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.

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.

I Want To Go To There, Restoring Order, and Watching TV in the Bathroom.

I had second thoughts about putting this blurry picture up. The truth is - what you say (and write/blog) is pretty personal - which makes me hesitate because what you reveal about yourself, well, leaves you feeling a bit exposed. So - considering the fact that I've been pretty candid in this blog (albeit for names concealed to protect all those involved) - I kind of still feel that much of what I've shared here is kept among a select group (i.e. the five people that read my blog). So here we go - no turning back now, I suppose.

This is a photo of a couple items pinned to the walls of my cubicle - actual photo from my desk. The quote is from 30 Rock and says, as you can tell,"I want to go to there." It is tacked onto the wall, along with a subway map. A subway map of...a certain city in Europe. I kid you not. If you were to pass by my desk on any given day, you would find - no photographs of friends or family - but you would find these items here, tacked up behind me, whom you'll see rolling calls or printing documents or filing or reading emails.

I never really thought about it until today - this forgotten piece of paper and hard stock card, pinned up behind me on the walls surrounding my daily cluster of hustle-and-bustle. A completely abandoned thought, yet probably the one place in the world I would know to go to given the chance and the omission of obstacles such as time and money. I wonder if my boss has ever noticed it.

Where do you want to go?

Restoring Order, and Watching TV in the Bathroom
I kind of like doing the dishes. Take it easy - MY OWN dishes, that is. Out of all the household chores, I don't mind doing this one. Cleanliness is achieved; balance is restored - instant gratification. Laundry takes at least two hours. Dishes only take a moment. It's cathartic - to see the results of your work immediately - a little soap and water, some scrubbing, and order is attained. Control freak much?

I wish I had a flatscreen TV in my bathroom. I used to think that it was a luxurious piece of evidence that you were a spoiled rich kid - I mean bona fide aristocrat. But now - not so much. Why do I want a TV in my bathroom? You know, so I can finish watching my shows while shaving my legs. This is likely because I'm a product of the '80s and Saved By The Bell and The Fresh Prince of Bel Air and I like to multitask (can get the Philly girl to the West Coast, can't get the overachiever gene out of the girl).

No, really - TV in the bathroom. Think of the time you could save!

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?

Fast forward, s'il vous plait.

Let's skip the bs and get to Friday already. Life is short.

Should I get rid of my car?
I've been thinking. What if I got rid of my car? I took it in for it's overdue round of service - let's see, what was that, $2-300? Then I'm renewing my insurance policy on it so there's the monthly insurance payments to the tune of $100/month. Such a burden. Car is king in LA, I know; but, alas, it's become luggage. Having to traipse around LA trying to find parking. That keeps sucking money out of you...

So this is what my life has come to. Reviewing my car insurance policy. That's the most important thing on my to do list these days. That and filing my taxes (still haven't done them), getting the button sown back on my jacket, and doing the laundry this weekend. But no one really talks about all that. And why would they?

Why can't men be like Europe?
Europe is just as old and charming and romantic and beautiful as I remember it to be. Why can't more men be like that? Hmm. Well, minus the 'old,' of course.

And, as much as I'm trying not to rub it in, it is really nice to get out of LA. Honestly. Really, really, really nice.

COTW crush-of-the-week

Spotted: the matching shirt and ascot combo. Niiice. If you don't ask me out by next week, maybe I'll have to ask you out myself. Yeah! No - don't make me do that.

People who like pie. And, of course, House of Pies on Vermont.