2011, You So Crazy!

Every year, I aim to read at least 12 substantial books. That’s really not a lot, compared to what my annual reading list was like when I was in grad school, but I feel like it’s a fair amount of reading for someone who reads student writing for a living. So this year I am behind that quota, and realizing that it is the last week of the year, I’ve been spending a lot of time trying to finish Ulysses before the end of the year. (Yes, I did write my MA thesis on it so no, it is not my first time reading it. Yes, it is even more enjoyable each time.)

So even though I was supposed to be focusing on the words on the page, I couldn’t keep my mind from wandering to the fact that 2011 is thisclose to being over. And suddenly,my imagination began creating one of those cheesy year-in-review montages that we’re all going to see a lot of this week, except that mine only contained the really important stuff– the stuff that happened to ME. A year ago, I wanted this year to be full of adventure and discovery, and it exceeded my expectations. Here are some of the highlights:

*Being caught in a blizzard in Boston while sharing drinks and laughs with Teri.

*Celebrating Amber’s birthday in style in Beverly Hills. We all looked amazing and had a blast. It was the best cure for a broken heart that weekend.

*Celebrating MY 30th birthday at The Bruery. It was low-key, and the night was filled with wonderful people. So what if my favorite jeans ended up with puke on them?

*Being hired as the Writing Center supervisor along with Beth. It is a job I have always wanted, and I couldn’t have asked for a better dream team. No wait, I did. And it worked out that way, and we’re awesome.

*Getting lost in Brooklyn while looking for Brooklyn Brewery with my mother. It was 100 degrees and humid, and we were yelled at by a schizophrenic woman while trying to cross the street. Then, the brewery was closed. But we did finally get a beer and it was one of the best I ever tasted.

*Buying the Mini Cooper that I have always wanted. Every time I get into my car, I smile. It is the perfect car for me.

*Picnic and Croquet day with girlfriends.

*Going to Big Sur and exploring the unknown by myself. Literally venturing off the beaten path to discover a hidden beach with purple sand.

*Camping in Mammoth for the beer festival. The festival may not have been the best, but the people were (as usual).

*Meeting Cliff. Probably the best surprise and most fun adventure of the year.

*Lounging in the cabana at the Hard Rock in Vegas.

*Partying in the ridiculously awesome Lucky 7 suite. When you’re in Vegas and security knocks on the door at 4am, you know your party is legit.

*Winning cash money from the Oregon lottery slot machines while ignoring the naked women behind us at a nudey bar in Portland.

*Running around the Saturday market in Portland, looking for a legit homeless person (and not a hipster) to give a donut to.

*Driving up the coast with my family, having a wonderful dinner at Nepenthe in Big Sur, and hearing my grandfather recount the general debauchery he partook in with college buddies at that same place.

*Spending Thanksgiving with Erin and the folks at Food on Foot, and remembering what really matters.

*Wandering around Shoreline Village with Cliff on a beautiful night, where the pier and docks were almost empty and everything was lit up for Christmas. One of these nights, I am jumping in the fountain outside of the performing arts center.

*Watching It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia: A Very Sunny Christmas Special with my cousins on Christmas.

I really have been blessed this year; blessed by having so many great people in my life, and blessed by having so many opportunities. But the real blessing this year came from the perspective that I went into this year with. After feeling down about things for a couple of years and feeling like I was always waiting for something awesome to happen or someone awesome to make me happy, I decided to stop waiting and to make things happen. I found that if I just start heading in the direction I want to go in, I will figure out how to make it work along the way. I realized that I am the only person that can really make myself happy. Once I really learned that, I met someone who is almost as good at making me happy as I am. I took a lot more risks, and learned that being less guarded, whether it by by sharing this blog or by rushing down a steep hill on a mountain bike, always has some payoff in the end. Sure you risk getting hurt; in fact, you will get hurt. But that pain always provides and opportunity to grow in some way that you never would have had you not just taken the risk.

So with that, I am looking forward to an even more exhilarating 2012. There are already some big adventures on the horizon, and I look forward to those unforeseen adventures that are sure to come up as well.

XOXO,
Rachel

Hiding Places

I believe that we dictate certain emotions to certain parts of our body. I know that there is no scientific basis for this, but I think that if you get to know yourself well enough, you start to discover these pockets within your body where emotions hide out.

For instance, nervousness hangs out in my fingers. This one is the most obvious to me, and if you don’t believe, watch me closely the next time you know I am in a situation where I am nervous. My fingers get really tense. Or I gesticulate more wildly than normal, not with my whole arms, but mostly with my hands. It’s during these times that it’s unfortunate that I have such long fingers, because I feel it makes this nervous tick all the more obvious. Sometimes I can hide my nervousness in almost every other aspect, but if you look at my fingers, they won’t shake, but they will be unnaturally stiff.

My hamstrings and lower back are not as flexible as I would like them to be. Even when I practice yoga regularly and find the rest of my body bending and twisting past my expectations, my hamstrings will refuse to budge much further. This is where I hang onto past experiences that have made me sad and or lonely. It’s fitting that these muscles are on the back side of me, and it’s the things that are now behind me that I can’t quite let go of. They don’t cause me much physical pain, but they sometimes keep me from growing and stretching as far as I want to. At the same time, those hamstrings and my lower back propel me when running; they keep me upright and balanced. Occasionally my lower back will ache, and the aches are a reminder that loneliness is a dull pain that arises every so often no matter what I do.

But the most stubborn emotion, the one that hides in pockets that are buried deep is resentment. Resentment hides out beneath my shoulder blades. Sometimes it causes me to tense up, and sometimes leads to some serious soreness and stiffness. Sometimes it even creeps up into my neck and occasionally my jaw. But most of the time, it hides under my shoulder blades. I get a monthly massage, and sometimes when I go I won’t be feeling any tension when I go in, and even those times the therapist will find some deep, persistent, stubborn knots there. Even when I am not consciously thinking about it, resentment seems to be there.

Resentment isn’t all that different from anger, really. I decided to look up the word, and I found this interesting tidbit from Wikipedia:
“Robert C. Solomon, a professor of continental philosophy at the University of Texas at Austin, places resentment on the same line-continuum with contempt and anger. According to him, the differences between the three emotions are as follows: resentment is directed towards higher-status individuals, anger is directed towards equal-status individuals and contempt is directed towards lower-status individuals.”

Contempt, then, seems much more easy to shrug off. Anger is more difficult, but the fact that resentment is directed at someone in a higher status is what makes it so hard to let go of. Because that business of higher status is something that is only perceived by the person feeling resentment. Status really is arbitrary, and it is especially so when it is the factor that pushes anger to something even darker and heavier. To feel that the person who wronged you is somehow higher than you inherently means you are establishing yourself in a subordinate position. So that resentment comes from a perceived inability to meet that person on a level plane and express that good, healthy anger that he or she deserves. So then that deep, persistent anger at someone else really is deep, persistent anger with yourself, which is why it is so hard to stop resenting someone (or something)– doing so means accepting the frustration- anger-sadness-helplessness-humiliation of the wrong that occurred along with the mechanisms that lead you to perceive that wrong doer is in a higher position. In other words, resentment towards another is probably just as much resentment towards a part of yourself.

Which is why I guess resentment hides deep in my back where I can’t reach it. It’s there and I know it’s there and it knows that I know it’s there and it knows that I know why it’s there. And I figure that sooner or later, it’s going to have to find a new place altogether to hide out, perhaps a place that is more accessible where I can discard it just as easily as I throw off nervousness by wringing out my hands.

Don’t worry Massage Envy; I’ll still come in for my monthly massage.

This One is for the Tims

So two people named Tim have pointed out to me that I have not updated my blog in quite some time. People actually read this?! That surprises me, especially because I imagine anyone that does read it finishes a post and feels like I have just cheated him or her out of 15 minutes of life that he/she will never get back. And that kind of makes me feel guilty, ya know?
But I do this for me, just to keep track of some of the seemingly less significant things going on in my life. Sort of like scrapbooking, only a hell of a lot cooler.

Lately, any of those times that I am pretending to pay attention to what is going on, and perhaps have a glazed over expression, one of the following things is most likely on my mind:

1. Football! I don’t even know where to begin with the Free Agency madness. As a Jets fan, I am conflicted about Plaxico Burress. I had him on my fantasy team in ’08, and after he shot himself, everything went wrong with my team. It broke my heart. I don’t trust Plaxico. Then again, what if he has an awesome post-prison comeback a la Michael Vick? Also, I can’t stand the Patriots, and I am so curious about what this Brady-Ochocinco pairing could be like.

2. Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie.

It’s one of those books that I can’t believe I made it through grad school having not read. I’m only about half way through it, but it is really, really good so far. I want to finish it up before the semester starts next week, but I am not seeing much free time in the upcoming week.

3. Weeds. Much of July was spent watching the seasons on Netflix. I can’t get enough of it. One of my favorite moments occurs in season 3 when Nancy gets a tattoo of a U-Turn sign to remind her what U-Turn, the gangster who died, said to her: “Thug means NEVER apologizing.” When she explains what the tattoo (and thus this more specific definition of thug)to the tattoo artist, he responds, “Huh. Never apologizing. I thought that was supposed to be love.”
Nancy replies, “No, love means always saying you’re sorry.”
Truth.

4. You knew there were going to be shoes.

Love.
Love.
Love.

5. Watch the Throne . I’ve listened to this album a few times this week, and each time I listen, I like it more and more. I’ve been reading several reviews of it, and while I agree that it could be a little more cohesive, I still really like it. It’s much more introspective than I thought it would be, and overall, it’s just some great music. Hate either or both of them all you want, but you cannot deny that Kanye and Jay-Z both have musical genius.

6. “Always do sober what you said you’d do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut,” said Ernest Hemingway. I think that is some sound advice. So in the spirit of that, I finally did what I’ve said for a long time I should do, which is register for online classes to get a real estate broker’s license.I feel it is time I put my money where my mouth is. I am especially driven to do this since a certain person who is a complete tool doubted my ability to do so. I don’t even know what I would do with this license, but having it would just mean a lot of personal satisfaction, an epic moment of “How do you like me now, sucka!”

7. Animals at the top of the food chain. Sharks and bears in particular. The shark obsession is overflow from Shark Week a couple of weeks ago. How amazing are sharks– they eat sushi for every meal, and they test things by biting. Why don’t I get to decide what I want to eat by biting it first and then making up my mind?! Bears because, well, I’ve always loved bears. I was disappointed that I didn’t get to see any last weekend in Mammoth. Bears live the life– fishing, hiking, playing,climbing trees,stealing food from dumb humans, hibernating. And they get to have an awesome roar!

8. Running. This week, for the first time in a long time, running finally felt good again. That runner’s high kicked in, and I can now remember why I used to love running. I’m a little worried that once this semester begins I won’t be able to run as frequently as I’d like to, and I am determined to make running a priority. When I get into a good consistent routine of it, I feel so much more energized. Oh, and the part about eating what I want without feeling as guilty is an added bonus.

9. Messing with OCD people by ending a list at #9.

For A Good Cause

So right now, I obsessed with just one thing, and it is probably because I just spent today experiencing it in all of its awesomeness: Food On Foot.

I’ve always enjoyed volunteering for good causes and helping people when I can, and my friend Erin discovered this organization and signed us up for today’s serving. I didn’t know what I was getting in to, but I am so glad that I participated and I am so impressed with how this organization works that I am going to become a member.

So here’s the gist: every Sunday, volunteers show up and give a meal to homeless or very poor people in Hollywood. But it isn’t your normal soup kitchen or food bank. For one, as a volunteer, you have to pay to volunteer. That first detail struck me as kind of cool because in that sense, it isn’t just about me and how awesome I am for volunteering my precious time and look at me for showing up and putting on an apron… nope. It’s not about you, it’s about the cause and helping people out. It’s also completely supported by private donations; they don’t receive any government funding.
The next and even more awesome detail about it is that it isn’t just a free handout to homeless people. It works on the principle of that old adage of you can give a man a fish or teach a man to fish… in that they run a program where the down-on-their-luck folks work for the food by collecting trash and bringing it in. As the founder said to everyone, “If you want people to feel sorry for you, go to the church down the street. Here we don’t judge you on anything, whether race, if you’re gay, straight, bi, tri, your past, how many people you may have murdered, if you may have just come from prison… we don’t care about that. All we judge you on here is how hard you work. Don’t tell us about how great or deserving you are, show us.”

And the people in the program show how great they are by working each week for the food and clothes, referring people to the program, and describing one random act of kindness they did that week. Hearing those random acts was one of my favorite parts of the day: one person stopped someone who had dropped something from her stroller, one person told a stranger to move his car to avoid a ticket, one returned a wallet he found, one person gave some of his clothes to another person in a shelter, and so on. I love that that random acts of kindness are such an important part of the program since it helps boost their confidence AND it puts more positivity into the world. They also give out weekly prizes in the form of restaurant or grocery gift cards, bus tokens, and hotel stays for those who work the hardest during that week. During this awards ceremony, there was this beautiful camaraderie among the program participants, where they all cheered each other on, and just before the top winner was announced, several of the participants were excitedly pointing at one man and saying, “oh it’s so Ed. I know it, it’s Ed!” One man won bus tokens as a prize and politely turned down the prize, saying, “Thanks sir, but I won the monthly pass last time.” The program is all about building confidence and work ethic so that they can eventually move on, after 10 consecutive weeks, to the “gray shirt” level.

The gray shirt level involves job placement for program participants. Not only job placement, but support: bus passes, a pre-paid phone, and such. Food on Foot takes these members’ first several pay checks and puts them into savings and checking accounts for them, and then helps them get into an apartment with the money they earned and saved. These graduates come to the Sunday servings, tell their stories, and help serve food. On the site I linked earlier, you can read many of their stories. At this point, they have reached the goal, which is as the founder said several times, to be “A tax payer instead of a tax burden.” Yeah, he said that to them. That’s the no bullshit approach that I love about this organization. And it works. Again, look at the site to see the success rate; it’s incredible.

If anyone wants to become a member and drive in to LA with me and Erin on a Sunday, hit me up! It really is an incredible experience!

These 9 things.

I haven’t posted here as often as I’d like because frankly, I don’t know what to use this space for. What could I possibly have to say that could make this blog unique and bring in readers and traffic?
In other words, what, if anything, makes me so unique?

Well, a lot of things, obviously. But one trait of mine, for better or for worse, is that I am an obsessive type of person. I will find something that I like or find interesting and then think about it, research it, try it on for size, tell everyone about it, go to extremes to get it or find more about it, indulge in it daily, wear it out, and possibly even become sick of it within a week. For instance, a couple of weeks ago I began missing my ex-boyfriend’s mother’s Arabic food, so I visited my favorite Lebanese restaurant 2 or 3 times in one week. And I still wasn’t getting enough Zaatar, this spice blend that I was craving. So I drove down to Little Arabia in Anaheim and bought, like, a year’s supply of the spice blend. I ate it for breakfast, lunch and dinner for a couple of days. Then I had my fill of it and moved on to something else. But before I moved on, I had to research it, learn about different ways it is used in Arabic cuisine, try to understand regional differences in the spice blend… Yeah. See? Obsessive. I’m not saying it’s a great, but it’s what I do and I am owning it.

So I am going to be owning my randomness and sharing my obsessions for a while, be they shoes (I can almost guarantee there will be a weekly shoe obsession.) music, an idea, something that irritates me, my favorite meal of the day, a quote, whatever.
Maybe this is my way of pretending that I am Oprah and announcing my “FAVORITE THINGS!” Though I doubt I will bring anyone to tears with my favorite things. (Though you never know…)

So here are some things I am obsessing about this week:

1. I just got home today from several days in New York, which is one of my favorite cities. I love the high energy. I love visiting landmarks, and one in particular: Tiffany’s. Yes, Tiffany’s counts as a landmark. I bought this bracelet:
(Sorry the pic is a little blurry.) Now, I think that this charm bracelet is precious, and it looks great on. Do I need a bracelet? No. I have A LOT of bracelets. If I lived in Northern California, I’d say my bracelet collection is hella big. But alas, I was in Tiffany’s and wanted to buy something, so I figured a bracelet would be good. It’s all customized– the charms are a key, a lock with an “R,” and a shamrock pendant. As I was purchasing it, the salesgirl and I got into a conversation about Real Housewives and I didn’t even pay attention to the grand total. When I looked at my receipt later, I realized that the bracelet cost almost a month’s rent. D’oh! I hate charging things to a credit card. Every time I look at it, I first smile at how pretty it is, the grimace at how much it cost me. I try to justify to myself that it is worth it, I deserve it, and that if each time it makes me smile is worth $1… yeah, I will be wearing this bracelet for a long, long time.

2. For most of the flight home, I listened to Adele on repeat. Time well spent. It took a lot to keep me from singing along at the top of my lungs. “Chasing Pavements” is currently stuck in my head, and it is lovely.

3. The word “lovely.” I use it often, and perhaps not often enough.

4. These shoes. I told you there would be shoes.
I haven’t worn them yet, and I need to build an outfit around them. They are a blush hue; my purple bedspread makes it a little hard to tell.

5. Getting a mountain bike. I really want to get in to trail riding, like, yesterday. Once I get the bike, that will be my new obsession. My current obsession is more about how do I get said bike from REI to here, and how do I keep from embarrassing myself in REI? The people there are always really nice, in fact, they are usually really cool. So cool that I too want to look cool, and when I want to look cool, I never do.

6. “Promise me you’ll always remember: You’re braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” –Christopher Robin to Pooh. Yeah I just quoted from Winnie the Pooh. So what. Words of wisdom people, words of wisdom.

7. If I am really going to write about what I am obsessing about, then I have to mention the guy that I have been flirting with through texts for far too long now. He knows I am interested in him; I said so very bluntly (remember what I said about what happens when I want to be cool?). He is flirtatious back, and yet, we are not dating. So yes, I obsess about what the hell is going on there, especially because every time I throw up my hands and say to myself, “That’s it! I am moving on!” he says the right thing at the right time to make me think something could come of this.

8. Sleep. I need it. Bad. I am even considering getting a sleep mask such as this, to see if that helps (or at least makes me feel glamorous while sleeping). I don’t do well without adequate sleep. I don’t just become irritable, I become a total misanthrope. Then I just get emotional and want to cry over everything. So sleep has definitely been something I have been obsessed with this week.

9. Ulysses. Wednesday is Bloom’s Day, and I want to get through as much of Ulysses as possible by then. I am only on the 6th episode, Hades. If you didn’t already know, I love the novel. I wrote my MA thesis on the last episode (Penelope). And it becomes more and more rewarding each time you read it.

How I get through a long day.

Every semester, I can tell when I am getting burnt out when I stop even trying to wear heels and just pull flats out of my closet every morning. When it’s earlier in the semester, I will at least start the day off in shoes that I like. More often than not, it leaves me trying not to limp back to my office as my shoe slowly fills with blood from a new blister. But when I stop even trying to excite myself with shoes, that is when I know I am getting tired.

That is this week. Since I’ve taken over two classes for another instructor, I have been non-stop busy and filled with anxiety about completing everything that I need to and staying organized and ahead of schedule. That’s all starting to slip, so much so that last week I goofed majorly and wrote down the wrong day for two of my classes to have a library orientation. Whoops!

It’s even starting to take me longer to complete the work that I start out to do, because I haven’t been sleeping as well, which in turn makes it harder for me to concentrate during the day, which then makes grading papers take much longer than usual, and leaves me constantly trying to catch up. Sigh.

So yesterday on one of those long days where I struggled to stay awake and read papers, I took a break to walk down to the arboretum. It’s a beautiful place that is incredibly peaceful. I found a spot near one of the ponds where some ducks were napping on the grass, and decided to sit down there. Then some of the ducks woke up, and look who waddled over to say hello…

On the way back to my office, I also noticed more rabbits hopping around than usual. You’d think it was about to be Easter or something.

Seeing baby animals reminded me of this video that makes me grin every time. It’s a ticklish baby penguin!!!!

I think my favorite part is the penguin’s squeal. Mostly because I am also extremely ticklish and have been known to make a squeal not all that different from the penguin’s. HAHA!

If it wasn’t for baby animals, this week would be so much more difficult to get through…

Aww snap!

When I am bored or need a break from working, I have a bad habit of shopping for shoes and accessories online. I don’t necessarily see it as a bad habit; it’s just that I am running out of room to store it all.

So last week I came across a set of cuff bracelets. I wasn’t sure they were for me, but here they are:

But. There is something more awesome about them.

…

Wait for it.

Wait for it…

Awwww snap!

They’re slap bracelets! Yes, like what I rocked back in 1991!

By the way, I hadn’t thought about how hard it would be to take a picture of myself slapping a bracelet on my wrist. I had to use the web cam on my laptop and use my toe to click the mouse and take a picture. I call that ingenuity.

Goodnight, Moon

I love to geek out about all things Astronomical (especially because it kind of scares me!)One of my favorite places is the Griffith Observatory– I could listen to the lecture in the Planetarium over and over. There’s this Foucault Pendulum amuses the hell out of me. If you’ve been to the observatory but don’t know what I am talking about, it’s the pendulum that swings from the ceiling of the main rotunda down into a pit that has pegs set up to mark time. Here is an explanation of how it works in terms that I barely understand. The last time I was there, I was peering into the pit, surrounded by a bunch of kids on a field trip. It was me and a group of ten year olds getting excited each time the pendulum almost knocked over a peg (“Ahhhh!”) and then when it finally did (“Yayy! So cool!”).

So this weekend marked an extraordinary lunar event. A Super Moon. How awesome is that, that is is called a Super Moon?! This was supposed to be a full moon that is the closest it has been to the Earth in 18 years.

So shortly after sunset, I headed to the park that is atop the hill where Bastanchury and State College intersect in Fullerton. I was pleased to see a group of people had also gathered there to see it.
Unfortunately for all of us, it was a cloudy night, and so we only had about a 2 minute glimpse of the ginormous orange ball before clouds covered it from sight. Bummer!

Fortunately, other parts of the world had better views, and a friend showed me this picture, over the Parthenon in Greece:

Amazing!

That picture reminds me of one of my all time favorite pieces of music, Clair De Lune by Debussy. I just learned that it is part of a four part suite (thank you again, Wikipedia), and this movement is probably the most recognizable. I think many of you will have heard it before:

The music was inspired by a poem of the same name by Verlaine. I am pretty certain that I once had to recite that poem in a French class. No one should ever have to hear me try to recite a poem in French.

I think that it is one of the most beautiful pieces of music ever. Granted, I don’t know as much as I’d like to about classical music, but this movement makes me feel simultaneously peaceful and imaginative, almost in a child-like way. I suppose that it might be slightly clichéd since it’s translation is “Moonlight,” but I like to listen to it before I go to sleep. My sleep has been plagued by too many bad dreams lately, and so each night before I sleep, I listen to the music, often more than once, to relax and let any negative thoughts fade away before sleep.
I suppose you’re never too old for a lullaby…

Thinking about Forgiveness

I am pretty embarrassed by my car; it’s old, has a bunch of scratches and missing hubcaps, a lot of things inside, like the dome light, no longer work, and it has something like 140k miles on it. When I bought it several years ago, it wasn’t even great then, but it was cheap and only meant to last me a couple of years until I bought something better. I am buying something better this year, but in the mean time, in my old car, I now only get radio, no CD or MP3 player.
So I change the stations around a lot, and I’ve noticed that for some odd reason, the Florence and the Machine song “Dog Days Are Over” is played on a lot of stations, even ones that you wouldn’t assume.

So I have it stuck in my head tonight, and I find it kind of fitting.

It’s not that I would categorize past days as “the dog days” per se, but a relationship that dragged on far longer than it should have just ended. Part of me is incredibly sad, and I definitely don’t think of time spent with that person negatively. But I do feel optimistic in knowing that the future will be an improvement.

I do know now that for too long I tricked myself into believing someone could make me happy when he couldn’t. And that’s where the “dog days” part comes in; I spent a lot of time kidding myself into think that things were ideal, that the future would be better, that he would make changes.

It seems like the cliche “be true to yourself” would apply here, but I don’t know that anyone ever really knows what that means. In fact, sometimes I think that making mistakes and letting yourself learn lessons the hard way is what it means to be true to yourself. The truth part comes in when you take an honest look at the situation and realize that it didn’t go the way that you wanted, but that is okay. Accept what went wrong and forgive yourself for your mistakes. It’s really hard for people to forgive themselves. I think it is much easier to forgive someone else, but if we can grant that generosity and love to ourselves, then maybe it opens us up give more and to love more.

And it’s that thought that gives me so much peace, and makes me want to dance cheerfully.

Pho Goodness Sake!

I have so many thoughts running through my head lately, that it seems like they are getting jammed in the doorway and none of them are making it to my blog. Whoops. But here’s one that has been on my mind:

I really, really love Pho. It’s got all of the key components: Beef, noodles, thai basil, cilantro, onions, jalapenos, lime (sometimes lemon) and chili paste. The first time I tried it, I was in awe; it was as if someone put my favorite flavors from various cuisines all into one steaming bowl of goodness.

One thing everyone needs to know is that I am an eater. I wish I could be one of those girls with the bird-like appetites, but I am not. When I am hungry and I set out to eat, I am going to really chow down. I eat more than many men that I know. When I used to run regularly, part of my motivation in running was just so that I could work up an appetite to eat even more. I try to reign in my appetite more these days since I am getting older and I am not as active as I used to be, but just know that when I eat, I mean business.

So back to Pho and it being one of my favorite things. Just the other evening I met someone who was visiting Orange County from New York, and he wanted to know what good food he should try. Now, there are a few decent restaurants in Fullerton, but if a New Yorker wants something that he couldn’t get out there, it’s Pho all the way.

One of the great things about it is that Pho is really hard to mess up. To me, as long as the broth is hot and just a little beefy and aromatic, and you give me plenty of the fixin’s, it’s then all on me to mix and balance the ingredients to my liking. Because of this, I often don’t understand why people on Yelp give low scores to Pho places– usually the low scores are about the service or the Spring Rolls, but when I go, I don’t care if the person is rude or doesn’t speak English or what the Spring Rolls are like; I will point to the number with the bowl of rare steak and then happily slurp it up.

So imagine my surprise when I discovered a place with bad Pho. I didn’t think it was possible. I used to love the place; they were unique and added the slightest hint of lemongrass to the broth which made it extra- excellent. But then they changed owners, and converted to a half Pho/ half Korean BBQ place. I love Korean BBQ, but to me that’s a different restaurant altogether. When I got my bowl, the broth was kind of oily and a bit salty. They didn’t have thai basil at all, and tried to make up for it with cilantro. Noo! I like cilantro, but there is a delicate balance. They had no limes either; I’m normally okay with substituting lemons, but this added to the disappointment. And worst of all, they only gave three scrawny slices of steak. I rarely frown at my food, but that night, I was frowning.

Like I said, it’s hard to mess up Pho, but when a person does, it is SO disappointing!

A much better place is Pho 88 on Lemon and Orangethorpe. There’s also a really nice one in Brea on Imperial by the Home Depot. I also hear that a new one on the South East corner of Chapman and State College, next to the 99 cent store, is good, but I have never tried it. I just might swing by there later this week to get my Pho fix.

Why I am A Keeper but not a keeper

Sometimes when I have a daunting task ahead, (like the many stacks of papers surrounding me that need grading) I find myself finding more pressing issues to take care of, issues like organizing my closet, vacuuming my car, getting my eyebrows done, and scrubbing the bath tub. The semester that I wrote my Masters thesis, I had the cleanest and most organized apartment I have ever lived in.

So today I did manage to accomplish a lot of important tasks, and among those was my paper grading quota for the day, so I can confess to all of this in good conscience. As I was busy organizing sweaters and hair elastics, I got to noticing that I am the type that cannot stand clutter. Now, I am not the most organized person in the world, but I also don’t like having too much stuff around. It reminds me of a commercial where Bethenny Frankel is showing off her closet and says, “I’m not a keeper. I mean, I’m a keeper, but I’m not a “keeper.” That’s something that I wish I said first, because it does describe me (and my sense of humor). I have a habit of impulsively discarding of things. Sometimes if I am just not “feeling” something in my space, I get rid of it. I can be quite fickle, too. Sometimes I will dig through my closet for an article of clothing, only to remember later that one day the color didn’t speak to me and so I got rid of it.

My roommate is the opposite. She and I aren’t close; she was subletting a room in her 2 bedroom place at a time that I needed to move out quickly. Anyway, she is the type that has a lot of stuff, stuff that I don’t understand why she keeps around. She has her reasons, and I am sure that the items have some sort of sentimental appeal. She keeps wine bottles, bottles that to me don’t seem all that great because they weren’t a particularly special bottle of wine. She talks about wanting to do something creative with them, except that she never does, she just stock piles them. I finally had to find a hiding place for them because they were taking over the counter. I like to think of myself as a creative person as well, but unless you’re going to make something with the bottles soon, they are just trash sitting on the counter.

And that makes me wonder if I just lack sentimentality. I don’t keep many mementos, and much of my sentimental stuff is locked away in a storage unit. I don’t feel sad without it. In fact, the only reason I keep the storage unit is to hold all of the books that I own until I find a place big enough to hold all of them. But really, most people have stuff around their home, pictures on the walls, knick knacks or whatever. I have a lot of shoes. It does make me wonder if I am a dull person. Or a blank person. Or that I have attachment issues. And that I lack drive when it comes to decorating.

The people in the apartment next to mine recently moved out, and they caused our property manager a lot of grief because they left behind a lot of gross trash (along with a filthy apartment). The sad thing is that it took them a long time to move, and they left piles upon piles of trash around the dumpsters that they filled (gross!). I am pretty sure that they were like those people on that show Hoarders. I have never been able to sit through an episode of that show, because it freaks me out. The idea of being practically buried alive under junk is horrifying. Perhaps the idea of being stuck or too tied to a place is my problem?

I think that when people fill their surroundings with stuff, they do so to try to establish permanence, like they want to feel tied to a place. Perhaps that is what it means to make a place a home. People often say that objects make them feel nostalgic, and I don’t think it is a coincidence that the etymology of nostalgia comes from the word for “home.” So having stuff makes people feel like they are home, but I have to wonder if stuff actually makes a place a home. Maybe the whole idea is an illusion; you know that Thomas Wolfe famously said “You can’t go home again,” and perhaps he is right. The whole idea of home is an illusion, but surrounding oneself with stuff makes that illusion seem more real. Maybe the idea of home that we are looking for faded away with our childhoods, and we spend most of our adult lives looking for ways to recreate the feeling of security that a home did when we were children. And so maybe stuff just doesn’t quite do that for me.

On Posing.

I’ll throw it out there: It really amuses me when people that I do not like reveal stupid things about themselves on Facebook and make it public for everyone to see. They satisfy my desire to dig up dirt on them without me actually having to get my hands dirty. I realize that that sentence could start to lean towards creepy stalker territory– in journalism that’s praised as “investigative reporting;” in blogging it just borders on creepy, so I am going to nonchalantly walk away from that one and get to the point I wanted to make about it.

I find it hilarious when girls post hundreds of pictures of themselves and their friends. I find it even more hilarious when they are several dozen pictures from a weekend trip to Vegas for a Bachelorette party. I find it even more hilarious when they insist on the caption, “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” Because, for one, obviously that is not true if you are posting hundreds of pictures of what happened in Vegas online for the world to see. Doesn’t that sort of defeat the purpose?

But what’s worse is that a quick glance at the photos showed me that they are nothing like the closing sequence in the Hangover.

Instead these pictures show a group of girls posing from the backseat of a car en route to Vegas. Posing as they apply more make up in a hotel room. Then posing together after they’ve finished. Then posing in front of the hotel. Then posing outside a restaurant. Then posing as they toast drinks. Then posing throughout the meal with the same, barely touched drinks. Then posing outside a club. You get the idea.

Something tells me that absolutely nothing exciting happened during this trip. At least nothing that I’d consider exciting.
And I know that it isn’t just these girls. Recently I was walking through downtown on a Friday night and I passed by one bar where a group of girls were posing for pictures by the entrance, arms awkwardly around one another, knees bent in toward one another, as several lights flashed because each girl wanted the exact pose on her camera.

Now maybe it is just weird to me because this was all occurring on my street, and since I live here I don’t think of downtown Fullerton as a destination that I want everyone to know, by proof of a picture, that I go to. But also, maybe it is weird to me because if it were me and a group of my girlfriends, the last thought to cross our minds would be to pose for a picture outside of a bar. I’d rather go inside the bar and order a drink. Maybe that’s just me. I’m not opposed to pictures taken with friends, but I am opposed to the staged, look, we’re having fun! purpose of it. I’d rather actually be having fun. I’d rather be having too much fun that I forget to take a picture, but find that a friend took some candid shots throughout the night– some funny, some embarrassing, but all representative of the time we had. Sure, I have a collection of semi-staged pictures of a table full of friends that are reuniting, or goofy self-portrait style pics of a friend and I at an Angels game when we should have been watching the game instead of trying to figure out the best angle for a shot of us.

And yeah, this could just be me being defensive about my pathetic lack of current photographs since I always forget to capture those “kodak moments.” Maybe I need to work harder at preserving memories with the people I care about. But when I see that a person literally has over 1000 photos on her Facebook, I’ve got to wonder. It seems to me like the intended message there is look at all the exciting things that I do with my life! But unless you have a private photographer following you around, or you’re stalked by TMZ or something, I’ve got to wonder if you’re truly living an exciting life. Because when it comes to the most exciting times in my life, I know I wasn’t experiencing them from an LCD screen on my camera. I was living them.

And letting other people capture them on camera. Ha!

A Memorable Weekend

Staying home on Halloween almost feels wrong; I normally love the holiday and dressing up, but this year I am in my pajamas, about to watch a few episodes of The Simpsons’ Tree house of Horror. I find it is the best way to unwind and work off my jet lag, since I just got back from D.C. this morning. First of all, if you’re ever given the option to fly from the East to West at 6 a.m., just say no. That part was not my idea. What was my idea was a quick turn around to D.C. to participate in Jon Stewart and Colbert’s “Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear.”

I knew it was going to be a big crowd, but I have honestly never been a part of a crowd of over 200,000 people. It was kind of overwhelming. 
Yeah, I am somewhere in there in the middle. Can you spot me? Yeah. I was actually kind of over to the right, near the trees. For much of the rally, I was stuck behind a tree and couldn’t see a whole lot, but eventually I got a good view of a jumbotron.
The best part of it was just being there and being a part of that crowd. I’ve read a few responses to the rally today online, and I’m disappointed with the way a lot of writers have misinterpreted or looked for the negativity in it.

No, it was not a political rally. Say what you want about the audience of The Daily Show and Colbert Report being mostly liberal, but I was there, and the message was pretty apolitical. One of the friends that I went with is a Conservative. While the rally did in many ways mock Glenn Beck’s recent rally(mostly just in name and location), it was a lot more about musicians playing, and Stewart and Colbert doing their usual satire on mainstream news media.
But I’ve read a lot of complaints (mostly in blogs) about how it demonstrates the lack of purpose and direction of moderate to liberal generation x/y-ers, how depressing it is that 200k people would gather to mock something rather than to do something, and that no one really knew why they were all there.

Now I know everyone had his/her own understanding of what it meant to be there and why. But from being there, interacting with people,and listening to the performances, I can say that I think that the fact that it was a mock-rally-turned-rally is exactly the point. The people who have complained that instead of attending a mock rally, young people should be rallying for specific causes miss the actual point. If there was a point, part of it, I’d say, is that at some point, we’ve all got to look around at the culture of extremist politics and say “Enough is enough!”

Sure, there are causes that I support, but no, I don’t want to carry around signs, shout, and call people names. I don’t want to listen to people who are doing just that, no matter what the message is. Nor do most people, I assume. Because shouting, taking on extreme ideologies, creating artificial dichotomies of “us” versus “them” is just counter productive and a waste of time. There aren’t “good guys” and “bad guys.” There are people who might have opinions that I strongly disagree with, but I don’t think that they are necessarily awful people (ok, some are, but not most). I am obviously not alone in that sentiment. So if anything, the rally’s point was to shed light in a humorous fashion on how absurd political culture has become, and that we need to stop yelling and start listening more. We all want to see some kind of change, and we might all slightly disagree on what kind of change, but unless we make small compromises, NOTHING will change.

Jon Stewart’s speech at the end (which was followed by Tony Bennett singing; I’m not gonna lie, that was pretty dope), was inspiring, in my opinion. I liked his example of freeway traffic that has to merge lanes to make it through a tunnel– each driver of each car has a different perspective; we might even disagree with the sticker on his/her car, or the type of cars the others drive. But then we get over it, and we let one person go, then I go, then you can go, then I’ll go– until everyone squeezes into those lanes. That is indeed what happens every minute in America, and we need to remind ourselves of what we can accomplish when we work together.
But more than that, I am still annoyed and maybe offended by one popular OC blogger that calls people like me at the rally cowards or weak for not truly fighting for important causes– his example was the DREAM act; a cause that I also feel strongly about, and so I felt even more offended by his assertion that I give in to mainstream culture and don’t stand up for a cause.

But what I wish that people with that kind of attitude would remember is that real social change, real change when you see ideologies shift and stretch to bring about good to more people, comes not from any extreme position, but from subtle change in the middle. Civil rights, womens’ suffrage,and workers’ rights started with extreme points of view, but were effective when people in the middle of the political spectrum started talking, listened to new perspectives, and made minor concessions. The drafters of the United States Constitution were not the homogeneous patriots that people today imagine; it was also created concession by concession, with Adams and Jefferson strongly disagreeing on the role of federal government throughout. But rational discourse and compromise made it happen.

So what did this rally accomplish? Maybe nothing. But if it encouraged some people to stop bickering and start listening to one another, if it encouraged people to talk rationally instead of shouting over one another, then I think it was worth it.

Remember when I said I was standing in the part of the mall where the trees are? Well after a while, people started climbing those trees to get a better view. One young guy tried climbing, but got kind of stuck on the way up. People started shouting advice and encouragement to him, and as he seemed to get a strong grasp, people clapped for him. Then his foot slipped, and a collective sigh/groan came out of the surrounding crowd. “Yes you can! Yes you can!” the hundreds in our section began chanting. He pulled himself up a little more to where someone else in the tree could give him a hand and help him up the rest of the way. As he waved back down to his audience, the crowd burst into applause and cheers. If my little corner of the rally was in any way emblematic of the rest of the crowd, then I am optimistic about the potential of American people.

Don’t over think it

I love parties (who doesn’t?), and I especially love surprise parties and themed parties. So when my friend’s wife organized a surprise, Jersey-shore themed party for his 30th birthday, I was super excited. I caked on the bronzer and eye makeup, poofed up my hair, and rocked some fuzzy slippers all night. Epic win! It was especially fitting since Joe moved here from New Jersey when we were in high school, and we were affectionately calling him a guido since back then. To be sure, he out grew the guido-ness before we got to senior year, but the throwback to his roots was great.

 

While we were there, we watched the Pacquiao- Margarito fight. I don’t go out of my way to watch boxing, but when there are big fights and a friend or bar has it on pay-per-view, I’ll watch it.

 

I feel like boxing is one of those things that you can’t think too much about if you want to enjoy a fight. It’s really barbaric when you think about it. Two men fighting for the sake of fighting? Trying to knock the other one out? The objective is to do as much damage to the other guy as possible? And people pay ridiculous amounts of money to watch this. How is it any different than the days of gladiators, when the crowds would pack into the coliseum and watch one contender die? Obviously, death is not the objective in boxing, but it is pretty violent. Anyone who saw the fight Saturday night saw how badly beat up Margarito was. It kind of disturbed me the way that Manny even kept glancing at the refs to see if they were going to stop the fight. By the way, I like that he backed off a little during the 11th and 12th rounds; that was a classy move. But isn’t it kind of disturbing, the way audiences are riveted and cheer along, and the cameras show the blows from different angles, in slow motion. Why do we condone this kind of violence?
Now, to be fair, I recognize the athleticism and skill involved in it. It’s impressive what they do, and there is something eloquent about it. It isn’t just two men trying to beat one another up; there’s strategy and skill in it. It’s definitely more impressive than UFC. I am probably putting my foot in my mouth by saying this, but I’ve noticed that while not all people who like UFC are douchebags, every douchebag I meet seems to really like it. I’m just saying. Again, liking it does not make one douchey! It’s just an overwhelming trend amongst douches.

Anyway.

My father’s dream was to be a professional boxer, but his shoulder was badly injured in college football and then died young. So perhaps the slight attraction to it comes from that. Whatever the case, it is fascinating to watch. I just can’t over think it, or I’ll begin to question what it means to be civilized.

Biographies of Blondes

First: The French onion soup fr om Trader Joe’s is the business. You don’t want to be near enough to smell my breath when I say that though.

Also: A stormy Saturday makes for a perfect day to catch up on reading. Now that all of my students’ papers are graded and returned, and I’ve got over a week until I get new ones in, I’m not too drained to pick up a book/Kindle. So I am picking up where I left off in a biography of Marie Antoinette, called Marie Antoinette: The Journey. It’s the biography that Sofia Coppola based her Marie Antoinette film on. Now, as some may know, especially from reading my “About” page, I was Marie Antoinette in a past life. True Story. Okay, perhaps only true in my imagination. See, I once had an incredibly vivid dream that I was decapitated in a guillotine, and coupled with my love of cake, it seems like a no-brainer.

Marie Antoinette never said “Let Them Eat Cake.” No one really knows who said it first, but the first known instance of some aristocrat ignorantly saying this was recorded 100 years before the storming of the Bastille. Also, to say something of the sort would be completely out of character for Maria Antonia (her Austrian name), as I am learning. It really is a fascinating read, especially if you want to geek-out on all of the complexities of the French royal court pre- revolution. It was truly a bizarre culture.

Then again, any culture that could come up with so many strange things to do to an egg must be a little bizarre . Really. I’ve often wondered the trial and error that went down when it came to French cuisine. And did they test the dishes on some  peasant to determine just how much butter is needed to make snails palatable?  How many people got sick before they determined how old eggs must be to make the perfect pastry?

But I digress. The point was that I am reading a  biography that I like. I don’t read biographies all that often, but I’ve noticed that I have a fascination in reading about legendary women who are far different than the icon that they represent. For example, I love that Marie Antoinette was actually kind,generous, and often frightened– not the frivolous bitch we always imagine. The French court itself was frivolous, and she being the most recognizable face of the court made her the scapegoat of the revolution.

My all time favorite person to read about is Marilyn Monroe. I have an obsession with her that I should probably talk to a trained professional about. But one of my favorite things about her was that she was not the dumb blonde everyone imagined. The is one of my favorite photographs of her, especially because she is reading Ulysses, which I wrote my Master’s thesis on! And I can attest to the complexity of that novel.

I’ve heard a lot of buzz about a biography that just came out about Cleopatra, and so I think that one is up next.

And here’s to hoping that some day, someone will find the biography of Rachel Murphree riveting. HAHA!

Random Thoughts For A Sunday Night

Random thoughts for a Sunday night:

Does anyone find The Cleavland Show funny? I’ve never met someone who really likes it. I wish Seth MacFarlane would stick to Family Guy only.

I love my ancient apartment, but it is extremely drafty in this weather. Not only that, but the hot water in the shower runs out really quickly. Which is all leading to me dreading my upcoming shower.

I heard the funniest thing today: I never get jealous when I see my ex with someone new, because my parents always taught me to give my used toys to the less fortunate. I wish I came up with that one myself. Let’s all just pretend that I did.

Decaffinated Candy Cane Green Tea is a wonderful treat at night.

Holy Smokes! I just realized that The Wizard of Oz is on TV right now. Love it!

My Thanksgiving was wonderful; in fact, for the last week I have gotten to spend a lot of time with family and friends, and I couldn’t be happier.

Unless Larry Fitzgerald has a stunning night tomorrow, I will continue to be in last place in my fantasy football league. I have been a sucky owner this season. C’est la vie.

I wish I had ruby slippers. I did recently get these shoes, so I will think of them as my emerald slippers.

There’s No Place Like Home

Today was an absolutely gorgeous day: 80 degrees and sunny. Now, normally I would whine about 80 degree weather in the middle of January, but since I spent the first part of the week visiting a friend in Boston, this late-Spring weather was a very welcome change.

When I got to Boston, I commented on how I had never actually seen snowfall. Then, a few days later, Boston got a “Nor’Easter;” otherwise known as a blizzard. Yeah, I have witchy powers like that.

Here are some pictures I took of the blizzard from my phone:

Yes, it was beautiful, and even more beautiful in person. But I am so thankful that I don’t live in such a climate.
In the beginning it was fun, and such a novelty to bundle up and put on gloves, a hat, a scarf, thick socks, boots, and a coat. Until I got on a train, where the temperature would be 90 degrees, and less than a minute later I’d be sweating and feeling nauseated. So I’d take off all of the extra accessories, only to have to put them back on a few moments later when we came up to my stop.

Also, as I watched the peaceful snowfall from the window, I noticed the neighbors rushing out to shovel out there cars, as the snow still drifted down. “Why don’t they just wait until it stops?” I asked my friend. Remember, I was born and raised in Southern California. “Because if they wait too long, it will all ice over, and then you just have to wait for it to thaw. And it happens pretty quickly.”

What the ?! Holy crap, that sucks. The same goes for the driveway, sidewalk and steps. My friend is fortunate enough to live in an apartment and doesn’t own a car, and I cannot fathom why anyone in the city would choose to live otherwise.

But Boston is a beautiful city. There’s so much history, the buildings are lovely, the people are charming, and the food is amazing. I also really dig a good Boston accent. As we walked out of the airport and boarded the blue line, one of the security guys greeted us and declared that it was “a wicked cold night” and other things that I could not understand since his accent was so thick! Love it!

But now that I am back and the weather is so much kinder, I decided that a nice hike would be a great way to work off all of the fish and chips and boston cream pie I pigged out on earlier in the week. So imagine my disappointment when I drove all the way down to Crystal Cove state park, only to find that the trails were washed away in the recent storms and are closed to the public. Normally I’d scoff at the signs and hike anyway, but some other people told me that they were ticketing for trespassing. Yeah, no bueno.

So I came back to Fullerton and decided to exploring some of the trails that make up the Fullerton Loop. The Fullerton Loop really is a great trail, and I spent a couple of hours trying to navigate my way through a city I thought I knew pretty well.
And that is one of the things I love about Fullerton: just when you think that you know the city, you stumble upon something unexpected and wonderful. The Fullerton Trail is one such place, and Craig park is one of my all time favorite places to escape to. But also places like Max Bloom’s Cafe Noir, Veronese Gallery Cafe, The Commonwealth Post Office (yes, the post office. I love that one!), Les Amis Lebanese cafe (om nom nom!) the Villa Del Sol plaza… they all help make Fullerton unique.
Fullerton might not have as many famous landmarks as a city like Boston, but it’s home and it always brings a smile to my face. Especially on a day like today.

These Are A Few of My Favorite Things, And I Don’t Care!

A friend of mine has a birthday coming up, and our plan for her celebration began as somewhat of a joke: a snuggie pub crawl. Now, I’ve heard of such things before, and the thought of having a beer in a snuggie is just too funny to pass up.

So yesterday I bought a snuggie, a leopard print one because it seemed to be the most over the top design; I typically avoid anything animal print, just because it doesn’t seem very “me.” Anyway, I bought said snuggie with a bit of a giggle, and when I got home, I took it out of the box and tried it out, and guess what– I really love it. You can’t deny that it’s a brilliant idea. So why did I feel so ridiculous buying it? Is it the cheesy commercials? The fact that it is a Sky Mall thing? That it seems like a product that is mostly for old people? Really: why are snuggies such a joke?

Which just makes me wonder, how often do we pretend to not like things that we actually like? Or are afraid to admit to certain people that we like something?

I think it comes from fear of being judged by others for what we like. For instance, when hanging out with people who like to boast about their taste in music, I used to hide the fact that I sometimes enjoy cheesy pop music. But one day, I guess I got over that fear. I admitted to this hipster friend of mine that I enjoy all kinds of music, even pop music. The Britney Spears concert I once went to was one of the best shows I’d ever seen. I listen to Lady Gaga on my ipod regularly. It isn’t the only music that I like, but I do like it among other genres. Anyway, that hipster tried to be nice, but could not hide the disgust and disappointment on his face.

But you know what? On further reflection, between the two of us, who is the loser: the one who enjoys pop music, or the one who judges a person for what she likes? I mean, really, as long as it doesn’t harm anyone or anything, who cares what another person likes? It’s pretty douchey to judge another person for having different taste in music. If you really think about it, it’s saying, “your tastes are inferior to mine, and they are inferior only because they are different from mine.”

There was a time, mostly when I was a grad student, when I judged people by what they read. But then I realized that like the hipster, I was being kind of a douche myself. People like things for different reasons, and if a book that I think is cheesy makes another person feel good, then who cares? I only judged them because they didn’t live up to a criteria that I had established in my own mind– and who am I to decide what is “good” literature and what is “bad?” A lot of “good” or “classic” literature was once seen as low-brow or pop culture. I think that the important thing is that a person connects to the thing that they like.

So if “Poker Face” puts a little bounce in my step, or The Real Housewives has me on the edge of my seat, or Del Taco makes my taste buds sing, then…that’s great. There’s more to me than that, and at the same time, the things I like make me who I am.

So don’t ever be afraid to own up to the things that you like, even if it is a leopard print snuggie!

How I Talk Myself in to Staying In.

For a Friday night, I am feeling pretty lazy and anti-social. The Downtown Fullerton Art Walk is going on now, and seeing as I live downtown and love supporting local artists, I feel like I should go around and check it out. None of my close friends are interested though, and while I’d normally just go check it out on my own, I don’t have the energy to walk around and chat up acquaintances.

Plus, sometimes, I get a little tired of the scene. One thing that I have noticed about events like art walks is that since it seems like such a cool thing to do (and it really is, at least the idea of it– cities displaying local artists is a great thing!) people feel pressured to be “cool.” And I get the sense that a lot of people feel insecure about their “coolness” in these settings, so they try extra hard to make their presence and attitude seem effortless. And so they dress in their best hipster outfit. They try walking with indifference but you can tell by the way that they don’t know what to do with their hands that they really are extremely self-conscious. They scope out the room for who is the coolest person that they kind of know, so that they can demonstrate their affiliation with other cool people to the rest of their self-conscious friends. They try to be witty in their small talk. They actually say very little about the art, for fear of revealing some lack of knowledge or some inferior opinion about art. They look at other people in the room, size them up, determine their coolness factor.

It all makes me feel like I am in high school again, in the worst of ways. Not all of the venues bring in this sort of crowd, but I have experienced the scene that I described, and it makes me uncomfortable. There is this one girl in particular that really rubs me the wrong way; she is good friends with some of the people I know who own galleries, and there have been times when we’ve all hung out together. Quite a few times; in fact, we’ve even been to mutual friends’ small parties, though I don’t know her all that well. By this point, we’ve obviously been introduced to each other several times, but every time I see her and I am talking to a mutual friend, she will introduce herself to me as if we have never met. Not in the way that she wants to make small talk and is asking my name; she looks at me and says, “Hi, I’m (so-and-so).” And that is all. That annoys the hell out of me, and I don’t think it is my ego talking. I would understand perfectly if she just could not remember my name, but that there was at least a glimmer of recognition there. Or if it was an introduction to small talk, but nope. She usually ignores me after reminding me of her name.

If she really doesn’t recognize people that she’s recently met several times, that suggests to me that she must be too wrapped up with herself to pay attention to the people that she meets. It suggests to me that it is all phony, when she meets a person and shakes his or her hand. I know that I am not that big of a deal. And I also don’t think that she is that big of a deal. So either it is all an act to make herself seem too important to recognize her friends’ friends, or, she really does imagine herself so important that she doesn’t bother to recognize faces.

Either way, it makes me really dislike her. And that behavior seems pretty normal for that scene.
To be sure, art walks also bring out some very down-to-earth, kind, welcoming people, the kind of people that make up the town I love. But when I am trying to motivate myself to go walk around and check out the art when really I am feeling anti-social inside, I think of her, and the overall sense of people trying really hard to prove their coolness, and I decide that home with a good movie and a glass of wine sounds better.