15 posts tagged “life”

I love L.A.

I'm fascinated by the looks people give me when I say this. Something like disbelief, sometimes even a little pity, as if they suddenly realize I must not have traveled outside of Southern California in my life. I smile back, sometimes a little vapidly, just for the hell of it. I don't care. I love L.A.

I'm about as L.A. as you can get, which we all know  means I'm a hypocrite. I'm against gas-guzzling SUVs, but nothing smells like home more than the smog coming in over LAX. I gaze out through watering eyes at those dreamy purple sunsets knowing exactly where they come from and I still adore them. I try not to be flakey, but I'm sure I am sometimes. Who isn't these days, when the lure of killing an hour on Facebook with a homemade mojito in hand is more appealing than having to dig out something trendy to wear and hit the be-seen eateries on Hollywood.

I like driving in L.A. I love the freeways, the way they wind about, the pace of traffic like a stretched-out heartbeat. It's my river. I slid on in from the edge and float across the lanes to find the right current, the one that's going to send me flying across the cities, little neighborhoods smooshed together like a handful of marshmallows in a toddler's sticky hand. In twenty-eight minutes, I've cruised over hills faded brown and green from summer and through several clustered highrise downtowns of puffed-up cities. Every city in L.A. has it's own downtown.

I had one of  those days today. I thought about calling up my best friend that I haven't talked to in a year and tried calling her old number, but she wasn't home. I drove by my father's old house, the house I grew up with, just to see if anything had changed, which it hadn't. I had left a DHL box I'd meant to mail at home and a store I'd wanted to check out was closed. I came home four hours later feeling as if I'd just taken an aimless drive on a Monday afternoon.. oh, wait, that's exactly what I did do.

But at least this was all here. People are so beautiful in L.A. Hell, I don't care if it comes across as shallow, I love beautiful people and to me, they're everywhere here. The most gorgeous latina girl served me up a burrito bol at Chipotle last week and it was all I could do to keep from leaning across the sneezebar, smiling shyly and asking her if she'd take her clothes off for me, her skin was such that perfect creamy porcelain kind. That's the funny thing, though, you can't just get away with being ethnic and beautiful here to stand out. You have to be African and American and you'd better be able to flip between the two in talk, dress, culture and aspirations on the flip of a dime. Flaky, plastic Tinseltown demands nothing less than the most perfect sacrifice for her hellish flames, you know.

Holy bejeebers, am I caffeinated. One XTZ truffle and I'm trippin'.

Things are good. As in really good. You know, the kind of good where you wonder when the other shoe will drop. (Never understood that euphemism.) Oh, well. When it comes, it'll come, right? Right.

Our garden is doing good. Amazingly cool, since the spouse-unit waters it in-between the sprinklers coming on, and that's about all we do to it. Gotta love California. My curry leaf plant is coming along great, which is a godsend since I hacked it down about 3 months ago and practically prayed that I didn't kill it in doing so. Those suckers don't come easy here, and they're just critical in making good South Indian curries! The eggplant is thriving the most by far, and the herbs in general come in a close second. We have basil, oregano, marjoram, chives and catnip. :-)

I've been screaming along with my CSS stuff lately. It's soooo much fun. I've been working on whipping up a bunch of free templates just for the fun of it. You know, in between that work stuff and all.

*singing* Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it's back to work I go... :-)

Gaah, I just woke up about ten minutes ago. I had this bizarre dream about my ex. We were taking some standardized test somewhere, SAT-style, and he was there and we started talking before the test, which was strange in itself. I guess I always assumed that if we ran into each other on the street (which we wouldn't since he lives in a different state), we would more or less ignore the other. We talked about our lives tentatively and awkwardly, and somehow came back to the idea that we really missed each other and our current lives just weren't working out like we'd hoped.

Little Children: A Novel

Tom Perrotta

I'm almost sure that this dream was in some part inspired by Tom Perrotta's Little Children, which I just read last weekend, while in AZ. Really, truly good book about parents with kids and a rather random affair in the middle. The dream plotline matches the book's plotline almost identically and it's so funny when that happens. :-)

I didn't really feel like working out today. The day got off to a wrong start when my mother called shortly after I woke up, asking if I was still meeting her and my sister at temple. Doh. I took a shower, woke the spouse-unit and we raced off to the temple in Malibu. They had just gotten lunch for us, so I ended up eating a lovely filling vegetarian Indian lunch: oodles of carbs and a few greasy chickpeas for protein. Yay. That threw off my day hunger-wise, and I ended up having a few sour plums on the way home, and a fresh strawberry protein shake when I did get home. We took a nap because we were still tired for some reason and on waking, I realized I should try this whole working out at night thing.

Somehow, it occurred to me that I could do some cardio on the rowing machine and watch Grey's Anatomy at the same time. I setup a small stool where my iPod and speakers usually are and setup my MacBook there instead. The episodes on DVD run about 46 minutes, so I stretched through the intro and the opening credits, rowed for about 25 minutes at varying intensity, hula hooped for 5 minutes and then stretched until the closing credits. Woohoo! My heart rate monitor counts calories, so I burned somewhere in the range of 150 calories. Nice. Not nearly a full workout for me, but good enough for a whiny I-don't-wanna-workout kinda day. :o)

Dredged up from an old QOTD:
Do you have a collection of anything?

Raja-Yoga

Yarn. The spouse-unit will withhold my sake if I don't admit to that one. Other knitters will agree that a stash is perpetually "in-use" and therefore not a static collection. The spouse-unit claims that to be denial, deception or both.

Books. Mostly religious-, animal- or craft-oriented.

I think that's it. I'm not really into collecting things. For years, I moved around so much, it was idiotic to keep anything frivolous around. I generally like the idea of having a few handy essentials and that's about it. A good example of this is how it's just impossible for me to carry a purse. I wear my Blackberry in a holster, my keys on an Indian-style keychain that sits on my belt, a small wallet in my back pocket, lip balm in a front pocket, and sunglasses on my head. That's it. If I was going to be kidnapped by friends for some wild adventure, that's about all I need. :o)

It's 3am, and I'm starting to think I should go to bed. Bizarre.

On average, I wake up around 11am. Take a shower, change into jeans and a t-shirt. Sometimes sweats if I'm not leaving the house. Take the dog out, have some granola and sit at my computer. Read the news on BBC, check mail and get down  to work eventually.

It's been good to really dig into work lately. (I build websites, mostly in Ruby and fairly advanced CSS). I have my desktop super-clean and I run what I consider the holy trinity: TextMate for coding, Transmit for file transfers, and Firefox. Adium for chat with clients. I'm so stingy with my memory usage that I only launch Mail periodically throughout the day.  I have headphones plugged in while I listen to iTunes to drown out the distracting house noises, like the spouse-unit moving around, or the dog snoring. I close the iTunes window and use CoverSutra to control everything with the keyboard, and keep an Apple remote next to my Mighty Mouse to control volume. I use Anti-RSI to remember to take breaks every 50 minutes (if I'm a good girl) and Alarm Clock to countdown tasks. It's a lot harder to space out when you have a timer ominously ticking down the seconds.

Yes, I've been caffeinated. I've finally accepted that it goes with the territory. I have a pack of XTZ truffles, little caffeinated chocolates. They don't taste all that bad, actually, and I can throw one in with my afternoon hemp protein shake and sip it down over the course of an hour. It's pretty neat. I'd abstain, but I would be stupid to deny just how clearly focused I am on the stuff. I only start to wind down around now.

One more week. One more week of crazy sleeping hours, endless typing, rocking out to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs as I bounce around in my Aeron chair, thinking in the back of my mind of how much I love my code and building things with it. *sigh* Just one more week, I promise. Then I'll get on with the rest of my life.

Sometimes, I really hate you. These moments when we're fighting. Or rather, should I say, when I let down the daily wall that keeps me feeling secure and normal and realize all my hopes for unabashed  love and romance are completely ignored by you.

But back to the initial statement. Sometimes, I really hate myself. For getting married. No, correction: for telling you that if we were going to fight like this, that we might as well be married. I was upset, and god knows, and you know, just exactly how irrational I can be when I'm upset. I must have been really, really upset.

Maybe that's the first moment that I regret in my life. More or less proposing to you. Because you're not the person to take initiative in anything personal in life. And I'm resigned to the fact that we will move onto being dust before you would take any step towards showing emotional  initiative in this relationship. I don't doubt that you love me in some way. But no, you will never be the guy that secretly gets my wedding dress altered for our super-secret second wedding you planned behind my back to renew our vows before our family and friends, since we never got the chance to do that the first time. You will never be that kind of man that plans a surprise party for our anniversary (or for my birthday when I ask for it). Or -- let me drop the bar here a little -- the type that pulls out a handwritten speech to quietly and romantically read to me over dinner.

Hell. You don't even read the books I've gotten you on how to be romantic. Step-by-step instructions for getting those soft eyes and kittenish looks. Just in case you were stuck for ideas.

No, in all honesty, I have to consider myself grateful if you return my childishly matter-of-fact statements of love with anything at all. Has it even occurred to you why I say that, or all the other silly ways I say "I love you"? It's because you never tell me you love me seriously. You joke about it, insinuate it, say it as the punch line in the script, but you never take me aside, sit me down, look me squarely in the face and explain to me in all seriousness why you want to spend the rest of your life with me and only me.  So, it becomes something silly to say, like my childish babble to the cat, something that can be said with little emotional attachment to the response, if any.

How zen, really.

I'm sure this will blow over. We'll go to bed tonight, together but separate. I'll get up before you and leave to run errands. You'll be up by the time I get back and our life will carry on with just this brief, uncomfortable linger, not unlike a bad case of hiccups.

If we're lucky and work particularly hard at this relationship, we might not still be here in seven years. Because, in the end, that's all it comes down to: luck that we're not dysfunctional and, since we all are in some way, the determination to work through it anyway. 

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I have some family members that are evangelical Christians. They honestly believe that I (and the rest of my non-Christian family) are going to hell. They claim to be respectful, but some of them tend to poke and prod a little at time. When I'm on vacation in their country, they ask if I would like to go to church with them, when I've mentioned going to a fantastic local temple. They bring their pastor along to our island family reunions and turn our family evening bonfire into bible camp, complete with biblical storytelling and sing-a-longs. One of them gave my sister a gift for showing him and his family around Los Angeles, on a recent trip here. It was an evangelical conversion book.

I know why they do it. Their tenets of belief tell them that we, non-believers, are indeed going to hell. And they are worried for us. I tried to explain to my genuinely upset sister at the time, that they did it out of love. As clueless and hideously rude and unenlightened as it was, they thought they were doing the best thing for her immortal soul. This doesn't excuse them; it's just an explanation of their mis-guided actions.

I resent Christianity. All religions have their flaws, and their own cases of unspeakable horrors. But I have personal experience with Christians from all walks of life and I am duly unimpressed. I've read most of the Bible, some of the Koran, a generous handful of Hindu literature, and various other books on the topic of religion.  Overall, I think Jesus himself was great and our world would be a much better place if people took his advice. But honest to God, I think Christians are the people most unlike Jesus I have ever had the misfortune to meet.

I've met Christians that have turned away orphan babies. Christian evangelicals that have lied, stolen, and abused drugs and alcohol, often while simultaneously preaching at me. Christians that have shunned Christians and others based on their appearance, rather than what was in their heart. Prideful Christians that have humiliated other Christians for not being "in Christ" enough outwardly. Shall I broaden this a little to Christians in the world at large? [1] [2] [3] [4]

So, to all those Christians out there: if you introduce yourself to me as a Christian, be prepared for me to avert my childrens' eyes, to say a silent prayer for you and those you encounter, for me to have to strengthen myself to judge your character and virtue as an individual and not as the unhuman, un-Christ-like monster that the average Christian is today.

"Many will say to Me on that day, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in Your name, and in Your name cast out demons, and in Your name perform many miracles?' And then I will declare to them, 'I never knew you; DEPART FROM ME, YOU WHO PRACTICE LAWLESSNESS.'" (Matthew 7:22-23) 

"O father, O mother, O wife, O brother, O friend, I have lived with you after appearances hitherto. Henceforward I am the truth's. Be it known unto you that henceforward I obey no law less than the eternal law. I will have no covenants but proximities. I shall endeavour to nourish my parents, to support my family, to be the chaste husband of one wife, — but these relations I must fill after a new and unprecedented way. I appeal from your customs. I must be myself. I cannot break myself any longer for you, or you. If you can love me for what I am, we shall be the happier. If you cannot, I will still seek to deserve that you should. I will not hide my tastes or aversions. I will so trust that what is deep is holy, that I will do strongly before the sun and moon whatever inly rejoices me, and the heart appoints. If you are noble, I will love you; if you are not, I will not hurt you and myself by hypocritical attentions. If you are true, but not in the same truth with me, cleave to your companions; I will seek my own. I do this not selfishly, but humbly and truly. It is alike your interest, and mine, and all men's, however long we have dwelt in lies, to live in truth. Does this sound harsh to-day? You will soon love what is dictated by your nature as well as mine, and, if we follow the truth, it will bring us out safe at last." - Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance

I've lost a lot of friends in the past couple of years. It's been rough and it still hurts something, but I know it was the right thing to do. Many of them were old friends, ones I had grown up with, shared childhood secrets with and more. All of them were close enough that I considered them family and loved them as brothers or sisters. And I split ways with every one of them because I felt that there was no longer any common ground between us and lack of respect or patience for our differences.

There are some things that I do in my adult life that some of my family and friends have a hard time accepting, for some odd reason. I feed my dog raw, homemade food. I feed the cats raw fish and chicken when they're interested. I try to donate my time and money to local animal-related causes whenever possible. I try to avoid mainly seafood and often other products of Canada because I'm vehemently against their annual seal hunt. I can't help but look critically at convenience foods in individually wrapped packages and think of how long that plastic will take to breakdown and if any of my future progeny will be alive when it finally does. This is who I am.  

I don't push my ideals on others. It would be rude and condescending to do so. If someone asks me about something, I'll try to answer as simply and concisely as possible. If they ask more, I'll explain what I know about the subject, pros and cons, to the depth of my own research. Beyond that, people make their own choices, just as I make mine. I might personally disapprove of people who litter, but the best I can ever do is to lead by example.

That said, I've come to a fresh new starting point in my life. I know the kind of person I am, and I finally know the kind of friends I want to have close in my life. A few old friends have stuck around, thankfully, and as we talk more on values, hope and dreams, I'm overjoyed to be able to share and be genuine, without having to edit my conversations or fall uncomfortably silent. This is exactly the kind of friendships I would like to continue to build and maintain throughout my life.

I'm curious to know -