Self-Reflection

I've been noticing that I am increasingly becoming impatient and easily irritable. I don't know whether it's because I am stressed out, or if it's something more than that. I used to have a very high tolerance for people in general, and could easily befriend those with very different personality types than myself. After all, wasn't that the point of college? Meeting those who come from different places, different backgrounds, and finding something in common? Namely, your friendship and the willingness to see each other's views? Not so much anymore. I've heard that the older you become, the harder it is to make new friends. I think it's true. It's not so easy to accept everyone for who they are, and I'm finding that to be truer with the passing of each day. Personality traits that I once found tolerable and and not even remotely bothersome now annoy the living shit out of me. It's strange, I always thought that as I grew older, I would become more patient. But the opposite seems to be true. I don't know what it is, but I know I'm no longer the tolerant person I used to be. And I don't care. I don't care for false sincerity, the facades we sustain for so long since middle school, high school, college, and beyond. It's become tiresome. I just want those I care deeply for to be near me, and honestly, the number has remained constant for many years. The true friendships I have sustained throughout the years have become so much more rich and meaningful to me as I move to a new chapter of my life.

But damn, what happened to my tolerance, my acceptance of all and everyone? Have I outgrown it? I find it liberating in a sense but I also find it a bit unnerving. It's very difficult to love those who are so different from you. It is my sincere belief that those that come from similar backgrounds just meld well together. There is an unspoken understanding that is present that nobody else can detect.

On another note, my pledge sister and I are going to Burke-Williams on December 22nd because we both have gift certificates that we haven't used since we received them about three years ago because neither of us had anyone to go with! I am really excited.

Blah.

I know it's time for a vacation when I start to hate everything about my life. I know it's time for a vacation when I'm on the verge of tears when something as inane as the topping on my cupcakes melt and leak over the edge. Or maybe the solution isn't as easy as just a vacation, where my problems are just suspended mid-air as I pretend as though they don't exist for two weeks.

A deluge is near, I can feel it.

Consumerist Whims

I have had the privilege to embark on a journey that most women find arduous and exhausting but worthwhile at the same time. The urban version of the search for the lost ark. Los Angeles sample sales. I have had the good fortune to go to sample sales that have been chock-full of the best merchandise and come home with oodles and oodles of goodies that I am actually going to use and wear. I will now detail these samples sales for posterity's sake and also to remind myself next year and the year after, that indeed, these samples sales are worth a Saturday morning or afternoon pushing my way through the estrogen clouds in order to find that perfect sweater or delectable pair of shoes.

1. Stila Warehouse Sale. This was actually my first warehouse sale journey, and one that I made with my current roommate not too long after we moved in together. This was the only one that I actually waited in line for. We waited in line for about three hours and were very annoyed/aggravated/irritated by the time we entered the warehouse. But since we didn't know each other too well, we couldn't exactly yell and pout and bitch about it all. We stood in stony silence, staring at the pavement and the neverending line, thinking to ourselves, "HALF THESE GIRLS DON'T EVEN NEED TO BE HERE, THEY OBVIOUSLY DONT KNOW HOW TO PUT ON MAKEUP." Eventually, our self-righteous selves on the verge of ordering pizza while waiting in line at a warehouse sale made it in and we were like children at a candy store, college guys at a strip club. We were ogling EVERYTHING in sight, and taking two, three of the same things for our visceral pleasure. I made it out with pots and pots of eyeshadow, blush, makeup sets for my girlfriends, and TONS of lip glosses. I am a lip gloss FREAK so I am happy to say I have enough lip gloss to last me well into my fifties. I jest, I have enough to last me until next year. Great sale, shitty line. Let's move on.

2. Charles David Warehouse Sale - To be honest, I didn't have very high hopes for this sale. I know every woman LOVES Charles David shoes, in fact, I know several young women who have more than a dozen pairs, actually just one in particular. I'll keep her identity a secret in case she is embarrassed, which she shouldn't be. Every time I've been dragged into the Charles David store at the mall I have NEVER seen anything I liked. I thought the shoes were just too...dowdy. And ugly. And plain. And just BLECK. So when I went to this warehouse sale, I wasn't expecting much. But BOY was I surprised! This was a warehouse sale that was held outdoors, and it reminded me of a safari or a zoo or something that houses wild animals. There were tables and tables of shoes in boxes lined and all you did was go around and pluck the boxes housing the shoes you want. Now, I can attest to the fact that my eyes are always going to be bigger than my stomach (and wallet) so I was grabbing this box and that and before I knew it, I had a tower of boxes that were going to fall over at any given moment. So I sat down and tried them all on. I came out victorious, with four pairs of shoes, at $30. What a steal. I wear all of them to work and I can honestly say that they are the most COMFORTABLE shoes I own. This whole "Charles David shoes are sooo comfy" thing ain't a lie. They are truly comfortable. I can walk down Wilshire with my coworkers without fear that my feet are going to give out from the pain. I can waltz down to Baja Fresh without the fear that the journey back is going to take twice as long because of the pain that I am going to be in. Whee! I will definitely be returning to this sale next year.

3. BCBG Max Azria Warehouse Sale - I didn't have very high hopes for this sale either, partly due to the fact that whenever I went into BCBG, I never saw anything that I liked. I always thought their clothing was a little...not my style...Something was a little off about it. HOWEVER! This warehouse sale is a completely different story, it's not just BCBG but also their Max&Co lines and a whole slew of other lines that BCBG apparently owns. My roommates and I went the first night during the Friends & Family night because of our dear dear friend that works there and there was no waiting in line, just a satisfactory waltzing in, grabbing several large garbage bags, and not knowing where to start. The rows of clothing seemed to go on FOREVER. Eventually, everything started looking the same. I liked how a lot of the clothing was still in the original plastic bags that it arrives in the store in before they unwrap it and put it on the racks. The only problem I saw with this sale was that very delicate knits tended to get snagged before I had a chance to pick out a clean and new one. But I emerged victorious, around ten items (all ranging from work-friendly to going out-friendly) for a mere $185! I looked at the original prices on some of my items that I picked out and some were around $185 for one!

Now I can never buy Stila, Charles David, and BCBG Max Azria at retail EVER AGAIN. Poor me.

Actions vs. Words

I can't tell the difference anymore. I used to go by the old standard, actions are stronger than words. But are they really? With either one, an individual can either show that he or she cares or doesn't care about what they are doing. And what are words, really? I feel like that so many times, people want to hear a phrase, a word, something so badly but in the end what are they? Just a string of verbs and adjectives put together that don't really amount to much at all. Then why do we want to hear them so badly? I feel like sometimes there is just so much meaning placed behind certain actions and words and we're taught as humans to sacrifice anything and all just to hear them. It's not right. For me, I've realized that neither is stronger than the other. I can still do nice things and say fucked up shit. I can do fucked up shit and say nice things. I realized it doesn't matter. All of these old adages I used to follow are slowly coming undone. You can love someone, but still say fucked up shit to them. You can hate someone but still say the kindest things to them. We're all two-faced jackals. Then what really separates the sincere from the false? I don't know anymore.

Working

Is a lot better than being broke, that's for damn sure. I started working fairly young, around 13-14 years old and I'm not sure whether it was because I was being ambitious or just plain greedy. I think it was a combination of both. Anyways, I've always had this feeling in the back of my head that I would like the working world way better than going to school. And it's true. I hate school. I don't completely suck at it, but there's just something way more satisfying about going to work, earning money, coming home, and calling it a day. Homework, studying, and all that hoopla just drags on into the nights and weekends and I was never down for that. Not that I did much of that anyways, but you know what I mean. There's just something so satisfying about putting in your time and getting handed that check (or seeing that direct-deposit channeled into a drying/dwindling checking account) and starting the weekend off with a nice full feeling. I've always found the idea of being the breadwinner of the family intriguing. However, if this is the case, my husband would have to compensate more than adequately by being a stunning chef, homemaker, and raiser of our children. I would welcome the simplicity of going to work and doing a damn good job at it, and coming home to a husband who would take care of the cooking, cleaning, and emotional support. Sometimes I really do think I should have been born a guy. Oh well, it's much too late to change that, and plus I like pink and make-up and other frivolous amenities that belong to the fairer sex.

I have a very obstinate personality. My mother likened me to a donkey when I was younger, and she didn't say to hurt my feelings, just to state the obvious truth. You pull me one way, I'll go the other. It's bizarre. I reminisce about my past actions and I don't understand myself at all. In high school I had glorious visions of going to law school and becoming a corporate lawyer. When I came to college, everyone and their mothers wanted to go to law school. I tried studying for the LSATs and realized that no, this isn't what I want to do, at least not right out of undergrad, and the idea that everyone else wanted to go to law school just turned me off as well. And I have no idea why either. Perhaps it's because in three years, the market will be saturated with lawyers (not that it already isn't) but there's just something that repels me from doing what everyone else wants to do, even if it was an original goal of mine from the get-go. Bizarre. And frustrating at times.

I don't think my coworkers will ever read this, but I think the world of some of my coworkers. They are all several years my senior, and all of them have their shit straight and provide the best advice. It's always very candid and honest, and very helpful. They are good people. And good people aren't always so easy to find in the workplace. I am very lucky. Good people in your workplace make a huge difference. I have worked in great workplaces and shitty workplaces and what made shitty workplaces shitty were the people. It doesn't come down to much more than that. Yes, you can have a large cubicle all to yourself with a giant flat screen and all the drawers you want, but if you have a hag-bitch in the workplace, you're fucked.

Alright, enough for tonight. Shower and then Sex in the City time!

L.A.

There is something absolutely scintillating about the city. In all of its old, worn-down glory, there is a dignity that emerges that I have not seen the likes of in all of my days in Orange County. There is something pure and incredibly unadulterated about everything I drink up through my senses here and I can't describe it in any other way. There are so many things to absorb while driving down the street. At first glance, old auto repair shops, downtrodden beauty parlors that you would never in your right mind ever enter to get your hair or nails done seem trite and not worth your time. But look closer and see the people whose lives center around this city, this place thriving with millions of people. The city is alive. It's beautiful and not in a typical well-manicured landscape with cookie-cutter houses beautiful. It's beautiful in a tragic way, a way that seduces someone like me, someone who has lived in suburbia all of her life. I never thought I would say this, but I am beginning to fall in love with L.A.

At first it was very difficult for me to learn how to drive like a crazy deranged maniac, but I'm getting the hang of it. Driving to and from work doesn't scare the bejeezus out of me like it did in the beginning. Driving in L.A. is really just akin to driving through an obstacle course. A Level 10 obstacle course that requires you to be on the defensive at all times or else you're going to hit someone, get hit, or get honked at incessantly while getting middle fingers all around you.

As far as the people go, I am going to stick to my affirmation that people in L.A. are much nicer than people in Orange County. I probably feel this way because I don't venture into Beverly Hills or Hollywood, where DD-boobs run rampant and so do inflated egos. The people I interact with are all very down to earth. None of this high-and-mighty bullshit, especially at the convenience store or the gym. It's refreshing and honestly, my view of people has changed since moving out here.

I have so much to dwell on, so much more to write about, but I will have to save that for another time. It's Sex and the City time.