Moth Orgy

November 26, 2013 § Leave a comment

Tis time for the tale of the fall invasion. My home and my sanity was under attack. Don’t worry there’s a moral and happy ending, but this is no fable. I am not Aesop or Hans Christian Anderson. I’m pretty sure they would be pussies in a street fight.hans-christian-anderson

The first day of fall ushered in autumnal despair, but by the end of October it was a comedy of errors. All summer I had been getting my mind right, adult tendency style. Eating clean, exercising, beauty rest, and meditation. I would come home from yoga, lay out on my roof while enjoying guided meditation courtesy of youtube. It was fantastic, I was meeting my spirit guides, we’d have imaginary coffee and clean out my chalkras. I was full-on California crazy. Haters gonna hate.

The beginning of fall in SoCal is HOT, some of the hottest days make homes in late September. The good part about living by the beach is that this hot spell lasts for about three weeks then it’s back to being perfect. A 21 day blemish on our year round climate means we don’t have air conditioning. What’s better than an ocean breeze? Drinking a glass of wine while enjoying the ocean breeze (that’s about it). So when I wrapped up my meditation for the morning (which was interrupted by a slamming door, but it’s city not solitude), I left the bedroom window wide open, inviting the breeze in.

The next part of my routine would commence with working on my book (currently searching for an agent and publisher, if you know anyone). I was rooted in routine for 6 months, but this day would put a stop to my regimented bliss. I was on the lower level of my townhouse-esque apartment when I smelled a cigarette. “Fucking neighbor kid,” I thought. This punk was always sneaking out onto the roof trying to get addicted to things. I went up stairs and shut the bedroom blinds and the window (almost all the way) out of disgust. Back downstairs in my writing lair, I heard someone pacing on the roof above. I immediately felt bad for my neighbor kid accusations. Probably a cable guy instead. The connection is always going out, we live in an imperfect world. I went back to my procrastination– I mean, novel writing.

Then I heard the upstairs window open. What the what? “Cable guy, seriously, you have no business poking around in a strict internet only household.” I went up stairs to investigate. Two steps from the top I smelled the dirty sweat soaked stench of supposed cable worker. I enter an empty room. I pass our his and her closets to peek in the master bathroom. No one. I turn around to reveal, hiding inside the closet, my intruder, inches away from my face. From the stench, he was quite homeless, about my height, white, skinny, and holding a shit ton of Mister Red’s clothes. It didn’t even take a split second for me to go all mother bear on his ass.bear-mad

I ripped the clothes out of his hands and started screaming, “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!” A change cup fell out of his grip, coins clanging on the floor. This punk had a death grip on these clothes. As he climbed out the window he came in, I grabbed again at the articles, tugging on the last of my possessions in his hands. Leaving a trail of his bounty he rounded the corner to the roof access staircase. I shut the window behind him.

You can imagine where it goes from here. “He fixes the cable?” No, Dude, I call 911 and await his exit on my front balcony, which he makes through the parking garage. In the 30 Minutes it takes the cops to arrive, my downstairs neighbor comes home to find me all Repunzel panic, shaking from adrenaline. He cases the block and finds no one. Mister Red makes it home just as the cops walk up and we asses the damage together. He didn’t get away with much, a pair of ugly shoes I wanted Red to donate anyway, a broken ipod from 2005, and my sense of security.

I like to think it was my incredible hearing and quick response preventing the trespasser from noticing my jewelry box and the hidden cash stash, but it might also been the disarray of the room. It was messier than a 6 year old boy who spent the weekend with dad. The cops came up to investigate, took one look at the clothes strewn on the floor and the crap on the dresser and asked, “now was the room…like this?”

I hung my head in shame, “Yes, yes it was, I’m disgusting.” Even street vagrants have boundaries. Breaking into my bedroom was like attempting to sift through messy thrift store clothes after a black friday sale. You don’t even know where to begin and the chaos almost makes it not worth it. If I were him I would have taken one look inside and turned around. Too messy, not worth it.

The next week, I bribed good friends with free laundry. While they were using my washer and dryer, I snuck away to shower. There really is safety in numbers. As long as there was someone trusted on site, I felt safe.

In the weeks that followed, more unfortunate happenings came crashing down. I chased an overseas job offer right up until the last moment, denying that the hiring manager was being unprofessional. I fought off two swarms of termites. Our building put bars on our windows. Now I live in jail. One of the studios I was working at closed and another client didn’t renew a contract, thus losing almost half my bread and butter in the process. Moths infested the cupboards. After several nights of coming home to moth orgies, only two survive and I will kill them and any babies they try to have in my vaulted ceiling.

Sometimes events beyond your control force you to assess the state of your life. This fall my nose was being rubbed in the state of my life so far it felt like it wasn’t even my life. Shit does happen, you can’t get around it. Could I have kept my window shut? Sure, but I could have died from heat stroke instead of just a victim of a quick B & E. Should I have taken that job in Dubai so I wouldn’t be scraping by? Maybe, but I would be in despair over missing Mister Red and/or forced into sex trafficking. Should I have googled “moth orgy” sooner? Yes.

What’s the moral? Sex trafficking is not always a risk, but if it is, you should say ‘no’ to the opportunity. Don’t ever stand for moths to host orgies in your house, act immediately. And lastly… don’t deny trauma, accept change, react and adapt. Sometimes you have to sit in Hell’s waiting room to get a hall pass back to paradise. Paradise being grateful. Grateful for your life and all the people and things in it. The good things will remain while the bad things reveal themselves. Dispose of bad things properly.

And maybe consider self-defense training. Just in case you gotta throw some ‘bows ever.

satanswaitin8

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Things To Do Before 30

November 19, 2013 § 1 Comment

images-1Last year (29), and the year before (28), I thought turning 30 was going to be a big deal. I needed to prepare and get my shit together to deal with this big deal of living three decades. Doom and gloom, big deal. Apocalypse is coming, big deal. The end is neigh, big deal. But now that the day is less then a month away, I don’t want to deal with it at all.

More often than not, people survive their 30th birthdays. They don’t catch fire, or spontaneously combust.  There isn’t an immaculate conception, maybe they just get really drunk and have unprotected birthday sex. Or maybe they actually WANT to get pregnant. But just because you turn 30, doesn’t mean you are going to have a baby. They aren’t mutually exclusive or anything (but it’s pretty likely you’ll start considering offspring after 30 if you haven’t already).

When you turn 30, no one takes away your irresponsible youth card and registers you as a republican. No one is going to stop you from buying that new Michael Kors bag and put that $300 into your retirement fund. You won’t wake up to notice you have more wrinkles than Tara Reid’s bad tummy tuck, but you might want to do some crunches, first thing. It’s going to be like every other birthday after 25, and just sting a little.

Although, I’m secretly hoping I’m wrong, and something spectacular happens to me. Like I wake up with a super power or something equally exciting. What if somehow in the night my brain is infused with wise antidotes for every situation and I finally excel at mental math? Or a genetic micro chip-like device is activated by age and reveals the meaning of life then I can finally follow my path without anxiety.

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When I turned 20, I thought I was going to do some seriously insane things before I turned 30, like get married and have at least 2 kids. I wanted to be rich and a power player like the kids you read about on the 30 Under 30 (those jerks). I wanted to find my 6 pack and do a back handspring. I thought I was going to be pretty hot shit at 30. Hot shit in a power suit.

Of course that all was a pipe dream. So now, with less than a month before I turn 30… here is a list of things I’m going to try to accomplish in my last few weeks as a 20-something. Obviously, time is running out. Tic Toc.

30 Days to 30 Bucket List.

1. Participate in a dance performance. Or “dance off”and this can be a living room activity.

2. Go to a fancy dinner party, act like yuppies, and drink too much wine.

3. See Hawaii.

4. Do a handstand.

5. Purge all the things I don’t need or never use. (this one sounds like I’m already 30).

6. Purge all the people who don’t contribute to my happiness.

7. Throw a pie in someone’s face.

8. Start therapy. (because after I turn 30, I’m probably going to need it).

9. One last piggy back ride.

10. Topless beach. (what if I turn 30 and they immediately sag to librarian status?)

11. Renew my passport (I’m going places in my 30s… but that’s a different list.)

12. Scuba dive. (but I might settle for a really amazing hike excursion).

13. Don’t kill my basil plant.

14. Make a new friend.

15. Become a REAL author. (this doesn’t mean whisky drinking, I’d settle for an agent taking a serious look at me) AKA start my dream job.

I’m aware some of these might not happen, and count my blessings for the things I have done in my 20s.  I have been lucky enough to have seen the Grand Canyon and The Great Wall of China. I’ve gotten a tattoo, enjoyed a one night stand, and run rampant around for a few days Vegas. I’ve jumped out of an airplane, performed in front of thousands of people, and taken 2 cross country road trips (both with best friends). After living in 3 major metropolitan cities, falling in love (the real kind), and being the co-caretaker of a cat, I think my 20s have been pretty bomb and I still have one month left.

Homecoming

November 12, 2013 § 1 Comment

whatnakedI must confess my absence wasn’t out of complete laziness. I was writing a book. A whole freaking book! Let me tell you something about writing a book… you think you’re all prolific and brilliant until you have to read the same 61,000 words EIGHT times to make sure you’re getting your point across in the most prolific, poetic, and entertaining way possible. No one wants to read a book eight times in eight months, no matter how funny it is or how much sex is in it.

That’s about how long it took me, eight months. That’s averaging a draft a month! I’m really kind of shocked at myself. I hope to continue to shock myself by getting it published. Leaving no stone unturned, email me if you know any literary agents.

Anyway, this feels like a what-I-did-on-summer-vacation type deal. Well… let’s see… my house was broken into while I was home, I entertained a job offer in Dubai, I went to Vegas twice for different bachelorette parties, I attended five weddings, spent one week with extended family (so much family), and I did a lot of yoga. Oh and I started juicing… I’m officially Californian that way.

I was going to come back with a new blog, but I’m still a bachelorette and frankly, this lack in refinement is out of complete laziness. After all, I have a book to beg to get published! My plan is to post on Tuesdays, I’m hoping you’ll read. I promise to be more exciting than this snoozer. I will tell you all about all the stuff up there… you let me know what you want to hear about first.

I also can’t believe some of you were looking forward to my return. When I woke up the ol’ FB page yesterday, I was shocked. There were 2 likes. I guess people really have nothing to do. Sarcasm font, friends, sarcasm font.

btw… today is 11,12,13… how cool is that? It’s like Ryan Gosling in a banana hammock cool. Google glasses ordering a chocolate milkshake, cool. Free trip to outer space, cool. Lifetime supply of cabernet, cool. Literally, so cool.

Where Am I?

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