Echo

We went over to The Standard on the Strip afterwards to meet up with her friend, Jason, and his roommate Bill. I’ve never met Bill but Sarita’s told me that Bill’s a model who looks exactly like Justin Timberlake. So when he walked through the door, I knew it was him…he looks EXACTLY like Justin Timberlake. I mean, EXACTLY. Same fresh style and everything. It was hard not to stare. Apparently, he gets mistaken quite a bit which is good for him and his potential sex life with drunk teenagers.

First of all, that was my first time actually having a drink at The Standard. I’ve looked around before, but have never been in the lounge that’s hidden behind the restaurant. I christened the lounge “The Cheesedick Lounge.” You have to see it to believe it. It’s cheesy and looks like the set of a USA made-for-TV movie, which looks distinctly like a cokehead’s haven. And all the guys in there looked incredibly sleazy and fairly European. I don’t think I’ll be going back.

Some random things:

-at dinner yesterday, Sarita kept getting Happy Birthday phone calls. So when my mom called, I decided to mess around. Conversation as follows:

I answer the phone (note: I have a loud restaurant in the background).

JULIA (seductively): So…what are you wearing?”
MOM: HELLO????
JULIA (seductively): What are you wearing?
MOM: WHAT? WHERE AM I GOING?
JULIA: No. What are you wearing?
MOM: WHAT DO I WEIGH????
JULIA: WHAT. ARE. YOU. WEARING.
MOM: WHAT AM I WEARING?
JULIA: YES.
MOM: Um…orange shirt…an orange t-shirt. Black gym pants. I just got back from the gym. Why?
JULIA: I’m just kidding. I was trying to be sexy.
MOM: WHAT?
JULIA: I WAS TRYING TO BE SEXY.
MOM: WHAT?
JULIA: Nevermind.

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/0423041friends2.html

But given the state of my current employment, I’m tempted to go up to him tomorrow morning and say, “Look, I’m only going to be walking by here every weekday for about two more weeks so let’s take it to the next level and have a conversation soon, okay?”

But then again, here I am thinking that maybe this guy has a passing crush on me, when it’s just as likely that he’s thinking about how great I would look dismembered in his trunk on my way to being buried in the canyons somewhere. Ah…LA. How you taunt me when I’m single.

4/26 Recap:

So my work situation. I’m not going to say too much about it since specifics regarding my professional life, just as with specifics regarding my actual dating/relationship life, are things that I’m pretty private about out of respect to the people involved. But I have to say it’s been really frustrating. But in the bigger picture, things always work out the way they need to so I try not to spend too much time agonizing.

I left at lunch time to go run some errands and discovered my driver side mirror completely ripped off the frame and dangling by a few exposed wires. Not what I needed today but I was surprisingly zen about it. Luckily, the person responsible had left a note. I realized I couldn’t drive with it this way, since I didn’t know how to detach the wires to completely remove the mirror, so I had to drive with my window open as I held the mirror with my left hand to prevent it from slamming against my door and steered with my right. I went directly to the mechanic and he estimated it would cost $1400. Fucking beemers. But at least I won’t be the one paying for it. He figured it would take 3-10 days to fix so I had to rent a car. There was a car rental right across the street, and the only cars they had were an Astrovan and an Infiniti FX35. Well fuck yeah, I took the Infiniti. Because I totally want that car. And mama don’t drive no minivan.

So I’m about to sound like the very materialistic LA yuppie punks that I hate, but man, that car is awesome. I check it out on the internet sometimes at work–it’s the car I would love to have if I had the money to get a new car. But sometimes I look at it and think, they’re actually really odd-looking and ugly. So odd-looking and ugly, that they go right off the scale and land right back in “attractive.” Sort of like pugs. And troll dolls. And my ex-boyfriend. (just kidding) It’s beautiful inside and feels like you’re driving a tank. The handling is decent and there’s a steptronic manual shift. The only bad things are that the rear window and side mirrors are odd shapes, so they take some getting used to, and you have to really punch the gas to go in reverse.

I’ve never been so excited about a rental car. And plus, you know how cars often fit their owner’s personalities? My personality doesn’t really fit the bmw stereotype (other than wanting to be Michelle Yeoh from that Bond movie with the mad BMWs). I’m probably more of a compact sports utility gal. Or definitely the hybrid SUV kind of person when they come out. But while I’ve got an awesome car and have no plans to trade it in, I’m definitely gonna look for excuses to drive around town this week.

I came home from work and changed into a t-shirt and gym pants and drove to Costco. First of all, I love just chillin’ in comfortable clothes and flipflops, and I love people who are comfortable doing the same. I drove over to Costco and had a blast getting there–the freeway was fairly empty and I was cruising with the windows down and the music up. I picked up some chicken breasts and drumsticks to make more jerk chicken with. I’m trying to work out the recipe and this time I put some tapatio sauce and red pepper flakes in the marinade to try to make it more spicy. I ended up broiling the legs and slow simmering the breasts. The drumsticks came out AMAZING. Very crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, with a spicy kick. The breasts turned out well but took longer to cook so we’ll probably have them tomorrow.

Last night I was surfing radio stations for something different. I love KCRW because of how it exposes me to new and unique music that I don’t hear on the major stations. But in my sleep-deprived, delirious state, I thought I would just surf around and try to find those really small “mom and pop” stations.

I listened to a Spanish station for a while and I noticed how you can distinguish real music from consumer-oriented pop music, even if the songs are in a different language. You can feel the level of “soul” in the track if you really attune yourself.

I found a station where a woman was narrating in a foreign language. Mind you, I was doing this at 3:30AM so I was pretty exhausted, but I had a hard time telling which language she was speaking in at first. My first thought was Italian, then Japanese. Those seem like completely different languages, but because I was so tired, I could hear similar linguistic characteristics between the two. Then I realized it was Korean because I know a few random words in Korean. I thought it would be interesting to try to listen to the woman in a way that completely ignores the words in order to focus on the underlying meaning. It suddenly intrigued me how the American Indians were able to communicate with the settlers. How were some Indians able to learn English, given that they had no basis for understanding this completely foreign system of communication? It amazes me. I was sitting there, listening to this woman speak, imagining how, if I completely surrounded myself with this language, constantly listened to speakers and had no language guides such as books or tapes, I would still be able to eventually understand the language. Isn’t it amazing how something can have no meaning at one point, and suddenly have such clear, definite meaning at a later point?

In other news, just posted photos on my website in the Photo section and bio page. I’ll link everyone up with their own profiles when I have more time.

Lauren and I were good today and went to the gym in the morning. Later, Brian and I went to lunch at Coral Tree Cafe in Brentwood; I highly recommend the chicken panini. I’ve discovered the problem with Brentwood (other than the innocent celebrities who kill their ex-wives). There are too many Type A personalities and too few parking spaces. When I was looking to buy a condo, I checked out a lot of places in Brentwood and my #1 complaint was the parking situation. I figured, no one would ever visit me because they wouldn’t be able to find a place to park.

I went home and napped for the rest of the day. Seriously. Work stress is killing me. But here’s the thing. I went into my supervisor’s office yesterday and more or less asked for less work and more money. And he agreed, though he’s going to have to take it up with the owner. But my mom has called me every other day for the past three weeks, ever since I told her that our building has an asbestos situation, begging me to leave the job. So if they come back and give me less work and more money, do I still tell them that I won’t work there unless they move the company to a less hazardous building? Originally, I had wanted to leave but give them the option of keeping me on as a marketing consultant so I can work from home. I have no idea what to do. I just know that I’ve been getting sick a lot more since I started working there, and I’ve had a two week headache lately so I’m definitely heading towards burnout. I can’t imagine how associates at the big law firms do it. Most of my friends who are lawyers do the 80 hrs a week for a couple of years out of law school but then move on, but I swear those two years take about 15 off their lifespans.

I went with Roxie, Penny and Lizzy to an art event at Imee’s artist’s space downtown. There was a lot of interesting art…but my favorite thing was a bookshelf in the bathroom where Imee stored her books. There was a copy of “Anal Pleasure and Health” next to Dr. Seuss’s “Green Eggs and Ham.” Completely unintentional but hilarious. I should have taken a picture.

http://www.margotknight.com/margot.html

http://www.cirp.org/library/procedure/plastibell/

Yes, I still have no idea how it works because I was too busy trying to close the window that the page was on with my eyes closed and my body twisted as far away from the computer monitor as possible.

OH MY GOD. So I just went and asked the guys to explain how a circumcision works because I couldn’t stomach the site. So one guy just told me that the way they used to do it would be…when the baby is 8 days old, they would give him wine, perform the surgery, and then the rabbi would suck on the baby’s penis to get the bleeding to stop.

Yes, some Jewish boys start out life by getting drunk and getting a blowjob from a rabbi.

I got a call today from a guy at one of the companies we work with, and he was responding to an email I had sent them a few months ago. He said that the person I sent it to didn’t respond because she’s deceased. I don’t think I’ve ever worked with her because I was contacting her for my boss, but it made me really sad. Then Brian messaged to say that a friend of someone he knows hung himself on Monday.

I had a massive headache so I left early. I dropped by Starbucks to say hi to Whitney and Mul who were writing. Calvin was there and was wearing a hat that said, “It’s Not Gonna Lick Itself.” AWESOME.

I’m going to go to bed early today.

I read at the open mic tonight. I did “Prozac” and “One More Thing About My Mother.” It was cool because I got a lot of laughs at the beginning of “Mother,” and then when I get to the part about coming home to find my mother’s body, I got kind of emotional and people got really quiet and when it was done, the room was silent. Then I said, “My mother didn’t really kill herself.” And everyone just kind of breathed again and someone yelled, “You made all that up?” And I laughed and said, “Of course.” The host gave me props for doing well and being calm and composed for my first time, but I was totally shaking inside. But I’m glad I did it. Wow. Growing up, my shyness was damn near paralyzing. I’m amazed that I’ve managed to do what I did tonight.

There were some incredible performers tonight. A sampling of gems: “Fighting for peace is like fucking for virginity.” “A girl told me once that she doesn’t swallow because she’s Vegan.” “If you get your hand caught in the cookie jar, use it as a weapon.” “I hate my bed and I hate your bed, and I hate that I woke up in your bed.”

The last performance was the most amazing thing I have ever seen. This HUGE hispanic guy put on some gonad-shaking tribal music and tore up the stage with this rant that was the most fucking raw, violent, excruciatingly delightful output of emotion and rage that I have ever seen. My eyes must have been bugged out for the whole ten minutes. After he was done, the host went up and said, “I just want everyone to know that Manuel just had sex with all of you.” And it was true. It felt like I had just been raped by a chainsaw and the gaping, ragged hole it left in me was morbidly satisfying.

You know that moment when you suddenly realize you’re completely intrigued by someone for seemingly no apparent reason, and you find your mind constantly drifting off, wondering who this person is and what his life is like, and you have a deep burning curiousity to find out?

I briefly dated a guy once who wasn’t good enough for me. My friends and family are usually very supportive of the things I do, but for the first time, several of them pulled me aside on different occasions and told me that he shouldn’t be in my life. It wasn’t just that he wasn’t that physically attractive (which is subjective anyway; you’ll think someone is good-looking if you really like who he is), but he had a really ugly personality–incredibly insecure, selfish and sadistically cruel. But he played the victim well, which was how I got drawn into that mess. In hindsight, I learned a lot from those months–about myself, about what I want and deserve, and about not feeling obligated to take home one-eyed, three-legged kittens from the dumpster that keep clawing me when I can have a healthy one. The hardest thing to realize was that I was with him because I felt sorry for him, and that at no point did I ever LIKE him as a person; that made me really question myself. Regardless, at the end of the day, feeling sorry for someone is an absolutely terrible and destructive reason to be in a relationship and I’ve definitely learned my lesson.

So he broke up with me and gave me the same sort of bullshit statements that didn’t make a whole lot of sense given the context (sorta like what Amber’s blind date was spewing). The following weeks were difficult because I was trying to make sense of the rejection and pretty much beating myself up over it, forgetting that I was just letting my ego wrap around being rejected and taking it out on myself, rather than putting into perspective who that rejector was and realizing that it was actually AWESOME that he ejected himself from my life.

One day, Roxie and Lauren were over and I was being somewhat mopey. So Roxie tells me this story:

There was this guy who liked one of her friends. Her friend is really pretty, charismatic and fun and a lot of guys like her. So there was this one short, ugly Mexican guy who wasn’t in her league at all who liked her but she wasn’t interested. He was very persistent and really sweet to her so finally, she started hanging out with him. At the beginning, he showered her with attention, but the more she got into him, the worse he treated her. Finally one day, he broke up with her abruptly. Her friend became obsessed with him after the breakup and became a wreck, completely FORGETTING that she hadn’t even been that interested in him to begin with before he started taking away his attention! It was all about a wounded ego. The whole thing in her head wasn’t even about him. If it were about him, she would have seen that he wasn’t that great to begin with and whatever. But when ego got involved, it became this thing of, “This guy who isn’t even on my level just dumped me, so what does that mean about me???” In reality? It means nothing. But from the way she was seeing the situation, it wrecked her self-esteem.

It’s not worth it. Someone once told me, never date ugly guys. They’re the ones that treat you like shit. Some girls mistakenly go for less attractive guys because they think they’ll be easier to get. The first problem with doing this is that this action is indicative of low self-esteem. Furthermore, if these “ugly” guys are insecure themselves, they’ll fuck with the girls, especially when they think the girl is too good for them. So theoretically, the good-looking guys will actually treat you better.

It’s probably not so much about good-looking versus not. Again, it comes down to confidence and self-respect. When a person respects himself or herself, he or she will be capable of respecting other people. Those who do not respect themselves have no capacity to truly respect other people. Similarly, when people are confident, they can put things into perspective better and not let insecurities and competition run rampant. They don’t have black holes for self-esteem that end up needing to destroy anything that comes too close to them, or that shines brighter than they do (or shine at all, for that matter). They can handle conflict more productively because they understand that disagreements don’t threaten their sense of self and therefore, are not dangerous. Dr. Phil (I’m so sorry to quote him but a psychologist friend of mine told me this) once said, you can tell if a couple will last just by watching them fight. From all of the couples I’ve observed in couples’ counseling, this is incredibly true. You watch a couple that goes for each other’s throats, and you realize how destructive the relationship is for both partners. Versus, you watch a couple that can stay on each person’s respective side, and no matter how heated it gets, they understand that deep down, they respect each other and you can feel that respect anchoring them during disagreements and know that no matter what is said, nothing that was said or done was meant to intentionally hurt the other person, and that trust and respect is what keeps them together.

I’m finding that I’m spending most of my work day with my head in the clouds lately, just thinking about stuff. But I finished all my articles today so I’ve got some space to do that for a while.

I’m reading “Couldn’t Keep It to Myself,” which is an anthology of autobiographical essays written by incarcerated women. They were all participants in a writing workshop with my favorite author, Wally Lamb. These stories are incredibly powerful. The majority of women incarcerated in the United States have a history of being survivors of domestic and sexual abuse and the stories in this book contain examples of these common experiences. They show how abuse can really interfere and affect a person’s development and relationship to their environment. When the women discuss themselves as children, you can see how, with a more nurturing environment, the lives of these women could have very easily turned out differently and so much better. It’s really sad when some of them talk about how much they needed their parents’ love, how vulnerable they were to their parents, and the ways in which they were rejected and hurt, and how this need to be loved and subsequent rejection caused them to repeat patterns of getting into destructive situations or acting destructively.

Amber (www.ambernicole.blogspot.com) posted about a blind date in which, at the end of the night, the guy told her that she was awesome and the funniest person he’d ever met, but then goes on to tell her that he doesn’t want to see her again, citing:

when a guy gets to be his age (28, only three years older than i) they become very selective, and know exactly what they want and don’t want.

Amber was initially shocked but then appreciated his honesty and thought it showed his good nature and character.

************

FUCK THAT!

The guy is a narrow-minded, shallow, cowardly dick who was too scared to get to know you as a person. Because if you were as cool as he thought, he wouldn’t have minded getting to know you possibly as a friend or acquaintance, rather than saying that he never wanted to see you again. He sounds really insecure. He probably went on one date with you, realized how much more charismatic, witty and intelligent you were than him, and rather than saying, I can appreciate her qualities or admitting, I think I’m intimidated by her, he lied to himself and said, she’s not my type. [because she makes my penis feel small]. That’s why he didn’t want to explore this anymore at all with you. If you just weren’t his type (ie The One), he would still be willing to hang out, or at least put that out there. He doesn’t want to see you at all, stating high and mighty bullshit about marriage and selectivity to make himself feel better. I can’t remember which comedian said this, but let me modify this line to serve my purposes: Amber, I would never hit a coward, but I sure as hell will SHAKE the shit out of him!

Dumbass.

Through all my dating experiences, the one thing that I’ve realized to be a dealbreaker across the boards is insecurity. Now don’t get me wrong, we’re all human and no one is 100% confident all the time. Also, arrogance is just the disgusting, aggressive defense mechanism of inner insecurity so that’s the ugly end of the dog, too. But a guy who knows and appreciates his own qualities enough to be able to appreciate other people’s, rather than being afraid of anyone who is in any way better than him, is so much more attractive and so much more FUNCTIONAL to be around, be it in a friendship or relationship. There’s probably more insecure scrub than guys with healthy confidence out there, but it’s nothing to get down about. The good ones are out there and they’re great people and worth it. At the end of the day, the others aren’t even worth wasting your time spinning your head over.

Not to bring it back to “Room Raiders,” but…

So one thing that pissed me off about the show. This Playboy jackass explains to the two girls he didn’t choose why he didn’t choose them. Both of them blubber out defenses as they’re leaving, saying they just want him to know blah blah blah. What pissed me off was, YOU GIRLS SHOULDN’T CARE WHAT THE FUCK THIS GUY THINKS. They could totally tell when they went through his room that he was a vapid personality.

If I were one of them, I would have left saying, “Yeah…maybe I sleep in footed pink one-piece pajama suits on a cot in my parents room surrounded by stuffed unicorns and I collect Magik cards and have a shrine dedicated to Aaron Carter, but I don’t fucking care what you think of me because you’re a big fucking cheesedick loser.” I hated that these girls were apologizing to this stupid guy when they obviously seemed cooler than him.

So the problem with rejection is just ego. Whenever you get turned down, you go nuts because of the rejection. But you have to try to keep in perspective who is turning you down. If you’re a cool girl, then chances are, he was some little person who couldn’t handle you and wasn’t good enough for you in the first place. Good thing he didn’t stick around to bring you down!