These are the days

These are the days. These are the days that rattle in my chest against the clanging of my tinny heartbeat. Soft thuds beating mercilessly against the cage of rib bone.

This is when every breath hurts. Every sigh feels full of the dust of broken glass. This is when every moment, every movement, feels false and numb. Dumb and lifeless. I want to run away, busy myself into a frantic tizzy to match the torrents swirling inside, but my body, my legs, my back, are made of hard cement and I can’t seem to go anywhere.

So please, let’s walk and get frozen yogurt. Let’s go to the beach and lay against the silky sand, bodies stretched beneath the fading sun. Let’s curl up on the sofa, you and I, and fall asleep heads and arms and hands tangled and intertwined. Let’s let the love soak in until I’m drunk and it’s dry.

These are the days when I can’t believe that I can’t believe she’s gone. And it’s the moments when I wish I didn’t still miss her, that I miss her most of all.

Hell AND High Water

So. This month was crazy. I mean, this summer has been crazy. As Bake and Shake put it:

June was a gut punch. July was tender and swollen as a result. August has been the Bruising and fear of Internal Bleeding month.

I look forward to September, the month of Revenge through Living Well and Coordinated Wild Dog Attacks.

Um yeah. And then I had to move in a week.

Basically, a month and a half ago my landlord offered me the leasing agent position for my building. I had been planning on moving to find cheaper rent and be closer to my new job, but this position at my building in Beverly Hills would have cut my rent in half, so I accepted. Three and a half weeks ago, without warning, my landlord withdrew her offer. She claimed the reason for her sudden retraction was due to my work schedule, but when I offered to rearrange it she ignored my e-mail for a week and then refused. Awesome.

After some back and forth over the course of the last couple weeks, me saying that since I signed a six month lease at the discounted rate, I would be staying at the building for six months at that price. It was not my fault that she didn't want me to perform the duties we both assumed I would be performing when I signed it-- it was still valid. She wrote back that she was refusing to honor the lease I signed last month, saying that because hadn't returned it to me yet, it was invalid. She said she would honor my initial 60-day notice on July 7th (putting my move-out date on September 5th). Then I wrote and asked for an extension at half rent in order to give her some more time to find a tenant, and me more than two weeks to find a new apartment. Last Friday she said that I am "misrepresenting the facts" and that I must vacate by the first of September or pay full rent for that month.

I was so hurt and angry and frustrated I could hardly see straight.

Ugh.

Last weekend I began the search to find a new apartment to move into this weekend. HELLO! It was a tall order, and I definitely saw some doozies of "apartments". My mind was definitely wandering into crazytown at points, starting to rationalize some pretty jenky situations because OH MY GOSH I HAVE TO MOVE IN SIX DAYS!!

But then I found it. Some friends of mine told me about a condo that some old friends of theirs had just sitting around, and told me to contact them about possibly moving in... WELL, today I found out I will be moving into that beautiful two bedroom condo right by my favorite LA family! I've recruited some muscles to help me move this weekend, and everything looks like it's going to work out beautifully.

So that's that.

Here's to living well and dog attacks.

Oh by the way, do you live in LA? Do you want to give/ lend/ steal me some furniture? I've got a big ol' condo to fill. :)

I Don't Know

I don’t care if you have a Ph.D you earned at Yale or in Scotland. Just stand in front of the mirror, all alone, nobody around, shrug, and say “I don’t know…I really don’t know.” You can add, “I can’t tell you why that happened. I don’t know.”

The great news is that God never shrugs. He never says that. With acute perception He says, “I know exactly why this happened. I know the way you take. I know why. I know how long you’ll be there and I know what will be the end result.”

Shrugging and deity are incompatible.

While you’re shrugging in genuine humility, saying “I don’t know,” He’s saying, “Good for you. Rely on me in the mystery. Trust me.” God never promised He would inform us ahead of time all about His plan. He’s just promised He has one. Ultimately, it’s for our good and His glory. He knows- we don’t. That’s why we shrug and admit, “I don’t know."

But I do know this: The death of His Son was not in vain. And I do know this: Christ died for you. And I do know this: If you believe in Him, He will forgive your sins and you will go to live with Him forever. You’ll have heaven and all the blessings of it, I do know that. It’s a tough journey, getting there. Full of a lot of confusion, a lot of struggle, a lot of shrugs followed by a lot of “I don’t knows.” But when the heavens open and we’re there, hey, there will be no more shrugs.

“Now I know.”

-Job: A Man of Heroic Endurance, Charles Swindoll

What Love

Wow. WOW.

You need to read this.

NY Times - Modern Love

What strength. What love.

Who ever said love was a pansy emotion?

Blog Challenge: Westminster Abbey

All right. This is it. The last day of Eric's and my epic, week-long blog challenge. And I'm not going to lie to you-- I saved the hardest one for last. I mean, someone buried in Westminster Abbey? REALLY Eric?!

Anyway.

I was going to do Princess Diana but then I realized she wasn't buried in Westminster Abbey, her funeral was just held there. I wonder if that had anything to do with the fact that she and Charles divorced... Anyone know? But moving on...

When looking at the list of people shacked up in the Abbey, I noticed two things: 1, I didn't recognize the vast majority of the names, and 2, most royals are named Anne, Edward, Charles, or Elizabeth. Unfortunate. I wonder if anyone ever got crazy and there's a Duchess Tiffany or something... Anyone know that one either?

ALL RIGHT! I'm SORRY! You just keep DISTRACTING ME! Back to the subject at hand: Laurence Olivier. I picked Mr. Hamlet himself because it was either him or Charles Darwin, and I know (and care) a lot more about theater than science. So here we are.

Interesting facts: really strict, severe religious household growing up-- dad was an Anglican priest. (HELLO! Scary.) Mom died when he was 12. (So sad.) In his first professional play he played Katherine in The Taming of the Shrew. (Um. Amazing.)

He was nominated for 14 Oscars (whoa), married to 3 women (yikes)-- including Vivien Leigh who played the Ophelia to his Hamlet in a play before either of them were famous in Hollywood.

To this day his performances as Hamlet, Henry V, Othello, and Richard III are considered the gold standard for the roles.

But enough of that book report, I'm going to be honest, Laurence Olivier always seemed really snotty to me. But he really looks like a stud here and it's sort of winning me over.

All right, that's it! Blog Challenge officially over! I hope you've enjoyed this week's random mish mash of topics, and if you haven't yet, head over to Eric's blog to see his take on my five topics for him. (Plus, I'd just start heading over there on a regular basis anyway because he's pretty funny.)

See you on the flipside!

Blog Challenge: Top 3

Again with this "under the wire" business... I'm sitting here incredibly red and crispy-feeling after spending a long afternoon on the beach and then rushing to a night shift at work. I've been to the beach countless times this summer and never burned, but I think my streak is officially broken. I mean, my KNEES feel crispy... Whoa.

Anyway! That's neither here nor there, because today I'm telling you all about the "Top 3 Most Played Songs on my iTunes". To be honest I was really scared it was going to be some awkward Sara McLachlan song I was obsessed with one summer like SIX years ago that for some reason maintained the top spot for an outrageously long time... But thankfully Ms. Lilith Fair herself has been dethroned. There are still a few creepers on my top 25 that I have NO idea how they got there (Blacklalicious's "Reanimation", anyone?), but let's get to the subject at hand: the top 3.

They are:

1. "You'll Come" by Hillsong United

2. "Desert Song" by Hillsong

3. "Where I Belong" by Cory Asbury

I'm actually really happy with those three because they really do represent the core of my musical tastes. As much as I love Frank Sinatra and Etta James and Jay-Z and all other kinds of little indie/ top 40/ sexy dance music, the only tunes that I really listen to all day, every day, are worship songs. The rest of my top 25 pretty much falls along with that-- it's all worship stuff except for a little Coldplay, Mat Kearney, and the aforementioned renegade Blackalicious (seriously?). I used to listen to a lot more mainstream music, but as I've gotten older, and truth be told, after my mom died, everything else just sounds sort of cheap to me.

As much as I love a good love song or booty-shaker, the only music I can really listen to for long periods of time is stuff that talks about the Lord. It's richer, deeper, and feeds my soul and spirit in a way that other music can't do. I remember the first time I listened to "You'll Come" in my apartment after hearing it live at a Hillsong concert the weekend before... I burst out crying. I was standing, shaving my legs in the bathroom sink, singing the harmony from my foggy memory, and all of a sudden I burst out laughing and gasping, tears making rivers down my cheeks. It's such an incredible cry of faith-- a declaration of hope and trust that the Lord will do what he says he will do. ...And that's so hard for me to remember sometimes.

"Desert Song" was the same... I heard it at the same concert, and when I listened to it a few days later I was so moved by its hopeful, steadfast declaration of trust in the darkness.

This is my prayer in the desert
When all that's within me feels dry
This is my prayer in the hunger and need
My God is the God who provides

And this is my prayer in the fire
In weakness or trial or pain
There is a faith proved of more worth than gold
So refine me Lord through the flames

I will rejoice, I will declare
God is my victory and He is here

This is my prayer in the battle
When triumph is still on it's way
I am a conqueror and co-heir with Christ
So firm on His promise I'll stand

All of my life, in every season
You are still God
I have a reason to sing
I have a reason to worship

I cried when I heard that one too.

The last, non-Hillsong one is by a guy from IHOP in Kansas City, and I had that on near-constant repeat a few months ago. Great vocals, incredible lyrics, love the build... Just awesome.

Geez I love the Lord.

Blog Challenge: My Car

Hoooooeeeeey! I'm getting this one in right under the wire aren't I? After starting a new job this week, I've been in training every day and it's left me pretty pooped! BUT! I am here at 11:21 to tell you all about my car. Dun dun daaaaa!

My current vehicle is a ten year old black BMW convertible named Black Beauty. At least that's what I have always called her until a friend asked me what her name was and then suggested I name her Barnabas... (It's a long story) My car's name is still officially Black Beauty, but now every time I think of her I think of Barnabas. But that's neither here nor there.

I don't really know what to tell you about my car-- this is sort of more of a "boy" topic. I know that whenever anything goes wrong or even sounds, smells, or looks like it *might* go wrong, I instantly feel panic and dismay in the deepest cockles of my soul. A few months ago my car was in the shop for two weeks and I don't think I've been that stressed since my mom was in the hospital. Seriously freaking out.

Since it's a convertible, my rear window has gotten cloudy after several years of sitting in the hot California sun. I basically can't see anything out of it. I don't really mind, but it makes my little Barna-- I mean Black Beauty look a little homely. But last week I was at a party and a friend of mine from church offered to clean my window for me! He went out to his car, got some special BMW convertible window cleaning magic stuff, and we stood under the stars as he polished my window until it glistened. Holla! That was nice...

Um, that's basically it... I love my car. I love that it has this big ol' powerful German engine that accelerates really well and can power up a hill like nobody's business. I love my little Persian rugs that I have instead of regular floor mats (have I mentioned "classy" is my middle name?). I love my giant sub woofer in the trunk that makes your sternum vibrate when I listen to Jay-Z.

And you know what? Screw it. I'm calling her Barnabas from now on.

Blog Challenge: Tres Leches

As warned, my blogging topics are going a little out of order. Today's topic? Tres leches! Ole!

Photo by LensENVY

As hard as this may be to believe, I have never made, or even tasted, tres leches. What is it you ask? Some dude who submitted his definition to Wikipedia describes it this way:

A Tres leches cake, or Pastel de Tres leches (Spanish, "Three milk cake"), is a sponge cake,—in some recipes, a butter cake—soaked in three kinds of milk: evaporated milk, condensed milk, and heavy cream. When butter is not used, the tres leches is a very light cake, with many air bubbles. This distinct texture is why it does not have a soggy consistency, despite being soaked in a mixture of three types of milk.

Additionally, from what I've seen, it's usually topped with whipped cream. I mean... HELLO. A lactose intolerant's nightmare, but COME to MOMMA!

Tres Leches Doughnut from The Doughnut Plant, NYC (Photo by moodlemoodle)

After a little investigative googling, I found an overwhelming amount of praise for the tres leches from a Mexican supermarket chain called Vallartas. I mean... I'm not sure how I feel about entrusting my virgin three-milk voyage to a supermarket, but the local praise is incredible.

Have you ever had tres leches? What did you think of it? Any tips on what I should look for in a quality tres leches experience?

Maybe I'll just drag Eric to Vallartas for a tres leches tasting mission. Wouldn't THAT make an interesting blog...

Blog Challenge: Junior Year

Hello America! This marks the first day of the epic blog challenge I share with my friend Eric. You can read all about it here, but let's get on with the topic at hand: my junior year of college!

May of 2005 was when I found out I had been accepted into UCLA's prestigious School of Theatre, Film, and Television. I was over the moon. I was ecstatic. I was BEYOND excited. After auditioning and interviewing in San Francisco several months earlier and learning that they take FOUR student transfers every year, my hopes of attending my top choice theater school were hanging by a thread. So, as I'm sure you can imagine, when I read the e-mail that May afternoon congratulating me on my acceptance to my dream school, to say that I was "thrilled" would be an understatement.

That fall I moved down to Los Angeles into the brand new dorm room that I would share with my friend Sarah. Now, here's a fun little factoid for you: UCLA auditions thousands of people all around the country every year for their undergrad Theatre program. Sarah and I were friends in the theater department at the community college we both went to, and we went to the auditions in San Francisco together. We auditioned one person apart: I was number 41 that day, and she was number 43. And we made up half of the transfer class that year. Crazy.

ANYWAY, back to fall of '05... Sarah and I moved into our room on the tippity-top floor of a newly-constructed, gorgeous dorm building on UCLA's campus. The building was 9 stories high, and I could see the ocean from my bed. It was amazing. Then we started our classes, and that's when I really fell in love. Because UCLA's theater program is so small (there were 40 people TOTAL in the junior class when I joined), the majority of classes regarding your major are planned for you. That means that every year, every student in your class takes the same voice and speech, movement, and acting class. So Sarah and I were thrown in with this incredible group of characters who had been at this amazing school for two years already, trying to make new friends amongst old, long-standing cliques, grudges, and best friends, all while trying to survive memorizing two scenes a week, African tribal dancing for movement class, vocal exercises and learning IPA for voice and speech.

Definitely a "learn to swim by drowning" situation.

But oh my gosh, how I loved every single minute of it. As the year continued on there were definite hardships-- mine and Sarah's friendship hit some very rocky ground, my mom was diagnosed with leukemia, homesickness (and just sickness in general) set in frequently... But the memories, experiences, and personal (and artistic) growth I sustained during my junior year in college make it one of the most incredible times of my life.

Julie and Julia

Are you ready for another big announcement? Because brace yourself-- this one's pretty big.

On Monday (as in two days from now), this here humble little blog will be the featured "Blog of the Day" on the website for the amazing, gorgeous, hilarious movie Julie and Julia.

*cue adolescent girl scream*

You can watch the trailer here:

I have been so excited to see this movie ever since I heard about it coming out, so needless to say I was pretty thrilled when I was contacted to be featured on their website this month!

On Monday if you go to their website, it'll be my name in the cute little box on the bottom right corner where it says "Featured Blog."

*cue adolescent girl scream*

Sorry. I couldn't help myself.

I mean, we all know I love to cook. And I'm already about to pee my pants thinking about Meryl Streep's face being next to my name. (It's a stretch I know, but just work with me here.) It's just so COOL!

Okay that's it. Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!!