4 months ago
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Strongly Worded Letter
For those of you that know me, I constantly refer to the "strongly worded letter" as the greatest recourse of action when discovering you've been wronged. This is merely the first of many.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Secret Agent Man
When I was in college, I decided I wanted to be a CIA agent. Seriously!! Inspired by Julia Stiles' character in the Bourne movies, I was going to be stationed in Moscow as an undercover ballerina. Just think of all the amazing gadgets they could hide in a tutu and pointe shoes!! Never mind that I didn't speak Russian. Or can't bluff without giggling. I wanted to be an analyst a la Jack Ryan - the kind of agent that put the pieces of the puzzle together but never really had to wield a weapon.
I was pretty intent on it too. I even went so far as to download an application which in college is fairly proactive. I talked to a few family friends about their experiences and where they thought I might fight in. They didn't seem as interested in my classical ballet training as I had hoped but my uncle was convinced he could get me into the Navy's special operations unit. It didn't hold the same glamour that the CIA did though.
After further investigation of the agency's application I decided to put it off for a little while. I was afraid that "I have a face that would let me get away with anything" wasn't a strong enough platform for my candidacy. I continued to toy with the idea for another year or so but a lack of finances forced me to push up my graduation date and I was overwhelmed with school work.
Then 9/11 happened. The CIA has been flooded with applications ever since. Damn terrorists killed my dream!! Russia's safe...for now.
I was pretty intent on it too. I even went so far as to download an application which in college is fairly proactive. I talked to a few family friends about their experiences and where they thought I might fight in. They didn't seem as interested in my classical ballet training as I had hoped but my uncle was convinced he could get me into the Navy's special operations unit. It didn't hold the same glamour that the CIA did though.
After further investigation of the agency's application I decided to put it off for a little while. I was afraid that "I have a face that would let me get away with anything" wasn't a strong enough platform for my candidacy. I continued to toy with the idea for another year or so but a lack of finances forced me to push up my graduation date and I was overwhelmed with school work.
Then 9/11 happened. The CIA has been flooded with applications ever since. Damn terrorists killed my dream!! Russia's safe...for now.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Gullible is not in the dictionary
A few weekends ago some friends and I headed out to the Sierra Nevadas to spend the weekend at Shaver Lake near Fresno. It was incredible! I went wakeboarding for the first time, hung out, went swimming, ate a lot of tasty food and within two days managed to establish myself as the most gullible person alive.
It all started with a ghost story. That I requested. The cabin we were staying in ran off of a generator so at night it was lights out and candles lit. The circumstances were just begging for a ghost story. In my excitement, I neglected to recall that I really get freaked out and usually have nightmares. That reality suspended, I encouraged Jason (our host and my boss) to tell the story he had offered the night before but we were too tired to embrace. He stalled for a little while, but in typical fashion, I egged him on. He feigned shyness which I should have picked up on since he's a performer and a bit of an attention whore (clue 1). He claimed he didn't know any good ghost stories. But with all eyes on him and nowhere to retreat, he finally offered a "true story of something that happened to me as a child" (clue 2).
The story began as we all cuddled up on the couches and in our sleeping bags. There were some dramatic moments but I continued to remain calm as I layed on the ground next to him. Then the story took a turn. A childhood friend of his disappeared during a hunting trip only to be found dead three days later. I bolted upright with a serious sense of concern for Jason's loss. He began to tear up and pause throughout the rest of the story (what a drama queen - and clue number 3). The story got more dramatic as there's suspicion of foul play in his friend's death. Jason started to pause more and more and he seemed to be struggling for words (clue 4). Things got even more intense when his friend's brother dies in a hit and run after he begins investigating his brother's death. (Doesn't this sound like an episode of NCIS? - clue 5).
As Jason continued, his father came in from outside. As he walked past us into the bedroom, he looked at Jason and said, "you realize it was around this time of year, right?" Jason responded, "yeah, thanks Dad!" and started to cry. I was totally and utterly invested. I could already see the end of the story and was absolutely terrified. His friend's murderer was coming after Jason (I can't believe I don't see where this is going!!) and I began to panic. That weekend was the 10 year anniversary of his friend's death and the five year anniversary of his friend's brother's death (clue 6). As I became more frightened, I started to realize that I am sleeping alone that night under a window. That does not lock. There are no lights. And I am defenseless. Jason's story ended with him looking up at one of the windows and saying, "and this weekend...he may...OH MY GOSH!! THERE HE IS!!!! " and I shrieked like you wouldn't believe. I jumped and cowered like a sad little girl, my heart beating a million times a minute. I think I may have even cried a little bit.
Rest assured dear readers that I did realize that the story was a fake...eventually. But I was still so anxious that I had to convince Jason to sleep in the living room with me that night so I didn't have a panic attack in my sleep. And so that on the off chance his story was true, the killer would find who he was looking for and not kill me by mistake. (Jason I love you but that's what you get for scaring me like that!)
I managed to make it through the night and the daylight brought peace to my soul and my pulse down to a normal rate. But trust me, that wasn't the end of my gullibility. On a hike that next morning I fully believed that I was walking through an area that was used to film both an epsiode of the Twilight Zone and was the scene of the ewok village in Star Wars. It wasn't until I heard snickering behind me that I realized I had once again been fooled. Sometimes, I make myself sad.
The moral of this story is - book smarts don't equal street smarts. I pray that God gives me a husband that can save me from myself.
In the end though, I don't know that being gullible is such a terrible thing. Aside from entertaining my friends, I think it adds to my optimism and sense of wonder. When I watch movies or read a great story, I totally buy it. I get wrapped up in the worlds they create and am totally invested in the journey they are taking me on. I don't know that I want to lose that. I think you have to be a little gullible to be a romantic. I feel bad for those that live the alternative.
It all started with a ghost story. That I requested. The cabin we were staying in ran off of a generator so at night it was lights out and candles lit. The circumstances were just begging for a ghost story. In my excitement, I neglected to recall that I really get freaked out and usually have nightmares. That reality suspended, I encouraged Jason (our host and my boss) to tell the story he had offered the night before but we were too tired to embrace. He stalled for a little while, but in typical fashion, I egged him on. He feigned shyness which I should have picked up on since he's a performer and a bit of an attention whore (clue 1). He claimed he didn't know any good ghost stories. But with all eyes on him and nowhere to retreat, he finally offered a "true story of something that happened to me as a child" (clue 2).
The story began as we all cuddled up on the couches and in our sleeping bags. There were some dramatic moments but I continued to remain calm as I layed on the ground next to him. Then the story took a turn. A childhood friend of his disappeared during a hunting trip only to be found dead three days later. I bolted upright with a serious sense of concern for Jason's loss. He began to tear up and pause throughout the rest of the story (what a drama queen - and clue number 3). The story got more dramatic as there's suspicion of foul play in his friend's death. Jason started to pause more and more and he seemed to be struggling for words (clue 4). Things got even more intense when his friend's brother dies in a hit and run after he begins investigating his brother's death. (Doesn't this sound like an episode of NCIS? - clue 5).
As Jason continued, his father came in from outside. As he walked past us into the bedroom, he looked at Jason and said, "you realize it was around this time of year, right?" Jason responded, "yeah, thanks Dad!" and started to cry. I was totally and utterly invested. I could already see the end of the story and was absolutely terrified. His friend's murderer was coming after Jason (I can't believe I don't see where this is going!!) and I began to panic. That weekend was the 10 year anniversary of his friend's death and the five year anniversary of his friend's brother's death (clue 6). As I became more frightened, I started to realize that I am sleeping alone that night under a window. That does not lock. There are no lights. And I am defenseless. Jason's story ended with him looking up at one of the windows and saying, "and this weekend...he may...OH MY GOSH!! THERE HE IS!!!! " and I shrieked like you wouldn't believe. I jumped and cowered like a sad little girl, my heart beating a million times a minute. I think I may have even cried a little bit.
Rest assured dear readers that I did realize that the story was a fake...eventually. But I was still so anxious that I had to convince Jason to sleep in the living room with me that night so I didn't have a panic attack in my sleep. And so that on the off chance his story was true, the killer would find who he was looking for and not kill me by mistake. (Jason I love you but that's what you get for scaring me like that!)
I managed to make it through the night and the daylight brought peace to my soul and my pulse down to a normal rate. But trust me, that wasn't the end of my gullibility. On a hike that next morning I fully believed that I was walking through an area that was used to film both an epsiode of the Twilight Zone and was the scene of the ewok village in Star Wars. It wasn't until I heard snickering behind me that I realized I had once again been fooled. Sometimes, I make myself sad.
The moral of this story is - book smarts don't equal street smarts. I pray that God gives me a husband that can save me from myself.
In the end though, I don't know that being gullible is such a terrible thing. Aside from entertaining my friends, I think it adds to my optimism and sense of wonder. When I watch movies or read a great story, I totally buy it. I get wrapped up in the worlds they create and am totally invested in the journey they are taking me on. I don't know that I want to lose that. I think you have to be a little gullible to be a romantic. I feel bad for those that live the alternative.
Monday, September 8, 2008
What I aspire to
“I prefer to regard a dessert as I would imagine the perfect woman: subtle, a little bittersweet, not blowsy and extrovert. Delicately made up, not highly rouged. Holding back, not exposing everything and, of course, with a flavor that lasts.” - Graham Kerr
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Incompetence
Last weekend I went to LA for the day which was absolutely wonderful. I ate insanely greasy food at Pink's, ate even more at Diddy Riese's, went shopping on Melrose and at the Grove, discovered this amazing store called Johnny Cupcakes (see my blog list for his blog) and went to a show at one of my favorite outdoor locations - the Hollywood Bowl. The day was fairly close to perfect and an ideal way to close out the summer. That is, until the very end.
Prior to getting to the Hollywood Bowl, I parked at Hollywood and Highland to avoid the ridiculous stacked parking that the Bowl insists on providing and to provide my waistline with some much needed exercise after the 4,000 calories I had previously injested. I hike to the Bowl and enjoy the concert. Satisfied and a little bit tired, I head back to my car. Twenty minutes later as I finally approach the level my car was on, I start to dig for my car keys. And dig. And dig. And dig. My purse is not that big so this alone was an impressive feat. I dump the contents of my purse on the ground and after discovering some earrings I forgot I owned and reminiscing over the 24 or so tickets stubs I found, I come to the tragic conclusion that my keys are indeed lost. I knew I had them when I was at the Bowl so they are either still there or they fell out somewhere along the route back to Hollywood and Highland.
Slight panic begins to set in. I consider my options. Reevaluate my faith in humanity. Curse myself for not checking for my keys before I left the Bowl and decide that the next logical step is to hike back to the Bowl. Ugh.
So I hike back to the Hollywood Bowl checking every gutter and crevice all the way there. Tired, out of breath and slightly nervous, I ask a staff member if there's a lost and found. There is. Hope is rising. I find my way to the lost and found and discover four employees hanging out. I address a girl about my age that's sitting just behind the counter.
Me: "Has anyone turned in a set of car keys?"
Her: "What kind?"
Me: "Jeep."
Her: Momentarily blank stare.
Me: Breathless anticipation.
Her: "No. We haven't had our last drop off of the night though. We had someone turn in a key but it wasn't for a Jeep."
Me: Crestfallen. Actual panic begins to set in. "Can I take a look at my seat?"
Another employee: "Sure. What section were you sitting in?"
Me: "H."
Employee: "They shouldn't have cleared that section yet."
So I head to the seat I had pleasently spent the last two and a half hours in, however this time, it doesn't have quite the same appeal. There are no wine glasses clinking. There's no orchestra warming up. There are no LA socialites trying to impress each other with witty and cultured conversation. Instead there is trash and crickets everywhere.
After spending a good twenty minutes checking my seat and its surrounding area, digging through trash and retracing every step I had taken while at the Bowl, I am forced to realize that my hope had died and my faith in humanity was as misplaced as the object I was now done searching for. My key was gone. I had two options: call my dad and have him drive all the way up to LA with my spare key or take a cab home and have him drive me and said spare key up in the morning. Neither option appealed to me.
In the interest of stalling on making a decision, I went back to the lost and found office to give them my name and number in case my key turned up. This time there were only two girls left, both of which had been involved in my first panicked encounter.
Me: "Can I leave my name and number in case my key turns up?"
Girl 1: "Sure."
Girl 2: "Are you sure it was a Jeep?"
Me: "Yep." as I ponder how many times they've encountered people who were confused about what kind of car they drove.
Girl 2: "Are you sure it wasn't a Durango?"
Me: "Yes." baffled at the idea that she still doesn't believe I know what kind of car I drive.
Girl 2: "Because we had someone turn in a key for a Durango."
As appealing as the idea is of once again possessing a car key is, I decide that theft is not an option.
Me: "Well, unfortunately, I drive a Jeep." unsuccessfully trying not to sound condescending.
After once again confirming the make of car I drive, she picks up a key out of a tiny little bowl on one of their filing cabinets. It is none other than my car key. Which says Jeep on it. Twice. The word Durango won't even fit on my key the way it is designed.
Me: "That's it. That's my car key!!" said with an overwhelming sigh of a relief.
Girl 2: Look of sheer confusion. She inspects it closely for upwards of 90 seconds.
Me: I consider that this should have been done perhaps the first time I had visited her office.
Girl 2 to Girl 1: "It is a Jeep key!"
Me: Really now?
After exchanging looks of bewilderment, they finally hand me my key and I sign for it in their lost and found logbook. In my frustration, I didn't take the time to read the description in the logbook. I wish I knew if it was in fact described as a Jeep or Durango key. I fear this will haunt me the rest of my life.
Relieved and more than ready to be on my way I thank them and start out the door. As I walk away I hear laughter.
Girl 2 to Girl 1: "At least she got it!"
I have no words.
Prior to getting to the Hollywood Bowl, I parked at Hollywood and Highland to avoid the ridiculous stacked parking that the Bowl insists on providing and to provide my waistline with some much needed exercise after the 4,000 calories I had previously injested. I hike to the Bowl and enjoy the concert. Satisfied and a little bit tired, I head back to my car. Twenty minutes later as I finally approach the level my car was on, I start to dig for my car keys. And dig. And dig. And dig. My purse is not that big so this alone was an impressive feat. I dump the contents of my purse on the ground and after discovering some earrings I forgot I owned and reminiscing over the 24 or so tickets stubs I found, I come to the tragic conclusion that my keys are indeed lost. I knew I had them when I was at the Bowl so they are either still there or they fell out somewhere along the route back to Hollywood and Highland.
Slight panic begins to set in. I consider my options. Reevaluate my faith in humanity. Curse myself for not checking for my keys before I left the Bowl and decide that the next logical step is to hike back to the Bowl. Ugh.
So I hike back to the Hollywood Bowl checking every gutter and crevice all the way there. Tired, out of breath and slightly nervous, I ask a staff member if there's a lost and found. There is. Hope is rising. I find my way to the lost and found and discover four employees hanging out. I address a girl about my age that's sitting just behind the counter.
Me: "Has anyone turned in a set of car keys?"
Her: "What kind?"
Me: "Jeep."
Her: Momentarily blank stare.
Me: Breathless anticipation.
Her: "No. We haven't had our last drop off of the night though. We had someone turn in a key but it wasn't for a Jeep."
Me: Crestfallen. Actual panic begins to set in. "Can I take a look at my seat?"
Another employee: "Sure. What section were you sitting in?"
Me: "H."
Employee: "They shouldn't have cleared that section yet."
So I head to the seat I had pleasently spent the last two and a half hours in, however this time, it doesn't have quite the same appeal. There are no wine glasses clinking. There's no orchestra warming up. There are no LA socialites trying to impress each other with witty and cultured conversation. Instead there is trash and crickets everywhere.
After spending a good twenty minutes checking my seat and its surrounding area, digging through trash and retracing every step I had taken while at the Bowl, I am forced to realize that my hope had died and my faith in humanity was as misplaced as the object I was now done searching for. My key was gone. I had two options: call my dad and have him drive all the way up to LA with my spare key or take a cab home and have him drive me and said spare key up in the morning. Neither option appealed to me.
In the interest of stalling on making a decision, I went back to the lost and found office to give them my name and number in case my key turned up. This time there were only two girls left, both of which had been involved in my first panicked encounter.
Me: "Can I leave my name and number in case my key turns up?"
Girl 1: "Sure."
Girl 2: "Are you sure it was a Jeep?"
Me: "Yep." as I ponder how many times they've encountered people who were confused about what kind of car they drove.
Girl 2: "Are you sure it wasn't a Durango?"
Me: "Yes." baffled at the idea that she still doesn't believe I know what kind of car I drive.
Girl 2: "Because we had someone turn in a key for a Durango."
As appealing as the idea is of once again possessing a car key is, I decide that theft is not an option.
Me: "Well, unfortunately, I drive a Jeep." unsuccessfully trying not to sound condescending.
After once again confirming the make of car I drive, she picks up a key out of a tiny little bowl on one of their filing cabinets. It is none other than my car key. Which says Jeep on it. Twice. The word Durango won't even fit on my key the way it is designed.
Me: "That's it. That's my car key!!" said with an overwhelming sigh of a relief.
Girl 2: Look of sheer confusion. She inspects it closely for upwards of 90 seconds.
Me: I consider that this should have been done perhaps the first time I had visited her office.
Girl 2 to Girl 1: "It is a Jeep key!"
Me: Really now?
After exchanging looks of bewilderment, they finally hand me my key and I sign for it in their lost and found logbook. In my frustration, I didn't take the time to read the description in the logbook. I wish I knew if it was in fact described as a Jeep or Durango key. I fear this will haunt me the rest of my life.
Relieved and more than ready to be on my way I thank them and start out the door. As I walk away I hear laughter.
Girl 2 to Girl 1: "At least she got it!"
I have no words.
Friday, September 5, 2008
It's Finally Here!!
There were pumpkin scones at Starbucks this morning. One of the best days of the year.
Fall is finally here people!!
Fall is finally here people!!
Monday, September 1, 2008
Batman Trumps All
Batman is the greatest super hero ever created. Yes Mike, even greater than Superman. I have given this a lot of thought and here's why:
1) He never intentionally kills anyone.
2) He never uses a gun.
3) He doesn't acually have any super powers.
4) He's not from another planet.
5) He shows mercy to his enemies.
6) His goals are actually altruistic.
7) He understands that black is classic and is thus always fashionable.
8) He doesn't have a jerry curl.
9) He's played by Christian Bale.
If you disagree with me, you're wrong. Get over it. But if you want to make a case for your fav, leave me a comment. We will discuss further.
1) He never intentionally kills anyone.
2) He never uses a gun.
3) He doesn't acually have any super powers.
4) He's not from another planet.
5) He shows mercy to his enemies.
6) His goals are actually altruistic.
7) He understands that black is classic and is thus always fashionable.
8) He doesn't have a jerry curl.
9) He's played by Christian Bale.
If you disagree with me, you're wrong. Get over it. But if you want to make a case for your fav, leave me a comment. We will discuss further.
Theatre Week
I didn't really plan it this way but last week evolved into National Theatre Week for me. I bought tickets to one event months ago. Two friends were in shows this last weekend. It didn't dawn on me that it would be the same weekend until the Monday before. And as an employee of an Arts Center, you don't turn down comps to a show when they're offered. I consider such perks a poor compromise between the salary I deserve and the one I actually make.
Wednesday - A Chorus Line - Orange County Performing Arts Center
It made me miss performing so much that I'm actually considering auditioning for a play after Christmas. I hope they have a silent role for me. :)
Friday - Picasso at the Lapin Agile - Maverick Theatre
It's hard to go wrong with Steve Martin. It was hilarious!! My friend was amazing and I was highly entertained by one actress whose French accent kept turning Jamaican.
Saturday - Les Miserables - Moonlight Productions, Vista, CA
Again I was overwhelmed by the talent of my friends. It was a fantastic production but let's take stock in the fact that this is such an amazing story, it holds it's own regardless of who's performing. It reminded me of how powerful mercy can be and how a single merciful act can change someone's life forever.
Sunday - The Films of Warner Brothers - Hollywood Bowl
I thought I watched a lot of movies but this made me realize that I've missed some major moments in cinematic history. I have a lot of homework to do. The evening was an advenutre and a half. More to come later.
Not a bad week.
Wednesday - A Chorus Line - Orange County Performing Arts Center
It made me miss performing so much that I'm actually considering auditioning for a play after Christmas. I hope they have a silent role for me. :)
Friday - Picasso at the Lapin Agile - Maverick Theatre
It's hard to go wrong with Steve Martin. It was hilarious!! My friend was amazing and I was highly entertained by one actress whose French accent kept turning Jamaican.
Saturday - Les Miserables - Moonlight Productions, Vista, CA
Again I was overwhelmed by the talent of my friends. It was a fantastic production but let's take stock in the fact that this is such an amazing story, it holds it's own regardless of who's performing. It reminded me of how powerful mercy can be and how a single merciful act can change someone's life forever.
Sunday - The Films of Warner Brothers - Hollywood Bowl
I thought I watched a lot of movies but this made me realize that I've missed some major moments in cinematic history. I have a lot of homework to do. The evening was an advenutre and a half. More to come later.
Not a bad week.
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