5'11'' pet project

alright, i guess more on that now since i just went to work and realized i showed up for the wrong shift. fucking miserable when this happens because not only does it throw off my entire day but now i know i won't be making money because the closing shift BLOWS. the last two hours turn into me scrubbing murphy's oil soap on some wooden surface and a fight against both boredom and the desire to eat anything and everything in sight, particularly bakery items. food that is free--or that you know is going to become trash--magically holds an unbearable appeal to the eyes and stomach. i hate that. i also hate how it would require me to jump through hoops before i could jump happily into a car and be on my way to what would surely be a mood-enhacing yoga class.

okay...controlling the rage now...maybe because i just expressed my rage to the friendly barista guy and he gave me an ice-blended vanilla latte on the house.

so i mentioned that i hung out with a 7th grader yesterday? that i did. we rode our bikes to hermosa where we shopped, ate, and lounged on the beach. then we headed back towards the manhattan pier where i watched her play volleyball for an hour and a half. it is all part of a new relationship that i have developed with her parents--specifically her father. they happen to live directly across the street from me, making their driveway the stage for which all the magic unfolded. he invented his first product at age nineteen and sold his million-dollar company by his twenty-ninth birthday. he only runs about ten businesses from home--no big deal, i run my own blog from home, which is basically the same thing. he talks a mile a minute and sometimes i struggle just to keep up with his southern californian, highly dense financial lexicon; but i feel so blessed that him and his wife have graciously welcomed me into their lives. i would call it the 5'11'' pet project starring me, the "abandoned, neglected, tormented, deprived of necessary food, water, exposed to heat for cold, or cruelly beaten" pet, and them, the couple who have taken it upon themselves to "help and protect" me. working on a television series as we speak.

yesterday, i hung out with a 7th grader. and i found myself a mentor.

details on all this and more later, cause someone's gotta go serve people their milk.

you have GOT to be joking

"on the verge of financial collapse, the AVP is once more hurriedly patching together deals with investors to keep the nation's top professional beach volleyball tour alive for this year...

...for a sport with so many inherent pluses, this news is discouraging for all who can only hope that once more the AVP will be revived."

umm, yeah...no shit.

for the entire article, click me.

two weeks notice

exactly two more weeks until the lease is up in this apartment and my head will be resting someplace else. i'm pretty sure that everyone i live with is viewing this time as a countdown...something you look forward to...like a 21st birthday, or a vacation, or like the elaborate countdowns i would make in college that outlined the last week of finals. i should've saved my freshman edition...that shit was ridiculous. and very sad, because i was basically counting down every second until i could leave campus and escape from everyone. that was a definite low point for me. it scares me to admit to myself that there are similarities between then and now.

just another chimp

wheels = power

and by "wheels" i mean having a car. i curse myself now because i should've known after going four years without a car in college that this situation was going to eventually weigh down on me. i am so sick of asking to borrow my roommates cars. i don't go to half the places i'd like to go either because there simply is no car for me to use at the time or i feel like i am putting someone else at an inconvenience just by asking. how i miss my little red focus.

i am beginning to grasp the immense freedom and ultimately power that the "key holders" of the house possess. freedom because that's exactly what you feel when you get behind the wheel, and power because, well, freedom is power people! i've been analyzing my own behavior and the results are sad.

i'll suppress my own emotions in order to secure a ride to the grocery store. i'll let events that really irritate me roll off my shoulders instead because how can i exchange unpleasantries with a roommate one second and then ask to borrow their car the next? doesn't work in theory and doesn't work in practice. it's the worst. thought about seeing a movie tonight (by myself, of course) but couldn't because one owner is out to dinner and the other is a person i can't even stomach to look at right now. if only i could speak completely freely about my living situation...if only you could see through my honest eyes...i should really call it "decomposing" situation rather than "living" because i don't feel like i am alive here. i feel like i am on guard, or on a battlefield, walking on the toes of my feet to avoid the grenades that lay hidden underneath the carpet.

it was in one of my latter college psychology courses that i studied how chimpanzees compete with one another to gain access to resources, may those be in the form of food. or territory. or sex. and you know what? it's the same for us humans. it's that simple. each day marks another attempt to secure the resources that we--and those who depend on us--need for survival, nourishment, and fulfillment. for some, that resource may be higher on the pyramid, like securing that reservation at the new swanky restaurant in town. for those who live a simpler life, that resource may just be being able to take a drive to accomplish something that fills us with joy...which takes me back to where i started: those who have access to resources hold the power, and vice versa.

and in this scenario, i'm without question the weakest, most sex-deprived chimp of the pack.

i gotta confess: yoga, as i saw it, was always on the same page as almond milk drinking, "love and peace" tattoo wearing kind of people. not for me. not something i would enjoy or benefit from. well well well, four days into a free and unlimited trial week at a yoga studio and i am changing my tune. my attitude has changed to accommodate my behavior (you win again, cognitive dissonance theory). namaste. down, dog!

too strong

i'm going to try very, very hard to never go to work hungover again. actually pulling yourself out of bed and doing anything the morning after a long night out is mentally and physically exhausting--unless, of course, the place you are going involves you and a beautiful pancake soaking up your alcohol. but my restaurant doesn't even serve pancakes, and all i wanted to do during my eight hour shift (yes, eight fucking hours. you'd think i'd have my own office) was shove a parfait spoon into my eye. and then quit. or be fired because i was blind and bloody, whichever came first.

it is a an extremely dangerous thing to go to work hungover when you are a waitress because every stressor is amplified. every request from a customer that much more annoying. and you end up consuming a lot of bread that you didn't need. on a normal day, i probably wouldn't have been so royally pissed off when the only thing between me and freedom was a broom which was already being used to sweep the entire kitchen. on a normal day, i most likely wouldn't have wanted to slap the co-worker who scolded how i executed possibly the most vital component of any successful enterprise: marrying the jams. if you're unfamiliar with restaurant jargon, "marrying" of anything--usually condiments---just means combining the contents of two (or more) less than full containers to make one full container. i know...heavy stuff.

but i haven't even told you the most dangerous part of being a hungover server: the urge to quit is too strong. too strong because you can't afford to quit and you need this job to survive. your head grows enormous with thoughts like, "i went to college for four years so i could clean up after people's messes?" stop it! STOP IT! you can't quit. everything will be better when you don't feel like a truck ran into your face. everything will be better tomorrow, you'll see...

in case you were wondering, that chick carrying the beverages is me.

g a p s

i’ve had my fair share of "i can't live like this" moments. a white cube with a refrigerator-sized cut out for storage space isn't exactly "in style" now. neither is a mound of clothes chillin' in the corner, unless that's what's featured in this months edition of graduated and broke (does this publication exist? if so, are they currently taking applications!?).

but then again, is it really "i can't live like this" or "i don't want to live like this"? because i am, in fact, living like this. and the truth of the matter is that it is by choice. nobody forced me to move across the country and bunk with three friends. i guess part of being on your own is figuring out what things are important to you and what things you feel you can live without. i'm figuring out that having a shelf someday is important to me. and maybe a drawer that isn't made of plastic.

to avoid making this entry read like one long, sad complaint, i'm going to view my situation as the case study by which other twenty-somethings undulating between moments of desperation and frustration can learn from and relate to. how admirable of me...

have you asked yourself these questions: how do i want to live? how am i supposed to live? and i am referring to your physical surroundings, which obviously impact your psychological and emotional well-being. most of you reading this blog have--by whatever reason--left the nest with the hardwood floors, the wicker basket full of catalogs, and the cabinet doors that shut oh so quietly. whether you work a nine to five job and can afford a nicer place or work in the service industry like myself, we all cannot match what our parents have...what we have left behind in search of "independence" and all that crap. maybe you even try to mimic the material things that you are used to. if the answer is "yes", don't be ashamed. the comfort that material possessions can provide is no major breakthrough, and as long as it is done within your financial means, i see no major problem with it.

my point is that i believe all us twenty-somethings try to fill in the gaps made by our change in environment and lifestyle. for instance, my brother, twenty-six, just moved out (for the third time) in the last month and was already feeling less than enthused after just a few nights in the new pad. he has an apartment all to himself, but without the whistles and bells. he immediately felt that he needed more "stuff" to fill the place, and after decorating the walls with art and memorabilia, he began to feel a lot better about his situation. one of the ways in which i fill the gaps is through the food that i buy. when the sliding doors at whole foods open up for me, i'm overcome with a sense of comfort, joy, and a little entitlement. nobody knows that i don't have a mattress when i'm sifting through avocados right beside them.

granted i can only afford to fill up half my shopping basket (my purse conveniently taking up the other half), that's enough for now. my wine glass may be stolen from the beverly wilshire hotel, but if i can enjoy a glass of cab and a wedge of cheese from "whole paycheck", i'm doing alright.

tell us, how do YOU fill in the gaps?

dreamgirl

i ran on the beach today, and lately, i haven't been able to make it past the manhattan pier. shy of just half a mile, the cool, dark presence of the pier signals my body to stop. and so i do. i stand under the shadows just inches from where the waves break while i plan the next segment of my workout.

but today my legs carried me. they were moving--nay, hauling. this time i not only let the cool shadows of the manhattan pier pass over me but i didn't stop until the hermosa pier was behind me either. i was honestly impressed with my stamina and wondered if the banana pancakes i had made for myself for lunch was the real hero.

as i made my way back towards manhattan, a vivid daydream began to form...

i was sitting face-to-face with the beach volleyball trainer who i have worked with only once so far...coffee shop (are you surprised?)...telling her that i was willing to keep chipping away at my savings account...that if she wanted me to be at the beach at 3 a.m., i would bring a flashlight...that she didn't have to be my friend, or even like me...all she had to do was train me. hard. the words came out of my mouth: i want to sell my soul to you. and what would i get in return? no regrets. the feeling that i pushed myself as hard as i could go...the peace of mind that only comes after knowing in your heart that you gave it your all.

(it gets better...)

after listening to my proposition, she says that she wants a representation of my soul. something tangible. (and i'm still running on the beach mind you). i've got it. i'll give her the corona beer cap that i have saved from one of my very first tournaments last summer. it was the tournament that i realized i wanted to be a professional volleyball player. at least, i wanted to try. i'll give her that as a representation of my soul.

see how powerful a workout can be? my point is this: i could be daydreaming about anything. sitting on clouds with nutella in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other...finding a wad of cash hidden beneath a clump of bushes...strutting around in my sleek jcrew get-up in my swanky corporate workplace...yet my number one recurring daydream--above all others--is me playing in big-time beach volleyball tournaments in front of my family and friends. on some level, doesn't this mean that i am doing the right thing?

i never, EVER care to read my horoscope or take seriously the pseudo-scientific predictions. i see them as space eaters in magazines and even divert my eyes from the newspaper cut-out that my local starbucks posts daily. just not for me. but i can't help it if they deceivingly find their way into an e-mail of mine about career opportunities in the area:

Gemini [May 21 - June 21]
You kind of feel like you are hiding your light right now, waiting for an opportunity to jump out into the spotlight and share your talents with a wider audience. You might have some "leg-work" to do - travel, research and paperwork may frustrate you but it is necessary.

okay, i have to admit. this one is DEAD ON. i was quite surprised by how accurate this two-sentence blurb is to my present life. the good thing is that i am recognizing my need to do the leg-work--figuratively and physically--because in less than an hour i will be attending my very first beach volleyball training session...right after i watch the 2010 annual hot dog eating contest. the perfect way to kick off the fourth of july.

happy birthday america :)

craig, so nice to see you again!

actually, i'm not happy to see craig again. we ended on a frustrating note back in april and haven't spoken/e-mailed/texted since. so i'm not surprised to find that he and his list have nothing promising to show me right now.

that is, nothing that would crack a hopeful grin on my face. all i want is to live in a nice, clean, and furnished house or apartment with a few other girls who are about my age...who are outgoing, explorative, and independent yet can be found on most nights of the week perfectly content sharing a bottle of wine with me on our comfy living room couch...a place for about 700 a month, including all utilities, cable, and internet...a pad complete with a washer/dryer and a place that does not tolerate toilet paper rolls as living room decor. oh yes, and it must be just steps from the beach. okay, i'll settle for a "short walk" to the beach. is that so hard to ask for? maybe in a dream world. but here on planet reality, it's challenging to find anything shy of $900/month that wouldn't resemble a college freshman dorm room.

i must say, there are some folks offering up some pretty interesting living situations out there...take, for instance, the single-mom who is offering "cheap rent" in exchange for some childcare on the side. i was curious. i clicked. then i decided that i didn't want to babysit a seven year-old every weekend.

craig, we need to talk.

i don't feel like you are listening to my needs.

i need you to be more giving if this relationship is ever going to work.

let's give eachother some space...you'll hear from me on monday.

city of angels

i have a problem:

i don't know what to tell you.

i have SO much to tell you that i don't know where to start, or where to end, or where to pick up from where we left off.

maybe it's my surroundings...the music they are playing at borders right now makes me want to go into the bathroom and cry. and i'm distracted because i'm worried that the coconut milk i just bought and left in the car is on the pathway to destruction. and it's a bit drafty in here...

no. you know what? these are all excuses. the problem lies with me. all the stuff that is circling through my head is just scary and confusing and i'm being lazy by not sorting through it. so i'm just one scared, confused, and lazy person right now. those qualities do not make for a good combination. i need to be fearless, have a clear mind, and have a zealous swagger. especially considering what i am up against:

come august 9th, four will become one. that is the day that my three compadres will hit route 40 and not look back. i'll be the girl in the driveway, standing there amongst her boxed-up possessions, and giving her best poker face.

as you can see, i have a lot of details to figure out. like who am i going to live with? and where? can i be happy in this part of the country, away from family and some of the closest relationships i have built over the years? can i survive on just a waitressing paycheck in the city of angels? i don't know why they call it that, but i was visited by a few angels just the other day. they happened to be a married couple who i was waiting on at my restaurant, and over the course of their meal, i had revealed to them (in short) my intention to not let this city "chew me and spit me out". along with the bill and tip, they left me this:

a good luck sentiment paper-clipped to a five dollar bill that, for me, holds more value than any five dollar bill i've ever held. when and on what i'll spend it? that i can't tell you, but their gesture made my day, and it reminded me that there are angels in this city. you just have to allow yourself to be touched by one.