Updates

Fall trees in LA!  Off Barrington, south of Santa Monica

Cliche...

Time - where has it gone?  Clearly it hasn't been spent on my blog! 

It's been over a year since I've moved back from my brief (but exciting) 6-month stint in NYC, and it feels much less. I haven't even been back for a visit due to career/job stuff, family issues, and weather. I still miss it, and often have dreams I'm back there again (a strange, dreamy NYC that is really not NYC).  

Though the professional fashion part of my life has been put on hold indefinitely, I'm pretty satisfied at where I am now. I've had many past jobs with horrible work environments, and never one that I was mostly satisfied with. It was always one of these, or all: lazy coworkers, people who blame you for things because they can't take responsibility, lazy, cowardly bosses, bitch bosses, unmotivated people, etc. So far (knock on wood), I have none of these people at my job now and it is glorious. Like I've said before, it isn't a seemingly-glamorous job filled with fashion weeks and clothing samples, but for now, it's probably the best I could have hoped for.  I mean, it pays! Crazy, right?

As for fashion... for now, this is being practiced in my personal life. Before this job, it had been over a year that I made real, consistent money (with the exception of the one month fashion week freelance) and I so missed the freedom to shop.  It seems like this has been a constant battle with myself, but I'm really trying to spend less on the cheaper, "fast" things, and focus more on the long term. For me, that means no trendy things like studded jackets, neons, pastels, bib collar necklaces (these should go away), polyester lovelies from H&M and F21, etc. Instead, it's more basic items like higher quality knits, silk blouses, anything without uber-trendy details. I'm also trying to wear everything in my closet. I have probably ten or more articles that I've never worn that I'm "saving" for unknown, nonexistent events. I'm making it a point to break these out and wear them. Life is short!

I really need to add more pictures on my blog, but all I have are phone shots!  

Until next time.

Issues

Somewhere in the midst of business lunches at Sur and constant planning meetings at work, my team (I have never worked in a place where I was on a "team") has gotten to know me as someone characterized by many "issues".  These "issues" aren't as serious as they seem.  They're more like pet peeves, quirks, and stories I've remembered growing up that have shaped me into the peculiar person they know me as today.  I'd like to share some of these here.

I've never been an athletic person.  I think it's partially genetic and partially because I always associated athleticism with masculinity, and I'd always been a girly-girl - the kind who put things like dollhouses and Easy Bake Ovens on her Christmas list.  In school, I hated P.E almost more than math (but still hated math most).   Growing up, I would find any excuse to skip running the miles on Monday (forged period-cramp notes from my mom), and looked forward to the end of required P.E. after the tenth grade.  I've been very open about this over the years, but when I was in elementary school and more insecure around kids who just loooved P.E., I pretended to be just as enthusiastic.  Just to be fair though, P.E. in elementary school was a lot different from P.E. in middle or high school.  It didn't require earning a letter grade while sweating in hideous clothes (shapeless heather grey tshirts and blue knee length shorts - probably the most unflattering colors and styles I've ever worn) that sat and stank up my locker for a week.  No, physical education in grades 1 through 5 were given as a "reward" for good behavior.  Secretly, I wished that everyone behaved horribly so we could always skip it since for me, P.E. was more of a punishment than any kind of reward.  But my rotten classmates would often behave well and bestow the ill P.E. fate upon me.  So we'd play games like Capture the Flag or Heads up Seven Up on rainy days - games that I had no problem with because I wasn't really required to do much.  But then there were the other games - the games that made me feel sick to my stomach in anticipation of them, mostly because of my inaptitude and the embarrassment that was to come from it.  I would even try to use this sick fear feeling as an excuse to get out of participating with my teachers.  Unfortunately, they saw through these tactics and almost always made me play ("oh just plaaaay, have fun!").  Although it was an excuse to prevent humiliation, the sick stomach feeling was very much real.

These fear-inducing games were ones that put each kid in the spotlight - dodgeball, Steal the Bacon (hate), and one in particular I remember too well - baseball.  It was the third grade.  With the exception of this experience, I'd say third grade was a good year.  I loved my teacher Miss Reilly - she was young and pretty and super nice - and it was the year I got my Samantha doll.  But I was 8-9 years old and raised by FOB parents who probably didn't even know what all-American things like I dunno - spaghetti - were until they moved here in the 70s.  So I knew what baseball looked like, but I had no idea how to play it.  I think Miss Reilly went over the rules and such really quickly, but I still didn't understand it.  I was fine when I just stood far out on the field while the other team hit the ball (batted?) and I would just kind of half-ass run towards wherever it went.  But then it was my turn to hit it and I had to actually perform.  I remember thinking to myself "so I swing the bat, then run?  When do I run?  Do I have to hit the ball?  What if I can't hit the ball and everybody is staring at me?  What if I can't run fast enough?"

I don't quite recall every detail of this particular incident because I'm positive most of it has been pushed into a Freudian area in my brain, but I do know that I either swung the bat and ran, or was already on one of those bases and would run whenever someone else attempted to hit the ball.  But...I wasn't supposed to run, because apparently you're only supposed to run when someone actually hits the ball.  But I did anyway, and all the kids and my teacher were yelling at me, "GO BACK! Go back!"  Go back?  When was I was supposed to run?!  Confused, I ran back to my base.  But then someone would swing, and I would run, and again I'd hear "GO BACK, GO BACK!"  I was so lost.  How do you play this dumb game?  And I remember my dear Miss Reilly yelling at me in her sunglasses and wedge sandals, gesturing with her hands for me to go back, go back.  But I just kept running at the wrong times, because I didn't get the stupid ass sport, and over and over again it was "GO BACK! GO BACK!"  I was maybe only eight years old, but I know my face was all red out of pure humiliation and my mind was filled with WTF.

To this day, I still loathe P.E., and more specifically, baseball.  Yeah, I haven't taken a P.E. class in about ten years, but it's experiences like these that remind me of my disdain towards forced athletic participation.  I'm not sure if I'm the only sad child who has a story like this, but I'm hoping more unathletic children will share their traumatizing stories.  These on-the-spot type games put too much pressure on timid little kids such as myself, whom would have much preferred to have stayed inside playing with Samantha dolls or reading The Baby-Sitters Club.   Baseball is so painfully boring anyway.

I know I probably come off as totally physically incompetent, so just as an FYI (whether you believe it or not) - I was the only girl who was able to compete against the boys in the 7th grade high jump, and I kick ass in HORSE.

But don't get me started on volleyball.

All Work and No Play

I was hoping that the next time I posted would be something more exciting with pictures, but I really don't know what I'd post pictures of since my life the past month has been mostly consumed by work.  And unlike my most recent work history in fashion and in glamorous offices (WhoWhatWear), this job is a lot less glitz.  I mean, unless you want a picture of Fresh n Easy's logo?

But I really don't mind it.  Somewhere in the craziness of my current job, I turned a year older.  It was pretty anti-climatic.  I remember birthdays as a kid were always such a big deal.  Even the actual day felt special.  I'd wake up and I could tell that THAT particular day felt different from all the others.  I'd usually have an outfit picked out the night before, cupcakes or rice krispie treats prepared for my class, and I'd measure my height on the wall before going to bed and in the mornings.  Now they just feel like any other day, and they come and go so quickly.  Maybe at a more significant age (thirty isn't far and very frightening) that *special* feeling will return.  Or maybe it'll just welcome me with gray hairs and crow's feet.  I hope for the former. 

This job is super detailed and a lot of work, but the environment is pretty positive and so far I'm enjoying it.  My heart is still in fashion and will always be, but it's just not the right time for it - at least not professionally.  I still pursue it on a personal level, however, and have taken great pleasure in being able to financially support it again, even if just a little.

I'm going camping with the family this weekend.  I know, what the eff?  We're not campers.  I'm definitely not a camper.  I prefer civilization, hotels, and heels to I dunno, tents, bears, and those hideous velcro-strap hiking sandals.  I haven't started yet, but I have a feeling the packing part will be the most difficult for me.  Sister Moddy told me to not pack anything "cute".  So I pack all my ugly stuff?  Like t-shirts I've gotten for free from old jobs and "workout" shoes?  I think she even asked if I have a windbreaker.  Uh, no, actually I do not.  When will I have ever needed a windbreaker in my non-camping life?   And we're going on several hikes.  I haven't "worked out" since I've returned from New York.  Wish me luck.

I should sleep.  It's almost 2am on a Tuesday night.  I napped from about 7p to 11:30p tonight and work tomorrow again at 9.  Which means I'm completely re-integrated into my full-time work routine.

Vogue

I just had to pass up an opportunity to intern (unpaid, but of course) at Vogue. It sucked (the passing up part, not the opportunity).   

Picture is of Vogue Germany because I like this cover, but the internship would have been for American Vogue at the LA office.

Someday maybe I will figure out how exactly to combine passion + money.  I often wish I were super interested in accounting (impossible).

Work

So I got a job (finally!), and it may not be THE job, but it's decent enough and the location in the Pacific Designer Center is great. Christian Louboutin is walking distance (dangerous) and there are tons of places to eat in the area (Tender Greens, Urth Caffe).  Plus I get 18 days off a year, 4 additional summer days, one floating holiday, and that whole week of Christmas/New Years.  Yay!

I've been busy busy at it though, trying to learn everything since it's a bit different from what I was doing at my last media jobs. At my desk now gobbling down a Trader Joe's caprese salad for lunch. Thought I'd just give a quick update...

Oh Romeo

While looking for that last video I posted, I found this montage of Romeo + Juliet scenes with Radiohead's Talk Show Host playing over it.  This movie was my sixth grade obsession.  I watched it as often as I could, went on Geocities (!) fan sites for it, and even remember YM magazine having these collectible Romeo + Juliet postcards and me trying to collect every single one of them.  I memorized all the lyrics to The Cardigans' "Lovefool", and I tried to model my narrator outfit for our Greek play after one of Claire Danes' Miu Miu Juliet gowns.  And then I went obsessive-stalker on Leonardo DiCaprio, and found out everything from how he got his name to his unattractive model girlfriend at the time.  I recall being disappointed upon discovery that he was a Scorpio because I'm a Gemini, and Scorpios + Geminis are supposed to have ill-compatibility*.  And I was even more saddened by the fact that he was 23 or something at the time, and I was only 12, as if the only thing preventing us from being together was our age difference.

And then time passed and Titanic happened, I grew up, he got all fat and my love affair with him ended.  I was a superficial teenager and had moved on to other boy wonders like Freddie Prinze Jr.  Sorry Leo.  However, amongst all the other Bop-tastic boys - from Devon Sawa (I'm embarrassed to even type that name) to Trent from Daria (yes, a cartoon), you will always hold a particularly special place in my heart.


*boyfriend now is a Scorpio, woops!  I defy you stars!
*Leo's ex-girlfriend, Bar Rafaeli, has the same exact birthday as me.  Same day, year.  I guess if I became a supermodel my 12-year-old dream could come true!

Your Crazy Kitten Smile

I'll drown my beliefs
To have you be in peace
I'll dress like your niece
And wash your swollen feet

Just don't leave
Don't leave

And true love waits
In haunted attics
And true love lives
On lollipops and crisps

Just don't leave
Don't leave

I'm not living, I'm just killing time
Your tiny hands, your crazy-kitten smile

Just don't leave
Don't leave

True Love Waits - Radiohead

I always forget about this song because it's much lesser known, but every time I rediscover it I fall in love with it all over again.  Everything about it is romantically perfect (except maybe the niece line).

Buy me, buy me!

This is what the Maje and Sandro collections said to me as I approached their area at Bloomingdales today.  I would have gladly done so since I loved absolutely everything and had no idea they were carried at Bloomingdales, but I need a real jobby job first.  Only then will I be able to indulge in some Maje skinny leather pants, blush moto jacket, and fifty million other spring items that I needed so badly I had to leave to prevent any sort of impulse buying.

On a side note, the Maje shopping site leaves much to be desired.  I know it is new, but more than half of the obsessive-worthy things I saw in store are not even on the website.

Up next: job.

Food Phase #10

Note: I gave this title food phase #10, but I really don't know what number it is. I've had many.

I'm not sure if this is a normal thing for people, but I go through food phases. Usually these are junk food phases focused on one particular treat, not phases like eating mostly Italian or Mexican food. These phases are characterized by cravings for one particular food item for a number of weeks until I get too sick of them and/or too fat. And during these cravings, nothing else really satisfies and quenches my hunger except that specific item. Past food phases of mine include Hostess Ho-Hos, Hostess Powdered Donettes, Sour Patch Watermelon (while living in New York and encountering them at every newsstand and subway station), Magnolia Bakery banana pudding, Lays Limited Edition California Dill Pickle chips (these sound disgusting but were so delicious, please bring them back), Cadbury Crunchies, and many others I cannot remember at this late Sunday hour.

So my current craving is one that touches my Asianity. Weeks ago sometime in March while my momma was at the physical therapy place in Pomona, I had to pick up some Thai food for her at a nearby Thai restaurant. When I went to pay for the $6 order of wonton soup, I realized that there was a $10 minimum charge requirement. Since I only had a card, the nice lady at the counter said she could charge me for a Thai iced tea w/boba to make it $10. I agreed, and off I went. Once in my car, I took a sip of that Thai drank and was surprised at how much I enjoyed it. I'd had boba before so it shouldn't have been as surprising of an experience as it was. But for some reason I found it so very delightful.

And so it has become the craving of now. I often go to Volcano Tea here on Sawtelle, and wait in the long lines for an Almond Milk Tea w/ boba. It is delicious. If I'm at my parents' house, I go to a place called Juice Bar for my fix. I stopped at the Sawtelle location tonight on my way back from Temecula. I was wearing a "Pugs not Drugs" shirt, no bra, socks with ballet flats, and my bangs were going all sorts of ridiculous ways. My appearance was completely unacceptable, but I really wanted one and hadn't planned to stop anywhere on my way back to my apartment. The nice thing about Volcano Tea is that they're open super late (1a-2a) so I can go at all sorts of crazy hours.

I am glad this food phase is not as fattening as past phases. What's next? Perhaps something more savory? Some kind of new candy? A new Haagen Dazs flavor?

I will return with food phase #11 when it is known.


Currently listening: Pinback - Penelope
It's a lovely song, but I do think it's a lovely song about a... fish.

Drive Fast

I had this on my tumblr because it really is more of a tumblr-type thing than a bloggy-type thing, but I loved it too much that I couldn't not post it here too.

P.S. I know I keep changing the design/name of this blog. I can't help it! I'm a Gemini and we are indecisive and fickle. I thought white would be a good update. It's refreshing.

California Dreams

Kate Moss (but of course)

Do you remember that show? The one on late Saturday mornings in the mid-90s? It came on after like Saved by the Bell: The New Class? I kind of miss it.

Back to topic. After spending last summer in a sweltering concrete jungle with just one brief escape to the Hamptons, I'm super excited for this California summer. I don't think I've been to a real beach in over a year, and my pasty thighs are begging for some UV damage!

I've already got plans to get a not-so-expensive bathing suit from VS, and some fun bronzing lotion stuff. I visited my friend Dagmar from high school this Easter weekend and noticed how tan she was. She recommended I use this Victoria's Secret BeachSexy shimmery bronzing lotion, so I'm anxious to get it and rub it all over my jiggly white thighs.

And once I get a job (hopefully ASAP!) and things become a bit more predictable and stable in my life, I'm planning on a return trip to NYC. I really need to visit my fave consignment shops on the UES and East Village, Comptoir des Cotonniers, and grub down on some Shake Shack. But most of my summer will be here in California. Boyfriend and I have plans to go to Newport Beach for a day or weekend since he got this spa coupon thing that includes a facial, a massage, and maybe some other relaxing treats. I've really missed my California summers. I act like I've missed several when it's just been one. But that's enough to do it!

Whenever I have some free time I need to fix my header, find out how to stretch my pictures to the width of the posts, and overall dedicate more time to this blog. I need to take more pictures, period. Posts aren't as interesting when they're just words, are they?

Until we meet again - (wish for sun and employment)

Late Afternoon Post

I know I come off as kind of confused, lost about my career. In many ways, I am these things. I'm constantly debating the pros and cons of the two, and trying to figure out what I REALLY want in not only my career life, but my life LIFE as well, since the career part greatly affects my overall being. But in another way - a fantasy dreamworld way, where money is not an issue - I know exactly what I want to do/be.

But this is reality, and I live in it. And as nice as dreams are to have, they aren't always the most doable. Sure, I can suffer and face homelessness and complete bankruptcy, but would it pay off in the end? All the servers/actors do it, but do they ALL make it? No.

And then when/if you don't, what do you do?

Two weeks later

Mom is out of the ICU though still in the hospital, Piggie is back in town and fatter (and happier) than ever, and I can soon get back to some sort of normalcy (I hope).

Still stressed in other ways, but overall, things are looking up.

Photo taken last week while still in the ICU.

Exhaustion

Sitting in the dark and empty ICU waiting room at 2AM has left me feeling exhausted. It's not just physical. I'm exhausted in ways I didn't know were possible. It's all for a reason a million times worth it, but sitting here with my eyes half open is making me delusional. Is that a Monet on the wall and is it in 3d?

There isn't that much going on in my mind right now except my own personal troubles. Aside from the obvious, I'm worried about my professional life. I've never been so lost about it before. I have my pros and cons lists but my inner Gemini just can't decide. Fashion? Advertising? Something completely new? How? Is it worth it? What do I really want in life? Could I be happy with fashion as a hobby instead of a career? What is the most important factor I look for in a job? Why do I have so many questions and so few answers?

Attached please find a picture of my bleak 2am existence.

I'm sure I'll read this later under normal circumstances and hastily delete out of embarrassment. This no sleeping in the hospital thing may have turned me into an incoherent philosophical idiot.

Faith

And then it happens.

All the other aspects that plague my life on a daily basis suddenly become trivial. Perspective, I guess.

And I feel helpless. Overwhelmed by emotions never felt at such levels of extremity, I need something to believe in. We all do. Whatever it is, whoever it is, it's not only comforting during crises like these, but (at least for me) necessary.

I've never been very religious. I'm still not sure what I believe in - angels, spirits, some God? Whoever you are - please fix her. Make me believe, I need something to believe in.

'Cuz you're a New York City boy (girl)...

Often, very often, I have dreams of being back in New York. The dreamed New York isn't actually like the real New York at all, but in its own crazy place in my sleeping mind, it is.

I miss it. I sometimes wonder if I will ever end up there again.

Moisturizing Happiness

This is coming from a girl who, on a daily basis wears eyeliner and SPF and considers her face complete, and a girl who HATES orange and brown smears on necklines when trying on clothes - but I'm totally loving tinted moisturizers. Sure, it's only my first day wearing it and I really haven't checked a mirror since leaving the house, but my skin feels moisturized and not at all like I'm wearing face makeup. I really hate foundations and concealers and powders and such. I can actually tolerate a powder foundation - I own the Chanel one but haven't made much of a dent in it since I bought it in 2009 - but straight up foundations feel like really serious makeup. Like, where you need actual tools to apply it. I like to keep it real with my makeup and beauty routines. No fuss. I don't keep up with all the newest beauty fads and basically just follow the same simple routine everyday with tried and true drugstore products. But I had been reading a lot recently about how not only does foundation create a nice, even appearance, but it protects your face from "the elements". I don't really know what that means, to tell you the truth, but I do care for my skin, even if I don't spend much time or money on it. So I looked into foundation options and tinted moisturizer seemed best for me since it's still mostly a moisturizer with some color thrown in to even out skin tone. Sounds good, yeah?

After some online research, off to Sephora I went. I'm usually completely lost when I go into Sephora, drugstores, or any makeup counter. I don't know what I need, what colors look good on me (am I a warm or a cool? I will never know), and which products are best. But this time I had read about Maria Duenas Jacobs' easy and natural makeup routine on Into The Gloss, and was after the Dior Hydralife Tinted Moisturizer. It was $40 and only come in three numbered shades, but had SPF which is a huge plus for an anti-light vampire like myself. I went for the 2 and applied it to half of my face with one of those sponges at those mini mirror stations. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I was surprised at how much I liked it. It was so easy to apply, blended right in, and looked natural. What more could I ask for?

However, while in line to pay, I noticed the Laura Mercier travel size for only $20. The smaller sizer came in only two colors - nude and sand. Since it was half the price and I wasn't a complete convert to this whole new tinted moisturizer thing, I figured it would be better to get a smaller size first. So I went and tried on the LM in sand and honestly, both the Dior and the Laura felt nearly identical, with maybe a little more coverage on the Laura. The colors were pretty similar, and they both felt nice and light on my skin. Not make-uppy at all!

In the end, I went for the Laura Mercier because it was cheaper and I thought Laura Mercier had a better reputation for her skincare than Dior, and I was right. The Laura Mercier Tinted Moisturizer has won several beauty awards and has tons of glowing reviews on MakeupAlley, Sephora, and other sites. The criticizers say it's oily or too yellow (am I yellow?), but I loved it in store and it's held up wonderfully on my dry skin so far. It doesn't cover my freckles or look too flawless, so it's perfect. I find the biggest benefits to be the SPF20 and the fact that it evens out the uneven skin tone I've acquired from wearing sunglasses. Could it be? Me, someone who is always paranoid that skin makeup will smudge onto my clothes and sunglasses, someone who likes to touch her face more often than a normal person should, enjoying a form of makeup that I must smear all over my face like softened, room-temperature butter? Yes, yes it could be. And is!

Holiday Treats

After two blissful weeks of doing absolutely nothing, my holiday break came to an official end today. Waking up before 1p was actually not the impossible task I imagined it to be. Maybe it's because when I fall asleep knowing I have to wake up early the next day, I don't allow myself to fall into a deep slumber. Whatever the reason, rising before 1p from a bedtime of 3 to 4am proved to be a success.

The break began on the 15th with the WhoWhatWear holiday party at The Churchill. I had received a possible employment opportunity and had just discovered Revlon's Lip Butters in Pink Truffle and was in swell spirits. As was the tradition with holiday parties I had been to in the past, I was expecting food, but instead was surprised and a bit dismayed at the lack of even hors d'oeuvres. The disappointment of delicious sustenance quickly faded as one of the assistants encouraged us to fill up on the open bar. I was wearing what has become my easiest and least creative uniform - severe monochromatic black (superstitious Asian mother would strongly oppose) - and the combination of 5"+ platforms and just a wee bit of champagne nearly caused me a broken face as I left the party. All was good in the end though, a couple other interns and I worked the guest list at a table and had some good conversation.

I had to drop off boyfriend at the airport to fly home for Christmas a few days later, so I was alone in my then-empty apartment the entirety of my first week off. I really didn't mind. There's something comforting and unusually satisfying about being around my things. I never said I wasn't materialistic. I don't see why it has to be a bad thing. Being near my things just gives me pleasure. There's really no good reason why.

Then came the nights of doing nothing until 4am. I love unproductive late nights. I always thought that if the world conducted business at night, I would be function a million times better. I can't even tell you what I did these nights because I honestly don't remember.

And before I knew it, it was Christmas and I was home. I was given gifts although I wasn't able to reciprocate. Someday, when I actually start making money doing something I actually enjoy! The only person I exchanged gifts was with boyfriend, whom received a masculine dark gray Clarisonic Mia to achieve that flawless, pore-free appearing skin he so desires. This plus some Kiehl's Mens Facial Fuel moisturizer. The man does not use lotion. How come they never have to? Ugh.

Anyway, then came my gift. I had a hunch for weeks before finding out what it was he got me. This was mostly based on comments and questions that led to... the Chloe Paraty bag! I'm staring at it on my bed as I write this, though I will probably return this one and get one at the actual Chloe store. He and I went together to Nordstrom to get the last one on their display. I didn't think of it then, but this display bag didn't come with the care booklet or authentication cards. Both aren't very important, but if he's going to spend that much, I'd like to get everything that comes with it just in case. But isn't it pretty? The black isn't the most luscious color, but it's so versatile (love the shoulder strap) and goes with most of my wardrobe perfectly. The one thing I was lacking in my wardrobe was a good, all around bag. I was debating between this and the Celine luggage shopper in the mini size but decided this was better because it has a zipper, shoulder strap, and overall looks best for my current style. I would of course love a Chanel jumbo or simply the 2.55, but it's still far too much. The Celine is still fantastic, however maybe just a tad bit mature for my look right now.

Boyfriend said the bag was a Christmas gift but also a reward for me "taking risks" with my career the past year (and now). Now whenever I'm feeling hopeless, I look at the bag and what it symbolizes, and am instantly re-energized.

And here's to 2012. Hope it's as good as the beginning of it has been.