What I Think I Understand (to a Certain Extent)

Many things I've read or stumbled upon lately have enlightened me in the same way as Stephen Fry in this interview. Perhaps I notice these life lessons a lot more in different places because I am more aware of them in my own life.

STEPHEN FRY: WHAT I WISH I'D KNOWN WHEN I WAS 18 from Peter Samuelson on Vimeo.

A Distant Memory

I am back from my trip to Maine. It's still a shock to have spent some time in a city that's very walkable and an island that's surrounded by nature, only to come back to a traffic-laden, busy city like LA. I drove for the first time in two weeks in a car that wasn't mine. The car had all the current technological features, where everything could be controlled by the push of a button. Driving was nerve-wracking and I was not used to the drivers on the streets, especially on the freeway. I haven't felt that nervous in a while. It still feels weird to be back. I can't quite snap back into reality just yet.

Lane's Island

Lane's Island near Vinalhaven is one of the special places in my heart. It meant a lot to experience a place like Lane's Island with Stef--a place that was once loved by his mom.

We stole a wish flower from the island. Following his secret wish, we proceeded to hike past the family building sandcastles in the limited amount of sand before the rocky shoreline. Our destination was the large rock at the edge of the island to see what was causing the waves to crash in the middle of the sea.

We made it to a point where we concluded the object in the sea was just a large buoy but could not proceed any further than that. It had rained the night before, leaving the trails too muddy to hike without proper attire. The weather still looked a bit ominous, and rain could have started coming down at any moment. Upon turning around, I noticed that massive amounts of black kelp dried up on the shore. I discovered that stepping on the mass makes a crunchy sound. I couldn't help but stomp on it some more.

There was nowhere else to go. Right before exiting, we backtracked and wrote our names on the sand. Stef drew a couple of hearts around our names and added a string, as if it was a heart balloon. When the waves are high enough, part of each our souls will fade into the island, only to become a distant memory to us immortalized by the picture above.

The Toughcats Live

It is Friday. Stef and I will be in Maine for another week. After he records some material for the next two days, we're off to visit his sister, who I have yet to meet. Following that visit, we will take a ferry to Vinalhaven, an island that is tremendously beautiful according to everyone I have recently met here in Maine.

Joe's place is a gem. It's a treat to have him as our host.

Last night, The Toughcats performed at One Longfellow Square.

We sat up in the mezzanine to capture the aural pleasures of the first set.

...and The Toughcats ROCKED IT!

Quick Update from Maine

The video above is a stop motion piece created by Joe from The Toughcats with the iMotion app on the iPhone. Helping him on the piece (I made the clouds!) got me interested in making more stop motion pieces in the near future.

Currently, Stef and I are staying with Joe in Portland, Maine and are excited to be in town for his album release show tomorrow night. I like this little port town. It's great to be able to smell the ocean air and hear the seagulls while walking around. Yesterday, while on a stroll around town, we visited a gallery called SPACE and it's the type of venue I only would dream of owning.

I'll make sure to take some pictures at the show tomorrow night to post later on.

If You Can Peel Me Away From the Ball Game...

On the itinerary tonight is a trip to Echo Park to see howardAmb perform at Echo Curio. As I sit here watching the Dodgers vs. Padres game, currently tied at 1-1, no balls, 1 strike, 1 out in the top of the 5th, (OH MAN, THROWING ERROR TO FIRST ALLOWS THE DODGER ON FIRST TO ADVANCE!) I am enjoying the loud cheers from Dodger fans in the stands, despite it being an away game for us. It's going to be difficult to peel myself away from this game. Maybe it'll end before it's time to leave for the show tonight. Wishful thinking.

Also on my mind is what to pack for two weeks in Maine. I managed to get all the clothes I want to bring into my little timbuk2 tote bag I received as a gift at the Dwell design conference in Palm Springs several years ago. I love that bag. It has traveled with me many places and has never let me down. Now I can allow myself to think about the extra things I would want to bring.

On my list:
- White Noise, so I can finish it.
- DSLR for pictures, of course.
- Mini notebook + pen

The question is, should I bring my laptop? With limited connectivity at my destination, it seems not worth it, but I have an unwarranted attachment to the wretched black and silver piece of hardware. It may be tucked away the whole time of my trip, but I'll find comfort knowing that it is there.

Speaking of comfort, I am liking the fact that it is currently Dodgers 3, Padres 1, at the top of the 6th. Vin Skully announcing it, is the icing of the cake.

Goodbye LA, for now. I'll miss ya.

The People I Meet #3 - The Downstairs Neighbor

The guy downstairs is worthy of a "People I Meet" post. I rarely see him leave his apartment. When he's outside, he is seen in tattered clothing, covered in tears and stains that look like his clothes haven't been washed in years. He restores clarinets for a living and sells them on eBay. If he doesn't sell enough to make his quota, he doesn't make rent.

His van that is parked in the same spot on the street every day. If someone steals his spot, I entertain myself by assuming that he closely watches outside his window until the car moves so he can reclaim it. True story: I once parked in his spot and left for no more than 10 minutes. When I got back, his van was parked in "his" spot.

It's unfortunate for me that he has odd sleeping hours. Around my normal bedtime, ranging from 11pm to 1am, he spends his time watching television very loudly and playing guitar and bass, also very loudly. He once spent weeks continuously playing the same riff on the guitar. The riff was from a country song he was trying to perfect, but his awful robotic strumming made it sound more like Adam Sandler's "Hanukkah Song." Sadly, he moved on to the bass and I came to the realization that he's not trying to perfect the riffs he repeats... I think he gets satisfaction from being able to play the riff so he plays it over, and over, and over... Now he is continuously playing the main riff from War's hit "Low Rider." It sounds like a broken record that contains a sole riff played very badly. Please save me.

The People I Meet #2 - Party Girl at Grace Jones Concert

This is exciting. I never thought I would be writing this post. On my way to Downtown LA Artwalk (pictures) last night, I received a text from an unknown number. The area code originated from San Francisco, so I thought it might someone I know from gaming.

"Is this the girl I was sitting next to and watching Grace Jones? It's party season, when are you coming to SF?"

WHOA! That was almost a year ago! On July 26th, 2009, Grace Jones performed at the Hollywood Bowl and Stef and I sat next to a group of people who were involved in things like Do LaB and Burning Man. I was drunk, as the tradition at the Hollywood Bowl, and got to know Kelly. From what I remember, she's a full blown free-spirited person, who is up for any kind of party. I got the sense that she judges no one, is very open-minded, and aims to always have a good time.

I would love to visit her when I make my way to San Francisco. Maybe it'll allow me to expand on this post.

Rant on Writing

/rant

Working in PR, I read many articles. Many of which aren't worth my time, but I read them anyway. On top of video games, I keep up with current events, music, trends, arts, cars, and culture. I know I'm not the most fanciful writer, using elaborate vocabulary to present my thoughts and ideas, but that also isn't my job, or what I'm aiming to do.

There's nothing more off-putting to read an article from an "author" that can't write. If you want to be a journalist, reporter, or a writer, LEARN SIMPLE GRAMMAR BECAUSE IT WILL MAKE YOU LOOK LESS DUMB. And yes, I'm one of many who judge those who can't spell simple words or use proper prepositions correctly.

/end rant

The People I Meet #1 - LA Native From Echo Park

2:36pm, Friday, May 7th. I arrived in Gardena via a long Metro ride, taking the rail from North Hollywood to downtown and then catching the Silver Line there to the Artesia Transit Center. Nineteen minutes and a mile later, I found myself at my parents’ house. Walking through the ghetto was nerve-wracking being a “pretty girl” on the streets. Everyone who was walking was a minority with carts full of recyclables, or looked homeless.

My friends invited me to the Natural History Museum for their First Fridays series. Riding on public transportation is very rare for them, but for some reason they wanted to take the Metro to the museum that night. Great.

4:15pm. I was hungry. Really, really hungry. A friend came to meet me at my parents’ house and we walked to 7-Eleven to grab some cash for my museum admission. I perused through the aisles, hungry, and came out with an Almond Snickers along with my cash. Bad choice, but convenience stores usually don’t have the greatest selection of (good/healthy) food.

We got to the Natural History Museum too late for the tour. We bought tickets for the regular entrance and to listen to the discussion at 6:30pm: “Toxic Algal Blooms Along the Southern Californian Coast: Causes, Challenges and Solutions” with Dr. David A. Caron.

First Fridays changed a lot since I attended three years ago. A regular museum admission ($6.50 students/$9 adults) included live entertainment along with the extended hours of the museum. Now, people have to pay $15 to get into the room to watch the bands play and they stream the performance on large projectors in the main hall for those that only paid to roam the museum during its extended hours.

These pictures will tell the story of my visit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/aileenrobot/sets/72157624018618686/

8:30pm. I said my goodbyes to my friends and decided to take the Metro home from there. Due to the Revlon Run/Walk event blocking Figueroa St., buses going northbound at night were rerouted AND I DID NOT KNOW. I waited at the stop for an hour. Waited longer, even when this creepy bum looked at me, saying indistinguishable ramble. Waited longer around the ghetto streets of USC and examined the juxtaposition between the neighborhood folk and the erudite students of higher education.

9:30pm. A California Science Center employee finished her shift and came to the stop I was waiting at to also catch the bus home. She knew instantly, since I’ve been waiting there for a long time, that the buses were picking up people from different stops. The creepy bum finally left when Reyna started talking to me, reinforcing the idea that a pretty girl shouldn’t be alone in the streets.

We talked the whole time about growing up in LA. She told me about Echo Park, pre-hipster days, and how she lived through the drive-bys and cholos hanging out in the streets. It was very gang-infested before its inevitable gentrification. “I lived there for 20 years and had to move out two years ago when the white people with tight jeans started moving in. The rent became too expensive to afford.”

She and I walked a couple of blocks down to wait for either the 81 or the 200 buses. The 81 routes to downtown, while the 200 cuts through MacArthur Park to Echo Park. We opted to take the first bus that arrived, which was the 200 that was rerouted because of the special event. Luckily, there is a rail at MacArthur Park that took us to our respective destinations. The unexpected route was much different than what I had planned: Silver Line northbound to the 7th St./Metro Center stop to the North Hollywood Station via Red Line.

We parted when my train stopped at the platform. She gave me her card and told me to keep in touch. Without her, I wouldn’t have gotten home that night. I am so appreciative to interact with her. I learned a lot about the city I grew up in as well.

10:50pm. The last stretch was to walk from the station to my apartment. It felt so good to be home.

The Perfect Font

Nothing inspires me like using the perfect font to write with while drafting an entry. I will open up Microsoft Word, find the font that suits my mood--or the font I want my mood to reflect--and draft an entry.

I'm going to start writing a mini-series called, "The People I Meet." Recently, I've been out meeting people around through odd circumstances. There is something special about these people I'm meeting. Life has a strange way of bringing people into your life and there is nothing that interests me more than the way people live.

Hello!

Newly unemployed, I've been keeping busy this week with brainstorms, meetings and interviews with potential plans in the video game industry. I may get hired by a publisher, or find myself starting a PR agency with a friend. Whatever the case, I am already restless. It has only been my fourth day of unemployment and I'm itching for... something!

My focus is media in all forms. I'm pretty damned good following trends and keeping up with culture/pop culture. Hell, it was part of one of my internships to do so.

My philosophy on media parallels what DeLillo writes in White Noise. I'll leave you with this excerpt for now:

"The plane had lost power in all three engines, dropped from thirty-four thousand feet to twelve thousand feet. Something ilke four miles. When the steep glide began, people rose, fell, collided, swam in their seats. Then the serious screaming and moaning began. Almost immediately a voice from the flight deck was heard on the intercom: 'We're falling out of the sky! We're going down! We're a silver gleaming death machine!" This outburst struck the passengers as an all but total breakdown of authority, competence and command presence and it brought on a round of fresh and desperate wailing. ...

I'd been pushed away from the narrator by people crowding in to listen, well over a hundred of them, dragging their shoulder bags and garment bags across the dusty floor. Just as I realized I was almost out of hearing range, I saw Bee standing next to me, her small face smooth and white in a mass of kinky hair. She jumped up into my embrace, smelling of jet exhaust.

'Where's the media?' she said.
'There is no media in Iron City.'
'They went through all that for nothing?'"