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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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Wednesday, August 31, 2005
The Kids Are Alright
My roommate is hilarious.
Shauna: also, i was researching cleaning supplies
Shauna: and theres this brand
Shauna: thats natural and good for the environment
Shauna: and if we eat it for some reason itll be ok
Two days until our lease begins in our little apartment two blocks from the beach.
Lake Louise
Canada was beautiful, and it was actually incredibly nice to spend a whole week with just my family.
We spent a day in Vancouver, a day in Victoria, and four days in the Rocky Mountains. The people are incredibly genuine and kind, my favorite.
I don't really know what else to say right now. Nothing appropriate for public weblogging that is. I've been writing a lot, and it feels so good.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Canada & cancer.
The last week has been the last day of work, blood tests, urgent care clinics, and packing. I'm going to Vancouver in 5 hours, for 6 days, and I'm less than thrilled. Canada was definitely not on my top ten of places I wanted to travel to for the next 5 years, and traveling with family is a bit like a Sedaris vignette -- while amusing to audiences, it is quite painful to live through.
And then after Canada, I get to come home to a gastrointestinal endoscopy, my new apartment, and interviews for new jobs. Life is just checks and balances, I guess.
Look forward to new photographs next week. Til then, have a good day and a pleasant tomorrow.
Sunday, August 21, 2005
The Cat's Meow
As it turns out, I'm allergic to cats.
Last night I played with Justin's new cat Chloe/Pork while we watched Sin City (whoops I forgot how gory this film was, and just how much I love it) and ate donuts (yes, plural donuts). Chloe has a poor ugly lion's cut and looks like a hairless Mexican cat who just got gastric bypass surgery with her loose skin hanging everywhere. Therefore Justin hates her and keeps pushing her away, so I took her into my lap. She was so cute sleeping in my lap for the rest of the night.
And then I woke up this morning with red patches all over my neck and arms! That demon cat!
Now I'm just browsing my favorite sites: getcrafty.com & craftster.org, determined to make an eternity scarf & reconstruct some old oversized band shirts. As soon as the Benadryl wears off...
Friday, August 19, 2005
Books I Need To Read/Finish
1. Fight Club, Chuck Palahniuk
2. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Hunter S. Thompson
3. The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera
4. The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho
5. The Prophet, Kahil Gibran
6. Madame Bovary, Gustave Flaubert
7. TimeQuake, Kurt Vonnegut
8. Willful Creatures, Aimee Bender
9. The Beautifully Worthless, Ali Liebegott
10. The Best American Nonrequired Reading of 2004
11. The Elements of Style, Strunk & White
12. Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov
I'm contemplating buying Charles Baxter's Feast of Love. Now that most of my friends have left for school, and my job/classes are over, I'm hoping to make a delicious dent in this list.
I adore the sound of Rufus Wainwright (esp. I Eat Dinner (When The Hunger) w/ Dido) on my stereo and my blinds dancing in the wind. There is no one more exciting than me, oh no there is not.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Don't bring me your bullshit bagels today, thank you.
I have updated the Archives page with most recent months, and I took off all of high school. It's too scary to be publicly relived.
My arm is feeling bruised and sore from the blood tests today; so I might have cancer.
Goddammit if I have cancer, I'm just going to spend the next year traveling through Europe after I graduate. Life is a limited time offer, after all.
I need to live until October 4 so I can grasp Fiona Apple's Extraordinary Machine in my hot little hands; I love me some bitter smart girl piano rock. I don't think any other artist has defined me so well with music.
Charcuterie is one of my favorite french words. And it's not just because it's food related. I just love the way it looks and sounds.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Honestly.
I just spent the last two hours obsessing over one boy who was "the one who got away". I was feeling like complete shit after one of the more trying days at work, and for some reason I started thinking about him. And I googled him. The wonders of the internet.
There will probably be no attempts at contact with him anyway, though. Maybe things get away for a reason, because the reality of the situation could never live up to what could be. And for me, I love living in the what could be so much more than the reality of the situation. I think I may wish that a lot of other guys I've been involved with had also "got away" instead of leaving a mess to clean up. I mean that on so many levels.
But luckily, focusing on someone who made me feel really good with one conversation one idle night three years ago made the tornado in my stomach calm down after the torturous day.
Did I meet you in a sand box?
It is my goal to one day be the one listed for on Missed Connections on craigslist.org.
Monday, August 15, 2005
The People for President Walken
You know, I was just thinking that it would be great if celebrities ruled the world. I mean, we already have the Govenator running California, raising my college tuition at a practically hourly rate and accepting more and more private funding from large corporations with private interests affecting public life. Besides, I think the world would be more likely to bend to our idea of Democratic Utopia when we show them clips of President Walken with human blood dripping from his fangs (a la Sleepy Hollow). It definitely would make me like him and support him fully if he said, "I've got a fever, and the only cure is more cowbell." to the British Prime Minister.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
The Importance of Importance.
Yesterday in my last day of color theory, my professor said to me, "I hope you keep writing." Contemporary American literature deals in a large part with identity -- deliberately or not. People are reading to find a definition of their identity, almost the same way they look to television and film (for a fast food version), and the population of America desperately needs that definition of identity because of the beautiful hodge podge it is. It's difficult to be unique and disparate and beautiful, so writers are very important in helping define what it means to be that. It is personal, and cultural. Readers identify, and we all feel better about ourselves because we're not so goddamn alone.
As she was saying all this to me, it suddenly became very clear why I write things meant to be read, why what I am doing is important. That felt very good.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
This weekend will mark the end of my weekly trip back and forth underneath the runway at LAX. A long orange tunnel landmark of the airport, I had just realized (this summer) that it was the runway I'm driving under. A year ago in June, I was underneath this tunnel on the way to England. A year ago this weekend, I was visiting Edinburgh in the midst of the festival. And I badly sprained my ankle, which still bothers me on cloudy days. And the day after tomorrow, I will be done with one semester of art school.
What a passageway of sorts.
I finished Diary, I did not like it. However, I really like the opening paragraph of Lolita.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Let's become undone
I really really really dislike Nicole Ritchie and her bullshit "reality fiction" book. "Loosely based on her life" and "so cutting edge she's inventing a new genre". If I ran into her in the street, I would vomit all over her face. Actually, I would throw up all over her face regardless of the book. Has anyone seen this sack of bones lately? My stomach has a low tolerance for ugly people. Anyway, what author doesn't base their writing on some aspect of their life? Reality fiction is redundant bullshit. UGH. She MUST BE ENDED.
In hotter celebrity news, I saw Josh Duhamel yesterday on my lunch break. What a tall drink of water.
And because I'm a forty year old spinster full of aphorisms, must see Must Love Dogs soon. John Cusack is my heart, even if he does play the same characters over and over.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Tra la! We got our splendid apartment two blocks from the beach. Signed, sealed, delivered, by tomorrow. I made strawberry banana bread yesterday, and am thinking of making red velvet cake soon. Can't believe everything is coming to a sudden rush of an end. Monica is leaving tomorrow; my classes are over this weekend; my job is over next week; then Canada, then moving into my new apartment. I'm paranoid that it's haunted, so I'll be throwing some rice over my shoulder as I enter, hanging up crystals, and miscellaneous superstitious cleaning-out-the-house-of-evil-spirits things. I've been watching too many Japanese-based horror films.
Spent the last two weeks deliberating over backing up the entire harddrive on my PC. Three years worth of school and life, onto one external harddrive. It's been so weird trying to decide what is important to keep and what isn't. I guess in the end it doesn't really matter, I lost a lot of things when I changed computers back in 2002 before it was as easily accessible to USB port everything. In case you didn't know, my desktop PC decided to break up with the internet two months ago. No wireless, no cable. Nothing. It refuses to speak with the internet, even within mediator grounds. So, a family friend is going to wipe the slate clean. It's almost like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. My computer is going to be wiped of its memory and replaced with a blank canvas like the last three years never happened. And then hopefully it will be tricked into a relationship with the internet again, at which time all my files will have been reloaded onto the new system and all memories of things good and bad will be ready at a click and connectable to the universe. Cross your fingers for me kids, cause I've got lots of great pictures.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
He's the ending of a story I'll never know.
I'm so moved by the people in my life this summer who have come from all walks of life. The sweetest thirtysomething woman in my drawing/composition class teaching me how to be sassy. A firey redhead color theory professor who spills secrets of life. An incredibly motivated one-woman-show co-worker who knows exactly what she wants and where she will be in five years, and doesn't feel the need to step on the little people to get there. One extremely passive aggressive boss and the load of responsibility she gives me that has taught me volumes about dealing in the professional world. The list goes on, but I've learned so much from the people who have fallen into my life in just three months.
It's only been three weeks since I finished Harry Potter & The Half-Blood Prince and I can't remember who the Half-Blood Prince is. It's settled, I'm moving into Leisure World after I graduate.
I also can't believe how incredibly dodgy looking Daniel Radcliffe is now. Talk about peaking at 14. All the shit I talk means nothing though, as I'm still going to be there opening weekend of Goblet of Fire
There are a ton of things I need to do before the end of the summer, which includes: printing a copy of my magazine, making a painting for the apt, cleaning my room, finishing 5 books.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
I'm the chance you chose not to take
It was the coldest night of my life sometime on a February Saturday. I couldn't sleep, even with the person who used to warm my heart with just a silly smile 3000 miles away, next to me. Things were so so so complicated in the mess of my head & of this relationship, that what I really wanted to do was run away even though it was 1 A.M. in a city far far away from anything I knew, and then there would be questions I would have to face. So instead, I slipped on the white earbuds of my iPod and put Love Love Love by Tristan Prettyman on repeat until I didn't feel so goddamn alone and cold in a world for two. It pacified my panic, and eventually lulled me to sleep.
Today I picked up t w e n t y t h r e e, her debut release off of Virgin. I was doubtful of a produced record released on a major label. Two listens to the whole album and I'm floored. The most amazing thing about Ms. Prettyman's music is that the lyrics write everything I've never thought of to make sense of relationships I've had. My favorite song is The Story right now.
So you write the title
I'll write the chapters
We could read a story of love gone disaster
You write the moral
And I'll write the lesson
We could read the love that kept us guessing
"The Story" by Tristan Prettyman
I'm icing on the cake
I'm the secret ingredient you're missing
I'm the sidewalk but I'm not complete
and I'm the reason that baby, you're tripping
Over decisions you didn't make
I'm the chance you chose not to take
And I'm the one you wish you were kissing
Pray for clear skies tonight
You better start wishing
So you write the title
And I'll write the chapters
We could read a story of a love gone disaster
You write the moral
And I'll write the lesson
We could read of love that kept us guessing
Cause I am in question
You are in reason
Soon this will change
Just like the seasons
My leaves will fall
While you're turning cold
The colors on the ground are so bright and so bold
And I'll make no motion
As you hold me tightly
I'll look at you
As you let me down lightly
The story always
Ends up like this
Another opportunity
That you're going to miss
So you write the title
And I'll write the chapters
We can read a story of a love gone disaster
You write the moral
And I'll write the lesson
We can read a love that kept us guessing
But I know you so well
When are you going to come around
But I know you so well
When are you going to come around
You wanted to be like this
I see how it is
Another opportunity
That you're gonna miss.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Working World Ann
I take back my last comment on that previous post. I am ready for the real world, I just may not want to be in it. I am very good with handling phone systems, travel plans, and passive aggressive bosses. I think these are very important skills. I've even realized the need for me to start keeping a contacts list on the computer because I have professional contacts now. Gosh I'm so grown up.
Don't even say the G word to me. Right now I'm thinking about not walking at G...the day in June just because I have a low tolerance for sun & boredom. Class of 700 just in this college; I mean honestly! I really don't care either, as long as I get my diploma and run.
New picture of my hair here on flickr, because I didn't want to see my face everytime I checked the site.
Can someone explain to me why there are fake owls on buildings/streetlamps etc.? Is this some sort of good luck charm?
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
This isn't a Pretty Story, this is a Love Story.
The problem with writing is that everyone you know wants a part. It's like being a director and your cousin's wife's step-niece wants a supporting role. Even if you don't write a part based on anyone, they will still start casting the roles, filling spaces of characters with wholes of real people. Except for the few people who have been in my writing classes the past two years, I am very uncomfortable with people I know reading what I write because I know for some small part, they are reading what I say through characters in the world I created as how I feel about the circumstances of this world (whatever this reality chooses to be).
I mean, I know that's what I do when I read stories of people when I know their backgrounds. While studying magical realism in comparative perspective last summer, we had to know the backgrounds of Gabriel Garcia-Marquez, Ben Okri, and Salman Rushdie. Their histories had to be twisted all over our final papers, our exam essays. Many of my lit classes involved the personal lives of authors, interrelating it to their work. Is this some math to make sense of fiction? A science to break down something unquantifiable, inexplicable -- bleach it simple?
So is fiction, in fact, non-fiction?
In that case, I never want to meet Chuck Palahniuk as his life seems to be a series of most unfortunate events and people. (I'm halfway through Diary). Quite honestly though, my last few fictional pieces have not been based on any circumstances in my life. I'm more of an overzealous make-believer anyway though.
When people depart from what they know, you have what I read in terrible scripts everyday at the office. Terrible stereotypes, terrible sentence structure, unoriginal cliche movie moments. I brought up the fact that none of the scripts I read in the office have been as good as the worst script I read in my scriptwriting classes -- so the office told me to forward any scripts I read & like for consideration.
I really do like my job when I'm at the office, and when the producer is not being passive aggressive. I supremely do not like my job when I am in the LA traffic (there is traffic to get ANYWHERE), and when my boss is being passive aggressive. I like the people I work with, and I like that I see Don Cheadle and Jesse Bradford on idle weekday mornings and afternoons. I like and I hate that I have a ton of responsibility. Man oh man, I am not ready for the real world.
Please don't tell him that I miss him...cause I don't.
Because it's been brought to my attention that I don't talk about how I spend my days enough, here is a recount of today.
Margarita Monday, first of all. Two dollar margaritas at Acapulco, in which we all united in the fashion we've been doing all summer (we being Laura, Monica, Justin, & I). And margaritas for the three of them and iced tea for me because of the reason. Monica is going back to school in a little over a week, which is a big red flag of the beginning of the end. No more summer vacations, no more idle days of swimming and eating and shopping, and parental income. Later, at Monica's house, we had Tiramisu drinks, and they followed it up with chocolate martinis and chocolate banana martinis as I nursed my water to be ready to drive home early for work -- a plan that didn't really work out anyway because Laura soon wandered drunkenly around the house until she landed herself on the couch and refused to move. Monica and I discussed more permanent plans for post-graduation, while Laura continued to breathe heavily on the couch until 1:30am. All in all, a very good night for the many to fill our very last summer.
The beginning of the end also brings the hopeful sign for the rest of our lives, of being closer to spending our twenties in San Francisco -- the perfect city to fall in love. Our plan is for a flat in Russian Hill, where Monica will date a butcher so we will get our protein, and we'll use the ladies (by ladies I mean boobs) to get drinks at all the bars and clubs. We haven't designated a boy for me to date yet. Perhaps a cable guy, or a baker. Though my mom said she would buy us rice. I mean, we are a little asian after all. And I just want to take the Muni & the Bart everywhere. I'm so goddamn tired of driving after dealing with LA traffic all summer. I refuse to be snobby about living in Northern California, or being from Southern California.
Speaking of southern California, Justin and I are doing lunch on Wednesday in Santa Monica on our respective lunch breaks from our respective jobs at production companies. We're so Angeleno.
In more current future news, I think we've found our apartment. It is pretty close to the perfect apartment; two blocks from the beach, four blocks from my favorite coffeeshop this side of the Pacific. Living next to the beach in San Diego is the holy grail; it would be silly not to live by the greatest attribute of the city. Just cross your fingers for us that our applications go through smoothly.
I am really nerdily excited about getting my new yellow planner in the mail.
It's amazing how much time has passed, and here we are again the summer before senior year not too far off from the summer before senior year of high school. Everything has changed and we're still the same. New friends have passed through our lives, jobs have been suffered through, boys have been kissed and hearts have been broken, cities have been painted red, and here we are still playing our silly games and drinking our famously sweet drinks. I can't believe anything to be more real or less real than this.
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