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A girl living, loving and writing in Los Angeles.
August Listening
August Reading
Favorite Places
Copyright 2001 - 2008 by Ann, unless otherwise noted.
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Tuesday, November 30, 2004
"Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word" (covered) by Mary J. Blige
The Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason soundtrack is a really good pop compilation full of good covers. Mmm I love good pop music.
The film itself was also fantastic; but what film wouldn't be fantastic with Colin Firth chasing Hugh Grant into a water fountain to the tune of the Darkness' "I Believe In A Thing Called Love"? I think that was the best sequence I have seen, ever. 2004 has been a good year for films. See the following if you have not already: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Before Sunset, Garden State, Shaun of the Dead, The Incredibles, Finding Neverland.
Also, I'm already a hip mom in training: I just bought myself a subscription to Real Simple. I love the magazine for the Shabby Chic anal. It's replacing my subscriptions to Vogue & Lucky. So now I only have three magazine subscriptions; man I'm such a whore for glossy pictures and pretty design.
The finish line is in sight!
To Do before 12/12
- revise 11 pg personal narrative final
- Children's Literature final paper
- French final of DOOM
- French expose
- French composition 4 revision
- first Vagina Monologues cast meeting!
- work work work
- set up internship schedule for next quarter
- make Christmas cards
- make Christmas list
- start Christmas shopping
- pack for a week of SIMPLE LIFE w/ Gina fun!
"Sympathique" by Pink Martini
"It's you," he said. "Je ne veux pas travailler, je ne veux pas dejeuner, je veux seulement oublier. Et puis, je fume"
"So it is." I replied.
Monday, November 29, 2004
"You're perfect," He murmured into my stomach.
I stared at the ceiling and thought to myself, Then why isn't perfect good enough?
Film ruled 'not French enough'.
Really? France is disowning Jean-Pierre Jeunet? Damn those effing elitists. Damn the taint of Hollywood ruining everything.
Whatever, I'll never be French enough so I'll continue to be a huge Francophile.
"Get Gone" by Fiona Apple
I'm so fucked up. I need to kick myself in the head.
Same old story, same old story, same old story.
In the moments the wishy washy optimism fades into cynicism (some call it reality?): what am I living for anymore?
Saturday, November 27, 2004
So the stormy weather has thrown a wrench into what would have been a beautiful evening in L.A. with my girlsoul Nicole. But I guess I'd rather be alive than a smear on the wet pavement because people don't know how to drive in the rain.
I did spend a lovely afternoon in a temporarily relocated Anthropologie, browsing their goods and fondling their wares. I adore adore adore that store so much for its atmosphere, I want to work for their visual department so badly. I love the stacks of lush interesting books next to piles of cozy knit scarves; the delicate wire racks of baubles and racks of beautiful coats and skirts and knits - oh my! That combined with the light scent of gardenia and roses; French music and The Postal Service playing; patchwork covered couches with pretty dogs fannying about; this is my future apartment. It makes me want my own apartment so badly right now because the apartment I'm living in right now is way too cheesy to adapt any type of sweet character. Maybe I will do something about another corner of the house and convert the nook into a little reading haven; bloom where I'm planted. Good thing I'm so broke ass poor right now.
I don't know how I always conveniently forget that coming home drives me into deep bouts of depression.
Friday, November 26, 2004
"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes 'Awww!'"
-- Jack Kerouac
"Daughters" by John Mayer
After all these years, sensitive skinny guitar/singer/songwriter guys still make me weak in the knees. I'm watching John Mayer on Letterman, and I take back what I said about meeting him a dark alley. If I ran into him in a dark alley and he said to me, "Hey baby, your body is a wonderland", I'd still kick him, but instead of running away I'd probably feel a little guilty and take him home. As long as he plays a little ditty on the guitar before I send him on his way the next morning.
Is it too much to ask for a torrid love affair with a beautiful s.s.g/s/s boy -- in which beautiful songs will be written by him about me, and beautiful prose will be written by me during our swell relationship, and then our dramatic break up will be outlined by ugly songs written by him, and ugly prose written by me?
I know a girl
She puts the color inside of my world
She's just like a maze
Where all of the walls all continually change
And I've done all I can
To stand on her steps with my heart in my hands
Now I'm starting to see
Maybe it's got nothing to do with me
P.S. I would also like to date Damien Fahey, aka the new 24 year old hottie mcMTV-to-LA-transplant host of the Late Late Show.
Thursday, November 25, 2004
Happy Thanksgiving!
mark: i don't like what you said though
ann: what did i say?
mark: just your whole le tigre feminist rant
My brother and I watched Finding Neverland this afternoon; my god it's beautiful and it made me cry for the better half of the last half. It helped that I just read Peter Pan for my Children's Literature class.
I'm going to read some more children's lit and continue to be thankful despite a lot of other shit; pretending is a good thing. Dinner soon; celebrating the harvest of our goods and exploitation of immigrant workers. Whoopee.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Thankful.
I must take back a little of what I said: I'm not a manhater. I love boys. I love to love them. I love the way they love girls.
"I love love," she said, closing her eyes. I promised her beautiful love. I gloated over her. Our stories were told; we subsided into silence and sweet anticipatory thoughts. It was as simple as that. You could have all your Peaches and Bettys and Marylous and Inezes in this world; this was my girl and my kind of girlsoul, and I told her that. She confessed she saw me watching her in the bus station. "I thought you was a nice college boy." (Jack Kerouak, On The Road)
As I started to make my list of things to be thankful for, I realized it was growing increasingly long -- and that made me so humble and grateful for everything that is in my life. I am really lucky; as my mom always says to me, "You already live in heaven, what more could you want?" Since so many incredible things have happened this year, I'm going to skip gloating about those, but instead recognize all the incredible people in my life who have made my life a beautiful one.
20 People I Am Thankful For (in no particular order):
01. my super mom - for knowing everything
02. my grandma - for supporting me in every way
03. my family - c'est ma famille
04. Laura - for being a brave little sula
05. Monica - for being the same person
06. Danielle - for painted-red-lips-gorgeous neurotic
07. Justin - for always making me laugh, even when you're not here
08. Whitney - for always being there to hold my hand
09. Nicole - for a perfect fairy
10. Meg - for that beautiful disaster
11. Jessica - for being my funnest, couture-loving friend
12. Gina - for being my psychic twin sister
13. Jason - for being crazy/beautiful
14. Cathy - for the last twelve years
15. April - for your grace and strength as inspiration & the sweetest person I know
16. Vu - for our great conversations
17. Jin - the best partner in crime
18. Carly - for conversations on our Motel 6 beds
19. Ilissa - for sewing hearts to our sleeves
20. You - for touching my life & letting me be in yours.
What are you thankful for?
Monday, November 22, 2004
It's freezing but the warmth of my laptop is thawing me out.
I wanted to go to bed two hours ago, like the old lady I am, but I realized I had to do laundry so I have clothes for work tomorrow.
Then I started talking to some of my favorite people, and it's all downhill from there.
I love my friends; I honestly do. They are some of the most beautiful, amazing people and I wish I could see all of them more often. I am thinking of starting a commune somewhere in southern California and forcing all my friends to live there with me -- they can bring their own friends too, of course, and it'll be like one big community of love.
I wish boys would stop being such assholes. Especially the ones who are hurting my friends. Now I must confess, I am a bit biased because I am a self-admitted man-hater right now. I believe that boys are simple. Reading He's Just Not That Into You is helping me be very practical about boys; if they wanted to be with you, they would be with you. Job issues, money issues, busy issues, emotional unavailability issues, distance issues, commitment issues, issue issues; all code for he is just not that into you. (This also applies to girls, as there have been a few boys who have been into me who I was just not that into). If he wanted to be with you, he would BE WITH YOU. Now say it to yourself, believe it, and know that you are someone worth all the attention, love, and words that you deserve.
One might say that I demand too much from boys, and then point out that's why I've been single the past couple years.
That is so discrediting to life. This is why: because this is our only life (as far as we know, and if you can provide me theories otherwise, I would gladly open my mind). Why waste any time on stupid boys who don't call, have one month rules, aren't emotionally available, play shitty games? Also: why waste time with boring boys who don't make you weak in the knees, hoping someday maybe you will grow to love them? Are we all waiting to grow old to continue waiting, to continue feeling underappreciated by fucktards, waiting & feeling guilty about letting some poor kid waste his emotions on you when you're just not that into him, & you're just waiting for something better to come along?
Fuck that. What's wrong with being alone then? I have been single for the past two years because I could never once commit myself to the idea/label of "girlfriend" to any of the five boys I had been involved with. I'm still waiting for butterflies. I've learned a lot from these random boys despite our ambiguous relationship to each other. I'm not settling for a boy who doesn't make me weak in the knees anymore. I'm much happier spending my time reading, spending my money buying myself pretty things, and laughing with my great girlfriends (who I hope will also be so open minded, strong, and independent to value their own worth to not settle for anything less than butterflies).
I have notorious five minute crushes; most of the time I've learned to maintain a safe distance from my crushes because once I bridge that gap, I find that 99% of the crushees bore me to tears. There has been one boy out of the 5,000 (not exaggerating) boys I have crushed on since college started that I have actually been that into after speaking with him. Sadly, he is on tour with his band for the next year. And I don't think he's that into me.
So many girls devalue their own worth to be with someone just to be with someone, and that is so not worth it to me. It's because they love their shithead boys that they will put up with the lack of appreciation, the withdraw of attention. They turn it onto themselves, blame themselves for everything that goes wrong, for everything they want but aren't getting from their significant other. Trust me, I've been in that vicious cycle. I don't believe in it anymore.
I trust that I am fabulous. We all are. It's just the nature of girls, we have the fabulous gene in us. I can laugh at falling on my ass, I'm not afraid to make mistakes, I would jump on a train out of this town in a heartbeat with a toothbrush in hand. I cook (okay, follow directions), clean, bake, drive, hug, love, listen, smile, read, create, write, paint, laugh at all the stupid jokes, cuddle, call, sit in comfortable silence. I like crazy delicious kisses, and I like spending all day in bed. I'm a crazy adventure, I'm crazy adventurous. But I want to be taken on an adventure, I don't want to be the adventure. I am also insane, but I keep that to myself and you would love me for it if you choose to love me at all.
And it's perfectly okay if you don't.
Because there will be boys that I'm just not that into; and I'm not going to feel guilty about it anymore. It's okay to feel that way; it's not okay to settle. For me, I need a boy who makes me weak in the knees, who makes me swoon every day, who remembers my birthday because it is sillily important to me, who wants to take the time to get to know me and be in my life. I don't just want someone who loves me a lot, I want someone who can love me well. Or at least tries his hardest to.
But I'm not waiting for anything.
Why be with anyone who makes us feel less than what we really are? So please ladies, all my fabulous girls in the world, trust that you are fabulous. You are fabulous, and you are worth the butterflies. Or in the words of Tristan Prettyman: "get it straight fucker, this girl is champagne, not 2 buck chuck from Trader Joe's."
I'm a terrible coveter of things. I cannot go one day without spending money lately, and that is truly sick. I bought a new pair of shoes & Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events today. It probably does not help that I opened a Victoria's Secret Angels card yesterday. Ever since I did some house cleaning to dump out unhealthy junk lying around my heart, I found a deep hole that I'm filling with books and shoes. I buy love.
I love children's books lately; probably because of my Children's Lit class that I'm taking (at least that's my cover). Whitney and I were delightfully pouring over the children's section at Barnes & Nobles today; I can't wait until I have children of my own so I can read to them and share my growing collection with them (that's my justification for buying so many children's books). I ran into Jin, of all international girls of mystery, at the bookstore and we proceeded to spend the next hour shopping and catching up. She agreed that it was very strange for me to be in the marriage-baby zone. I hate the biological chemicals kicking in.
Sunday, November 21, 2004
"Geek in the Pink" by Jason Mraz
I don't care what you might think about me
You'll get by without me if you want
I could be the one to take you home
Baby we could rock the night alone
If we never get down
It shouldn't be the let down
But sugar, don't forget what you already know
I could be the one to turn you out
We could be the talk across the town
Don't judge it by the color,
Confuse it for another
You might regret what you let slip away
A Room of One's Own
I know that home is where the heart is. We've all heard that; and we all know that we find ourselves at home with the people we love.
But I'm talking physical space here. My physical space has no heart. I need one. I'm living in a very glamorous apartment complex this year with four very sweet girls. Danielle even dubbed it the Bellagio. But I am also living in a cubicle -- I sleep on a loft and hold my little office underneath in the master bedroom I share with two other girls. There is a ton of space in this apartment -- none of which I can call my own. I am most comfortable in this little corner space I made for myself that is no wider than 6' x 4'.
And that is what bothers me. This space does not feel like a home, and it's not just because of the temporality of my lease here or the lack of community with my roommatees (I am very comfortable with maintaining the roommate-relationship distance we have because we are very different people). La Jolla is so frou frou that I want to throw up. It is equal parts careless college students and the carelessly rich. The only culture here is the practically privately funded Theater district on campus & in the organic yogurt at Whole Foods. I hate driving to campus -- Jessica calls it a "thoroughfare". It's so banal, so full of strip malls and generic stucco apartment buildings; I call it hell.
So this isn't about shitty roommates or craphole apartments. It's about my desperate need for a space of my own: a place I can decorate with shelves and shelves of beautiful books, line the walls with photographs, and raise a small herb garden on the kitchen windowsill. A lovely place so that when my friends visit they actually want to take off their shoes and stay for awhile. Where the music playing isn't about Jesus, the number of people outnumber the number of Bibles/empty beer bottles lying around, and the empty blank walls are full of color and postcards from friends and exotic places.
I hope I can make it through the next six months in this complex -- it's safe and cheap -- cheaper than breaching my leasing contract early. I know that if I move to a studio closer to downtown (which is the plan for next year), I will diminish my chances of subletting in LA next summer, which would break my little heart. So let's toughen up, heart, and move along. I know having 18 units + 1 newspaper job + 1 barista job + 1 marketing internship + performance rehearsals will make a very exhausted girl who can find just enough time to come home to pass out in the dismal cubicle where the dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had -- at least for the next three months.
Friday, November 19, 2004
Hurray new layout!
Thursday, November 18, 2004
New decade, fresh start, guilty pleasure.
I'm terribly terribly guilty of indulging in Blogger again. After using it to update things like my notebook, and other personal pages I keep for myself, I couldn't help but fall for its new interface. I have hidden inside greymatter for so long I forgot what it was like to be part of a living interface; it feels nice to be brought forward to the future.
So here I am, also terribly guilty of indulging in one of Blogger's generic templates before I have time to polish off my own.
But I'm bursting with words, with just a week off from the site, and I'm ready to start again: looking back at the tattooed history of my past four years archived on this site, I'm ready to document a new decade in my life: my twenties. Hopefully just as full of laughter, stories, tears, friends, quotes, heartbreak, passion, & my favorite: love.
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