LA People...

It's that time of year again...my birthday is coming up. Okay, granted, it's more than a month away. But I need to figure out where I'm going to have it this year. I'm looking for a cool, fun place that's not too pretentious and which my (somewhat large) circle of friends and acquaintances can get into without dealing with lines or other bullshit. Past venues have been Formosa, Hollywood Canteen and Flint's. Throw out suggestions if you've got 'em!

Yesterday was Sarita's birthday (Happy birthday!) so we all went to El Campadre to celebrate with flaming margaritas and a side of dinner. I tried to order one of every type of margarita they had for our birthday girl (I think there were about 7) but she said no, which I know means yes...or at least I hope it does. Otherwise, there are probably some arrest warrants out for me somewhere.

We went over to The Standard on the Strip afterwards to meet up with her friend, Jason, and his roommate Bill. I've never met Bill but Sarita's told me that Bill's a model who looks exactly like Justin Timberlake. So when he walked through the door, I knew it was him...he looks EXACTLY like Justin Timberlake. I mean, EXACTLY. Same fresh style and everything. It was hard not to stare. Apparently, he gets mistaken quite a bit which is good for him and his potential sex life with drunk teenagers.

First of all, that was my first time actually having a drink at The Standard. I've looked around before, but have never been in the lounge that's hidden behind the restaurant. I christened the lounge "The Cheesedick Lounge." You have to see it to believe it. It's cheesy and looks like the set of a USA made-for-TV movie, which looks distinctly like a cokehead's haven. And all the guys in there looked incredibly sleazy and fairly European. I don't think I'll be going back.

Some random things:

-at dinner yesterday, Sarita kept getting Happy Birthday phone calls. So when my mom called, I decided to mess around. Conversation as follows:

I answer the phone (note: I have a loud restaurant in the background).

JULIA (seductively): So...what are you wearing?"
MOM: HELLO????
JULIA (seductively): What are you wearing?
MOM: WHAT? WHERE AM I GOING?
JULIA: No. What are you wearing?
MOM: WHAT DO I WEIGH????
JULIA: WHAT. ARE. YOU. WEARING.
MOM: WHAT AM I WEARING?
JULIA: YES.
MOM: Um...orange shirt...an orange t-shirt. Black gym pants. I just got back from the gym. Why?
JULIA: I'm just kidding. I was trying to be sexy.
MOM: WHAT?
JULIA: I WAS TRYING TO BE SEXY.
MOM: WHAT?
JULIA: Nevermind.

-I drove by the French Connection store yesterday, and thought, they should come out with a unisex line called, the Metrosexual Edition. So the t-shirts would say, "FCUK ME"

OH HELL YEAH!

I just received confirmation from ESPN that I officially finished second overall for fantasy basketball this season and have won a 20 inch flatscreen TV!

http://www.cnn.com/2004/WORLD/asiapcf/04/28/australia.luluroo/index.html

Cute story, sure, but...what the hell does being "honored with one of the RSPCA's highest awards for animal bravery" mean to a freakin' kangaroo?!? Seriously, who's really getting the kick (no pun intended) out of this award? Yes, PEOPLE. The same type of people who put sweaters on dogs and bras on low- to mid-range sports cars.

This is why I hated working in the film industry.

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/0423041friends2.html

I remember one time, there was a big tv producer who had the corner office that I could see into from my desk. If he was bored and caught my attention, he would get up on his desk and pretend he was boning a girl from behind. Real classy.

So here's the deal. Every morning, sometime between 8:27am and 8:35am, I walk by the Coffee Bean on the corner of Santa Monica and Beverly Glen on my way to work. Occasionally, I go in and buy a small Vanilla Latte, depending on how grueling it was to get out of bed on that particular day. Sometime in December, I started noticing that this same guy was there every morning. I also noticed that this same guy always looked like a deer caught in headlights whenever I looked at him. I hadn't really paid much attention to him before because I was always looking at Hot Asian Guy in the Shirt and Tie if he was there, because I have this shirt and tie fetish and what's the point of having a fetish if you're not going to harmlessly objectify someone with it. So over the last four months, this guy has managed to go from staring at me like I was going to plow him with my semi, to smiling nervously and quickly looking away, to finally last week, saying hi (more precisely, he says hi then mumbles how are you as he looks away miserably like he wishes to God he hadn't started this procession of words out of his mouth). I don't quite know what to do with this, other than to be my normal, friendly, approachable self and patiently wait for him to figure out what he's doing.

But given the state of my current employment, I'm tempted to go up to him tomorrow morning and say, "Look, I'm only going to be walking by here every weekday for about two more weeks so let's take it to the next level and have a conversation soon, okay?"

But then again, here I am thinking that maybe this guy has a passing crush on me, when it's just as likely that he's thinking about how great I would look dismembered in his trunk on my way to being buried in the canyons somewhere. Ah...LA. How you taunt me when I'm single.

4/26 Recap:

So my work situation. I'm not going to say too much about it since specifics regarding my professional life, just as with specifics regarding my actual dating/relationship life, are things that I'm pretty private about out of respect to the people involved. But I have to say it's been really frustrating. But in the bigger picture, things always work out the way they need to so I try not to spend too much time agonizing.

I left at lunch time to go run some errands and discovered my driver side mirror completely ripped off the frame and dangling by a few exposed wires. Not what I needed today but I was surprisingly zen about it. Luckily, the person responsible had left a note. I realized I couldn't drive with it this way, since I didn't know how to detach the wires to completely remove the mirror, so I had to drive with my window open as I held the mirror with my left hand to prevent it from slamming against my door and steered with my right. I went directly to the mechanic and he estimated it would cost $1400. Fucking beemers. But at least I won't be the one paying for it. He figured it would take 3-10 days to fix so I had to rent a car. There was a car rental right across the street, and the only cars they had were an Astrovan and an Infiniti FX35. Well fuck yeah, I took the Infiniti. Because I totally want that car. And mama don't drive no minivan.

So I'm about to sound like the very materialistic LA yuppie punks that I hate, but man, that car is awesome. I check it out on the internet sometimes at work--it's the car I would love to have if I had the money to get a new car. But sometimes I look at it and think, they're actually really odd-looking and ugly. So odd-looking and ugly, that they go right off the scale and land right back in "attractive." Sort of like pugs. And troll dolls. And my ex-boyfriend. (just kidding) It's beautiful inside and feels like you're driving a tank. The handling is decent and there's a steptronic manual shift. The only bad things are that the rear window and side mirrors are odd shapes, so they take some getting used to, and you have to really punch the gas to go in reverse.

I've never been so excited about a rental car. And plus, you know how cars often fit their owner's personalities? My personality doesn't really fit the bmw stereotype (other than wanting to be Michelle Yeoh from that Bond movie with the mad BMWs). I'm probably more of a compact sports utility gal. Or definitely the hybrid SUV kind of person when they come out. But while I've got an awesome car and have no plans to trade it in, I'm definitely gonna look for excuses to drive around town this week.

I came home from work and changed into a t-shirt and gym pants and drove to Costco. First of all, I love just chillin' in comfortable clothes and flipflops, and I love people who are comfortable doing the same. I drove over to Costco and had a blast getting there--the freeway was fairly empty and I was cruising with the windows down and the music up. I picked up some chicken breasts and drumsticks to make more jerk chicken with. I'm trying to work out the recipe and this time I put some tapatio sauce and red pepper flakes in the marinade to try to make it more spicy. I ended up broiling the legs and slow simmering the breasts. The drumsticks came out AMAZING. Very crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, with a spicy kick. The breasts turned out well but took longer to cook so we'll probably have them tomorrow.

Today's mood: Making positives out of negatives, man.

I love Sundays. Lauren came over and chilled for most of the day; I made jerk chicken and we had that with cold Coronas and lime. The day was beautiful and we just kicked it like we were gonna live forever. I think the older we get with our increasing responsibilities, the more we have to strive to make time to just have fun and be.

Last night I was surfing radio stations for something different. I love KCRW because of how it exposes me to new and unique music that I don't hear on the major stations. But in my sleep-deprived, delirious state, I thought I would just surf around and try to find those really small "mom and pop" stations.

I listened to a Spanish station for a while and I noticed how you can distinguish real music from consumer-oriented pop music, even if the songs are in a different language. You can feel the level of "soul" in the track if you really attune yourself.

I found a station where a woman was narrating in a foreign language. Mind you, I was doing this at 3:30AM so I was pretty exhausted, but I had a hard time telling which language she was speaking in at first. My first thought was Italian, then Japanese. Those seem like completely different languages, but because I was so tired, I could hear similar linguistic characteristics between the two. Then I realized it was Korean because I know a few random words in Korean. I thought it would be interesting to try to listen to the woman in a way that completely ignores the words in order to focus on the underlying meaning. It suddenly intrigued me how the American Indians were able to communicate with the settlers. How were some Indians able to learn English, given that they had no basis for understanding this completely foreign system of communication? It amazes me. I was sitting there, listening to this woman speak, imagining how, if I completely surrounded myself with this language, constantly listened to speakers and had no language guides such as books or tapes, I would still be able to eventually understand the language. Isn't it amazing how something can have no meaning at one point, and suddenly have such clear, definite meaning at a later point?

I got really sleepy so I wanted some mellow music to fall asleep to. I surfed until I found what I thought was a classical station. Turned out to be a show that played movie scores (called The Dark Room, 2am to 4am, Saturdays, 90.7FM). I love movie scores...fell asleep to some great tracks.

So Lauren and I just suddenly realized that people who blog a lot, are so incredibly obviously not getting laid. It's like waving a huge red flag.

In other news, just posted photos on my website in the Photo section and bio page. I'll link everyone up with their own profiles when I have more time.

I realized today....there's something incredibly noble about someone who can admit that he or she is lonely.

4/24 Recap:

Lauren and I were good today and went to the gym in the morning. Later, Brian and I went to lunch at Coral Tree Cafe in Brentwood; I highly recommend the chicken panini. I've discovered the problem with Brentwood (other than the innocent celebrities who kill their ex-wives). There are too many Type A personalities and too few parking spaces. When I was looking to buy a condo, I checked out a lot of places in Brentwood and my #1 complaint was the parking situation. I figured, no one would ever visit me because they wouldn't be able to find a place to park.

I went home and napped for the rest of the day. Seriously. Work stress is killing me. But here's the thing. I went into my supervisor's office yesterday and more or less asked for less work and more money. And he agreed, though he's going to have to take it up with the owner. But my mom has called me every other day for the past three weeks, ever since I told her that our building has an asbestos situation, begging me to leave the job. So if they come back and give me less work and more money, do I still tell them that I won't work there unless they move the company to a less hazardous building? Originally, I had wanted to leave but give them the option of keeping me on as a marketing consultant so I can work from home. I have no idea what to do. I just know that I've been getting sick a lot more since I started working there, and I've had a two week headache lately so I'm definitely heading towards burnout. I can't imagine how associates at the big law firms do it. Most of my friends who are lawyers do the 80 hrs a week for a couple of years out of law school but then move on, but I swear those two years take about 15 off their lifespans.

I went with Roxie, Penny and Lizzy to an art event at Imee's artist's space downtown. There was a lot of interesting art...but my favorite thing was a bookshelf in the bathroom where Imee stored her books. There was a copy of "Anal Pleasure and Health" next to Dr. Seuss's "Green Eggs and Ham." Completely unintentional but hilarious. I should have taken a picture.

I got a little bit bored after the first hour so I walked around the block. There was a 98 Cent store across the street and that cracked me up. Not 99 Cent, but 98 Cent. It reminded me of that hitchhiker in There's Something About Mary (not 8 minute abs, but 7 minute abs). It's an even BETTER bargain. On a wall in this little alley, someone had tagged his or her name in blood. I stood there staring at it, trying to imagine the magnitude of anger this person must have.

Hmmm...okay.

http://www.margotknight.com/margot.html

Weird photos.

The death of Pat Tillman has really upset me. I remember reading about his story and being amazed at his character and embarrassed for the fabric of my own. Someone who believed so much in something that he would drop his life to pursue it. It's not just about his loyalty to his country or to his fellow man. It was that he believed so much in something, regardless of the ambivalence of the rest of the country and the world. The headlines about his death in Afghanistan have been central on most of the major sites, from Yahoo and Msn to CNN and ESPN. I have always hated when media exploited the fears of the masses and sensationalized gruesome, upsetting stories. While I regret that there is an element of this in this story as there is no escaping the nature of the beast, I get very angry when people say, "They're only making it a big deal because he was a pro football player. So many others get killed every day and no one says anything." This is really doing a disservice to the character of this man. Yes, so many soldiers are killed weekly in this senseless war. And no, we don't know every soldier's story. But the thing that made Pat Tillman stand out was who he was and what he strove to achieve. If I read a newspaper story about a car salesman who leaves his life and family to join the war after his country is threatened, I would be amazed by this man and his commitment to defend the things he feels are important to him. And if I read that he was killed, I would be just as upset. Hell, if I knew the personal stories of every soldier out there, then I would be equally upset every time one is killed. If you want to be cynical of this story, blame the media. Blame its bloodlust and its infantile need to sensationalize in order to draw mass attention. But don't disparage the integrity of this man and what his life was about by associating him with the lame messenger. Every single casualty in this war upsets me. And if I knew the personal story of each person, it would devastate me. I know I'm a little bit too sensitive, but imagine if each and every one of us knew each and every person who is killed each day in this war, from one side or the other. Imagine each and every person whose body is decimated to the point that the soul can no longer reside in it, whether he is fighting for our country, his country or his beliefs. Now imagine that you know this person, you know who he is, where he comes from, what he dreams, what he fears, what he loves. And imagine that this person can no longer exist anymore on this earth. It's crippling. It's absolutely emotionally crippling. And it confuses me so much. Why are we doing this?

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

I had a hard time concentrating at work today because I was running on so little sleep. I just had a MAPP report done (career motivation appraisal... www.assessment.com) and stayed up reading it. It said the jobs I would be most motivated in are psych/spiritual counseling, creative writing, marketing and instructor of fine arts. Anything but admin/technical work. So no surprises. It was really interesting because it talks about ideal and detrimental work situations and discusses how I can't be micromanaged. Being micromanaged makes me violent inside.

I got a call today from a guy at one of the companies we work with, and he was responding to an email I had sent them a few months ago. He said that the person I sent it to didn't respond because she's deceased. I don't think I've ever worked with her because I was contacting her for my boss, but it made me really sad. Then Brian messaged to say that a friend of someone he knows hung himself on Monday.

I had a massive headache so I left early. I dropped by Starbucks to say hi to Whitney and Mul who were writing. Calvin was there and was wearing a hat that said, "It's Not Gonna Lick Itself." AWESOME.

I'm going to go to bed early today.

Today's Mood: ______________________

I DID IT!

I read at the open mic tonight. I did "Prozac" and "One More Thing About My Mother." It was cool because I got a lot of laughs at the beginning of "Mother," and then when I get to the part about coming home to find my mother's body, I got kind of emotional and people got really quiet and when it was done, the room was silent. Then I said, "My mother didn't really kill herself." And everyone just kind of breathed again and someone yelled, "You made all that up?" And I laughed and said, "Of course." The host gave me props for doing well and being calm and composed for my first time, but I was totally shaking inside. But I'm glad I did it. Wow. Growing up, my shyness was damn near paralyzing. I'm amazed that I've managed to do what I did tonight.

There were some incredible performers tonight. A sampling of gems: "Fighting for peace is like fucking for virginity." "A girl told me once that she doesn't swallow because she's Vegan." "If you get your hand caught in the cookie jar, use it as a weapon." "I hate my bed and I hate your bed, and I hate that I woke up in your bed."

The last performance was the most amazing thing I have ever seen. This HUGE hispanic guy put on some gonad-shaking tribal music and tore up the stage with this rant that was the most fucking raw, violent, excruciatingly delightful output of emotion and rage that I have ever seen. My eyes must have been bugged out for the whole ten minutes. After he was done, the host went up and said, "I just want everyone to know that Manuel just had sex with all of you." And it was true. It felt like I had just been raped by a chainsaw and the gaping, ragged hole it left in me was morbidly satisfying.

Today's mood: Cadent

I was at work today and suddenly had the strong feeling that my brother was thinking about me. So I called him and asked, "Michael, were you just thinking about me?" He said, "Yeah." I asked him, "What were you thinking about?" And he said, "I miss you."

I miss my little man, too.

So I walked into The Arsenal in West LA after work today because I had forgotten to close out my one-drink tab from Saturday, and the place was set up for 8 Minute Dating. Speed dating. I've seen it on TV but never up close so I was captivated. I asked the organizer if I could watch and he said yes. Then I asked him, "Is it okay that I'm treating this like a spectator sport?" The ratio was probably three women to every man. Most of the women were fairly attractive, young and stylish. The men on the other hand, were like the Bad News Bears of the social scene. No one was under 30 and they all looked like they had crawled out from under some Rock of Social Ineptitude. I saw that one guy was sporting a jean shirt tucked into jeans pulled up to his nipples. The whole ludicrocity of the scene (yes, it was so bad it deserves a new word) made me wonder if maybe this was some candid camera stunt to mess with the women. It took too long to get started and so I ended up getting bored and leaving. Seriously. It was like the bottom of the barrel of internet dating in there. By the way, The Arsenal sucks now. It used to be moderately entertaining right after they opened up that patio area, but the overall crowd is pretty lame, the way Liquid Kitty has gotten.

Anyway, so I left Arsenal and went over to Unurban Cafe for a poetry showcase. THAT started an hour late, too, because of technical problems, so I only stayed for two poets. One poem was titled, "Why Poets Make the Best One Night Stands." I guess these people meet a lot of one night stands at poetry readings. Maybe that's subconsciously why I left right after that poem. Was afraid some mass orgy would break out. Tomorrow's open mic there and I don't know if I've built up the courage yet to do one. I know I'll need to eventually, but it's really intimidating to be in front of people. If I do it, I'm just going to go and not tell anyone, because I wouldn't want anyone I know to see me freak out. I think I'll check it out tomorrow and play it by ear.

So, trying to change the subject, I came home from work early today because I felt like it. I just got new guitar strings (love Elixir brand) but I don't know about this Polyweb coating. Maybe it's all psychological, but I think it feels weird. I opened the door to our back balcony and the sun was a little lower in the sky and the weather was perfect. My perfect time of day. It was amazing. Just being at home early while everyone else was still at work, sitting outside, playing guitar and just being content. And seriously, I love Howie Day's album, Australia.

You know that moment when you suddenly realize you're completely intrigued by someone for seemingly no apparent reason, and you find your mind constantly drifting off, wondering who this person is and what his life is like, and you have a deep burning curiousity to find out?


I've become intrigued by someone. And I hope that he's intrigued by me, too.

For Amber (And Anyone Else Who Has Ever Dated)- Addendum

I briefly dated a guy once who wasn't good enough for me. My friends and family are usually very supportive of the things I do, but for the first time, several of them pulled me aside on different occasions and told me that he shouldn't be in my life. It wasn't just that he wasn't that physically attractive (which is subjective anyway; you'll think someone is good-looking if you really like who he is), but he had a really ugly personality--incredibly insecure, selfish and sadistically cruel. But he played the victim well, which was how I got drawn into that mess. In hindsight, I learned a lot from those months--about myself, about what I want and deserve, and about not feeling obligated to take home one-eyed, three-legged kittens from the dumpster that keep clawing me when I can have a healthy one. The hardest thing to realize was that I was with him because I felt sorry for him, and that at no point did I ever LIKE him as a person; that made me really question myself. Regardless, at the end of the day, feeling sorry for someone is an absolutely terrible and destructive reason to be in a relationship and I've definitely learned my lesson.

So he broke up with me and gave me the same sort of bullshit statements that didn't make a whole lot of sense given the context (sorta like what Amber's blind date was spewing). The following weeks were difficult because I was trying to make sense of the rejection and pretty much beating myself up over it, forgetting that I was just letting my ego wrap around being rejected and taking it out on myself, rather than putting into perspective who that rejector was and realizing that it was actually AWESOME that he ejected himself from my life.

One day, Roxie and Lauren were over and I was being somewhat mopey. So Roxie tells me this story:

There was this guy who liked one of her friends. Her friend is really pretty, charismatic and fun and a lot of guys like her. So there was this one short, ugly Mexican guy who wasn't in her league at all who liked her but she wasn't interested. He was very persistent and really sweet to her so finally, she started hanging out with him. At the beginning, he showered her with attention, but the more she got into him, the worse he treated her. Finally one day, he broke up with her abruptly. Her friend became obsessed with him after the breakup and became a wreck, completely FORGETTING that she hadn't even been that interested in him to begin with before he started taking away his attention! It was all about a wounded ego. The whole thing in her head wasn't even about him. If it were about him, she would have seen that he wasn't that great to begin with and whatever. But when ego got involved, it became this thing of, "This guy who isn't even on my level just dumped me, so what does that mean about me???" In reality? It means nothing. But from the way she was seeing the situation, it wrecked her self-esteem.

It's not worth it. Someone once told me, never date ugly guys. They're the ones that treat you like shit. Some girls mistakenly go for less attractive guys because they think they'll be easier to get. The first problem with doing this is that this action is indicative of low self-esteem. Furthermore, if these "ugly" guys are insecure themselves, they'll fuck with the girls, especially when they think the girl is too good for them. So theoretically, the good-looking guys will actually treat you better.

It's probably not so much about good-looking versus not. Again, it comes down to confidence and self-respect. When a person respects himself or herself, he or she will be capable of respecting other people. Those who do not respect themselves have no capacity to truly respect other people. Similarly, when people are confident, they can put things into perspective better and not let insecurities and competition run rampant. They don't have black holes for self-esteem that end up needing to destroy anything that comes too close to them, or that shines brighter than they do (or shine at all, for that matter). They can handle conflict more productively because they understand that disagreements don't threaten their sense of self and therefore, are not dangerous. Dr. Phil (I'm so sorry to quote him but a psychologist friend of mine told me this) once said, you can tell if a couple will last just by watching them fight. From all of the couples I've observed in couples' counseling, this is incredibly true. You watch a couple that goes for each other's throats, and you realize how destructive the relationship is for both partners. Versus, you watch a couple that can stay on each person's respective side, and no matter how heated it gets, they understand that deep down, they respect each other and you can feel that respect anchoring them during disagreements and know that no matter what is said, nothing that was said or done was meant to intentionally hurt the other person, and that trust and respect is what keeps them together.

Find a good person who appreciates and values who you really are. If you find yourself not being yourself because your partner doesn't feel comfortable with it, or dulling the unique aspects of your personality so as not to threaten your partner, you really shouldn't be with him. You want someone who wants you to be you and wants the best of you to come out, and with whom the feeling is mutual. It seems so simple, but it's amazing how much undermining goes on in relationships when there is insecurity present.

4/19 Recap:

I'm finding that I'm spending most of my work day with my head in the clouds lately, just thinking about stuff. But I finished all my articles today so I've got some space to do that for a while.

I'm reading "Couldn't Keep It to Myself," which is an anthology of autobiographical essays written by incarcerated women. They were all participants in a writing workshop with my favorite author, Wally Lamb. These stories are incredibly powerful. The majority of women incarcerated in the United States have a history of being survivors of domestic and sexual abuse and the stories in this book contain examples of these common experiences. They show how abuse can really interfere and affect a person's development and relationship to their environment. When the women discuss themselves as children, you can see how, with a more nurturing environment, the lives of these women could have very easily turned out differently and so much better. It's really sad when some of them talk about how much they needed their parents' love, how vulnerable they were to their parents, and the ways in which they were rejected and hurt, and how this need to be loved and subsequent rejection caused them to repeat patterns of getting into destructive situations or acting destructively.

Teaching people how to use the past for growth and strength and to be conscious of not perpetuating these cycles of violence and self-hate is the key to ending this cycle. And those who have gotten to the place where they have stood up and stepped out of the cycle, have to be willing to reach out a hand and their heart to those who are lost in it. Healing this pain and giving support to people who are going through this difficult but brave process is one of my life purposes. One day, I hope it makes some sort of a difference, even if it's only to one person somewhere out there in the world and I never know about it. That would be really validating.

FOR AMBER:

Amber (www.ambernicole.blogspot.com) posted about a blind date in which, at the end of the night, the guy told her that she was awesome and the funniest person he'd ever met, but then goes on to tell her that he doesn't want to see her again, citing:

when a guy gets to be his age (28, only three years older than i) they become very selective, and know exactly what they want and don't want.

Amber was initially shocked but then appreciated his honesty and thought it showed his good nature and character.

************

FUCK THAT!

The guy is a narrow-minded, shallow, cowardly dick who was too scared to get to know you as a person. Because if you were as cool as he thought, he wouldn't have minded getting to know you possibly as a friend or acquaintance, rather than saying that he never wanted to see you again. He sounds really insecure. He probably went on one date with you, realized how much more charismatic, witty and intelligent you were than him, and rather than saying, I can appreciate her qualities or admitting, I think I'm intimidated by her, he lied to himself and said, she's not my type. [because she makes my penis feel small]. That's why he didn't want to explore this anymore at all with you. If you just weren't his type (ie The One), he would still be willing to hang out, or at least put that out there. He doesn't want to see you at all, stating high and mighty bullshit about marriage and selectivity to make himself feel better. I can't remember which comedian said this, but let me modify this line to serve my purposes: Amber, I would never hit a coward, but I sure as hell will SHAKE the shit out of him!

Dumbass.

Through all my dating experiences, the one thing that I've realized to be a dealbreaker across the boards is insecurity. Now don't get me wrong, we're all human and no one is 100% confident all the time. Also, arrogance is just the disgusting, aggressive defense mechanism of inner insecurity so that's the ugly end of the dog, too. But a guy who knows and appreciates his own qualities enough to be able to appreciate other people's, rather than being afraid of anyone who is in any way better than him, is so much more attractive and so much more FUNCTIONAL to be around, be it in a friendship or relationship. There's probably more insecure scrub than guys with healthy confidence out there, but it's nothing to get down about. The good ones are out there and they're great people and worth it. At the end of the day, the others aren't even worth wasting your time spinning your head over.

Not to bring it back to "Room Raiders," but...

So one thing that pissed me off about the show. This Playboy jackass explains to the two girls he didn't choose why he didn't choose them. Both of them blubber out defenses as they're leaving, saying they just want him to know blah blah blah. What pissed me off was, YOU GIRLS SHOULDN'T CARE WHAT THE FUCK THIS GUY THINKS. They could totally tell when they went through his room that he was a vapid personality.

If I were one of them, I would have left saying, "Yeah...maybe I sleep in footed pink one-piece pajama suits on a cot in my parents room surrounded by stuffed unicorns and I collect Magik cards and have a shrine dedicated to Aaron Carter, but I don't fucking care what you think of me because you're a big fucking cheesedick loser." I hated that these girls were apologizing to this stupid guy when they obviously seemed cooler than him.

So the problem with rejection is just ego. Whenever you get turned down, you go nuts because of the rejection. But you have to try to keep in perspective who is turning you down. If you're a cool girl, then chances are, he was some little person who couldn't handle you and wasn't good enough for you in the first place. Good thing he didn't stick around to bring you down!

Rock on, sista!

Weekend breakdown:

Friday night, I went to the Max/Dave/Rebecca/Cody birthday party. These guys all have birthdays in the same week so we lump them together every year. This is the big party each year where U of M film people come out and have a little reunion. It used to be the Max/Dave/Rebecca/Rob Party, but Rob moved to New York recently, and since Cody just moved here and has a birthday in the same week, she took his place.

We went to Boardwalk 11 which is a karoake bar in Culver City. There was another birthday group made up of middle-aged people who obviously had boring day jobs, because they were horribly offkey and stiff onstage and rowdy as fuck offstage. Ran into most of the film/video kids and it's always great to see them. AD asked if I was still getting my uncle's Lakers tickets (16 rows up, center court...AMAZING. He sometimes gives me the Lakers/Warriors games which is really nice). AD starts getting excited, talking about "remember that one game...do you remember who it was against...I think it was Seattle, yeah...anyway, remember when Vin Baker was still on Seattle so that was during his 'euphoric' state and he gets fouled with a few seconds left, but he makes one of them but misses the other but then jumps and grabs the rebound and makes a slam dunk to force it into overtime and they eventually won, which was awesome because I thought the Lakers and Kobe would win and I was like, fuck, I hate the fucking Lakers, but then it was awesome when they lost?"

I think he's drunk, so I'm like, "Was that a recent game?" AD says, "No, it was probably a few years ago." I say, "I don't think I saw it." AD says, "You WENT to the game. You took me and we sat in your uncle's seats." I say, "I took you to a Lakers game? We've been to a basketball game together before?" AD kind of looks at me funny and says,"Yeah." I'm going through my whole brain but I have no recollection whatsoever of ever going to this game with him so I just joke, "I must smoke too much crack." I was kind of embarrassed. It's such a weird feeling to have no recollection of something that had happened. In the same way it feels weird when you meet people and they swear you know each other but you can't place them.

Max H. showed up and I haven't seen him in years. We were so happy to see each other, big goofy grins and everything, but as usual, he acted uncomfortable and aloof so then I got uncomfortable and left to talk to other people. Finally, he comes over and we're talking and I'm thinking, yeah, I've miss this guy but it's always so awkward and it stresses me out. It's mostly because he's really shy and it makes me really shy and then we're both aware of how awkward it is. But it was so good to see him and he says he's shooting a lot so that's really good. Oh, he's the guy in my Match.com commercial. He's great to work with and I hope we work together again soon. Great person.

I tried taking pictures but my camera's battery crapped out, so I missed capturing any drunken debauchery. But then again, the worst of it was just when Cody and Josh went up and did Freedom 90 by George Michael and we thought she might take off her top. The party was pretty lowkey. And I didn't drink at all so that took one drunken instigator out of the equation.

On Saturday, I watched Kill Bill, then went and saw Kill Bill 2. AMAZING. I love these movies. I like when she spanks the Yakuza guy with her sword in the first one, and I like the Uma Thurman/Darryl Hannah fight scene in the second one. And Quentin uses music so incredibly well. I dig that.

Sunday, I went out to lunch at Toast with Brian, Colin and Martin. We sat next to Marko Jaric of the Clippers, and Brian kept commenting on Marko's hair. Permanent bedhead. Those in LA, get the red velvet cupcakes at Toast. I'm not a cupcake person, but they're awesome there. Afterwards, I went down to Venice Beach and just walked around, looking at the art. Some guy drew a little sketch of me and gave me breasts bigger than my head. I wasn't very impressed. Went over to that guy who sells propaganda fliers by the bathrooms to read that one he's got about how Asian men have magical penii. It cracks me up.

Sunday was a really nice day. The weather was perfect and it was relaxing to walk around with nowhere to be and no place to rush to. I really liked being by myself and people-watching, but there was a tiny part of me that wished I could have had someone to share it with, to tell my thoughts and jokes to. But honestly, no company at all is way better than mediocre or bad company. I really like having time to myself. And if someday I find someone with whom I have as much fun as I do when I'm alone, that would be pretty awesome too.

So I was trying to catch up on my reading today but took a break to watch idle television with Brian. We watched Room Raiders, which is this "dating show" on MTV where, say, a guy has to pick a girl out of three based on what he thinks of their bedrooms. The guy will go through closets, diaries, drawers, etc. pulling out everything that is private and holy. The guy on this episode was a total cheesedick-- 19 years old, ex high school football player, thinks he looks like Justin Timberlake and would like to be a pop star. So after he raids the rooms, the girls get to raid his, and this is what was hilarious--the guy had playboy stuff EVERYWHERE. Posters on his wall, playboy memorabilia, magazines, etc. And little Big Wheels cars hidden in his underwear drawer. Fucking LOSER. He explains that it all started when he was talking to a group of girls after a football game and his friend said, "You're a playboy" and it stuck, so the nickname isn't a conceited thing (of course not!). So he picks the girl who auditioned for American Idol because that was something he wanted to do and because she was really into "actressing" and that was cool. So the last shot of the show has them walking out the front door, where we see his car with what looks like a crudely handpainted Playboy Bunny ON HIS HOOD.

WHERE THE HELL DO THEY FIND THESE PEOPLE?????

Sunday, April 18, 2004


Associated Press
EVERGREEN, Colo. -- Colorado Rockies outfielder Larry Walker discovered the body of an unidentified man Sunday on his property near Evergreen. Walker called the Jefferson County Sheriff's Office after spotting the body while he was riding an all-terrain vehicle in the mountain community west of Denver, said sheriff's spokeswoman Jacki Tallman.


The body was in a wooded area near a trail on his property and not near Walker's home, Tallman said.


"Mr. Walker is not a suspect," she said. "We don't know if the person was killed at the site or if his body was dumped there."


Walker is on the disabled list and not traveling with the team.


*****************

This news story is weird. It implies suspicious circumstances. When a body is found outside of cities in less developed regions, the first thought is usually that the person is a victim of circumstance. But by discussing the discover of the body with very little facts about how the person died and by following that statement with the comment, 'Mr Walker is not a suspect...We don't know if the person was killed at the site or if his body was dumped there," it's implied that someone believes this person did not die of natural causes or by accident. By using Larry Walker's name in the same comment that attaches him to the shock words "killed" and "dumped," anxious images and associations are produced in a reader's head, resulting in these two things being associated together during the mental process of memory recall; the person making the comment subconsciously connects Larry Walker to the horrifying act of killing.

But I'm curious about this.

Did the AP writer subconciously or consciously include that idea in the article to create drama? Or did the person making the the statement, with her omission of facts and denial of a suspicion from a crime that was not even assumed, intentionally or accidentally allow a glimpse of their own suspicions?

The psychological workings of mass communications intrigue me...especially when coupled with seeing how an individual soul (person) is inherently incapable of keeping anything hidden from the collective (anyone who perceives this person) and will always end up communicating the repressed truth in subconcious yet mentally ingenious ways.

You know what I just thought of?

I was sitting here and I suddenly remembered this girl I knew growing up who was the cruelest person I'd ever met. And the most amazing thing was that she did it in a way in which people had no idea that she was being cruel to them. There was something very sadistic in her heart that made her enjoy psychologically hurting people. And yet, a lot of people liked her. She was a great people person. But sometimes, in the moments when she didn't know anyone was watching, I would see something flash across her face and then disappear just as quickly as it came, incredibly distinct despite being brief--a cold sharpness in her eyes, as though the doors to her soul had suddenly flung open, and inside her, you could see that she has no attachments to anything in this world, and that if anything were to get in her way, she would not hesitate to destroy it. I used to be fascinated with her because she scared the fuck out of me.

Dude. Gotta call it early tonight. Lauren's asleep on the couch. I don't think I wanna call anyone up to come over. So here I am...

Made myself an interesting little "recording" today. Let's say, it involved a little suggestive spoken-word rendition of LL Cool J's "Doin It" (and doin' it and doin' it well..............) But I don't have anyone I would want to send it too. There's no one interesting. No one that makes that fire burn inside of me, the kind of person that sets me off to the point that, if that door opened and that connection was exposed, I wouldn't be able to control myself to the point of having sex with him right there, public place, spectators and everything. Daaaamn. That's awesome. Maybe that connection (that mind-blowing passion which leads to indescribable sex) can't be maintained. And that's why we all get so disappointed after the relationship runs through it's honeymoon phase and the passion of discovery isn't there anymore.

God. Seriously. This is why I don't want to get married. I don't want to give up the independence, the freedom to explore and discover new people, the rush of new experiences and new connections and the various forms that love comes in. I want to feel like I am free to give myself away and not have to feel beholden to anyone. A Morcheeba song, "Once a label is on something, it becomes an it, like it's no longer alive." My greatest fear is of getting pegged, getting cornered, having to be a consistent person who has to fulfill other people's assumptions of who I am. I want to meet everyone, and be everyone, and play every single one of these ghosts and these visions. Fuck all this shit they dump on my shoulders and ask me to carry. I don't ever want to get married. I hope that maybe one day I'll find a partner who can walk by my side and explore this world with me and understand that our bond is made of the deepest, most purest love and respect, but I can't have a partnership that entails the modern-day pact of physical commitment.

I have never cheated on a single person in my life. I love and respect the people in my life and I would do anything for them. But pragmatically, I need to go where life takes me and I don't know where this is going to be. So I hope some day I can find someone who understands this and will still share a love that resonates at the deepest level even if in some ways, the relationship will be unconventional.

Is it bad that I'm reading about this Beckham affair and all I can think about is how HOT the sex sounds?

http://entertainment.msn.com/celebs/article.aspx?news=155828

Daaaamn. If you're a hot single guy, now would be an opportune time to call me.

I want to work for the Family Violence Prevention Fund!

http://endabuse.org/

I used to volunteer for Break the Cycle, a non-profit organization in Los Angeles that provided pro-bono legal services for women dealing with domestic abuse, and which also provided educational services to educate teens about what abuse is (physical, sexual, emotional). I was really disappointed because they only let the lawyers do the classroom presentations and I really wanted to work directly with the kids. But they let me run our booth at local events and I got to recruit high school interns and talk to people about what we did so that was okay. But I would rather work directly with educating and interacting with young people.

Over the years that I tutored high school kids for the SAT, I would go into their homes and really observe some of the things that go on behind closed doors. You really see a lot of things, both inspiring and appalling. I would always spend some extra time after sessions talking to my students, not just encouraging them to pursue their dreams and to stay strong through the difficulties because life gets better, but to let them know that they have an older supportive ally who would listen and be understanding, which many of them didn't have in their lives. And those times were some of the most rewarding of my life.

Since I quit that job only months ago and am not allowed by contract to do SAT work for a year, I have to wait on this but what I would love to do is start a non-profit organization that provides not just academic tutoring but specifically, SAT prep for underpriveleged students. Most high school students prep for the SAT these days, pushing up average scores and it's not fair to kids who can't afford SAT prep. I want to level the playing field. Because I taught some kids whose parents were filthy rich and these kids just wouldn't give a damn about anything, and I taught kids whose parents had scrapped together money to get them prep so they could compete for college. Some of my favorite students were in this latter group because they were motivated, good kids and you could just tell that they had the heart, drive and personal integrity to one day become amazing adults and productive contributors to society.

Someone once asked me if I thought that the problem with America is that we have too much freedom. I answered, "Yes." But the problem specifically, is that we have too much freedom, and too little guidance. Good leadership is not only about making good decisions, but about guidance--letting the people you are leading understand where they are going, who they are becoming, what they want and how they can realize their potential. It is about helping those people make their own internal connections, not laying things down as absolutes that they need to follow, ignoring the fact that they may not understand.

My example is always this: As a parent, you don't want your child to feel any pain. So you will tell him, don't touch a hot stove. Now remember, a child's #1 question is always going to be...why? Because he has NO IDEA WHY and needs everything explained to him because this is how he grows, and we, as adults, must understand this and have the utmost patience to explain in an open, gentle manner. Ultimately, it doesn't do anything to set rules and limitations. You have to make sure that the child understands why it would be to his benefit not to do certain things (ie touching a hot stove is very painful), even though, sometimes these experiences will still need to be experienced first hand to be truly understood.

This is what I always thought the problem with religion was. Dogmatic rules and regulations but to be honest, often religions evolved to not be so much about spiritual guidance, but about power struggles and domination against other competing groups (not to mention the political ties and motivations). It's bullshit.

Every person needs to understand why he should be a good person, who he is and what he wants to bring to the world and to himself, not to just be told. The fact that people have become so complacent in general has much to do with the fact that society has structured itself in a way that a small percentage is dominant and omnipotent just because, and thus, the rest must accept. People get lost along the way because there's no guidance in dominance. There's no guidance in having power. Power is selfish. Good leadership has nothing to do with power. Leadership is an unselfish responsibility. And if a person lives in a community where he can chose his leader, he must also be cognizant of this concept, and that it's imperative that we chose a leader who understands that the basic tenet of leadership is the ability and understanding to guide magnanimously.

But I digress.

I would like to start a non-profit which provides SAT prep as well as gives the youth a safe, accepting place to find psychological and emotional support as well as healthy guidance. A place where everyone walks through the door as a human being, and will treat others and be treated respectfully as human beings. And with education about dating and family abuse because there is so much more of it out there than people realize. Break this fucking cycle and get these kids into college!

Oh, this is a really cool teen center in San Diego:

http://www.epicentre.org/home.html

It uses art, music, creativity, etc. to bring kids together. I want to do something like that. So how much do you think it would cost?

I'm waiting for Brian's Adidas thing to go live on espn.com because he couldn't wait up for it, so he told me to wake him up if there are any problems with it. But it's 20 minutes after it was supposed to go live and I don't see it. I don't know if I should wake him up. Hmmm...I'll give it a few more minutes.

The day's recap...

Had lunch with Dave Stroup who edited both my commercials. Great guy who has a girlfriend named Happy. I hope they have hundreds of kids. Talking to him got me all psyched about getting back into the creative end of the film industry again. I left in such a fit years ago but it's really time to get back on it. I've got this mystery/supernatural thriller all ready to go but I have to be honest...deep down, I don't know if I'm scared to start back on it because of the dark places I'll be going during the creative process, or because I'm afraid to deal with the heartbreak of the industry again. But I think it's time I light a fire under my ass, because if I'm still refusing to work in the industry and I'm not doing at least a marginal amount of screenwriting, then I may as well move to a city that I like better.

At the very least, I should finish Iverson on Ice so I can take his picture down from my wall.

My cousin and her mom called me to say they were in town so I took them to the Beverly Center to help my cousin find a prom dress. I hate shopping probably more than most guys, but I'm willing to bite the bullet for family. My cousin is super innocent and super naive. I mean, she's a big fan of Hillary Duff. The only colleges she got into were UC Irvine and UC Davis so I was trying to convince her to go to Davis because it's the better school and I don't want her in SoCal. I know there are predators everywhere, but I would rather have her at Davis then down here. So I was telling her all my SoCal horror stories, like about my first night here where I was asked out by that really nice boy-next-door UCLA student who turned out to have just gotten out of jail for cocaine possession or something and lived at a halfway house. Good times.

I took them to dinner at Lala's on Melrose and we saw Stephen Baldwin there. I was so tempted to tell him that he was a crazy muthafucker on Celebrity Mole and to ask if he was actually retarded or just acted that way. But that would have involved a conversation and from the looks of the way he was talking to the waitress, he was a monster jackass.

Okay, the Adidas ad is up. Sweet. I'm off to bed.

Today's Mood: Content

New Pussy Won't Do Your Taxes

Fuuuuck. My taxes are finally done and in the mail. And not only am I finally dissolving my corporation like I've been threatening to do for years, but I got out of the creepy and inappropriate hug that my tax guy likes to give me each year because I went in sick. Hell yeah, it's a good week. Despite the fact that I owe this year. I had no idea I didn't have 9 dependents. You would think that Peyote, my lazy ma'fuckin turtle, should count for at least 2 with how much angst he directs at me.

God, being at work is so damn boring. I'd rather be in Bora Bora.

April 14th, 2004 Recap

7:12am - wake up
7:32am - shower
7:36am - exit shower
7:36-7:45 am - contemplate going back to bed
8:22am - arrive at work
8:44am - nod off at work
9:22am - nod off at work
9:35am - nod off at work
10:20am - nod off at work
10:32am - heat up some matzo ball soup and eat it lukewarm because i don't have the patience to wait for it to get hot
10:44am - sign for fed ex package, return to nodding off
etc etc. etc. etc.

3:58pm - go home early, rip off my shirt before I'm even through the front door, take theraflu and go to bed.

This flu-like thing I've come down with today is kicking my ass. It's from a combination of lack of sleep over the weekend, being on a plane for so long and allergies. But theraflu is a godsend.

I've been trying to put the rest of my newspaper articles up on my website, but I'm finding myself...nodding off. I may as well put on a wool shawl and heat up some Ovaltine because I've turned into my grandmother. When I get all my articles up so I can actually be productive with the site and try to get some freelance writing work, I'm going to ruin my professional credibility by adding a photo section. So stay tuned.

Random thoughts for today...I caught 5 minutes of Taxicab Confessions...these two girls were in the cab and I guess one watched the other have sex with her boyfriend and she was all critical of the sex. "It was boring because she was lazy." And then the other girl gets really defensive like, "Well, it was because I've never had someone watching...I mean, if it hadn't been three of us there, I would have pulled out the vibrator." Now don't go crazy there all at once, girlfriend! Pace yourself! I have a love/hate relationship with shows like that. They're like psychological/social car wrecks but I can't stop watching.

Have you guys heard Dane Cook's standup where he talks about how, whenever someone hears a car slam on the brakes and the tires squeal, there's a part in each and every one of us that gets a little bit disappointed when it's not climaxed by the sound of a crash? That's so fucked up but so true.

So today was the last day of basketball season. I'm almost relieved because I'm tired of keeping up my fantasy team and getting hate mail from dumb men who have nothing better to do. I'm never going to play again. I kind of hoped to go out with a bang by winning the whole thing and getting the plasma, but 2nd place isn't so bad. As for the playoffs...go Kings!

Did I ever mention that my cousin up in Sac-town had a baby? Devon...Born February 27th. Yeah. No one even told me that his wife was pregnant. Everyone just assumed I knew. But I met Devon for the first time last week and he's beautiful. Children are absolute miracles. Why anyone could hurt them, I honestly can't understand. I'm completely torn. I really want to go to psych grad school and work with abused children because the cycle has to be broken and so many people can become survivors rather than victims and/or future abusers, but I just have such a tough time in a classroom setting. I probably skipped 40% of my classes in undergrad because I just couldn't be in a classroom, but I still graduated in 3 years with honors and two degrees so I don't really think I need to be present in class to do well. I just can't stand being cooped up for so long, with everything moving so SLOWLY. It drives me nuts. And grad classes are freakin' long and tedious. I don't know. I really don't know. It's such a quandary and I think about it all the time.

Okay, the theraflu is kicking in.

Today's mood: *hack* *hack* zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Anyone want to come with me?

http://www.wildernesstravel.com/itins/inwake.html

Damn...I need to not have my alarm set on NPR in the morning. I'm having the most violent dreams because they're always talking about Iraq.

So it's a little after 7am and I'm up, which is tragic. I can either go to the gym or get ready for work and go sleep at Coffee Bean like a homeless person for an hour.

I talked to Sarita yesterday about wanting to move back up to the bay area. I don't think I would do it because I love my circle of friends down here and I go through this stage at least twice a year, but there are times when I really hate this town. Being in Seattle was great because of the sense of community and how friendly people were up there. I mean, down here, I'm so friendly, warm and sincere that I feel like people think I'm easy to take advantage of. Back home in the bay area, I would be able to help an old lady across the street without her thinking I'm going to ask for money or steal her purse, or smile at someone's babies without her thinking that I was sizing up her kids, trying to figure out how much the little blue eyed one would go for on the black market. But of course, maybe I'm projecting. It's probably true that I can be comfortable/uncomfortable anywhere. But I really hate how values are fucked up down here. And that I don't feel comfortable being my natural little miss Helpy-Helpy self.

Mornings smell so gooood.

I just got back from the Lakers/Warriors game and watched the Warriors blow a big lead. I'm in love with Brian Cardinal. We used to exchange smiles a lot when I would go up to Oakland to watch the games with my dad (we sit right behind the bench). I hope they keep him next year, because I'm planning on making a sign that says, "Brian Cardinal...Will You Be My Baby's Mama?"

What? You think that's weird?

(i'm just kidding)

Today was a strange day. I found out a piece of information that was a bit unsettling. Let's just say, I don't understand why men lie. My friend, whom I will call Urethra Doy to protect her identity, suggested that I not expound on the situation just yet, in case my blog ever turns up in a google search of my name. I don't want my plans to creatively handle this situation to be foiled. But all you out there, tell me...WHY WOULD A GUY LIE ABOUT SOME BASIC FACTS ABOUT HIMSELF?

Any theories would be highly appreciated.

SEATTLE VIA SPONTANEITY

So on Friday, I left for lunch at work to take my brother to the airport and decided to hop on a plane to Seattle myself. I like traveling alone and there's such a sense of adventure to it. Plus, I've always had a feeling that Seattle is a city that I would really enjoy.

Here's a summary of my trip:

Day 1:

Arrived at 8pm. Showered, got dressed and asked the taxi driver to take me to wherever is cool on a Friday night. He drops me off in this area where there are a bunch of bars/clubs all within blocks of each other. Apparently, if you buy a $12 cover, it gets you into 12 clubs. So I go to one of them but it's still early so I spend some time chatting with the bouncer about the city, telling him that I'm thinking about moving here. He tells me that the best thing about seattle is how nice and diverse the people are. I need to eat so he directs me to a pub around the corner that is supposed to have awesome food. I go to that pub (McCoy's) and it's a quaint little place that commemorates firemen. The only space in the bar is at the counter so I sit next to an old man who stares at me. Finally, he declares that he wants to buy me a drink and won't take no for an answer. So I'm ordering my food and he's talking to me about what he does, etc. He's really nice and a little bit crazy, like someone's eccentric uncle, even going to the lengths of taking out his dentures to show them to me. I'm listening to him talk about his life and he's decided that he shall call me Rosebud and then later, he decides that my name will be Sunshine. And I'm apparently the nicest person he's ever met. At some point, some guy pressed up against the bar between us to order a drink and the old man tapped him on the shoulder and said, "You need to say excuse me to the Lady." The guy was confused and I said, "No, it's not a problem." But the old man tells the guy he's got to apologize for invading my personal space or he'll break his legs. So things are a little tense and the guy moves away and the old man finally gets up and goes home. He wasn't a bad guy, just lonely, I think.

I go back to the club (Fenix) with the cool bouncer and the band is set up and playing. They're an 80s Hair Band Cover Band and played Sweet Child O' Mine, Pour Some Sugar on Me, Panama, Living on a Prayer, Cum On Feel the Noise, etc. They were pretty rockin'. I LOVE Seattle's music scene and this wasn't even a measurable taste of it! I saw a really hot guy who had the body of an Abercrombie model and the face of Andrew Keegan (10 Things I Hate About You) walk in and he was by far the hottest guy I'd seen all night. We made eye contact and smiled, and he came over and talked to me. Turns out he (Herbie) and his friend (Ryan) are from Wisconsin and they were really nice and fun. I find out that he's been published in The Onion and I give him major props--hot guy, writes for The Onion, likes hair bands, and acts like the boy next door and seems suspiciously gay? Damn. He's the man of my dreams. But I'm not really looking for anything on this trip so I get up to leave.

They leave too because they're going to hit the other 11 bars. I go downstairs where there's a DJ spinning. The dancefloor is a trainwreck--way too many middle-aged white people trying to dance to trance. I watch for a while but decide that since I've had 3 drinks already which is over my limit, I had better check out the other bars before going home to crash. I leave and run into some drunk girls celebrating a birthday; they were looking for the Fenix and so I took them back there, since it was the only place in seattle whose location I knew. I hung out with them for a bit. Some dork tried to talk to me but I wasn't interested. He mentioned that he was just at a place called Larry's across the street that was a hip hop club now. I think, "Bruthas!" so I excuse myself to get another drink but instead, I leave to check out Larry's.

Yeah, as I had hoped, the place was filled with bruthas. Great music, a huge screen playing weird ass videos and the occasional G-Unit video. So of course, I order up a Hypnotique on the rocks, because it seemed to fit the environment. I'm pretty buzzed so I just want to be in a corner and dance by myself, just me and the beats. But people keep coming up and trying to dance with me. One guy wasn't bad so I let him dance with me, but then when he was gearing up to kiss me, I excused myself to get a drink but just get water at the bar. I came back when he had moved across the room but some other guy came up to dance so I had to excuse myself to get another drink (getting more water). I was feeling pretty tired so I decided I would check out one more place and then call it a night. I went to the club next door and the first person I see is the guy who works at the airport whose job is to hail cabs. He recognizes me and wants me to dance. I'm really worried about my ability to stay on my feet at this point, so I dance with him but as soon as the song is over, I tell him I've gotta jet. He insists on walking me, and then tries to pressure me into letting him give me a ride. I keep turning him down but he starts getting more aggressive. Since we're right next to the Fenix, I tell him that I have to go inside and say goodbye to a friend who's having a birthday. He wants to wait for me but I tell him no and I go inside. I watch the band for a few songs just to sober up some when in walk the Wisconsin boys. The bar is closing down so they want to know if I want to go with them to an after hours dance club. I agree so we head over there. We dance some but then these two girls from England start macking on them. Being the Leo-Riser that I am, I felt a twinge of jealousy but measured them up and decided I wasn't threatened;I just watched it play out and didn't care. The girls kept talking about astrology which I found annoying (surprisingly) but finally, the boys want to go home and asked if I wanted to crash with them and head out to breakfast with them in the morning. I agree and we head back to their room. At the hotel, Ryan says, "You know what we should do? We should all make out." I decline because I'm not attracted to Ryan on top of that being just weird, and plus, he had already grabbed me and kissed me at the after hours club to celebrate getting in for free. Since Herbie had made so many "jokes" about being gay, I declared that it was safer to sleep in Herbie's bed so I got into his and we had a great conversation about writing. He tells me he wants to get my number so that we can keep talking and maybe he can hang out when he comes out to LA, or if I want to visit him in Portland (where he's currently living). Ryan kept yelling over to us, "Herbie, why are you guys not making out yet?" Honestly? I don't think he's exactly straight. But I did appreciate watching him change into his pajamas.

Day 2:
I ended up slipping out of the boys' room early in the morning because I felt weird about waking up having slept in the clothes I wore the night before. Plus, waking up being spooned by the most gorgeous man I've ever met is going to completely fuck up my standards when I get back home. I already cry every time I drive through West Hollywood. I walked back to my hotel which was a couple of blocks away and took a short nap. Got up and went to see the Space Needle, which is interesting from the outside, but just feels like a tall building from the inside. I think the optimal way to experience it would be to take a helicopter ride around it. I bet it looks really cool close up from the outside. Then I walked over to Pike's Market, had some oysters and chowder, watched 1 fish get thrown, and sat on the grass with all the other bohemian types, though I was good and didn'tt ask anyone where I could score some weed. That area reminds me a little bit of 3rd Street or Farmer's Market because of all the people playing music and all the fresh produce and arts/crafts for sale. And of course, the plethora of yuppies. The one music act I liked was called The Kitchen Syncopators, and they played homemade instruments that seemed like they were right out of O Brother Where Art Thou. Same kind of music, too. Very interesting. I walked around the city picking random streets, just observing the areas, the buildings, the cars and the people. This city has such a good vibe. I could definitely see myself living here. I went back to my hotel to take a nap, then went to dinner at a Japanese fusion restaurant called Dragonfire (?) . I had the 5-spice Salmon which was AMAZING. Best salmon I've ever had. Then I went over to the bar/club area and hit Larry's first. This white guy named Jamie who had an interesting manner and aura about him came over and talked to me and he was surprisingly intelligent and well-read (surprisingly only in that, you don't find many young guys in bars who can talk about Chaucer). I give him my number and my website address and head out. I drop by Fenix to check out the live band before calling it a night, and I catch their last two songs, Creep by Radiohead and a bangin' version of Closer by NIN. I fuckin' LOVE that song. I check out the dance floor before I leave and am dancing by myself, just feeling the beats, when this guy comes over and asks me to dance. I don't really care either way and I'm not really paying much attention to him because I'm just there to be with the music, not to participate in a ritual that leads to physical consummation. We dance for a while and he wants to buy me a drink. I find out that he's with the National Guard and shipping out to Baghdad next week. I ask him, "How many times have you used that line?" He says, "Once." He actually has his papers in his wallet and shows them to me, and I was so curious about them that I read the whole thing under the pulsing lights of the bar. We end up talking for a long time about what it's like going to war for policies you don't necessarily believe in, and about how he chose that path, etc. Meeting him was an invaluable experience. He gave me a lot to think about as far as what each person holds important and how separate people's journeys can be. God bless you, Matt Haber. I hope that life brings you back to your loved ones and your dreams safe and sound.

Day 3
On the taxi ride to the airport, the driver asks me where I'm from. I tell him that I live in LA but I'm originally from San Francisco. He comments that San Francisco is really wild, because there are men there who turn into women and women there who turn into men. I tell him that there are people like that everywhere. He asks me what I am. I kind of laugh and tell him that I was born a woman and will probably die a woman. Probably. Though in hindsight, I wonder what he would have said if I had told him that I was a man. He asks me if I'm looking to get married and how hard I'm looking, and about how in Seattle, men think about futures when they see women. He gives me a rather interesting lecture about how men in Seattle don't cheat and are not looking for just sex, but if you seem wild, these men won't go near you. Except the people who use drugs. They cheat. At the end of the cab ride, he wishes me luck in the pursuit of a husband. I give him an extra large tip for his unabashed candor. The next few hours are hell, as I take a flight from Seattle to Boise to Salt Lake City to LA.

But this was overall, one of the best solo journeys I've ever taken.

Next destination? Probably Portland... :)

Back from Hiatus!

Hope you guys haven't given up on me...

So last week my infamous little brother was in town staying with me. Here are the highlights:

--we were getting ice cream with my friend Lauren when I caught him giving himself the manly scratch. He saw me looking and got embarassed and went, "Oops, I'm not supposed to do that." Then he turns to Lauren and says, "Hey Lauren..." I cut him off because I figure he's about to say something really inappropriate like, "Hey Lauren, my mom tells me that it's rude to scratch myself in public." So I say, "Michael, NO." He gets defensive and says, "Julia, I'm not going to. Hey Lauren..." I say, even more firmly, "Michael, NO." He says, "JULIA. Hey Lauren..." I say, "Michael, DON'T SAY ANYTHING INAPPROPRIATE." He yells, "I'M NOT GOING TO!" I shut up because I don't want for there to be a scene. Michael turns to Lauren and says very seriously, "Lauren, my mother has a drinking problem."

He meant that she dribbles when she drinks soda. But I love that he promised he wouldn't say anything inappropriate then tells everyone in the room that my mother has a drinking problem.

--Anna, my bitchy downstairs neighbor, calls to complain because whenever Michael stays with me, he's so heavy that apparently, her chandelier shakes when he walks. So she always has to call and complain. My brother overheard me telling Brian that she's an asshole and that next time I'm giving Brian the phone because he's meaner than me. So my brother tells me that night, all chivalrously, "Next time Anna calls and I pick up, I'm going to tell her that she's an asshole." I patiently explain to him that these are things we say to people behind their backs and not to their faces, and that it would be best to say, I appreciate your concern (sarcastically) and hang up. So he says, "The next time she calls, I'm going to say, 'Thank you for calling, I appreciate your concern, but you're an asshole." I suppress giggling at his innocence and tell him again, "You can't call her an asshole." He asks, "Can I tell her she's annoying?" I say, "I'm sure many have."

--on the shuttle to the airport for his return trip, my brother puts his arm around me and tenderly kisses me on the cheek. Then he says, loudly enough for everyone in the bus to hear, "I love you, Julia. I think last night was our best night together." How awkward.

I'm in Seattle! Took a spontaneous trip. More details to come...

and I've discovered that I really like to touch myself. I don't mean touching myself like sexual, masturbating every moment I can get type of touching. I mean, I'm always feeling the skin on my stomach, stroking my arms, smoothing my eyebrow, etc. Even when people are talking to me. Because I like the way things feel. And it's comforting. I love the way my warm skin and the subtle contours of my landscape feel against the tips of my fingers. Because when I do this, I love that I'm me and that I'm in my body, and this body is beautiful and captivating to me, and I could spend lifetimes exploring it. In those moments, I have such a deep feeling of contentment that this state of being is the only thing that matters. I realize I just want to be with someone because, I want someone who gives me his permission to touch him and to appreciate him, to understand his body and to be soothed by the feeling of his warm skin and his subtle countours against the tips of my fingers. Someone I can envelope in this state of contentment and appreciate the way I appreciate myself when I'm alone. What I want most is someone to love, who will let me safely love him. I'm not looking for someone who will love me adoringly in a way in which he will never truly get to know me well enough or understand me enough to honestly appreciate me. Because it takes away from having to earn it, the place where you understand and appreciate that you are beautiful and worth exploring and where, in essence, you learn how to truly love other people.

Brian and I went to Wahoo's for dinner tonight and as we were served our onion rings, a fight broke out. So these two guys are headlocked and rolling over tables, smashing into seated customers and slamming into the glass window, so hard that we seriously thought one of the guys was going to get thrown through it. And then a chair goes flying through the room, crashing into this thrashing mound of bodies. Behind us, people sourrounded the area; some gasped in disbelief but were riveted; others were fixed in stances of stern disapproval. One guy at the table closest to the brawl got up and said, quickly, "Uh...let's leave." He and his dining partner grabbed their coats and awkwardly exited. Other people blatantly ran out of the store, frightened. Meanwhile, Brian and I sat there, watching curiously just feet from the action, like, "Are they fighting? Oh yeah...those guys are fighting. Hey onion rings." Like it was dinner fucking theater.

What is wrong with us? Just sitting there like amused audience members. And meanwhile, all I can think about is, I wonder how each and every individual person in the room is experiencing this collective moment, and how awesome it would be to experience each of these different perspectives.

I wish I could live a million lives at the same time, see the same things and the same life from a million different eyes, and then be able to remember all that I have seen and have felt, all of this, before I die.

I need a kindred spirit/partner in crime who will do things like this with me:

www.blackpeopleloveus.com