I am expending energy; my mouse wheel is forever turning. I sleep to dream and at night I awake with imaginary bubble poofs of ideas floating above my sleepy head and tousled pillow-creased hair. I am working harder than ever and thinking more than ever and perhaps it’s really true: what you put in, you get out.
I say this because this past week I’ve discovered clarity.I visualize the past two years of life and I see floating puzzle pieces and just recently they’ve all begun to find each other. They are the stars orbiting in the fog-ridden Los Angeles night sky. They are intermingling at a social for the divine and right and true.
At some point, some gray area between now and then, want and reality, dreams and possibility, I have transitioned in the last six months or so. I’m not sure when it happened but I am haunted by it. Did it happen in New York this past October, in the early morning dawn before I caught the train into Manhattan? Or that night at the Crown Bar in WeHo when my best friend and I slung back shots and fizzy champagne and danced the night away? But what about the sweet late summer mornings in Brentwood when my alarm clock was the sun coming through my open window, the rustling of paper sacks being carried by my neighbors on their way home from the farmers market?
It doesn’t matter.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
What makes you happy?
Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.
~Melody Beattie
How's this for your daily dose of perspective?
What makes you happy? What are the things you find rewarding in this recession? What are the simple pleasures in your life that you've become reacquainted with?
For me it's my 1.5 mile drive to work. That when I spilled cover all over my pants, shirt, ass (yes, really. I'm still not sure how it got back there...), crotch, etc. that I was able to run home and change in 10-minutes' time.
It’s my Pandora radio list at work; my ability to tune out my team members when I need to.
It’s my non-fat hazelnut lattes in the morning once or twice a week. Sure, $3.45 a pop, but the taste and smell make it a real treat.
Many meals in on weeknights. Quiet nights spent trying a new bottle of wine and a new recipe. Creating something tasty and tangible in the tiny galley Brentwood kitchen.
Free museums.
Walks around the Brentwood Country Club.
I’ve rediscovered the library. Have we forgotten the library? It’s that big building that houses a bizzillion FREE books!
Healthy lunches ate in, pounds lost.
$15 tickets to the Troubadour for Saturday night’s show—a steal!
Clean sheets and the rare occasion I get to sleep in.
~Melody Beattie
How's this for your daily dose of perspective?
What makes you happy? What are the things you find rewarding in this recession? What are the simple pleasures in your life that you've become reacquainted with?
For me it's my 1.5 mile drive to work. That when I spilled cover all over my pants, shirt, ass (yes, really. I'm still not sure how it got back there...), crotch, etc. that I was able to run home and change in 10-minutes' time.
It’s my Pandora radio list at work; my ability to tune out my team members when I need to.
It’s my non-fat hazelnut lattes in the morning once or twice a week. Sure, $3.45 a pop, but the taste and smell make it a real treat.
Many meals in on weeknights. Quiet nights spent trying a new bottle of wine and a new recipe. Creating something tasty and tangible in the tiny galley Brentwood kitchen.
Free museums.
Walks around the Brentwood Country Club.
I’ve rediscovered the library. Have we forgotten the library? It’s that big building that houses a bizzillion FREE books!
Healthy lunches ate in, pounds lost.
$15 tickets to the Troubadour for Saturday night’s show—a steal!
Clean sheets and the rare occasion I get to sleep in.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
I've fallen in love
I am told that when I was a little girl I used to eat oranges. And I have no clue if this blur of a memory is something my eccentric mind has simply conjured, yet I somehow recall sitting on the steps in my parents’ home in Maryland when I was a wee one and munching on a bowl full of orange slices. True? Not sure.
I also know—for a fact—that I had a bit of an obsession with frozen pizza. Cheese only, usually. Sometimes pepperoni. I liked the clean look of a frozen pizza, the dependable crunch with every bite; the perfection the circular shape offered. I would duck away from bites of fresh pizza and wonder why we weren’t eating “the good kind.”
Fast forward many moons and I’m sitting on a couch in Brentwood and my friend invites me to have an orange slice. I start to shake my head and then think, “Why not?” No need to wonder if I enjoyed that slice of Orange Heaven: fast forward a day later and I come home from the market with a bag full of oranges, prepared to indulge in my latest food love. One of such simplicity, such amateur nature.
I have no such defining moment with pizza but now pizza is something that I prepare homemade every few weeks.
Los Angeles, in some ways, is oranges and fresh pizza.
Let me explain. Flash back to about four or five years ago, I’m losing count, to when my ex-boyfriend invited me to come visit him in Los Angeles. This was, of course, before he was my ex-boyfriend and before he was my boyfriend. I had no idea, no image, no dream, of what Los Angeles might mean. I had no visual aid in my head to imagine. City? Yes, a city. But not like New York. Beach? Yes, but when I thought of beach, I envisioned Maryland and its charming boardwalks and diners and wild horses.
My mind was a blank slate when it came to Los Angeles.
The first year I came out here, doing long distance with my boyfriend, I kept an open mind but I didn’t fall in love instantly. Los Angeles had to romance me first. I was confused by the curving of the roads, the vastness of the city, the many choices of neighborhoods. I kept trying to place Los Angeles in a category of sorts. Charming? Formal? Laid back? Beach town or city? Dirty or clean? Superficial? Los Angeles refused to be categorized.
Eventually, I knew I would be happy here and so I moved. I figured it was a good three-to-five year plan for me. I figured it was good for my career. An urban experience but still a cheap one-hour flight back to Arizona suburbia and home sweet home.
But something has happened to me since moving to Brentwood about a year and half ago. I’ve fallen in love with Los Angeles. I never thought I’d be a California girl but now I can’t imagine it any other way. I feel as though I’ve opened up a box and discovered the sweetest of surprises. My walks around the Brentwood country club, the hiking in the canyons. The foodie nature of Angelinos with all of the restaurants and wine tastings and farmers markets. Jogging alongside the ocean. Peet’s Coffee & Tea (the best!). The boutiques you can’t find anywhere else. The birch trees that line Sunset Boulevard as you drive west. Sitting in meetings at work and seeing the ocean on a clear day. The appreciation for the arts.
Now this has me wondering what else I will fall in love with in five years. I was sitting at my kitchen table last night talking to my Mom…
“Just got my latest Netfix movie. It’s so much fun to just open up your mailbox and find a MOVIE!” I said.
“Joanna, I never thought the day would come when you got so excited over a movie rental,” she commented.
Movie rentals. Oranges. Pizza. Los Angeles.
I guess you never know.
I also know—for a fact—that I had a bit of an obsession with frozen pizza. Cheese only, usually. Sometimes pepperoni. I liked the clean look of a frozen pizza, the dependable crunch with every bite; the perfection the circular shape offered. I would duck away from bites of fresh pizza and wonder why we weren’t eating “the good kind.”
Fast forward many moons and I’m sitting on a couch in Brentwood and my friend invites me to have an orange slice. I start to shake my head and then think, “Why not?” No need to wonder if I enjoyed that slice of Orange Heaven: fast forward a day later and I come home from the market with a bag full of oranges, prepared to indulge in my latest food love. One of such simplicity, such amateur nature.
I have no such defining moment with pizza but now pizza is something that I prepare homemade every few weeks.
Los Angeles, in some ways, is oranges and fresh pizza.
Let me explain. Flash back to about four or five years ago, I’m losing count, to when my ex-boyfriend invited me to come visit him in Los Angeles. This was, of course, before he was my ex-boyfriend and before he was my boyfriend. I had no idea, no image, no dream, of what Los Angeles might mean. I had no visual aid in my head to imagine. City? Yes, a city. But not like New York. Beach? Yes, but when I thought of beach, I envisioned Maryland and its charming boardwalks and diners and wild horses.
My mind was a blank slate when it came to Los Angeles.
The first year I came out here, doing long distance with my boyfriend, I kept an open mind but I didn’t fall in love instantly. Los Angeles had to romance me first. I was confused by the curving of the roads, the vastness of the city, the many choices of neighborhoods. I kept trying to place Los Angeles in a category of sorts. Charming? Formal? Laid back? Beach town or city? Dirty or clean? Superficial? Los Angeles refused to be categorized.
Eventually, I knew I would be happy here and so I moved. I figured it was a good three-to-five year plan for me. I figured it was good for my career. An urban experience but still a cheap one-hour flight back to Arizona suburbia and home sweet home.
But something has happened to me since moving to Brentwood about a year and half ago. I’ve fallen in love with Los Angeles. I never thought I’d be a California girl but now I can’t imagine it any other way. I feel as though I’ve opened up a box and discovered the sweetest of surprises. My walks around the Brentwood country club, the hiking in the canyons. The foodie nature of Angelinos with all of the restaurants and wine tastings and farmers markets. Jogging alongside the ocean. Peet’s Coffee & Tea (the best!). The boutiques you can’t find anywhere else. The birch trees that line Sunset Boulevard as you drive west. Sitting in meetings at work and seeing the ocean on a clear day. The appreciation for the arts.
Now this has me wondering what else I will fall in love with in five years. I was sitting at my kitchen table last night talking to my Mom…
“Just got my latest Netfix movie. It’s so much fun to just open up your mailbox and find a MOVIE!” I said.
“Joanna, I never thought the day would come when you got so excited over a movie rental,” she commented.
Movie rentals. Oranges. Pizza. Los Angeles.
I guess you never know.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
It's happening
It was a week or so prior to college graduation and in an effort forged by fear, naivety and steel will determined to “stick it to the man” my friend, “BP” and I found ourselves at the Borders off of Mill Avenue in Tempe late one night. We were on the floor, nestled on the carpet in various yoga-like poses and surrounded—literally—by book after book on how to start your own business. We had pens in hand, paper on floor, and we were lost among the titles, among our dreams, completely unperturbed when customers politely stepped over us to get to a neighboring shelf. We were euphoric on waves of motivation and want but faced those whimsy things armless, sans tools and knowledge.
In the coming months we graduated. We got jobs. We worked 8 to 5 and 9 to 5 and everything in between. We found comfort in a steady paycheck, climbed the so-called ladder and then…
“This is it?” we asked each other, one night over wine in San Francisco. “This is what it comes down to? Living in Arizona and working a regular job and….what about everything else?”
And so we went at it again, this time smarter. Slower. More thoughtful.
This summer it’ll have been a year since BP and I clinked champagne glasses to starting our own business together. It will have been one year since we had 3 a.m. negotiations with a man in Europe, fighting fiercely over the price of a domain name we told ourselves we needed. It will have been a year since we created databases, resource lists, reached out to a Web developer. It will have been a year since we once again opened up those new business books we bought late that night in Tempe, nearly five years ago. A year since we talked copyright law, logo creation and brand. Created FAQs. Brainstormed over brunch with mimosas and laptops.
It started off slow and then something—and I’m not sure of the what or the why—happened and now it’s this daily disease of emailing back and forth. Sneaking research time here and there at work. Afternoon texting of inspiration and the flicker of bright ideas. The pooling of resources and the mutual respect and the underlying hum of faith that we can do this.
Somewhere within the slum of this economic downturn and the daily drivel of my job, which has become robot-like and often sits in my life like a molding fruit, I haven’t been this happy with my “work” in a long time.
In the coming months we graduated. We got jobs. We worked 8 to 5 and 9 to 5 and everything in between. We found comfort in a steady paycheck, climbed the so-called ladder and then…
“This is it?” we asked each other, one night over wine in San Francisco. “This is what it comes down to? Living in Arizona and working a regular job and….what about everything else?”
And so we went at it again, this time smarter. Slower. More thoughtful.
This summer it’ll have been a year since BP and I clinked champagne glasses to starting our own business together. It will have been one year since we had 3 a.m. negotiations with a man in Europe, fighting fiercely over the price of a domain name we told ourselves we needed. It will have been a year since we created databases, resource lists, reached out to a Web developer. It will have been a year since we once again opened up those new business books we bought late that night in Tempe, nearly five years ago. A year since we talked copyright law, logo creation and brand. Created FAQs. Brainstormed over brunch with mimosas and laptops.
It started off slow and then something—and I’m not sure of the what or the why—happened and now it’s this daily disease of emailing back and forth. Sneaking research time here and there at work. Afternoon texting of inspiration and the flicker of bright ideas. The pooling of resources and the mutual respect and the underlying hum of faith that we can do this.
Somewhere within the slum of this economic downturn and the daily drivel of my job, which has become robot-like and often sits in my life like a molding fruit, I haven’t been this happy with my “work” in a long time.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
My LA List just got bigger
Since moving to Los Angeles about a year and a half ago, I've strived to cross off a thing or two on my "LA List" at least once a month. So much to do here, so much to explore.
But who knew--Los Angeles has 87 neighborhoods!!--and this map doesn't even count neighborhoods that I "count" like Little Tokyo and Larchmont.
My list just became super-sized.
Check it out.
But who knew--Los Angeles has 87 neighborhoods!!--and this map doesn't even count neighborhoods that I "count" like Little Tokyo and Larchmont.
My list just became super-sized.
Check it out.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
A collage
A collage of thoughts, images and memories from the past few days, past weekend.
The view of West Los Angeles as I left work on Friday, the crisp dark night air in my face and a city of sprinkling lights before me. My new roomie’s face lighting up in the kitchen as she unloaded groceries, when I asked her if she wanted to go grab a drink. The bartender I hadn’t seen in about two months saying hello and sending over several rounds of drinks, “These are on me.”
The hum and chug of the washing machines and Infatuation’s now-familiar voice on the phone. Sitting in a car parked in red on busy Lincoln Blvd to get some of the best damn Italian sandwiches I have ever had. Traffic, never-ending traffic, in Santa Monica. The drive up to Malibu on the famous PCH with the windows down and sun filtering through my dirty car windows. Eating those “best damn sandwiches” pool-side at the Getty, as though we lived in Florence thousands of years ago, and I ate passionately and had mustard at the corners of my mouth. Sips of wine in the soft sun.
Kneading of pizza dough and simmering of the sauce. Early evening naps, let the dough just rise! Vibrant toasts meant for a summer’s night. Quick phone calls, reaching out like spider legs to the LA network to see what the dark night might bring. The walking to the bars, the gibber-gabs, the shenanigans and the crowding of asses on benches and in booths. Silly declarations of adoration, profound musings and late night secrets.
Errands in Westwood, wine sales and the purchasing of fun home accessories like glasses and candles. The scrubbing and cleaning that Sunday often brings. More hum of laundry and more kneading of the dough—pizza number two!—the gentle placement of pepperoni slices, the soft grating of cheese. A quiet night of a sentence said here and there, the glow of the computer screen, the clacking noise made by my blinds as the gentle evening breeze sauntered in.
Monday morning chaos and 8 a.m. conference calls. Need caffeine. The quick walk three blocks down to the Starbucks on the corner where they’re starting to know my usual, “Skinny latte?” “Please.” The tensing and untensing of shoulders and growling of the stomach. Margaritas and wine late-night at a taco joint catching up with an old friend. Pear tequila underneath an electric pink glow. A familiar smile and unfamiliar stories.
5:30 a.m. wake up calls to do THE STAIRS in Santa Monica. The huffing and puffing and groaning of the body at dawn, working and pumping underneath an orange moon, lazily hanging above the Pacific. 9 a.m. conference calls, too-sweet Chinese food. Leaving of work satisfied and accomplished. An evening jog through Brentwood with close friends in the lavender light of the magic hour.
Oh, the joys of daylight savings.
The view of West Los Angeles as I left work on Friday, the crisp dark night air in my face and a city of sprinkling lights before me. My new roomie’s face lighting up in the kitchen as she unloaded groceries, when I asked her if she wanted to go grab a drink. The bartender I hadn’t seen in about two months saying hello and sending over several rounds of drinks, “These are on me.”
The hum and chug of the washing machines and Infatuation’s now-familiar voice on the phone. Sitting in a car parked in red on busy Lincoln Blvd to get some of the best damn Italian sandwiches I have ever had. Traffic, never-ending traffic, in Santa Monica. The drive up to Malibu on the famous PCH with the windows down and sun filtering through my dirty car windows. Eating those “best damn sandwiches” pool-side at the Getty, as though we lived in Florence thousands of years ago, and I ate passionately and had mustard at the corners of my mouth. Sips of wine in the soft sun.
Kneading of pizza dough and simmering of the sauce. Early evening naps, let the dough just rise! Vibrant toasts meant for a summer’s night. Quick phone calls, reaching out like spider legs to the LA network to see what the dark night might bring. The walking to the bars, the gibber-gabs, the shenanigans and the crowding of asses on benches and in booths. Silly declarations of adoration, profound musings and late night secrets.
Errands in Westwood, wine sales and the purchasing of fun home accessories like glasses and candles. The scrubbing and cleaning that Sunday often brings. More hum of laundry and more kneading of the dough—pizza number two!—the gentle placement of pepperoni slices, the soft grating of cheese. A quiet night of a sentence said here and there, the glow of the computer screen, the clacking noise made by my blinds as the gentle evening breeze sauntered in.
Monday morning chaos and 8 a.m. conference calls. Need caffeine. The quick walk three blocks down to the Starbucks on the corner where they’re starting to know my usual, “Skinny latte?” “Please.” The tensing and untensing of shoulders and growling of the stomach. Margaritas and wine late-night at a taco joint catching up with an old friend. Pear tequila underneath an electric pink glow. A familiar smile and unfamiliar stories.
5:30 a.m. wake up calls to do THE STAIRS in Santa Monica. The huffing and puffing and groaning of the body at dawn, working and pumping underneath an orange moon, lazily hanging above the Pacific. 9 a.m. conference calls, too-sweet Chinese food. Leaving of work satisfied and accomplished. An evening jog through Brentwood with close friends in the lavender light of the magic hour.
Oh, the joys of daylight savings.
Friday, March 6, 2009
It's Friday. I'm wiped.
I have been MIA but things have been moving so quickly that I have not had much time or energy to write!
Since my last post, I have:
- Flown to Arizona for one of my best friend’s engagement parties. I’m a bridesmaid!
- Been asked to be a bridesmaid in a different best friend’s wedding—I’m honored!
- Been cooking and entertaining quite a bit: red snapper, creamy tomato sauce, halibut, garlic green beans, more picnic plates…
- Planned trips back to Arizona for Easter weekend, Chi-town in April
- Gone skiing just about an hour and a half outside of Los Angeles to Big Bear. To be honest, the mountain kinda sucked but my snow cravings are satisfied and hopefully I’ll make up to Mammoth before this season is over.
- Gone jogging several times alongside the ocean
- Gotten into a weekly habit of stopping by Peet’s Coffee in Brentwood a few times a week in the morning to pick up a non-fat hazelnut latte before work—such a treat!
- Gotten a new roommate. My old roomie told me she was moving out, I found a new roommate and she moved in—all within one week’s time period. And the new girl is amazing! I have no idea where my roomie luck comes from but somewhere there is a Roommate Fairy who likes me. This is roommate #3 at the Brentwood Chateau.
- Unfortunately had to cancel my wine trip (was supposed to be tomorrow) but now it’s late April; that’s just fine. Instead we’re going to the Getty in Malibu and we’ll be picnicking and sipping wine among art, gardens and ocean views. Not a bad substitute (and it still involves wine).
- Made significant progress with a good friend on a business we are starting.
- Worked insanely long hours at work.
That’s it, for now. It’s Friday. It’s a good day. It’s clear and sunny and bright outside, mid 60s here in Los Angeles but the blue sky makes you want to lie down besides the ocean. It’s a busy day and the office is a symphony of busy fingers tip-tapping across keyboards and phones. We had our usual catered in Friday breakfasts: omelettes and breakfast burritos and yogurt and granola. It’s a busy day at work. Things are unpredictable around here but the morale is high. Tonight I get to come home to a clean apartment, eat delicious leftovers and I may get a drink with a Maryland friend.
It’s a good day.
Since my last post, I have:
- Flown to Arizona for one of my best friend’s engagement parties. I’m a bridesmaid!
- Been asked to be a bridesmaid in a different best friend’s wedding—I’m honored!
- Been cooking and entertaining quite a bit: red snapper, creamy tomato sauce, halibut, garlic green beans, more picnic plates…
- Planned trips back to Arizona for Easter weekend, Chi-town in April
- Gone skiing just about an hour and a half outside of Los Angeles to Big Bear. To be honest, the mountain kinda sucked but my snow cravings are satisfied and hopefully I’ll make up to Mammoth before this season is over.
- Gone jogging several times alongside the ocean
- Gotten into a weekly habit of stopping by Peet’s Coffee in Brentwood a few times a week in the morning to pick up a non-fat hazelnut latte before work—such a treat!
- Gotten a new roommate. My old roomie told me she was moving out, I found a new roommate and she moved in—all within one week’s time period. And the new girl is amazing! I have no idea where my roomie luck comes from but somewhere there is a Roommate Fairy who likes me. This is roommate #3 at the Brentwood Chateau.
- Unfortunately had to cancel my wine trip (was supposed to be tomorrow) but now it’s late April; that’s just fine. Instead we’re going to the Getty in Malibu and we’ll be picnicking and sipping wine among art, gardens and ocean views. Not a bad substitute (and it still involves wine).
- Made significant progress with a good friend on a business we are starting.
- Worked insanely long hours at work.
That’s it, for now. It’s Friday. It’s a good day. It’s clear and sunny and bright outside, mid 60s here in Los Angeles but the blue sky makes you want to lie down besides the ocean. It’s a busy day and the office is a symphony of busy fingers tip-tapping across keyboards and phones. We had our usual catered in Friday breakfasts: omelettes and breakfast burritos and yogurt and granola. It’s a busy day at work. Things are unpredictable around here but the morale is high. Tonight I get to come home to a clean apartment, eat delicious leftovers and I may get a drink with a Maryland friend.
It’s a good day.
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