...my sister's response to "knock, knock"...

knock, knock

australian shiraz cabernet circa 2008, fresh batch of blackberries, chocolate chips...another romantic night with myself. it's written on the wall,

i need a boy.

and the only way that is going to happen for me is if i drop the excuses:

i have work in the morning.

i have to train tomorrow.

i don't have the money to spend on drinks.

there's only going to be douchebags out.

i don't want to lose my inhibitions and order french fries from the bar at 1 a.m. (like last time).

there's probably something good on t.v.

i don't want to feel "bleh" the next day.

or--my personal favorite--i really could use some alone time.

b-a-c-k the mother-fuckin truck up. "alone time?" this is the best excuse because i spend more than enough time starring in my own me, myself and i sitcom. it's sad when people can't enjoy their own company, but i take it a little too far.

so, in conclusion, i need to drop all the excuses and put myself out there because no one's going to be knockin' on my door. that would just be creepy.

fallen

9:45 a.m. 8.14.2010 this morning

my bundle of new york times says that it is sunday…honda under state scrutiny…a rare disorder, a rarer debate…who’s teaching our kids? hello, world, nice to see that not much has changed.

but in my little world, much has. on friday, the avp announced that the rest of the season is canceled and that they are uncertain about the tours future in the years to come. that news trickles all the way down the competitive ladder, from the top players in the world who take home sizeable earnings to the married moms who play just a few tournaments for kicks. and then there’s me, a young, inexperienced player acting like a sponge to all the talent and knowledge that surrounds this town.

but what am i supposed to think? the avp—the pinnacle of all aspiring, admiring beach volleyball players and enthusiasts—has fallen. i’m not going to sit here and say that the dream of stamping my footprint on that center court sand hasn’t been the driving force behind my move to california, but i’m also not going to say that i would consider myself a failure if that never happened for me. i would consider it a huge personal success if i advanced to just the second day of a professional tournament—not an easy feat. but now that the future of the sport is so cloudy, i can’t help but see my dreams fill up with clouds themselves. do i begin to alter my dreams and expectations? or have i already been doing this subconsciously? is it time to take myself out for a drink and seriously evaluate how i am going to handle the cards that have been dealt? luckily i have my family to lean on and help me to sort all of this out—they are visiting in just a few days.

for now, i’ll be perfectly at ease with my cup of coffee and "fresh from the pan" cinnamon banana pancake. like the sunday headlines, not much has changed.

so i guess three months is the time it takes for a girl like me, fresh face in the city of los angeles, to regularly practice yoga poses and send in their first headshot to a casting agency.

who have i become?

details later--there is an apron a mile away that is calling my name...

personal check? check.

today is a "dear diary" moment because i am licking the envelope containing my very first rent check. now listen, the rent money has been coming out of my pocket this whole time, but always in a screwy manner. i've been either withdrawing the cash from my bank account and handing over the payment like i just sold a couple ounces of weed, or my dad and i will do an elaborate dance with our funds where we end up with a check in his name. those days are in the past because i am a big girl now who has my own personal checks with my name on them. i still had to call my sister to confirm whether or not i had to sign the check, but other than that you wouldn't be able to tell my rookie check from that of a veteran...what with my eloquent cursive writing ending in the "0/100 cents" (thanks grandpa). very nice...i'm all grown up! well, i take that back. turns out i'm still powerless against a spider and look for daddy to save me. and so one more spider lives to see another day; however, i did find out that sitting on the toilet with both feet up is a good abdominal exercise.

"once mature and dry, disengages from the root and tumbles away in the wind"

because thesaurus.com doesn't turn anything up when i type in "orgasmic", ya'll are just going to have to deal with my analogy: today was an amazingly orgasmic sunday. it began as every day should: waking up to sunlight pouring through the window. still, i let myself stay in bed for another hour just because. then i journeyed two small flights of stairs for a breakfast date with the couple who live above me--coffee, fruit, and the kind of muffins where the "top" overflows the "muffin" (irresistible on your plate, not around a female's mid-section). i quickly learn that they are genuinely nice new yorkers...the conversation so enjoyable i almost ask what's for lunch. but i couldn't stay. i had already made plans for the remainder of my day, which revolved around attending a few classes at the yoga studio i am now a member of. so i hopped on my bike and hit the strand, pedaling amongst petite, lululemon loyal joggers, couples with their starbucks in one hand and leashes in the other, and fellow cyclists either decked out in spandex or toting their small children along for the ride. note: this is a unique sunday morning crowd. anyways, four miles later and i'm a proud owner of my own yoga mat--lime green!--and undergoing a challenging pilates workout. namaste and it's time for some grub, so i decide to treat myself to an over-priced but delicious baja fiesta salad at one of the eateries i have been wanting to try ever since i moved out here. after filling out a customer survey (for which my birthday is stated as being just two weeks from now...shut it, i'm not the only one playing this game), i practically skipped to whole foods where i proceeded to take a leisurely lap sampling various fruits and cheeses. and yes, i'm one of those people who holds no shame in assembling their own cheese-kabob.

and then i started thinking about how my day was so blatantly revolved around, well...me. everything was carefully thought out to please...muah, your highness. the exercise, the meal, the cheese sampling--even the new mad men episode i just finished watching--was all meant to make myself feel good, inside and out. soooo, maybe when all these people tell me that "you're so young" and "this is the time in your life to be doing what you're doing" what they are really saying is, "this is the only time in your life when you can be completely selfish and get away with it". i mean, am i right? no career to tie me down, no significant other to make "we" decisions with, no home to make payments on, no kids to place above everything else, no pets to care for, no car to maintain, no--wait a second, this list depicting my lack of obligations is starting to backfire...i'm suddenly acutely aware of my solitary existence...like i'm looking in the mirror and a tumbleweed is staring back at me.

here i go

goodbye manhattan, hello hermosa.

goodbye sardine can, hello space.

goodbye floor, hello mattress.

goodbye espn, hello anything i want to watch.

goodbye toilet with a pack of matches, hello just a toilet.

goodbye covered in a towel, hello naked.

goodbye tension, hello fresh air.

goodbye old friends, hello new friends.

goodbye last chapter in my life, hello new chapter.

aqlcb

alright, the paragraph that i posted yesterday is what we call an "acute quarter-life crisis breakdown". aqlcb. not the best acronym out there, but i challenge anyone to prove me wrong. you see, for us young adults between the ages of twenty and thirty, it is my understanding that 99% of us are stuck on this theme-park ride where "nothing really feels wrong yet nothing really feels right either". the worst part is that you have to go on the ride by yourself and thus constantly feel as if you are the only person being thrust left and right and upside-down. but in reality, you are not alone, for there are thousands upon thousands of young adults out there stuck on this same torturous ride. what happened while i was at starbucks yesterday was that i suddenly receded back to that feeling that i am alone and confused and without a seatbelt in this world. anything can trigger this acute breakdown; in my case, it was words like "square-footage" from a lady who i perceived to "have it all". she was planning her dream home, and i was getting ready to clean up after people's messes. that's how i simplified and compared my life with this complete stranger's life, triggering an army of "who am i?" and "what am i doing?" questions. that was my monday aqlcb.

and then i went to work waiting on tables and cleaning after people's messes. as business got slower, i had more time to get to know one of my co-workers (who also happens to be a beach volleyball player). by the time we had both clocked out, i discovered that she and i were more similar than i could have imagined. i told her i was without a car and she told me that she had been without a car for eight months when she first moved here. she's actually staying at a friends place right now (a.k.a. couch surfing) and living out of her car. and she, like me, doesn't have a career but rather works part-time jobs and continues to pursue her hobbies. my deflated and isolated self was being pumped with positivity and a sense of companionship--like when you go for a walk on the beach and notice all the footprints stamped into the sand from people who have already treaded the path that

you are just getting started on. truth is, this girl has struggled far more in her life than i have...doesn't see her sister often and lost her mother to cancer not five years ago. i had already looked up to her, but after hearing more of her life story, i think she has grown a few extra inches. though a strong, confident woman, even she is not immune to her battle scars that lead to moments of weakness. tears were shed when the pain from losing her mother had no place to go but resurface, and in that instant she only grew more strong in my eyes. i've spent the last five minutes typing and re-typing words to try and explain how this happens, but i can't.

so the next time i have an aqlcb (because please, that is inevitable), i'll let myself indulge in my moment of weakness but come out of it quicker than before because i know that i am not alone. correction, we are not alone.

i interrupt the babysitting tales to ask myself, "what am i doing with my life?" here i am at starbucks, sitting in between a lady peacefully reading a book on my right and a lady who is going over her house plans with either the builder or architect. man, she is talking about light fixtures. and kitchen sinks. she is building her own home. that is my ultimate dream in life. i saw my parents go through the painful but incredibly rewarding process, and i want that for myself someday...when i have a family to fill the house. far, far away from that picture is me, in manhattan beach, about to be left by three of my closest friends (well, we used to be the closest four-some out there, but things have changed). what the hell am i doing? i am a waitress. i am now a babysitter. i train, but i haven't competed in weeks and that feels like months. it feels horrible. i came here to play. to compete. not to have friendships grow weaker with every sunrise and self-doubt invade my daily thoughts. people come and they say, "oh, you're young! this is the time in your life to be doing this." do what? what is it that i am doing?

tiny tears

remember when i said to never go to work as a waiter/waitress hungover? well, that scenario has met its match: babysitting while hungover. brutal. on top of making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch and mac n cheese for dinner, i also managed to make the two kids i was watching cry. the first was because i said his drawing of an elephant looked more like a rat--totally my fault, but lesson learned that i have got to be more sensitive around these tikes. his exit from our drawing game was truly fascinating: hides his face, head to the table, takes refuge on a nearby couch while playing with apps on his itouch. remember the days when simply retreating to a corner would suffice a child's hurt ego? now let me paint for you the second tear-jerker: me and little girl literally playing tug-o-war with a frozen, chocolate-covered banana. i had already let her walk all over me with her consumption of the medium-sized frappuccino, a chocolate madeleine, and cocoa shavings (don't ask)...i was NOT going to let her eat that damn banana!

coffee bean is literally closing now...have to continue this tale tomorrow...