Although there are a few fun things I need to catch my posts up on, I wanted to share something a bit more serious today.
Last Tuesday, a friend of mine from college, Russell Jones passed away. While I was not the closest to him, we shared a lot of close friends, four of whom I got the message from last Wednesday. I spent a large part of the morning and afternoon still in shock, with brief periods of sadness as well as happiness as I looked over old photos and videos of him. As much as social media can make us feel alone, the past week it's been a blessing, a way for his friends and family to share their good memories of Russell and well wishes for his family. It has really helped me in feeling like 3,000 miles aren't so far.
But they are pretty far this week, when so many will be gathering to remember him. A large part of me wishes I could be there, but knows when I go home in a few weeks I will pay my respects. In the mean time, I can pay my respects in other ways.
I accept that all the things I'm about to say may be cliche, but they're also true. I've seen Russell in any emotion, but most of the time, it was happy. He was a person that couldn't keep that to himself - it spread to those around him, whether they joined in willingly or got dragged along for the ride. His laugh made you smile, if not laugh yourself, and he was unashamed to do anything to get that out of you. I truly believe the best moments in his life were those he shared making others happy or being happy with others. He found his match in ridiculousness with one of our mutual friends, and I remember all the shennanigans they got into - I swear they were trying to top one another, and it made for a great show.
Russell was always up for adventures, or anything new. He was one of the most active people I've met, following his feet into a novel experience over anything ordinary. While he could sit and veg out like any college student, it never lasted a whole day - he would have to get up and release some energy or learn something. He could be competetive when he wanted to be, but giving and loyal to those he trusted. He could be insecure, but also seemed to be okay with that, taking things by the moment and savoring it. Russell lived in the present, as his array of activities, hair-styles, and wardrobe were a testament to that. Ultimately, Russell enjoyed life, and particularly enjoyed it with others.
I'm not sure what I believe beyond the life that we live, but I do believe no one leaves without making the impact they were supposed to, or getting what really matters in life "right". Russell won't get to do many things, but he also did a lot of things many people don't - he took many risks, had a variety of experiences, and made many people happy, even if momentarily. For me, it doesn't matter how long Russell's life was because he lived most of it as full as he possibly could, and he challenged others to do that too.
The best way I can remember him is by doing the same. When I reflect on the past year, my "fullest" moments come in so clearly - racing dolphins in a small boat with good friends, watching people dance as if they choreographed it to live bands, driving as fast as I dared while a friend lifted her arms and head out of my sunroof, seeing laughing faces in the light of a bonfire, and even in class, when a discussion was so inthralling I could tell everyone was on the edge of their seats. The feelings I have in such moments are similar to many I shared with Russell - dressing and attending a themed party, or going drifting in the best snow of the winter in a Wal-mart parking lot. The moments aren't always glamorous or everyone's idea of adventure, but they're the ones that make us feel connected to one another and maybe something bigger, the ones in which we are absolutely sure we are not alone.
Will that be a bit harder to remember in the wake of this? Maybe, and probably for some. I can't say what he would or would not want now, but from here on out who Russell is is how we choose to remember him. I want to remember his best self, and do my best to someday find mine.
Thanks for the laughs and adventures, Cupcake. I'll be seeing you.
Monday, July 22, 2013
Friday, July 19, 2013
Percy, the Prius, Or, I Get Even More West Coast for a Bit
Better late than never?
So on Father's Day, which I spent with my maternal Uncle and cousins, I went to the grocery store. As I was leaving said grocery store, I though it'd be fun to get in a fender bender. When we connected I was more terrified than any other accident I had been in, although I was traveling exponentially slower.
After walking the 30-something year-old driver through the process (he literally ripped off and gave me his entire insurance card), I called my insurance company where the conversation went something like this.
InsuranceLady: Can you describe the situation for me?
Me: Yes. Essentially we were both parked in opposite spots in the same lane. We must have backed out at the same time, because I saw no moving vehicles when I checked before backing out. We met somewhere in the middle of the lane, and we had turned our cars in opposite directions because we connected at each other's driver's tailights.
IL:...So, you both rear-ended each other?
Me: Basically, yes.
IL: (audible sigh) Well, there's a first time for everything.
Her attitude was most helpful.
So while my dear car, Symon, went into the shop for ten days and sadly got his well-chosen bumper stickers replaced with a new bumper, I got to drive THIS:
So on Father's Day, which I spent with my maternal Uncle and cousins, I went to the grocery store. As I was leaving said grocery store, I though it'd be fun to get in a fender bender. When we connected I was more terrified than any other accident I had been in, although I was traveling exponentially slower.
After walking the 30-something year-old driver through the process (he literally ripped off and gave me his entire insurance card), I called my insurance company where the conversation went something like this.
InsuranceLady: Can you describe the situation for me?
Me: Yes. Essentially we were both parked in opposite spots in the same lane. We must have backed out at the same time, because I saw no moving vehicles when I checked before backing out. We met somewhere in the middle of the lane, and we had turned our cars in opposite directions because we connected at each other's driver's tailights.
IL:...So, you both rear-ended each other?
Me: Basically, yes.
IL: (audible sigh) Well, there's a first time for everything.
Her attitude was most helpful.
So while my dear car, Symon, went into the shop for ten days and sadly got his well-chosen bumper stickers replaced with a new bumper, I got to drive THIS:
Nothing says California* like a Prius - for those both economically and environmentally conscious, while perpertually in traffic.
Now I love my car - it's like a hybrid of the 90's and 00's. Although a 2001, it has a cassette player, but it also has leather seats, a single CD player, and sunroof. I like that it takes just over 5 minutes for the air to start being the temperature you desire and the emergency brake is in between the seats, like the gear shift. I've been in more archaic cars, so I never thought it was far behind present models. Until I got in this.
After figuring out the ignition was a button (as is the parking) and locating the parking brake by my left foot, the Jetsons and I proceeded to lift off and fly into the sky.
But then I thought of Symon. His leather seats, all the adventures we'd been on, the new hoods and bumpers he'd had, his ability to survive minor flooding and the epic slurpee spill of 07/11/09, the trip across country that got me out to California in the first place...
How could I so easily forget my first car? Faced with this shiny, efficient future, did the past mean nothing?
Eventually I got sick of all the music on my phone and was disenchanted to find in the manual that "B" only stood for engine Braking...something about going down hills, I don't know. I was happy to see Symon again, although a slightly darker shade of blue and sticker free.
A week ago Symon turned the big 100,000. My baby is a ripe middle-aged machine now, and I couldn' t be more proud. I hope he sees 200,000, but even if he doesn't, I'll keep him til he goes to whatever heaven Disney-Pixar invents for cars. I hope it has rides like the new park.
I have secretly always wondered if I could get to 150mph...but I'd just figure I'd wait until I get plutonium and my flux capacitor and a lightning storm strikes. Sadly in CA, the latter is unlikely to happen any time soon.
And Amazon is all out of plutonium. Consistently.
Monday, July 1, 2013
And Dim Sum
A couple weekends ago, I joined two of my friends on a Saturday restaurant adventure. One of the friends, Mia, had been there before, and thank god she had. In a part of LA that had more Chinese written on the sign than English, she helped us navigate a shopping plaza to the top of the floor. There weren't other stores at the top - the top was the restaurant.
The seafood restaurant flowed in a typical Hong Kong style Dim Sum. We were seated at a table, brought tea, and then waiters with carts of a variety of foods would pass by and offer us whatever we would like. The food comes in individual and sometimes bite-size portions served in steamers or plates, about 3-4 people servings.
The seafood restaurant flowed in a typical Hong Kong style Dim Sum. We were seated at a table, brought tea, and then waiters with carts of a variety of foods would pass by and offer us whatever we would like. The food comes in individual and sometimes bite-size portions served in steamers or plates, about 3-4 people servings.
Some of our dishes!
There were so many foods to choose from! Any meat you could think of: pork, chicken, beef, fish, shrimp, squid, and lobster. And they came in so many forms: fried, cooked as is (spare ribs), on sticks, Gao (rice-wheat dumplings), Bau (fluffy wheat buns with various fillings), soups, and even Phoenix Claws (fried chicken feet...we passed on this one). So many vegetables were included in these dishes and a nice almond paste and taro to some dishes. For dessert we chose and almond one, sesame rolls, and the more american pigs in blankets (they were just too cute!).
As we ordered our food, the cart waiters would stamp a sheet on our table with different numbers or shapes (see below). We tried to decipher the system, but with no luck.
"If we get BINGO, do we get a discount?"
After a very filling meal and waving bye to the soon-to-be-dinner sea animals in tanks along a wall, we stopped by to get Boba tea on the way home.
Friday, June 21, 2013
Are They Line Dancing to Space Jam?, Or, Happy Two Months Pregnant!
While my friends and I have enjoyed a few nights at a bar country line dancing, my roommate, Cort, was really into what's best described as Country Swing, or as the new place we found calls it: TRUE COUNTRY.
Courtesy of truecountrydance.com...I mean that's totally me. Okay, so no, I can't do that but MAYBE someday I will.
By some magic* we found this place that does country swing, which Cort used to do with her undergraduate friends. A couple Wednesdays ago we decided to check it out and found a line wrapped around the building! It was 18+ night, which accounted for the line as well as a wrist-band-only guys rule. After weaving in and grabbing our first round of drinks, we headed to the edge of the main dance floor, just behind the smaller one. There were plenty of people out there...but line dancing! WHAT?
We soon found out that there was a change up pattern - 3-4 songs would be played for line dances, and 3-4 songs would be played for two-stepping or swing dancing. We watched for the first few, but later on a few of us tried to get in on the line dancing and Cort and I two-stepped. A bit later she got asked to dance by a strapping, cowboy-hat-wearing, young gentleman.
After stepping outside for some air, we came back in to find people line dancing to Space Jam**. Then to MmmBop. Then to more strange line dancing songs that I probably blocked out. Suddenly, the music paused as all ladies were asked to get on the floor who could do one particular line dance, and all the gentlemen celebrating birthdays or being newly single got a front row seat.
Afterwards it was the boys turn, which the announcer was sure to emphasize was a "clothes optional" dance.
As a pretty average girl, I dig both the tux and the occasional uniform look. But there is nothing I have found that quite does it for me like a plaid shirt, correctly fitted jeans, and a hat (and maybe a belt buckle, but nothing tacky). So the crowd looked pretty good before they all started ripping their shirts off...then some of them got better. And some got worse (put it BACK on!). Either way, all of a sudden there were a group of about 40 guys, most of them topless, line dancing for the girls who were celebrating birthdays, bachelorettes, being newly single, and 8 weeks pregnant.
Why she was out at a bar 8 weeks pregnant? Not sure. But if you get a crowd of half naked men dancing for you, then I guess I can't judge her life choices too harshly. I'll be sure to note this for my future husband/baby daddy****.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Cross-Fit Is Less Awesome, And, This is Water
So among the copious amount of movies and other nothing I've been doing of late, I decided to try to do Cross-Fit exercises with a good friend.
12-20 minutes. That's all, just push through it, you're done, right?
Wrong. Well, technically, yes, but not so simply. Cross-Fit can be hard. And painful. And hard. And sometimes I feel like the warm-up is enough. But then I do do the rest of it, sometimes pausing before the nausea can occur, sometimes snapping out of my dizzy-driven thoughts to realize I'm on the next exercise.
Yet as much as it is just not enjoyable, I'm going to keep doing it.
Because lately, my days have felt pretty meaningless. I've had staring contests with many-a-screen, and occasionally with a good old fashioned book. I'm not sure how it became a third of the way through June. And the occasional bit of fitness I punch in does remind me that I am still an existing thing beyond what I choose to take in.
Because lately, my days have felt pretty meaningless. I've had staring contests with many-a-screen, and occasionally with a good old fashioned book. I'm not sure how it became a third of the way through June. And the occasional bit of fitness I punch in does remind me that I am still an existing thing beyond what I choose to take in.
But I watched this today, and no matter who you are - graduate student, unemployed, employed but burnt out or just feeling "stuck" in whatever worry you cannot fully comprehend or name, I think you should watch it too.
I hope it helps. I think I'll try.
Saturday, June 1, 2013
June Jubilation, Or, My New Addiction to Competitive Television
This past March I participated in my first ever March Madness bracket. With some advice from my basketball playing cousin, I made my bracket and ended up winning*!
While I've learned that my favorite phrase to yell at televised sporting events is "get your s**t together", I've also learned that I love the systematic order and yet luck that comes with picking your winners - where math and destiny collide.
So I decided to apply this to the most heart-wrenching, riveting, televised competition of all. The Bachelorette.
Is this novel? Not in the least. Brackets have been around for at least the past couple seasons, which is pretty much when I started watching anyway. By the second season I viewed I'd invented a drinking game, but it just hasn't been enough. So it was time to up the ante.
First I thought at least my sisters would get involved. But after my first viewing party (which included two loud and opinionated men**) there will now be around 10 females participating in the bracket. I have yet to come up with prizes, although making our own Shiva***, a couple bottles of wine, and bragging rights sound about right.
Let the games begin!
______________________________________________________________________
Things I'm looking for in a new apartment/house:
1.) Allows dogs that are actually dogs (no 35lbs restriction).
2.) Not beneath a master bedroom. Because there's no nice way to offer your neighbors a can of WD-40.
3.) Relatively cheap.
Everything else, I welcome the DIY.
While I've learned that my favorite phrase to yell at televised sporting events is "get your s**t together", I've also learned that I love the systematic order and yet luck that comes with picking your winners - where math and destiny collide.
So I decided to apply this to the most heart-wrenching, riveting, televised competition of all. The Bachelorette.
Is this novel? Not in the least. Brackets have been around for at least the past couple seasons, which is pretty much when I started watching anyway. By the second season I viewed I'd invented a drinking game, but it just hasn't been enough. So it was time to up the ante.
My summer productivity in the print.
First I thought at least my sisters would get involved. But after my first viewing party (which included two loud and opinionated men**) there will now be around 10 females participating in the bracket. I have yet to come up with prizes, although making our own Shiva***, a couple bottles of wine, and bragging rights sound about right.
Let the games begin!
______________________________________________________________________
Things I'm looking for in a new apartment/house:
1.) Allows dogs that are actually dogs (no 35lbs restriction).
2.) Not beneath a master bedroom. Because there's no nice way to offer your neighbors a can of WD-40.
3.) Relatively cheap.
Everything else, I welcome the DIY.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Katy Perry I Let You Down, Or, How My Virgin Trip to Vegas Was Everything and Nothing I Expected
Back in the middle of February, I took my first ever trip to Vegas. Although I probably could've made the trip with a few friends, I never set out for Atlantic City on the East Coast. Even if I had, I'm not sure how it would've compared to the one and only Vegas.
After a four hour drive and just after the sun had set, we entered Vegas on a Friday evening. It was simultaneously smaller and larger than I had imagined. All the hotels and main attractions mentioned in any good film, book, or debauchery story seemed to fit so snuggly together, huddled around the main strip like they're huddling for warmth out in the Nevada desert; at the same time, walking any distance in heels seemed absolutely absurd, and yet I knew many girls did this every night.
Each building one-uped the one before it as we drove in. I love Ocean's Eleven, and it was strange to see Bellagio in person - again, somehow being both smaller and yet larger in real life than on the screen.
After a very confusing parking lot, slight panic over possibly not having the rooms we booked, and a slow pour in of all of our party members, we settled in. The room had a kitchen, multiple televisions, including a projector that projected onto the blind that covered the wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling window in the main room. One room had a jacuzzi bath, which was given to the birthday girl, the boys (whom I only vaguely knew one) got the main room, and the rest of us 7 girls piled into the other room later that night...but we'll get to that later.
We had gotten in later than expected, so after lighter dinners we began throwing back drinks, mostly tequila. While we all got ready, we noticed an odd smell and it didn't take long to figure out the guys had brought weed...which is just what one thinks would be perfect for a non-smoking suite with no ventilation whatsoever. This lead to an awkward confrontation where the guys insisted it was fine, nothing would happen, and if it did they would pay. They soon left to hit the tables, we finished dressing/pre-gaming/taking random pictures, and then proceeded to head out.
The first challenge: the elevator. Most people, elevators take about 3 minutes. But you're usually not trying to herd 9 very drunk cats into an elevator, intoxicated yourself. And keep them from pressing all the buttons. Or getting off on the wrong floor. After a few downs, then ups, then downs again, we finally made it from the 2-something floor to the bottom.
We then ever so casuallly crossed the main floor, took an escalator down to the entrance to board a party bus. Traveling sideways with lots of visual and auditory stimulation is trippy enough, but even more so thanks to alcohol. The ride, mostly full of friends of friends of friends, took longer than I expected, and I wasn't horribly surprised to catch one of my friends very quietly losing her stomach into a borrowed stranger's cup.
At the hotel, half of us parted to the bathroom while the rest of us tried to navigate the casino tables to the club within the new hotel. We texted the others who's name to give to get in, but a few of them never made it, having gotten "X"ed out for getting sick into an ice bucket (I still think they should've been more grateful it wasn't the floor). Inside we enoyed the perks of a table, including drinks, seats when not on the dance floor, and the occasional dance on higher ground. Most of us got in between 2-3am and snuggled into spots wherever there was room.
The next morning most of us were not feeling our best, but after a round of showers and food we took to the streets to explore Vegas during the day.
Sooner than I would've liked, we returned to our rooms to get ready for our second night. During which, the boys finally did get in trouble (which was a good thing as their room reaked at this point) and after a tense half hour where we weren't sure what was going to happen, they packed up their stuff and left. With drama gone, we finished getting ready and got into a great large group vehicle, where our driver happily answered our Vegas and more psychology-related questions (all of our group are studying psychology). He was such a good sport and seemed to enjoy us too, that a few of our group got his number to call him next time we were in Vegas.
I really wish this second night could've gone better for myself, as by the time we got all the way into the club both of my heels were bleeding from my shoes. I ended up spending the night in a booth with guys I didn't know, watching Hulu off my phone when not listening to the great DJ or watching the parade of too-drunk-to-function be dragged out. I was happy that everyone else got to dance and have a good time however, and in a couple hours a few people wanted to go back and I went with them.
While the three of us were standing in the taxi line, we made friends with this guy who was trying to get his mostly asleep buddy home. He was actually from California, not far from where we go to school and was pretty cute. We ended up sharing a cab, one of my roommates and I in the frontseat and the guy, his passed out friend, and our other friend in the back. I was hoping he might try to swap information when we got out at our hotel, but too soon did the taxi take them away. It wasn't until our walk in that my friend who had been in the backseat had asked about either my roommate or I, but since she couldn't hear which one of us he meant, she had just told him "she has a boyfriend" - true for my roommate but not for me! Although both friends tried to tell me I'm better off with someone who directly asks for my number (okay, true), it was still a bit sad to know how close I just may have been.
The next day we would have to rise early, pack, and leave to make it back in time for a study group. Although I could've spent a little more time gambling and less time in horrible shoes I brought on myself, Vegas still turned out to be everything and nothing like I thought.
After a four hour drive and just after the sun had set, we entered Vegas on a Friday evening. It was simultaneously smaller and larger than I had imagined. All the hotels and main attractions mentioned in any good film, book, or debauchery story seemed to fit so snuggly together, huddled around the main strip like they're huddling for warmth out in the Nevada desert; at the same time, walking any distance in heels seemed absolutely absurd, and yet I knew many girls did this every night.
Caesar's Palace
The shakey Bellagio
The Patriotic Venetian...confusing.
Each building one-uped the one before it as we drove in. I love Ocean's Eleven, and it was strange to see Bellagio in person - again, somehow being both smaller and yet larger in real life than on the screen.
After a very confusing parking lot, slight panic over possibly not having the rooms we booked, and a slow pour in of all of our party members, we settled in. The room had a kitchen, multiple televisions, including a projector that projected onto the blind that covered the wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling window in the main room. One room had a jacuzzi bath, which was given to the birthday girl, the boys (whom I only vaguely knew one) got the main room, and the rest of us 7 girls piled into the other room later that night...but we'll get to that later.
We had gotten in later than expected, so after lighter dinners we began throwing back drinks, mostly tequila. While we all got ready, we noticed an odd smell and it didn't take long to figure out the guys had brought weed...which is just what one thinks would be perfect for a non-smoking suite with no ventilation whatsoever. This lead to an awkward confrontation where the guys insisted it was fine, nothing would happen, and if it did they would pay. They soon left to hit the tables, we finished dressing/pre-gaming/taking random pictures, and then proceeded to head out.
The first challenge: the elevator. Most people, elevators take about 3 minutes. But you're usually not trying to herd 9 very drunk cats into an elevator, intoxicated yourself. And keep them from pressing all the buttons. Or getting off on the wrong floor. After a few downs, then ups, then downs again, we finally made it from the 2-something floor to the bottom.
We then ever so casuallly crossed the main floor, took an escalator down to the entrance to board a party bus. Traveling sideways with lots of visual and auditory stimulation is trippy enough, but even more so thanks to alcohol. The ride, mostly full of friends of friends of friends, took longer than I expected, and I wasn't horribly surprised to catch one of my friends very quietly losing her stomach into a borrowed stranger's cup.
My view down the partybus.
At the hotel, half of us parted to the bathroom while the rest of us tried to navigate the casino tables to the club within the new hotel. We texted the others who's name to give to get in, but a few of them never made it, having gotten "X"ed out for getting sick into an ice bucket (I still think they should've been more grateful it wasn't the floor). Inside we enoyed the perks of a table, including drinks, seats when not on the dance floor, and the occasional dance on higher ground. Most of us got in between 2-3am and snuggled into spots wherever there was room.
The next morning most of us were not feeling our best, but after a round of showers and food we took to the streets to explore Vegas during the day.
Ah, freshish air!
The "Eiffel Tower" - got a pretty awesome souvenir and drink here
Indoor rainstorm in the Mile Mall
After some dinner, we decided to meet up with others to play! We found our friends at a roulette table, giving a group of guys numbers to play on. We shortly switched to roulette machines ourselves, some of us having decent luck!
My first cashout voucher and a machine!...okay so I lost $1.75, but I'll find a way to make ends meet.
Sooner than I would've liked, we returned to our rooms to get ready for our second night. During which, the boys finally did get in trouble (which was a good thing as their room reaked at this point) and after a tense half hour where we weren't sure what was going to happen, they packed up their stuff and left. With drama gone, we finished getting ready and got into a great large group vehicle, where our driver happily answered our Vegas and more psychology-related questions (all of our group are studying psychology). He was such a good sport and seemed to enjoy us too, that a few of our group got his number to call him next time we were in Vegas.
I really wish this second night could've gone better for myself, as by the time we got all the way into the club both of my heels were bleeding from my shoes. I ended up spending the night in a booth with guys I didn't know, watching Hulu off my phone when not listening to the great DJ or watching the parade of too-drunk-to-function be dragged out. I was happy that everyone else got to dance and have a good time however, and in a couple hours a few people wanted to go back and I went with them.
While the three of us were standing in the taxi line, we made friends with this guy who was trying to get his mostly asleep buddy home. He was actually from California, not far from where we go to school and was pretty cute. We ended up sharing a cab, one of my roommates and I in the frontseat and the guy, his passed out friend, and our other friend in the back. I was hoping he might try to swap information when we got out at our hotel, but too soon did the taxi take them away. It wasn't until our walk in that my friend who had been in the backseat had asked about either my roommate or I, but since she couldn't hear which one of us he meant, she had just told him "she has a boyfriend" - true for my roommate but not for me! Although both friends tried to tell me I'm better off with someone who directly asks for my number (okay, true), it was still a bit sad to know how close I just may have been.
The next day we would have to rise early, pack, and leave to make it back in time for a study group. Although I could've spent a little more time gambling and less time in horrible shoes I brought on myself, Vegas still turned out to be everything and nothing like I thought.
The strip early at night.
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