LA Post The Second Delayed

Too lazy for words. Pictures. Here. Go.

Select photos of fun times at the conference:


Me getting a little too close to The City of Orange (I think it liked me). Who else would take the time to appreciate the many, many, many neato antique shops it had? Whoa - old doorknobs and books and windows and omigosh, is that a rusty lunchbox? Ooh. I think I'm a 75 year old trapped in a 21 year old's body.


The 4th of July - yay for celebrating American independence by going to the beach! En route: Me and cute friends with my cute hat! Aren't we cute?


Beachy fun. Some poor kid(s) are now without their bucket and shovels. We found them with no one around to claim them, we swear!

End Orange County scene. Fade into Los Angeles County. Day One.

After the conference, Claudia, Susana and I took a bus, a train, a bus and another bus and two point five hours later, we were in Venice Beach. The hostel was craptacular (I don't recommend this place unless you prefer to be misled about prices, prefer to have your beds taken AFTER you spend time making them up nicely with fluffy pillows only to get not so fluffy pillows the second time around, or if you prefer to be treated like shite when all you want to do is speak nicely to the manager about his no refund poilcy - The Venice Beach Hostel = suckage). The good thing was that this view was not even one minute away from our hostel:


Don't let the pretty palm trees in the night fool you though.


Welcome to Venice Beach! Get your pepper spray for only $5 and you're all set to see the sights! ...and the lunatics. And believe me, there were some. We three girls tried extra hard to walk manlier, to look tough, to look unattractive. We gripped our keys in our pockets in case we needed to suddenly gouge something, we held cigarettes to look tough and in case we suddenly needed to burn something, we didn't gawk at anything lest we label ourselves TOURIST aka VULNERABLE. We managed to get by without the pepper spray, but it was nice to know that it was there.


Three Girls and The World. The World Cafe and Lounge that is! Damn, this place was HOT. Like, cool-HOT. HAWT if you will. I tried my first ever mojito here - a massive mixture of fresh mint, lime, alcohol and who knows what else. It's Cuban, it's good, and a giant glass only cost me $5 - that's all I know. I like how everyone and everything around me looks drunk in this photo.


Throw a Ben and a Justin into the mix and you've got a recipe for a pretty good night. We met them because we took their seats - sorry boys. They were really nice and even invited us to a beach party the next day, but Susana and I had our own plans [read: we were too cool for them], so we politely declined. Ben is so awesome that he even e-mailed me afterwards. How's that for a little Southern hospitality? (He's from Texas.)

Day Two. Phew - almost done. Looks like I wasn't too lazy for words after all, eh?

Caludia goes home. Susana and I have brekkie on the beach. We buy home-made-home-bottled pomegranate juice for $2 which we later re-name Crap Juice or Ass In A Bottle. The beach is less scary during the day and is The Place To Be. We feel really cool. We rent bikes (they call them 'Beach Cruisers' over there) and ride all the way from Venice to the Santa Monica Pier. We decide to be kids for a bit and ride the rollercoaster, screaming like little girls the entire way. Here's a view of the beach while going up the scary rollercoaster hill:


And a view of the pier from the top before we plunge down down down (it really wasn't bad at all).

After such an exhausting morning, we needed some time to relax, so into the Pacific we went. We played with the ocean, danced and sang with it. We let the waves lift us and carry us and swish us around. I hugged it and it hugged back. I love you, Ocean. I love you too.

And then we sunbathed, as most girls would.

This is me and The Pink Wonder! I loved this bike. I miss you so.


I don't have any photographic evidence of what happend next, so you'll just have to take my word for it. We (reluctantly) rode away from the beach and went back to the hostel to pack up. We headed to Hollywood that night and managed to get there on public transit and The Big Guy's good humour. We were pumped for an Esthero concert, but LA can be deceiving. Not only were tickets more expensive than what we heard, the concert was also over by the time we got there. 10:30pm. In LA of all places! Weird.

So we were stuck with nothing to do when a guy bums a smoke off Susana and they get to talking. We end up in his Jeep and him and his buddy are driving us down Sunset Blvd to The Viper Room (apparently it's owned by Johnny Depp and River Phoenix died there). We get there, manage to sweet talk the bouncer into letting us in for cheap ("We're poor little Canadian girls....pleeeease?") and most promptly get ditched by these boys. How do we get back to our place? We have no idea. I'm not thinking about it much because I've met these two guys (James and Carlos) who teach me that an Adios Motherfucker is a bright blue drink that costs $12. They buy me a smaller one for about $6. This, was very sweet of them and very dumb of me. I wasn't there at the bar when it was poured, wasn't with him as he walked back towards me - I just took it and drank it. Stupid girl. Lucky stupid girl. I'm the poster child for What Not To Do, boys and girls.

I'm introduced to Spanish hard rock that night. Imagine Korn meets System of a Down meets Disturbed. But all in Spanish. Roca Firme is their name (get it - hard rock? tee hee) and they were actually really good. It turned out that J and C were friends with the band and they had one of their own, Scripture. Anyhoo, we hit it off and we all agree that we're hungry so off we go, into their car and they drive us to goodness knows where for some (really really good) Mexican food, El Taurino style, at some wee hour of the morning.

When they drop us off at the end of the night/morning, Susana and I say to each other: Wow, five hours later and we're back where we started. We've managed to miss a concert, meet random guys and GET INTO THEIR CAR, drive down Sunset, get into The Viper Room, hear Spanish hard rock, meet more random guys and GET INTO THEIR CAR, eat really good Mexican food, and now we're back. Alive and well and un-raped and safe and sound and unharmed and unscathed and I don't know about you, but I feel a helluva lot better than just 'well'! I slept about two or three hours that night and managed to take the subway to the airport the next morning. Am I a public transit junkie or what?


I (heart) T.O., but I sure do miss L.A.
7:59 pm

Sunday, July 17, 2005

Note To Self

If you are ever feeling uber-mopey again, whether it is due to the dreary weather, realizing that the proposition from a friend to be 'friends with benefits' is not up your alley, or remembering that the ex-boy refers to you as 'the girl who got jealous' and hearing that he is now saying stuff like he's 'never been happier', here's what you do:

- do not eat the chocolate bar that you bought from a cute kid at your door for $3 to raise money for something you don't remember because even though the wrapper says 'milk chocolate with roasted almonds', you know that it really is just 'chocolate that is so sweet that it burns your teeth with just TWO roasted almonds'

- walk over to a friend's house with air conditioning and just...be there

- remember that you are meeting lots of great new boys and you really shouldn't scare them off (moreso than you already have with this blog)

- listen to Alanis Morrisette

3:57 pm

Friday, July 15, 2005

Excite Me

Harry Potter Harry Potter Harry Potter.

Check this out: New Hogsmeade!

I want to go! Wah.

9:36 am

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

LA Post The First

Damn. When too much time has passed, I don't get excited about telling old stories here. But I promised photos and tales about my time in LA, so I guess that's what I'll do. This is potentially a good thing because I'd otherwise have to come up with various other interesting things to blog about and after an uber productive and tiring day at work, I'm not feeling particularly interesting right now.

When I talk about LA, I gloat because I managed to see and do so much in so little time. I even learned how to get around using their public transportation system (something not well-liked or understood by the locals). So, The Been There, Done That List:

In LA County:
Downtown LA, Bel-Air, Beverly Hills, Hollywood, Torrance, Gardena, Culver City, Inglewood, Palos Verdes, Santa Monica

Beaches:
Redondo, Hermosa, Manhattan, Venice/Muscle, Santa Monica

Not bad for a total of 3 days spent in the city, eh? Thanks to Dave and his uber cool Mustang for carting my Canadian arse all over the place - if it weren't for him that list would be half the size. And of course, there was Orange County where I spent 7 days in Orange for my conference. Most of us spent the 4th of July at Newport Beach, so that's another one added to my list. Other than that, I don't really feel like talking about the conference very much - I'm sure you've heard enough whining by now. And even if you haven't, I've had enough with my own whining.

In Orange County:
Orange, Anaheim, Downtown Disney, Newport Beach

Back to LA.

I spent my Canada Day being unpatriotic and flew down to the US, only to be proud all over again and taught Dave that July 1st is indeed Canada's birthday. He's probably forgotten by now, but that was my patriotic act for the day - that, and I gave him a cheesy t-shirt with my country's name plastered all over the front in bold, bright red letters. Ooh, his Mustang - how could I forget? Here's the sweet sweet ride that I had for a day and a half:


A real beauty, ain't she?

Lunch at some fancy restaurant in Beverly Hills:


Yup. That's definitely a whole crab covered in tempura.

I spent the aft at The Farmer's Market and The Grove where I saw this in the ladies washroom:


Those LA people really know how to live it up in a restroom, huh?

Funny story about The Grove. As I'm sitting there basking in the super strong Californian sun, watching a fountain show with spraying choregraphed to When the moon hits your eye..., a man comes up to me and asks if what I'm holding is a camera. "Uh, yes...?" I'm wondering if he's some sort of weirdo, when my thoughts are confirmed by his asking to take a picture of me. Not with me, but of me. Goodness knows why he wanted to, but in my stupid flattered-ness, I handed over my camera and he snapped away. It was weird. I thought he was going to run away with it, but he handed it back after clicking more because he realized I have dimples. Very weird. We got to chatting and he was a rather nice fellow (named Roger) and told me the right places to hit while I'm in LA. He eventually offered to drive me around town - "Oh, the pleasure would be all mine!" he said - but luckily, I had Dave and Roger eventually confessed to not being able to show me the sights because he was caught up in legal troubles anyway. We eventually parted ways, but not before he gave me his contact info so that if I was ever in the city and needed an escort, I could get in touch.

Yeah, about that. Not so much. Triple weird.

Then we hit Hollywood.


Spiderman had uber hot buns in this skin tight costume, and I'm still not a Star Wars fan even after this encounter with Chewy.


Zorro and Dave fought over me. Dave won. Sorta.


Is it really a surprise that my hands are only 1cm bigger, even though I'm triple the age she was when these prints were made?

And I leave you with this:


Me and a selection of hats.

7:51 pm

Monday, July 11, 2005

Sweet Sweet Home

Something about American Airlines is rubbing me the wrong way. Maybe it's the fact that they only had 25 blankets to hand out on a flight with many many more cold people than that. Maybe it's the fact that they had no food for me (not even peanuts or pretzels!) on the almost 5 hour flight there and when I wanted to buy food on the 5 or so hours on the way home, they told me they didn't take Canadian money.

And is this just me or what: My feet seriously grew a size or two during the flight (both ways). I took my sandals off and by the time we landed they didn't fit anymore. Does the air pressure make your feet swell or something? Weird.

My last two days in LA were the best ever. Ever. Stories and photos to come.

12:19 am

Saturday, July 09, 2005

LA Hopping

Thought I'd calm your fears a bit - I'm doing juuust fine. I'm in Santa Monica now, staying right by Venice Beach and having quite a good time, really! Heading to Hollywood tonight and not thinking about anything mushy. Yay for fun.

12:30 pm

Friday, July 08, 2005

Untitled

Breathe deep and slowly and do not think about how you saw a bucket hat at The Gap months ago and thought about buying him one because he was so sad when he lost his so many years ago only to have him show up with one on his head that looks almost exactly like the one you saw all those months ago that you thought about buying him, but it looks like someone else beat you to it. Do not think about how well you still know him after all this time.

Breathe in deep and hold it in your chest and release it slowly to keep the tears in your eyes as you look at him in his wrinkly khakis and that pin-stripe shirt that you love so much. Is it strange that I can still remember how I rolled his sleeves up for him? Is it strange that I can still hear the hum and whir of his laptop in the middle of the night as we lay in bed in each others arms in each others hearts in each other?

Is it so unbelievable that when I found out that he is now dating someone even though he said to me that it would take him so long so long so long to be ready for another relationship, gosh she must be something special to have helped him get over all that, that I cried and cried and cried cried cried so hard that I shook as I choked on my sobs on that cold metal bench by myself in the cold California night and then skipped a lecture skipped a social skipped out on everything that I flew five hours for because I needed to cry cry cry and write it all out and cry some more and then sleep it off and hide it from everyone else.

Is it not funny that the big guy upstairs keeps tempting and testing me with one slap in the face after another? Dear God, this isn't funny. I will defy you I will not let you get the best of me I will be tough as nails on the outside to cover up the emptiness on the inside so that I will say no when the offer is made to stay with him in the city. I will not give in to the familiarity I will not give in to the comfort because all of that is dead dead dead now. There is no more comfort and the things that were once familiar are so strange and they are not mine to be familiar with anyway. I will do this on my own and I will wonder why these things are happening to me because I thought you were supposed to look after my soul.

Breathe deep.

5:30 pm

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

WH-FREAKING-Y?

I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it. I don't get it.

Why are we here, why together, why at the same place, the same time? I had no idea he was coming. No idea no idea no idea. Why do we think alike? Do we think alike? What does this mean? Does it mean anything at all?

Why am I watching him? Why why why. It's so unbelievably ridiculous because I look at him and he's looking at another girl. Classic love triangle. And it freaking sucks. I'm so stupid. Stupid stupid stupid me. Stupid stupid. STUPID!

STOP. I need to stop looking. I need to stop thinking. I need to stop CRYING in the middle of a lecture on science fiction literature because for SOME REASON I can't stop thinking about HIM. I need to stop stop stop stop STOP. I need to run away. Ha, from California of all places! Can you imagine, me, running AWAY from California. How ironic. I thought I would escape him here.

I'm a sucker. A sucker who needs to stop thinking about the past, who needs to stop thinking in general. I need to stop looking, watching, seeing him here, looking and watching and seeing other girls. Stop stop stop.

Stop.

How is one expected to have fun in an environment like this? Is it possible? Crappity crap, this freaking sucks. I am so frustrated I want to scream.

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4:20 pm

Signs

He believed in signs and I didn't. Everything has inherent meaning, he said. But at the beginning of the relationship, when I asked what he thought of the speeding ticket he got when coming to pick me up for our 'first date', he thought nothing of it. Secretly, the pot of violets he got me for my birthday and how they bloomed so beautifully was a sign to me that things were well. When we broke up, he told me that there were signs. Things telling him that we should not be together. The stars were aligning, things were starting to make sense. The speeding ticket was a warning after all. He sent me the results of a tarot card reading that I never looked at. I saw signs too. The pot of violets died and got thrown away without me knowing. I've tried to ignore signs since then. Something only has meaning when you assign one to it.

I came to California expecting a good time and a tan. I wanted new friends and lots of memories from the conference. I did not expect to see his name on a tag, waiting to be picked up at the registration table when I walked into the building. I'm serious. There it was, JS, Wilfrid Laurier University. My breath caught in my throat, I wanted to vomit. I thought my knees were going to give. I thought it was a joke. A sick joke. Who would do this to me? Why is this happening? Is he actually going to be here? HERE, at Chapman University, in Orange, Orange County, California, all the way across the continent, HERE? WITH ME? To the big guy upstairs, this isn't funny.

And it's not. I was upset, very upset in the beginning. I wasn't going to make a big deal out of it, or tell anyone other than my roommate, but I knew that this was going to change everything. When I talked to Annia, I told her that I was sad going to the US by myself - the last time I was there was with him. Don't worry, this time you'll be alone and the next time, you'll be able to say that the last time you were there was by yourself. We were wrong. I wanted to do this by myself. I wanted this experience to be for me. I'm not going to be immature and say that this ruins everything - but it comes close. Remember how much I thought about him before? Imagine me, sitting in a classroom with him, having meals with him (close by), even spending the 4th of July with him. I'm surprised I haven't freaked out and got on an early plane for home. I thought about it though.

The 4th. We had effectively avoided each other for almost 24 hours. I decided to gather my guts and tried to talk to him but we had nothing to say to each other. I left with tears in my eyes and spent half my lunch hour crying in front of a computer. I wanted to run away and celebrate the holiday with some friends at the beach. Without him. And there we were, on a bus talking about music and having fun, going to the beach, when at some random bus stop, he steps on. 5 years ago, 1 year ago, 7 months ago and this would have been a dream come true. But now (then), it completely deflated me. I spent the evening thinking that we had never been to a beach together, never swam in the ocean together. I watched him talk to loved ones on the phone, sift through the sand for seashells. I watched him laugh and have fun and fall in infatuation with other girls. I watched his eyes and saw the way he looked at her - he used to look at me like that.

Why are we here? Why did he get on that bus? Why are we together? Why now?

1:06 am

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

From Cali, With Love

I was definitely awake for 23 hours my first day in Los Angeles because of the time difference - but it was worth it because I saw nearly everything that tourist needs to see in the city AND I got to do some things that local-y type people would too.

My host, Dave, was so superfantastic that I don't even have words for it. He took the morning off work to pick me up from the airport, drove me around to see all the places I wanted to see (coincidentally all the places he hated), took me to lunch, dropped me off at The Grove and Farmer's Market so I could shop (which I did - I got this dorky bright blue cowboy hat that I adore and yes, there will be photos upon my return). Then, more sight-seeing, a lovely Mexican dinner and more driving and seeing and then when we were exhausted, he gave me his bed to sleep in. Is that chivalry or what? The next morning, he took me to the beach and we walked all along The Strand, I got some sun and the Pacific lapped at my feet. After a Peruvian lunch, he drove me all the way to Orange for my conference.

Moreover, I did all that riding in a Mustang. A MUSTANG. It's nice. I've got photos to prove it.

Dave, obviously, is way too cool.

A caution though (and he wisely reminded me of this as I was gushing about how nice he is) - not everyone is like him. And this is true because he could have been a 75 year old rapist-murderer pretending to be a 24 year old nice-guy, but he wasn't. If you don't know what the big deal is, I met Dave online about a year and a half (two years?) ago through Annia and yeah, after not talking for months, I told him I was coming to LA and accepted his gracious offer to stay with him. It sounded crazy to my friends and family but I'm glad I did because otherwise, I'd probably be alone and/or dead in Inglewood right now. Travelling alone when you're a 21 year old sissy girl is probably not the best and brightest idea.

Anyhoo, I'm safe and sound in Orange right now, enjoying my seminar, and OH MY GOODNESS, do I have a story to tell you. Just wait a sec while I try to find the words (you know, the ones that aren't obscenities).

5:09 pm