homemade.

home-loving.
familial.
fond of home.

these are all synonyms of the word "domestic" or "domesticated."

i happen to love cooking. and the meals i make are pretty good. after my mom schooled me tonight on baking leche flan, vanilla cake, and my bro's banana cake (i made them into four dozen cupcakes for q's bday.. half with whipped butter cream icing :), i can bake some pretty comforting desserts now tambien.

(i was on the phone with colleen for a bit during, and she mentioned that girls who maintain "domestic" characteristics are hard to come by these days. true that. but the word to describe us is just so dated. i'm thinking of home / kitchen appliance ads from the eighties. or like i've been tamed or some shit. a pet.)

then while everything was baking, i made this amazingly tender hawaiian bbq pork, with sweet corn, broccoli, and rice. uh, so good with furikake. and sukà (as in sawsaw, not suka as in puke).

it will be fun to have my own kitchen again. but in the meantime, it's def fun to please mis padres with my food creations.


up. all. night. grrr.

feelin it.

i'm trying not to think into anything i do. everything comes, and goes. i've gotten this far going with the flow. but sometimes the flow is just straight foolish. it's funny how a grown woman can turn into a sixteen year-old girl in certain situations. i mean, we're talking intelligent, doesn't need anybody type shit.

but it's never been about needing. more like, i would like very much.

i've come to terms with the way things are going. of course i wouldn't mind already chilling on some cute little beachfront, riding bikes & trains, and working in some boutique. but then again, i did that once already. good god, you mean to tell me that it only gets better? those some terms.

or you get what you want and give up a lot of apparently essential shit to get it.

quality companionship is essential. as is advocating my lifestyle.

and it is only getting better!



make that day job the dream job.

up. all. night.

it's all about this little girl.

up.

all.
night.
("burning a peace pipe & inhaling a tree")


my body, c'est en mode petit chaton lately. très nocturnal. stretching that writing dollar keeps the ideas coming. as in, how do i make more doing what i like doing. all roads lead home.

make that day job the dream job.



there was like a girly funk chilling in me for a couple days.. was experiencing serious girly shit: makeup touch ups, mirror visits, plotting outfits / boys, listening to estelle, blahblahblah. while it was entertaining to observe myself go through the motions... what a waste of time.





tempura bananas & strawberries.
with whipped cream. and hot fudge.







smokey sabado.

tasteless assholes ruin another block.

fancy grindz. for real tho.

up. all. night. it's on repeat.

sun.

ah. i can finally get back to soaking in some much needed vitamin d. i have a new-found appreciation for tan lines.

this is an interesting time. i've put down the books and am figuring it all out as i go. hustle la douce. i plan on living a very long life. i've got nothing but time.

speaking of, girl talk is the current consumption. one exchange i got caught up in reminds me of one of my fave sesame street songs:

"One of these things is not like the others,
One of these things just doesn't belong,
Can you tell which thing is not like the others
By the time I finish my song?"

in this case, it's one of my girls. damn. the idea of me is lost in the we. apparently, being able to "we" shit is an achievement greater than graduation. the response? i'm told that i'm "anti-men." woo. too funny.

and then there are maps. island daze.





celebrating the win higher ed steez.

the view from ninang carol's country digs.

country sunset.









wilshire & curson is becoming a usual stop these days.

max's with the little girl.







vernissage styles upon styles.

io voglio essere là.

no more talking, please.

like is it cool if people could just be quiet? i feel like they're all talking at me. or tell me something i don't know.

or cute boys who i just want to tell, "shhh. just smile."

pain killers. that's a funny term. the only thing that i've found to kill pain is plenty of time. or mj. other than that, the stuff popularly known as pain killers act more like pain maskers. they cover up the hurt for just a few minutes to hours. and usually something that would naturally keep a person physically happy is compromised via "side effects" anyway. i have no idea.

people talking all the time. guesses. assumptions. i can hear the useless buzzing, all of it, all around me. they have no idea.

q & i totally get each other these days.

celebrating the win q steez.

straw.

avec david on their play-date.
(they slap each other on the buns every so often. is that how it goes these days?)

take another picture.

all of her chess club awards.
she came out of her room walking around like this.

full circle.

i'm not sure what to say. i'm reminded of my dad-in-law's story of nixon's resignation in 1974. i believe he was in ghana working for the peace corps when he heard the news. after six years of protesting tricky dick's evil ways, what got charles at the news of the resignation was that he had no reaction after all. i guess that's the best way to explain how i feel right now. life really does go on.

i'll leave the rest to destiny.

as far as prop. 8 goes, i find its passing ridiculously ironic. the irony really being this marriage bullshit. the traditional (read: religious) institution of marriage is in dire need of a makeover. yes, its restriction to being only between a man & a woman, but especially the vows aspect. while its poetry remains beautiful & absolutely significant, the traditional route is just unrealistic; the terms too broad. the very things that make us human: evolution; our ability to think abstractly; limits... the institution does not address the human element at all. this is where the real debate lies.

come to think of it, how is nobody talking about this? what the fuck, is there some sort of wedding-planner lobby on the Hill or what? i wouldn't be surprised. family law wouldn't exist without it. but for real though. enough about gays. think about all the closet wives/husbands-who-aren't-happy-but-are-staying-in-the-marriage-for-the-sake-of-tradition (religion). "until death do us part?" great idea. but then again, it doesn't apply to anything human. not to mention, it's a bit stalker too, no?

and the idea of fidelity? who's kidding who here. the tradition of marriage basically pits us against ourselves on this one. de nuevo, the institution takes everything that's basic human instinct and tells us, no we can't be human after all. (oh wait, when men do it, they're human. when women do it, we're sluts.)

that, or mackenzie & i are really going to burn in hell.

anyway, i'd like to consider myself an optimistic realist. california has some of the best lawyers around, and i don't doubt that prop. 8 will be repealed. suckas!

for some reason, the one person that keeps coming to mind today is hunter s. thompson. surprisingly i'm getting choked up over his death only now, almost four years later.

"our trip was different. it was to be a classic affirmation of everything right and true in the national character. a gross physical salute to the fantastic possibilities of life in this country. but only for those with true grit." (fear and loathing in las vegas, 1972)

lovely.

i guess that's the best way to describe the start of my week.

bittersweet is another way.

with everything that's defined as good, there is the also the definable not-so-great.

fuck definitions. c'est la vie.

don't think. drive.
from canoga park to el segundo via mulholland hwy.





"life will give you whatever experience is most helpful for the evolution of your consciousness. how do you know this is the experience you need? because this is the experience you are having at this moment." (eckhart tolle, a new earth)

i got the job! (now i have to pass a drug test. ahhh hahaha).

truth.

frankness
integrity
authenticity
actuality.
this is really happening.

i'm in l.a. for good.







for now.

i live in the room i grew up in in my parents' house. while my car might not like the wear (mileage is a woman's wrinkle) i do love being home. where else would i be right now.

there's something to be admitted about the active pursuit of happiness.

letting go.

i left my heart in barcelona. i knew i'd feel this way soon enough. waking up to cars honking & the alarm clock playing essential astrud gilberto. sleepwalking into my huge shower, toothbrush in hand. perusing yahoo weather, my mood & whowhatwear for outfit inspiration. vitamins & juice rushing out the door. bicing or metro to paseo de gracia. running errands all over town (okay, i admit, with scenes of "the devil wears prada" as my motivation). the occasional counting nine hours back & painting hand-taking scenarios as i discover new parts of town. bicing the coast route home. my kitchen. the most essential: no tan lines.

letting go. l.a. is the only place i could be right now. tans lines for an almost endless summer, the ultimate trade-off.

active pursuit of laughter. knowing what i want. sometimes it's as simple as going where i think i want to be. and going from there. i am the anti-planner.

like halloween, por ejemplo. the idea was to check out the skirball. bro in l.a. being the motivation. as soon as vanessa, mia & i entered the parking lot, we already weren't sure about the vibe. hotbox & let's see. still not really feeling it. let's get in line & see how fast it moves. i can hear the music & already i hear a song i don't like. hmmm.. should we leave? i don't know, is that cool with you? i'm cool with that if you don't mind. is it just me or are you guys not feeling this either? okay, let's bounce. so we did. surface mulholland to silverlake.

short stop ended up being exactly what we needed after all. the dj. his set was like... really good sex. good god.

i realized that my costume was like a pop art test. do you get me? those who didn't thought i was a sixties hippie/protester. (rolling my eyes).

while waiting for our bacon-wrapped hot dogs, one guy asked, "where's john."
i said, "we're separated at the present time."
one guy, "i guess that's a better way of saying, 'yeah, he's dead.'"
too funny.

it was a great way to screen potential love interests, come to think of it.

speaking of art. metaphors. i love them. as long as they connect to some sort of truth... in other words, solve problems. (this entry is full of them). you know, i have to get it. abstract? sure. but obscure? i'm impatient.

thoroughly modern vanessa.


my costume accessory. (only one of the most important works to come from their time)

mmmm rain today ("easy. fantastic. lonely together. painfully tender like the last clap of thunder"). por fin. so lovely. the sound, the chill. the only thing i'm missing is a bath tub full of steaming water, bubbles & jasmine essential oils to go with my good book (right now: norman mailer's "miami and the siege of chicago").