“Space may be the final frontier/ but it’s made in a Hollywood basement.”
— Californiacation, Red Hot Chili Peppers

NULL

I’ve noticed in the last few months years that I’ve seriously struggled with writing about subjects that don’t interest me, or don’t come from the heart. A 30 page rhetorical communication research paper utilizing fantasy theme criticism to analyze the Lebron James + Kobe Bryant NIKE commercials? Done in less than 48 hours. A 14 page analytical paper on the Nuremberg Trials? Infinitely more excruciating than pulling teeth. I even ended up cheating by using 1.25” margins, size 16 font and it was still only 12 pages…

Whether this is a reflection on my lack of reading these days or a reflection on my lack of ability to articulate myself and my sporadic, random thoughts, it truly saddens me. The written word will forever be my first love, so to have an attention span as short as Twitter status updates is quite sad.

I’d love to go to grad school, continue research in communications, mass media and marketing but if I can only get through 140characters these days without wandering towards Facebook, we’re going to have some serious issues. For what few weeks I have left of summer, I’m going to try my hardest to read books, newspapers, magazines and the like… and stay away from Twitter. I swear, that shit is the devil.
(It’s also easier to blame it on social media and today’s technological age for your own personal problems than to man up and figure shit out).

"it's all in the past"

It’s been 53 minutes since I’ve arrived home, picked up laundry and sat at my desk, finally done with my day. My sweat drenched shirt clings to my back as the baby hairs caress my already dried forehead. Our conversation from earlier today plays over again in my mind… just as it did 53 minutes ago when I tried to seemingly run away from it at the gym. Level: 6.5. Time: 30 minutes. Incline 1.0. Today, for the first time in weeks, you made me laugh, as you always have. We share one of those lighthearted, potentially flirtatious conversations every few weeks… when you’re back in LA from Madrid, or London, or Australia and in the moments or days following, I can’t seem to let go your sense of humor. Of wit. Of respect. Your greeting alone: “Are you engaged yet?” yielded not only a chuckle, but a reminder of the boundaries we will never cross. After all, you are in essence a stranger and I am in love.

But I ran today - without boundaries, without aches, without hesitation - to flee from the disgust I felt with myself. For holding on to what was in the past, and for letting you back in. I know you will never take advantage of the crevice you’ve managed to grasp in my heart and you’ll let the miles and the minutes distance us until that foothold has slipped… before you come sauntering back into my life with your easy swagger and flawless… everything. I run from my inner demons, the demons of a twenty year young’n never fully prepared for the responsibilities and repercussions of a life she could only dream of just years ago. You know this, and that’s why you let me go.

Thank you.

2-0

I’ve spent the morning wishing I was just another 20 year old with no responsibilities, no job and nothing to do but relax on a gloomy summer day.

I want to sleep in until noon, lazily eat a bowl of cereal while watching my favorite cartoons, play video games as the laundry spins and maybe saunter over to the library in the late afternoon to check out some cookbooks for inspiration for that night’s dinner concoction. I want to have the time to text all my friends and tell them how much I miss them, arrange brunch, lunch, dinner and coffee meetings so we can reminisce on the good old days of high school and middle school and then fly home sporadically on a weekend to hug my parents and ask my aunt to cook us a delicious meal of spicy Chinese food. I want to take road trips, get bad tan lines, work out 3+ hours a day and cuddle with my boyfriend whenever it’s socially appropriate. I want to have the time/energy to learn Japanese, perfect Chinese and fumble over how beautiful French is. I want to feel free, relaxed & YOUNG. My youth has escaped me. Not in appearance but in spirit. Damn.

COUNTDOWN

- 10 days until the NIKE World Cup pr campaign is over

- 16 days until I leave for NY again

- 29 days until the fam and I hit Asia for 20 days

- 52 days until my last undergraduate summer vacation is officially over

how time life flies

... on to the next one

Had a luncheon with three of the big bosses today discussing the swoosh, Mark’s picky eating habits, yoga and my next plans. Sometimes it feels as though if I repeat my future plans or goals enough times, they’ll eventually resonate and I can actually do something about them. So. Here’s my next two years, in a nutshell:

- complete my Bachelor of Arts in Communication Studios December 2010

- move to NYC by New Years 2011, while continuing agency work

- study/take my GRE and apply for grad school by spring 2011

- attend graduate school (fall 2011), preferably at Columbia or NYU so I can continue agency work. or in London/Paris so I can not work and live it up in Europe

- graduate spring 2012 with my first Master’s degree

But FIRST: I need to take a nap! :)

California Love


Neil:*humming* Californiaaa... knows how to partyyy... California
Me:knows how to partyyy!
Neil:in the city... the city of Watts. in the city... the city of Compton.
Neil:sing it honey!
Me:*stumbling* Now let me welcome everybody to the wild, wild west...
Neil:... can you not look up the lyrics please?
:////// I'm not sure what's more embarrassing, my boyfriend calling me out about looking up rap lyrics or me not knowing the lyrics to Tupac's California love? :/