My Thoughts Exactly...

I love bunnies. I love cartoons. I love this song. And as for the subject matter, so apropros. Sigh. Enough said.

Why I'd Be A Poor Candidate For Grad School

My dad always wanted me to get an MBA. Not that I had any aptitude in business. He just felt like an MBA degree equated financial and job security for me. My parents finally gave up the harassment after 3 straight years of nagging. I can be quite stubborn to say the least.

Luckily my brother accomplished that dream. And several of my friends. Graduations have been my thing lately. Two in one week. Some people crash weddings. I attend graduations. And promptly ignore all the long-winded speeches by daydreaming and doodling because I have the attention span of a six year old.

Here's what I did at Wavy's graduation last week. The kid on the right didn't think much of the keynote speaker's speech either. He plugged his fingers in his ears the whole time.Ran out of blank space on the program and resorted to sketching these kids in my little notebook that I carry around everywhere. It was nice to sketch again, even if prompted by the strangest time and place to do so.

Work Hard, Play Hard

In the past week, I broke my rule of not working past 8pm every night. And to make up for the extra work and stress, I went out and socialized even more than usual, running the gamut from a rock concert to the ballet, to loud bars and an art show. I am exhausted.

Monday: Since Wavy is soon leaving SoCal, we decided she had to eat at Mulberry Street Pizza, hands down the best New York style pizza out here. When given the choice between Pinkberry and the Gelato shop for dessert, we stood in the middle of the street debating. I caved in to the more fattening gelato.

Tuesday: I was all dressed in my running gear, ready to meet up with Jigaho at the track, when Polar Opposite friend called. "It's raining. Let's just all have dinner instead." So instead of exercising, we headed to Tofu-Ya where I scarfed down a hearty meal of Soon Tofu and Bulgogi, washing it down with a Pinkberry frozen yogurt. I was the only one to eat EVERYTHING. I am like a goldfish that doesn't know how to stop eating what's in front of me.

Wednesday: Hit the Troubadour with Sly and another friend to see The Bravery. I only knew this song below and their latest single "Time Won't Let Me Go" but heard they were great live.


The lead singer is a little funny looking but his voice is a cross between Robert Smith of The Cure and a little bit of Morissey. I hung back at the bar where I could sit down and be the old lady that I am but I still enjoyed the energy of the band and its rabid fans packed together up front.

Thursday: I had friends in town this weekend, one of whom was the couple from Vegas. Since I was traditionally the "stunt double" who took the wife out to the ballet, we carried on the tradition and left the boys to fend for themselves (I think they went to watch turtle races at some local bar. Go figure.) Luckily the Joffrey Ballet was in town this same weekend and we caught Program A, the more classical of the two programs with music from actual Russian composers like Stravinsky. None of that modern dance stuff with people plopping around barefoot.

Friday: Another friend in town. This town, I met up with the college crew in Little Tokyo where we ate at a place that left us as hungry as we started. Izakaya Haru Ulala is a traditional Japanese tapas place, serving different food in tiny little dishes. Unfortunately, each dish took about 10 minutes to come out at a time.

We cut our losses about an hour later, making our way to Broadway Bar to meet up with more friends. (On a completely unrelated note, they were holding "So You Think You Can Dance" auditions next door at the Orpheum theater and I really really wanted to sneak in and watch instead of hanging out at a bar.) After straining my voice for about half an hour trying to talk over the loud music, we hopped to the next bar. Golden Gopher was more crowded and since some of us were still starving, drinking wasn't a great idea either. At least there were more interesting people to look at.

Sometimes, especially on weekends like this, I feel like I've lost any last bits of socializing skills I ever had. I never know what to do with bars. I rarely drink at bars because I know I'll have to drive myself somewhere else. I have a hard time talking loudly over the usual decibel level. I hate small talk. And, well, if you just sit there not drinking and not talking at a bar, really what's the point?

Anyway, we ended the night at a King Taco in downtown, a place I've managed to never notice or hear of the whole time I've lived in LA, probably because I've never liked Mexican food. Fortunately, this place was authentic and delicious. They had good meat and horchatas! Success.

Saturday: I promised the whole day to the Vegas couple. So I had brunch with them and another couple friend, followed them around for some shopping, had dinner at Typhoon (an Asian-fusion place that actually serves insects as part of their menu.) and attended his Art Show opening with an assortment of coworkers and former coworkers. Yay.

We went across the street to a bar called Good Hurt, where the bartenders dress like naughty nurses and a couple of very loud and not so good bands played on stage. Seeing that I had just endured loud bars the night before, I stuck in some ear plugs and sat down for awhile. (Yes I bring ear plugs with me everywhere in case I go to impromptu concerts.) As an added bonus a trio of bad burlesque dancers came on stage to do two numbers. After that, I was ready to go.

When another awful band started warming up, I stood up and said "I'M LEAVING." Surprisingly enough, the whole group followed me out. But as they loitered around outside of the bar chatting and saying their goodbyes, the cranky old lady in me snapped and in my head I thought "Ok, I'm done here" and I walked off. Just like that. The exhaustion, the cold, and the smoke swirling around me finally did me in. The week was done. And I was in bed soon after midnight.

Irreverent Art

While we searched for a place to eat before our movie, Ballet Dancer, her friend, and I wandered the Farmer's Market/The Grove and stumbled into the Jack Art Gallery, featuring Todd Goldman's silly artwork. Long ago, I owned one of his t-shirts, the one featuring this slogan:


It shrunk to the size of an 8 year old's tee just in time for me to stop wearing it anymore when it got banned on the list of bad things for little girls to wear to school. Parents were complaining it spread anti-boy messages and lowered their precious sons' self-esteem. I think I'll stop right there before I launch into a long-winded tirade.

Anyway, Mr. Goldman has tons more gems where that one came from. Here are a few of my favorites:



Hilarious to look at but I don't know if I'd like a giant painting of any of them hanging in my home. Maybe some postcard size ones. Maybe to hang in the bathroom. Seems fitting.

And We Are Live Once More...

Huzzah! We are with internet again! And when I say "we" I mean me and the cat because I know besides sleeping in my bed, she also surfs the web while I'm gone. I've been feeling like I live in the middle ages, but did manage to keep busy with all sorts of arts and culture while being disconnected from the world.

1) Last Friday, after a terrible day at work, I had a terrible time in traffic stumbling towards my alma mater to see Bloom, a series of modern dance performances set to Rufus Wainwright's music. A friend had comp tickets and since I'm all over the "free" I made my way out there, running up the steps and making it into the auditorium 15 minutes after the scheduled start time, just as the lights were dimming.

Some of the dances were beautiful but some were a bit too interpretive for my tastes. Like the one where they writhed on the floor for quite a while. Is it dancing if they don't get up on their feet?

2) On Tuesday night, after over a year of not drawing, I joined my polar opposite friend for a night of life drawing. I swear my pencils shuddered a little when I brought them into the light, having not been used since late 2005.

There were, however, a couple of strange things about this class.
- It runs from 10pm-2am
- It's in a dark sketchy looking industrial part of downtown LA, about a block away from the American Apparel factory
- It's not listed anywhere. Everyone heard about it from a friend of a friend of a friend...
- There is a bar
- There is a DJ
- There is a pool table in the corner
- People are smoking in there
- There's nearly 100 people in there. Half the people are sitting around the podium sketching and painting where the model(s) are posed but the other half are just milling about, socializing, smoking, and not drawing. That creeps me out.

I loved the music and unique ambiance, but I lasted only about an hour before the smell of cigarette and marijuana smoke nearly choked me to death. I'm not sure if and when I'm going back.

3) Last night, I once again trekked up to the alma mater to watch the Animation Show. I had planned on actually buying tickets, but one of the organizers sent me 20 comp tickets for the company. It was a big stress case to organize the group of coworkers and make sure they knew where to go, what to do... Basically doing my job outside of work. To the point where I wasn't enjoying myself as much as I should. I was so frazzled that I actually forgot my Polar Opposite Friend and left him behind at home. Something I've never done and something I felt so awful about, it plagued me for the rest of the night when he decided not to come to the show.

I liked over half the shorts but was exhausted by the end. Most of the people I invited showed up for dinner and the show but a few of them, the usual few, flaked. Though organizing large groups for these outings are stressful, I've also learned to let it go and not be too sad or disappointed when people bail at the last minute. Today, when one of those fools, aka The One, started in on his excuses of why he bailed, I just nodded, looked at him and said "You can't disappoint me anymore." I baffled him with my statement so elaborated a little more. "My expectations of you have been too lowered. There's not much you can do that will disappoint me now." It didn't play out as dramatic as it sounds - he kind of laughed it off and I gladly let him. But inside, knowing it was true, it felt great.

My Favorite San Francisco Day

As much as I love my attentive friend in SF, my favorite time during the holiday visit was the morning they left me to wander the city alone for a few hours. Nothing feels more like a vacation than wandering around a city center, visiting museums and snapping pictures. They dropped me off at the San Francisco Shopping Center (above picture) before heading to church. I walked through the Yerba Buena Gardens where I saw this funny sculpture of a downed boat.


With the hour and a half I had before meeting up with another friend for lunch, I hit the MOMA the way I always do. I took the elevator to the top floor, starting with the feature exhibit of Anselm Kiefer and, and slowly made my way down. I passed through the Edward Weston and Tina Modotti photography exhibit, finishing down in the modern collections from the early 1900's. Sprinklings of Picasso, Matisse, Pollack and others I haven't heard of wrapped up the 2nd floor.


My only complaint - blank canvases passing as contemporary art. I may not understand all contemporary art, but I'd like to think I'm more openminded than most. I often get bored at art films in museums, but I understand what the artists aspire to convey. However, when an artist just paints a canvas all white, all blue, all whatever color they choose, that's just plain lazy. Anything that requires paragraphs of explanation and interpretation from the curator is trying too hard. I've seen various blank canvases in contemporary museums around the world and every time, I think "they've gotten so lazy or egotistical they think 'yup, this is enough.'" At least paint a circle in the middle of it. Or add some stripes. Anything.

This is the entrance to Macy's. To me, this is a cooler piece of art than any blank canvas.

Old Friends

"Girl Before a Mirror"

The beauty of art is in the interpretation. I have no idea if Picasso meant for this painting and all his other bizarrely beautiful Cubist paintings to mean distorted views of ourselves and the world, but that's the way I embrace them.
This is one of my favorite Picasso paintings. I first saw it back in 1998 when LACMA hosted a huge (overpriced) Picasso exhibit and have a postcard of it taped to my door. To me, it represents the distorted views in which we see ourselves, something I and tons of women everywhere, struggle with on a daily basis. I may be 30, but deep down, I will always see myself as that nerdy awkward girl from junior high. It's that anchor that weighs my self-esteem down from time to time. The anchor that prevents me from being consistently confident about my looks. The anchor that seeks validation from silly boys, overly critical parents, and mean petty girls..
It's terrible that no matter how much my good friends compliment me, sometimes it's the words and actions of people who don't unconditionally love me that make the most impact. Over the weekend, I went to a birthday dinner and met up with some old friends I hardly see anymore. One of them in particular, a truly poised and cool beauty who looked exactly the same as the day I met her over ten years ago, struck up a conversation towards the end of the night. Over the years of our friendship, I never knew with her when she would be warm and open, or aloof and taciturn. That night, she was friendly and gregarious, complimenting me on the fact that I looked good, like I had lost weight and toned up. I.was.blown.away. It was like being thrown back to junior high and getting complimented by the most popular girl in school. It was one of the highlights of the evening, my encounter with this old friend.
As for the painting, I went to the MOMA in New York for the first time earlier this year. To my wonderful surprise, I saw Girl Before a Mirror and several Picasso's that I remembered from the LACMA exhibit years back. I had forgotten that the exhibit had been directly curated from sources such as MOMA. I left with a happy feeling inside, like I had just visited old friends.

Da Vinci = Rambaldi

For you Alias fans, I picked up this postcard at the Da Vinci exhibit in Chicago. Not only is it a beautiful sketch by the master himself, but it reminded me of the Sydney/Rambaldi drawing on Alias. After all, Rambaldi was pretty thinly veiled as a Leonardo type Renaissance man. Yeah, I'm a TV geek.