up, up and away... barely

For weeks I’ve been looking forward to going home for Thanksgiving. That little nugget of joy has been keeping me going through the last ten or so exams. Late nights in the library, I would savor the thought that I would soon be home with my family, my dogs, and unchallenged sunshine. Today I nearly blew that thought to smithereens.

The day began like any other day in the life of a PA. After waking up at the crack of dawn , I did a little last minute studying, then ran out the door to the catch the metro to school, making it to class just in time for my microbiology exam. Once the last few dejected looking stragglers made it out alive, we all packed up and took a much needed lunch break together, ordering some much needed mimosas and bloody mary’s. I headed home after that to pack up for my flight. For the most part, my bag was empty, since my goal was to fill it with warm clothes to bring back from home. I left my apartment at 2pm with all the necessities. I had my tickets, ID, and study materials for the weekend (I know, I thought I was getting a vacation too… not so apparently) and headed down to the bus stop that would take me to the airport.

I know I should have expected it, but I’d walked by the stop earlier and there hadn’t been that many people, so I was somewhat surprised to find a huge line of at least 30 people waiting for the bus. The bus came, it filled, it went. I was now number eight. Bummer. Luckily, my flight wasn’t until five, and catching the next bus in half an hour wouldn’t be too bad. Turns out they called another bus in, so we only waited twenty minutes for the next bus. I settled into my seat and closed my eyes trying to ignore the gnawing feeling that always eats away at my composure when I have to rely on public transportation to catch a flight. In case you didn’t know, DC traffic is actually worse than LA. Add that to Thanksgiving weekend and you’ve got a hour bus ride that normally only takes 40 minutes. It was cool though, it was still only 3:30 when we got off the freeway. It was then that I in my excessive worrying decided to double check my ticket and make sure I had all the info right. I actually let the thought of accidentally getting the airport wrong dance across my mind for a millisecond (my masochistic brain likes to dream up awful scenarios sometimes just for fun). As I glanced at my ticket, everything looked fine of course: Washington to Phoenix to San Diego, departing 5:10pm. Then I flipped to the email conformation I’d printed out as well. I read it. I blinked a few times. I read it again. When I looked up my heart was beating twice its normal rate and I was gasping for air. Three letters that weren’t present on my ticket glared at me. “DCA”. That’s the airport code for Washington DC’s Regan Airport. Just then the bus pulled up the curb at its destination, “IAD” aka. Washington Dulles Airport.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I swallowed hard. Total panic set in. My heart began beating three times its normal speed. I was now approximately an hour (assuming traffic) away from home and another 15 metro ride from there to Regan. My heart now pounded forcefully in my chest as if maybe it could knock me unconscious so I wouldn’t have to deal with this sick feeling in forming in the pit of my stomach. So this is what it’s like to have a panic attack huh? How ironic that we were just learning about this disorder in class not long ago. Lucky me to get to experience it firsthand. I knew it was probably hopeless at this point, but I had to at least try to get to the right airport, otherwise Nana would kill me (she paid for my ticket). Once everyone was off the bus, I made my way up to the front to speak to the bus driver. I asked him if I should just ride it back or if I’d have a better chance with a cab. I’m not sure if he was secretly laughing at the idiocy of my situation or just didn’t care, but he recommended the cab, so I grabbed my bags and bolted out the door.

Standing outside the airport entrance, I looked around. Not a cab in sight. Naturally. However there was a string of blue super shuttles lined up outside, so I ran up the first one I saw and again explained my pathetic situation. I got another confusing look, but also I think a hint of sympathy. He said he offered rides to Regan International for $30, but how long it took to get there was all dependent on traffic. The price was honestly was much better than I was expecting, so I took it. I ran over to his van and hopped in, suddenly horrified to see six other people already seated inside. Was he going to take these people home first?! I jumped out and intercepted the driver as he was loading my bag, asking if he’d be going to Regan first. I got a non-committal yes. I was out of options anyway… I sulked back into the van, took my seat in the back and began the most anxiety filled, adrenaline pumping, and overall worst 35 minute car ride of my life.

35 minutes. It took an hour to get to Dulles, and by some spectacular stroke of luck, it only took 35 minutes to get back to Regan. Well, “only” isn’t quite the right word. I spent the entire 35 minutes shaking, teary eyed in the back of the van, cursing my stupidity, praying to the traffic gods, and hovering with my finger over the send button of my phone, wondering when I should call my dad with the bad news. When I finally saw the signs for Regan International, I was overjoyed and amazed that, pending security, I might actually make my flight! Maybe someone or something really did want me to see my family this Thanksgiving. Whatever it was that led to the total evaporation of returning traffic, I was utterly grateful towards it. I paid the driver, thanked him profusely, then flew into the airport so fast I’m surprised security didn’t apprehend me on mere suspicion of my erratic behavior. When I finally made it to my gate, I pulled out my ticket and checked and rechecked it, not really believing that I was actually going to make my plane. But I’d really made it, and with five whole minutes to spare before boarding!

Un-freakin’-believable.

I figured I’d use those five minutes to call my dad and tell him the good news.

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This year I am thankful for the fact that I gave myself that extra hour of travel time.

I am thankful that I printed out my confirmation so I didn’t realize my mistake inside the airport.

I am thankful for the super shuttle guy who knew how to put the pedal to the metal.

I am thankful for the chance to see my grandparents, family, friends and dogs for Thanksgiving.

sitting, waiting, wishing

You know that question, “If you were stuck on a deserted island what one item would you bring?” Well l’d like to look at that question from a different angle. If you were destined to stay in one place for the rest of your life, where would that one place be? For me, it’s a coffee shop. I absolutely love them.

When I moved here, I really only had a few requirements for locations. One was that my apartment had to be near a metro station for convenience. The other, just as vital necessity was its proximity to a decent coffee shop. I’m so thankful that I found a place that fits both those categories. In fact, my most proximal café is actually only a 3 minute walk from my apartment, and it’s the kind of institution after which I want to model my future café. It’s called Greenberry’s Coffee and Tea Company and it’s got its fair share of charm. Inside the walls are lined to the ceiling with mahogany shelving dotted with an assortment of coffee mugs and torani flavored syrups. Local school’s artwork hangs on the walls and currently there are twenty three painted pumpkins lined up, all creatively painted by elementary school kids. I think #14 won the contest.

Jazz is usually pumping out of the speakers in the ceiling, though every once and a while, they’re switch it up to cater to the most current holiday. Big round tables clutter the wooden floors. I love that they provide ample space to spread out and study as compared to the dinky Starbucks tables in Westwood that barely support your cup of coffee. I adore the smattering of overstuffed chairs that every once in a while I am lucky enough to nab. But the best part is undoubtedly the people. Greenberry’s is always full (probably a testament to their delicious coffee). And the people who frequent here are always diverse and interesting to overhear. On Tuesday nights the knitting club meets: a group of all ages who make sweaters and scarves for loved ones or maybe pets, who knows. On weekends, the morning bikers stop by after their sunrise ride, people meet to discuss their PhD work, or their kids in college, or they come here like me, to study in hopes of gaining enough knowledge to do something worthwhile.

Perhaps it’s the caffeine running through my veins, but sitting here watching and listening always gets me excited. It just reminds me that I am one among many, but that those many lead such different and intriguing lives. I love how there is so much knowledge and wisdom being shared all around me. That’s why I could spend eternity here, sipping coffee in an overstuffed chair listening to the world.

i said brrr, its cold in here...

Ok, so maybe its not really that cold just yet, but today I was nearly giddy when I discovered the first tree whose leaves were begining their slow but artistic metomorphosis from green to gold to orange to red. I'm told that once the temperature drops to a certain point, all the trees begin this transformation, almost like a chain reaction. I'm lucky because my apartment is situated on the sixth and top floor of my building, so most of my view consists of a vast forrest, sharing the space of course with the high rise buildings in the distance. Its disorienting at times being surrounded by trees. I'm so used to living in the desert where you can see for miles and the largest tree is a palm tree (not much of a view obstructor). I can't wait for the morning to come when I can stand out on my balcony (with hot cocoa in hand of course) and just stare in awe at the colors before me. I'll probably also be staring at my breath as it condenses instantaneously before me.

Its amazing how quickly the weather can change from oppressive humidity (August) to biting cold and rain (October). The forecast says rain for the next week. I can tell you with full confidence that its rained here more times since I moved here than it rains in an entire year in LA. On the bright side, I bought a fabulous pair of galoshes that are bright and cheery. They remind me of VanLin's yellow umbrella how they just seem to offset the any threataning mood brought on by rainclouds. My goal for this winter is to not let the weather keep me from going out or seeing the city, because it would be all to easy to curl up on my couch in Uggs and a sweater for the next four months, hibernating like my California ursine representative would have me do.

Well there is one thing that hasn't changed between LA and DC... the drivers here are just as awful, rain or shine.

music makes my world go round

I have a new computer and recently its been giving me a lot of shit.

You would think that a new computer would be a fresh slate, free of bugs and hiccups, but its not. Maybe I'm just technologically handicapped. Anyway, along with spontaneously shutting down, forgetting my settings, and whining at me in the form of high pitched beeping, it also only gave me half of my music back when I downloaded itunes again. Its hard to believe I've gone three months with less than half of my music collection available to me. Honestly, I didn't even realize the extent to which my music had been depleted. I only knew that many of the songs on my running playlist (DLed from my last computer) no longer came up on this one. The worst part was, most of my cds were back at home, so reuploading them was out of the question. What does one do when the music that defines who you are is no longer available? When you can no longer remember what it was you lost? Its almost like knowing you have some stellar memories but you just just cannot recall what they were. Theres just an unexplained hole.

Well, finally I took some action and did a little detective work. Thanks to my amazing dad, it turns out I have backups of my old computer on my new hardrive. Multiple backups. It wasn't easy, but after some sleuthing, I finally found that unnammed and inconspicuous file that housed a treasure chest of long lost music. I was overjoyed, ecstatic! There will always be something about my music that never ceases to move me, physically and emotionally. Much of it really does have a memory or five attached to it. Some of it is just so beautiful that every time I hear it I stop whatever I'm doing to listen. Some of it defines my outlook on life, like a religion or a mantra. Lots of it just makes me smile. Tonight, I spent the entire evening blasting tunes from my computer to fill up the living room and my head while I studied, cooked, stretched, and studied some more. Despite the studying, it really was a lovely night. I'm pretty sure it had to do with finally having the soundtrack to my life back.

not forgetting

Some say new technology is taking the intimacy out of our interpersonal relationships, but as a transplant to what feels at times like a different civilization, I would beg to differ. Today I came to the realization that if it weren't for that obnoxious list of ways in which I can call/stalk/keep in touch with people, I wouldn't have been able to adjust to my new life as easily as I have.



I haven't really given myself much time to look backwards. With everything school lays on my growing plate I stay pretty busy. But every once and a while, something will remind me of home. A faint whiff of my past will drift across my nostrils and if I stop for a minute I can actually recall the scent of the ocean. And in a second it all comes back to me. I am suddenly sitting on my favorite extension of sandy beach from which you can see the pacific stretch out to malibu on my right and long beach to my left. Behind me are people roaming the sidewalks selling love and music and medicinal marujana. But I digress... (see, even now I censor myself).



I can't let myself dwell on these thoughts too long. There is too much to do in the present (technically, I should be studying for tomorrows exam). I don't want to forget these wonderful memories, but I do feel as if there is so much other information to learn that I should be prudent with my reliving of them. Luckly, one thing I insist on making time for is staying connected with all those I love on the west coast. Thats where I am happy to pay homage to the gods of communication. So thank you for my cell phone so that I may get weekly updates on love lives, successes, hardships or even just to discuss the best outfit to wear out on a friday night. Thank you for Facebook, so that I may get photos that bring a grin and a chuckle to my face in the middle of the library. Thanks to gchat for allowing me hear about the escapades of my roommates and friends. Many thanks to the airplanes that brought my friends and family out here to keep me company for a few days. Thanks even to the postmen who deliver handwritten letters telling me I'm still missed. School is challenging, and bereft of time for socializing, though I'm trying my best. But having that connection to home no matter how disconnected I really am from it, is so worth it.

its about time

I made it. I finally made it to exactly where I want to be. Incredible how things can sometimes just fall so gracefully into place, you almost forget all the stress and effort it took to get there. Its such a high. Hopefully I can continue to remind myself of my unbelievable good fortune over the next two years, even when my eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep, my hand shaking from caffeine overload, and my brain feels like its about to herniate through my foramen magnum due to too much cramming for anatomy exams. Nope, I won't take it back. This is exactly what I wanted and still want.

I'm now situated near a new ocean, a new coast, and a new (and for the first time varied) climate. At the end of July, I moved out to Washington, DC to begin grad school at The George Washington University (yes the 'The' is part of the name) and eventually obtain my masters in Physician Assistant studies. With my PA-C or certification, I will legally be able to practice medicine under the supervision of a physician. Eventually, I will be able to see my own patients, prescribe medications, order lab tests, and diagnose and treat patients. Pretty awesome I'd say.

Just a few weeks ago, we got our first set of white coats. A day later, I donned my white coat and interviewed my first patient (granted they were patient actors, but they were VERY convincing). In just a few weeks, I will know all the components of performing a physical exam. In just a few months, I will be expected to go on rotations with third year medical students. Its all happening faster than I can keep up with it, but its exciting nonetheless.

I have another goal while I'm here and its a goal I try to accomplish any time I go to a new place. I am determined to see as much of this city as is humanly possible. Who knows how long I'll be in DC, so just like in LA, I plan to immerse myself in the culture and history as often as I can, considering of course the obligations dictated by my tuition dollars. Luckily, books are portable, so perhaps one day I'll get to tell you how I was studying in the Library of Congress and taking a study break by the Washington Monument when I ran into Obama walking his dog outside his house (the big white one) on Pennsylvania Ave, and how he asked me for advice on how to fix our healthcare system. Hey, it could happen.

Stay tuned...

musings on sin city

Wow, I'd like to apologize now for severely neglecting my blog the last few weeks. To my defense, I've been quite busy (mostly self-inflicted business since I haven't been employed since about March) the whole time. Three of those weeks I spent in a perpetual finals week stress mode called EMT school, and another three I spent backpacking through Europe with my sister (a decent college/EMT graduation present to myself if you ask me). Now that I'm back, I'm trying rapidly to figure out a plan to pay rent before my summer slips away and I have to pack up my life and transport it to Washington DC for PA school. If you have any creative job suggestions, please feel free to leave them here in my virtual suggestion box.

So now that you're pretty much caught up on my life, time to think of something typically LA to post about... Hey at least I'm sparing you the play-by-play of my European adventures. Sometimes I feel like people tend not to really want to hear all about Europe unless they've already been there and can hold up their end of the conversation with anecdotes about British humor or Hungarian goulash, in which case my story is really just another permutation of their own trip and writing about it for their sake would be redundant. This is at least how I felt before I made my own European memories. So I guess if you really truly want to know, ask me.

My upcoming travel plans are in country, but not in California... and yet in a way are uniquely LA just because so many of us Los Angeleans make the pilgrimage to this desert oasis every weekend. Where is this rite of passage mecca? Vegas, duh.

Vegas holds a special place in my heart. Even way before I was of legal drinking age, my family would plan vacations to the city of lights and my cousins and I would wander "lost" in the casinos for hours while secretly searching every slot machine for forgotten change. I'm still bitter that they recently converted all their machines so that they no longer dispense coins with that loud, clanking, let-everyone-near-know-you're-a-winner-even-if-its-only-dropping-nickels sound, but instead feed you an anticlimactic slip of paper with your final tally which you then have to turn in for real cash. Anyway, we probably came out more ahead by the end of the trip than any of the adults... Unless of course we blew it all at the arcade games at Circus Circus.

I once worried that Vegas would loose its charm once I grew up and out of the magic stores and water slides... but boy was I wrong. When you turn 21, this entire world you didn't know existed previously just appears out of nowhere on the four mile stretch that is the strip. I've been three times since that momentous birthday. Each trip was unique, memorable, and to put it in more realistic terms, a total shitshow. This time I'm going with a few of my favorite people on the planet for what feels to me kind of like a last hurrah, since we may not get a chance to all be together like this for quite a while. I'm stoked.

The other ironic thing about Vegas is that I don't even gamble! Ok, maybe I'll spend $5 on slots or $20 at the blackjack tables, but in Vegas terms, thats nothing. Mostly, I go for the free pirate shows at TI, the poolside lounging with Fat Tuesdays in tow, sightseeing at the next big hotel (there's always a new one), seeing just how many people we can fit into a double room, buffets, watching the corny marble statue show at Caesar's, hitting up awesome clubs, looking out for awesomely ridiculous outfits, and maybe even catching the latest Cirque du Soleil show... if there's time. Like I said, its hard to run out of things to do here. Once I even managed to stay up long enough to watch the sun rise.

Well, since I don't plan on watching the sun rise today, I'd better head to bed. Maybe I'll go pick out my heels for Saturday night first...

FML

Today at work I got a phone call from the casting company I signed up with a few months back. THEY actually called ME. Normally, you have to call they're hotline everyday hoping to hear about a show that you fit the profile for and that fits in your schedule, then call another line and wait on hold for eternity until a casting director MAYBE feels like answering. Still you have to make their cut and they may turn you down on the spot. But today, they called me. And I blew it.

When I answered I was still in shock that I was even speaking to a casting director. Then she told me they needed someone for a Saturday night filming for the 'Alvin and the Chipmunks' movie. I guess I fit the 18 to look younger profile well enough. I'd actually heard about this job before, but didn't think it applied to me. Then she told me it was for a SAG voucher, which translates to pay equivalent to a union member (higher compared to my menial non-union member wages). These are rarely given out because their union member extra quota usually gets filled.

So what did I say? I said 'sorry, I'm not available that day'. Not, 'can you tell me the hours and I'll get back to you' or 'are there any other days it might be filming?'. No, that would be too logical. I didn't even get the lady's name or number so I could call her if I changed my mind. All I could think of was the fact that I'll be in San Diego that weekend for my dads birthday (I know... how can I be even considering ditching his birthday!?) . But we're celebrating on Friday night, we don't even have plans for Saturday night yet. Bye bye last opportunity to experience the film industry. FML.

the green post (for real this time)

I don't know about the rest world, but in this city, eco-friendliness is starting to gain a pretty solid fan base. You used to be branded as a hippie if you loved the earth, but nowadays, we instead scorn those who haul their shopping bags home in a hummer. I've gotten caught up in this environmental fad as well. Though I don't think 'fad' is the right word, as it implies a gradual phasing out once the next big hit comes along. If this is the case, I sure hope its not a fad, because it has some pretty important and positive consequences.

Looking back on the past few years, I've noticed a series of adjustments to my everyday life that have made me more ecologically friendly. Sometimes it seems difficult to suddenly switch over to a new lifestyle in the name of saving the environment. But when you make many small adjustments over time, it is a little easier and you still get the payoff... just a little further down the road. At the same time each new thing your incorporate into your everyday routine is also easier to maintain in the long run. In honor of Mary Anne and St. Patty's Day, here's a list of the ways I've gone (and am still attempting) to go green:

1) Recycle. Since I moved into my first apartment which came with its own separate recyclable trash can (conveniently left by the former tenants), I can't even imagine not having an extra container for our recyclables.

2) Travel Mug. A few months ago, I had a bad habit of coming to work in the morning and either stopping at Coffee Bean along the way for my favorite Cafe Vanilla, or forfeiting my dollar bills to the downstairs coffee vending machine. Both methods added up fast and contributed to needless paper waste. Finally, I vowed to learn how to use the coffee pot in our apartment which was most certainly feeling lonely and ignored. I bought a huge can of coffee from Costco for less than $10 and some yummy vanilla creamer, and started making my own coffee to bring to work in my bright yellow UCLA mug (trendy and spirited!).

3) Bundle up vs. use the heater. So this last winter, we didn't quite realize how cold our apartment could get in the evenings, even in LA. As a result, it took us a while to finally call the gas company to light our heater's pilot light. We were also afraid that the kittens (much smaller back then) would do something stupid. Good news is we saved lots of money by piling on blankets and donning sweatpants in the evening since we couldn't turn on the heat with a flick of a switch. Sometimes laziness pays off!

4) Paper or plastic? neither. Though I'll admit I don't always remember to bring them (or enough of them), I make an effort to use my own fabric grocery bags when shopping. Between my roomies and I, we have about twenty of them hanging up in our kitchen. They're definitely sturdier than the plastic option when it comes to lugging home the heavy stuff, and some even fold up nicely and fit in my purse... granted my purses are generally quite spacious.

5) Public transportation. I can't believe I almost forgot this one! Getting to and from work is a much more exciting adventure now that I take the bus. I can listen to my ipod, read a book, or just zone out and watch the city pass by on my way to campus. Its ten times better than spending money on gas, parking, and loosing my sanity to insane drivers. Oh yeah, and I don't polute the city. It's the ultimate carpool.

There are a few more things on my 'how to be green' list, but I don't think I've quite yet mastered them. They fit better on my 'ways I'd like to be green' list. Habits like remembering to turn off lights I'm not using, or taking shorter showers (I get a big fat fail in this category) would be good additions to my lifestyle, but are defintely a work in progress. Hopefully I'll be able to add those to a green post next St. Patty's Day!

a funny thing happened on the way to my homepage

This morning, as I was keeping up with my biweekly facebook browsing (I'm trying to limit my use of facebook, so this is pretty good for me), I noticed something odd on my newsfeed. A few friends were listed as attending an event called 'Taylor Swift at UCLA' and my heart skipped a beat.

Let me back up a minute first and explain that my roommates and I are obsessed with Taylor. I don't care what you think of her live performances or her self made videos making fun of her ex-jonas bf, I just think her CD (regardless of or thanks to voice modification technology) is fabululous. My apartment has probably listened to her new album at least 50 times. When we heard she was performing in LA, we tried to buy tickets but were thwarted by a corrupt ticketmaster which somehow sold out within three minutes. Sure ticketmaster.

Anyway, after spotting this event (and gawking in disbelief for a moment), I clicked on the link to check out the page. So get this, the event page details how Taylor will becoming to UCLA next month to perform at Hedrick Summit's fourth floor lounge before she kicks of her tour. Huh? Unbelievable right? I can't buy tickets to her concert but I can go for free at UCLA? And its got this legit looking poster on there as well. It looks kind of like the shiny postcard fliers you might get on Bruinwalk. People have already started rsvping and voicing their excitement and confusion on the wall. Well I showed Jackie and a few other people in the office and we all just pondered this scenaro for a second. I mean, if I can get wind of a random facebooker's Taylor Swift event, think how many other people will see this and want to go? And then consider how many people can fit into a dorm study louge... like 30 people max! How are they going to accomodate all the Taylor fans!? Well I guess I'll just have to get there early. April 1 is a weeknight anyway. People will be busy studying. Wait a minute... April 1. Anyone know what else April 1 is famous for? I'll give you a minute to think it over.
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Don't worry. I was fooled too. For a little while at least. Well done facebook prankster. Well done.

going green, seafoam green

Sorry its been so long since my last post. I feel like I haven't had anything of significance to write about lately. I kind of still feel that way... but what the hell. Even insignificant things can be interesting... sometimes.

Last weekend I finally figured out what my bedroom was lacking (besides maybe a cute guy... hey who wouldn't want one?). Months ago my mom gave me all her paint supplies and a gallon of seafoam green paint when I told her I wanted to paint my walls. I brought it all back with me and tucked it into a corner of my room, wondering when I might be brave and inspired enough to actually take on the job. Apparently it took just that, a moment of inspiration. On Saturday I had this sudden urge to upgrade my room and the energy (thanks to a delicious diner breakfast with my roomies and big bro) to move all my furniture, tape up the walls and haul out my box full of painting necessities. First though I called my mom for some last minute painting tips. She's basically the handywoman of my family. She can fix any appliance, do the yard work, and redecorate our home, as long as none of those activities involve cooking. While our zeal for cooking may differ, I'll always aspire to her talent for every other household skill. After a few hours and a few close calls almost falling off a fold up chair to reach the ceiling, I finished. I was pretty proud of my work, and probably pretty high on paint fumes. I don't doubt the cats were too. I think Mary Anne caught them sniffing the wall repeatedly. Everyone wound up happy!

Moving on to a completely different topic...

Speaking of inspiration, I was reading a blog yesterday and it mentioned how for Lent, the author planned to do one good deed a day for forty days and document each one. Lent shouldn't always have to be about denying yourself something! Anyway, I really liked the idea a lot, and despite my lack of religious identity, I think I'm going to try it out. It doesn't have to be anything huge, like saving a baby from a burning building, but maybe something big enough to put a smile on another's face. So for starters, yesterday at Starbucks, I helped a man in a wheelchair zip up the daypack he couldn't reach on the side of his chair. For todays deed, I smiled at an old man who I see every morning when I walk to the bus stop but have never really acknowledged before. Without fail, hes out there wearing this serious face while walking his dog (which looks like a pit bull mix sporting a matching expression) in the opposite direction from me. Ok, so I didn't get a smile back, but I figure its something I can work towards.

Don't worry, I won't keep a public log of each day... I would probably get disgusted with myself too hearing so many dogooder stories. Just thought I would throw the idea out there. Its kind of neat sometimes when you're actively concious of the positive things in your life and how easily you can effect others.

rain, rain, comes to LA

Here in SoCal, rain is hard to come by. But as I write this, puddles are forming outside my office window faster than they can be consumed by an unprepared (or maybe nonexistent) storm drain. If someone were to ask me what kind of rain this was, I'd probably say its pouring, or coming down in sheets, or describe it in terms of falling felines and canines. Yet, the more I think about it, this is probably just a sprinkle compared to what any other state in the country probably gets. I mean, theres no thunder, lightning or floods yet. But that doesn't mean I can't complain. Thats what we SoCalers were bred to do when the clouds gather.

Please don't take my whining to seem spoiled or ungrateful. We're just so used to our fairly consistent weather patterns here that most of us don't bother to check the weather report in the morning. We never grew up with any consistent 'rainy day' training. As a result, I'm writing to you wearing a skirt, t-shirt, flats, and jacket that wouldn't hold up against a light breeze. My umbrella is most definitely hiding somewhere in the depths of my closet. Oops.

Now I have nothing personal against rain at all. In fact I actually enjoy the rain. At least in the romantic sense. I love sitting in my apartment with a steaming cup of coffee or hot cocoa and a good book while staring out at the misty drizzle. Rain also means snow in the mountains and nearly 24 hours of smogless sky to follow. Though when I think about it in more practical terms, rain really sucks the life out of LA. People practically go into hiding as if a little water were going to melt them like the wicked witch of the west. All too often I've heard the complaint "I did not come to SoCal for this." Sometimes even from my own mouth. Others daringly venture out onto the highways, instantly get some weird case of drivers amnesia and somehow can no longer recollect the basic mechanics of driving. LA drivers are already bad. LA drivers in rain are just plain stupid. As a matter of fact, I would not hesitate to list a rainy day on the 405 as one of the top ten most dangerous places to be in the country. Its right up there with South Central. But overall, I have to give the rain some credit. I mean, it gives us green stuff, water, and duh: super cool rainbows. It's just rain is really more of an anomaly here than a mundane affair.

And there you have it. Contrary to popular belief, it does actually rain here every so often. And when that precipitation starts its impeding descent, you can bet I'll be one of those idiots in flip flops, running for cover.

extra, extra! read all about it!

I'm not normally a spontaneous person. I generally think things through to the point of over thinking them and eventually convincing myself not to do whatever it was I was considering doing in the first place (got all that?). Well, sometimes you just have to act on instinct and bypass all those voices of reason; the ones that say 'thats so not me' and 'am I just wasting my time?'. It seems that yesterday, I successfully managed to defenestrate those thoughts (look it up... its a fun word).

It began Monday when I decided to explore Venice for a bit. I meandered through the canals and slowly made my way to the beach where I had grand plans for studying the afternoon away. If you've ever tried to study in say Hawaii, then you probably already know that no actual studying really took place that afternoon. Its hard not to feel like you're on vacation when your in Venice. Mostly, I lay out on the grass staring dreamy eyed at the sparkling Pacific, and then the bicyclers, street performers, skateboarders, graffiti artists, hippies, and tourists who passed by. I can't help myself. I love people watching. Well, being the observant person I am, you would think I noticed that on my way to my little patch of grass, I walked right through a set for a show that was filming that day. I didn't actually process this odd congregation of electronics and lighting and people until I had finished 'studying' and started the trek back to my car. Of course this time around, the realization sunk in when I noticed the same twelve beachgoers whom I'd seen an hour earlier were still walking/biking/rollerblading up and down the same twenty foot stretch of pavement. Finally it clicked.

I'm not really a diehard movie/TV fan except on a few occasions of which I'm not the most proud (Twilight), but when you accidentally come across a film set in LA, its hard to tear your eyes away. I may not buy star maps in Bel Air or stalk famous people vicariously through the paparazzi, but I'm still a curious creature by nature. So when I saw this scene, I had to sit back down and observe with a number of other passersby for a while. The scene took place on a basketball court just beyond all the shops and Muscle Beach. I couldn't really tell who were the main actors but after a few minutes, I began to get the feeling one of the guys playing basketball looked very familiar. Finally, as I got up, I asked a nearby tourist if he knew what show was being filmed. His answer was "We're filming the show Private Practice". Before I had time to process the name of the show, I looked around me and suddenly realized that almost all the people hanging out around this basketball court were PART of the scene! And I was obvlivious. Another click. Wait, Private Practice? That would mean those guys out there playing basketball are Taye Diggs and Tim Daly. Click and click.

I was intrigued, so naturally I continued to stand there and chat with the extra (no longer the tourist) for a few minutes about his job. It sounded like such a cool way to experience film making without having to first be an acting prodigy. Granted the hours are long and the pays not spectacular, but you learn a lot and meet tons of people. Sounds like something I would like, but would never actually take the steps to do. But hey, it doesn't hurt to research it a little right? Well, I returned home and proceeded to spend the rest of my afternoon googling 'how to become a background actor'. After extensive reading, I found myself at the website for one of the largest extras casting agency in LA, Central Casting (some of the smaller companies can just take your money and run). They were only open three days a week for one hour to register non-union extras. Wednesday from 10:30-11:30am was apparently my next chance. I printed out the paperwork and started filling it out. I was one step closer to well, nothing. I didn't really intend to go through with it, but it made me feel better to pretend I was doing something.

Turns out all that pretending was a series of nudges towards going through with the real thing. It wasn't until I woke up Wednesday morning that I realized I'd done so much work for this that it would be stupid of me not to give it a shot... or head shot to be specific. I dolled myself up and headed out to Burbank. Three hours, a line of over 100 people, and $25 later, I had my photo in their data base and a phone number in my hand. Thats one hard earned phone number. It was also my ticket to hearing directly from casting directors about which shows were looking for extras. It doesn't sound like its going to be the easiest thing to book, but considering the multitude of interesting people I met yesterday, I really think it would be an entertaining and enlightening experience. It helps when you're not actually trying to break into the acting business, and you don't actually care if you make it on film, or meet the actors. But, regardless, I'm glad I took that leap today. It was worth it. Here comes Katie, the next big thing in the world of unseen extras!

so there's this french maid serving sushi in an art gallery

Haha... you think I'm joking.

I wholeheartedly believe that if you can think up some business idea, no matter how extravagant, you can probably find some manifestation of it here in Los Angeles. And if its not already in existence here, LA is probably one of the few places where your crazy idea might actually fly. Yesterday, my mom came up from San Diego (home to beautiful beaches but lackluster restaurants) to visit for the day. I decided I wanted to give her a memorable taste of LA. Lucky for me, her trip coincided perfectly with DineLA's restaurant week, where over 100 top notch restaurants in the area participate by providing delicious three course meals at set (and decently affordable) prices. I'd spent a good amount of time researching restaurants online, so before she arrived, I picked out an intriguing cafe from the list called Royal/T Cafe. Its located near downtown Culver City in the art district. When we arrived, we realized just how well it was suited for its locale.


The first thing I laid eyes on when I walked in the door was a enormous white dog (think the Victoria's Secret pooch the size of a baby elephant and made of plastic). This and many other Japanese influenced art pieces sat behind a wall of glass. The simple gallery space was dotted with colorful pieces of all different media, and there was a store so you could take home your very own memorabilia. We made our way to the back of the room where we were greeted by a rosy cheeked hostess in a French maid outfit. No joke. I read up on it a little and found out that this is somewhat of a commonality in some high profile restaurants in Japan. French maids serving you coffee and milk tea... Who knew? We took our seats and ordered from a Japanese/French inspired menu ( my appetizer was bruschetta, main course: spicy tuna tar tar). Our meal was deeeelicious. And it looked good too. Of course, I'm one of those people who think presentation deserves a large percentage of the score (I'm going to be decorating cupcakes for a living, remember?). There was art everywhere to make for good conversation as well. All in all, my mom and I had a fabulous meal and a quite unique dining experience. Only in LA, I say. The next restaurant on my wish list: Opaque, where your tire meal is consumed in utter darkness! Stay tuned =).

cupcake connoisseur

So one of my goals in life is to own a bakery/cafe. Yes, this is completely opposite from my current plan to go into healthcare, but knowing me, I'll want to try lots of different things in my lifetime. This is one of them.


I've already got a few business partners in on the idea too. My sister and friends are taking on roles as marketing, baking, building, and taste testing specialists. We have actually spent legitimate amounts of time discussing the details of this endeavor. My own specialty is narrow but very important: I'm making the cupcakes. I don't really know how I fell into this line of baking, but lately it has become an obsession... one that my sister has undoubtedly fueled with appropriately themed Christmas gifts of cupcake cookbooks and hordes of decorating supplies. She even got me a t-shirt from this cool maker called Johnny Cupcakes. They have a store on Melrose which I still need to check out, but they're gig is a clothing store set up to look just like a retro bakery... with apparel displayed in fridges and bakery display cases. My favorite gift however was this sweet cupcake stand made to display our creations. My sister and I made cupcakes that evening to test its structural integrity... ok not really. We just wanted cupcakes!





I think my favorite thing about cupcakes is the unlimited decorating possibilities. No two are the same. You really can't say the same about cookies and brownies. I probably could have dedicated an entire blog to the discussion of cupcakes, but for now I'll just settle for maybe posting some of my creations once and a while. That way they'll be documented when the day comes to introduce them to the world through my cafe!

i hope they serve jager bombs in purgatory

When we first went apartment shopping, my only requirement was that we be within walking distance of a coffee shop. We lucked out, because not only did we get that, but we also found ourselves within walking distance of the coolest little bar ever. It goes by Saints and Sinners, but I can rarely keep the order straight, so sometimes its Sinners and Saints, S & S, or just "our bar". Let me see if I can even attempt to describe this place.

Our first introduction to S & S was not the most reassuring. In fact it made me certain that its flashing sign was merely an indication of another trashy dive bar. Jackie and I were walking home from the bus late one night looking fugly after a day of work and class, and we were passing by the little building panted completely black, when the bouncer by the door tried to coax us in. Um... is that not a COMPLETE indication that they were probably just a bunch of creeper guys inside? We thought so. But of course, much like our cats, we were curious. Eventually we decided that we'd try the place out. One night we swore we'd just go in for less than an hour, enough to sit and have a drink and be home in time to get a decent nights sleep. Yeah... like it ever happens that way.

Pretty casually dressed, Jax and I hop over to S & S and hesitantly step inside. Boy were we surprised. The interior was dark but chic. There was a fireplace in the center, lots of places to sit, ecclectic chandeliers hanging above the bar, and... it was packed! We ordered drinks from the bartender, Ian, who turned out to be super cool. We sat down and chatted for a while and made friends with a teacher from the valley. Before we knew it, we were talking to a bunch of other people who were all buying us drinks! The shots kept coming and I stopped keeping track of the time (try the 'hellfire'- its cinntastic). Oh! And did I mention that at least once a night Ian breathes fire!? You'll have to come with us some time to see firsthand. To be honest, I don't remember much of the later half of the night, but I know we returned home hours after we had intended, stoked about our newest hang out three minutes from our house! That night we also decided that we would become regulars. Now this is not a position we were very familiar with yet. Since I turned 21, my only goal really was to get out to as many different bars/clubs/scenes in LA so I could consider myself fully cultured. But this is a new chapter of my life, and while I'm in no way settling down, it might be nice to have that one place you can always come back to (and not have to worry about finding parking). Of course becoming regulars takes an ample amount of time and dedication, but I think we're willing to take on that challenge. Since that fateful night, we've done pretty well so far.

Christmakkah in SoCal

As my roomies and I began discussing the impending necessity of dismantling our Christmas decorations, I suddenly realized how quickly the holidays flew by this year, and how untraditional my own Christmas is in general. I think the holidays take on a different meaning for me than most since 1) I live in southern California where we get exited by hail because snow isn't even part of our vocabulary (sometimes I think sunshine just isn't as conducive to holiday cheer as a good snowstorm), and 2) I was raised Jewish.

Let me qualify that last statement. When I say I was raised Jewish, I mostly mean we had a menorah instead of a Christmas tree once a year. And thats about it. We tried going to temple for a year or two, but I was deathly afraid of the old woman who tried to teach me Hebrew in Sunday school and I guess my parents weren't sold either, so we peaced out. Yet we still continued to light the candles and sing the only prayer I ever learned every Hanukkah. Now that I've been living on my own for a few years, my traditions have slowly shifted. First it was adoption of the "Hanukkah bush". Later, I gave in and started hanging Christmas decorations and buying Christmas gift wrap to be consistent with my non-Jewish roommates and because I personally think there is a severe lack of creativity when it comes to stylish Hanukkah wrapping paper. This year our apartment was quite festive. While we didn't have space for a full size tree, we made up for it with multiple mini trees, though the cats have knocked off most of the ornaments and batted them under the couches by now. I also hung ornaments from the fake palm tree in our living room. Nothing says Christmas in LA like an adorned palm tree. Jackie decorated stockings for our family (cats included) and appropriately decked mine out with a Jewish star.

On the home front, Chanukkah and its endless spelling permutations has faded as well. Maybe its because my parents, being empty nesters now aren't really concerned with continuity, I'm not really sure. But since my sister and I have gone, they too have suddenly gone over to the green and red side, leaving behind gelt and latkes for a large pine tree.

I'm not complaining though. In my mind, the holidays are just about being with the people you love, enjoying the season, and of course giving/getting gifts. How you go about that doesn't really make a difference, as long as the reason behind it is the same. I love the holidays no matter how I celebrate it. I love how Starbucks uses those festive red coffee cups and adds peppermint to everything, and how you can't escape Christmas music no matter how hard you try, and how even in SoCal, you can sometimes walk outside in the morning and see your breath. This is what I look forward to every year and am sad to see disappear so quickly. Goodbye merry wreath on our door. See you next year.