puddle o mudd

there was a 5.8 earthquake and the epicenter was my humble chino hills. Yippee, the one time my suburbia gets any regional recognition for something other than excessive Starbucks or overpriced Japanese restaurants. My sister was alone at home, and while she is entering college next year and has all the noticeable characteristics of a 17 year old rebelw/ocause, she's still her 9 year old tiara clad runt in my mind. And for that 9 year old self to be forlorn atop shifting plates, scares me.

I want to know what she was thinking the instant it happened. To be alone in a 4 bedroom, 2.5 bathroom, 2 story house, your mom 80 miles away, your sister God knows where, what type of sordid speculations go through the mind of a teenage cynic. I wonder if she had a "this is the moment before I pass" moments, if she sifted through the memories of her life, and what she came up with.

blah blah. I'm pretty good at this procrastinating thing. It's what an active imagination does to already questionable work ethic. Anyways, i'm going to make it a point to write something here everyday, adieu till then

tame that shrew

tis true, my friend brought it to my attention that I haven't been blogging lately. I get into these bouts of self obsession to the point where I forget I need to remember, and the best way of remembering for me is with words. All of a sudden there's a whir of colors and outings, faces and places that won't last for lack of sobriety or interest. So update on me, by me (though it'd be beyond rad to have an update on me by someone else, like jesus, or my liver, or my couch):

I've had 2 conference calls where I've been interviewing people for my september assignments. I used to believe there was nothing more awkward than a phone conversation, and now I know there is- a phone conference conversation. This is mostly due to the non-participative other people listening in on my awkward ums and overzealousness. As the interviewer I over analyze my questions, and it's really a difficult situation for all said parties. On top of that my conference call today disconnected a total of 3 times, each time I dialed back in and tried to bust a congenial retort on my bipolar phone. Noticeably, they weren't having it

For someone who's quite self aware, it's painstaking to the max and I opt out of any future instances. Oh technology, How do I loathe thee? may I count the ways.

This weekend was nonstop. Went to comic con yesterday, and while avoiding the mystical world of first person cosplay, definitely indulged in vicarious stupor. We coined the term blowfish for every person who could only borderline fit their costume. Honorary mention was this corpulant ursula who encored in my nightmare last night, belly first. Regardless, twas a blast, and we were selling with the director of the debut and some apia hollywood heads. That world is surreally small, and i'm itching to be a part of it soon

TBC [have only 10 more min before my mind droning "for the man" job, and writing deadlines=anxiety]

happy birthday america

if there's anything constant, it's my affinity to drama. Not baby mama drama in the high school sense of the word, but change and passion for a consistently inconsistent world. It keeps me on my toes; every passing glance is an unspoken flirtation, each meal my last, every jog I'm running from some notorious drug lord.. imagination does wonders. Everything is fresh as long as you will it so

that said, good weekend. I feel like I'm on vacation from life sometimes. Amidst the hyperbolic patriotism and excruciating heat, there was fun. An undying love for smashbros was rediscovered, as well as my inability to deny booze whenever tempted. Fireworks at Coronado, courtesy of a planning session with rics, was sheer success. Though car two got to watch the fireworks atop a ferry, I'd say oogling at man-made light patterns on the beach was comparable. And alcohol induced movie poster passing does wonders for an ego

A lot of explorin' SD through consumer culture this weekend. Frequented PB the whole of this week on a rampant search for the perfect black v neck. Failed miserably. Perfected the art of window shopping. Watched depressing druggie movies at 6am. Consumed too many delicious (though pricey) meals. Attended a one woman show @ La jolla playhouse (which was definitely a work in progress). I sometimes feel like I'm finally turning into the urbanite my mom was always rearing me up to be, except now on my own accord.

It's weird when you start realizing what you want. For my floater self I just kind of go with it, but when things start to materialize, and I gradually grasp what I enjoy and what I don't, it's that next bit that scares me. Making a decision. Could be that you realize you don't truly enjoy a friend's company, or you undeniably love tacky music. Either way you have to readjust some of your ways. It's just that some choices are irreversible, and you never know till you make em'. and I babble

It's weird how, to this day, I can't really write with music. I tried to blast some rilo kiley prior to this post, but there's something that collides when it comes to music and word flow. That, or i'm mentally retarded. I'm guessing the latter