Posted in Topical

succumb to the cell phone

I think I might have to succumb to having a cell phone. This blows.

I got five or six phone calls on Saturday when I went out to the North County mall. Of course, when I return to my abode and return all the phone calls, nobody was home. Damnit! I bet there was a party or an outing to be had and I missed out because I was not home to make preparations. So I ended up watching “Love and Basketball”, a sundance film that was made by a female director. A romantic love story between to ballplayers…awww.

On a different note, what is up with guys and when they break up with you, it’s like NOTHING to them? I mean, did you mean absolutely ANYTHING? Any feelings of loss? Thus far, the answer is NO. I suppose I only complain because don’t tell me that you care or I am important but all you really want is sex. I’m cool with that, just be upfront about it and tell me what you want but don’t give me bullshit if all you want is me in bed. That’s all.

I suppose I give the aforementioned rant because one of my girlfriends just went through something like that and it made me think of past circumstances that were very similar. bastards.

Okay, off to another uneventful week. yee=ha.

p.s. what’s up with everyone going to Vegas? and what’s up that I have not been invited (bastards, again). I kid of course.

Posted in NYU, San Diego, Storytime

The Thora Birch mentality

I once was in an actor’s class in college. These classes were mandatory in order for us to graduate. Since we were all aspiring filmmakers, acting was a pertinent part of composing a film. The mentality was “How are you going to tell actors what to do and how to feel if you do not know the process they go through?” In retrospect, I recall how difficult it was to go in front of a class to do a scene. It was unbelievably scary to go up in front of a class (especially dramatic scenes) and portray a character with intense emotions. When I went up, (I did a scene from Grosse Pointe Blank where the female lead finds out her boyfriend is a hitman) and I had to bring intense emotions to the forefront and relive how it felt to be hurt, disappointed, crushed, upset and angry all at the same time. Needless to say, I have felt those emotions concurrently and I did not want to do it because I just felt so naked in front of all these people who believed me to be a happy-go-lucky and overall complacent person in public. I suppose it was because it was voluntarily exposing a very private part of myself that I’m not necessarily ashamed to show but am just accustomed to keeping it behind closed doors ( a closeted ’emotionalist’ I suppose).

I also had to do this other part in American Beauty where I played the daughter. I recall it being the scene where her father (kevin spacey) and her mother were having asparagus and he gets so angry he throws the asparagus against the wall. I just remember being so angry (the appropriate emotion for the part)

Why do I bring this up? For some odd reason I’ve been feeling very angry. Not anything particular. I suppose the tumultousnous of being a twenty-something. The observations of society that annoy me. The feeling that I don’t “feel alive” unless I feel pain and the feeling that I am not my own person but a cumulination of various experiences and pop culture references. I don’t feel the need to lash out anything specific and I assure you having uncertainty in your life makes it much more interesting. However, uncertainty can be the bane of my existence and lead me to believe that settling for security and complacency is the overall answer. I don’t know. I’m rambling. I’m just angry at everything and nothing.

But, don’t take this as if I’m not able to function in social gatherings or the work environment. Not so. It just sort of amusing to me to feel so angry and be able to smile and conversate with anyone or anything. Such a bizarre dichotomy existing within me.

But, as Wilbur pointed out, I could just be sexually frustrated. Eh. Whatever. Sex is way overrated. (I say this now and I guarantee you I will change my opinion soon enough)

I think I’ll numb my thoughts out with Road Rules versus the Real World.

Farewell, cruel world.

Posted in Creative Effort, Nonsensical, San Diego, Topical

Retaliatory piece for Wilbur


In my weekly/bi-weekly correspondence with the above mentioned individual, he has blatantly pointed out (with subtle sarcasm) that the writer of this journal is getting quite lazy with utilizing her potential ability to succumb to her well-versed academia with the English language and the like. Therefore, this journal entry my relatiatory piece (since I am a retalitatory type of person) to bring peace with WILBUR. (he has also complained that I have dubbed him with the objective pronoun “childhood friend” in previous entries and he would like the dignity and honor of having a name. However, he has requested for the moniker of Bin Laden to give him some sort of clout in the matter but I fear that the CIA may arrest me for custody for such trivial and seemingly facetious matters)

Dear reader, as you may recall, my inability to write more frequently has proven myself to commited the sin of sloth and thereby this opus will be quite lenghty and have the high probabilty of being pure drivel whereby something of this caliber might of be something of interest to the disinterested reader who is sicken or grieved since I have succumbed to such mundane language and filler. Hence, I present to you, the most interesting misadventures of yours truly to date. Is your curiousity piqued?

First misadventure (please be aware, this will probably written out of order):
Wilbur and I were to attend a club dubbed “The Comedy Store” with my fellow friends soon to be mutual compadres with Wilbur (should I be obliged to put Wilbur in capitals so he may feel even more special than the usual person in an entry? My humor may not be appreciated. Alas, I digress) i.e. Tyler, Kathleen, Aldryn (fellow co-employee with Wilbur) Kay aka Kristina, and Don. However, I noted that I had just recently underwent a folicle changing process which was quite lengthy in time thereby backlogging my day by an hour. You see, our general plan was for me to pick up Wilbur in Imperial Beach (his place of residence) “grab” a quick “bite” to “eat” (I think the agreed carcass was a chicken between two slices of bread. In the common tongue, it is defined as a sandwich a la chicken/chicken sandwich). I especially was succumbing to hunger since I have not consumed anything of worth since the noontime. When I went to pick up Wilbur (i mean, WILBUR) I found to my dismay that the clock warned it was 7:00 p.m. and I had to be at Tyler’s abode by 7:30 p.m. Please be advised that I had to transport ourselves from Imperial Beach (near the border for those who are directionally miseducated) to La half an hour. The consumption of carcass was dismissed as I broke several moving violations in the honor of my obsession with punctuality.

I made it to Tyler’s at 7:31 p.m. which made me quite please. We enter the Comedy Store and in order to develop some sort of comaderie with my peers, I ordered a drink. Please note that the narrator of this story had no intentions of being inebriated since appointed the designated driver. Kathleen, seeing that my drunken behavior is waning, in throes of celebration of having a part time job, and perhaps the misled into believing I could “hold my own” ordered a Long Island Iced Tea to continue the inebriated mentality.

Quite drunk and feeling feisty, I slurred several words and steps into the line at Moondoggies. Thinking I was able to consume food and/or alcohol, I unwittingly accepted a nicotine stick from WILBUR. A slim stick which appeared to be European. However, slim sticks does not guarantee slim/lack of nicotine. Quite the opposite, I belive. This effect only intensified the alcohol’s power and I have the overwhelming urge to have my food regurgitated.

HOWEVER, I HAVE NOT CONSUMED FOOD SINCE NOON. We deftly left Moondoggies and headed toward its neighbor, (neighbour in british) Hard Rock Cafe. I vaguely remember stumbling into the entrance and the protector at its gates questioning my ability to communicate. I passed the test and WILBUR, bless his heart, led this drunkard to the water closet.

20 minutes later of dry heaving, WILBUR was patiently waiting at the door of the ladies room with a look of concern. I opined that I was going to live and we headed off to the booths were the rest of the party was socializing. Unfortunately, the lack of food also intensified the absorption of alcohol in my system and I begrudgingly (but rapidly) made several trips (I believe it was around 15-25 trips) to the my favorite stall and toilet to vomit NOTHING. Of course, I became the brunt of the jokes for my weak stomach (Remember, dear reader, I only had TWO drinks. a heinken and a long island iced tea) Aldryn kept voicing his opinion that I should “represent for the east coast/NYU” and continued to place drinks in front of my tired espophagus. My glasses had fallen and Wilbur had apparenlty bought yours truly a drink or two but I was consummating a relationship with a toilet 90% of the time. Being the good friend that he is, he parched his own thirst with my supposed drinks.

Fortunately, since my system was literally sparse with ANYTHING, I was able to drive WILBUR and I home with the pleasant company of Red Hot Chili Peppers in my c.d. player.

That is just one of the many misadventures (and adventures) that this pseudo writer has experienced. There is a hiking trip, a Halo experience, and many eating experiences to be transcribed but alas, it will have to wait for another time I should diary such things.

Additionally, I took the unfortunate risk of taking a class with a fellow female exerciser. We decided to take a class named “Fat Burner Extreme.” Needless to say, I was petrified of such a class that would indicate it was 2 hours long. However, we decided to bury our fear and went to the saturday morning class.

8,000 lunges later, my thighs were shaking and Cyndy’s back was screaming for mercy. The instructor was impressed with our beginnings and opined that we could sit and stretch while the remainder of the small class finished 8,000 more lunges. I was quite surprised that I did not have muscles bulging out of my arms and my stomach was firm from the 900 ab exercises. Ironically, we walked of the class streesed and somewhat relieved to we survived. To celebrate, we took a drag of some Marlboro Lights. For fear we may be caught by the health instructor, we took our vices into the cyndy’s truck.

24 hours later, my body had efficiently burned a bazillion calories and watched 18 episodes of Sex and the City. Unfortunatley, this fat burning machine was also in the throes of PAIN. They screamed for mercy and asked their owner why everything past the neck had been pulled, stressed, and manipulated in an unusual way. To punish their owner, my body refused to move with ease and thus, I became a sore cripple. Utilizing the bathroom was a scream and a half and going up the stairs…Eeks! Cyndy called me the next morning (this morning) to express her likewise experience and noted that she would remain in bed until her muscles were well-taken to movement.

I, on the other hand, decided to defy the soreness (no pain, no gain..etcetera) and run some errands with a girlfriend, (wallaine) and eat many delcious treats. Moaning and groaning with pain when entering and exiting her car was quite entertaining for her.

I don’t fucking care anymore though, I’m going back to that damn fat burner extreme class next week to prove myself (lack of self control on the profanity)

All right. It is past midnight. I must succumb to my circadian clock and it’s partner, the hypothalamus and put this aching body to rest. Put on the dvd and set the timer on the television. This mind refuses to rest unless blocked out with the ordinary background noise.

Good night dear readers.

Posted in Nonsensical

chaos theory

You know what would be a great invention?

If I could figure out how to make cheesecake to raise your metabolism. I swear, there has to be some sort of scientist guy who needs to work on that. Or key lime pie that raised your metabolism. Whatever the case may be, someone should be working on this. Of course this the sloth in me talking. I’m sure I’ll have a different mentality tomorrow.

Nah. Probably not.

My hair is driving me crazy. My roots are like screaming at people “Look at me and how I’m ruining sharon’s life!” I suppose it is sort of comforting to be going crazy of something so tedious than to be going crazy over not having toes or something. (Frida reference) Which, by the way, I saw Frida last night, which I will divulge in my next journal entry.

Do they have edible candle wax? Just curious.

btw, need a maintenance man but that’s another story (enter song here: “the never ending stooorreeee” ….’BASTIAN! SAY MY NAME!!!!!”)

Man, I have to watch that movie again. I think I’ve lost my mind. I”m rambling about random things. However, things are never REALLY random (uh-oh…digging the hole, digging the hole)

Supposedly, nothing in the universe is random according to the chaos theory.

So call this a random journal entry but it is just the invisible energies of the chaos theory at work. Oooh. it’s raining hard outside…coincidence?? I think not. It’s the CHAOS THEORY! AHHHHH!!!!