Easy lessons.

What I did all weekend:

Well...more or less. Hee.

Step 1: Party
Step 2: Eat
Step 3: Sleep
Step 4: Repeat.

What I learned-
-The entymology of 'minger'
-That dogs will check to see if you're dead when you've been lying prone on the floor for more than 20 minutes
-Kids will do anything to win at Guitar Hero
-Eating and not exercising will make you fat.

Bucket listing.

Today I was going to write about my wack ass dream that involved being about to marry a seriously older butch lesbian then backing out at the last minute and running away 'Graduate' style to make movies with Kevin Smith and ended with Dee-lite singing the end credits to my new life as an indie movie queen ("Groove is in the Heart")-then I read John Mayer's blog. (and also decided to stop eating so much Mexican food)

Bravo sir.

FROM THE HEART....
I need to write this.
I've been traveling alone in Japan for the better part of three weeks now, and It's been so remarkable an experience for me that I can't book a ticket home yet. I haven't spoken very much out loud these days, but I've been thinking to myself in what feels like surround sound.
I can see so many things clearly, and feel so connected to myself and the world around me that I need to share the perspective with you.I'm already aware that when I sing, say or write anything, 50 percent of the response will be in support of it and the other 50 will want to discount it. This blog, though, is directed to 100 percent of people reading it. If my blog truly does have any cultural effect, then it should be used for more than just pictures of sneakers and funny youtube videos. (If you don't think my blog has any effect, than you can't by definition be reading this right now and therefore don't have to respond to it in any way. Isn't that tidy?)
What I'm about to write isn't about fame or success or celebrity or the media. That's my business.

This is about us all.

This is about a level of self consciousness so high in my generation, that it's actually toxic. This is about the girl in her bedroom who poses in front of the camera she's awkwardly holding in her outstretched hand. She'll take a hundred photos until coming up with one she's happy with, which inevitably looks nothing like her, and after she's done poring over images of herself, will post one on her myspace page and then write something like " I don't give a f*ck what you think about me."

This is about the person trying out for American Idol, who while going off about how confident they are that they were born ready to sing in front of the world, are trembling so badly they can hardly breathe.

This is about me, the guy who walks through a throng of photographers into a restaurant like he's Paul Newman, but who leaves a "reject" pile of clothes in his closet so high that his cleaning lady can't figure out how one man can step into so many pairs of pants in a week.

This is about a young guy who maintains a celebrity blog that subsists on tearing other people down but who has wrestled with a lifelong battle for acceptance as a gay man.

This is about us all. Every one of us. Who all seem to know deep down that it's incredibly hard to be alive and interact with the world around us but will try and cover it up at any cost. For as badass and unaffected as we try to come off, we're all just one sentence away from being brought to the edge of tears, if only it was worded right. And I don't want to act immune to that anymore. I took the biggest detour from myself over the past year, since I decided that I wasn't going to care about what people thought about me. I got to the point where I had so much padding on that, sure, I couldn't feel the negativity, but that's because I couldn't feel much of anything. And I think I'm done with that. I'm not the first person to admit we're all self conscious, Kanye was.

But what I want to do is to shed a little light on why we're all in the same boat, no matter the shape of the life we lead: because every one of us were told since birth that we were special. We were spoken to by name through a television. We were promised we could be anything that we wanted to be, if only we believed it and then, faster than we saw coming, we were set loose into the world to shake hands with the millions of other people who were told the exact same thing. And really? Really? It turns out we're just not all that special, when you break it down. Beautifully unspectacular, actually. And that truth is going to catch up with us whether we want to run from it or not. The paparazzo following me to the gym ain't gonna be Herb Ritts and the guy he's following ain't gonna be Bob Dylan. It's just a matter of how old you are once you embrace that fact. And for me, 30 sounds about right. What now, then? I can only really say for myself:
Enjoy who I am, the talents and the liabilities. Stop acting careless. In fact, care more.
Be vulnerable but stay away from where it hurts. Read. See more shows. Of any kind. Rock shows, art shows, boat shows. Create more art. Wear hoodies to dinner. Carry a notebook and hand it to people when they passionately recommend something and ask them to write it down for me.

Root for others.

Give more and expect the same in return, but over time.

Act nervous when I'm nervous, puzzled when I don't know what the hell to do, and smile when it all goes my way. And never in any other order than that.

And when it's all over, whether at the end of this fabulous career or of this life, which I hope takes place at the same time, I should look back and say that I had it good and I made the most of it while I was able. And so should you.

I'm going quiet now.

John

Currently obcessed with: Esthero (a little Pink / a little Duffy-a whole lotta good)

postscript

PS. Apologies to the Virgos. Look, my best friend is a Virgo. We get along splendidly-but only because she's gotten over that craptacular trait of over-analysis. She lives her life the way she wants to live it and has given up adhering to any set of rules or self-regulated systems OR judging others. I have other really good, beautiful friends who are Virgos. But there are ALSO several people who just ANNOY, irritate and piss me off to no end-and they all happen to be Virgoan, anal retentive, over analytical, hyper-sensitive, yet incredibly rude and insensitive to others. THEY all call their actions, "honesty"-I call it "a fucked up justification to be mean."

This is the way I pick a shirt:
Q: Which shirt do you like better? Blue or red?
A: Blue.
Q: Why?
A: I like blue.

The way Virgos pick a shirt:
Q: Which shirt do you like better? Blue or red?
A: Well...ok, see I have a pair of khakis that would go good with red, but usually I only wear blue. I mean, what KIND of blue? Navy? Teal? And I mean, is the red a blue-red or an orange-red? There are so many things that go well with blue-and like-the other day I saw this blue shirt at Banana Republic and it was SUCH the wrong shade of blue. I mean like a weird grey-blue? And it was this funny fabric. Oh speaking of, what are these shirts made out of? Silk? Linen? I mean, I already have 5 blue shirts, but if this one is a cool cut-like a v-neck? Oh, is it a name brand? Cause I have a Gap shirt-it's from two seasons ago, but it's still in style, cause I mostly buy classics. It's cute right? I'd love a Prada shirt though. But not from the Resort collection, from the main Fall collection-and only in blue or black. Or Gucci maybe, to go with my capris. Where am I going to wear this shirt to?
Q: BLUE OR RED?!?!

PPS. I know 'syncopation' has an 'N' in it. Spelling errors corrected.

Aweso-

So I'm going to have to redact part of what I wrote yesterday. Mainly cause, well-you guys have been subject to me jumping the gun, yet again. I'm fine-but in trying to prepare myself for the worst, I've also been trying to assume the worst. About a fantastic, fascinating, caring, sexy person. I dunno why I have this fatalistic quality to my inner life. All or nothing. I'll say it real loud:

S-O-R-R-Y! (mostly to Squirrelmonk)

Especially the bad poetry. I mean, rhyming couplets?! WTF.

But I'll tell you what I've learned. One of the friends I've added to my life in the last year has been my mutual accompanist (that's her self-appointed title), Coty. She's a truly amazing person as well as musician. First of all, Coty is a kick-ass opera Allstar. She has exquisite control over her angelic voice and sings with so much artistic integrity that she's made me cry on more than a few occasions. She also coaches privately, works full time at a school during the day and flies cross country to audition for opera companies. Coty is the definition of an incredible person. (oh yeah, she hires me for performances too-and would pay me if I didn't refuse)

During our coaching session on Monday, Coty started recounting some things that had made her upset during the past week. Namely, some jerks backing out on her on an upcoming performance that she's producing. And she had to deal with all the repercussions, including false accusations and doubt. But here, was her blessed, blessed response.

"Whatever. I mean, I'm awesome!"

And I was shocked, not by the simple fact-'cause Coty is pretty frickin' awesome-but by her own self admission. I believed her. And not only that, didn't judge her as arrogant or delusional. It was a really authentic self-analysis. In that moment, Coty joined my hero list. Here is this woman, who respects others, strives for excellence in herself and her students, teaches, performs and heads up a blossoming East Bay arts club. And she reminded me, that if she believes in herself, I can too. So that's where I stand.

Undefined by my culture, ethnicity, gender or my relationships.

Centered by my inner self.

That little happy Glinda bubble of awesoME.

Cause face it, without ME it's just aweso-.

"Sex without love has its place, and it's pretty cool, but when you have it hand in hand with deep commitment and respect and caring, it's nine thousand times better."

George Carlin's 27 Things I've Learned - from January 2002

The Sixth Sign

he wrote a song today

and it wasn't about me or us.

it was for her.

and it makes me sad. to again be playing the third wheel. and it makes me mad. because i didn't chose this. it appeared and i went with it. i was so happy before god, really happy and content. why throw me this curve ball now? karma for all the guys i didn't date? fuckyou. she's hurting and in pain, i know. but i didn't chose things to happen to her or to him. fortunately i can chose things to happen to me.

maybe it's better to say goodbye now.

than to always be second most important.

i'm not asking for a resolution
cause I can make my own solutions
i'm not a victim of circumstance

but i asked you for your patience,
your truth and mere existence
would have given you the same

she's more than just your friend
can scarcely begin
to explain the sycopation t'ween the two

it's the path of least resistance
can't fight time or all your distance
call me coward if you may

so this might be farewell
it'll be your tale to tell
of the precious gift i gave that got away.

tell me this. why is always the Virgos?

How FB has infiltrated my idea of reality.

JASON ROBERT BROWN

STARTED

a game of Scramble with me. My life is fucking complete.

...he's leading of course.

Be and just breathe.

via Gala Darling, Nubby Twiglet’s post on
It’s Not About Them, It’s About You: How To Keep A Positive Perspective in Your Life

Amazing really. Sometimes all it takes is one person to tell you that everything you’re doing in life is OK. That for one moment; the only person you ever have to listen to is yourself.

Tying that into what I’m listening to right now. The best new musical Tony winner, ‘In the Heights’.

Now, my knowledge of Spanish is elementary at best, but I don’t need any of that to understand that Lin-Manuel Miranda’s musical has a new form and function for the Broadway musical and best of all-heart. So many of the new musicals coming out are snarky and ironic at best. They take an already existing art form and either mock it or try to write a loosely contrived script around the songs of one particular artist. (‘Jersey Boys’ is probably a rare exception, but only because the story doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with the songs, so the songs become a background soundtrack)
When it started, ‘In the Heights’ was seen as too hip-hop, too ethnically and location specific, but the critics forgot one thing. Stories about people are universal. Whether you’re from Sarajevo or Maui or Pakistan, you can relate to people trying to live poor and having dreams bigger than they think they’re entitled to.
This is one of those amazing shows and dreams come true that shows that being yourself is practically perfect…in every way.

Oh and by the way? The music rocks.

“They are all counting on me to succeed
I am the one who made it out
The one who always made the grade
But maybe I should've just stayed home...
When I was a child I stayed wide awake, climbed to the highest place,
on every fire escape, restless to climb” - Breathe

Where is my child? The one who yearned for adventure; who cared less if people followed her than if she was free. Who climbed to the top of the rocks-more interested in the climb than the view from the top. The woman I was just a scant two months ago. Who went to bed easy-not restless and scared. Who delighted in freedom. Who didn’t care.

Am I being what I’m not,
So hell bent on being what she’s not?
Are we aren’t
To be who we wish we could be?
Holding back,
To hold onto what we see
As an answer
To our loneliness

Everytime I don’t pick up my phone
When I want to hear your voice
It’s cause I want you in the end.
But if the only person in the end
Is who I am
Who am I to deny what and who is?

Borrowing a friend
Who should be a lover
Is hard to do
When there’s understanding in the way.
I’m falling fast and wondering if I should.

The people's court?

(Whoot! Last post was post 88! Also this post was originally written on Thursday)

This morning, I sat up, stretched-looked at my clock, smiled at the blinking face and lay my head back down. Travelling further into a state of lucidity. About an hour later, I sat straight up and ran into the shower-barely making it out the door with breakfast and my head on straight...

to jury duty.

Oh yes people, even Z-list bloggers have to go to jury duty. They are not exempt from such mundane duties. ha. No, to be perfectly honest, I was reaping the ramifications of having skipped out on doing it during tech week of ST. See, I had postponed jury duty the first time, back in January, and then didn't realize that ST would be remounted. So I figured, well-there are plenty of people who don't go to jury duty. I'll just be one of those people.

Not so much. I got a slap on the wrist and a 'failure to appear' notice in the mail.

The first thing I noticed upon getting to the courthouse this morning was that, even though I was right on time, there was no line. And on top of it-only about 80 people in the room. Every time I've done jury duty-it's been practically standing room only. Oh, and the three people ahead of me that checked in-also had 'failure to appear' notices.

Apparently, I was doing jury duty with all my fellow 'naughty kids'.

This cracks me up to no end. I've never been the girl who instigates anything; I'm much more of an observer and follower (to a degree)-but somehow, I'm always grouped in with the bad kids. The vamps, not the Scoobies. The darks not the lights. The drapes, not the squares. You know, the ones that smoke in the bathroom, get tattoos and wear tight black pants. Yeah.

After sitting around for a couple of hours, we were called up to the courtroom-where more hilarity ensued. For example, I got called to be Juror #2. ha. Actually, it was quite a painless experience (other than having to sit in a courtroom for several hours). There are a ton of people who have much worst lives or are better at exaggerating than I am. Funny:

-Watching the video of people who were totally serious about the fact that "Jury duty is a great experience" and "A lot of jurors stay in touch after their service." It was really hard not to laugh outright at the video. So I didn't hold back. Just once, I wish that people would be honest and lay it on the table, "Look, we know you don't want to be here. Let's not try to make a bad problem worse. If you just go with it, we'll get you out of here as soon as possible."

-This is not funny, but just weird. And I didn't report it, but the woman sitting next to me in the courtroom didn't raise her hand or repeat the juror oath. I'm not sure if that counts for anything, and I wasn't going to be the snitch-but damn.

-A ton of tech problems. From the interpreter not being able to hear jurors to the headphones for the deaf guy not working. This just compounded some of the time issues.

-The court reporter having the loudest stomach gurgle ever after coming back from the lunch break. It was seriously resonant. So much so that the judge peered at him suspiciously and EVERYONE cracked up.

-The almost deaf 70 year old Filipino day worker. He was a comedy routine in itself.
Attorney #1: Sir, how do you feel about the police?
Deaf guy: I don't understand. Can you explain?
AT1: Well, do you like the police? Do you not like the police?
Deaf guy: Yes. Courtroom sniggers
AT1: Which one is it sir?
Deaf guy: I don't know.
Courtroom: (in unison) ahahaahah!!!

Attorney #1: At this time, we'd like to dismiss juror Deaf Guy.
Deaf guy: Oh, thank you.
Judge: Thank you Mr. Deaf Guy. You're free to go.
Deaf guy: Yes, yes (waves hands around, walking away) thank you.
Judge: Thank you sir. Please check out downstairs.
Deaf guy: Yes. I'm free! (waves hands) Courtroom laughs in unison again.
Judge: Did he return the headphones?

-Both attorneys, a bailiff, and another juror trying to explain the process of burden of proof to this other juror. At the last minute the judge had to step in and clarify. Yay, free civics lesson.

-The district attorney asking some SUPER leading questions. Especially to this one guy on the panel who had full tattoo arm sleeves.
DA: So sir...did you do the art for your tattoos?
Artist guy: Uh (ahah) no.
DA: I see. And do they have any "special" meaning? Artist guy: Well, they have personal meaning.

At this point, I should have just stood up and gone, "Yo man, you in a gang? Ever been in a gang? Ever popped a cap in some bizzitch's ass?" SERIOUSLY.

As much as I'm complaining about the whole experience, it could have been a lot worse. First of all, on a blazing hot day in the city, I got to be in the nice air-conditioned federal building. Everyone there seemed very business-like; getting us through the process as easily as possible with the least amount of resistance. At lunch, I went over to Saigon Sandwiches (which is on LARKIN, not-as retarded me though-LEAVENWORTH) and grabbed me a $3 chicken sammy and drink. The most irritating part of the day was Juror #3-who decided that he was going to play his arrogant, "I'm a paralegal" card and start questioning the DA. At one point he tried to make a rhetorical point about one of her statements. I rolled my eyes about 12 times at this guy-which was basically every time he opened his mouth. Ugh, what is it about over-educated people who have to prove that they're smart or their lives are over? Bleargh.

After all that, and several somewhat intrusive questions later, I was excused. YAY! Freedom and a day off from work and a Saigon sandwich. Tell me people, what's not to like? Well, except our seasonally uncharacteristic weather. It's HOT AS FUCK in San Francisco. What in Satan's nutsack is going on with this heat? Geez!

Free at last!

So I just "discovered" a new site, "The Plug" (via a Cup of Jo) Sort of like an online hipster 'zine. Not as sarcastic as 'the Onion' but doesn't take itself as seriously as 'Nylon'. It's funny has ell. The best bit I've read so far is from #29 Certificate of Awesome-ticity-where the author went around passing out certificates to people for being the best at mundane activities-like pumping gas or smoking.

Oh, and I have a bunch of frozen spinach in the fridge. What should I make?
-Spanokopita
-Pasta shells with spinach
-Spinach dip
-Spinach garlic cheese side dish thingie
-Bleargh...frozen spinach? What is wrong with you?



Bai Ling has a blog. And an opinion. And the spelling skills of Claudia Kishi. And the syntax of a Sanrio pencil box. I believe in free speech and free power of the media and all that-but maybe we could make an exception in this case?

"This is the reason I don't watch movies or TV, they always make me don't want to see or go to the tharter again, it shadows my dream. Set meant to have magic, when that is gone, the spirit is gone, but you need spirit to breath and laugh...... Don't ever loss that" (this is quoted verbatim-in case you were wondering)


I HELLA FUCKING WANT: the Blurb's Blogbook/Digital Photobook
Now turn the pages of your blog into a hardbound, physical, like with paper pages and all-book! It's really inexpensive and looks easy to put together, especially with existing blog pages inserted and your own photos used. Fun fun fun!

Currently obsessed with: sucking my stomach in, Audra McDonald covers, writing more interesting entries.

Tomorrow: my stint in the civil duty service. whee.

Somedays, it's like this.

Well...consider it mission accomplished.

It only took 29 years.

But I am pretty.

That is what the 8 year old from Medford, Illinois wearing the blue-green floral smocked sundress told me in the bathroom of 'Marie Callendar's' tonight when she walked in to talk. (and use the potty presumably)

She also wanted to know where I was from.

I told her 'San Francisco' and she looked, initially, gobsmacked but then sort of satisfied with my answer. As if she had done the whole, "Oh I GET IT! She's AMERICAN!" epiphany in the span of 3 milliseconds. She informed me that she was on a visit from Illinois and was going into San Francisco tomorrow for a visit. And she was taking Bart. UNDER THE BAY. (V. important)

Projecting; it might have been her first encounter with an Asian person, ever. And she wanted to see if she could handle it.

Well, my dear, whomever you are, you did splendidly. Welcome to the Bay.

Just don't do it.

Social networking used to be the playground of the gregarious and popular. The prettier, funnier, richer or more connected you were; the better your social standing. In caveman days, your social worth and therefore, your effectiveness as a social networker was based upon your strength, stamina, imperviousness to common bacteria/viruses and hunting skills. Social stability/popularity has always been based upon your viability as a procreation partner. Think about it, most of the time, popularity is just a factor of whether or not someone wants to sleep with you.

Crude, but true.

The internet seems to be changing all of that. These days, anyone can be popular on Facebook or MySpace. Even though, the pretty/rich/funny standards still hold up-you can also be popular for having the most collective knowledge of Class-C starships in the Roddenberry universe, playing the meanest game of Scramble or giving the cutest gifts. You can also make yourself quite unpopular. I speak of course, of the Friends for Sale Application.

I hate this app with a passion. The idea is that you buy and sell your friends, with some of them going for very high bidding prices. You make more money by selling friends. I've had tons of people tell me that they love this application. That it takes up tons of their time and is lovely and distracting. I've gotten condescending comments and little digs from people who get a lot of amusement from this application. But the thing is, I've never had a problem with OTHER people using the application. It's the fact that the one snag that Facebook has neglected to correct or alter on the application is that you can be forced to participate against your will. That is; people can buy you, sell you or make you their pet against your knowledge or willing participation. For awhile, two or three of these notices would show up in my inbox-"So and so has made you THEIR PET!" And your base worth on FFS is contingent upon how many times you are bought for higher and higher prices by other people.

Now, let me tell you the gut reaction I had to being bought by people on Facebook, especially people who I didn't know or people that I have adverse reactions to in the real world, was horror and disgust. Being 'owned' even in an electronic sense is akin to being their plaything. Something I'm not really interested in. Whomever buys you can give you a new (sometimes derogatory or negative) nickname. Personally, the lack of freedom bothers me the most about this application. Every day, people are being bought and sold on Facebook-without their consent. Even AFTER they have removed the application. I have tried, unsuccesfully, to get people not to purchase me; to the point of writing incendiary notes on their walls.

Maybe I should just take it easy, you think.
But there is nothing more in this world that makes me more upset than lack of choice.
The feeling of being helpless.
The feeling of being dominated.
No free-will.
Without which,
I am no longer a human being.

My friendship comes easy.
But you will never own me.

Damn it feels good to be a gangster.

So: I'm watching the Tony Awards. Whoa...Patti LuPone as Mama Rose. Damn. Don't know if I like this better or her Mrs. Lovett. But damn. (Why does Mandy Patinkin look like the Unabomber?)

Today was one of those days where I didn't think it could be any better to be me. As egotistical as that sounds-maybe we're ALL allowed one of those days. But at the risk of getting ahead of myself, today was a very good day.

(ok, Lin-Manuel just made me cry. Forreal. So happy for 'In the Heights'-that was the best acceptance speech ever.)


Because today, I got to do one of my favorite things in the world. Ever.
I got to go into the recording studio and lay down vocal tracks for 'Never Wanted This' (ie. the emo song) and 'Not As Old As You' with some of the best musicians I have ever played with. At a gorgeous house studio in Pacific Heights. Sound, reverb, mastering, perfect. It's so rare that something comes to fruition from a simple idea like a murder musical in a coffee shop to a full fledged cast album that people have been asking for. (including the reviewer from the Chronicle)

People have been asking to hear us! That's so huge. And I'm so grateful.
Thank you Mr. Wilson, for trusting me, sheltered, skeptical, sometimes pessimistic me.
Thank you Kahn for consummate musical leadership.
Thank you Malfoy for starting us on our way.
Thank you Dee, Reichtsiger, LaFavre and SanJose for dedicating your talents to this project.
thank you thank you thank you thank you.
How does it feel to have come so far...and to know that there is still so much to come.
Amazing.
It feels good to be me today.

Recording tomorrow

Oh shit. I really should be in bed right now. Or at least sleeping. We're recording the cast album tomorrow for ST and I can't be tired....I'll try to take pics of us recording at (Wrathof)Kahn's studio....

But here's a question for you bloggers out there-when you meet people for the first time, do you tell them that you have a blog?

How do you drop that into a conversation? DO you drop it into conversation? I've known way too many people who've been burned via their blog. And often times, I don't want people to know that I blog. It somehow seems too intimate. It's fine that the friends that I already have know or for people on the internet, but for new people that I know in real life...well, I'm not quite sure how they're going to react to it.

Just a thought. lates!

Music Meme

ahhh. more flickr meme! sorry for the super disturbing picture up top.
1. What's your favorite song? /2. Favorite genre of music? (Classical, Jazz, Country, Pop...) /3. Favorite musician (add singer/band to end if necessary)? 4. What was the last song you listened to/are currently listening to? /5. What type of music do you dislike? /6. What instrument do you like to listen to the most?7. What instrument do you most like to play (or would like to learn)?/8. Where do you go or what do you listen to when you're sad? /9. What was the last concert or musical event you attended (add singer/band to end if necessary)? 10. What concert or musical event do you wish you could have attended? Or a performer you would have loved to have seen live? 11. You and your sweetie, what's your 'song'? If you aren't paired off, what song do you think it might be? 12. What song gets stuck in your head the most? (For good or for bad...)
1. 23/365 FUTAB - Walking On Broken Glass, 2. ghetto soul together, 3. Aretha Franklin, 4. cut it out, 5. Marilyn Manson -2- (Ben Heine), 6. Guitar, 7. visit me..., 8. Her Art of Sleep, 9. Audra McDonald, 10. Untitled, 11. death cab for cutie:lack of color, 12. Legally Blonde - The Musical

Pemmy and the Katty

Follow up to my recent entry: More evidence that my best friend will kick your best friend's ass any day of the week?

Hey ,

I forgot to give you the Firefly box set. It actually came the day after you came over for dinner last time. Next time we go out remind me. Thanks for dinner. Don't stress ok?-Kat

Frenz4Eva

My best friend told me the funniest story last night in the car.
I can't recount it here, 'cause it's fairly incriminating.
Let's just say it involves processed substances and pooping.
I laughed so hard my gums hurt.
I'm laughing right now thinking about it.

And that's the way life is. In an instant, it can be sunny or foggy or happy or sad. (trite as those last adjectives may be) We had been having this 'very serious' relationship conversation all night and all of a sudden, started talking about all the stuff we did in college. HIGH-larious. And that's what a best friend is. She's the person I can call up in an instant's notice, to talk me through a weird patch in my life. Not rough, just weird. She IS there for me, when I need her. As we were leaving her place to head out to dinner, I told her b-f thanks for letting me borrow her for the night. She poo-pooed both of us and said, "Girl, I've only been going out with him for three years. I've known you for 28."

Then she drove us to Tommy's for really really good chimichangas.

And yet, even though part of my brain wanted serenity, it was actually easier to have a candid conversation in the middle of a rowdy, loud and crowded Mexican joint. Surrounded by a bevy of tech guys and hipsters drinking margaritas at the bar, I could spill, in fairly graphic detail, what was bothering me. And what a blessing it was to have a friend who understands and can put me straight with a few simple words. My best friend has always been a wonder to me. She's never been concerned about image or what she 'should' be doing, only what makes her happy. She likes what she likes and doesn't like what she doesn't like. She sees things just about as clearly as I could ask for.

And make me laugh til I can't breathe. Thanks Kat.

Flickr Meme: 1. What is your first name? /2. What is your favorite food? /3. What high school did you go to? 4. What is your favorite color?/ 5. Who is your celebrity crush? / 6. Favorite drink? 7. Dream vacation? / 8. Favorite dessert? / 9. What you want to be when you grow up? 10. What do you love most in life?/ 11. One Word to describe you./ 12. Your flickr name.
1. Penny-Wise, 2. beef noodle, 3. Lowell High, 4. Teal and Black, 5. http://www.flickr.com/photos/ravenu/75381611/, 6. gin tonic, 7. Portal de l'Àngel, 8. Coconut Mango Sticky Rice, 9. speaking of effigies, 10. inspiration..., 11. Mesmerized., 12. Day 272: The Mighty Pen

the Noodle Factory

Last night after pilates, I stopped by RedHen's newest pet project: The Noodle Factory Performing Arts Center and Artists' Residence
The West Oakland area of the East Bay is currently experiencing a new upsurge in development, mostly due to high housing prices in the City which is starting to force artisans: painters, digital/media artists, dancers and musicians out of high rent areas into more disparaged areas. While West Oakland has long been the site of industry, and in more recent years-a hotbed of low-income families and the problems that can arise from poverty (ie. crime, drugs, poor education)-the Noodle Factory is making strides to correct and adjust the problem. They have proposed an 11-unit PERMENENTLY affordable live-work spaces including a theater and cafe for the community"

"After construction is completed in late Spring of 2008, this mixed-use
artisan and cultural arts facility will house 11 work/live units for working
artists/artisans; a rehearsal studio and a public events space for performance /
music arts totaling 2700 sq. ft.; and a cafe / lobby area. An Advisory
Board drawn from the local performing, visual arts, and artisan community is
advising the project to ensure that the reconstructed arts space starts life as
an integral part of the Bay Area arts community."

Even though the space is not entirely finished yet, it's gorgeous. First of all, the lack of any other taller buildings around means that there's a ton of gorgeous natural light in the (easily) 25' high ceiling space. The theater is tucked in behind the rest of the residences, but it's a lovely space with an upper tech booth, plenty of room for storage and an easily adaptable space. There was a fairly good community turn out as well as the theater community representing. And everyone had an idea of how to make the space work. But it was the residences that had me salivating-totally gorgeous, second story, lofted spaces with high end fixtures and design. Natural woods and white walls make these seem less like cramped, cheap artist's spaces and more like actual homes; spaces that people would want to live in.

RedHen has always been an advocate for the well-being of her artists so why wouldn't she be spearheading one of the newest and freshest communities in the Bay Area. A true Aquarian that one. At the end of the champagne toast, RedHen started asking for ideas about how to get the rest of the Bay Area theater community involved as well getting the neighborhood residents to respond and make the theater part of their lives instead of viewing it as a separate entity. One of the things I threw out there was cross-promotion. Whenever I'm at Octavia Lounge, we always make it a point (especially as filler) to mention the local shows that people we know are in. We let people come up and doing shameful self-promotion, cause

a) Local theater artists should support other local theater. It's a community not a competition

b) Local audiences don't always go to see great theater unless they know about it (ex. 'Tick, Tick, Boom' at Hillbarn was great, but I don't think that many people went to go see it)

As artists who work their asses off constantly to have a show of theirs not seen, is ridiculous. Especially when you consider all the crap that's being shown on television. And of course those programs are subsidized by the numerous commercial ads that run all through the show. I have a friend who's losing his guitarist soon because the music scene in the Bay Area blows; he's moving to LA. And that's sad. An area that is so rich in resources, community, culture and talent-is losing a great musician to the hellhole that is Los Angles because it cannot support itself. Sweetie Tanya had an award winning, multi-disc documentarian playing the hell out of the guitar for us because he hadn't met people in the industry yet. I'm not angry here, I'm passionate. Passionate that more great theater be created and seen and understood as filling the soul. Especially theater that is making amends to a community currently in need. Please support the Noodle Factory!

peace out.

* are you a current partner in the Bay Area Theater scene? book your next show or performance at the Noodle Factory. they'd love to have you!

Aspects of love-not the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical

Via GalaDarling

If you feel awkward next time you go out dancing — like you don’t look good or you don’t dance well enough or you’re not cool enough to be there — take a break. Go to the corner of the room, drink some water, survey the scene & make a decision. Decide to own yourself & what you’re doing. Own your dancing, own your body, take control. Decide that you’re sexy, amazing, cool & glamorous. Decide that you’re a fabulous dancer & that you’re just going to cut loose. Decide that you’re the queen (or king) of the room & that everyone else in there is just your loyal subject, dancing for your entertainment. Imagine you are wearing a crown (or put on a tiara if you feel that way inclined!). Don’t feel the need to dance a certain way — just be you. Claim a place on the dance floor, flick your hair, spin around & keep your head up. You have to own it. As soon as you act like you belong to be there, you’ll start to have much more fun & people’s reactions to you will mirror that back at you. Plus, there’s nothing more appealing than a confident person having fun on the dance floor!

I love this advice for every aspect of life, not just dancing. When you're anywhere, decide that you're going to be amazing. In whatever way you think is appropriate to you.
I've been so caught up, in the last day or so, trying to be an adult.
Rather than just living in the present, I am getting caught up in what I think lies ahead.
The truth is, none of us knows what lies ahead.
I could get run over by an escaped barrel of monkeys tomorrow.
It's all about perspective.
I give myself permission to do what my heart feels is the right thing.
To not keep pushing away that which my soul craves dearly.
To give and receive affection and attraction and love.
From my friends, from my family and from him.
In any form that it is given.

Reflecting on the hallway

I've been wrapped up/Each trace of kiss/Every embrace/
Closer and closer to being
Held
Every car and gaslight and sign of the city
Becomes a refraction/Distractions
In a moment
These lights belong to us
As if we could hold something that intangible
Nailing ice to the wall
But just in that moment
I can touch them.
Before they flow like water to the morn

I'm finding myself falling faster; still with determination to stay true to the last 3 years of blissful solitude. Solitude, I finally find Meister Rilke was right, is key. It's key to knowing self. I cannot nor will I give up the last three years I have spent: building a theater company, originating roles, singing, dancing, living and loving the best that I know I can or have. I know me-the time between doorways has been invaluable. Friends are real-without pretense without motive. The final test, going to weddings by myself and feeling a pure joy for those in love without having it by my side. Truly, people who find themselves on the verge of dancing the edge between independence and being held by a lover are hard pressed. Is it better or worse that not only our passions run quicker than I can keep up with, but I find myself being titillated by his past. By the girl who loved him and loves him still. I have been her. It scares me. Who or what will I throw away, put to the side, when he comes for my nights? Whisper in his ear what I need and he holds me fast, repeats:

"Stop thinking ahead."

breathe. just breathe.

"It is good to be solitary, for solitude is difficult. That something is difficult must be one more reason for us to do it. It is also good to love: because love is difficult." (Rainer Maria Rilke)

Lazzzyyyy

Yay! My Threadless stuff is coming! (so sue me, it's Sunday and I'm basically sitting upstairs watching the jook for Mr. Jones while he does yardwork, I say it's a fair trade) I'm super psyched that I got 4 shirts on sale! Three of which will probably be given away as gifts-but hey, who's counting right? I finally got my hands on two of the cutest designs, both by designer Jean-Sebastian Deheeger:










nauseatingly adorable aren't they? I know they're cutesy as all heck-but gimme a break! When do I get to wear these shirts ever again? We should always wear things that make us smile - whether they're beribboned, comfy or our favorite color; wearing something that makes you feel good will only make your day better and brighter.

I'm going to the tactile dome tonight for Mindola's b-day party, so hopefully I'll have some good photos from the party-but til then, I present to you my guy friends in all their cutesy glory

Yo B - slap me some skin!

Seriously? SERIOUSLY NBC?!? This is news now? We gotta explain this to the rest of the country?

It's not like Flava Flav was up there screaming, "Yeahhhhhh BOOOIIII!!"

But that would have been awesome too.

Michelle Obama is really pretty. Good thing Condi's been keeping her seat warm.

Shortie

Quickie post for today: just because I'm tired and don't feel like writing, so I thought I'd include a nice photo for mmmK.

This pic is from dinner with the Chinese Mafia ie. my parents' current coffee klatch that comes and invades our house about twice a month. The food is pretty good tho'.

(l-r) bottom l: roast duck, raw sturgeon salad, tofu with greens, drunken chicken, wintermelon steamed w/ pork, more greens, fungi with beef (snow ear), drunken chicken. center-fungi with BACON!

We also had this amazing homemade cha siu sohw that Mr. Jones made with Trader Joe's puff pastry and cha siu from Irving. It was really really good-buttery. This is the unfortunate reason I cannot diet, EVER, at my house.

When I have a brand new hairdo...

So last Friday, I went to see 'Sex and the City' with the girls. (cause who else in their right mind would I go to see that with? Nim?) , but I had to face a couple of trials to do so. Let me preface this with...

During her concert on Sunday, the amazing and talented Audra McDonald introduced me to the idea of 'quick karma'-where your guardian angel is so on top of their job-the second you start getting cocky or ahead of yourself; he or she knocks you right on your head to let you know they're watching. Like Ms. McDonald, I too have quick karma. The second I start to think that, I'm, you know...not so bad, my guardian angel will make me fall over a curb or something. It's that fast people. (I'll talk more about the fabulous concert later on this week)

So, in case anyone is wondering, I didn't play hooky from work. I did ask to leave early citing the fact that I had an 'appointment'. Quite honestly, I wasn't doing very much last week anyway and I didn't take any pay for the two hours I missed. So I feel like it was a fair trade. They didn't have to pay me for work that I wasn't going to do. Forreals. But 'quick karma' is quite a snarky bastard and I got stuck at my station for 30 minutes...

Because the Bart police were chasing some criminal through the Lafayette tunnel and they had to turn the power off on the grid or they would all get electrocuted.

I couldn't make this shit up if I tried people. So instead of being 30-40 min. early like I planned, I was instead, roughly 10 minutes late. Quick karma at work. Thankfully, I found the girls right around the 3rd or 4th trailer, so no call no foul. Now, let's talk about SATC. When the series was out, I didn't have access to HBO and the reruns on TNT leave out some of the more explicit material. So by the time I actually started watching episodes, they seemed to be pale replicas of the original intent of the series-which was to put to the forefront, the successful, smart and attractive women of New York City loving their lives and looking for love. The stereotypes have oft been ridiculed by different series (My Boys-I think being the latest): the hyper-sexed alpha female, the 50s housewife traditionalist, the uber-feminist attorney and the quirky, non-comittal but fashionably forward writer. I never got it. I didn't like that they rarely, if ever, had anyone of color included in the cast and how trite the little boxes each of them had to live in became by the end of the series. Fashion forward Carrie would never dream of putting a cream puff past her lips for fear that her dresses wouldn't fit-but boyish, ambitious and stressed out Miranda gained 20+ pounds on her chocolate sex substitutes.

Still...I have to admit the fashion was appealing as hell. Give it up for Patricia Field for introducing the world to Manolo, Choo and Marc Jacobs. I would watch the show more to get outfit ideas than for the plots themselves. I especially respected Carrie's daring sense, but found that Miranda's style suited my own better.

The movie; well, the movie is a different animal altogether. I'll admit it. I laughed, I cried (especially over Kristin Davis' OUTSTANDING Charlotte) and I found myself in the company of great girls doing it. The movie wasn't so much predictable as satisfyingly complete. Every female character on the show made the right decisions for herself and it was a delicious feminist moment to know that every woman in the theater would be a grander, more fabulous self upon leaving. Speaking of, most if not all of the women in the theater were dressed OUT TO Neptune. I saw; a purple fur shrug, an emerald green satin swing dress, jewelry both fake and real, and everywhere, HIGH HEELS HIGH HEELS HIGH HEELS. Sort of gives new meaning to what it is to take your feminine side and OWN it. I went to Octavia that night in sky high heels and a short dress-just to say, I could.

Conclusion: I have a new respect and admiration for SJP and this movie. And a new consideration on what it is to be a woman.

Catch up

Trying to catch up on last week's entries:

So after oyster shucking and eating all day, we got back in our cars and rolled towards Point Reyes-where we met not one, but TWO dogs named 'Yogi'. Guess it's a popular name for dogs in the North Bay. We stopped by 'Bovine Bakery' after looking for the, closed, Cowgirl Creamery. Most peeps stopped for coffee at the bakery, but I waited til we got to the organic coffee stand closer to the center of town for my chai. Later on, after a productive shopping trip to NordieRack with Spam (silk Ici dress! $11.97!)-we all met up again at Himawari Ramen.

Himawari is basically riding the same wave of ramen enthusiasts that congregate at Santa Ramen down the street. Since I have yet to go to Santa, this review may be a bit biased-but I really enjoyed Himawari.
Decor: Himawari, in compairison to the Yelp photos of Santa, is much more modern and nicer looking than Santa. Flooring is bright hardwood and the tables and chairs are in modern dark woods and leather. Lighting is done in trendy track fixtures and the overall feel is that of a fashionable Shinjuku salon-with more square footage per table. They have a medium sized curved bar where you can watch the chefs prepare ramen and eat solo or with a date fairly comfortably.
People: a mix of Asian and American-with emphasis on hipster. The waitresses are all these adorable tiny girls in jeans and white tees printed with Himawari logos. The chefs are two young Japanese guys with cool Asia-pop hairdos. Perfect for the wannabe population. The bathroom and backroom however, have a distinctly Chinatown seedy vibe.

Menu: this is where ramen always gets a little tricky for me. Ever the ones for variety and 'having it your way'-tons of Japanese fast food type places have add-ins (see: curry at 'On the Bridge' or Katana-Ya ramen). With Himawari, you have your choice between: nori (dried seaweed), wakame (fresh seaweed), egg, corn, butter, extra cha-siu (roasted pork), bamboo shoots and buta kakuni (which is a type of fatty pork belly). There are some other add-ins, I just can't remember them right now. Every table comes with a condiment spinner of fried garlic, soy sauce, and the Japanese spice mix (not furikake, but the other one)There are also three types of soup (salt, soy and miso) and then the special tonkotsu (pork bone) soup. Not to be mistaken for tonkatsu-the breaded pork. I just had the regular tonkotsu soup and I added wakame. A ton of the table ordered the buta kakuni-which I was interested in, but felt that since my stomach was already full of oysters and other good food, I should regulate.

Overall, I liked this bowl of ramen. Last time I went to Katana-ya, I was super disappointed. Himawari is something I would probably travel to San Mateo for (they have karaage too!). The tonkotsu soup was super slick and went down my throat nicely. It was rich, but didn't taste overwhelming and the chefs gave me a hefty serving of wakame (sort of like spinach) in my bowl. The cha-siu was PERFECT. Melty, nice ridge of fat, tender. I only wish I had ordered extra-because the three slices was not enough. We all noticed that we were given the thinner ramen noodles on this day-which didn't bug me, but did other people. I didn't try the buta, but did take generous spoonfuls of Spam's snow crab omelet ramen (see photo). It was DELICIOUS! Tangy, sweet and umami omelet tops the ramen-it was borderline Thai, but soooo good.

Afterwards-because we aren't fat enough, we headed down the street to Yogurtouille (yes, there are people who are that cutesy who own businesses)-one of those PinkBerry add em in rip-offs. We asked the servers for sample cups and ahhahah! Unfortunately for them, the machines are set up to deliver their splodges of yogurt fast and furiously. So trying to get a 'little' bit of yogurt wasn't so much a dollop as a wallop. We still all got some tho', I had a mix of lychee and original tart with a ton of fruit: blackberries, blueberries, kiwi, mango and mochi!! It was good, but I think next time, I'd nix the underripe blackberries in favor of saving myself the extra weight (both on my body and the Yogurtouille pay scale). The tart yogurt is so different from the Yogurt Park cups I've been having at work; much more of an Asian sensibility-but tarter and therefore easier to eat more.
We all waddled off into the Sunset. Thus ends a very good end to a Memorial Day in my 2*th year.



I just think the Yogurtouille sign is funny. It sort of contradicts itself, but then...maybe it doesn't. Last time I ate a goji berry, I didn't get a killer sensation, but hey, maybe it rocks some people's worlds.

Himawari Ramen
202 2nd Avenue
San Mateo, CA 94401
(650) 375-1005

Yogurtouille
407 South B St
San Mateo, CA 94401
(650) 548-1381


***************************************
So I am having a little bit of a dating dilemma. If you are interested at all in hearing it and or being the answer to my prayers, please feel free to email me at: pen UNDERSCORE i AT hotmail DOT com.