Category Archives: life

For when I get philosophical about my apartment, job, boyfriend, etc. Big picture stuff.

goodness, life, manfolk, nerd

QR birthday

it's a secret code. it says... burfdah.

Today is Boyfriend’s birthday!  Apparently his parents didn’t make a big deal out of birthdays when he was growing up, so I take it upon myself every year to do something special for him.  Last year was a surprise party with Sprinkles cupcakes and about thirty people.  The year before… can’t remember, but I know I had a few things for him to unwrap (Hellboy?).  It must have been epic to have escaped my memory so thoroughly.

I didn’t get anything for him this year.  He doesn’t like collecting crap, so you can’t just buy anything.  For the surprise party, I told everyone to bring one pair of socks since he needed some, and now he’s flush.  This year I made up for a lack of wrapping paper with an abundance of nerd-inspired artistic creativity.  I generated a bunch of QR codes that read as little messages when decoded with an iPhone, wishing him happy birthday, and telling him about my plans for his birthday (DAIKOKUYA, driving my car while I sing happy birthday to him, etc.).

It was Diminutive Roommate’s idea to color them in, but omg it took forever.  I always underestimate how much time an art project will take me.  It’s crazy how time just slips away.  I started watching Kaze no Stigma last night as I colored.  I can’t decide if it’s funny, or the next generation of Fruits Basket.

I printed them out at work, colored them at home, woke up early and cut them out at his place, then closed myself in the closet and taped them up in a swirly pattern.  I snapped a photo while he asked for water (“Ok baby, one second…”).  Tee hee!

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goodness, life, nerd

I’m an egg driving an egg

ABSOLUTELY NOT

I got my car last week, and it is… just awesome.  I haven’t posted it about so far because I’ve been getting a feel for it, and didn’t want to jinx it by saying I loved it, only to discover some horrible flaw.

It’s such a fun car.  I chuckle  every time I glance behind me as I walk away from it; it’s so tiny, but it doesn’t feel small once I’m inside.  The trompe l’oeil is titillating.  I’ve spent the last week drive an unusually large amount.  I drove over to my folks’ place just to have cereal.  I’ve spent the past week sleep over at boyfriend’s place because the drive is no longer arduous.    My little Italian car.  I’m enjoying it so much.

The engine makes this nice little purring sound when I accelerate through first gear.  The wheel turns so easily at low speeds, I’m still getting used to it.  The little blinkers on either side of the car are adorable and bright.  The horn is polite and fully ignorable (might have to change that).  The sound system’s fidelity is like crystal.  The turning radius is laughably awesome.  I loaded the back with my first groceries last night; they fit with plenty of room to spare.

I had to break in the engine by driving under 60mph for the first hundred or so miles.  That was an educational experience.  I’ve re-discovered a quiet level of gut-wrenching that I haven’t experienced since I first started driving.  Even in the slow lane, irritated drivers tailgate, then zoom past me, furious that I would obey the speed limits in an obviously new car.  I’ve been cut off several times because I don’t bother speeding up to stop the offenders.  I can’t risk anyone tapping my beautiful new machine; plus I’m leaving the turbo button alone for now, and don’t have the pickup without it to cause any real trouble.

Surprisingly, I’ve actually enjoyed driving more slowly.  The whole experience of the car is heightened and stress-free.  I’m going to have to spend more time in the middle lanes.  The day I got it, on my drive home from Boyfriend’s place, a man in a Mercedes pulled up next to me at a stop light and asked me how much it was, and whether I liked it.  I was all smiles.

No one else has driven it yet, though I’m going to offer the keys to Boyfriend for his birthday tomorrow.  He’s such a cautious driver, and I’ve never sat in the passenger seat.  Should be a fun time.

SIDE NOTE: I cannot wait to illustrate the title.  Should be amazing.  I have a vision!

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goodness, life

Endless clutter: A lifestyle

I totally had this book. and it taught me nothing.

I spend a good amount of time wishing I were someone else.  Or maybe not a fully different person with a different apartment, family, jobs, etc., but wishing I could be better.  I daydream about being the kind of person who folds her clothes as she changes out of them every time, who is bothered by the clutter on her desk at work.  In short, I wish I gave enough of a shit to put in the effort to live the way I’d like to: neatly.  I wish I were neater.  I live in an endless state of clutter.  Now and then I say I’m going to change and that now is my chance to really change my habits.

At this very moment, my desk is covered with (among other things): two chops I got in China with my name on them, a journal I sketch animals in, a pair of sunglasses, my digital camera, a postit pad I got as swag at ComicCon, a book on ancient Akkadian, a pair of earrings, two empty boxes for holding glasses, two piggy banks (although only one is shaped like a pig), a plastic chibi figurine of Kakashi from Naruto, two plastic cats (one is asleep in a bucket), five Beastlies, a tachicoma, a small bowl of vitamins I’ve stopped taking, a stamp with two concentric circles (to see if I’ll get that tattoo), a script (Buffy I think?), a few hair ties, a flash drive, an old bluetooth earpiece, a couple of business cards, first class stamps (with the liberty bell on them), two old beads (one lapis lazuli, and one citrine), three pencils and two erasers.

The rest of my room has two obsolete lcd monitors, two old towers, my painted helmet, an acoustic guitar I bought years ago but never played, my old bed spread (trash), enough clothes to almost hide the leather chair, Boyfriend’s vacuum, old cds, obsolete wires for various electronics, and an old purse.

Why don’t I just throw this stuff away?  Because I’m always too busy enjoying myself.  I’m writing blog posts, or watching anime (just this afternoon I sat down and watched The Secret of Kells, and it was totally worth it).  I’m reading a book, or spending time playing board games with friends.  I’m at Boyfriend’s place killing zobos or having a lovely meal.  I spend my time wishing I could be someone who cleans up after herself all the time, but I look around my room with a kind of affectionate disgust.  I see, through the mess, three full bookshelves, an antler I found in a dried-up riverbed near Lake Echo in Tasmania, my parents’ old elephant bookends, my grandmother’s tiny salt and pepper shakers, a hutch my father build with his own hands in our old garage, a hairy rug with a sleepy cat on it.  I see a desk covered in memories (that clay whistle shaped like a bird I was given as a gift in the Apuseni Mountains of Romania, that small bronze statue of the bathing woman my parents gave me so thoughtfully, that mousepad printed with a painting by Rousseau that my parents used to have at their apartment in Beverly Hills).  I see my old things like an old dog that walks beside me, licking my hand occasionally, reminding me of that time when…

But I won’t pretend that neglecting to tidy up is the mature thing to do.  I’m a child, I guess.  I’d just rather be outside playing than cleaning up my room.

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badness, goodness, life

Progress

I don’t often post my political views since I know what they are, and this is meant to be a journal of sorts to help me remember my life as it is today.  I guess I just assume I’ll always feel the way I do about important issues.  Then again, I used to be anti-death penalty.  So I suppose things change.

New York legalized same-sex marriage recently, and people are pretty excited about it.  California must be next.  We’re so close.  The opposition seems hateful, afraid, and for the most part, incapable of logically explaining why they believe the gay community shouldn’t be able to marry.

supporters brought umbrellas to shield the couples waiting in line at city hall from protesters with "god hates fags" signs

Then again, there are stories like these where Jerry Sanders, the conservative Republican mayor of San Diego, held a press conference to explain his about-face on the issue of same-sex marriage, and broke down in front of reporters as he talked about gay family and coworkers from whom he could no longer withhold the privilege of marriage.

The day after the election that put Obama into office, the second headline on the front page predicted Proposition 8 to pass.  Devastated and incredulous, I read the headline through the plastic door of a newspaper stand on the sidewalk, and wept openly.  Later that day, while sitting at my desk at Real Estate Job, I got a text from a number I didn’t recognize asking me (and others) to meet at Santa Monica Blvd. and San Vicente to protest.  By 9pm, we had blocked off traffic along Santa Monica, and began marching east.

that traffic wasn't going anywhere

I walked alone in the crowd, chatting with random protesters and snapping photos.  I overheard two lesbians in front of me releasing their frustration: “It’s all the straight people who voted against us.  I bet there aren’t even any straight people here.”  I had to speak up: “I’m straight!” I yelled.  A small radius of people around me let out a cheer as the two women turned to see who had shouted with a mixture of bemusement and shock.  They hugged me and thanked me, but could not forgive the straight community for butting into their personal lives.  I couldn’t really blame them.  They were right.

At some point during the protest, the police asked us to stay out of the street.  Most of us listened, a couple were arrested (and loudly supported) as they shouted “Gay, straight, black, white, marriage is a civil right!”  I was so impressed by the police.  They were very patient, and gentle with the people they arrested.  They clearly just wanted us to get our protest done without any problems or violence.

This story posted yesterday on BBC News about two women who got married in New York is just fantastic.  Yeah, I cried a little.  They’re just so happy.

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goodness, life

Tea, Earl Grey, hot

I find it hard to believe that I’ve never written about how much I love tea.

I love tea.

blue flowers are apparently delicious

I love the civility of it, watching it steep, smelling the leaves, going to tea shops and perusing each glass jar (or giant tin) for the perfect herbal blend (I have yet to find a decaffeinated tea I really enjoy).  But I know very little about tea, so let’s get briefly Wiki-educated:

All tea is made from the same plant, and according to the method used to process the leaves, can be used to make Black, Green, Yellow, White, Oolong, or something called “post-fermented tea,” which sounds gross.  Different water temperatures are ideal for brewing each type of tea.  In the United States, most tea is consumed cold, as iced tea, while in Asian/Middle Eastern countries, hot tea is consumed daily in almost all households, and offered to guests as they first enter.  I wish we did that here.  Thus ends the lesson.

Moroccan tea cups look something like this

I found a delicious Earl Grey with blue flowers from a tea shop on Melrose called T Salon that has since closed.  I still struggle with spelling gray with an ‘a’.  I have Tazo Earl Grey just about every morning at Office Job.

I have vivid memories of drinking piping hot, super sweet tea at the Moroccan restaurant in Paris with my family in 1997, along with a dessert of sweet, ground-up meat wrapped in filo pastry with powdered sugar and a bit of chocolate drizzled on top (the kids all knew it was pigeon and ate it anyway).  That was my first experience of Moroccan tea.  Now, every year for my birthday we go to Tagine, a small Moroccan place where we always have some hot, sweet tea.

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goodness, life

Mushy heart-shaped mush

what a fucking mess

Boyfriend is never far from my thoughts these days.  He pops into my head at random parts of the day.  I was wondering why I’m so hungry today after finishing lunch, and suddenly I’m thinking about how much I love him.  This has been happening a lot recently.

We’ve chatted a few times about how happy we are together, and how we hope to stay together forever.  At first he thought I was talking about getting married soon, like this year.  I’m not trying to get married right now, and as soon as I said so, we were  on the same page again.  As long as we’re happy, we’ll be together.

All the same, I’m trying to hold back from telling him too much about how often he sporatically pops into my thoughts (I mentioned it to him last night, and he seemed pleased).  Still, I don’t want to freak him out by being all, “OMG UR MY WIDDLE POOPOO, I WUV U THIIIIIIIIISH MUUUUUCH” all the time.

Not that I would.  Just sayin’.

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goodness, life

New Atheist role models

so true

A great article about the social and biological roots of religion was published in the LA Times a couple days ago.  I’m always surprised and delighted to find people working at major companies (like the LA Times) who are willing to have their (very unpopular) opinions against religion published.  I find it soothing.  J. Anderson Thomson and Clare Aukofer, you’ve made it onto my list of respected people.

My favorite part of the article:

“We can be better as a species if we recognize religion as a man-made construct. We owe it to ourselves to at least consider the real roots of religious belief, so we can deal with life as it is, taking advantage of perhaps our mind’s greatest adaptation: our ability to use reason.”

And that really sums it up; an Atheist chooses reason over blind faith, not for the sake of cold cynicism, but for a love of logic.

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goodness, life

UPS adventure!

I love having random adventures.  Discovering amazing little pockets of Los Angeles that I knew nothing about doesn’t happen every day; I know this city pretty well.  So I get pretty excited when I encounter something unexpected, which usually results in an…

ADVENTURE!  YAAAAY!

Why is it always the case that I have adventures like this when I’m forced to go pick up a package?  This time it was a UPS facility northeast of downtown that couldn’t seem to properly deliver a box of soap from Bigelowe & Co. (for Boyfriend) that I had bought a month prior (and had already been stolen off my doorstep once).

When I got there, I discovered while waiting in the lobby these neat little rolly things they use to roll packages around with ease.

i played with them when noone was looking

On my drive there, I passed this weird little sign that said “Apothecary Fairy,” which is apparently a skin-care company that sells lotions, soaps, rubs, candles and other stinky crap to scare men out of your bathroom.

semi-legible = edgy!

I decided to pull over on my way back to investigate.  I’m so glad I did, because I discovered The Brewery, which is an ART COLONY, which I put in caps to try to keep myself from laughing when I say it or read it (to no avail).  An ART COLONY (teehee!) is (as far as I can tell) like an ant colony, but instead of ants working endlessly on unique, but in the end pointless creations, it’s people (zing!).  And they live in this area of Los Angeles I’ve never seen before.  And I’m kinda jealous, because it looks awesome.

pfft, obviously

There’s a really neat balance of metal and organic sitting around, enjoying a kind of harmony.

"oh, is there ivy taking over the building? I didn't notice; I was so busy CREATING."

Having said that, everything looks very intentionally abandoned, which I kinda hate because then it’s fake, and loses it’s mystery.  It’s like steampunk threw up all over everyone’s front lawn, then sat and rusted for a while.

seriously... what is that doing there.

But happening upon an area like this by chance was still super fun.  There was a little cafe, and this miniature grassy park area!

surely, the small stone bench at the other end was littered with cigarette butts

And a tiny rocket car!  I really wanted to ask someone about this, but I figured I was already potentially trespassing on private property just by being there, so drawing attention to the fact that I (an ordinary outsider) was taking dozens of photos of their shit was not on the menu.

i could have escaped in it! p-chow! zoom!

And a Caterpillar!  Like everything else on the property, I wondered how it had ended up there, but somehow this one totally fascinated me.  Who had driven in last?  What did they haul around?  Did it still work?  It had to weigh a ton, how would they move it?

curiouser and curiouser

And this old car! This one looks totally intentionally placed, and didn’t exactly charm the pants off me.  Old cars are just so fun to look at though, I couldn’t resist.

i like to think the palm tree and car struck up an unlikely friendship

Next to the car was a Mexican man who asked me for the time.  I said, “A las una,” then, “Puedo tomar un foto del coche?”  Hooray!  I speak the Spanish!  Watchless Mexican did not give two shits that I had mastered Spanish I, and went back to shining these pieces of copper, seemingly for an art project.

i resisted the urge to TOUCH ALL OF THEM

Near the copper-shining-Mexican was a giant piece of what can only be described as a huge piece of totally unnecessary metal machinery.  I chuckled aloud as I wondered how many people had accidentally backed up into it as they parked in one of the few official parking lots I could find.

railroad machinery?

I realized as soon as I set eyes on it that the Brewery smoke stack is a landmark I’ve seen before, though I can’t recall where.  I had suddenly found familiar ground in a wasteland of intentionally derelict buildings and pieces of Americana.

ironically, there were no brewerys nearby...

It topped off this really neat, giant building which may have honestly been a steel refinery at some point, and has actually been abandoned, as interior photos clearly showed.

free tetanus shot with every lease signing!

I found an official entrance to the compound (which distinctly said “PRIVATE PROPERTY”), and right outside, down the block was an Aikido dojo.

it too looked semi-abandoned

I threw on my hazard lights, jumped out to grab an inevitably poorly-written brochure, and drove toward a busy street, thinking my thoroughly satisfying adventure had drawn to a close.  But no!  If you had told me that the last photo I would take that day was of a giant, half-finished carousel horse surrounded by shipping crates, I would have said, “You’re crazy, Sam I Am.”

and it looked just pissed, btw

I drove a little, stopped to wander around and take some photos, then jumped back in the car to find the next out of place, rusty thing.  I was a little late to get pho with my dad in Silverlake at Pho Cafe, but it was worth it, and then I got to see my dad.

What a great adventure!

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badness, life

Evolution, please come back

Scully, the religious scientist, disapproves of your lack of brainpower/faith

Atheists are the least trusted group in America, seemingly because of our lack of any moral compass.  This hurts my feelings (and my brain’s feelings) because it implies that no one can come up with their own sense of right and wrong; morals must come from a third party because observation and critical, independent thinking aren’t enough to create one’s own moral structure.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that what bothers people most about Atheists isn’t that they think we have no morals, it’s that we don’t have a unified set of morals.  Each Atheist must create her own idea of what it means to be a “good person.”  Free thought is encouraged, even demanded, and as a result, we inherently have no guidebook for what it means to be an Atheist.

Picard and Riker, a powerhouse atheist facepalming duo!

If there are no rules, it must be chaos!  Atheists must therefore be anarchists!  But no, of course we’re not.  We love logic and science, and welcome theory change through careful study and blahblahblah.  We don’t need answers to the big questions (which we can’t possibly know for sure).

As a result, however, there’s this bizarre attitude of, “I don’t know (or need to know) everything, and that makes me better than you.”  It’s a conundrum: I’m not so special that the supposed creator of the universe listens to my every thought, and therefore I’m super special.  I have no ego, therefore I’m the best; deal with it.  LOL

I’m guilty of this for sure, and I’m fully aware of the absurdity of it, so… I am an anarchist!  Crap!

it's MASH or something! and they are so, so disappointed.

No no, there’s an explanation, and here it is: I love what my brain is capable of discovering on its own, and I pity people who don’t feel the same about their own incredible thinking power.  The thought process is, “Look how awesome my brain is!  Hey guys, you have brains too!  Wait, what?  You don’t want to use them? *sigh* Guys…WTF.”  It’s not that I feel superior, I just don’t see why logic fails to pervade religious thought when it’s applied so readily in every other aspect of our lives.  Why does anyone swear on a bible in a courtroom when the rest of the proceedings are based on secular law?

I’m not mad, I’m just… disappointed.

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