You are a very beautiful penny for your thoughts.

Real joy comes not from ease or riches or from the praise of men, but from doing something worthwhile. - Sir Wilfred Grenfell, 1865-1940

I skimmed past this quote today. It rang true to me, and it also gave a few insights into my messy cranium. I was challenged to make a list of things that make me happy and also a list of things that make me sad in my heart. Turns out that over the years my happiness has been pretty predictable. I realized as I looked through the list that my happiness is always exhibited through some sense of purpose or at least the idea that I am being utilized to my fullest. I seem to always get unhappy when I feel that I am not reaching my potential. I began to examine that more closely the other day.

(Note: The rest of this blog should be read with 1 part sarcasm and 2 parts charity. I am not really as bitter as this may read. In fact, I am much more perplexed.)

I feel that my current case of the "boo hoo, poor me, what am I doing with my life, waaaahs" has been due to the fact that I feel...well, less than purposeful on some days. It's almost too basic when I think about how predictable my moods are in that sense. It's too simple; they come on the days when I realize that I have been making coffee that I don't even drink, or when someone in my life chooses to explain something SO basic to me out of their own insecurities and need for control. We all know which moments I speak of. The moments when you feel like shouting "I HAVE A BACHELORS DEGREE! IF YOU CONTINUE TO EXPLAIN TO ME WHY ITS A GOOD IDEA TO TURN LIGHTS ON IN A DARK HALLWAY BEFORE WALKING INTO IT I WILL RIP YOUR ESOPHAGUS OUT!"




But I realize that these little moments for some people are all they have. It's actually pretty uncharitable of me to not just sit, listen and politely nod as they give a lecture on why its always a good idea to let the dishwasher fill for a few days before running it. After all, I am not better than any one else and they are not better than me so why can't I listen to a few healthy pointers. But for some reason, there are days where I let "pointers" nearly drive me off a cliff. And my beef is not with the actual advice they are giving, oh no, it all makes perfect sense, but it is the way in which people occasionally assume that there is a chip missing in my own brain that had the common sense data on it.

Los Angeleian's make me laugh that way. There seems to be a tinge of overcompensation. Maybe they are just trying to fight the stigma that other Americans have put on them that suggests they are not the brightest bulbs in chandelier, or that they spend too much time relaxing or Keeping up with The Kardashians (whatever it may be), but it is definitely something I've noticed. Most people here, including myself, seems to come up with an incredibly dull lecture series about something so insignificant but that suddenly becomes as important as Watergate. Maybe it's that this town loves scandal? Not sure. Trust me, I could recount some fantastically monotonous advice about how getting your eyebrows threaded should only be done by someone with at least 2 years experience, via the girl at the food counter the other day. You would think that the story would end there, but it didn't for some reason. It's actually kind of exciting if you think about it. It's cool to think that people can suck every ounce of juice out of a single piece of advice and then pour it all over you.

Just as I write this I realize that I am no longer going to even be remotely fussy about this. I realize how much this is a part of human nature. People wanting to impart their knowledge is not always an offensive move. It is frequently just their need to express the things that are rolling around in their brains. I do it, you do it, we all do it and so I should not let these little moments make me feel as if I am missing out on my purpose or anything else. In fact, maybe these moments are giving those people their sense of purpose. Yep, this is humanity and whether advice is given with a loving nudge or with a snotty shove, I will continue making the coffee and nodding politely and apologizing for things I didn't do and hopefully for the things I did do. And above all: I will continue listening to people give their beautiful - even if incredibly unimportant - advice.

I love everybody and I wish everyone the best in the crazy but awesome times ahead.

XOXO.

You are a very beautiful don't get too crazy!

Yeah, I almost bought this airfare five minutes ago. But I refrained. I can be responsible. I can be responsible. I can be responsible.I should be responsible. I might be responsible.

:(

I will be responsible.

I'm lame.

You are a very beautiful simple.

"We can begin to become more diligent and concerned at home by telling the people we love that we love them...Such expressions do not need to be flowery or lengthy. We simply should sincerely and frequently express love. … We should remember that saying 'I love you' is only a beginning. We need to say it, we need to mean it, and most importantly we need to consistently show it. We need to both express and demonstrate love." - Elder Bednar

XOXO (but I REALLY mean it)

You are a very beautiful VAAAHOO!!

“I get my best ideas anywhere among the three B’s—the Bath, the Bed, the Bus.” – Albert Einstein

Unfortunately, as of late, I have not had a whole lot of time for any of those places. And as far as the bus goes, I think its probably best for now. L.A public transit is a little bit of what I imagine Alcatraz to have been. But, nonetheless, I am trying each day to find little points of inspiration, and of course, to brainstorm and write until I feel like reading someone else’s work….which is quite a lot lately. Reading, by far, has been the biggest improvement to my life since graduation and my big move to this great big honking city. Traffic has a definite plus side to it: during my commute or any extended amount of time in the car, I have been absorbing audio books like they are going out of style. And I guess, technically, books on tape went out of style quite a while ago, but I’ve been listening to them nonetheless.

Truman Capote said something to the effect of people losing 10 IQ points for every year they live in L.A. Although I think that was Capote being Capote, I do feel that this audiobook reading and leisure nightly reading I’ve been doing has been just the ticket to counteracting those effects, whether they be fact or fiction.

For those of you who have always wondered what it is like to live in a city such as L.A, or that have always been interested but just a little nervous to pursue it; let me assure you, when I talk to anyone out here most everyone here loves it with such a passion, but explain that they feel that they are losing their balance. Let me explain: there is so much to do and see and be a part of in this city, that the sheer amount of options mixed with your own discretion or values can quite honestly make you feel as if you are seconds form toppling over. Where should I go tonight? Should I apply for that? Should I audition for this? If I take this job will it ruin me for this one? Should I stay friends with this awful robber baron even though I hate him, just so I can get ahead? Should I take the 101, the 405, the 110, the 170, the 134 or the 5? (the answer is, sure, but just don’t plan on getting to your destination any time soon). And as a religious person in this neck of the woods, well, forgeddaboutit. (Not really, but I like saying, ‘forgeddaboutit’.) Values just make things all the more…challenging, but it is easy to see why they are imperative.

My friend Coryn gave me an excellent article the other day about finding a quiet center, and I have to say, that is the advice that every resident of Los Angelas needs. They need peace, they need lazy afternoons, they need to chilllax. And by they, I also mean me. I’m already a nervous personality as it is, and I find that this city’s pace can be like pouring coffee into that particular personality trait of mine. Everything should have been done YESTERDAY for people here. When they say, “How are you?” they really mean, “DON’T MAKE ME SHARE IN A HUMAN CONVERSATION WITH YOU OR SOMEONE WILL TAKE MY JOB WHILE I’M NOT LOOKING!” But, I find that I have met a few choice individuals already who have learned to take the fast lane mentality of this town and still go their own speed (much to the honking of other drivers/people). Also, even though its no New York City, people honk for no reason. Sometimes I wonder if its just a secret language that I don’t understand or if people are just trigger happy.

Anyway, what I’m trying to say is…life is good, and seems to be getting better with each new day/trial. I am happy, I am healthy, and I am pacing myself.

XOXO.

You are a very beautiful GUY FROM "SPEED"?

Fondest greetings from the land where the sun shines. Since this blog is essentially about nothing and everything, I suppose I should just jump right into the day’s intrigues.

First of all, I have a job. An awesome one. I’m very pleased with it and I’m anxious to learn more and keep on keeping on.

Secondly, sometimes it is slow and to occupy my mind without taking my mind off the work to be done, I will amuse myself with quotes. Today, out of something much further than left field, I begin to say, “Chanticleer, Chanticleer, Chanticleer.” in my mind.  I began wondering, shortly thereafter, where this came from.

Curse you, Don Bluth!  I can’t believe that after 15 years of not seeing a film that is, well, sub par at best, I began to call upon my childhood memories and a flood of second-rate - didn’t make the Disney cut - songs came streaming into my consciousness. That’s right, the film I speak of is Rock-a-Doodle (1991).  I began to sing, “Sun do shine.” And I even started singing the Tying your shoes song…whatever it’s adorable title is. It really isn’t a bad movie, but it is perhaps the most obsolete thing I could have possibly conjured up on this day of all days, or really, any day.

Furthermore, there were two very slow hours at work today in which there were no tasks and everyone was basically gone to lunch. I decided I would work on my calligraphy while I sat by the phones. And what phrase, do you suppose, I wrote over and over and over again while waiting for the phones to ring?

 “We Built this City on Rock and Roll. We Built this City on Rock and Roll. We Built this City on Rock and Roll….etc.”

I will be accepting donations for my admittance into a sanitarium on any day and in any form. I do accept checks, but a cashiers check is preferred.

Lastly, if an older woman that goes after a younger man is called a Cougar, what is the traditional way called again? Hefnerism? I’m not sure. Anyway, there seems to be a great deal of Hefnerism running rampant in this City (built on rock and roll). Last week, in one day, I was hit on by 3 (THREE) men who were not just my father’s age, but older. One of them looked like Dennis Hopper..and in hindsight…I believe it was Dennis Hopper. I would protect his innocence, but come on….it’s Dennis Hopper!

Anyway, I had just about had enough of it that day. I was just winding down by ordering my favorite dish at my favorite Chinese restaurant down the street, and BAM! I was Hefnered. So much so that I had to excuse myself and pretend to take a phone call. Yes, that’s right. I faked a phone call and literally pretended to be speaking to a business colleague for the entirety of 10 minutes until my food was finished. I didn’t walk, I FLEW to my car. Being confronted with Hefnerism gives you wings. You don’t need RedBull.

Anyway, I am liking it here more and more and I am also increasingly confused. I’ve got a lot to learn.

Will the REAL Dennis Hopper please stand up?

You are a very beautiful "HERE WE ARE! SUNSET AND CAMDEN!"

You’d think that my blog would be filled to the gills with stories about California by now, and alas, it has not been. That does not, however, mean that I am not filled to the gills with stories about California. Believe you me, they’re all I have.

I am here. I am safe. The move went almost suspiciously better than I could have ever imagined. I love my place (swaaaaanky) and my roommate, and all is well on that front.

In other news--

Job Status: Temp.
Where: Anywhere that wants me.
Preference: Something that is actually in my field of expertise.
Progress so far: One waaaay wacko temp job assignment, with a better one pending.

Let it be known that I try to be an open minded person and never make a judgment about someone or something until I’ve met them or tried it once. Let’s just say that I’ve been meeting and trying a whole lot lately, and so far, I find that California is filled with helpful, friendly, wise, normal people. It is also filled with d-bags, morons, phonies, wannabes, jerk faces, psychos, crooks, and prostitutes (and I don’t mean people who sell their bodies). However, I have failed to see how this is really any different than where I used to live. After all, isn’t this the case with most of America? You find the people that make you proud to call yourself an American, and then you meet the people that make you want to move to St. Tropez with Johnny Depp (which, I guess some of us want to do either way).

But I digress….

In short, I am hopeful, I am remaining positive and I am definitely, definitely, definitely…a lot tanner.

California is a culture shock in and of itself, but L.A is like it’s own country with it’s own language and thousands of dialects; most of which include understanding what it is to get your eyelashes tinted, what short really is, and how to shave your legs, eat breakfast, put on a skirt, and read a script—all while driving down the 101. Luckily, I have not learned that last part of the language yet, but I’m sure it’s pure, deadly fun.

Let me give you a humorous dose of the 6 most common phrases you will hear when moving to L.A (to prepare you).

1) “Get a GPS! Duh!” (To which you reply, $400! Duh!)
2) “It’s only like…. 20 minutes away.” (To which you reply: “Really? San Diego is 20 minutes away?)*
3) “You’ve gotta have a lot of passion to do well out here.” (To which you reply, “A passion fruit lollipop doesn’t count, harlot!” and knock the candy out of their hands)
4) “It’s who you know.” (At which point I always pound my fist on a counter and say, “My family BUILT this country!”)
5) “You look like Tina Fey.” (To which you reply, “I am Tina Fey.”)
6) (and my most favorite) “My great uncle’s barber had a cousin who once wrote a joke for Jay Leno that totally almost aired. Do you want me to call him? I’ll see if he can get you a job at NBC.” (To which you respond, “Uhhh, knock yourself out?”)

On a more stellar note: the weather is amazing here. Everything you could ever possibly want to do or even not do is within your reach. The beach is minutes away (like, uhh, 20 minutes?*) and lastly, you will never forget when your favorite shows or movies come out, because they basically put them on every billboard and your bathroom mirror to remind you. . . or else!

Anyway, I’m excited for the rest of my adventure out here and I promise to be a better blogger.

GPS! Duh!

* I have found that most all Southern Californians believe that practically everything is just 20 minutes away. I hate to break it to you, but….it isn’t. It just isn’t, ok?

You are a very beautiful SAY WHAT?

So, I have acrylic nails on right now. They were a graduation gift. I think they look pretty and they make my hands look longer--also, I've probably only had acrylic nails on 5 times in my whole life. However, each time I get said nails, I realize how stinking difficult it is to type with them. Sheesh.

Alas, I wish I were brave enough to post a picture of what 'my' room looks like right now, but that would be a lie, because its not even my room anymore. That's right, I have taken the plunge and I'm headin' out to the big city, but shacking up in my old room with my sister until I can officially hit the road. The room itself looks a lot like a warehouse stuffed to the gills with girlie decorations and miscellaneous moving boxes that we've rounded up from heaven knows where. One of moving boxes says, "DANGER" on it, and I'm beginning to think that there might have been plutonium in it at one point. Excellent. Hopefully I get radiation poisoning on my trip to California and then I'll look just like everyone else----

OOOOOOH SNAP!

That was unnecessary. I was born in California and it is treason to go their with such an attitude. And I won't, because I don't have an attitude. I'm just anxious to get this show on the road. Maybe I'll post a picture of what my car looks like when it is full of my meager possessions and NSYNC CDs (for the ride).

Ok, well....away we go!

Oh, and before the drop, here are a few pictures of my journey in the last few weeks.




Cheers!