they take your money

sometimes you receive advice from the unlikeliest of places…

while shooting the shit with one of my good family friends (andy, we’ll call him), who also happens to be my older brother’s best friend, the conversation turned to volleyball. specifically, i shared with him how challenging the transition from playing on the east coast to playing on the west coast has been. the sheer talent here is just greater than anywhere else. the best of the best flock to southern california and, even though i knew this coming in, competing against the best is different than anticipating competing with the best. why? because they take your money. and sometimes your self-esteem…the heightened competition forces you to look deep within yourself and ask, “how bad do i really want it?” i was winning on one side of the country and here i am losing on the other. the flip-side, of course, is that you get better playing against better people—at least, that’s what’s supposed to happen.

anyhow, i was surprised by how easy it was for andy to relate to my situation, seeing as his love lies in cards. twenty-six and fresh from finishing his service in the army, andy flew to las vegas to play poker. he’s been an avid player for years, building upon his skills and gaining experience mostly through online gaming. after listening to my california woes, he told me that he went through a similar realization during his vegas trip. while on the east coast, he could play cards on yachts and clean house, but going to sin city was a whole different ball game. the best players from all over the world come to vegas to play high stakes poker, which i realized is just as intimidating to him as all the talented beach volleyball players are to me. different game, same concept. and in both, they take your money!

i’ve never considered myself the gambling type. sure, there was that one time in atlantic city when i didn’t return to the hotel until 5 a.m. from playing blackjack, but that was with someone else’s money. big difference. you know, i don’t think you need chips to be a gambler. our lives are like a string of poker games. we are dealt a hand and must place our bet with only the information that is right in front of us: our present. should i take this opportunity? should i go there to be with him? should i quit? forget about six months from now. forget about the cards that the other players are holding. you can only control the hand you’ve been dealt, and it takes knowing yourself--and a little leap of faith--to just make the best call that you can with the information that you have at any given moment in your life. it’s really that simple.

no one can tell you when to call and when to fold besides you. and that’s my lesson for the day.

somebody

mac.mac.dell.mac.fujitsu.mac.no idea.mac.

that's today's laptop lineup, as seen from my view on the first floor of the coffee bar in san francisco. there they all are...perched like birds on a streetlight wire. what are they working on? who's facebook album are they snooping through to avoid doing work? i can't help but wonder. what if each of them had a thought bubble over their heads that reveled what they did for a living. entrepreneur. gossip columnist. blogger who wishes they were getting paid for their writing. alright kids, what'll it be? would you rather walk on water, posses the gift of flight, or be able to see the thought bubbles over anyone's head? i guess your answer depends on a lot of things. like whether or not you genuinely enjoy getting up in the morning to go do whatever it is that you do to pay the rent. or whether or not you have a fear of heights.

"all my life i've wanted to be somebody, but i see now i should've been more specific."

found this quote (circa the famous playwright jane wagner) in the september issue of oprah magazine and it really made me stop and think. i want to be somebody, but the phrase be somebody is actually a very vague concept. that homeless person i saw riding his bike in manhattan beach--wearing the most amazing duct tape and cardboard helmet ever--is somebody. the chick eating her soup directly across from me is somebody. those alcatraz inmates from back in the day who were known worldwide for their vicious crimes were all somebody. so what exactly do we mean when we tell ourselves that we want to be somebody--to make something of ourselves? is the end result fame? fortune? a colony of followers? a house with a yard? a trophy of some sort? a corner office?

maybe our twenty-somethings is a great time to explore the word "somebody" and discover what it means to you--and you and you and you--personally. your idea may be entirely different from mine, thus making the paths we take in life different. i mean, if i imagine the kind of human being i want to be someday, won't that help me to make the right decisions today that lead me down the right path? maybe. after all, it's not a science.

obviously none of us have a crystal ball, but i think--i hope--that each of us has an idea of the kind of person we want to become, regardless of the line of work we end up choosing for ourselves. so before you tell yourself that you want to be somebody someday, figure out what that entails for you. otherwise, i know a great way to save on a bike helmet.

compass

flying lax to sfo, beats blaring in my bright purple headphones, and i almost feel like a rock star. i’d be taking a swig of beer right now if i hadn’t foolishly eaten those five slices of bread before i left. i just can’t resist the pure goodness that is bread—and now i am paying for the binge.

so why leave l.a. for the yay (area)? to see my sister. my 5’8’’ compass. i have faith that this trip is going to help clear the haze—haze, as in that cloudy, restless state of mind that makes you feel like it’s maybe time to get glasses (or screw on a new brain, whichever your insurance covers). i’m going to feel rejuvinated, re-focused…and wow, captain says we are on our initial descent. already!? i was just getting the party started. guess i’ll have to continue this train of thought atop the most comfortable mattress in the world: my sisters’.

…signing off…9:10 p.m…

…signing on…12:28 a.m…

it’s even more comfortable than i had imagined, if that’s even possible. blinds are being drawn as we speak (as if by some miracle the sun is going to bless the city of san francisco).

since it’s technically friday, i’ll say that today is a new day. i’m wishing for outlandishly good coffee, a satisfying yoga class, and sisterly bonding capable of fighting crime.

goodnight.

what's more nauseating: waitressing or babysitting?

in both, you put on a good face while being at someone's beck and call.

lucky for me, i get to live in the best of both worlds.

week one

this entry, "week one", is taken from a blog i stumbled upon called life without pants.

it's short, simple, and pure...just the kind of thoughts you want circling inside your pretty little head when you roll out of bed to start your day. i like.

24hours ago football fans everywhere were waking up to a sunrise that was that much more beautiful. We stepped out of bed, showered, threw on our favorite jersey, gathered with friends, and prepared to watch our favorite team step onto the field for the first time of the year.

Week one is a beautiful time for football fans and football players everywhere. Despite all of the off-season talk, despite who is ‘supposed’ to win and lose, every fan everywhere possesses one thing…Hope.

We’re hopeful that the pundits and critics are wrong, that this year is “our” year, that our team has the ability to surprise everyone and win it all.

It illustrates a greater point that goes beyond football, or sports in general.

Nothing matters until you actually get out there and play the game.

All the talk, all the doubt and questioning – it means absolutely nothing. The only thing that matters is how you perform.

Every day should be lived like week one of the season. Every day is the moment before you run out of the tunnel and take the field to play the game. With the mentality that you can succeed, regardless of the circumstances and adversity stacked against you.

It may fit into the category of ‘easier said than done’ but honestly, the easiest thing is to just go out there and, metaphorically speaking, ‘play the game’.

What’s ahead of you today? It’s week one, hopes are high, go get the “W”…

cruise

i gotta say...

not having a car can be a real blessing.

uhhh let me rephrase that:

not having a car--but having a bike--can be a real blessing.

if you hop on that seat and forget about that nagging concept we call "time", bikes are like an extension of your curious side. on foot, you are limited a great deal by how far your legs can take you. behind the wheel, you are prisoner to every traffic sign, every moving object, and you can forget about crossing that solid line. but on a bike? just right. that's right, goldilocks.

it is possibly the only time when i free myself from planning my next move in advance—a very difficult feat for a person who knows what they are having for breakfast the night before (i heart you calender). but there i was, turning left on poinsetta and then right on duncan. when you pedal through the hills of manhattan and hermosa beach you inevitably pass two things: block after block of breathtaking homes and, like flies to a flame, hispanic landscapers.

so take it from a carless los angelite like myself and hang up the keys. go find a bike and explore your city on foot. you may be surprised at what you discover.

shoe shopping

i hate hate hate my last post.

it was short. it was shallow. i can't imagine that anyone who unfortunately read it could take away anything meaningful from it, and i wish i could give you those thirty seconds of your life back.

it's what i would refer to as a cowardly post...a collection of sentences that contain feelings and thoughts with no attempt at finding a resolution.

so i should "cowboy up", as my good friend says. damnit, face the music!

alright, alright...i'm afraid to fail. are you happy?

social. i pass up invitations to hang out with people because i'm afraid that if i don't have a good time the evening would just be a failure and prevent future hangouts. physical. i can be very reluctant and nervous to play volleyball with certain individuals because if i don't perform than i'm that failure on the court. this has lead me to opt out of competing in recent tournaments on the basis that saving thirty dollars (and an afternoon) is better than the thought of losing. aspirational. i convince myself that i am "too tired" or not in "the right creative mood" to generate ideas relating to this blog and where i aspire to take it because if i pursue an idea that idea could ultimately fail.

(this pretty much makes me the last person on earth who should give a motivational speech right now, doesn't it? just checking.)

aside from the obvious pitfall, that being the inability to take an idea or goal and run with it, the fear of failure basically screws with your sense of motivation. for instance, am i no longer paying a coach for training sessions because they don't serve as much value to me in this point in time or because i don't want to under-perform? are my actions a result of my own fears or are they honest signs that i truly don't want to be pursuing something? my own p.i., as in polish influence--my new friend/older sister figure who just so happens to be polish like me--would say that we are afraid of our own greatness. so forget about failure, maybe it's our potential to be great that we are so afraid of...that i am so afraid of. how does that shoe fit? i'm not sure which i would rather walk in, but i'm guessing that either way i need to find me a new pair of shoes.

do any of these scream "i am limitless" or should i go with something with a little more heel?

coming back

september 9th, really?

the back-to-school shrines already disheveled and in ruins on market shelves.

the brisk afternoons where warm soup feels like the only thing that can bring the body back to life. or slowly bring it into hibernation mode, as is the case with my life right now.

why do i feel like being under my comforter is the safest place to be?

why do i insist on hiding from the world?

right now i'm sitting on my living room couch, with federer up two sets in his quarter-final match, and all i can think about is returning to this couch after i play volleyball for a few hours. i'm going to the beach to go play volleyball and all i can think about is coming back? this doesn't make sense.

i like people.

i like volleyball.

i'd chose to be outside rather than inside any day.

so why am i behaving like this?

i think i know why.