God wouldn't have given you maracas if He didn't want you to shake 'em...!

"That was the summer we went to Kellerman's."

In tune with summer where my school schedule doesnt get in the way with the things that are WORTH doing like enjoying musicals... TG (because he's like a tamagotchi...constant feeding to keep him happy lol) and I decided to go to Dirty Dancing on stage at the Pantages after much disappointment in missing Mamma Mia earlier in Spring. So here was our chance since rush tickets were available for only $25 a piece.

And for some reason, we thought it would be a full out musical. It was more play with a live orchestra. A good time given the dancing was good (Penny had these amazingly long legs...swoon...freaking 6'2" and a dancer...hmm I can only wish!), the set was cute and the awkwardness of Patrick Swayze as Johnny Castle translated on stage but it just wasnt a musical in the "traditional sense." All in all...it was worth going given our rush tickets were cheap for a walk down memory lane.

TG will have to see the movie now...although he might have had enough of Dirty Dancing for a while after a 2 hour musical of the same. lol.

chipotle, naps, popeye's in sweltering hot "ambience", donuts and coffee before, looking at hollywood stars and not recognizing anyone one of them...then comfort food at Dragon Mark in sgv after...makes for a good day despite the production not blowing us away.

Birthday Shhhh...! pt. 2

Happy Birthday Ammmmyyyyyyy!!

@Gyu Kaku -Huntington Beach and @Proof Bar -Downtown Santa Ana

hahahaha I love you Amy!! and if you ever wonder why...this picture explains it all...

Girl you know I-I-I, Girl you know I-I-I
I been feenin
Wake up in the late night
Been dreamin about your loving, girl
Girl you know I-I-I, Girl you know I-I-I
Don't need candles and cake
Just need your body to make...
Birthday sex... Birthday sex oohoohoohooh

Birthday Shhhh...! pt. 1

Happy Birthday to my Lyssa!

(love this girl...shes as crazy as I am and thats some plenty crazy!) Lyssa and Julie

Red Hot Cinnamon Kisses What's there not to love about that damn smile :)

Lyssa and Akira Drink up little girl!

Madness on the dance floor! Pho? Denny's? HK cafe? Guitar Hero? The last song wind down

Happy Birthday Love!

@Zanzibar- Santa Monica (awesome ass dj and music!!)

bleh

after 5 days of fun and peachiness ...the world is just so annoying today. happens.

anywhere but here...

the travel bug is biting me senselessly...

my favorite passage.

“Well, the man who despises himself tries to gain self-esteem from sexual adventures—which can’t be done, because sex is not the cause, but an effect and an expression of a man’s sense of his own value.”

“You’d better explain that.”

“Did it ever occur to you that it’s the same issue? The men who think that wealth comes from material resources and has no intellectual root or meaning, are the men who think—for the same reason—that sex is a physical capacity which functions independently of one’s mind, choice or code of values. They think that your body creates a desire and makes a choice for you—just about in some such way as if iron ore transformed itself into railroad rails of its own volition. Love is blind, they say; sex is impervious to reason and mocks the power of all philosophers.

But, in fact, a man’s sexual choice is the result and sum of his fundamental convictions. Tell me what a man finds sexually attractive and I will tell you his entire philosophy of life. Show me the woman he sleeps with and I will tell you his valuation of himself. No matter what corruption he’s taught about the virtue of selflessness, sex is the most profoundly selfish of all acts, an act which he cannot perform for any motive but for his own enjoyment—just try to think of performing it in a spirit of selfless charity!—an act which is not possible for self-debasement, only in self-exaltation, only in the confidence of being desired and being worthy of desire. It is an act that forces him to stand naked in spirit, as well as in body, and to accept his real ego as his standard of value. He will always be attracted to the woman who reflects his deepest vision of himself, the woman whose surrender permits him to experience—or to fake—a sense of self-esteem. The man who is proudly certain of his own value, will want the highest type of woman he can find, the woman he admires, the strongest, the hardest to conquer—because only the possession of a heroine will give him the sense of achievement, not the possession of a brainless slut. He does not seek to…He does not seek to gain his value, he seeks to express it. There is no conflict between the standards of his mind and the desires of his body.

But the man who is convince of his own worthlessness will be drawn to a woman he despises—because she will reflect his own secret self, she will release him from that objective reality in which he is a fraud, she will give him a momentary illusion of his own value and a momentary escape from the moral code that damns him. Observe the ugly mess which makes most men make of their sex lives—and observe the mess of contradictions which they hold as their moral philosophy. One proceeds from the other.

Love is our response to our highest values—and can be nothing else. Let a man corrupt his values and his view of existence, let him profess that love is not self-enjoyment but self-denial, that virtue consists, not of pride, but of pity or pain or weakness or sacrifice, that the noblest love is born, not of admiration, but of charity, not in response to values, but in response to flaws—and he will have cut himself in two. His body will not obey him, it will not respond, it will make him impotent toward the woman he professes to love and draw him to the lowest type of whore he can find. His body will always follow the ultimate logic of his deepest convictions; if he believes that flaws are values, he has damned himself and he will feel that depravity is all he is worthy of enjoying. He has equated virtue with pain and he will feel that vice is the only qualm of pleasure. Then he will scream that his body has vicious desires of its own which his mind cannot conquer, that sex is sin, that true love is a pure emotion of the spirit. And then he will wonder why love brings him nothing but boredom, and sex—nothing but shame.

But observe that most people are creatures cut in two who keep swinging desperately to one side or to the other. One kind of half is the man who despised money, factories, skyscrapers and his own body. He holds undefined emotions about non-conceivable subjects as the meaning of life and his own claim to virtue. And he cries with despair, because he can feel nothing for the women he respects, but finds himself in bondage to an irresistible passion for a slut from the gutter. He is the man whom people call an idealist. The other kind of half is the man whom people call practical, the man who despised principles, abstractions, art, philosophy and his own mind. He regards the acquisitions of material objects as the only goal of existence—and he laughs at the need to consider their purpose or their source. He expects them to give him pleasure—and he wonders why the more he gets, the less he feels. He is the man who spends his time chasing women. Observe the triple fraud which he perpetrates upon himself. He will not acknowledge his need of self-esteem, since he scoffs at such a concept as moral values; yet he feels the profound self-contempt which comes from believing that he is a piece of meat. He will not acknowledge, but he knows that sex is the physical expression of a tribute to personal values. So he tries, by going through the motions of the effect, to acquire that which should have been the cause. He tries to gain a sense of his own value from the women who surrender to him—and he forgets that the women he picks have neither character nor judgment nor standard of value.

What do you suppose those women are after but the same thing as the chaser—the desire to gain their own value from the number and fame of the men they conquer? Only it’s one step phonier, because the value they seek is not even in the actual fact, but in the impression on and the envy of other women. Well, I gave those bitches what they wanted—but what they literally wanted, without the pretense that they expected, the pretense that hides from them the nature of their wish. Do you think they wanted to sleep with me or with any man? They wouldn’t be capable of so real and honest a desire. They wanted food for their vanity—and I gave it to them. I gave them the chance to boast to their friends and to see themselves in scandal sheets in the roles of great seductresses.

ATLAS SHRUGGED-ayn rand

U-U-U the best...

so honestly its one thing to wear leather leggings out to a club with a strapless corset top...i mean, its night time, the leather-ness blends well with all the skimpy dresses and the club lights. no shame there, you can totally see that right?...

but then... when you have to put those leather leggings on in the morning after...and you're hungover...in an oversized t-shirt (bc god help me put a corset top on at 12 pm sunday morning)...hmmm sooo majorly out of context...lol

@ Green Door--Hollywood

...after the bars turn out their lights.

I'll wear my badge:
a vinyl sticker with big block letters
adhered to my chest.
It tells your new friends
"I am a visitor here... I am not permanent."

A stranger with your door key,
explaining that I'm just visiting.
..that I'm just visiting.






heart, please stay still.

Nerd Status

my favorite ...still gives me chills.

I pull up to the front of your driveway...With magic soakin' my spine...

On the corner of main street
Just tryin' to keep it in line.
You say you wanna move on and
You say I'm falling behind.

Can you read my mind?
Can you read my mind?

I never really gave up on
Breakin' out of this two-star town.
I got the green light,
I got a little fight.
I'm gonna turn this thing around.



topics of the night: reasons vs excuses; the draw of convenience; service vs sacrifice

Nothing beats Chipotle with an old chatty friend, browsing mags at B&N, Creamsicles and the Obama NBC White House Special with Brian Williams. Michelle Obama is charming... I gush. Malia will grow up gorgeous. Oh sighh I love the First Family.

difference between a reason and excuse: a reason has a followup, a story, an explanation that buttresses its motivation, intention, eventual manifestation. an excuse is of itself...with little more rhyme or reason other than to be the truth-- because an excuse is anything but that.

the draw of convenience hurt me. the number that made me feel less than the imaginary I had created. here I am flesh and blood, spilling my heart out...and the mere representation of proximity...told me something I needed to realized, couldnt on my own but now do. Dont ask what you're not ready to hear. I asked and now I'm not ready to listen. I can only be here. Just here...instincts are misleading, I shouldnt think what I'm feeling...I shouldn't...but it reminds me.

The Obama Special really moved me. They covered Obama's White House and what changes has come around since his move. They did a segment on how the staff made tough decisions to choose service to his administration... and the sacrifices of leaving their family back. An honor but a choice. That is such a powerful feeling. The sense that you are doing something out of pure love. I had worked on the campaign of a US congresswoman for 2 years and it is one of my best jobs to date. I worked as a campaign fundraiser. The draw was doing something different everyday...never mundane and never the same. The love of doing the groundwork then zooming off to a meeting or big event. The work days that would stetch from 4 to 5 to 9 to 11 to 1 as we got closer to election day. and then 1 million fold that...is the only way I can imagine what working on the Obama campaign could be like, and then having the privilege working on his staff. Amazing. A life I so admire. In that kind of life, I wouldnt mind being at work til 1 am.

I am drained on so many fronts and yet...I still believe.

Crescendo of Random Thoughts

self-destructive. to say the least.

but in the back of my mind, I recall jp telling me to guard my heart. be careful who you give it to. maybe thats the underlying lesson of this day. or maybe the lesson is...its funny until someone gets hurts. maybe two. It makes me think of this quote by F.Scott Fitzgerald...I like people and I like them to like me, but I wear my heart where God put it, on the inside.

Lukewarm. when people ask me what my pet peeve is, I never mention this one although its one of my biggest. and the most obvious given my personality. I believe in wearing my heart on my sleeve. (despite my above quotations) I believe in being a bleeding heart everything. I believe in taking the dive and those, those who stand on the edge, tettering...they can just watch me. Sometimes I hit the ground, sometimes I float but I'm not tettering.

I cry, I smile, I get excited, I will show you my love, I am never ashamed of what I can offer my friends and lovers, I can never wait for the appropriate time or place for anything. I make mistakes. I falter.But I come full circle many times over. The heart may have limits but life isnt worth much to me if I cant test its bounds. I am a delitto passionale.

________________ _____________________ _________________

i had a really great weekend. I already forgot what I did on Friday. Maybe I will remember by the end of this entry. On Saturday, I woke up and had brunch with my college gf from UCI and caught up on boy gossip, law school and life. Then I went to exchange some suit pants to a smaller size and picked up new mascara (too faced lash injection is the shit!!) and gladiator heels from f21 which I am IN LOVE with. Then I went home and lounged. Dinner at Victory with TheS and then off to get ready for LyssnLA's birthday at Zanzibar (amazing music!). After hours of dancing and drunkenness. Then I got to see HH. Sunday morning was lazy but so nice not to have to rush off to work and could actually afford to lay in bed and veg. HH had a meeting to zoom off to so I stayed in bed catching up on Eclipse. Then finally got up when HH was coming back, got ready finally. Lunch at Bacallis then off to Venice Beach in the hazy sun. Came back to nap...zzZZZz -- dinner at Charlie Trios, starbucks run then Drag Me to Hell. Omg the scariest Ive EVER been in a movie much to HH's dismay. But I survived. It was actually really fun.

pictures to come! promise promise.