Contributing country charm to the busy city.

I'm scared

2009-01-07T18:15:00.000-08:00

.. of life after college.

Why do we work ourselves to death? Maybe this only happens in New York but I feel like there's this mentality of work work work work work stress stress stress stress stress. You're at your job from 6:00 AM - 7:00 PM (I'm including waking up, getting ready for work, getting to work, and going home from work in this time-frame) and then you come home, exhausted, stressed out, migraine, and you have a few hours but first you hafta cook dinner (which seemingly takes forever) and change out of your clothes, shower for the next day, maybe watch a T.V. show or two, call a friend or family member to say hi, set your alarm, fall asleep, and BAM! wake up and do the same thing all over again!

So then weekends. You can go out Friday night and count that as part of your weekend but chances are that you're exhausted and having a glass of wine is only going to embolden the sleeping monster that's creeping up behind you. It's ten o'clock, you're in a dim bar, your teeth are just starting to stain red with your first glass of cab and you're already checkin' your watch, seeing when you can get out of this shin dig so you can crawl into bed. Hey, it ain't the company; you've just had a long week at work and nothing sounds more appetizing than your delicious bed complete with down comfort and foam mattress pad (assuming you make enough to afford the aforementioned luxuries).

So then it's Saturday and yay you get to sleep in! But then right around 12:30 or 1:00 in the afternoon, you start to feel guilty 'cause you're like man, this is the only time I can go out and run errands and do fun stuff in the city that I live in. But then part of you definitely doesn't want to plan anything, doesn't want to get out of this bed, put on clothes, and get out there in the real world. And then it's Saturday night: do you go out, stay in and relax?

Sunday comes way sooner than you feel comfortable with and then it's time to start thinking about Monday, stressing about work and dreading the week.

So why do we do this to ourselves? We have to in order to make any sort of living. You can't live on nothing. And there's this general mentality like duh, after you graduate from college you either go to grad school or you get a job. Some lucky few get to travel because they were financially prudent and saved or mommy and daddy are willing to indulge them for a year before forcing them into the "real world."

So the pattern continues. You work from when you're 21 until you're 60. And then you get to retire. But where is life in-between? Those precious few weeks you get to take as vacation: hard-earned days that only accumulate if you pay your dues? It's like only if you kill yourself working do you get to take time off to enjoy other aspects of life.

Does this make sense? I'm trying to picture it. When did we decide that it was more important to make a lot of money (while being miserable) than to enjoy our days in pursuit of all sorts of different activities.. like travel, meeting new people, sports, LEISURE, food, knowledge, comfort, happiness...? It seems as if you are only allowed these things if you work hard (or are fortunate enough to have a job that requires little to no work with great monetary benefits).

I get the perks of having a job. It's a great way to meet people, gain a sense of accomplishment, take up your time (if we're idle, we tend to think about life too much and get depressed), gives you the money you need to live, helps with your sense of identity, etc. But I feel as if too many people are living and working in a way that outweighs these benefits. Days are flying by and we're missing all the good stuff!

I don't know.

My complaints with marriage.

2008-12-18T15:48:00.000-08:00

So I have to preface this by saying I don't have a solution for the problem or problems that I'm about to outline. I just know that I have problems with certain things when it comes to marriage and I wanted to air them out, maybe see if someone could offer a different opinion or maybe even a solution or two.

So let me lay it out for you: Why is it that women still take on the last name of their husband when they get married? Why do they abandon their last name and both take on their husband's last name and have their children take on their last name? I understand that this comes from a long-standing tradition but why is it so prevalent in this "modern" day of equality among sexes? (Subtext: Uh, maybe because equality does not really exist.). Why must I give up part of my identity and not you? Shouldn't we somehow compromise? Like we hyphenate both of our last names so we combine the two? Or we come up with a completely new last name that both of us share? Is it so important to the marriage, to the unity of two people, that they share the same last name? If you don't share the same last name, will your entire marriage be doomed to fail? Is it the glue that keeps a marriage together?

Okay so hypothetically, let's say you both end up hyphenating your name and you have your children do the same. I'll use my family as an example. I would be Rena Elyse Laborde-Jacobs. Or Rena Elyse Jacobs-Laborde. But then what the heck would my last name be, assuming I got married? Let's say I married someone with the last name Mayer-Aniston (just for example's sake of course). Would my full name be Rena Elyse Laborde-Jacobs-Mayer-Aniston? And his name be John Something Laborde-Jacobs-Mayer-Aniston? OMG. What if we had KIDS?!?%!

You see the problem. So what is the solution?! Should I shut my egalitarian mouth (cough: feminist) and just take on the last name of my husband like a good little wife? Pop out some kids and have them take his last name, etc., etc?

I say No! I shall not. But I can't come up with a solution so I'll just have to not get married until I can figure this out. That seems like the only logical solution.

... Right?

Layla says hi ("Mrrrrrerrrrr")

2008-10-25T14:45:00.000-07:00

iiiit's raaaaaining men! hallelujah it's raiiining mennnnnnnnn..! Okay. Fine. It isn't raining men. It's just raining.. like.. water. Water is falling from the sky. Well, it's falling from clouds which are in the sky. Why do I have to explain this to you? Go back to third grade science class geeze. The point is that it's raining in New York and I'm going to take a gander and say that it is probably 95 degrees in Los Angeles and some of you are lounging around in tank tops and shorts with your worn-in rainbows just taking all that fucking vitamin D for granted. I hate you. We are officially in a fight. No, there's nothing you can do about it. I know it's not your fault that I chose to move to a place that actually has four seasons. But I'm not really in a mood to admit to my poor decisions so this falls on your shoulders. You should have tied me down and not let me leave.

I don't think I've ever been this shade of white before. Serrrrrrriously . It's embarassing. I know have to get my vitamin D from a gummy vitamin, compliments of Trader Joe's. This isn't natural, people!

I am about to admit to something I will later regret. But it's just bursting out of me and I gotta let it ring free.

I am jealous of people who are married.

I know. I know. Like WHY?!

I actually don't think I'll take the time to explain. Just know that I am jealous of people who are married.

2008-09-21T09:22:00.000-07:00

I have a daughter. Her name is Layla. She is five years old and the prettiest kitty in the whole wide world.

My feet stink..

2008-09-11T18:04:00.001-07:00

'cause I keep wearing the same flip flops every day. You can take the girl out of California but you can't take California out of the girl.

I just google imaged myself and realized that I am a porn star. How exciting! I suppose that's what I get for being so goddamn narcissistic.

Today is September 11th and it didn't feel like it in New York. It's funny how we become desensitized to things over time. Like tragedies will always be tragedies but the feelings become less overwhelming over time. With each day, we forget a little more and remember a little less.

Today when I arrived at work there was a little baggie of homemade chocolate chip cookies and a book waiting for me. I think it's the most marvelous feeling when you make new friends. It's always exciting to meet new people with the possibility of what could be. We always limit ourselves by believing that our reality is the only reality, that nothing else is possible. it is so hard for us to think outside our own perceptions and realize that there are a zillion worlds out there with a zillion ways to live, a zillion different people to meet, a zillion different experiences to experience.

I miss the things that are comfortable and familiar but it almost isn't worth it to return to them just because I miss them. If I stay static and do not explore the unfamiliar, where will inspiration come? Where will the sense of possibility be born? The truth is that it cannot. Well fuck, maybe it can. I don't know everything. Even though it may be hard to let go, more doors will open as a result.

When does one know when it is time to stop? When does one decide that it is time to settle? That you have experienced enough, explored enough, learned enough and now it is okay to close your doors and relax on your comfy couch and slowly wear it in? When do you stop living for yourself and decide it is time to sacrifice for someone else? Is it selfish and wrong to live your life as a pursuit for your own happiness? Can we expect others to put our feelings before theirs? What gives us this right? Is it morally wrong to think of yourself first? Is it truly possible to put others before yourself? Or is every act of selflessness really just a disguised act of selfishness?

I'm looking at the cover of Details right now, with Shia LeBeouf on the cover and I can't help but taste a mouthwatering bite of lust. He is pointing at himself with a very serious expression that says, "You want me? Duh." And like yeah, I kind of do. At least I want the cockiness you seem to embody in the photo.

That's why photography is so fuckin' cool. It can transform perfectly ordinary people into untouchable otherworldly objects.

India better be in the near fucking future or else.

Lilian's Lament

2008-09-10T17:14:00.000-07:00

New York has taught me how to be alone. I don't know when this happened. I was leaving the subway today and I realized that I no longer have a problem being by myself. I've always been the kind of person who felt like she had to have others around to feel okay. I don't mean no private time ever.. I've always enjoyed spending hours by myself. But to be alone means depending entirely on yourself--for happiness, for comfort, for decision-making, for amusement, whatever.

someone once told me that one of the best ways to make friends is to come to someone with an emotional problem like a homesickness and the two of you will instantly become closer over the bond that is created when two people share their feelings. there is something eminently satisfying about connecting with another person over feelings. like you can share them--your feelings--and form a deeper connection with the other person as a result. it's like "hey! there's someone else who has felt the exact same way as me." you become each other's keepers.

Some wise words that I wish I had said but someone else wrote:
It's always fascinated me how people go from loving you madly to nothing at all, nothing. It hurts so much. When I feel someone is going to leave me, I have a tendency to break up first before I get to hear the whole thing. Here it is. One more, one less. Another wasted love story. I really love this one. When I think that it's over, that I'll never see him again like this.. well, yes I'll bump into him, we'll meet our new boyfriend and girlfriend, act as if we had never been together, then we'll slowly think less of each other and less until we forget each other completely. Almost. Always the same for me. Break up, break down. Drunk up, fool around. Meet one guy, then another, fuck around. Forget the one and only. Then after a few months of total emptiness start again to look for true love, desperately look everywhere and after two years of loneliness meet a new love and swear it is the one, until that one is gone as well. There's a moment in life where you can't recover any more from another break-up. And even if this person bugs you sixty percent of the time, well you still can't live without him. And even if he wakes you up every day by sneezing right in your face, well you love his sneezes more than anyone else's kisses.

Seeing Red

2008-09-06T08:54:00.000-07:00

'nuff said.

I'm in need of a To Do List. Stat!

2008-08-24T08:54:00.000-07:00

I will never say those words to you. ever.

Man. What a fucking incredible city. I don't even know what to do with myself sometimes because I'm overwhelmed by how amazing this place is. It's funny how your dreams sometimes work out better than you could have imagined. Which is bound to happen since our imaginations can't even begin to predict the future. that's an entirely other conversation that isn't going to happen right now but.

i had always wanted to come here since I was i dunno how old. this was all based on movies and what people said about the culture in new york. i was like, damn, sounds like a place i could really fit in and find everything i'm looking for. and like yeah, it kinda is.

more like really is.

this just goes to show that you should do things even if they scare the hell out of you. if we are always lounging comfortably in what we know and never taking the initiative to push ourselves and get outside the comfort zone--put down the blankie--we will never gain new perspectives or grow or change. well maybe you will, fuck i don't know everything but just based on my own experiences, i can safely say that i wouldn't be the person i am right now had i not done some frightening things and left behind some amazing things.

but a lot of those amazing things are not going anywhere and there are constant reminders that they have been, still are, and always will be around. fuckin' rad!

Rumor has it..

2008-08-20T19:20:00.000-07:00

Life has to be a little nuts sometimes. Otherwise it's just a bunch of Thursdays strung together.

Amen. Getting settled into the routine of work all day, everyday (except those precious Saturdays and Sundays which unfortunately have been spent hung over the last few weekends). After work, it's usually about seven and then it's time to make some dinner and veg the fuck out.

I keep feeling guilty for not taking advantage of this amazing city on the weekdays but I'm too goddamn tired. I save fun adventures for the weekend.

I decided to buy a camera. It's beautiful. I haven't bought it yet. It's this huge dilemma. On the one hand, I really want to use it to take more photos of everything that is happening because I have the shittiest memory imaginable and I can't remember otherwise. Photos are so awesome.. you get to look at them and be reminded of all of the fun shit you did. I've had cameras in the past. I have a digital camera now but it is the recreational point-and-shoot kind. The new one I want is for more serious photographers. But the problem is that I am too damn self-conscious to take photos of anything. It's like I feel as if I am interrupting everyone's fun to call out "hey, photo time!" Who are these people who have a zillion facebook albums? How do they gather the courage to just assemble everyone together and take candid shot after candid shot? I envy their balls.

That's pretty stupid, right? Taking photos really isn't a big deal. I should just buy the camera and use it. FUCK. gonna do it!

If you know how to read and you have spare time (which let's be honest, if you weren't wasting your time watching Olympic speed biking, you would have spare time) then you should read Exit here. It is the most incredible book. It will completely and utterly captivate your attention and you won't want to put it down. Even when you're done with it (which will be the saddest moment in your existence), you'll continue to think about the characters. As you wait to fall asleep at night, you'll wonder to yourself, "I wonder what happened to Travis" AND you'll want to get trashed. If you want to meet someone who is apathetic (and trust me, I've met entirely too many), meet Travis, the main character of the book. The craziest shit goes down in this book and he doesn't even pause his arm's motion as he downs another beer.

Do yourself a favor and stop reading this ridiculously lame blog and read Exit here.

Woods floors get dirty entirely too quickly.

2008-07-22T16:11:00.000-07:00

It's going to be bad before it gets better. The end of my first week in New York. So far I have a bed, two fans, and today I bought my first flat screen t.v. (only 32 inches, let's not get uppity here), a printer, and a dvd player. so this is what it feels like to be financially independent. my advice: milk mommy and daddy's money teat for as long as humanly possible. I never used to be cheap but now I really am trying to decide between eating dinner and affording printer paper. (i chose the printer paper--you never know when it can come in handy. plus someone once told me that food is a waste of money because all you do is shit it out.. wise person!).

i think the world is still going in a fairly awesome direction when disney is producing a third high school musical. i will be happy so long as they keep making those amazing movies. the moment they stop, you can forget about seeing a smile on my face because nothing quite does it for me like "Everyday." If you have no idea what I am talking about, maybe we should rethink our friendship and you need to get off the computer and get your ass into gear to go to Blockbuster or call up your friend and ask to speak to her little sister. the little sister might give you some shit for not knowing about HSM (yes, that is the correct abreve) but let's face it, you deserve it. frankly, i don't know how you have survived this long without vanessa and zach (they are the stars of the musical, jesus).

well now you just put me in a bad mood because here i was thinking we could have a nice talk about one the all-time best disney investments.

anyway.

to all of my californians: what the fuck is dunkin donuts?? am i even spelling that correctly? they hold a monopoly over new york. they are FUCKING everywhere (just like starbucks or tourists or taxis or grime or dirt or people trying to sell you "gucci"). i remember seeing an ad for dd on randy jackson presents america's best dance crew (yeah you can't just say america's best dance crew anymore.. it's gotta give props to the producer.. although i think they've taken to abbreving that as well [ABDC]; another side note: that show RULES). ANYWAY they had a commercial for this ridiculous chain called Dunkin' Donuts (again, with the spelling) but i never thought anything of it because they don't really exist in southern california. hop off the plane in new york and BAM! dunkin donuts CENTRAL. they serve coffee (iced, hot, chocolate, caramel, vanilla shot?!%!), donuts (oh! surprising!), FLATBREAD SANDWICHES (ewww), PIZZA (double ew), etc., etc.

the point is that i'd like in & out burger to take the place of dunkin donuts. maybe that's why new yorkers have this reputation of being so pissed all the time--they're missing their fries (animal style, thanks).

also, can someone please tell me what yonkers is.

TFA is taking us to Baltimore tomorrow. I'm looking at this like a partial vacation: air conditioning, cable t.v., a gym, carpet, and maybe, maybe, maybe (fingers crossed) a jacuzzzzzi!!

oh man. that'd be heaven right about now.

Hello, New York.

2008-07-21T16:09:00.000-07:00

California girl on the east coast. I came up with an idea about how glamorous and exciting it would be to live in New York. This idea stayed nestled in my head for a good 5+ years. When it came time to graduate and people asked me what I was going to do, the first thought that popped in my head was: live the dream and go to New York.

Dreams are cool. But sometimes unrealistic. Luckily I turned out to have bigger balls than previously thought. I, who have lived in California for essentially my whole life, took the plunge and a job in New York City--the place of tourists, taxis, subways, and some kind of pizza that you apparently have to fold (which I have yet to do after having eaten at least 7 slices). Call it passive aggression but i ain't gonna fold my damn pizza, thank you.

So people call me and they want to know. How's New York, they ask. Man, if only I was an optimist. Listen I don't know if it is the judaism or just the way I was created but sometimes i have trouble seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. and in New York, there are entirely too many tunnels and none of them are air-conditioned.

New York is cool. And I mean that. Everyone here is hip (except for the tourists--they can go fuck themselves and take Times Square with them [read: TRL]). We are super sweaty and we are still really cool. We wear headbands and cool shades and side bags and we elbow our way through Subways. We eat at hip restaurants, pay $15 for drinks, and call this place the capital of the world.

New York is surprising. One of my first complaints about the city was that everyone was in a rush and everyone was rude. In Bakersfield, when I walk into a Rite Aid, there is going to be a gentleman who holds the door open for me, a cashier who asks me how my day is going and actually waits for me to answer before saying "good" and people wave at me when I occasionally (read: VERY rarely) go for a neighborhood jog. In coming to New York, I already had my stereotypes ready: everyone was going to be extremely rude and instantly know that I wasn't a local. Instead, for every one millionth in-a-rush-maybe-kinda-rude person, there is an extremely wonderful and surprising NICE, THOUGHTFUL person. Evidence: I was riding the C home to Harlem today when an ordinary, unremarkable woman hopped onto the Subway with her baby in a stroller. Mind you, this was five o'clock traffic time so she didn't "hop" (impossible to do with a stroller anyway, unless you are a kangaroo and the stroller is your pouch... anywaaaay). Within thirty seconds of the doors closing and the subway jerking into motion, not one but TWO men had signaled the woman's attention and offered her their seat. These men were tired and seats at this hour are a hot commodity. I've considered sitting on someone's lap to get a seat when on the way home sometimes because it feels drastically better to get to sit down rather than stand and fall over with each sudden stop.

The woman didn't accept either offer but this was irrelevant. The point is that I miscalculated, misunderstood, and prejudged New York without giving it a chance to speak for itself. Yeah, it will take a lot to get used to--it's so different from anywhere I have ever lived. (Sorry guys but L.A. has NOTHING on New York.. NY is way cooler, LA is an imitation, wanna-be).

Riding the subway means no quiet, private time to myself like i used to have when I lived in LA and had to drive everywhere. A drive meant good music and a chance to reflect on whatever was going on that day (probably reminiscing about bad decisions from the night before.. collllege). Now you are constantly surrounded by people. CONSTANTLY. Your choices are either walking or taking the subway. maybe if it's two in the morning and i'm drunk i'll take a taxi but i haven't been here long enough for that to happen. stick in the ipod headphones, crank up the music, and you've got a lesser version of an LA car ride. And you know what? Today, rather than inconspicuously trying to inch away from the nearest person to create some semblance of personal space, I actually scooted closer to a nice 'n large, padded woman who reminded me of someone you'd call "mama." And can I just say, she didn't seem to mind my neediness at all.