Shoving off

Today I am wrapping up last minute items on my To Do list before I leave for Costa Rica. Yes, the day has finally arrived. I've been talking about and anticipating this trip for almost a year now, lol. My very first time leaving the country and I am pretty excited about it. My primary fear is that I won't be able to carry-on my luggage so then I'll have to check it and TSA will rob me. They've been robbing everybody since 9/11. I know several people who've been ripped off royally. Oh, and I'm also afraid that I won't be able to fully relax. I was way too antsy during my last vacation, worried that time was slipping away from me. Meanwhile, time slipped away from me and I ended up back at work too soon, feeling disappointed that I didn't make the most of my time off. This time, I plan to not worry about a thing. I will be a Tica (name for Costa Rican women) for a week practicing Pura Vida (Pure Life), reading my book by the pool, not giving a damn about my imperfect bikini body, consuming all that my surroundings have to offer. And then there's La Romeria, the walk for La Negrita/The Black Virgin. This pilgrimage is said to take 3.5 hours from San Jose. Can you imagine walking for 3 and a half hours? And then crawling into a church and praying among thousands of people? Dios mio, I'm going to be stiff as a board the following day. But I think the experience will be so worth it. I always feel good after I've been to church, even if I'm a little tired from all the standing and kneeling. This, though, might be the equivalent of 10 Sunday's worth of standing and kneeling without the 6 day break in between.
Anyway, I just logged in to say farewell for now. I still have things to do before I leave :).
Toodles.

I'm so sad

I hate my hair. Last weekend I'd mentioned to my cousin that I needed a low maintenance hairstyle for my trip/vacation and thought that the hairstyle Evelyn from Basketball Wives was wearing last week would be perfect - half corn rows on one side, half down and loose on the other. She looked at me funny, as if she really wasn't trying to help me out. So I went to a girl I used to babysit who now braids hair and I told her my idea. She said she'd do it for $30. Cool. I drove 45 minutes to her apartment all the way in Hawthorne and sat in an uncomfortable chair for about 2 hours while she braided one side of my head. And when she was done and handed me a mirror, my first thought was "it's ugly as hell." But I pretended to like it :( So now I'm sad. She made the braids way too small and straight across, like a boy hairstyle. Save for my loose hair on the other side, it looks butch. But I paid her. I even tipped her an extra $10 because I'm a nice sucker like that (I'd planned to tip her all along. I'd also planned to like my hair, though). And for the last two days I've complained to everyone who'll listen about how much I hate my hair. Until today when one of my girlfriends suggested that I ask her to do it over. She said to tell her that the tiny braids aren't what I had in mind and ask if she could make them smaller. So I did. I sent her a text message. Four hours later she still hasn't responded. I offered to take the tiny braids down myself and asked if she could just make 4 or 5 larger ones instead. And now that I think of it, that extra $10 I gave her should be enough to prod her to say yes to this quick and easier job. But we'll see. Because, after all, she never asked me if I wanted them so tiny. Evelyn's weren't tiny, and this girl claims to watch the show. In the meantime, I have to go to work tomorrow with this hideous, butch, punk rock-ish hairstyle. I really don't feel like entertaining the comments and questions I'll surely get. I'm so sad. Miles said I look ghetto. And if I take it down I will be burning money. This sucks.

And so it begins…

I guess it’s normal to be scared shitless and feeling wholly inadequate, yet bursting with excitement when you’re setting out to be your own boss. This leap has the potential to make me enormously happy or, if I don’t succeed, pretty damn sad. Therefore, the following comments & questions are running through my head:
I’m scared. I can’t do this. Can I do this? Am I creative enough? Is it in me? Am I patient enough? Is this crazy? Am I crazy? Will I survive even a year? Will I survive long enough to make a profit? Am I certain this is what will make me happy? How can I be fearless when this is such an enormous undertaking? It’s Goliath! Can I be David? Is it enough for me to just like pretty things and be able to recognize them? Should I be able to design them as well? Is what I design even pretty? Jesus, take the wheel.
I reassure myself with reminders that everyone likes my designs and some have even gone so far as to copy me and request my decorating help. I’m no stranger to hard work and I’m the most determined person I know. So what, I don’t have much experience running a business, but who does at first? Every successful business owner was once a novice learning to swim. I know what to do; I can doggy paddle. I’ve memorized the mechanics of it. I can make this happen. Worry is taxes paid that may never come due, right? So I’m throwing worry to the wind. I’m passionate about this idea, and really, all I need is passion. Time to put on my big girl panties and be the boss I was born to be.
But first, here are my excuses for why you may not see my name in lights so soon, lol:
I have a full time job and a mortgage. I’m applying for a two year, non-stop, time-consuming program. I need money to make money and, so far, I only have a little bit of money, which means start up costs will have to be tackled slowly. But slow and steady CAN win a race, dammit! Did I mention that I’m the most determined person that I know? I’ll get there, come hook or crook. You watch.
''Every morning when I open my eyes I wonder what I can do to make myself famous. It's become my ambition, almost my raison d'être, to burst upon the city like fireworks.''
- Coco in Shanghai Baby

Out with old, in with the new

All the things I don't need, that no longer (or never) benefit(ted) me, are being tossed out (physically and mentally), sold off, or repurposed in some way. Beginning with a yard sale. Hooray for yard sales! Hooray for a fresh and optimistic lifestyle with a clear mind state! The goal is to focus on what matters most and to build an unencumbered, stress-less life. No worries (easier said, of course), no strife (although some worry and strife are good for you. Makes you stronger), no frustration. I don't want to be a hoarder, especially of bullshit. So today finds me in a purging spirit, ready to donate, toss, sell off and accumulate less. Purging is truly good for the soul. Think of how relaxing a nice hotel room is on vacation with very little "stuff"in it. Then you return home and see all the clutter you've amassed and it becomes your focus (if youre a neat freak or anything like me. Im not a neat freak but I am pretty orderly). Plus, my goal is still to create a more meaningful home. After all, it's where I spend a large chunk of my time and where I go to rest and repair. I want my home to reflect the poetry of my life. Every odd and end should be a meaningful memento of the places I've been, the experiences I've had, and reminders of my loved ones. For instance, I love walking down my hallway and seeing my moms old modeling pictures, my sons baby pictures, and my stint at modeling hanging on the wall. Or my taro leaf bowl from Hawaii, or my grandmother's old sugar dish. The thing about simplicity is that it helps you focus on the things that matter most. And what really, truly matters doesn't really take up space ;) So no more overindulging in worthlessness. I'm on a buying hiatus indefinitely. I really don't need anything. Then maybe after my yard sale I'll take my earnings and go get a massage. Or maybe I'll invest it.

Sunday musings

On our way back from the beach yesterday we stopped to get gas. And while I waited for my tank to fill up I decided to clean my windshield. When I put the squeegee back into the container of water, some guy popped out of nowhere and said "Can you wash my window's now, too?" I gave him a look like "boy, please" and said, with a smile "I can hand you this squeegee and YOU can wash your windows." He laughed and pretended to be hurt. Then his friend in the passenger seat of his Porche convertible said "He just likes cute girls with long hair, that's all." To which I replied "Aww!" and got in my car and closed the door. Is this the way courtship is done now days? I wasn't prepared for that awkwardness but I didn't give it a second thought after I'd closed my door and drove off. Had he caught me a few weeks ago, though, I likely would have suggested that he call me. Lately, my mood has transitioned to "meh" when it comes to men and dating. But just last weekend, as my cousin and I were quickly departing the Erwin Hotel in Venice Beach, I wished she would slow down so that the African guy who was busy texting on his phone would notice me and say something. Hollahollahollaholla was all on my mind. He was tall, dark and handsome and he didn't seem to notice me at all. Oh well, it wasn't meant to be, I suppose.

Last night Mr. EC wanted me to go out with her. She's a DJ groupie and can be a little demanding when we go out, always trying to control the way I look ("wear a dress...make sure you wear eyelashes...don't crimp your hair...that looks hot, wear that again...make sure you crimp your hair") and it can be a tad disconcerting. I don't always feel like getting glammed up and especially not to please a woman or the people who frequent the house music-playing clubs she likes to take me to. Besides, it's a waste of glamour and time because nobody I want to impress is ever at the places she takes me. So last night, after we'd returned to my mothers' house from the beach, I laid in my moms bed and took a cat nap while the baby kept climbing over me and trying to force open my eyelids. I loved feeling her little hands on my face and the weight of her body climbing over me like I was a wall. When I woke up it was almost 9pm and my used-to-be-surly niece called to say that she and her girlfriend were coming over so we could drink mojito's and eat pastrami sandwiches from Johnnie's Pastrami. That sounded like the party I was in the mood for last night. So I texted Mr. EC and told her that it didn't look likely that I would make it home in time to get dressed and go out with her to the "oontz oontz" club and she never responded. She's one of those funny women who expect you to always be available to her, on her time, and all about her. But when you have a life of your own, she is not amused but rather insulted. Ha! She often likes to tell me about the guys she's dating or, when she's not dating anyone she likes to tell me about the women in her life who constantly hate on her. But I am expected to simply listen, never share, because she honestly couldn't give a damn about my life or the people in it. Of course, I've told her about this flaw of hers so now she pretends to be an interested friend. But still, she can cancel whatever plans we make and I'm okay with it. However, when I cancel...I get attitude. I brush her off since I've never taken her seriously, anyway. Hence the nickname "Mr. Ed Choppers."

I'm back to business as usual. My focus has returned to it's regular programming and my "man high" is no more. I've come down to Earth and begun making more appropriate plans. I can now look back on the last few months and smile at the experiences, be grateful for them, and leave them in the past. I almost didn't want to leave my house yesterday because I'd cleaned it up so perfectly the night before that I just wanted to languish in it and smile at my work. I even hemmed those Ikea curtains that I'd put off hemming for over 2 months and trimmed the bushes in front of my porch. So today, Sunday, I will watch my Netflix movie, marvel at my beautiful little home, make more plans for the future, and be grateful for my life and the experiences I've had.

I’ve become disillusioned with the Hollywood Bowl. It used to be one of my favorite places to go but after this past holiday weekend, I think it is only good for specific shows and romantic dates in sections A-J, rows 1-16, only. All those other sections and rows can kiss my ass. They have you packed in like sardines on hard, wooden benches so you’d better pack light and bring a pillow to sit on. And don’t even think about staying until the show ends. Everybody tries to leave all at once and it is hell trying to get out of there. The fireworks display this year left a lot to be desired, too. I’ve seen better at Redondo Beach on the Fourth of July from the millionaire up in Palos Verdes. Word has it that the city made him stop though. He was competing with their display and winning.

So I’m saying so long for now. It’s sort of sad for me because the bowl holds so many dear memories from my past. My uncle Bob used to take me there when I was a little girl. I remember one summer when I was about 5, he and I went to the Bowl and then next door to Griffith Park for a concert where some of the little white hippie kids were running around in their underwear, so uncle Bob asked me if I wanted to take off my shirt and cool down like them. I couldn’t believe he would ask me such a thing. There was no way in hell I was going to run around topless with my no-boobies exposed to the world, lol. My chest was as flat as a board but I was taught to keep my “goods” covered. Good girls don’t run around topless. Plus, there were surely perverts afoot. Anyway, we hung out with a lot of the bands performing that day because, as a kick ass drummer, my uncle Bob was friends with most of them. So I befriended a little girl named Jessica who was traipsing around the park in nothing but her panties. And that’s where I formed my first real impression of white people. These folks didn’t seem to give a damn about nudity or modesty and were living free and reckless. But me, on the other hand, I was disturbed by that Coppertone ad back in those day where the dog was pulling down the little girls’ bikini bottoms revealing her un-tanned butt to everyone. Yes, I was a real conservative prude up until about age 16 when I discovered the joys of sex. I’m still vanilla except now with rainbow sprinkles. This world has corrupted me.

I really want to see a meteor shower. It's been on my bucket list for a while now and my friends father owns a ranch at Lake Elizabeth, which just might be a great spot to see this one:

July 28, 29 - Southern Delta Aquarids Meteor Shower. The Delta Aquarids can produce about 20 meteors per hour at their peak. The shower usually peaks on July 28 & 29, but some meteors can also be seen from July 18 - August 18. The radiant point for this shower will be in the constellation Aquarius. This year the thin, crescent moon will be hanging around for the show, but it shouldn’t cause too many problems. Best viewing is usually to the east after midnight from a dark location.

And the showers radiant point will be in the constellation Aquarius, which is my birth sign. Kind of cool :)
Otherwise, maybe we can catch this one:

August 12, 13 - Perseids Meteor Shower. The Perseids is one of the best meteor showers to observe, producing up to 60 meteors per hour at their peak. The shower's peak usually occurs on August 13 & 14, but you may be able to see some meteors any time from July 23 - August 22. The radiant point for this shower will be in the constellation Perseus. The full moon will definitely be a problem this year, hiding the fainter meteors with its glare. But with up to 60 meteors per hour possible, it could still be a great show. Find a location far from city lights and look to the northeast after midnight.

I know why the little bird sings

Damn, I never thought I’d get to this point. Okay, I’m lying, I KNEW I’d get to this point. I was just hoping to avoid it at all costs. Yet here I am, with all this looove to give and nobody to give it to. What am I going to do with all this!? Combust? I need to hug on someone, STAT! Nuzzle my nose in the nape of their neck, kick one leg over their torso, and drape one arm over their chest and let a movie watch us. Or else, yes, I will spontaneously combust. Oh woe is fucking me!

Today I thought I was doing something when I purchased a six pack of Mike’s Hard Classic Margarita’s in peach flavor. Turns out I haven’t done shit but get laughed at. “That’s a wine cooler! You won’t even get a buzz from one of those,” I was told.

Oh, well. But fuck it, I tried. You’re probably wondering why I have such a potty mouth today (oh, and believe me, I’m being GOOD! This is nothing like what’s going on in my head right now. I’m censoring the SHIT out of myself). Well, it’s because I’m frustrated with all this pent up desire in me. This is some bullshit and I seriously need to release it…on somebody. But, there’s no one around that will make the effort satisfactory. And that’s a damn shame.

I went to the reggae club with my cousin last night and they hardly played any reggae. But these two young men with a thousand times my energy level were dancing like maniacs. It was pretty entertaining. They had total control of their bodies and were busting moves I could only dream of. My cousin thought they were on drugs. She thinks everyone is on drugs. It was truly fascinating. Other than that, the club was a huge disappointment. We left at about a quarter to one. Tonight I’ll be at the oontz oontz club with my Mexican friend and a couple of others. I’m only going because I’m hoping to get lucky. Not like that! By lucky I mean that I’m hoping to meet someone with good conversation, a great personality, and a winning appearance that digs me and wants to try to talk me out of my clothes sometime in the near future. That’s all.

I’m pretty sure I was dissed by Artist Boy so I’m sort of licking my ego’s wounds right now. And since I am a glutton for punishment, here’s how my dissing went down:

Me: Hi

Him: Hey How Are you

Me: I'm good, thank you I was wondering if you'd like to go with me to see the graffiti exhibit at MOCA...if you haven't seen it already?

Him: *silence for two days

Me: I'm guessing your silence means you've either seen the exhibit already or you're just not interested. It's okay either way. But could you let me know which? I hate to assume. thx

Him: Hey No been hella busy ... I just dont have alot of free time right now I have a Project in the works .

Me: No worries. May I ask what kind of project youre working on?

Him: Im working on the gallery space Ill be showcasing and working from.

Me: (19 hours later) Best of luck.

I didn’t reply with “best of luck” until after I saw him tagged in a post saying “Excited to have the talented *Somebody’s name here* and *Artist guy’s name here* on board with the gallery/studio. Climbing that Mountain.”

Yes, I was salty.

Then, after he was tagged in that post, he posted “Focused” and an hour after that he posted “Grinding.” So I’m guessing he wanted to make sure I got the picture. Which is, he’s not interested in me but he thinks he’s too nice to just come out and say it. I don’t think he’s nice at all, really. Nice would have been shooting me down the way Jeff Bridges did “Little Blackie” the horse when “Blackie” fell from exhaustion (I winced so hard on that part. Poor horsie. After all he’d gone through). I’m of the opinion that NOBODY is that busy. We make time for the things we want to do. And he clearly does not want to do me. He didn’t even offer me a raincheck. And honestly, I only wanted to hug and kiss on him and claim him for a little while. He’s not particularly sexy but he is easy on the eyes. My brother thinks he’s gay. I love my brother. So, c’est la vie, Artist Guy. Thanks to you, I’m not trying anymore. I am officially jaded. Fuck all this shit. I can feel my heart going cold as I sip on my room-temperature peach margarita wine cooler.

There's a fucking swallow who has decided to make the tree directly outside my bedroom window his base. Every evening and sometimes during the wee hours of the morning, he starts chirping and yodeling his little ass off. It's like one of those multi-tune car alarms. I hate that damn bird. I have wanted to shoot him for weeks now. A friend recently told me that's his booty call. He's chirping up a storm because he's looking for love, the poor sap. I need to buy a bb gun and put him out of his misery.