Earthquakes, cockroaches, and cat vomit, oh my!

SO the reason for the lack of updates, till now, has been that I've simply been having too much fun. Prancing through West Hollywood, enjoying the sunshine and meals at the farmers market, and trips to moonlight beach and Encinitas.

Then, this morning hit! And with it, news footage of earthquake drills preparing my area for disaster. Fake dead bodies are lined up on football fields in Pasadena.

No one warned me when I was moving out here that 'the big one' could be coming! 1,800 casualites predicted.

As Aud and I were frantically googling earthquake strategies so that we as native East-Coasters could survive this trauma, my cat puked up his breakfast.

As I was cleaning that up, a cockroach came out from under the sink.

Party central. Hopefully the rest of my day will be better than this.

Audrey did my make up last night. Sparkle glitter style. Oh oh my.

to be honest

I'm leaving in 2 days. I could pretend that I'm simply estatic and optimistic about my sunny Californian future, but I'm scared shitless. I have this lump in my throat that won't go away, and every time I see something fondly familiar I feel like I might never see it again, or at least not in the same way. Like the stupid diner. There are millions like it, but this was my diner. This is where we went at midnight after dances or concerts in Philly, and where we re-united after driving an hour and a half to come home from college. It's all going to be so far away.

My stomach hurts like it always does when I'm nervous about something. I love my friends, I love my family, and I'm comfortable. We're taught to believe in this culture that individualism and chasing wealth and prosperity and glamour is a virtue, but am I doing the right thing? Am I Am I Am I? Please tell me that Philadelphia will always be here. Please tell me that I won't fall on my face. Please tell me that I'll break my bad habits and live a healthy, fufilling, non-lonely life.

I'm going to go watch Dexter and drink some Pepto.

oh geee

the phillies have me all sentimental. this is just so perfect and wonderful, and the best way to spend the last few weeks in new jersey with my best friends. this last year on the east coast has had its ups and downs, but i think this phillies series and the time ive spent as of late with els and carolyn, as well as the previous year in 5c with michael, lizz, etc... man, its just too perfect. i'll miss you all, but have these great memories of the easy and simple times we spent together. and i'll have them forever. i know sometimes things got rough and came to a head this year, but i'm so glad they did and i feel more confident in this group than ever before. we're going to make it after all, us and mary tyler.

i'm trying so hard lately to be more considerate and less judgmental. and to try to think of others before myself. i think i'm honestly making strides. it's a slow but rewarding process.

on a lighter note, can't WAIT for in-n-out with some of the bestest people i've ever met. and mike, too.

I love drunken 130 am facebook chats with French people

1:36am Julien:
Phillies are very good these time! I am not looking a lot of baseball game but i still keeep an eyes on these guys because you are a big fan!
1:37am Shaunna
haha... we're going to win!
1:38am Julien
ok we talk again another time i will go sleep...a+

Thank you, Julien Thibeault. Best random facebook chat message EVER.

Sitting in an English garden, waiting for the sun.

"She would have liked to tell them that behind Communism, Fascism, behind all occupations and invasions lurks a more basic, pervasive evil and that the image of that evil was a parade of people marching by with raised fists and shouting identical syllables in unison. But she knew she would never be able to make them understand. Embarassed, she changed the subject"- Kundera.

How beautiful you are, Sabina! Seeing that the danger isn't necessarily in the ideals or the regimes themselves, but in the basic human tendency to latch onto ideas and slogans with fervor, and give up individual thought and reason for the mob. The mob holds undeniable appeal; as a Philly fan who shouts out 'Fly Eagles Fly' in unison with drunken, maniacal idots on a regular basis I must confess that I too, to a much lesser extent, engage in 'marching by with raised fists and shouting identical syllables in unison." It's when that same Philly sports fan mentality is coupled with economic collapse, years of political discontent, and empty wallets and bellies that the true danger is done.

PS- Today Nick attempted to explain his recent actions towards me. He said "maybe I'm just an asshole; I keep treating you badly without meaning to." Just an asshole, eh? I think that very few people are 'just assholes.' Making asshole decisions is a conscious choice. I realize perfectly well that it is frequently way easier to make the asshole decision than the decision that could potentially lead to you being hurt or vulnerable. But calling youself 'just an asshole' is taking the easy way out, and a pathetic attempt to excuse your actions by giving yourself an unfortuate label. You were not born an asshole, you're just acting like one.

Despite my recent disappointments, I, for one, will keep trying my best to do the right thing in my personal relationships. I vow to hold my tongue and not say hurtful things in the heat of the moment. I vow to keep appointments with dear friends even when it is difficult or time consuming, and stick to them. I vow to 'take the higher road', whatever that means. Basically, I just want to be good. I want to love people. I want to do random nice things for my friends. I want to think of others first. It sets you up for some serious hurt, but in the end I just think its so so worth it.

On the Hudson

I've been at my aunt's house on the Hudson River for the last four days. I needed to take a breather after quitting my job at Houlihan's and enduring a rough week in relationship-land. Her house is magnificent, with windows overlooking the river and the rainbow of fall foliage. We saw a bald eagle, a wolf, and some salamanders. Hey roadtrippers, can I post pictures on this thing without having a paid account? If so, I'll have to do that when I get home. New England in the fall is just amazing. Not that I regret moving to LA in 3 weeks. Fall is gorgeous when the leaves change, but when they fall and everything dies, so does the appeal for me. I don't like the eerieness and the sadness and the bitterness that permeates this area in the winter. I'll take constant sunshine anyday.

I started reading "The Unbearable Lightness of Being." This is the perfect setting for this kind of book. And I'm loving it. Okay, time for dinner. And then baseball. Go Phillies.

Today was a hard day. Too hard to currently blog about. But I do want to post D'Angelo Barksdale's thoughts on "Gatsby", since I finished it today.

"The past is always with us. Where we come from, what we go through, how we go through it; all this shit matters. Like at the end of the book, ya' know, boats and tides and all. It's like you can change up, right, you can say your somebody new, you can give yourself a whole new story. But, what came first is who you really are and what happened before is what really happened. It don't matter that some fool say he different 'cause the things that make you different is what you really do, what you really go through. Like, ya' know, all those books in his library. He frontin' with all them books, but if you pull one down off the shelf, none of the pages have ever been opened. He got all them books, and he hasn't read nearly one of them. Gatsby, he was who he was, and he did what he did. And 'cause he wasn't willing to get real with the story, that shit caught up to him."

That was an excellent interpretation, D. I'm sorry things had to end the way they did.

A smile.

I've put aside 'Memory Keeper's Daughter', and I'm currently re-reading Gatsby for the first time since high school. Much better the second time through, with some years of city-life and mild heartbreak under my belt. We're not the jazz age, but gin never stopped being the national drink nor sex the national obsession. Reading a book like Gatsby makes it truly evident that people in general really do not change, and our troubles are never unique, no matter how hard we wish them to be.

Psssshhht. How beautiful is this introduction?

'He smiled understandingly- much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced- or seemed to face- the whole external world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it has precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey."

In other news, November 5th it is. Hopefully that day will be joyous for me on two fronts- I'm moving to a new life and a new career, and I'll have the knowledge that Barack Obama will be our next president. I'll grin from ear to ear with this knowledge; my giddiness will override the discomfort and frusteration that always accompany traveling.

For Paul T- my Houli schedule next week.

Monday-lunch.
Tuesday-lunch
Wednesday- in at 4. You should come for happy hour :)
Thursday- lunch.
Friday- tenative dinner.
Saturday- dinner at 430.

It's almost over. It's almost over. It's almost over...

You can't take a picture of this...

Since I'm feeling sentimental today and just cried again over the "Six Feet Under" series finale, I'm going to post some of my favorite SFU quotes.

"I pray you will be filled with hope as long as you possibly can"- Ruth Fisher to Claire Fisher.

"You can't take a picture of this. It's already gone"- Nate Fisher to Claire Fisher

"There's been an accident. The new hearse is totaled. Your father is dead. Your father is dead and my pot roast is ruined" -Ruth Fisher to David Fisher.

"I prefer the term "fuck puppet"- Brenda Chenowith to David Fisher

Nathaniel Sr.: You hang onto your pain like it means something, like it's worth something. Well let me tell 'ya, it's not worth shit. Let it go. [Looking towards ceiling]Infinite possibilities and all he can do is whine.
David: Well what am I supposed to do?
Nathaniel Sr.: What do you think? You can do anything you lucky bastard, you're alive! What's a little pain compared to that?

"I'm just saying you only get one life. There's no god, no rules, no judgments, except for those you accept or create for yourself. And once it's over, it's over. Dreamless sleep forever and ever. So why not be happy while you're here. Really. Why not? "- Nate.

LA's fine but it ain't home...

New York's home but it ain't mine no more.

Oh, Neil! How true, how true.

I finished 'Animal Farm'. A quick but fun read. After my semester-long course on Dystopian Lit for my senior "ILA" (I honestly don't even know what that stands for), I've gotten used to fictional totalitarianism regimes (we read 1984, Brave New World, Farenheit451, A Handmaid's Tale, A Clockwork Orange, etc. etc.), but this one still holds its own. I won't forget it anytime soon. Orwell's prose is just excellent, and the similarities to real-life figures was hilarrrriouuuussss. I felt so bad for Snowball, the swine version of Trotsky who was dispelled from the farm after his inital, peaceful version of the revolution was overtaken in a coup by Napoleon, aka Stalin. Snowball being blamed for the later catastrophic events on the farm, and the back-and-forth between the 2 neighboring farms being friends and enemies, were very similar to plotlines in 1984. Snowball is like their Goldstein, and the two farms their Eurasia and Eastasia.

Now I'm reading 'The Memory Keeper's Daughter'. I feel like it's an Oprah's book club read or something, but my mom recommended it, and if I don't read something she's recommended soon, it will probably hurt her feelings. I'm going to hit 'To Kill a Mockingbird' after that, since it's been since 7th grade.

Finally, my mom was gone visiting her brother all weekend, and when she got home my dad had one of her favorite meals, slow-cooked prime rib, waiting for her. With grilled veggies and baked potatoes. My dad can be a really good guy sometimes.

Heyyy-yoooooo

Currently reading: George Orwell's 'Animal Farm'. I found a box of books in the basement, and found treasures like 'To Kill a Mockingbird' and 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.' All books that fit nicely into my current phase : re-reading classics they assigned us way too early in high school or middle school to be fully appreciated. Who can understand "Gatsby" as a 9th grader? I could smack my former self for rushing through those books and focusing on the vocabulary terms we had for homework. I can't hate on Collingswood schools too much, though. I think it's rare to find those "Dead Poets' Society"-esque teachers that have us jumping on our desks and holding secret meetings for literature. We just had to pass the vocab or 'useful terms' tests.

As I type this, Reese is staring at me with those bug-eyes of his, and it's giving me the willies.

Current hoping : that I will fight off this nasty cold I've had for three days in time to return to yoga tomorrow night. Monday night is the traditional Ashtanga series that I started taking about a month ago, and I am fully obsessed with it! I've had the opportunity to try so many different types of yoga this summer, and I feel like my move to L.A. will only make this better. I was all packed to go to Friday's night's Anusara class, but I was scolded by my parents for potentially exposing my teachers/classmates to my germs. Then I researched "yoga while sick", and found this:

"When we are coming down with a cold or are in the full brunt force of being sick, our body’s immune system is put into overdrive producing antibodies to combat the viruses that cause the cold symptoms. These antibodies are made partially of proteins and amino acid components. The production of these complex proteins requires energy. The more sick one is, the more energy is required to fuel the immune system.
Now consider what happens when we exercise or do Yoga while your immune system is fighting the onset of a cold. The energy highly needed for your immune system is instead being transferred to the muscles to create movement. This energy is depleted from the body either as mechanical energy (movement) or as heat. This transfer of energy strips the immune system of precious energy resources and begins to limit the immune system’s capacity to produce antibodies." (yoga.blogscene.com)

Oops. I've still been 'bad' and going for jogs, though. And I worked last night at the restaurant. I'm not so good at the 'relax and pamper yourself' thing. Maybe that's why my colds tend to last for weeks.

Finally,
CONGRATS TO THE PHILADELPHIA PHILLIES! 2008 NATIONAL LEAGUE CHAMPIONS!

And,
GO EAGLES!! BEAT THE BEARS!!

Something else I learned about Fred today...

He has a 'kill book'. When he kills someone, he tries to take a picture and put it in his book, so he can remember it forever.

MMM Wine.

So I've finally broken into the wine stash I have from my graduation party. I am currently drinking a bottle of "Cory's Zucchero Esente", from Plagido's Winery in Hammonton, New Jersey. A gift from Connie Zhu. I'm drinking alone on a Monday night. Since I'm no longer a college student, this may not be acceptable. Ambivalent face.

This weekend, I went to see Shea in New York. It had been awhile since my last visit. I love seeing Shea (and Cat, who watched 7 hours of football with me, God bless her), but being in New York made me feel a little bit sad. I thought I loved that city so much for so long, and now when I go, I just think of the tempermental weather and my blistered feet and the lack of trees and quiet. I never thought I'd be ready for a quieter life by age 22. The only things I miss about New York lately are lunches with Lily and Gio, sleepovers with Allie, my apartment with Mike, and pretty much everything about Sarah Vela. They're gone, and so is my attachment to the city. I really hope that L.A. is a good fit for me, but if it isn't, at least I'll know that the quieter, quainter feel of Old City, Philadelphia will still be here.

Things I learned about my new 30-something co-worker Fred, while working a double on Friday:
*he used to be in a drug gang, and therefore cannot get a 'real job' (he is a waiter)
*he was once stabbed my a machete
*he is not legally allowed to see his son, who lives in London
*he was kicked out of college for writing a racist essay
*he is bipolar, but doesn't believe in taking medication
*he is Nordic, and believes that himself and the rest of his race are natural killers
*he wishes to join Blackwater after working at Houlihan's, because he loves war and was 'born to kill'

Roadtrippers- please know that I miss you tremendously, hope you are having a blast, and cannot wait to see you out West.

Till then, I send my love from the East.

I apologize.

My job (the waitressing, not the writing) has been draining me of all of my vital life energies lately. The constant racism ("don't seat me black tables", they'll say. Or, when someone gets stiffed, "oh, they were black, weren't they?"), rudeness, sense of self-importance (why do people think their bad day/shift gives them the right to be so shitty to people?) , silly corporate-ness (if someone tells me to 'sizzle' something one more time... ), has been really bringing me down. Tonight a much older, much more slightly insane waiter basically robbed me, then called me the 'c-word' behind my back. But the rumor is he might get fired, so I was told by management to not take it personally... still, I would like my $35 dollars, and I resent being called that diry, mean word.

In high school things like this didn't bother me. But I've seen the other side. I've been excited to go to work, I've had the exhilerating feeling of being compensated for doing something I love. Going back to counting down the hours and trying not to scream feels wrong. I thought I did everything I was supposed to do. The studying, the straight A's, the badass internships. Cut me a break, real world.

Okay. Drama queen out. Mad love to my roadtrippers.

Update

Reese is okay now. He suffers from frequent dietary indescretion, and he had a balloon lodged in his stomach. We are giving him kitty laxatives, and they have worked. Disaster averted.

On another note, my folks and I are flying into Los Angeles on November 5th. I hope you road-trippers will be able to come visit us, and join us on our hike in the Santa Monica mountains!

I'll write my exciting rant on racism in the workplace when I get back. For now, Philly sports.

parenting is hell

Last night, I had a nightmare that Reese had temporarily escaped and came back home bruised and bloodied from the neighborhood cats, and no matter how hard we tried we couldn't fix him up. Some time later, I woke up to my mom telling me that Reese is sick, he's been throwing up/not eating, and his eyes are all oozy.

Guys, he looks a hot mess. This is breaking my heart. He was fine last night, and now he has pus oozing from his trademark huge eyes. I'm taking him to the vet at six, and I might be sort of a wreck until then. Seeing innocent animals sick is too much for me. Too much.

Oh yeah.

I guess maybe I should comment on the whole Sarah Palin thing since that's been all abuzz lately. I keep hearing a lot of liberals laughing about her intense differences from Hill (like the anti-choice agenda); and I agree that Palin is a poor 'substitute' for Hill since it's obvious that he's trying to reel in her voters. But, that being said, there are boatloads of people out there who really don't read up on the issues and really, really, hate the fact that Obama beat Hill out for the nomination. I happen to know some of them (they annoy me). I hope Obama goes even SLIGHTLY on the attack and points out the subtle fact that Palin has absolutely no foreign policy experience, and she hasn't even served as governer for that long. McCain has been attacking all the dems on their lack of fp experience since the old days when I was still in college; maybe Obama should point out the fact that Palin was mayor of a town full of polar bears and igloos while he was in the senate. As Diddy said, there aren't even crackheads where Palin is from. Geez. Do we want a leader that doesn't even know any crackheads? Even I know a crackhead, and I've never been elected to office.

Last night at work, I waited on a table consisting of two preppily-dressed young men, who pounded away on their blackberries while they sipped on their Stellas during happy hour. They really only looked up to flirt with me a little as I performed my waitress-ly duties. At one point, Rudy Giuliani appeared on one of our numerous jumbo flatscreens to spread his wisdom throughout the bar/lounge area. One of the men at my table used this time to brag to me about how last year he was pretty high-up in Rudy's campaign staff. I opened my big fat mouth and talked about my time with Wayne Barrett (my boss, who, during my time as an assistant, helped bring down Giuliani's campaign with some cold, hard truth). This lovely young man left me $2 on a $42 dollar check. And I am a damn skilled waitress.

Testing. 123.

I created this blog because the road-trippers made one. I want to feel connected to them, my friends, as well as the other people I've had to leave behind since graduating and leaving the city. I respect everyone who is good at staying in touch via phone, but I'm not so using something like this is probably a good idea.

Today I went on Audrey's boat in Batsto for labor day. We talked about how we were doing the exact same thing on labor day nine years ago; swimming in the muddy, cedar water with nooldles while Dick drank beers at the wheel (safe, right?). Then, like magic, "Tearin' Up My Heart" by N*Sync came on the radio, and it would have been a picture-perfect recreation if Audrey's hair were red and not dyed pepto-pink.

Now, since you all are gone, I'm feeling my own cross-country departure creeping up faster than ever. It's scary, but my new freelance writing jobs will be a nice distraction from thinking about change. I love writing, I love editing, I love journalism; but have always lacked a certain degree of self-discipline when it comes to making my own hours and working without deadlines. Let's see how I do.

Friends, I hope Chicago is great. Eat some deep-dish.