I'm starting to get a little annoyed with Mr. Ed Choppers. She is incredibly shallow and it is taking everything in me not to be very frank with her. For one thing, she's way too damn old to be as hung up on partying as she is. The occasional club here or there is okay, but Wednesdy through Monday nights? After a while, it gets old, no? I mean, just how much flossing and fronting on the dance floor can one stand? She's at least 38 and it seems that all she cares about is trying to impress a bunch of fakes. Once you get crows feet around your eyes, gray hair, and a witch nose you really need to start at least trying to act mature…lest you look like a fool. Okay, that was mean, but I digress...
She doesn’t want to hear the truth. She wants a “yes, ma’am,” someone who tells her what she wants to hear. I’ve dealt with her type before. My cousin loves a “yes, ma’am.” It’s usually the ones who make the dumbest decisions in life who do. Anyway, it’s become glaringly obvious that the 22 year old guy she’s been giggling over does not like her the way she likes him. He’s a club promoter, drives a used Honda Civic, and lives with his parents. He’s looking for young fun, not an old disco-hopping cougar who can’t even be a sugar mama because her credit is bad and she still lives at home with her parents. They’ve already had sex (within the first two weeks of meeting) and he’s already told her that he’s not feeling her, even though he still calls from time to time to stroke her ego and to see if she and her disco pals will come to something he is being paid to promote. No dates, no real pursuit, not even a nibble of what’s she’s putting out there. Just “bring your
This world is big enough to do so. I’ll simply continue living as I am, happy and focused, without the distraction of those malice- hearted individuals who wish me no good. Too many of them to name, unfortunately. Yet as many as there are, not one will keep me from living loudly and proudly, from doing what I love. I’m not needed where I’m not wanted or appreciated. Ass kissing has never been my forte, unlike some I know. It has never been terribly important for me to please everyone. It’s been my experience that I never will; misery will continue to seek company, so why bother? So I’ll forget about them. My world won’t be filled with anything short of what enriches me and mine. I’m not a child anymore so I can’t be so easily hurt or dismissed. I maintain that jealousy is a most dangerous emotion. I’m never surprised at the extent people will go to, to bring someone down. They are truly pitiful.
I keep my guard up but it gets exhausting. I haven’t had the fortune of knowing very many good folks. I think that I’ve finally realized that the key to avoiding it all is by “allowing my cup to runneth over,” to be full enough of myself that I have some to share with others J
When I was about 9 or so, my then step father began having an affair with my mothers’ younger cousin. Our family has been divided ever since. Around that time, he had also begun to use and sell drugs out of our home and was directly involved in my childhood best friends’ father being murdered, as a result. The bullet that pierced a close family friends’ skull and killed him, was actually meant for *Richard (for this post I’ll call him Richard) who had asked said friend to make a run for him, fearing that “a deal” wasn’t right and that there might be danger. He’s done his fair share of dirt, to say the least. I remember riding to school with him one morning after he’d had an argument with my mother over God knows what, and him driving so recklessly that he caused an accident. For a long time after that I was afraid to ride in a car. Literally shaking and holding on for dear life on my way to elementary school. Well, he found some lawyers for us who insisted that we go to their doctor. So every day after school I went with him to a chiropractors’ office and laid on a “massage” table for about 30 minutes. That was therapy. When the case was finally settled years later in our favor because of my testimony, I was issued a check for $500. He was issued one for much more. That’s about the time when he opened his first business.
Anyway, he ended up marrying my mothers’ cousin and cheating on her for years with other women, until early this month when he suddenly had a stroke. My divided family is split between shock and fate. Some of them cannot believe this has happened to him. Others are of the opinion that it makes perfect sense that it happened to him, given his past and his present lifestyle. He’s in his early 50s, in a wheel chair, and helpless. His sister says that he’s crying every day, that one of the caregivers at the rehab facility accidently dropped him and he fell flat on his face causing him to have a black eye and busted lip. I pity him. I wouldn’t wish what he’s going through on my worst enemy. This reminds me of the movie “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly,” which was a fantastic portrayal of someone essentially living in their head, unable to talk, to scream, or even to feed themselves. What I feel for Richard’s situation isn’t joy; it’s what I’d imagine watching the devil get dragged to Hell feels like. To me, it’s fitting.
I will never drive up north again. The ride to Morro Bay was absolutely agonizing. Are we there yet? is all I kept thinking. But we figured since we had a free, sporty, new rental car for the weekend we might as well take advantage of the situation. It's a whole day later and I am still exhausted. Anything beyond a 2 hour drive, aside from Vegas, is not for moi. Here's a handful of flicks.
As part of the process of creating the “Unbound” book and documentary, I was interviewed on camera and asked, quite simply “who are you?” which is such a loaded question, right? Well, for me it certainly was and it required quite a bit of time to mull over but I needed to answer right away. No time to ruminate. So I gave my interviewer the generic and sometimes obvious answers – I’m a mother, daughter, friend, writer…along those lines, but ever since that day on the beach I’ve been trying to come up with an appropriate answer to that question. An answer that I feel is wholly accurate. Who am I? Yes, I am clearly a woman and daughter. Yes, I have given birth to a child and am a mother as well. I also have friends. But none of that truly defines me in my mind and I think a clear definition, knowing precisely who I am, will help me go on to live a much happier, more fulfilled life. My career or lack thereof depends on it. My peace of mind, my comfort, and many of my daily decisions do too. What’s my motivation? Sitting at this desk in this office day in and day out I often wonder and I have to ask myself “what are you doing here?” Because it’s not absolutely clear. Yes, I’m here because they pay me to be, but I don’t want to be here. I don’t love this place, I’m not passionate about what I do, and I damn sure don’t give a rats ass about that vile human creature they call my boss. I’m here for the paycheck and what money can buy, that’s what my existence today boils down to since I spend a large percentage of my life here, in this office. It’s easy to forget who you are when you’re behaving like a hamster in a wheel. I work to eat, I eat to survive.
I wish I had a do-over for my book interview, that they had provided me with the question ahead of time so that I could prepare my answer rather than blurt out some bullshit on the spot. Somehow, though, I still don’t think I would have come up with an answer that satisfied me even if I were given extra time. The other day I read this on Facebook and a light bulb clicked on in my head. I’m getting closer to my answer! But I don’t quite have it yet. This helped (emphasis mine):
Metaphorically, pu'uhonua can be viewed as a means of taking a break from the materialistic world that perhaps has been force fed, and simply "going back", kicking back, laid back, being able to speak freely without having to speak in what some would call a "haolefied" manner. I've heard people say "when I'm at work and speak on the phone, this is my white voice, so people can understand what I'm saying, I must be articulate. Amongst friends, if I have an accent, say certain words or say slang that I've said all my life, I don't have to worry if someone is looking or listening to me behind my back." In other words, it's the idea of being at home. Personally, I haven't been back home in 10 years. All these years, I have said to family and people online "I'm on my reserves, but I need to come back and fill up again. It's my refuge, all I have to do is go to my favorite beaches, a park, find a food cart/lunch wagon, or look at where I used to live, see old corner stores, talk to people who look and sound like me. The further I'm away from that, the more I realize how much I miss that. It's my connection to my aina, that's the spark plug to who I am.
I signed up a couple of months ago and have been addicted ever since. It was great when I was just an observer, reading mostly-unbiased, unfiltered reviews about places before I handed over my money and time. But it’s even better now that I am a reviewer myself! I won’t dine out or plan a trip without it, it’s such an invaluable tool. I mean, everybody has an opinion, right? Yelp is my way of giving back, giving credit where it’s due. And I think I grade fairly well.
So, yes, I’ve been sort of cheating on my blog to write up reviews for Yelp, my guilty passion. It’s only right that I share a handful of my reviews here.
Barney's Beanery
Categories: Bars, American (Traditional)
Neighborhood:
5/27/2010
I won't be back. The ambiance is great, the wait staff is very attentive. HOWEVER, I didn't even make it back to my car before I got bubble guts and had to race home like Mario Andretti. Thankfully, I LIVE in
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Categories: Caribbean, Local Flavor
Neighborhood:
9/3/2010
Fabulous! My teenage son, who is a young food critic in the making, couldn't stop raving about his jerk chicken, sweet bread and everything on his plate, all of which he promptly devoured. He loved his dessert as well - spice cake w/ vanilla bean ice cream, if I recall correctly. I had the jerk chicken as well, and the meat was so tender and juicy, easily falling off the bone. Not too spicy (for me) but just spicy enough without overcompensating. The food presentation was nice and our waiter was great - attentive, yet not a bug-a-boo. We kept looking at the food ordered by the people sitting next to us, because theirs smelled and looked delicious, as well. The little house atmosphere and the live reggae band was a lovely touch. I truly enjoyed my dinner there and will be back. I think its family owned and operated, which is aces in my book. Family run businesses tend to take a lot of pride and care in what they do since, usually, everything is on the line.
21 Choices
Category: Ice Cream & Frozen Yogurt
Neighborhood:
9/3/2010
I love this little shop. More often than not, there is a line outside the door spilling onto the sidewalk, but that's mostly because there isn't much room inside. As soon as you walk in youre greeted with huge smiles and the smell of fresh waffle cones. It's all really quite smile-inducing, so your mood lifts (unless you're just a surly a**hole and nothing could impress you). They change the flavors regularly and you're allowed to sample as much as you want before making a commitment, which is nice. And no one makes you feel guilty for it, either. Then you can choose from all the edible toppings you can imagine, or none at all. It's up to you. They even have Cap’n Crunch cereal as a topping option. Everything is made right there in front of you on a cold slab and then squished into your choice of waffle bowl, cone or cup. The prices aren't outrageous, either *cough* like Coldstones! *cough cough!* You'll have a little change left over when you go skipping out of there, all smiles and with childish enthusiasm. Who wouldn't like that experience?
(808) 922-2210
Outrigger Catamaran
Categories: Boating, Boat Charters
8/27/2010
It's a rip off...unless all you want to do is sail a couple of miles off the
But these guys are a couple of loafs who make their living swindling tourists. I can't say that this trip was worth even half the money we paid. The only saving grace is seeing
Trendy Beauty Salon
Category: Beauty and Spas
Neighborhood:
8/18/2010
Mai is fantastic for waxing but skip the nail service. I had an older gentleman do my manicure and even before I had left the salon my nails looked a hot mess. But I'm an optimist so I rolled with it. Plus, I had somewhere to be. At least the color was very neutral. My initial grips: there were bubbles in the "paint," he cut them way too short, he also screwed up my cuticles and didn't even cover the entire nail with polish. Then a younger girl was assigned to do my pedicure and it was well below basic. Something I could have done at home on my own. In fact, had I just stayed home and slapped some OPI or Zoya polish on my toes, they would have looked 10 times better. Two days later both my hands and feet look a wreck. Everyone in the salon was nice, if that means anything to you. But Mai was the best. My bikini wax didn't hurt a bit, she was extremely patient and made me feel very comfortable. Oh, and my eyebrows look dynamite. I'd only return for waxing with Mai - brows were $7 when I went.
Zushi
Categories: Sushi Bars, Japanese
Neighborhood:
5/27/2010
the very first time we ever tried zushi, we fell in love. a quaint, cute little place tucked away from the crowds of
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Tito's Tacos
Category: Mexican
Neighborhood:
5/27/2010
I am an LA native and these are the absolute worst tacos you will find in the city. There is no doubt in my mind. They are literally swimming in grease, with zero flavor, unless you count the taste of lard, and with each bite you will feel one step closer to having a heart attack. My boyfriend and I were dumbfounded over the length of the line, which is what prompted us to give Tito's a try. Turns out, most of the people in line stopped for the same reason we did - curiosity over the long line of patrons. We didn't stick around to ask them what they thought of the tacos. As for the two of us, we will NEVER be back. This place is highly overrated.
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I finally saw Eat Pray Love this past weekend and I can’t say that I was terribly disappointed, but it did occur to me that if I hadn’t read the book, I might have been. The primary point of the movie was left out, as a couple of the Yahoo movie reviewers previously noted, and Liz Gilbert seemed like an insanely confused white woman on the verge of something incredibly stupid. Like, she’d lost her entire mind and would, at any moment, be committed to a mental institution. She didn’t read like that in the book, though, unless I read it wrong, lol. To me, she came across in the book as someone who was tired of living the way society felt she was should live. She wasn’t happy with her marriage, which only came about because it was expected of her by others. And, in order to get over the disappointment of her failed marriage and subsequent divorce, she jumped headfirst into what promised to be a disastrous relationship with a younger man. Eventually, she decided that the best way to pull herself out of the muck she had created was to get as far away from it as possible. The first stop being
Fortunately, I knew exactly what was going on at all times because I had read the book and the movie followed the story to a T (except for the ending, but I'll get to that). But my movie buddy was lost and bored. For instance, in the book it is explained that Ketut Liyer, the old Indonesian medicine man, doesn’t speak English very well so he confuses the greeting “Good to see you” with “Good to MEET you,” instead. So the viewer is left thinking that this old man has no idea who Julia Roberts is and forgets her every time she leaves him. Julia Roberts sucked, by the way. But Javier Bardem and the guy who played Richard from
The only part that I didn’t like about the movie was how they changed the most important part – the ending. They got lazy, and rather than make it clear why Liz had cold feet with Felipe, they just made her appear even crazier than they had initially. There’s a part in the book that was left out of the movie, where Liz, in so many words, says that she needed to be her own father. She was lamenting on how in
It played out much better in the book, I promise. But the movie wasn’t too shabby, either. Go see it if you like watching the Travel Channel or flipping through Conde Nast. Bali and Italy look awesome :)
I haven’t gone to see the movie yet but I have read many of the reviews on Yahoo Movies and, just like with the movie Riding in Cars with Boys, men generally suck at reviewing chick flicks… frankly.
So many people are bashing this woman’s true life story because she “left a perfectly good man” that she wasn’t happy with. Apparently, it is criminal to leave an unhappy situation with someone you don’t hate, who doesn’t beat, cheat or regularly berate you. How appallingly ungrateful it is not to accept the perfectly nice guy as he is and live happily ever after. I know plenty of people who fit the “perfectly fine/nice” description, men and women alike, who don’t beat, cheat or berate me but that doesn’t mean that I’d want to spend the rest of my life as their mate. And if you feel like that makes me spoiled and ungrateful, kindly get the fuck out of here. It’s as if they all feel that, with the extremely high rate of male infidelity/indecision/inability to settle, any woman would be a plum fool to walk out on a nice guy in exchange for being alone. Being alone gets such a bad rap! It’s so unfortunate.
Allow me to put on my feminist t-shirt for just a moment and point out that unmarried women outlive their married counterparts, and unmarried men die before their married counterparts. Why? Because the married woman (God bless her heart) is typically signing up for a life of hard domestic labor. She is no longer just taking care of the household, no. In today’s day she is also out there bringing home the bacon and, after a long day among pigs, expected to come home and fry it up, as well cater to a grown man and kid(s). Add to that the stresses of pregnancy, childbirth, post partum depression, post-baby body image, and crying, needy children and…well, any woman who claims that she’d gladly to take all that on in exchange for living like Elizabeth Gilbert in Eat Pray Love, is a bold faced liar or a fool. That is not to say that all marriages or relationships operate this way, but the vast majority of them are fixed on this 1950s-meets-new-millenium model. Was Liz Gilbert being selfish? Yes, and? Who doesn't do anything that doesn't satisfy them? Who can honestly claim to be a true martyr? Every gift you've given or received was for your benefit. What do you do that is completely selfless? I'd love to know.
These Yahoos (movie reviewers) are also angry that she was fortunate enough to not have anything stopping her from traveling to and living in three countries for an entire year. Downright angry over it, even, lol. Whoever said the truth can be stranger than fiction was a genius, yet these movie critics can’t seem to see beyond their own honking noses. I happened to like the book. No, I do not have the money or time to spend a year living in three countries, but I know some folks who very likely could if they wanted to. Nor, am I white, blonde, or over 6 feet tall, either. I do admit that somewhere along the time she spent in
The days are heating up and summer is finally here in
And I’m not doing too shabby. Especially when I look at Facebook pictures of my relatives in the
Anyway, I’m not in the
It’s 8:43am and the temperature outside is already in the 80s. Dios mio.
The Poem
I knelt to pray but not for long,
I had too much to do.
I had to hurry and get to work
For bills would soon be due.
So I knelt and said a hurried prayer,
And jumped up off my knees
My Christian duty was now done
My soul could rest at ease
All day long I had no time
To spread a word of cheer
No time to speak of Christ to friends
They'd laugh at me I'd fear
No time, no time, too much to do,
That was my constant cry,
No time to give to souls in need
But at last the time, the time to die
I went before the Lord,
I came, I stood with downcast eyes.
For in his hands God held a book;
It was the book of life.
God looked into his book and said
'Your name I cannot find
I once was going to write it down...
But never found the time'
The photo shoot was a slight disappointment. I didn’t expect it to go perfectly, although I strongly wished it had. This was my very first, and most likely my last, professional photo shoot for a publication. Of course, I wanted it to go as I’d always dreamed it would. But when they emailed me that hair and makeup would be minimal and that they wanted us in our “natural state” and to arrive with freshly cleaned, dry hair sans any styling products, I was confused. My hair is naturally curly. If I wash out all of my natural oils and don’t replace them with any, my hair is not going to dry, um… beautifully. My natural state, sans product would look sort of cave womanish. And then, trying to style my naturally curly hair while dry would be an even worse disaster. Couple that with my shoot location being the beach, and I was sure to have a dry, frizzy, salty-headed mess. So, I decided it might be best to straighten my tresses and trust that the stylist could do some minor maintenance. I still followed the rules and put nothing in my hair, hoping that the stylist would at least spritz me with a little holding spray.
Now, my company’s annual picnic at Universal Studios was the same day as the shoot so by the time I left the picnic, 4.5 hours later, my hair was not at its best and I was dead tired. Still optimistic though, I high stepped it into the studio smiling and warm-spirited. This was going to be a great, once in a lifetime experience J
I was the first of the last 3 women to be shot that day – the first to be shot on the beach and the 3rd to the last to be shot since 6am that morning. It was 4pm when I arrived and the crew was still somewhat upbeat, cha-cha-sliding to the cha-cha-slide song that came on the radio and drinking wine. I got my hair and makeup done simultaneously so I couldn’t see a thing that was happening to me. But from the feel of things I was getting much more than minimal makeup and much less than minimal styling. The stylist flat ironed my hair a bit more to remove the excess waves that I had sweated into my hair while traipsing around Universal Studios and riding roller coasters, then she created two tiny braids on each side of my head and connected them in the back. The makeup artist painted a Picasso on my face. She used wet makeup and a soft brush, covering every inch of my face from ear to ear, and scalp to chin. I barely recognized myself when she was done and my hair had zero pizzazz. Yet, still hopeful, I smiled and followed the crew 1.5 blocks down to the beach in nothing but a pair of flip flops, my robe and my panties. All eyes seemed to be on us – and particularly me, the girl in her robe and a ton of makeup.
Despite the somewhat muggy day on Saturday, the beach was jam packed and I was instructed to ignore everyone and just be a model. They wrapped a blanket around me and changed me out of my robe and into a thin piece of fabric right there at the waters edge and soon enough, I had forgotten about all of the people watching. Mainly because of all the direction I was being given by Tomiko, the real model, and Natiya, the photographer.
“Turn left… rest your eyes… stop squinting… back up a bit… imagine you’re an island girl… where are you? …Feel unbound… try not to get the fabric wet…”
Then, after a wave suddenly plowed into all of us and wet the bottom of my fabric dress, they asked me why I was running from the water 0_0 By this time, my hair was a mess and I didn’t know whether to turn left, right, pose, jump, smile, or cry. My bangs had lost their curl and my hair felt like straw from the salty beach air.
“Let’s give her beach hair!” they said, and then proceeded to take down the tiny little braids the stylist had connected in the back of my head. “Toss your hair, bend over.” So I did and my hair went wild with the wind. “You want to do that? O_o , Oh. Okay,” exclaimed Tomiko, the real supermodel. I was thoroughly confused and could only imagine how horrible my pictures looked because of this beach hair and my frozen poses.
Although the photographer made me feel beautiful while I was standing there being shot, as soon as I was done I felt like I hadn’t done my best and needed a do-over, this time knowing precisely what to do (mainly, my own hair!). But after about 20 frames, my time was up. My once in a lifetime opportunity had passed in the span of 1.5 hours. Then it was time for my interview on camera - unscripted, totally raw and totally cringe-worthy in hindsight, lol. And, as a bonus, this interview will be played during the books launch party in October. Egads! I'm already embarrassed just thinking about it.
I won’t get to see my pictures until about 2-3 weeks from now, and I won’t get to pick or know which picture they are picking for the book until publication. The anticipation has been killing me since the moment I left the beach. I don’t have a good feeling about my shots, mainly due to my hair being a fly away mess and not knowing how I was posed in each picture. I’ll just have to wait in agony, I suppose. Or just forget the whole thing even happened.
