Rant, rant. Whine, whine. Whimper, whimper. It's the same thing over and over again. Nothing new, nothing exciting. Just the usual complaints and the occasional tantrums. This is my blog. If you're bored, then bugger off. But I don't think I really have to worry...there are only like 6 of you who read this anyway...
Today's woes are that of my career/life (yet uh-gain). For the gazillionth time...WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE? Can someone please help me out here? Because honestly, I have NO idea. I'm driving myself mad. And let me tell you...it's not a nice feeling at all. I just feel so empty (kinda like when the Trojans lost to the Longhorns). It's like a void in my life...I feel as though I have no direction, no goals, no dreams. That's sad. Really sad. And what about interests...what am I interested in? I have a lot of interests...yet no passion. I like playing the guitar...but I'm not passionate about it. The only thing I might be able to say I'm passionate about is learning new things. Does that mean I should be a career student? Maybe I can be a nomad. That would be cool. Nomads get to live all over the place. Maybe I should be like that guy they mentioned on NPR who is travelling around the country to get a job in each and every state, then move on. Sigh. Oh woe is me.
Remember when you were a kid and you were just fascinated with the radiator? You'd stretch out your arm to touch the miracle peoplewarmer. And just before your hand reached it, your mom or dad would yell, "No! It's hot! Very hot! No!" They'd use a stern voice, very authoritative...that way you knew they meant business...serious business...they might have even wagged a finger. But still, curiosity would get the best of you and before you knew it, tears were pouring out of your eyes and your hand felt like it was on fire. Your mom or dad would come to console you, but still wouldn't miss the opportunity for an "I told you so." They hoped this would be a lesson...but sure enough you saw the stove and just had to touch it.
We never really learn. All these times...when the man behind the counter tells you your tea is hot, when your sister tells you the chips are stale, when your girlfriend tells you the cheese smells funny...we never really listen and take their word for it. Instead, curiosity kills us and we have to check it out for ourselves. What we end up with is a burnt tongue, a funny taste in our mouths, or a smell that is funky enough to make us wanna gag. Why is this? Why do we insist on putting ourselves through these very unpleasant sensory moments? It's funny. No matter how often this happens we always feel the need to see it/taste it/smell it/feel it for ourselves. It's not bad enough that your girlfriend just ate bad cheese. You have to do it too.
You may be thinking, "Well, you're stupid. You should listen to your friends." True. But it's not completely my fault. It's my friends' faults too! Often times they'll try something, say they think it's "gone bad," but then ask meto try it too. As if the sour face I'll make will be the only way to confirm their assertion, as if they lack the confidence to make such a bold statement on their own. And how often does it turn out that they were wrong? Never...that never happens. As much as I'd love to say that I'm right...I'm never right in these situations. You know what I'm talking about. They ask you. You know this is true...because you do it too. When you smell something funky, you ask your friends to smell it too. Face it. Admit it. I admit it. I know I do it. Guilty as charged...which is why I'm not so upset to find myself on the receiving end of these situations. I'm as much the culprit as I am the victim. Instead of being upset, I'm just perplexed. I just don't get it...why do we never learn?
"Her very being is just a waste of time."
Interesting concept, eh? There aren't very many people you can apply this statement to, but when you do know that person, that one person, who embodies this phrase...you will find no better, satisfactory phrase to describe him or her.
So on Valentine's Day, Nikki and I went to this Moroccan restaurant on Sunset called Dharma and Greg Dar Maghreb. It was quite an experience. We entered the restaurant to find ourselves in a courtyard-ish (but inside) entryway with a fountain and tiled pillars and everything. The place was quite huge and had more of a center-type feeling than a restaurant. The lighting was a little brighter than one would wish and the ceiling was high, making even the tall guys feel a little small...it gave it a bit of a cold feeling. The restaurant was a bit more of a show if anything, from it's Morrocan decor to the server's outfits to the belly dancers (with whom my girlfriend insisted on putting money down their pants...I didn't mind so much). The only thing stopping this place from becoming a Medieval Times was that it actually had Moroccan food (or what I would assume food from that region would be like). There were no burgers and steaks in sight. I realize that this isn't a very good review of this restaurant, but I'm still glad we went there. Really, I am. Now, would I go back? Nah.
Well, my whole point in telling you about this restaurant was to talk about our server. He was this sweet, a bit goofy, total hippie guy. I don't remember his name so I'll just call him Bart (and maybe that's for the better). He was tall, red-headed with long hair in a pony tail and a goatee/beard. The guy looked like he was from Berkeley. We were wrong. He was from Venice. Nikki is always very interested in hearing people's stories and knowing where they are from, so of course she asked what his deal was. He told us this great story about him. When he was born in 1968, his mother decided not to report his birth to the government. Being a hippie mother at that time, she was concerned about her son's future and the possibility of him being drafted when he turned 18. She thought she solved this problem by not reporting his birth. A doctor friend of theirs delivered Bart in their home and just never reported him. She basically hid him from the government. It was wonderful in theory. Bart would never pay taxes, never be drafted. Then he turned 5. And it was time to enroll him in school. Shit is right. Without a social security number they could not enroll him and he could not get a passport to travel out of the country. So they filed for a delayed birth certificate (which apparently is all black with white lettering) and got him a social security number and passport. Even though his birth certificate says 1968, his passport says 1973. Fucking awesome. Who does that?! Who thinks like that?! I just thought this was the wildest thing.
Bee Careful
A funny thing happened to me today. I was...riding along in my automobile...da doo da doo da doo da doo...and my driver side window was down about 2½ inches. Suddenly I felt like something had hit my hair and so I flipped my hair back (or something of that variation with my short 'do). I continued driving for about a minute then looked over to my window to find a BUMBLE BEE(!) crawling on the INSIDE of my car. I fuh-lipped out. I quickly rolled down my window (what is the automatic version of this phrase?) and hoped the bee would fly out of the car. Of course, sensing the force of wind, the bee instead flew back into my car. And now, I don't know where it is. It could still be in there for all I know. For the remainder of my drive I rolled down ALL the windows, including the sunroof. I left the top open when I left my car in the garage. Hopefully, when I get off work, I'll find that a) my car is still there and b) the bee is gone. Fingers crossed.
I had a Torrettes dream last night...no, not Tourettes...TORRettes...as in the city of Torrance drill team. I was still in Torrettes and I was captain. We had a competition and I arrived a little late. But that didn't stop me from wanting to watch some of the other teams so I went into the gym and watched. After a while I found out that our team was scheduled to perform in just like 5 teams. Mrs. Sprague, our coach, was upset at me for not being ready and not setting a good example for the team. So I rushed out of the gym and into the staging area to get ready. When I got to my bag, I realized I didn't have my uniform. Actually I didn't have anything. I ran around trying to borrow some tights from somebody...anybody. When another girl let me borrow her tights, I put them on only to find there was a huge run in them. I started to panic and realized it didn't matter if I had tights are not. The bottom line was I didn't have my uniform. I couldn't borrow anybody else's because the other teams did not have the same uniform and all the girls needed to wear their own uniforms. I wondered if I could run home and get it before our team had to go on. I didn't live far and I was seriously contemplating it. But there were only 3 teams ahead of us and I realized I would be cutting it really close. I was so afraid to tell Mrs. Sprague I had forgotten my uniform. She was going to kill me. I kept debating and debating and then I realized I didn't even know the routine! How could I forget that! I hadn't been to any of the practices and I was supposed to have one of the girls teach it to me before the competition. I felt like a complete mess. It was awful. I was so upset at myself and scared of talking to Mrs. Sprague. I didn't want to let her down. I was a failure. I kept thinking...how could I let this happen? I'm captain!
Stress dream. That's surely what this was. I've gotta cut this shit out. No more stress for me. It's affecting my dreams for heaven's sake. I need to chill the fuck out.
Reality television sucks...unless you're watching Lisa Loeb's new show #1 Single (ok, ok, or Project Runway). Really though...there is so much reality crap on TV these days, it's hard to keep track of all of them. So of course I was reluctant when I heard that Lisa Loeb was gonna have her own show on E!. You all know how much I love Lisa Loeb...I mean, c'mon, what's not to like? She's adorable, über-talented, and super smart. But reality TV? I thought..."sell-out." I know she had that cooking show on the Food Network with Dweezil, but that was a cooking show and so somehow excusable. So...upon hearing of this (using rock and roll air quotes here)#1 Single, I brushed it off...I didn't even want to know what it was about. I figured it was some music show eluding to her #1 single "Stay." Man, was I wrong. They weren't talking about her music single, but rather that she is single! Ooohhh. I get it now. My friends kept calling me, telling me of such existence of a Lisa Loeb show. And they made me realize something...how can I call myself a Loeb-head if I refuse to watch her show. So last Sunday night I sat myself down in front of the TV and watched it.
Um, yeah....
Lisa Loeb is waay cute. And talk about a good night to start watching. Um, yeah...so she took off her pants and walked around in her thong. WHAA?!?! My jaw dropped to the floor and I looked around my living room to see if anybody was seeing what I was seeing. (Nobody was there.) I couldn't believe she did that! So...now...not only is she adorable AND talented AND smart, but now she's got some spunk too. It was awesome. Lucky for those of you who didn't see it, this website has a clip. Wow...it still blows my mind.