Fresh Crayola markers, where the tips are sharp, the color is bright, and the ink flows out smoothly, is one of life's greatest joys. There's little more satisfying in the world than sitting down with a coloring book page armed with a new bold, red marker, ready to fill in between the lines.
I colored in a rose today in my USIE facilitator class (as a "microteaching" exercise for one of the other facilitators and her class on the Psychology of Arts & Crafts) and I must admit that I was pretty proud of it, all things considered. I drew it with a little bit of artistic depth; the petals had a yellow lining while the inside of the petals were red and the purple stem grew blue AND purple leaves. Beat that, "Beauty and the Beast!" You don't even understand what a REAL rose is until you've seen one with a purple stem!
Anyway, the point of the exercise was not exactly to gain a sense of base-level satisfaction at the minute accomplishment of just coloring something in between the lines (we led into a discussion of how gender roles/creativity are defined by what we choose to color, how we color it, in what colors, etc.), but there was a sense of calm and relaxation that I experienced when coloring. Maybe it was just the fact that I was doing something so mind-numblingly simple yet so undeniably relaxing that made the exercise stand out in my mind. I'm not even a very good colorer (I manage to always get outside the lines SOMEHOW), but with only the goal of filling in something and trying to make it "pretty," I felt completely at ease and I left class feeling oddly energized.
Maybe a trip to the arts & crafts section of the pharmacy down in Westwood is in order. There are some great Disney princess coloring book pages online. I think Cinderella would look rad with some pink hair.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Today I Appreciate Time to Breathe
Almost two weeks have passed without an entry posted here. What that reflects is a combination of laziness, apathy, and - well - a certain degree of negativity.
It's ironic that the latter point is a reason for not writing, for not reflecting. After all, this blog is a way to help rid myself of those negative feelings and thoughts and emotions, right? This should be the time where I'm recording and thinking more. Yet I've been stagnant and I don't really have much of an excuse for it other than the fact that one car crash, one scare over an ex-boyfriend in the hospital, and a conglomeration of other depressed feelings later, I come away with no record of what I was thinking and feeling and what I found that could potentially make me feel better.
If you ask any college student how he or she is doing, the result is inevitably, 1. "tired" and/or 2. "busy." Hence, I hate saying that lately I've been "tired" and "busy" because I feel like that adheres to this cliche of someone who likes to claim: "I HAVE SO MANY MIDTERMS AND I GO TO SLEEP AT 2:00 AM AND WAKE UP AT 10:00 AM MY LIFE IS SO TERRIBLE."
Yet if you were to ask me how I've been doing, I'd probably give you one, if not both, of the above stereotyped responses. Typically, I'm content with the "busy" part of the equation and tend to prefer a day full of class and professor meetings and club meetings and tutoring because it keeps me active and excited about the one real reason I'm even at UCLA: to learn. That business must, of course, be tempered by relaxation time and I chronically find myself unable to really strike that balance without feeling either antsy and unproductive or completely overwhelmed. This, of course, is an entirely psychologically and easily remedied issue: do less stuff and come to realize that you DO need time to relax, to breathe, to live.
This "living" is not always easy for me. In fact, I find relaxing often more difficult than I do working because it allows me time to think about emotional concerns or worry about my future. Ultimately what helps me, I suppose (and I'm still trying to figure this out every day when my tongue isn't wagging out of my mouth), is to remind myself that all of my temporary problems, all of my concerns about what other people think about me, all of my concerns about how I spend my time, about who I spend my time with, will ultimately fade with moments of companionship and reassurance that yes, I guess I'm an OK kind of girl.
For example, I saw my parents this weekend. I saw a great elementary school friend this weekend. I spent time with my roommates. It's all going to be OK.
So, today, I appreciate the time to collect myself (thank goodness for Monday holidays), to reflect upon what I could do differently than I have done these past few weeks, and to remind myself - once more - that I am capable of balance and happiness and peace.
It's ironic that the latter point is a reason for not writing, for not reflecting. After all, this blog is a way to help rid myself of those negative feelings and thoughts and emotions, right? This should be the time where I'm recording and thinking more. Yet I've been stagnant and I don't really have much of an excuse for it other than the fact that one car crash, one scare over an ex-boyfriend in the hospital, and a conglomeration of other depressed feelings later, I come away with no record of what I was thinking and feeling and what I found that could potentially make me feel better.
If you ask any college student how he or she is doing, the result is inevitably, 1. "tired" and/or 2. "busy." Hence, I hate saying that lately I've been "tired" and "busy" because I feel like that adheres to this cliche of someone who likes to claim: "I HAVE SO MANY MIDTERMS AND I GO TO SLEEP AT 2:00 AM AND WAKE UP AT 10:00 AM MY LIFE IS SO TERRIBLE."
Yet if you were to ask me how I've been doing, I'd probably give you one, if not both, of the above stereotyped responses. Typically, I'm content with the "busy" part of the equation and tend to prefer a day full of class and professor meetings and club meetings and tutoring because it keeps me active and excited about the one real reason I'm even at UCLA: to learn. That business must, of course, be tempered by relaxation time and I chronically find myself unable to really strike that balance without feeling either antsy and unproductive or completely overwhelmed. This, of course, is an entirely psychologically and easily remedied issue: do less stuff and come to realize that you DO need time to relax, to breathe, to live.
This "living" is not always easy for me. In fact, I find relaxing often more difficult than I do working because it allows me time to think about emotional concerns or worry about my future. Ultimately what helps me, I suppose (and I'm still trying to figure this out every day when my tongue isn't wagging out of my mouth), is to remind myself that all of my temporary problems, all of my concerns about what other people think about me, all of my concerns about how I spend my time, about who I spend my time with, will ultimately fade with moments of companionship and reassurance that yes, I guess I'm an OK kind of girl.
For example, I saw my parents this weekend. I saw a great elementary school friend this weekend. I spent time with my roommates. It's all going to be OK.
So, today, I appreciate the time to collect myself (thank goodness for Monday holidays), to reflect upon what I could do differently than I have done these past few weeks, and to remind myself - once more - that I am capable of balance and happiness and peace.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Today I Appreciate "THAT'S SO RAVEN!"
No, I do not have a special affinity for the Disney Channel. In fact, I tend to rather adversely react to the idea of marketing and producing particularly attractive teens for general consumption. However, over a conversation with some wonderful literary journal staff members, we collectively decided that one particular Disney Channel phrase (and incidentally the name of a semi-successful program) should come back into every day vernacular:
"THAT'S SO RAVEN!"
OK, hear us out on this. My friend, Jeff, initially proposed the idea and I think it's an excellent one for several reasons:
1. Currently, no appropriate expression exists for expressing one's astonishment and excitement over a particular event, person, or circumstance that is shockingly out of the ordinary. Sure, we could say something like, "That's unbelievable!" or "I never would have expected that!" but we lack a modifier for what "that" truly is. To only describe "that" as "unbelievable" or "unexpected" seems rather shoddy and, frankly, rather dull. We need a new phrase to encompass our earth-shattered expectation! Hence, "raven." It rolls off the tongue. It's easy to say. It has a certain punch.
2. The word "raven" conjures mystery, intrigue, and excitement. Even if you're not a fan of Poe, you must admit that a raven seems like a rather looming, enchanted creatures. Sure, it may have some negative and creepy connotations, but it also evokes a mysticism that's heavy, a touch dark, and powerful. Sure, a unicorn or a narwhal edges at producing some feelings of magical wonderment and fulfillment, but not to the same extent as a raven: graceful, powerful, somehow all-knowing. Hence, when someone proclaims something to be "so raven!" one evokes a whole range of emotions and feelings about what a raven encompasses and how a certain event or person may, too, evoke the same sort of excitement and intrigue as the raven itself.
There are only a few hang-ups with trying to integrate this expression into our every day vernacular. First, listeners may immediately associate the expression with the unfortunate Disney channel show about a teen psychic. However, psychics also imply a sort of mysticism, too, even if psychics are more of a joke than anything else. This cultural connection could help better ease those into using the phrase, though, if they see that the adopted meaning of the expression maintains some relevancy to its source material.
Another potential problem is simply the fact that people may not immediately understand what one means upon proclaiming, "That's so raven!" After all, someone may assume that you simply diverged into a non sequiter about a defunct television show and everyone knows that that's not the way to maintain social fluidity. However, a few concise, articulate explanations (see the above list as potential source material) may clear up any potential confusion that may occur.
So, today, I appreciate the discussion of turning "That's so raven!" into an every day catch phrase because not only is it exciting to think about how we have the power to change our language, but it's also a rather fun and energizing process to simply create discussion with wonderful people about even the silliest of topics.
"THAT'S SO RAVEN!"
OK, hear us out on this. My friend, Jeff, initially proposed the idea and I think it's an excellent one for several reasons:
1. Currently, no appropriate expression exists for expressing one's astonishment and excitement over a particular event, person, or circumstance that is shockingly out of the ordinary. Sure, we could say something like, "That's unbelievable!" or "I never would have expected that!" but we lack a modifier for what "that" truly is. To only describe "that" as "unbelievable" or "unexpected" seems rather shoddy and, frankly, rather dull. We need a new phrase to encompass our earth-shattered expectation! Hence, "raven." It rolls off the tongue. It's easy to say. It has a certain punch.
2. The word "raven" conjures mystery, intrigue, and excitement. Even if you're not a fan of Poe, you must admit that a raven seems like a rather looming, enchanted creatures. Sure, it may have some negative and creepy connotations, but it also evokes a mysticism that's heavy, a touch dark, and powerful. Sure, a unicorn or a narwhal edges at producing some feelings of magical wonderment and fulfillment, but not to the same extent as a raven: graceful, powerful, somehow all-knowing. Hence, when someone proclaims something to be "so raven!" one evokes a whole range of emotions and feelings about what a raven encompasses and how a certain event or person may, too, evoke the same sort of excitement and intrigue as the raven itself.
There are only a few hang-ups with trying to integrate this expression into our every day vernacular. First, listeners may immediately associate the expression with the unfortunate Disney channel show about a teen psychic. However, psychics also imply a sort of mysticism, too, even if psychics are more of a joke than anything else. This cultural connection could help better ease those into using the phrase, though, if they see that the adopted meaning of the expression maintains some relevancy to its source material.
Another potential problem is simply the fact that people may not immediately understand what one means upon proclaiming, "That's so raven!" After all, someone may assume that you simply diverged into a non sequiter about a defunct television show and everyone knows that that's not the way to maintain social fluidity. However, a few concise, articulate explanations (see the above list as potential source material) may clear up any potential confusion that may occur.
So, today, I appreciate the discussion of turning "That's so raven!" into an every day catch phrase because not only is it exciting to think about how we have the power to change our language, but it's also a rather fun and energizing process to simply create discussion with wonderful people about even the silliest of topics.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Today I Appreciate Los Angeles Weather
Weather is never, ever something someone should take for granted. I'm probably not really one to talk, given the fact that I've lived in California my entire life and have never experienced living in terrible weather conditions, but the fact that it's sunshiny almost every day in L.A. will never cease to amaze and delight me.
In short, I'm blaming the weather for the fact that I haven't written the past four days? Five days? Eek. I'm lagging on this. Keep me motivated!
Anyway, it's not that I'm an "active" or "sporty" person, but rather I enjoy letting the sun soak all the way through me. I love it when my hair gets so hot, I can barely touch it without feeling like I just burnt my hand. I love it when I feel like the sun melts my chilly toes. Therefore, I've spent the past few days outside as much as possible, starting with Friday, where I sat reading a book outside for a few hours, then yesterday when I trekked through L.A.'s Runyan Canyon, and then today, walking to and from the library.
It's a cliche, but weather really is a mood lifter. As much as I enjoy the smell of rain, the peaceful soporific sensations one gets when the air is gray and cloudy, and the slower pace of a cold day, I'm more energized by brightness, by activity, and by the sense of movement that one feels on a sunny day. Some days, I just want to suck up the sun's rays through a needle and inject it through my blood stream, so I never feel at a loss for energy.
The only problem with sunshine is that while it initially energizes, it can also burn you out (no pun intended) quickly. For every day I've spent running around outside, I've finished the day completely exhausted, longing to return to bed. Alas, the sun is a merciless force (for better or for worse) and also cuts off my sleep before my body would ideally like, streaming through my windows early in the morning, beckoning me to recycle my energy all over again.
I'm not sure I would like it any other way, though. I appreciate the climate's desire to get me moving, to get me active, and to get me engaged. Otherwise, I know that I'd spend my days holed up in my room with a book, probably pretty content, but not quite as excited, not quite as ready to keep exploring and discovering more.
Again, weather affecting mood is a bit cliche and nothing terribly groundbreaking in my own personal reflection, but sometimes it's exactly what one needs to realize that every day truly is a new day and that minor setbacks can at least be temporarily dissipated with a good shot of fresh air and sunny skies in one's system.
In short, I'm blaming the weather for the fact that I haven't written the past four days? Five days? Eek. I'm lagging on this. Keep me motivated!
Anyway, it's not that I'm an "active" or "sporty" person, but rather I enjoy letting the sun soak all the way through me. I love it when my hair gets so hot, I can barely touch it without feeling like I just burnt my hand. I love it when I feel like the sun melts my chilly toes. Therefore, I've spent the past few days outside as much as possible, starting with Friday, where I sat reading a book outside for a few hours, then yesterday when I trekked through L.A.'s Runyan Canyon, and then today, walking to and from the library.
It's a cliche, but weather really is a mood lifter. As much as I enjoy the smell of rain, the peaceful soporific sensations one gets when the air is gray and cloudy, and the slower pace of a cold day, I'm more energized by brightness, by activity, and by the sense of movement that one feels on a sunny day. Some days, I just want to suck up the sun's rays through a needle and inject it through my blood stream, so I never feel at a loss for energy.
The only problem with sunshine is that while it initially energizes, it can also burn you out (no pun intended) quickly. For every day I've spent running around outside, I've finished the day completely exhausted, longing to return to bed. Alas, the sun is a merciless force (for better or for worse) and also cuts off my sleep before my body would ideally like, streaming through my windows early in the morning, beckoning me to recycle my energy all over again.
I'm not sure I would like it any other way, though. I appreciate the climate's desire to get me moving, to get me active, and to get me engaged. Otherwise, I know that I'd spend my days holed up in my room with a book, probably pretty content, but not quite as excited, not quite as ready to keep exploring and discovering more.
Again, weather affecting mood is a bit cliche and nothing terribly groundbreaking in my own personal reflection, but sometimes it's exactly what one needs to realize that every day truly is a new day and that minor setbacks can at least be temporarily dissipated with a good shot of fresh air and sunny skies in one's system.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Today I Appreciate the Following Quote I Heard in Class:
"Optimists are simply people who don't have all of the information."
This, apparently, was something a raving, homeless man told one of my classmates on a New York subway. My classmate cited this quote because she will be teaching a course on the psychology of happiness (interestingly enough, eh?) and used this quote on her syllabus. A lot of other people in the class really didn't understand the purpose of the quote.
"Isn't that quote counter-intuitive to the idea of happiness?"
"Doesn't it seem really negative to say that optimists are also dumb?"
Well, no. See, I happened to really enjoy and appreciate this quote because it raises an importance distinction between optimism and happiness, namely that optimism and happiness are not the same thing.
What I've come to discover through both this blog and just by living and coping and trying to understand how I'm feeling and who I am is that being happy is not necessarily exuding unending hope or joy. In fact, I'm happiest when I'm simply satisfied, content, and at peace. As a consequence of satisfaction or contentment or peace, I may feel momentarily giddy that I enjoyed a pleasant book or discussed a great piece of writing or had a really wonderful, long conversation with a friend or had a fun social interaction, but rather extended periods of engaging in stimulating thought and enjoying true, loyal friendships with thoughtful people.
I'd still say that I have long way to go towards total, complete happiness, but I can experience moments of optimism that can raise my mood and can contribute to achieving long-term satisfaction.
See, the thing is, I agree with the crazy, homeless man (I hope this doesn't speak volumes about my own mental state). I agree that unquestioning hopefulness towards the world and a perpetually bright spirit indicates a sort of daftness and an inability (or perhaps even unwillingness?) to examine that which is in front of you. Optimism can be blind to circumstances that are negative. Optimism implies, for me, a sort of non-judgmental stance on the world. I wouldn't say that criticism and judgment necessarily lead to happiness either, but in order to find contentment, distinguishing (and therefore judging) between what's important to you and what isn't, what fits into your set of values and what doesn't, seems absolutely vital.
I feel as though optimism, too, can often lead to a lot of unhappiness. While hope in the face of conflict/loss/depression can be uplifting, it can also eventually lead to a lot of disappointment. After all, there are moments in which you shouldn't be hopeful; that's called delusion. Not that one should strive towards wallowing in never-ending pain, but one should at least face and accept one's reality before finding ways to heal and overcome said reality.
I'm making it sound as though being an optimist is easy (it isn't) and I still strive towards optimism more than pessimism in my own life, but adopting optimism without judgment or thought seems, to me, a destructive approach and one that doesn't contribute towards achieving happiness.
It's funny to me that I feel as though I can logically understand these concepts and this psychology and yet still not wholly apply it to my own life. These reflections, these thoughts are coming from someone who some days still feels overwhelmed with emotion, who still tries to overcome anxiety, sadness, and loneliness, and who still indulgently dialogues with herself about how no one else understands the magnitude of her suffering and other such angst. I can distance myself from such feelings when I want to, but other times it feels all-consuming.
Ultimately, this struggle is part of being - well - human, but here I am still figuring out how I fit in on the spectrum of happy and healthy people. I'm getting there, aren't I?
This, apparently, was something a raving, homeless man told one of my classmates on a New York subway. My classmate cited this quote because she will be teaching a course on the psychology of happiness (interestingly enough, eh?) and used this quote on her syllabus. A lot of other people in the class really didn't understand the purpose of the quote.
"Isn't that quote counter-intuitive to the idea of happiness?"
"Doesn't it seem really negative to say that optimists are also dumb?"
Well, no. See, I happened to really enjoy and appreciate this quote because it raises an importance distinction between optimism and happiness, namely that optimism and happiness are not the same thing.
What I've come to discover through both this blog and just by living and coping and trying to understand how I'm feeling and who I am is that being happy is not necessarily exuding unending hope or joy. In fact, I'm happiest when I'm simply satisfied, content, and at peace. As a consequence of satisfaction or contentment or peace, I may feel momentarily giddy that I enjoyed a pleasant book or discussed a great piece of writing or had a really wonderful, long conversation with a friend or had a fun social interaction, but rather extended periods of engaging in stimulating thought and enjoying true, loyal friendships with thoughtful people.
I'd still say that I have long way to go towards total, complete happiness, but I can experience moments of optimism that can raise my mood and can contribute to achieving long-term satisfaction.
See, the thing is, I agree with the crazy, homeless man (I hope this doesn't speak volumes about my own mental state). I agree that unquestioning hopefulness towards the world and a perpetually bright spirit indicates a sort of daftness and an inability (or perhaps even unwillingness?) to examine that which is in front of you. Optimism can be blind to circumstances that are negative. Optimism implies, for me, a sort of non-judgmental stance on the world. I wouldn't say that criticism and judgment necessarily lead to happiness either, but in order to find contentment, distinguishing (and therefore judging) between what's important to you and what isn't, what fits into your set of values and what doesn't, seems absolutely vital.
I feel as though optimism, too, can often lead to a lot of unhappiness. While hope in the face of conflict/loss/depression can be uplifting, it can also eventually lead to a lot of disappointment. After all, there are moments in which you shouldn't be hopeful; that's called delusion. Not that one should strive towards wallowing in never-ending pain, but one should at least face and accept one's reality before finding ways to heal and overcome said reality.
I'm making it sound as though being an optimist is easy (it isn't) and I still strive towards optimism more than pessimism in my own life, but adopting optimism without judgment or thought seems, to me, a destructive approach and one that doesn't contribute towards achieving happiness.
It's funny to me that I feel as though I can logically understand these concepts and this psychology and yet still not wholly apply it to my own life. These reflections, these thoughts are coming from someone who some days still feels overwhelmed with emotion, who still tries to overcome anxiety, sadness, and loneliness, and who still indulgently dialogues with herself about how no one else understands the magnitude of her suffering and other such angst. I can distance myself from such feelings when I want to, but other times it feels all-consuming.
Ultimately, this struggle is part of being - well - human, but here I am still figuring out how I fit in on the spectrum of happy and healthy people. I'm getting there, aren't I?
Monday, January 26, 2009
Today I Appreciate My Coworker, With Whom I Stole Paper Cups For Tea
At my job, we have a coffee maker, a water heater, and tea bags, but alas, there are no cups. This lack of cups deems all of the aforementioned items completely useless, which is sad. Very sad.
I worked at the same place last year as a writing tutor and it seemed as though our snack bar was significantly more loaded up with cookies, crackers, chips, and other snacking items. Oh, and cups.
So, my coworker, Laila, and I decided it was about darned time we got some cups! With both of us working three hour shifts tonight, we decided caffeine would be an asset to actually, you know, helping us help students write.
Alas, grocery stores are not within easy walking distance from the tutoring center as we work up near the residence halls on campus. However, there's a quick-service cafe ("BruinCafe" otherwise known as "B Caf" to those cool enough to shorten it) right near the dorms that hosts a plethora of paper cups. Surely they'd be willing to give up a couple for the cause of tea?
In a break between sessions, Laila and I make our way down to B Caf (yes, I'm one of those cool enough people to abbreviate BruinCafe as such) and head straight towards the coffee section of the cafe because we figured, you know, coffee cups would be best for hot drinks. Laila bravely asks one of the baristas (is B Caf fancy enough to have baristas? A debatable point for later) for one of the cups, and...
"No. Sorry."
Laila and I look at each other.
"You can't just give us a cup for - um - water?" Laila asks.
The worker, strapped into an unfortuante apron and visor uniform shook her head again.
"No." That was it. Note that we were the only ones in the cafe at this point, staring at the stack of coffee cups waiting, just waiting, for delicious tea to fill them. No one was exactly clamboring for coffee at 6:30 PM, anyway.
We would not let this bureacracy-tied barista stop us from fulfilling our caffeinated dreams, however. Upon exiting, we saw stacks of paper Pepsi cups beside an unattended cash register. We look at each other again and nod. Perfect. Without saying a word, we follow out of B Caf and each swipe one cup from the top of the stack. Empty paper cups in hand, we giggle all the way back to the tutoring center about our stealthy accomplishment. True, we only stole about 5 cents' (if not less) worth of glass - er - plasticware from UCLA, but it still felt like a secret mission and accomplishment in which we could revel and savor the sweet taste of clever victory.
This post is not to endorse stealing, of course. In fact, stealing is bad. However, there's something that inherently bonds people together when they share a secret mission or goal together, even if it's for something as silly as some cups to make some tea.
The only sad part about this story is that the water heater at our tutoring center doesn't work. So, after all of that adventure, we found ourselves still tea-less in the end. However, the adventure was half the fun, anyway, and the conversation with all of the tutor-less coworkers kept us awake enough that the time at work flew by without any yawns or sleepiness.
I worked at the same place last year as a writing tutor and it seemed as though our snack bar was significantly more loaded up with cookies, crackers, chips, and other snacking items. Oh, and cups.
So, my coworker, Laila, and I decided it was about darned time we got some cups! With both of us working three hour shifts tonight, we decided caffeine would be an asset to actually, you know, helping us help students write.
Alas, grocery stores are not within easy walking distance from the tutoring center as we work up near the residence halls on campus. However, there's a quick-service cafe ("BruinCafe" otherwise known as "B Caf" to those cool enough to shorten it) right near the dorms that hosts a plethora of paper cups. Surely they'd be willing to give up a couple for the cause of tea?
In a break between sessions, Laila and I make our way down to B Caf (yes, I'm one of those cool enough people to abbreviate BruinCafe as such) and head straight towards the coffee section of the cafe because we figured, you know, coffee cups would be best for hot drinks. Laila bravely asks one of the baristas (is B Caf fancy enough to have baristas? A debatable point for later) for one of the cups, and...
"No. Sorry."
Laila and I look at each other.
"You can't just give us a cup for - um - water?" Laila asks.
The worker, strapped into an unfortuante apron and visor uniform shook her head again.
"No." That was it. Note that we were the only ones in the cafe at this point, staring at the stack of coffee cups waiting, just waiting, for delicious tea to fill them. No one was exactly clamboring for coffee at 6:30 PM, anyway.
We would not let this bureacracy-tied barista stop us from fulfilling our caffeinated dreams, however. Upon exiting, we saw stacks of paper Pepsi cups beside an unattended cash register. We look at each other again and nod. Perfect. Without saying a word, we follow out of B Caf and each swipe one cup from the top of the stack. Empty paper cups in hand, we giggle all the way back to the tutoring center about our stealthy accomplishment. True, we only stole about 5 cents' (if not less) worth of glass - er - plasticware from UCLA, but it still felt like a secret mission and accomplishment in which we could revel and savor the sweet taste of clever victory.
This post is not to endorse stealing, of course. In fact, stealing is bad. However, there's something that inherently bonds people together when they share a secret mission or goal together, even if it's for something as silly as some cups to make some tea.
The only sad part about this story is that the water heater at our tutoring center doesn't work. So, after all of that adventure, we found ourselves still tea-less in the end. However, the adventure was half the fun, anyway, and the conversation with all of the tutor-less coworkers kept us awake enough that the time at work flew by without any yawns or sleepiness.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Today I Appreciate Not for Tourists
I'm a sucker for novelty, as long as it's not something too dangerous, scary, or emotionally/physically exhausting. Therefore, a guidebook like Not for Tourists is perfect for people like me because I can seek out novelty in the L.A. area and flip through pages of tidy maps that tell me where to go without having to actually really go to any of these places.
That's not to say that I don't want to go to any of these places. Au contraire, I would go to all if I could, but one can only do so much and reading about fun places is half the fun of actually going, right?
See, I was prompted to flip through my NFT guide tonight in an attempt to formulate some late night plans. As a college student, I am supposed to act and find great adventures spontaneously, but that's not really my style. Spontaneity, in my opinion, typically does not emerge at the most convenient times, so relying on it to strike on a Saturday night and magically find something exciting to do seems like a bit of a crapshoot. Besides, I'm a planner in general. I make to-do lists every day. I e-mail party invitations. Yep, I'm that kid.
My age, unfortunately, prevents me from visiting some of Los Angeles's classier nightlife joints, but who knew that there was a restaurant on the Sunset Strip open late with a mechanical bull? Apparently, there are also several karoake joints that stay open until 6:00 A.M. and kitschy beach-themed diners. Cool, right? Imagine what kind of people frequent these places, what faces one could see, and what conversations one could overhear.
Restaurants and clubs are, after all, feature some of the most varied smattering of individuals. Probably not the finest individuals in Hollywood, but at least some characters that provide good stories and insights into - well - who we all are. There's a piece of us in every drunken twenty-something, every gaggle of giggling high schoolers, every forty-year-old couple. Plus, I constantly itch to escape from the college apartment party, the cloistered soirees on someone's mom's old couch with with indistinguishable movie noise coming from the TV.
So, thanks to Not for Tourists for letting me dream about the possibilities to explore and be an active young person in this huge, huge city.
That's not to say that I don't want to go to any of these places. Au contraire, I would go to all if I could, but one can only do so much and reading about fun places is half the fun of actually going, right?
See, I was prompted to flip through my NFT guide tonight in an attempt to formulate some late night plans. As a college student, I am supposed to act and find great adventures spontaneously, but that's not really my style. Spontaneity, in my opinion, typically does not emerge at the most convenient times, so relying on it to strike on a Saturday night and magically find something exciting to do seems like a bit of a crapshoot. Besides, I'm a planner in general. I make to-do lists every day. I e-mail party invitations. Yep, I'm that kid.
My age, unfortunately, prevents me from visiting some of Los Angeles's classier nightlife joints, but who knew that there was a restaurant on the Sunset Strip open late with a mechanical bull? Apparently, there are also several karoake joints that stay open until 6:00 A.M. and kitschy beach-themed diners. Cool, right? Imagine what kind of people frequent these places, what faces one could see, and what conversations one could overhear.
Restaurants and clubs are, after all, feature some of the most varied smattering of individuals. Probably not the finest individuals in Hollywood, but at least some characters that provide good stories and insights into - well - who we all are. There's a piece of us in every drunken twenty-something, every gaggle of giggling high schoolers, every forty-year-old couple. Plus, I constantly itch to escape from the college apartment party, the cloistered soirees on someone's mom's old couch with with indistinguishable movie noise coming from the TV.
So, thanks to Not for Tourists for letting me dream about the possibilities to explore and be an active young person in this huge, huge city.
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