blog crack

*meep*

First of all let me apologize for my lack of updates. I'm sorry if I worried some of you (Zigs, Angel, Sar, Phoenix, Jay, Will D. and Leafgirl). I'm alright, in fact, I'm great. I've just been so over my head busy that I haven't been able to blog.

I know, I know (I'm the worst). Sadly, I haven't even been able to read anyone's blogs either. I've been a bad blog friend and I'm sorry for not visiting you like I should have.

The thing is, I've gotten my shit together. At least for the past 30 days. If you may remember, I set some intentions for 2006 and, as hard as it may be to believe, I've actually been doing the things I had set out for myself.

2006 is turning out to be a great year. Here are some highlights to get you up to date:

* I've been working on my novel -- a lot -- and pushing through some really difficult scenes that in the past have spun me into a writers' block funk.

* I've had three different friends, two of whom I don't get to see very often (at most 1-2 a year) visit me. One of the assets of living in a major city that people like to travel to.

* The place I work for (SF Station), that was based out my apartment for the last DECADE, finally moved out into an actual office space (I moved into the office/flat last year and it has been...difficult...living in a place that served as an office for 6 other guys). Sharing one bathroom with six smelly, disgusting, hairy males = not fun.


* Because of the move (which has totally changed my life), I've had to spend the last few weeks de-SF Stationing my flat. It's quite an effort. This weekend consisted of painting for 10 hours and then spending 6 hours at IKEA the next day and then another 6 hours putting all our new shit together. We are far from done. I'm thinking of opening a goddamn sweatshop just so I can have little Chinese children put my shit together for me; having small fingers makes it easier.

* I've been actually, consistently sticking to a schedule. This means I've been actually doing the stuff I need to get done *when* I need to get it done. This plays into my intention to be better at time management. This means actually focusing on work while at work rather than blogging.

* I've started a meditation practice. Ha, "practice" -- that sounds so fancy. Really, I've just been meditating when I wake up and before bed. This also helps with the whole "being better at time management and being more present-minded" intention.

* I've been cooking. A lot.

* I've found a cure for leprosy.

* I've been working out like a mad woman. Nothing gym rat-like. Just trying to do something physically active every day. And doing "it" does not count. Unfortunately.

* I was just kidding about the whole leprosy thing. But I'm not kidding about being bummed about not having the time to blog. I'm just trying to fit it into my currently insane schedule. I don't think it would be that bad if I wasn't simultaneously transitioning a move in both my office and my flat. And all the visitors have significantly boosted my social life.

But enough excuses, blogging is really important to me and I have to make time for it. I feel like I have all these friends now who let me glimpse into their lives all around the world. And that's really special. As well as a bit stalker-ish. Hmmmm. Anyways, I will get in gear. I promise.

Please don't abandon me. Keep the faith my blog friends, keep the faith.

In honor of Martin Luther the King. An excerpt from one of my favorite speeches, Where Do We Go From Here?:

"...I am concerned about a better world. I'm concerned about justice. I'm concerned abour brotherhood. I'm concerned about truth. And when one is concerned about these, he can never advocate violence. For through violence you may murder a murderer but you can't murder murder. Through violence you may murder a liar but you can't establish truth. Through violence you may murder a hater, but you can't murder hate. Darkness cannot put out darkness. Only light can do that.

And I say to you, I have also decided to stick to love. For I know that love is ultimately the only answer to mankind's problems. And I'm going to talk about it everywhere I go. I know it isn't popular to talk about it in some circles today. I'm not talking about emotional bosh when I talk about love, I'm talking about a strong, demanding love. And I have seen too much hate on the faces of sheriff's in the South. I've seen hate on the faces of too many Klansmen and too many White Citizens Councilors in the South to want to hate myself, because every time I see it, I know that it does something to their faces, and their personalities and I say to myself that hate is too great a burden to bear. I have decided to love."

They sure don't make 'em like they used to. Happy Birthday MLK.

This morning the writing partner and I somehow got on to the topic of ouija boards.

Honestly, I'm astounded at how this "game" even made it out of the Parkers Brothers' (makers of fine family friendly games like Scrabble, Monopoly and Boggle) factory. Who was the stoner exec who came up with that concept? "Hey! Let's create a game that looks like a harmless teaching device for three-year olds but which 10 to 13-year old girls can use to talk directly with Satan!"

It surprises me that kids (including myself) that age were still gullible (read: stupid) enough to even think that the thing actually worked. I mean, it was made out of cardboard and was bought at, like, Sears. And what kind of parent would willingly buy their children a cheap-ass occult item?

For those of you who don't know how it works, the Ouija Board is supposed to be a tool with which one could communicate with the dead. It's like Seance Lite. One or more people sit around the board and each puts either both or one of their hands on the "communicating device" and then they you'all wait for the damn thing to move (guided by spirits of course) and start spelling things out for you and giving you "messages" from beyond, things like "Sandy smells and everyone hates her." Which, of course, sends Sandy spiraling out of the room in tears (it was the ultimate slumber party tool for vengeful, hateful bitches.) You could also ask it questions and it would magically answer. Things like "Does Tommy Myers really like me?" or "Will I get my period soon?". More often than not, the answer was "no".

The most important thing about the Ouija board was that it was a tool that let you know which one of your "friends" was a total and complete liar. There was always one person that moved the device and yet no one would ever cop to it. As the writing partner quipped, "If you have four honest people, the Ouija Board ain't working."

Raise your hand if you've ever played around with one of those things.

The other day when I was getting a sandwich at Estela's, the best sandwich place in all of SF, I overheard two oh-so-young recent Brown grads (on a side note: why is it that ninety-freakin-percent of both Wesleyan and Brown live in San Francisco? Do they receive a one-way ticket with their diploma upon graduation or something?) talking about their proms and how they didn't go and how glad they were that they had skipped it and blah blah blah (translation: they couldn't find dates and were still trying to justify to themselves, five years after the fact, why it was "okay" that they had missed out one of the most important rites of passages in their young lives).

Personally, I loved the freakin' prom. PROM rocked. You know those moments, those rare moments in your life during which, all of a sudden, you have a moment of clarity in which you experience absolute contentment? Sometimes it could be at a party and some song'll start playing and all of sudden you'll get transported to this amazingly happy plane and you'll look over at friend and know they are on the same level and you'll both just smile. Well that was prom for me. It was the world at my feet.

It was the end of an incredibly hard year full of change. Classes were over. I had gotten into a great school. Track season had ended (I was a captain =>). Of course, then there was the whole incident in which I was "outed" as a lesbian... Long story short. We were hanging out at a track meet, I was going on about the whole "needing a date" bullshit for prom (this was, of course, because I had no date. I had really wanted to go with one of my best friends Steve L. but he had already gotten asked out by someone else. Damn you, Steve, damn you).

Anyways, I was saying that people should just bring their friends if they wanted to. One such friend, a girl, was all "I would totally love to go to prom!" To which I said, "You know what? Fuck it. You should come with me! It'll be awesome."
Bad move, Anhoni. Bad move. Some asshole (Kyle W.) overheard the last bit of this conversation and before I knew it, the next day the entire school thought I was a lesbian (of which I am not -- not that there's anything wrong with that) who was going to prom with a girl (again, also straight) whom I had asked to come as my lesbian lover. I had suddenly become a Queer figurehead. Ah, the memories!

Teachers gave me encouraging nods, as if to say "Stay strong, young sista, stay strong!" I got secretive little pep talks and one or two people even credited me for their coming out of the closet. No one believed me (except my friends) when I said "Dudes, I'm totally not a lesbian." Needless to say, this didn't help any in the getting a date for prom quest. Or maybe it did and I just didn't know it; we all know how guys are into that sort of thing.

Well, I panicked and decided to not go with my friend after all, deciding to ask another friend, David R., if he wanted to come instead. I thought I was pretty clear that I had no ulterior motives and that I was very much NOT interested in him as a boyfriend or anything of the sort, but, of course, he thought I had the hots for him anyways and proceeded to start acting weird, in the way adolescent boys are wont to do, for the rest of the remaining year and through all of prom itself. But that was just fine because I was...otherwise occupied with someone else during prom. But more on that later. Ahem.

Contributing to my Queer figurehead status, I was also the first girl to ever attend Prom wearing a pair of slacks (I wore a very tasteful DKNY ensemble). Again more nods from the teachers. It also didn't help that my mother decided to give me what she liked to call a "haircut" right before the anticipated event. I had a cute little bob, I came out of the Patel Salon with a decidedly butch boy cut. Ugh. It was the penultimate bad hair day look.

But even with all this crap, I still had the time of my life. I was with my best friends with whom I shared a stretch limo. I felt beautiful and carefree and it was the spring evenings of all evenings. We went predictably ape shit on the limo drive over and I felt an amazing pull towards one of my friend's charming dates (he was a childhood friend and they weren't going as a couple per say) who I just couldn't get enough of.

Prom was held in this great loft in Soho, the same place where they filmed the party scenes in When Harry Met Sally, and we had this amazing view of the city as the sun went down and twilight settled over the town. When I looked out onto the vista, I felt as if the whole world was laid out before me and it was full of nothing but opportunities. I could go anywhere and do anything. You know what I mean? That feeling you get (most often) when you are young and anything and everything is yet possible. I was absolutely brimming with that feeling.

The food was delicious and the music was amazing and even though my stupid, arrogant "date" refused to dance with me, my friend's date was more than obliged to do so. Afterwards, we hopped back into the limo and went clubbing all night then went to a classmates and had breakfast at 7am and then drove out to the beach where we reveled in the night and nursed our hopes.

It is one of my most cherished memories. Particularly for all that it represented and all the dreams of contentment that it held. I'll say it again. Prom was one of the best nights. Ever.

What was your prom like?

I just posted a review of Match Point on the KQED arts blog Scene and Unseen. Please check it out and let me know what you think! Here's a tease...

Has Woody Allen finally forsaken Manhattan? In this, his first film to be shot entirely in Britain, he both literally and creatively ventures into new territory (with the same old credits, of course). The last two films of Allen's I saw -- Melinda Melinda and Anything Else -- were physically tortuous. Match Point, thankfully, was not. Although the psychological thriller was so suspenseful at times that I did want to get up and leave the theater.

The two leads, Scarlett Johansson and Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, whose collective pouts alone could spark a new trend in cosmetics, are excellent as Nola and Chris, two lovers who enter into an illicit affair; their chemistry is palpable. Chris is an Irish ex-pro tennis player with working class roots who forsakes competition and becomes a tennis instructor at an exclusive club in London. While there he meets Tom Hewitt (Brian Cox) and the two hit it off famously. Tom introduces Chris to his sweet, wide-eyed sister Chloe (Emily Mortimer) and they begin to date. But not before Chris also meets Nola, Tom's feisty, sexy fiance. She's the kind of woman that can stop traffic with a single glance, wrap a man around her little finger in the manner of seconds and destroy lives with a kiss.

Go here for the rest of the review!

Okay, let's face it. New Year's resolutions suck. Really they do. You hardly ever accomplish them and at the end of the year when you drunkenly reflect on your failures, it just makes you feel more like crap than you already do or will soon be as you then start drinking again to drown our your sorrows. Anyhow.

Nonetheless, I always make it a list. I write it down on a post-it and I tape it to my mirror so that I can reflect on them while getting ready in the morning. Every year for some years now, I've been collecting my friends' resolutions as well and then emailing them out to everyone on the list so that we can each hold one another accountable (read: give each other sh*t about it the following NYE).

Last year I did away with the term "resolution" and instead replaced it with "goals", as in New Year's Goals. While the pain of not accomplishing those was somewhat less painful, it sucked anyways.

So, this year I've chosen yet another term -- "intention". Things that you will try to do. And, hey, you can look back on them on NYE 2007 and say "Hell, yeah, I tried to learn ancient Greek, tried to learn how to play the piano and tried to lose those 10 pounds! Woo-hoo!" And you can finally be at peace with your lazy-ass self.

Here are my intentions for 2006:

* Try to be more consciously aware and more present minded

* Try to finish my novel by my birthday (5.27)

* Try to be better at time management

* Try to cook more meals

* Try to start meditating

* Try to explore more of SF

* Try to be more physically active

and most importantly

* Try to be more CONSISTENT.

What are some of your intentions this year?

I'm back from NY and recovered from NYE! Here is my holidaze in pictures:


There was lots of this...I made peppermint bark and shortbread cookies and CDs for all my friends.


Has lots of great meals with


friends.


Had a surprise party for one of my cousins


that featured lots of yummy food.


Went home.


Look what my nieces discovered on x-mas morning! My family went a little overboard this year...but it should be noted that half those boxes contained socks.


Spend quailty time with the family...including my beloved ba.


Trucked back to SF and celebrated NYE in style. The pink robes are a long story...


and comfort


and more style...


...


with loved ones...


and family.


We actually went outside in those. My cousin I had thought up a scheme a few months ago of going out to brunch wearing nothing but PJs and pink bathrobes. Then he actually got Kyu and I a pair for x-mas. Well, we never made it out to brunch (I think that may be too embarassing, even for me) but we did venture outside, our first acts for the New Year.

We trekked all over the Mission looking like pimps. We've had this letter mis-delivered to our house for the last freakin' MONTH. It was addressed to someone on 19th St., and our crackhead postman kept on dropping it in our box (on 17th St.) Mind you it was VERY clearly addressed to 19th Street. Anyways, we decided to deliver it ourselves. Dressed in our robes. A good deed for the New Year. And then we tried to satisfy my It-Its craving but everything in the hood was closed. I missed NY right then. How could you possibly close a liquor store on NYE? But it was brief. Because I was with my best friends and happy and home.

Happy New Year!