Posts Tagged 'happiness'

I dance alone.

I am coming to realize that a good measure of how happy I am is how frequently I close the blinds and dance around the house by myself.

Only when I’m dancing can I feel this free
At night I lock the doors, where no one else can see


Weekend, in no particular order.

Sunday Afternoon:: Wearing an absolutely adorable, newly purchased dress, I found myself at a baby shower Sunday morning. There I was, sandwiched between a bevy of women who were just like me [or so an outsider might conclude] and yet, completely not like me at all. As they talked about rubbing butt cream on their babies’ behinds and how since baby was born, their marriages have been lacking in sex, I was thinking about how much I drank the night before, trying to recall if I did anything I need to apologize for, wondering whether the boy I was talking to was actually cute, etc.

As it dawned on my how different I was from Them, I started to freak out a bit. Maybe I should stop being so much like me and more like those women, I thought. Maybe I ought to date one of those guys my whole family is constantly trying to set me up with and get on the road to marriage and baby and sexless days and nights, I considered. Was I a bad person/friend for having at that moment written off the friend whose baby shower I was attending because I don’t much like baby people, I wondered.

But then I noticed there were cupcakes. And I felt okay again.

Friday night:: As I boarded an airplane at LAX , I was pleased to see several dozen people gathered around the television screens in an attempt to watch the presidential debate. It didn’t even bother me so much that several people were nodding disapprovingly every time Obama spoke. I was just happy that people actually seem to care about this election.

Later Friday Night::
Four hours, three new table friends, two tequila shots and one horribly played poker hand later, I was one hundred dollars poorer.

Saturday Afternoon:: Spent some quality time at the pool attempting to improve upon the tan I gained last weekend. Ended up with a slight burn. Lesson:: Don’t be greedy.

Sunday Night:: Mental order restored. I don’t want to be tied down with child. I want to bounding around Knott’s Scary Farm with my friends, reenacting seventh grade. Which is exactly what I was doing.

Partying with the Olds.

Lately, my parents have been complaining that I don’t see them enough, which allegedly worries them. Trust me, I see them plenty. But I know that if I don’t start putting in more time, they will resort to their phone call tag team tactics, the unannounced stop-by, or worse even.* Given the horrors I have been forced to endure when my parents start to worry, I couldn’t take the risk. Since THEIR [my parents have a more active social life than I do] weekend was booked up, it was agreed that I would accompany them tonight to a party at my mom’s friend’s house.
I showed up to the party around eight. Upon my arrival, I found all the Olds wasted. Drunk! At eight! On a school night!! As I made the rounds to say hello, and my mom and a member of her bestie circle came charging at me with a teacup filled with tequila. They were doing shots! On a school night!! I refused the tequila on the basis that I have to report to work early the next morning, at which point my dad accused me of being boring.

My dad is 72 years old. And he thinks that I am boring. This is very distressing.

A couple hours or so after my arrival, the music volume started creeping up. Before I knew it, a group of the Olds [my mom being the team ring leader, as always] were gleefully dancing about. Of course, they wanted me to dance about with them. I started doing a half-assed hip swirl to quite them done, but quickly realized that I can’t hang with those ladies. They are far better dancers than I am! Plus, I knew it would be only a matter of minutes before talk of setting me up with so-and-so’s son or such-and-such’s nephew began. So instead, I escaped the dance circle, blew off some hasty goodbye kissed and sprinted for my car.

But I tell you, strange as the experience was, seeing my mom and her friends dancing, laughing, drinking and obviously having a really awesome time, made me – for the first time ever – unafraid of getting old. Momentarily at least.

[I know I used a lot of exclamation points, but it isn’t every day you confirm that your parents are infinitely cooler than you could ever hope to be]
* Once, after returning to NYC after Christmas break in Los Angeles, I called my parents from the taxi to let them know that I had arrived safe. I had flown with my then boyfriend, so I assumed they wouldn’t be worried about the taxi cab driver murdering me en route. Turns out, they worried. So much so, that when they didn’t hear from me for two days [my phone was dead, charger left back in LA], my dad called the DEAN of the law school to check up on me. I was called into his office and told to call my parents more often because they love me and are worried about me. Oh god. The horror.

Never underestimate the power of friends.

I woke up this morning with a heavy heart. My first instinct was to just mope around the house wishing for something magical to happen knowing all the while that it won’t, thereby causing me to sink deeper into my self-induced fake depression. Instead, I set off for a Mexico/Movie Adventure with Certain Someone.

The first stop was El Coyote. Yes, I know the food kind of sucks there. Yes, I know there is an over-abundance of Christmas lights. Yes, my stomach hurts EVERY time I eat there. But dangit, I love that place. My usual tamale, guacamole, salsa, bean explosion did not disappoint.

After our bellies were full [seriously, painfully, full], we set off to Universal City to catch Wall-E.* It turns out that Universal City is one of the WORST places on earth. As if the twelve dollar parking wasn’t tragic enough, the place is nothing more than a giant, lit up food court. The theater, however, had a special feature that knocked my socks off:: the Dyson hand dryer. World, if you have not yet encountered such hand dryer, you are not living up to your full potential.

Wall-E, which is sooo not a kids movie, is awesome. There is one part where Wall-E is desperate to get another robot to hold his hand. At this moment a) I thought to myself “I am just like Wall-E, all I want is someone to hold my hand” and b) I cried like a fool. Just to recap, I compared myself to a robot and had an emotional melt down. All together now, can we say PMS?

In sum:: I woke up totally sad. I ate a meal that made my belly ache. I went to a place I hated [minus the hand dryer, which seriously, was ridiculously awesome]. I paid too much for parking. But at the end of it all, I feel so much better than I did earlier because I hung out with my friend.

Hooray for friends.

* On the way to the movie we passed by the Banksy gas station on La Brea and Beverly. The fact that his work exists near me makes me happy.

Banksy Girl at Valero on La Brea/Beverly
Banksy Girl at Valero on La Brea/Beverly

Bad things.

I do not like the following::

1:: The phrase “it is what it is.” Yes, it is. But, must we really have a saying stating as such? And must people use it with such frequency and self satisfaction? Next time someone tells me something is what it is, I am going to say:: “Potatoes will always be potatoes.” Because, they will, you know? Just like it is what it is. And I am who I am. And I arrived when I arrived. And I ate what I ate. And then I left when I did.

2:: Securities Exchance Commission. I do not like you.

3:: That my New Roommate’s ringtone on her phone is a song. And further that the song is one by Akon. And further yet that the song contains the lyric “hundred dollar bills ya’ll.” And I don’t mean in jest.

4:: Text messages as a means of substantive conversation. I can hang with text messages for simple communication, drunked flirtation, sober flirtation, and “just wanted to say hi” kind of nonsense. But, please. Please. Please. Please. Do not try to convey important things to me via text.

5:: People who pretend (mostly boys in my case) that they do not know you when they CLEARLY do. This just happened to me a few days ago. There is a certain guy whose parents are friends with my family. I have known him for about a million years and see him at least three times a year. We aren’t friends per se, but we are friendly. And he totally asked me out once. I see the guy at a family get together this past weekend, and he literally said “Hi, nice to meet you.” This makes him either (a) exceedinly stupid, or (b) exceedingly pathetic. Either way, I don’t like it.

6:: Running out of popcorn. One should never, ever run out of popcorn.

7:: Sunday, 8:53 p:: I have done extensive studies, and it is proven that 8:53 p is the WORST. TIME. EVER. It is at this time that you realize the weekend is over and Monday is looming. Sunday, 8:53 p is the inverse of Friday 6:00 p.

Weekend tales.

In no particular order::

1. My mother, solidifying her spot as the coolest mom of all time, decided Sunday morning that she wanted to spend her mother’s day not at the Four Seasons brunching, as we had planned, but at a local casino playing poker. And so began a little family trip to the City of Commerce.

2. At the casino I sat beside the hottest guy I have seen in 2008. As I was leaving, he followed me to the cashier [I won three hundred dollar dollar bills ya’ll (all of which has been spent – see item 3)] to give me his number. Given that he had degenerate [and very sexy] gambler written all over him, I don’t intend to use it.* But still, it totally made my day/month. Any furthermore, if I should ever be back at Commerce Casino again and happen to sit beside him, I may just think our encounters to be destiny and may have to propose to him.

3. I purchased an awesome new “work” dresses. I say “work” because it is not actually work appropriate, but somehow classifying the dress as such, even if erroneously, makes me feel more justified about the purchase.

4. Gameboy e-dumped me on Friday. He then tried to take it back Saturday [kind of], suggesting that perhaps he was hasty and we should see what happens. But alas, one can not take back a dump. Especially one so ill-conceived and delivered electronically.

5. I joined eHarmony. Because, you know, I don’t have enough male induced drama in my life already. I also have been informed that Gameboy is an eHarmony patron and that so I hope desperately that we lack the five points of compatibility. The reason that I know this about Gameboy is because the world is intent on demonstrating over and over how small it is. I get it world. Please stop tormenting me.

6. I met blogger Single/Fabulous on Saturday. We went hiking at Runyon Canyon. She was very Nice/Awesome.

7. I had eight tons of tortilla chips at Pink Taco while watching the Laker’s play shit basketball, then drove to a bar in Hollywood to meet up with some friends. Met up with said friends. Downed two shots of tequila under intense peer pressure. Wanted to leave about 10 minutes later and was obvs not going to drive. So instead, I left my car at said bar and took a cab. The end result was my car being held hostage for two days and my having to pay a usurious “parking” fee to get it back. Fucking Hollywood.

8. Evil Troll and her boyfriend seem to have broken up yet again, as her Shitious Boyfriend has called my New Roommate in hopes of re-re kindling whatever it was they had. This whole situation is rapidly morphing from somewhat amusing to just plain old sad. Also, I am very displeased to have it reaffirmed yet again that people can be such scoundrels. There are literally two women on the planet that are off limits to Shiteous Boyfriend by virtue of their acquaintance with Evil Troll. Why must he pursue one of those gals? Anyone care to comment on this?

9. [Redacted for now]

10. My New Roommate has met a new guy that is phenomenally cool. They seemingly have nothing in common, but I hope she keeps him around because he is fun to hang out with. Also, he is not Shiteous Boyfriend.

11. I had one of the best hair days EVER [not counting professionally done days] Saturday night.

12. I can’t tell sometimes if my blog makes me seem more neurotic than I am or if I am more neurotic than I let on in my blog.

* This is what they call progress. For the first time ever, I am avoiding a guy that is all but assured to spell danger for me, despite my intense physical attraction. I am growing up people.

By the time I grow up.

The Apocalypse is around the bend (aka – Diet Coke is turning 30 soon). Soon is relative, of course, and in this context means five hundred and one certain to be fleeting days. Gasp.

I seldom think of the aging process, probably because I act more like a college freshman on a typical day than a sophisticated adult. And still, the fact remains, I am getting old(er). And I have no more of an idea about life now than I did ten years ago, and aside from my scholastic achievements and income earning, it is safe to say that I have not accomplish much either. I am basically the same person now as I was then except with three extra gray hairs, reduced skin elasticity, a better wardrobe, more clutter, and less optimism about the world. Thank god my boobs have held up, I’d otherwise be totally defeated.

I decided last night rather than rue the day I roll over into my Dirty Thirties, I am going to make the next five hundred and one days the most fantastic I’ve experienced yet. When my personal Age Apocalypse arrives, I won’t look back and wish/wonder/lament what could have been and be sad over a waste “youth”.

To that end, I have made a list of all the things I want to accomplish (my list is clearly unbridled by reality)::

1. Run a marathon (even if really, really slowly)
2. Save a life
3. Finally clear my closet of all the clothing that I love but never wear
4. Publish a book
5. Write a poem that dose not suck
6. Learn how to properly use “that” and “which”
7. Stop being a lawyer
8. Cease all lies, even the ones that I tell to make others feel better
9. Learn to cook like my mother
10. One time (just one measly effing time) get something done BEFORE the deadline
11. Start writing thank you notes
12. Forgive Evil Troll for being the worst person I have ever come across (clearly, not nearing forgiveness quite yet)
13. Only engage in activities that I want to genuinely be engaging in (no more party attendance out of obligation, ya’ll!)
14. Travel somewhere by myself
15. Have sex on a mountain top
16. Start remembering people’s birthdays
17. Learn to drive – properly
18. Pay my parking tickets before the fine doubles
19. Stop signing up for things and then never going
20. Meditate
21. Levitate

There you have it. Those are the first 21 things that came to mind. There are hundreds more, but you get the point. And if you perhcance don’t get the point, it is this:: I have a lot a lot of things I want to do in my life. And for the most part, I am not doing them. And I am getting tired of having things I want to do and not doing them. Because life in general is short, and mine is getting shorter by the second, and so by golly – I am going to start going to make shit happen.

Errr, I just thought of one more thing.

22. Stop being the kind of person that purchases extravagantly expensive shoes.

When I grow up
I’ll be stable
When I grow up
I’ll turn the tables

loving, living, driving (badly), laughing, growing, losing, crying, smiling, winning, learning, watching tv, calorie counting and thriving. in LA.


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