Parallel Loves

The other night, I met a girl who just landed in Los Angeles a week ago with practically the same situation with her recent ex as I had with mine. Our stories though different, ended on parallel terms and it reminded me of the First Love a cappella cover I did while I was still living in NY.

I learned the [very simple] piano accompaniment to it so I decided to redo the song. It so succinctly puts my feelings from 3 years ago into words that I can’t help but love this song which speaks about the loss of the same sentiment.

The video is still uploading to youtube and I’ve got to go to the gym so if you want to give a listen check back here later. Uploaded! :)


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I miss my drinking buddies.

Since I moved back to Cali, my tolerance has slowly deteriorated. I guess that’s KIND of good thing. It definitely makes the nights less expensive and should I ever let a guy buy me a drink… at least I’m a cheap date, right? I can definitely still outdrink any skinny minny, size 2 in Hollywood and whatever douche who’s at her side, BUT it’s a certainty: I can’t hold my liquor as well as I did in NY or SD.

Speaking of which… I wonder who could outdrink who: my friends that reside on the east coast or those I now share an ocean with. I can only imagine the mischief I’d get into should my NY and San Diego friends ever congregate in one city. There have been mixings of course, but never an all out crazed night of throwing back whiskey and g&t’s. I think I need to make that happen.

Point of this post: I’m officially looking for boozing buddies. And hiking buddies. And willing-to-attend-gallery-openings buddies. Lol. Basically what I need to do is stop going out of town and actually meet people in the city where I purportedly come from. It’s insane that I grew up here and aside from my awesome work friends, extremely large family and the random university friends who happen to live in LA, I don’t really know very many people. I’m so used to picking up the phone and calling Jess, or Anna, or Jesper, or Alex, etc., etc. and convincing them to go grab a drink with me on a random Tuesday night.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to go back to my partying ways in NY (I admit I was kind of out of control for a few months there), but it would be nice to not be so responsible all the time. I think it’s about time I find some irresponsible friends to play with in El Yay.

I’m taking to the streets. Drink up, ya bums.

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Super Woman

The Daily Post suggestion I found in my email box this morning asked me the question, “Who is your greatest hero of all time?” It was honestly almost too appropriate for the date. Though some might find my answer cliché, it’s all to easy: my mom.

My Gorgeous Mom | © 2010

To understand why would take a novel but suffice it to say, I take the most after her. Both the good and the bad things I’ve inherited from her personality make me exactly what I am today and as I’ve said before… I’m kind of happy to be me. She truly is a real life super hero and has overcome and sacrificed so much for her children, her husband, her parents, her brothers and sisters, her nieces and nephews and all of her friends.

Growing up and watching my mom bring us up from where we first started as immigrants to this country to where we are now, was such a great life lesson. People wonder why I don’t come off as spoiled when I’m so obviously blessed with parents who would give the world to me if they could and the reason is because I’ve seen and appreciate all the things they’ve done over the years to give us what we have today. I will always remember where I come from, thanks to my mom, and because of that I will always be grateful.

The soundtrack to this video is a recording that my dad, my siblings & I made for my mom on February 2nd, 1990 [I was four].

The first person singing is my dad, followed by my brother, then my sister, then of course me [I’m the one singing “Happy Birthday, dear Mommy”]. You can even hear me giggling at the end when we’re all singing together. I was laughing at my dad who had plugged his nose because we were all huddled around the mic. Little kid breath… awesome.

Happy Birthday, Momma! I love you more than words can say. ♥

More Than Words

New cover today of a song that’s been much too covered, but I don’t care because I love it. I learned the first half of the song way back when I was about 14 from my cousin Missy and continued to know only half of it until today when I finally sat down and decided to learn it in full. It was pretty much the only song I knew on the guitar until I was about 22 when my dad sent me a guitar while I was living in NY to cure me of my homesickness [it worked for a spell]. Considering I only knew how to play the verses, no one ever wanted to hear me play it.

I’ve always loved the message of this song. Though I do talk a lot—this blog is evidence enough of that—I’ve never been very skilled at verbally expressing how I feel about someone unless I have time to sit down and write out a thoughtful letter. I think it’s because I learned early on that romantic words can be just that… words. And even more dangerous: words that are carefully placed together to create a loving scenario whether the love actually exists or not.

In my last semi-relationship, my main fault—according to the guy—was my incapacity for letting him know how I felt about him. He needed me to open up; I needed him to give me time. I always thought the little things I did like taking care of him when he was sick, or cooking him dinner or trying my best to get to know his friends and still give him space was enough to show that he was different, he was special… to me.

But guess what? It wasn’t. Oh well… as I always say, c’est la vie.

Either I find a guy who just gets my weird ways or I’ll be a forever bachelor. And yes, I think women can be them too. Screw the “ette”… if I go by that term, I’ll be called an old maid by the time I’m 40. And who wants that?

Anywho… here’s the cover. I had one… two… three… maybe four serious mess ups, but me thinks it’ll do.

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Oafish Laughter

I tend to avoid hearing recordings of myself speak.

In my head, I imagine sounding polished, my voice just the right amount of smoothness & depth, with a bit of elegance to my accent. In reality, my voice is much higher pitched than I’d prefer [it reaches the point of shrill at times] & every so often that old valley accent that I attempted to correct long ago is resurrected without my knowledge [usually at high points of excitement].

What I dread to hear all the more are recordings of my laughter. Some of my friends, in their polite fashion, have told me that my laughter is delightful and infectious [probably because they’re laughing AT me] but let’s be honest: I guffaw. I cackle. When I laugh, it’s usually so hard that my entire body is affected by it: head back, shoulder’s shaking, foot stomping the ground and hands clapping. Lord, I must look like a fool when I laugh. An oaf, so to speak.

Case in point: a video my cousins and I made one day after the gym when we were in a goofy sort of mood [disclaimer: I look like an absolute idiot for 99.9% of this vid but I’m totally ok with that]—

Despite this known fact, I can’t help but laugh all the time [much to the dismay of the people around me]. Laughing is simply one of my favorite things to do—especially when I laugh at myself. In fact, I need to be able to! I fall a lot and sometimes catch myself saying the most idiotic things. If I took myself too seriously, I would have an extremely low sense of self [I don’t].

So, shrill voice and oafish laughter aside, I kind of like myself a whole lot. Which is a good thing…

I think.

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The Only Exception

Yes, I know… I went MIA.

Blame NY, blame Las Vegas and lastly blame LA. Suffice it to say: my life over the last 3 months has been one whirlwind of adventure. This warrants several posts so I’ll save the stories for a later date (but I’m not promising anything).

I did, however, upload a new video on my [even more neglected than wordpress] youtube page.

And before any of you curious little critters decide to message me with questions about my love life: no, I have not found my only exception. Still… it doesn’t mean I can’t sing about it. ♥

“The Only Exception” by Paramore


I’ve gotten myself addicted to a remix of Britney Spears’ Toxic. It’s eerily beautiful and the singer, Yael Naim, has a quality about her voice that’s just so damn sexy. It’s pretty much the hottest song I’ve heard in quite a while. I can’t imagine anyone not getting all hot & bothered after listening to it.

There’s also a dubstep version of her cover which is just as good though it’s more dance floor and the other is more bedroom, lol—

I might just have to dust off the ol’ freakumdress tonight. Damn.

No.thing of Inter.est

Is it really possible that there are only 6.5 days left in June? I feel like 2010 just started yesterday. How did half a year pass by so quickly? This month in and of itself involved so much : moving to Brooklyn, a new job, award shows, moonlighting as a hair model, a trip to LA, skydiving, too many barbecues to count, drinking, dating and everything in between.

Despite the craziness of my schedule and the endless cycle of ups and downs in both my personal and professional life, I feel like I’m always waiting for the next step, the next big plan, the next change… the next anything. I’ve never been too good at reading myself and now I can’t help but wonder : what in the world am I waiting for? I recently finished a great book by Lev Grossman entitled The Magicians in which the title character continuously struggles to find satisfaction and fulfillment even when the happenings of his life unfold exactly as he had yearned for, albeit his ability to actually enjoy it.

I found it so frustrating that this character could have everything in the world he wanted, yet still failed in feeling gratified. As for myself, it’s not that I’m unhappy or dissatisfied—it’s the exact opposite actually—but there’s always this incommunicable desire for something more. Maybe that’s a good thing.

At least it keeps me moving, no?

Unrelated, but I feel like sharing, I did another video. When I was home last weekend I remembered this wonderfully morose song about almost loves that my friend and I did back in university. There was always something so lovely in the melancholy yet simple melody.

On that note… I miss my piano. I think I’ll go play in the park. <3 | 21 june to 5 july