A Little Fall of Rain

Stormy weather is hitting the Golden State and showers are in effect across Los Angeles. It's the first real rain I've seen since relocating to sunny SoCal. In a way, it makes me feel closer to home - closer to the damp autumns seen in the San Francisco area. I miss it. This time last year, I was constantly in the city every week. San Francisco is so beautiful in the fall.

I've always despised the rain - until now. I'm not exactly a huge fan of the cold or the wind or the wetness. I prefer the sun, but who doesn't? The rain can be so depressing sometimes. That's the key word - can. Really, the rain is whatever you make of it. Make the best of it.

Tuesdays are the days I usually run all of my errands. Groceries. Mail. Prescriptions. You get the point. This particular Tuesday, I had to return something at the Apple Store in Santa Monica. The whole return process took about 5 minutes - but I have a crush on Santa Monica so I didn't just want to leave so soon after arriving. I shopped around. Walked all along the 3rd street promenade. It wasn't enough.

The streets of Santa Monica were somewhat empty, most likely due to the weather. I found that this vacancy gave me the opportunity to enjoy the location in solitude and self-reflection. So naturally, I went for a walk. I'm not really that crazy for wanting to walk in the rain. It's just a little water. A little spontaneity. It's always good to do something spontaneous and original every once in a while - it keeps you, well, you. My destination was set: the end of the Santa Monica Pier.

I was one of the only people walking to the pier, everyone seemed to be leaving. As I passed the deserted rides and cafes, it began to pour - it was magnificent. Everyone had their umbrellas or ponchos or hooded windbreakers - and if they didn't, they were running for cover. That is, everyone except me. I was soaked and it was uncomfortable at first, but I couldn't just stop and give up and turn around like the rest of them. I walked to the end. I walked to the very end of the pier and I stopped and watched the ocean. Talk about self-discovery. Self-discovery I can't even describe in detail. Stormy sky and waters seem depressing and angry to so many people, but this was one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen. I felt each drop of rain on my face and I stood there and took it in and reveled in how amazing it is to be alive, to witness the artistry of nature, to feel rain. There is always beauty and life in every storm, we just have to look for it.

It made me think, what kind of person will I be when it rains? Will I run for cover and complain about it, or will I dance in it? Valuing life isn't only about appreciating the good times and the sunshine, but it is about seeing the good that comes from the storm and running with it.

You've gotta have rain to make a rainbow...

Without rain, nothing would grow.

Raising The Stakes

As cheesy as it may sound, ever since I was a little girl, I've wanted to make movies. I wanted to be an actor. I wanted to be a director. I wanted to make costumes. I wanted to write. I wanted to do it all. I still want to do it all and that is exactly what I'm currently trying to do... sort of. I wish that film majors had an acting specialty, but since there isn't one, I decided to major in theatre. Now, I love the theatre - I'm especially enthralled by the history of theatre in ancient Greek and Roman times. But my passion is film, and it is in film where I want to make my career as well as my craft.

I'm enrolled in a scene study course at my university, instructed by Graham Beckel, the actor. I'd consider him a successful Hollywood actor, seeing as he's been in a plethora of projects such as Brokeback Mountain, Pearl Harbor, and a ton of guest spots on different television shows. Anyways, I respect him immensely not only as an actor, but as a teacher. He is incredibly badass - I've never met anyone like him. So anyway, I'm in the most fun class on campus, right? And we've done monologues and we're just beginning our scenes with our partners and from the beginning he's always said this one phrase and it's really becoming embedded in my brain:

"It's not the line, it's the life."

It's not the line... it's the life. Words of wisdom that couldn't be more true. In class today, we watched that scene from Sophie's Choice. You know the scene. The scene everybody hates watching because it is so incredibly painful. Graham likes to call it the "cumshot" of the whole

movie. Yeah, that scene. So the lines in the scene that the godly Meryl Streep says are pretty basic (even though they're in German). It's pretty much "no, I can't choose, don't make me choose, blah, blah, blah." I mean, I don't think I'm wrong in saying that's not exactly complex... Anyway, I cry every single time I watch it. And it's not because of the lines - it's because of the life. I can feel the horror and the drama of the situation because Meryl Streep is so honest and real. Like, this woman is being forced to choose which of her children lives and which one dies. FUCK, it's so intense. And the stakes are so high - which brings up another lesson of the wise Mr. Beckel - raising the stakes.

The stakes are pretty much what make a scene. It's like that whole über-want thing. Nothing is casual. If it's casual, it's boring, and who is going to watch something that is boring? Nobody, that's who. So, stakes must be raised. I'm working on this scene right now from John Patrick Shanley's "Savage in Limbo." It's sort of funny, but super intense. My scene partner is a friend of mine and she's playing Linda. After an extreme rough draft performance of our scene, we kept being reminded of the stakes. The stakes. And Linda's stakes are pretty simple, I think. She just has to keep her boyfriend because that's all that really matters and blah, blah, blah. I, however, am playing Denise Savage and I think her stakes are a little bit more complicated. So that's what I need to do - figure out what her stakes are and raise them.

In this particular scene, Denise - a loud woman in the Bronx - reveals to her old classmate Linda that she is still a virgin. But the stakes aren't just that she wants to lose her virginity - it's nowhere near that simple. She needs to succeed in a relationship. Every single relationship she's ever had has clearly never had any success because if it did, she would've lost her virginity eventually, right?

And she states that she wasn't holding out for just some guy, and the option has always been there for her to lose it and she doesn't want to take that road. So clearly, the sex isn't the real problem - the problem is her inability to have a successful relationship. Also in the scene, she basically admits that she doesn't have many friends and is not very good at friendships - so it's not just successful romantic relationships she is failing at, but friendships as well. Now, my problem is figuring out what her stakes are in this scene. From my perspective, she doesn't have anything to lose until later in the play. She doesn't have any real friends and her love life is non-existent. The only real thing is that she has all of these emotions about ideas and love and her emptiness and has never expressed them and they're finally coming out. But why are her stakes so high? Maybe they're high because she's finally opening up to someone she hasn't been very close with? She's finally sharing herself with someone, which could be something she's been unable to do in the past, and a reason why she's had so many failed relationships. She practically barricades herself in her apartment with her sick mother - hiding from the real world and real relationships. I feel like I can understand her frustrations but I'm having trouble with the stakes because I don't see that she has anything to lose. Maybe she's afraid to lose herself?

I've gotta raise the stakes. I think I need to raise the stakes in life too - but that's an area far too complex for me to even dive into right now.

It's not the line, it's the life.

Living With Panic Disorder

It's been months since I first started this blog, and I never knew what it was going to become. I guess I assumed people would actually read it, or a common theme would come out of it. Maybe it just became a public outlet for me to write. Though it may not look like it on here, I actually write a lot. Almost daily.

I have a book. It's my book. Some people might call it a journal or a diary and maybe it is. I mean, that is what it is, but I don't like calling it that. It sounds incredibly childish and superficial and stupid. It's not like "Dear Diary, this is my super secret crush blah, blah, blah..." or anything. Well, that's a lie. Of course I write about love and my romantic endeavors and fantasies, but I write about everything. I write about it all. I write about the things I could never tell a soul, things so painful that just thinking about them now brings tears to my eyes. I draw little pictures. I scribble when I'm angry. I doodle when I'm in love. It's my book. It's my book. Sometimes, I feel like it has powers of its own and it knows things I don't. Things about life; about the whole universe. I've put so many emotions, so many stories and so much of myself onto its pages that this book has honestly become a part of me. When the pages are full, I will start a new book, but it has been about four years, and it isn't full yet. It's a big book.

I guess part of the reason my book is so important is because I have panic disorder. Over the years, I've been diagnosed with a myriad of little messy psychological disturbances, but panic disorder is the one that has been in full swing for a while. I've learned that writing (like this) calms me down tremendously. It's a way that I can let out every emotion and every thought - thoughts and emotions I can't necessarily say out loud or share with the public - which is why my book is so important. However, there are a lot of things I don't have a problem with sharing - I don't have too many secrets. So, since I'm doing my best to currently come down from an attack, I'm writing here and discussing my issue. Take it or leave it.

To begin, what is panic disorder? Well, to my understanding, panic disorder is an anxiety disorder. When you have panic disorder, you get frequent panic attacks - some are random, some are sparked by something like a phobia. Over the past two years, I've noticed some of my worst panic attacks have been socially triggered. Sure, many are random, but most come with social backing. When I realized this, I was surprised because I'm an incredibly social person. At least, that's what I've always thought. Let's face it, I love to talk - it's a problem. I talk way too much for my own good. I love making new friends and dancing and going to parties. I'm outgoing. This makes me a social person right? Well, not really. I think I talk too much when I'm nervous, and the meeting people and dancing is just surface stuff. I think inside, I'm much more private than I want to believe. I've realized that there is a large part of me that is secretly self-conscious and nervous and shy and so afraid and so paranoid and so irrational - and this is where my socially triggered panic attacks start. I think I've located the source.

I remember the night I realized my panic attacks were beginning to have a trend with social events... it was sometime in January or February 2008, I don't remember the exact date, but I remember the night well. A friend and I were figuring out our plans for the evening, driving on our way to a friend's party when I texted a guy friend of mine to see what he was up to. Let's call him... Toby? I'm just gonna change all the names in the story to make it easier. (See, talk too much) Anyways, Toby* replies and says that Luke* is having a party, and asks if I'm coming. Immediately, my irrational mind jumps to the thought that Luke (who I had a small fling with about a month prior) intentionally didn't invite me to his little soiree and that he hates me and thinks I'm a joke and all of his friends do too and Toby was just innocently telling me and probably didn't realize I was intentionally not invited. This little, immediate, paranoid delusion triggered a panic attack so awful that I had to pull the car over off of the freeway and wait for fifteen minutes before I could stop shaking. I'm not sure how this all sounds when you're reading it, but I get chills just thinking about it. It was horrible and one of the first times I ever had an uncontrollable panic attack in front of someone else. I guess that's just an example of a social trigger. It's one that means a lot to me because that was when I had this revelation that my panic disorder was getting pretty serious and had taken on more structure - if that makes sense. It probably doesn't.

What happens during a panic attack? Well, I'm gonna guess they're a little different for each individual, since everybody is different. For me, I become overwhelmed (a truly perfect word to describe it) with the most horrible feeling imaginable - fear. But it's not fear like "oh, I'm afraid of the dark" or "I'm afraid of spiders" or "I'm afraid of so-and-so breaking up with me". It's like the most intense fear that every horror you could possibly imagine is going to come true and you are terrified and angry and sad and confused all at the same time - multiplied by one thousand. When I get an attack, it's really hard to breathe or breathe normally. Sometimes I hyperventilate to the point that I almost pass out. And during the nasty ones - I shake. Sometimes uncontrollably. The shaking is incredibly restless and it's almost like an adrenaline rush - in fact, it's exactly like an adrenaline rush. The only problem is, I don't feel powerful or strong or anything - I feel the exact opposite, but now I have this overload of adrenaline that is making me shake uncontrollably. Mostly it's my hands that shake, sometimes my legs and feet. Basically, it sucks. A lot.

I get panic attacks weekly, sometimes daily? Usually they're just little ones that last about a minute or two. Every now and then,, I'll get the nasty ones. The social ones. The ones that last from minutes to hours. Writing this helps more than you could realize. During the really nasty ones, I can't even write. I can't do anything. I've been dealing with this for so long that I think I'm pretty damn good at controlling it - especially in public. The feeling still sucks.

So yeah, I have panic disorder. I get panic attacks. They aren't always socially triggered, but most of the bad ones are. There is treatment like therapy and medication and right now I'm not in treatment. My last psychiatrist wanted to put me back on Zoloft, but I don't want to be on meds all the time. Only when I need them. Xanax would be ideal. Just for the big ones. The last shrink didn't think that was a good idea but screw him, I think I know me better than anyone, and I think the xanny thing is something I should try.

Yeah, I guess that's all I have to say about that...

Any questions? Hit me up.

P.S. After I published this post, I'm extremely flattered to announce that I apparently inspired a friend of mine to write about her experiences with panic disorder.

You can check out her blog here: http://sheilamikailli.tumblr.com

:-)

Oh Heyyy

Guess I've been busy? August was an incredibly insane month. Although it's difficult to say goodbye to friends, family and home, sometimes a move is much needed. My last few weeks at home were a little hectic: packing, goodbyes, parties, brunches, bbq's, and one last Giants game...

And so I embarked on a new chapter of my life...

Now, I'm living in LA and loving my life more than ever. Just the change I needed...

However, six classes, one lab, being in a sorority and having a good social life is not an easy schedule to balance... Whateverrrr, it's totally worth it!

Cruel to Be Kind?

August is approaching fast, and I can't help but wonder what happened to summer. Although this is easily the shortest summer I have ever experienced, it has been one of the most personally educational. I'd like to think of myself as somewhat of an optimist - reminding myself of the Law of Attraction and smiling no matter how I'm feeling. Unfortunately, this has been an incredibly difficult task over the past month due to the fact that I have discovered what truly horrible creatures human beings can be. Truly horrible.

Cruelty just seems to be in human nature, it's nothing new. The opening scene of the 1970's horror flick "Carrie" makes this terribly apparent. A young Carrie White, played by Sissy Spacek, begins her period in the girls' locker room while showering. Raised in an extremely religious household, Carrie was never educated on sex or the body and thinks there is something horribly wrong with her when she sees the menstruation. She screams and runs to her classmates for help, but instead of setting Carrie straight on what is happening to her body, they berate her, tease her, and throw a plethora of feminine products at her while backing her into a corner. It's possibly one of the cruelest scenes I've ever seen.

The clip from "Carrie" is just one example of most human beings lack of understanding. So often, we fail to see the other side of the story - we fail to try and understand or even care. In our selfish existence, how often do we stop to take a step back and look at the entire situation? Why is it always so important that every situation is taken personally and blown out of proportion? There are more important things in life.

Throughout the film, few characters attempt to help Carrie and her situation. Unfortunately, their efforts go practically unnoticed - overshadowed by the merciless acts put on by her atrocious classmates. Carrie eventually, and famously, takes revenge on every person in her life using telekinesis. Sure, the revenge she puts forth is awful, but does Carrie really know any better? In my opinion, this vengeance is an example of "what not to do." Retaliation fuels the fire, and most often makes things worse rather than better.

The solution is simple - hakuna matata. In a loose translation of swahili, it actually does mean "no worries." People need to learn to let things go and live life. Carpe Diem. Now, I am going to let it all go, live my life and enjoy the rest of my summer. :-)

For the Love of the Game

Oh, gosh, it's been a while since my last post. Guess I've been super busy with school. My bad... So, right at this moment, I am watching the NCAA College World Series on ESPN. Boy, do I love baseball. Especially college baseball. It's down to the final 3 games, LSU vs Texas. I'm really pulling for the Tigers - don't ask me why. For some reason, there has always been a spot in my heart for Louisiana. I think it's because I love New Orleans Square in Disneyland so much. And I read a bunch of books that took place in Louisiana when I was young. Who knows? I think LSU will pull through. The game has been pretty fab if you ask me. The Longhorns were in the lead, 6-4, for most of the game. Then, during the top of the 9th, LSU hit a double which tied up the score. Currently, it is the bottom of the 10th with 2 outs and the score remains unchanged...

... And LSU wins. 7-6. Who called it? Me.

I'm thinking of pitching this idea to ESPN or something for next season... don't steal it or I'll find you... Most girls I know have absolutely no interest in college baseball whatsoever. Sure, they'll say they like baseball because they go to the MLB games, but when I see them there they pay no attention to the score or the game and are often drunken messes. (Nothing against drunken messes) Did they watch the MLB draft? Do they watch the games on TV? If yes, then great. If no, why not? Why don't girls have this interest in baseball that most guys do?

The answer appears pretty obvious: gender roles. In our society, girls are raised on glamor, fashion and Barbie; boys on sports and G.I. Joe. So some people might wonder, what turned me on to America's pastime? There are very few things sexier than a guy playing baseball. When I was pretty little, my mom showed me the classic baseball flick "The Sandlot." Till this day, I can remember the first time I saw that epic film and the memorable Benjamin Franklin Rodriguez. Benny. Was. Is. And always will be. A. Fox. If I had to pick one thing that sparked my interest in baseball - it's that. Of course, I eventually began playing softball, 

watching the games and learning more about the sport. I fell in love with the smell of the grass and the dirt and the memory of catching my first pop fly. Hot dogs, hot days, summer nights, team spirit, foul balls, fastballs, home runs, strike outs, pickles, rallies, stealing the bases... gosh there are too many things to name. Plus, no matter how attractive or unattractive a guy is - those uniforms add, like, 10 hot points. Haha. 

My point is, if liking the players before loving the game is what happened to me, can't all girls be turned on baseball that way? I think yes, for the most part. It's because of this that I want to start a list, or a few. The 50 Sexiest Men in College Baseball. And the 50 Sexiest Men in MLB. Yes? Amazing idea? I think so. I've got it all planned out. But it wouldn't JUST be about looks, being sexy is about so much more than looks. If a guy is really funny, really talented, really smart, or just an overall great guy - he gets more sexy points. If a guy has a big ego, is a womanizer, or is just sort of a jerk - he loses sexy points. So naturally, once the players get narrowed down to around 100 players based on looks, I'd like to get some interviews and testimonials from teammates, friends, and coaches. I think it could do a lot for baseball (especially college ball) and bring in a ton of female fans. 

On a more feminine note: I'm now watching "The Bachelorette" on ABC. Since day 1, I have been head-over-heels in love with Jake. He's the most charming southern gentleman ever. I envy Jillian for her opportunity to be with the sexiest commercial pilot on the planet. My picks for the final 2 were originally Jake and Kiptyn. Wes needs to get kicked off asap. I hate him. & Tanner's foot fetish freaks me 

out - no surprise they play circus music every time he talks about feet! This show really emphasizes love as one big game - and it is. And she just let Jake go. IDIOT. "Nice guys finish last." I could cry. Well, it's obviously her loss. Maybe Jake will be the next Bachelor? That man is about to get a ton of fan mail. Love, dating, relationships, friendships are all a game. How tragic. Hopefully, it's a game I will win someday without too many scars right?

In case those of you reading this haven't noticed, I'm boy crazy. So, so boy crazy. I thought it was just a phase I'd grow out of and, 

boy, was I wrong. I probably fall in love with a stranger on sight at least once a week - like that guy in the USC sweatshirt who was staring at me during the entire escalator ride up at the Giants game on Friday? I could have said "I do" to those piercing blue eyes right then and there... Okay just kidding, I'm not that crazy... But I could have done many things that did not involve that USC sweatshirt. ;-)

"Those are Lovely Pearls"

The first time I saw the film Freedom Writers, I wasn't that impressed. I thought "great, another movie about a teacher who empowers ghetto underprivileged high schoolers." But then I watched it again. And again. And I realized, I love these movies. I wouldn't quite call it a guilty pleasure kinda thing, but I love the optimism these teachers have. The fact that most of these movies seem to be based on true stories just makes it all even better. Dangerous Minds, the true story of a teacher at Carlmont High School (which my private high school was around the corner from), is a really great watch. Michelle Pfiefer plays a new teacher who is very positive and optimistic about her students' education and their life experiences. This was when Carlmont began bussing students in from East Palo Alto, which is, like, really ghetto, no offense EPA. Freedom Writers is essentially the same. You've got your socially privileged, white, female teacher, a new group of underprivileged and violent teenagers, and in the end lessons are learned and everybody grows bla bla bla. I just go through a total culture shock when I watch these movies, especially looking at the race relations in Freedom Writers. It's crazy.

The Hills

Anyone watch the season finale of The Hills? I used to love this show when it first aired and now I believe it is safe to say that this guilty pleasure has officially gone down hill. No, off a cliff. Lauren Conrad (whom I love, love, love) is wise in choosing to leave the show. Now, The Hills started going downhill seasons ago, so why have I still been so attached? The majority of the show is a total joke, but the general vibe it gives off is absolutely addicting. The clothes. The clubs. The music. The gorgeous people. The glamor of an envious Hollywood lifestyle. I mean, I know that's my dream. 

As previously stated, I love Lauren Conrad. I understand it is unfair to judge someone by how they are portrayed on a staged reality show, but I feel like she is a classy, stylish and motivated young woman that most girls can look up to and admire. Is that strange? I also have this weird love for Stephanie Pratt. I don't particularly love her personality or her general character, I guess it's her hair color with her skin tone and how she does her make-up? It's fascinating. Audrina seems like a super cool chick and she's obviously smokin', but I need her eyebrows to be thicker! I think she's grown them out since the first season, thank god. I miss Whitney. I never watched The City. Didn't appeal to me. People tell me I look like Whitney... something to ponder. Then there is Heidi Montag. Don't even get me started on her and Spencer Pratt. Blaahh. Ohhh yeah, and now Kristin Cavallari is joining the cast? Can't we see new people?

& it is official, I will be attending Loyola Marymount University in the fall for Theatre Arts. Super stoked! 

Nobody Fucks With a Lion

My grades in high school were less than spectacular. I slacked off. I had just about every psychological disorder imaginable. I partied. That got me into Cal State Northridge. CSUN was sort of chill. I made some cool friends and joined the most amazing sorority ever. Unfortunately, the university itself was just BS. It was way too big. I couldn't get the classes I needed, nor did anyone care if I got my classes or even passed them. It wasn't what I was used to coming from a small private school. 

It was then that I made one of the best choices for myself in the history of my life - I moved home. I transferred to Foothill, a fantastic community college 30 minutes south of my house where I knew I was certain to get into a good 4-year. After CSUN, I knew I wanted a private school, no states or UC's, which made my application process much easier. I immediately had two schools in mind - USC and LMU. For those of you who live under a rock, USC is the University of Southern California and LMU is Loyola Marymount University. Both schools are amazing and in Los Angeles. :-)

Well, I've done my best to keep up my grades after having a dismal academic semester at Northridge. Currently, my cumulative is at a 3.5. During Winter Quarter I applied for transfer to both USC and LMU. May 28, 2009 coincidentally happened to be the date in which both schools determined my academic fate. USC, in all of its competitive glory, was unfortunately not able to offer me admission. Bummer. But whatever. However, I called the LMU admissions office on Friday & was pleasantly informed of my acceptance! Fabulous news! It looks as though I will be an LMU Lion come Fall 2009... just waiting on the official packet! :-)

I love my life.

Prop Hate

California, I am truly disappointed in you. Prop 8 goes against love & love makes the world go round. Prop 8 supports intolerance and discrimination and homophobia. Why would anyone who has ever been in love or gotten married want to deny someone else of their right to wed?

Celebrities have been up in arms over Prop 8 for months and still are. I wish that their fame had more pull among voters. "California is supposed to be a progressive state. It defies logic to me. I'm very disappointed" Elton John told AccessHollywood.com and I couldn't agree more with the Rocket Man. Seriously dudes, if a state like Iowa can accept and tolerate gay marriage, why can't California? 

I signed this petition earlier today. I want more people to sign it too.

http://www.gavinnewsom.com/actions/petition

Summer Bummer

Summer is right around the corner... Guess who needs a job? Oh yes, yours truly. I need that cashola. It's a bummer, because most places aren't hiring or they don't like the temporary factor. Blows. Come autumn, I'm outa hurr. Plus, I'm a picky and stubborn person. I don't always respond well to authority. Never could I ever wait tables or serve any kind of food. Gross. I would not feel comfortable serving people I know. I'd feel way too submissive. Not a good fit.

Retail is alright. Sort of sucks. Discounts on clothes are sick. I worked at Abercrombie & Fitch during my senior year of high school. I still have a ton of A&F clothes, but I could never work there again. No minimum wage, thank you very much. Last week, I called the new American Apparel that opened super close to my house about job openings. The chick on the phone was helpful, told me they had an opening & to bring in my resume & some pics to get a feel for my style. So, the next day, as instructed, I delivered my resume with some pictures. Now, I'm constantly in American Apparel shopping, but the usual girls I know who work there were unfortunately not on duty. I finally found a girl working and asked her who I would see about turning in my resume. She shyly pointed to this chick with one of those bull nose rings, so I walked over, introduced myself and explained the phone convo I had the day before. This girl then says "Oh, okay, well, yeah, we'll keep this in our file and call you when we have an opening." Ummm hello WTF. The chick on the phone said they had an opening. Hella sketch right? I'm gonna bring my resume to the other Apparel in Paly and see what happens. Wish me luck.

One of the most rewarding jobs I ever had was at this upscale tanning salon. I would love to work at another one. Basic duties include smiling, being friendly, being tan and selling lots of tans and tanning lotions. Fabulous. Since I had to get certified by the Smart Tan Network, I now know, like, all the science behind tanning. I'm pretty much a pro. The only problem is there's a limited number of reputable salons in the area, and most are not currently hiring. My family, however, has a house in Santa Cruz. I'm thinking about applying to some salons over in the Cruz and Capitola and I could just live there for the summer. Rad idea. I'd just work and tan and surf, like, all day. Sweet life. - Well that idea is now out of the question. Just checked with the parentals and it looks like my grandparents will be inhabiting the beach house for the majority of the summer. Another bummer. 

Guess I'll have to work on the local employment opportunities for now... oh yeah, I've gotta plan Independence Day 2009. I'm thinking Lake Tahoe. South Shore? We'll see...

Got That New I'm A Single Girl Swag

I try to download every song on Billboard's Hot 100 just to keep up with what's trendy. I don't really listen to the radio. Don't watch much MTV. It's the only real way I can find out what's new & popular. So, I downloaded Kristinia Debarge's "Goodbye", currently #30 on the Billboard Hot 100, and had a listen. At first, I thought it sounded like something only 11 year old girls should be listening to. Then I listened to the lyrics. I've been totally over emotional the past 2 weeks about lame ass romance bullshit, so I must admit, this song has been a much needed pick me up. The song has a definite sugarcoated/bubblegum sound but it's a for sure mood booster. Na na na na, na na na na, hey heyyy, goodbye.

On Saturday, I saw the new Wayans' bros. film "Dance Flick." Please, please, please do not waste your money. Thankfully, I had a free movie pass, but I'm almost sorry I threw it away on this pathetic excuse for a film. I only saw it in the first place because my friends already bought their tickets and told me to come, so I didn't have time to convince them that "Star Trek" or "Terminator: Salvation" or "Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian" or just about any other movie would have been a better investment. The entire flick was a "Save the Last Dance" parody, with a few rips on other dance movies. There were a few laugh out loud moments, mostly thanks to Essence Atkins' character Charity. Otherwise, the majority of the movie was completely racist, portraying all inner city blacks as gang members and over-sexed degenerates who never wear condoms and don't know how to parent their children. It's sort of a shame that this was written by black men using African-American stereotypes entirely for profit. Maybe they figure since the stereotypes are out there, they might as well play off of them? I'll admit, some of the jokes were hilarious, but it's not like my white/blonde friends and I could really laugh at some of them in a theater surrounded by black people. I'm not racist at all, but it's just the truth. Anyway, that is beside the point.

The point is that this movie was awful. Horrid. Yuck. Barf. 

Oh yeah, I'd also like to give a shout out to all of the vets and those currently fighting for the USA. I'm not about war, I don't know many people who are, but I'm proud that you're putting your lives on the line to ensure freedom and safety in this country and others. I've got family and friends overseas & I just wish everyone the best. World peace! Happy Memorial Day! I salute you.

I Know What Ice Fishing Is

Titanic might possibly be one of the greatest movies, ever, to watch after a break up. Or maybe it wasn't even a break up. Maybe you just can't be with the one you want. 

The 1997 Oscar winning film is regarded as one of the greatest love stories of all time. Only with this story, there are just a few days of bliss and no happy ending - all too familiar to my romantic histories. First of all, the movie's score alone is beautifully tragic, perfect for enhancing a myriad of emotions. I coyly admit that I will listen to the theme by itself when I feel particularly depressed. The violin assists feeling, but instills a sense of hope at the same time... if that makes sense.

It also eases heartbreak to know that Jack never tells Rose that he loves her. Never. He says "that's what I love about you, Rose" which is certainly not the same as "I love you." Even when Mr. Dawson is nearing his death in the freezing Atlantic, he can't even manage to get those three words out. Maybe he didn't have to say it. Maybe Rose already knew. Maybe he didn't really love her. Maybe you don't always need to say it. Maybe it doesn't need to be real love to be any less a love story. 

All I know is that it is past 1 AM and I am awake, alone and lonely - my only company a doomed pair of lovers and their fellow ill-fated passengers. 

My heart will go on.

Mundane Monday

Since Friday, my emotions have been extremely confused. I had a lot of fun this weekend, but I've still been dealing with the same old stuff. I don't know whether or not I should feel angry or sad or strong or free. In all reality, I just feel lost and somewhat empty. I've gotta learn to deal with the fact that there are only so many situations I can control. Am I a control freak? Maybe I'm a sociopath. 

I just created a playlist on iTunes to help me cope. It helps, like, tons. Currently listening to "Pain" by Jimmy Eat World and let's see what other jams I've got on here... "Gives You Hell" by the All American Rejects, "Stronger" by Britney Spears, "Say It Right" by Nelly Furtado, "Senorita" by Justin Timberlake, the ever so emotional "Because of You" by Kelly Clarkson and just about every Aerosmith song. There's a bunch more. But yeah. I'm gonna go take a bubble bath. Later broski.

Practice Makes Perfect

I just spent several hours in my backyard working out in my bikini while simultaneously tanning. I'm, like, so totally genius right? 

At this very moment, I have reason to believe my family is cursed. Yes, I said it... Cursed. We have been dealing with one absolutely dreadful situation after the next. I'm not sure exactly how I'm surviving, but my soul is nowhere near intact. I guess it's just the hardships that life gives out sometimes, but it's extra hard coping with sick loved ones, car accidents, economic problems, people trying to set your house on fire, and multiple family members leaving for Iraq all in the span of a month. I think those are really only half of our issues. Sucks, huh? I'm aware how terribly emo I must sound, but on top of my family's struggles, I have so many more of my own. I think I'm blessed to be in a somewhat decent mood right now. It's not easy to have panic attacks daily and still keep a smile on your face. Yesterday, my brother asked me how I was able to deal with everything and still keep smiling. I simply replied, "Practice." 

I feel like everyone is in southern California right now. Two of my best friends are down at USC for their older siblings' graduations. My "fella" is at USC for the weekend baseball series. And then there's just a ton of other friends going down for the weekend. I was supposed to go too. I wish I did, but I'm glad I didn't. I think there might have been drama. I like to avoid drama if possible. 

Poem Update: As of Tuesday night, that poem I started on Monday is about 6 pages long. Damn. Hella emotions up in hurr. I mean, I think it's pretty good. The whole thing rhymes. I don't think I'll add anything more because I basically wrote everything there is to write about the situation. Maybe a few more verses could be squeezed in. I'll make it an even 6 pages. Damn. 6 pages.

Hump Day

Happy Hump Day ladies & gentlemen! I just got home from the Stanford baseball game against Pacific. Totally bitchin' 9th inning. The lead flipped back and forth throughout the game, and by the bottom of the 9th it was 13-10 Pacific, with Stanford up to bat. Pacific's pitcher, Carnivale, had stumbled, allowing two runs and several walks. So with the score 13-12, #21 Kellen Kiilsgaard comes up to the plate for Stanford. There are already 2 outs and the bases are loaded - no pressure! Then, with 2 balls and 2 strikes, Kiilsgaard blasts the ball perfectly into center field. Kiilsgaard had barely made it to first base when his teammates swarmed the hitter to celebrate the victory. Final score: 14-13. Kellen goes up like 200+ cool points. 

Oh, did I forget to mention I've got a slight obsession with baseball?

Kris Allen is The Sex

Aight, so I haven't followed American Idol in hella days. This season, however, totally sucked me in. I think Adam Lambert will take it, and I love him. But I've been super addicted to Kris Allen since the very beginning. He's like a cross between Jason Mraz and John Mayer with a splash of orgasm. His songs are like soft, but playful sex. Mmmm. 

I just finished watching his rendition of Kanye West's "Heartless" and it was absolutely unbelievable. Loved it. Check it, please. I've never been one to vote for these shows, but I want Allen in the final two fa sho. Nothing against Danny Gokey. I mean, he seems like a cool dude, fabulous vocals, but not my style?

It's Only Tuesday...

This week is slower than I would like. Everything goes by slow when you're waiting. I started this little shblog last night and I'm already on my third post. It would be more impressive if I had any followers. Someday, maybe people will become intrigued and read all of these early workings. 

 

Do you ever listen to a song and see all the similarities it has with your life? It happens to me every single day. Sometimes, like right now, I can hardly listen to any song without getting a little choked up. My brain finds a way to make the song fit into my life and, well, life is kinda hard. I guess I'll have to stick to rap beats about pimpin' hoes and thug life. 

 

I called my old psychiatrist yesterday afternoon but she had already left her office. The good old doctor was supposed to call me back today. She said she checks her voicemail once every day. Still no call. WTF. In my voicemail, I specifically mentioned the urgency of a reply and getting on some meds by the end of the week. How. Ah. Noy. Ing. Bleh. I could see any shrink really, but my doctor was from Stanford's Adolescent & Child Psychology unit, so I feel like I need a psych of the same caliber. And there it is again, amazing how the name "Stanford" can add so much to notability and reputation. Ha. Well, we shall see how my return to the medicated life goes. I think it will go very well, or else there would be no reason to come back. 

 

Today is Tuesday, and on this Tuesday I have decided to open a new chapter in the book that is my provocative life. I need to remember that this is my life and I come first. It's not selfish, I consider it emotionally responsible. Life is so much more lively when you look at the world through rose colored glasses. Optimism is key. Carpe Diem. Hakuna Matata. I've gotta learn to breathe.

Oh remember that poem I mentioned from my last little post "Rhymes with Alex?" Well, I decided to write a little more this morning. It turned into a lot of writing, and the poem is now nearly five pages. I'm crazy. But hey, whatever gets the emotions out in a healthy and productive way, right? Here's the first verse thing... 

Oh baby, would you mind passing me the Xanax?

I've gotta come down from all these panic attacks

You see, anxiety here has taken over

Shut me down, like an alcoholic gone sober

It's a little funny how that first bit is on anxiety when every other line I've written has focused on a completely different topic. Well, not completely since it's totally fueling my anxiety. Emo. Maybe I'll keep writing. I'll make it a book. Ya? Didn't think so. You know something is wrong when I put on my emo playlist. Peace out brah.

AVS

Rhymes with Alex

Back in the day, I was super into the whole poetry thing. Mix a twelve year old girl with insane emotions and imagination, you're bound to get something emo. I mean, don't get me wrong, I wasn't half bad. I was published in multiple volumes of the "Stanford Anthology for Youth". I guess that's supposed to be impressive since it has "Stanford" in the title. 

Today, I decided to hop back on that poetry train, or whatever you want to call it. I write about my life most of the time. It's the easiest thing to write about. Write what you know... right?

I wrote a super long poem today about some romantic messiness I've been in as of late. Life is tough. Especially when you're impatient. I'm waiting on college transfer decisions, on friends, on dudes.

Life is messy... So I won't put up the long poem yet. Needs some work.  Thought this little one up in class today though... sure I'll add on to it later... maybe

'Cause in times like these

You've just gotta learn to breathe

And life can get so crazy

That it brings you to your knees

AVS

Popping the Blog Cherry... Gnarly

Mom & Pops have been suggesting I get a blog for hella days. I like to write. I like to write about myself. I like the internet. It all goes together pretty well. I'm sure it'll be a good fit. Just hope I don't post TMI. Ya dig?

I've got a lot going on in my life. The inside of my brain is like Lovefest or fireworks on the 4th of July or some crazy Halloween party. I think too fast. It's hard for me to get my thoughts out sometimes. And I've got some fantastically fun issues that should make some of these little blogs rather interesting. Hopefully. I just don't want to be boring. I'd rather be anything but boring. I think boring is the worst insult ever. I'd rather be called a bitch or a slut or a dumb blonde - anything but boring. Marilyn Monroe has this totally stellar quote about not being boring: "Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius, and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring."

How long are these posts supposed to be? Hmmm... I guess I'll get better at them? Maybe someone will actually read it...

Till next time... Peace Out Brah

AVS