tight muscles in your body. That and cucumber water. I would like nothing more than to drink glasses of cucumber water all day. Mmmm.

Turns out, I cannot stop laughing when someone else touches my skin. It happens when someone else is putting make-up on my face, when I get massages, and apparently when I get facials (but not during extractions, since I am too busy crying inside).

In conclusion, apparently I'm not supposed to be washing my face twice a day but once. I know - you too, right? I will have to give this once-daily-wash a go of it and see what happens.

Does anybody have any cucumber water? Maybe I'll start bringing my own cucumber water to work. Office gossips be damned.