Last night, I went to a guy's place to make pizza (from scratch), open up a bottle of wine, watch a movie, and enjoy each other's company. Objectively speaking, it was a date and quite a romantic one at that. What I failed to mention was that the guy happens to be my intern at work and I see him more as a little kid brother than anything else. To top it off, I invited along one of the girls in the office to join us, so it definitely was not a date.

It comes as a surprise to me that something so fun, romantic, and somewhat intimate has now been delegated to a "friend activity." In today's world, a date could consist of something so small as getting a cup of coffee or having a drink at a bar. Doesn't picnicking at the park or baking homemade cupcakes sound like more inspiring and creative dates? They are definitely more interesting.

My friends and I picnicking at Golden Gate Park.

My friend and I about to scarf down a Red Velvet cupcake we baked.

What's the deal? I read articles in magazines and online about fun, imaginative date ideas. Why is it, though, that it still always comes back to the same "dinner and a movie" idea? And has it become so ingrained in our minds that the "traditional date" is the only one we can expect that we use gatherings with friends as a surrogate intimate outing?

My take on it is that it's the easy way out. It's difficult enough to take someone out on a date and spark a connection; is there a need to do more than "what is expected" with so much else to worry about? Plus, there is always the possibility that the person might not go for what you have planned. For example, a fashionista model clad in sky-high heels might not appreciate rollerblading down the boardwalk. But, hey, isn't that a good indication of whether or not it's a good match if a person isn't willing (or complains about) a fun, original date? But I digress. It's neither here nor there whether the person enjoys your well-planned date; it's about taking the time to organize such an excursion and the possibility of an increased potential for a favorable outcome. Will it optimize your chances of securing another date? Maybe, maybe not. So why bother at all when you can guarantee a good time with your friends on those same adventures?

I'm divided on this issue. For about a year, all of the dates I have been on have centered around coffee, dessert, a meal, and/or drinks, so I look to my friends for the more interesting undertakings. However, should a future date take the initiative to plan something different than the norm, I would be pleasantly surprised and, admittedly, excited. By no means does this signify higher expectations than socially accepted; perhaps it's more of a fantasy. While I await my prince charming to come sweep me off my feet with an atypical date, I will occupy myself with my own diversions. Not that I am suggesting that I will only be swept away by someone who takes me on a date that deviates from the norm. Oh, hell. I seem to be writing myself into a corner.

P.S. Thanks to Matt and Isabella for a fabulous and entertaining evening!

After writing my latest entry about the perfect moment of waking up with somebody, it soon became clear that it would become the theme of the week. It seems as though I have been coming across plenty of things to support my view on this.

First of all, thank you to Cindy for sending me the link to this image:


My favorite line is "...if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane." My take on this is that when you fall in love with somebody, it falls in one of two categories: you love him/her because you love the way he/she makes you feel about yourself OR you love him/her because he/she makes you want to be a better person. Hopefully, it is the latter case. There is something about that person that blows your mind, makes you see the world from a different perspective, evokes admiration and respect for everything he/she is and even everything he/she isn't. It's not about putting someone on a pedestal, it's about seeing someone in his/her entirety, strengths and flaws, and having a passion, deep down to your core, to be a better person to match.

And then I saw another blog posting by Le Love:

"We are just friends. Several times now, I have fallen asleep intertwined with you. Cheek to cheek, even lip to lip--just feeling your breath on my skin. We go no further. Today we went for a walk after a summer pour, and I could feel the warm steam rising from the streets. Now tonight, I sleep alone. It's probably healthy because when I'm tangled up with you I can hardly sleep at all. I spend the whole night on fire, quietly smoldering most of the time. Except when you pull me closer and rub your soft scruffle up and down my neck and chest. Or when you grab me by the hip bone and sink your thumbs into my flesh, sending electric chills up and down my body. Or when you pull me into you, sliding your fingers down my spine until they press the small of my back (chills, again). Or when your lips find the back of my neck and you mumble about how good I smell. Those are the times that the smoldering gives way to a blazing flare and all I can do is hope for a nap the next day. But not tonight. You're there and I'm here. I could never tell you this, but every night your body isn't pressed against mine, I have to pack pillows around myself just to fall asleep. But we are just friends, and I'm sure you sleep fine without me." - A

When it gets to the point when a person expresses such words of desire to just hold somebody (or be held), it moves beyond just a mere physical, or even an emotional, connection. It's a longing to feel a place of belonging, to know that you are wanted and needed, to find mutual security with someone; the closest word I can think of is intimacy, although even that fails to convey the passion.

When you're in love:

You want to be near him regardless of what either of you are doing.
Little things remind you of him.
He is the first thing on your mind when you wake.
You think he is the most amazing person you have had the privilege to know.
You want him to be happy, with or without you. And you truly mean it.
The last statement is the most difficult to swallow because it directly conflicts with the first. There are many hardships associated to unrequited love, but it is my belief that you become a stronger person because of it; you have had the profound privilege to have found one person in the world who makes you understand yourself and life more clearly while truly finding a reason to be unselfish.

I leave you with a beautiful song and video: Framing Hanley - Alone in This Bed.

Le Love never fails to touch and inspire me. A few days ago, I came across this:


While you are sleeping, you are in your most vulnerable state. To fall asleep with somebody is a sign of trust, a demonstration of intimacy, if you will. To be held, to feel secure, and to know that there is mutual trust, that is what makes it so beautiful to share a bed with somebody.

It is my belief, however, that there is something even more incredible than falling asleep in someone's arms -- it's waking up in someone's arms. It's the moment that you begin to push away the cobwebs of sleep, feel the breath of someone next to you on the back of your neck, the touch of the arms wrapped around you, and the amazing recognition that you have just spent an extraordinarily beautiful night with the person in bed with you. You smile and let out a small sigh of contentment. He wraps his arms around you tighter and pulls you in closer. This is the moment I live for. You are exactly where you are supposed to be no matter what is happening outside in the "real world." This singular moment defines perfection and happiness.

Months ago, I came across a blog that describes this extraordinary moment in detail, from a man's perspective. It's beautiful and poetic. It makes me believe that there are men in the world that cherish this as much as I do, are romantics at heart.

I can close my eyes and remember what it's like. It brings forth a wealth of emotions and tears to my eyes.

3 days after writing my post about Zachary Quinto and who do I see as I'm walking out of my gym? Of course, it's Zachary Quinto! And of course, as my luck would have it, I am sweaty and not in any sort of good form to approach him and tell him how great I think he is. Even if I knew what to say or looked semi-decent, I couldn't get my mouth to form any words. I think it was the most retarded moment of my life.

"Most people would rather be certain they're miserable than risk being happy." - Robert Anthony

I saw this quote written on a board while waiting for my nonfat White Chocolate Dream Latte from Coffee Bean. (It's heaven in a cup). It struck a chord with me immediately and I am 100% certain that it is true. My immediate thought was, "I must Twitter this and share it with the rest of the world! What an epiphany!"

What I've come to realize in the past two years of my life is that there is no reason why I can't attain my dreams. Growing up the "Asian way" meant that I put aside all of my "foolish, childish" dreams and pursued a reliable, steady, responsible lifestyle. What this translates to is going to a good college, receiving a practical degree, working a job that can provide for comfortable yet lavish spending habits, and marrying a Chinese man that makes more money than I do and can support me.

My second year in college, I chucked 25% of those expectations by dating someone *gasp* Black. I was a disappointment, an embarrassment to my parents. "What will I tell my friends," my mother would tearfully cry to me. Sorry, mom; this is nothing against you, I didn't do this to hurt you, and it's not a reflection of how I was raised. The following four years, I struggled with a need to please my parents and my own need to live my life. In truth, it made me miserable.

While there were many good times in those four years, I know, looking back, that the relationship lasted much longer than it should have. We were both unhappy. But I was stubborn... and afraid. What if this was as good as it got? What if I never found anyone else? What if I ended up alone? I was certain of one thing: I was unhappy, but it felt comfortable. I was unwilling to risk discomfort for happiness. It sounds silly now.

Two years ago, after having worked "the job that can provide for comfortable yet lavish spending habits" for two years, I came to a realization: I dreaded getting up in the morning to drag myself to work. Very clearly, I remember one morning standing at the door to get into the office. We had to use our badge on the card reader to unlock the door. As I raised my badge to unlock the door, I let out a loud sigh thinking, "Here we go again." At that very moment I knew for certain that I was miserable. I kept at it for another year. Why? I was certain that I was miserable, but again, I was afraid. What else could I do? I had no education or background in anything but technology. Where could I go? What if I didn't make enough money? What if I couldn't find another job? I didn't have the courage to leave comfort and stability for the land of what ifs. It sounds ridiculous now.

Settling on stable and comfortable despite being miserable is easier to swallow than risking it all to be happy. It's the fear of being wrong. It's the fear of the unknown. It's the fear of never making it. Standing still is truth, fact, a certainty.

It takes a tremendous amount of fortitude and resolution to be able to pursue real happiness. It requires a constant level of discomfort until reaching the desired goal. Is it worth it? In my opinion, absolutely.

Shortly after posting the quote on Twitter, I got a response back: "Are you talking about me?!"

It certainly was not directed at any one person in particular, but I want you to know that I have an immeasurable amount of respect for you and the passion that you display consistently. If anything, you risk it all. You are the reason I left certain misery for a chance at happiness.

I've found yet another talented male celebrity to obsess over. This time, it's actor Zachary Quinto.


My streak continues in finding sexiness and allure in the most incredibly talented men in the world. Quinto's character, Sylar, in NBC's hit TV show, Heroes, intrigued me. His portrayal of the legendary character, Spock, in the critically acclaimed and well-received Star Trek movie (directed by J.J. Abrams, another wildly talented man) sealed the deal. I am simply in awe.

After conferring with several girl friends, I've concluded that Quinto has an appeal based upon the roles he has taken on.

As Sylar on Heroes, he is the dark, brooding "villain" with a penchant for power any way he can get it. He's complicated and deep; his struggles with identity, self-esteem, and outward validation of self stem from his troubled upbringing and a constant feeling of being "out of place." Women love that. We have dreams of finding one of these men, fixing and nourishing them until they've magically changed into a warm, loving man. Then we can take the credit for bringing happiness and normalcy to a man that still keeps a touch of inner "bad boy."


Zachary Quinto as Sylar on NBC's Heroes
As Spock in Star Trek, Quinto plays a man struggling with identity. He battles between logic and emotion, something I personally face on a daily basis. Much of the time, Spock chooses logic, showing little to no emotion. He epitomizes the nonchalant guy who is able to land any woman at the bar by acting uninterested. Women eat that up. "Who is the mysterious guy that isn't interested in me?" While carrying himself with confidence near to arrogance, any female that lands that one has accomplished something no other woman has not: she has the one that wasn't interested in anyone else.


Zachary Quinto as Spock in Star Trek
What can I say? Women tend to be attracted to the "bad boys that will treat them like crap." As much as we talk about finding a "nice guy" who worships the ground we walk on, we wouldn't give the time of day to most of them. Ladies, I know all of you have once said in your life, "He's just too nice." Sadly, nice guys do finish last.

My favoritism for my new leading man, Zachary Quinto, however, has little to do with the personalities of the characters he takes on, but more to do with the allure of the talent it takes to play such characters. His charisma and on-screen presence are incredible, to say the least. He truly is fascinating to watch. I wait, with bated breath, to see him in another masterpiece.

As an addendum to my last entry about body image, I recently discovered that my favorite Victoria's Secret model, Alessandra Ambrosio, is 5'10" and 112 pounds. That seems crazy to me. I'm 5'4" and I aim for 115 pounds.

But here she is in yet another bathing suit that I own. Damn, she looks good.


What I do realize, though, is that in photos that haven't been touched up, she looks way too skinny. Take a look.


Not that she doesn't look good, but please, for the love of God, eat something woman! Is this really sexy... thin to the point of anorexia?

Because I'm on this proactive journey to lose weight and get in better shape, I felt it was appropriate to have a discussion about body image.

As a female living in society as we know it, I, like the many other women I know, am obsessed with what is considered to be beautiful, desirable, sexy. We all want to have long, lean legs, a firm but round butt, a flat stomach, decently-sized, perky breasts, and most recently in fashion, toned arms. Some of us just aren't born with the privilege of such genes, so we work hard to fit the mold. My question is, when does this become an unhealthy obsession? And does it really affect how others view us?

My take on it is the more we are aware of the bodies around us, the more that we are aware of ourselves (or what we lack). I am definitely my own harshest critic, my own worst enemy, if you will. I am constantly examining myself in the mirror: "Is that a new stretch mark? Is this shirt showing too many of my 'rolls'? Is the cellulite getting worse?!" What I also notice, though, is that I am also extremely critical of other women, especially if they are in the spotlight. "Did Drew Barrymore gain weight again? Did you see those pants on Jessica Simpson? Britney needs to work on that tummy area if she expects a comeback anytime soon."

Worse yet (and I hate to admit this), I judge the very average, normal women around me. While I did happen to join the trendiest gym in town where almost all of the women who work out there could be Victoria's Secret or Sports Illustrated Swimsuit models, there are still a few "normal" women who frequent the gym. While changing in the locker room, I can't help but to look around and compare. I search out the women that are in worse shape than me or just were not as "blessed" as I am and I feel better about myself. I'm completely evil and out of line, I know. But I couldn't help but look at some women and think, "Well, at least I don't have saggy breasts or loose skin or a flat butt or..." I'm ashamed of myself.

More importantly than what I think, here's the real question:

Does it make that much of a difference to men?
The obvious answer is, "Abso-fucking-lutely!" Why else would men drool over the Victoria's Secret and Sports Illustrated Swimsuit models? There's nothing sexier than a woman with a bangin' body, right, boys?

According to one guy I know, "Yes and no." The conversation went as follows:

"It's always the face that does it for me. Whenever I went to strip clubs, the dancers would always be shocked that I'd be staring at their face. It's what makes a woman interesting. Women just don't get it. Someone that is is considered to be 'in the best shape' and someone with your body, there's no difference. Here, look at this."

He pulls out an empty case of gum (Dentyne, I think, but I can't recall). I can't really demonstrate to you what he did with the gum, but I will attempt to show you essentially what he did through images.

"Imagine that this is a Victoria's Secret or Sports Illustrated Swimsuit model's body."


"Now say that this is you now."


"And say this is someone else who is in 'okay shape'."


"There's no difference between the three! If you're any of the latter 2, you're essentially the first."


[Gesturing to his glass of Jack and Coke] "It's not like you're like this glass."

"And I think it's kind of wrong for you to be complaining about it when you're clearly not overweight or in bad shape. I mean, there are people in bad shape and you are not. It's like the guy who had to give up his boat because he couldn't afford it anymore saying that he's broke to a guy who is actually broke. 'No, you're not broke, asshole. You just had to give up your boat!'"

At this point, I'm trying to figure out whether this is a general agreement among men or if it just happened to be something this particular man believed. Had I spent my life agonizing over every little pound for no reason at all? Is there really 'no difference'??

My take on it is that at the end of the day, no matter what others might think (of the same or opposite sex), as long as I still obsess in front of the mirror on different imperfections in my body that I know I can fix, I will constantly be worrying about it. The fact is, as long as I know that I can look better, than I will strive to look better.

On an ending note, an image of my favorite Victoria's Secret model, Alessandra Ambrosio, in the bathing suit I just purchased. I hope to one day have her stomach and thighs.

As promised, Danny (aka my GBF and head cheerleader), came up with a cheer for me:

T-A-M-M-Y
You're so hot you make men cry
The ones who don't are really blind
Cause you're so sexy and you're so kind
Can't you see there's no debate
You're so smart and you're so great
All the men out there relate
You're the princess they want to date
So get out there and meet some dudes
That will surely brighten your moods
A prince charming soon you'll meet
Dump that ugly old deadbeat
Goooooooo TAAMMMYYYYYYYY

Even Marshawn Lynch can do the cheer with Cal cheerleaders. Listen up for it at the opening home game! =D

I had originally written this blog post for Laugh Factory, but the owner didn't want me blogging because I "don't know anything about comedy." Well, those weren't his exact words, but it was implied. So here it is (and I think it's actually quite amusing).

*-------------------------------------------------*

About one year ago (at a similar coffee shop as the one I currently find myself), I took a long look at myself and thought:

Is this really my life?
As my fellow blogger, Bill Dawes, has previously stated, following the antics of my everyday life will likely make you slightly more satisfied with your own.

Last June, I packed my bags, quit my job as a Technical Business Analyst at a prestigious Asset Management firm in San Francisco, and moved to the glossy, glittery, glitzy city of Los Angeles. Never mind that I was born and raised in Los Angeles for the first 17 years of my life... this was a new beginning!

I quickly became drawn to all the celebrities that are so easily accessible in Los Angeles.
I took an unpaid internship at an entertainment PR firm where I had essential and meaningful responsibilities such as getting coffee, transcribing voice recorded notes, and filling gift bags to be distributed at charity events. This was hardly the type of work I felt a college educated woman, such as myself, should lower herself to doing. Again, my thoughts led to:

Is this REALLY my life?
Discouraged and nearly broke, I retreated with my tail between my legs. I took a job doing the tech work I was trained in, the very cause of my misery and sense of futility that I had suffered for the last seven years of my life. BUT, at least I still had my pride and dignity.

So here's the thing, people. Listen up. This is very important.

WHEN YOU ARE MISERABLE, YOU ARE UNHAPPY.
I learned this pearl of wisdom from a very wise sage, also known as my astrological forecast. I often wonder what might have been had I not been born a Libra. Soon after, I was "discovered", Hollywood style, at a charity event held at Laugh Factory. Subsequently, I joined the trendiest gym in town, got the "Rihanna/Posh" haircut, bought a pair of Christian Louboutin heels, had a hot one night stand with "What's-His-Name" from "That One Commercial", and injected botox into my unfashionably unplump lips... I'm kidding! I use Lip Venom to pump up my pout.

Now as I look around this cafe, I no longer see doom and gloom. Instead, I see a beautiful, anorexic Russian model ordering water with Splenda, six people working on their screenplays, a couple of self-important suits talking on their bluetooths, and a man with the words "Los Angeles" tattooed on his left bicep. I take a deep breath of the smog-filled air and I think to myself:

Now, THIS is my life.

I recently participated in an interesting conversation regarding relationships and love with Comedian/Writer/Director/"Entertainment Superstar" Neal Brennan. For those of you that don't know, he co-wrote Half Baked, co-wrote Chappelle's Show and directed The Goods: Live Hard, Sell Hard starring Jeremy Piven and Will Ferrell that will be released August 14th. Yes, that's a shameless promotion for him; now that it's taken care of, onwards to the meat of this post.

During a very slow Tuesday night performance, Neal and I sat at the back of the club chatting about Godknowswhat. For no apparent reason, our conversation drifted towards his "love life." I commented to him about the hot girl I saw him escorting a few weeks prior. "Did she have dark hair or light hair? I'm doing quite well for myself," he said. Clearly.

"Come on, Neal. I can understand wanting to go around screwing every hot girl you can get, but don't you think one day, like when you're 70, you'll just want somebody to hold your hand?"

"I'll figure something out when it gets to that point. I'll still be rich."

*rolling my eyes* "Don't you want to be in love? Feel a connection?"

"There's no such thing as unconditional love. Of COURSE there's no such thing as unconditional love. You love somebody because they do something for you, make you feel a certain way about yourself. If circumstances were to change, you wouldn't love them anymore."

"You're a cynic! Sorry, Neal. I believe in love, destiny, the stars... I'm a romantic."

"How many happy couples do you know? I don't know any! Every married couple that I know, the man is miserable and the woman is waiting for the man to not be miserable."

"I do know a happy couple - my aunt and uncle. They still go for walks on the beach, he still buys her nice gifts to make her smile, and he says that the best part of his day is coming home from work because he gets to see her again. Of course, they happen to be the only couple I know that is like this."

"Exactly. I'm not saying it doesn't exist, but they are the exception, not the rule."

(Gee, that line sounds vaguely familiar. Oh, right! From He' Just Not That Into You noting that fairy tales/romantic comedies are not the rule).

(Neal continuing) "People are like gorillas. You ever watch gorillas? The male gorillas hang out in a group over here and the female gorillas and baby gorillas hang out in a group over there. The males and females meet up to have sex and have more baby gorillas and then they go back to their respective groups. The male gorillas otherwise couldn't care less about the females or even the babies! That's what men are like."

(By now, I'm speechless and I don't have a response).

(Neal continuing) "The problem with women is that they become too attached and needy."

"Well, aren't you making it clear to them that you aren't looking for anything?"

"Of course! But they do this anyway. For example, I'm going to Vegas this week for a show. This girl I've been seeing calls me to ask me a bunch of questions about it. 'When are you going? Can I meet up with you?' No, bitch. Why? Because I'll be meeting up with some other girl!"

"Oh geez. Really, you don't ever find yourself lonely and just wanting to be with somebody?"

"Who has the time? I have about half an hour a day where I'm not working on writing, doing stand-up, or whatever. I have an insane amount of stuff recorded on my DVR that I'd rather be watching. If I were in a relationship, the girl would only be neglected because I just don't have the time. No, relationships aren't for me."

(Gee, this also sounds vaguely familiar. Oh, right. Another lame excuse from a guy who is "too focused" on his career to be in a relationship. Haven't I heard this before?)

But I decided to share some new found wisdom I garnered from having a discussion with a group of 4 guys, 3 of which are comedians. "I was recently told that the magic number is 3. The third time you sleep with a woman, she will become emotionally attached. You don't want a relationship? You don't want to break any hearts? You don't want to deal with the annoyance of a "needy female"? Keep the dalliances to 2 per woman."

Neal is silent and thinking for a second and suddenly says, "Yeah... 3 sounds about right!"

Have I imparted forbidden knowledge to the devil? I'm sure he would have eventually figured it out for himself. At least I've prevented some broken hearts, right?

Even though I disagree with Neal, I still find him highly entertaining and incredibly fun to be around. Besides, he told me that he thinks I'll be an "exception." "Oh, Tammy. I don't mean YOU. You'll definitely find love." Even I didn't believe him.

One more shameless promotion for him. Please go see Neal Brennan's directorial debut: "The Goods: Live Hard, Sell Hard" in theaters August 14th.

The very talented, very funny W. Kamau Bell is featured in SF Weekly! He's effin' hilarious and San Francisco is lucky to have him grace its stages.


Also check out his website.

"One more thing, don't ever forget that you are wonderful and deserve the best and if someone can't see that, don't waste your time. Keep it moving."

The last line in an email to me from an extraordinary person, comedian, and friend.

I sometimes forget about how the important people in my life view me and spend too much time focusing on what strangers think of me. I cast it aside because I think that my friends are "obligated" to say nice things about me because we are close. In reality, we are close because they actually believe those nice things about me.

So, thank you, for everyone that sees the good in me.

Last night, I went to hang out at Laugh Factory, only because I had nothing else to do. Well, let's be honest here. I really went because I wanted to see Godfrey, who was on the scheduled lineup. So I put on a sweater dress, leggings, and my fuck me boots. Come on, ladies, you know you have a pair in the closet as well.

In any case, Godfrey didn't end up making it to the show, but I did have an interesting encounter with another comedian, Bill Dawes. Upon seeing me, he says, "Tammy, you are one sexy bitch." Quickly followed by, "Well, I don't know about the bitch part... But you have a good sense of fashion."

Here's my question: Does a female need to be a bitch to be considered sexy? How did the phrase "sexy bitch" come to be the default as opposed to say, "Girl, you're sexy." Why must it be, "Girl, you're a sexy bitch"?

All over pop culture, the term "sexy", when referring to a woman, is also followed by the word "bitch". Let's look at the definition in Urban Dictionary:

Sexy bitch
Strong, independent, sexy, attractive woman who knows what she wants and how to get it.
Used by men, 'Sexy bitch' is not a derogatory term. A man who uses it is admitting that he is sexually attracted but probably not good enough for her; that he would feel vulnerable in her presence because he won't be able to control her. So there may be a tinge of resentment, especially when used by a woman to describe another because she cannot compete.

And we all know that men are attracted to bitches. So which is the qualifier? If you are a bitch, does that automatically make you sexy? Or is it if you are sexy, are you, therefore, a bitch?

Regardless, I didn't take offense to it, but that may be because I find Bill cute.

Today, I did something completely out of character and wildly astounding: I went to see a movie, at a theater, BY MYSELF. Shocking, isn't it?

A few months ago, I decided that if I was really going to do the "single" thing and be the independent woman I struggle to be, then I needed to suck it up and be able to go to the theater alone. For months, I've been putting it off with one excuse or another. But no more! This morning, I ventured into the unknown.

The result? I LOVED IT.

Granted, I did go see the first showing of Duplicity (Julia Roberts, Clive Owen) at 10:15am to the overwhelming crowd in the theater of three people, so there was very little embarrassment on my part involved. And since I had no intention of impressing anyone in the early hours of a sleepy Easter Sunday morning, I went in lounge pants and glasses. The best part, matinee priced tickets at $6! You've read that correctly - $6! You really can't beat that.

I've decided to make a routine out of it. Every Sunday morning (movies currently playing permitted), I will venture out to the local cinema and partake in the first showing of a movie... ALONE. I highly recommend it.

I met up with Cindy at Coffee Bean on Sunday afternoon. While we sat around discussing my love life (or lack thereof), the guy at the table next to us approaches us about joining his church. See how it all goes down via XtraNormal.

"I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do." - Romans 7:15

Does this mean that you don't know what it is that you want or is it simple conflict between heart and mind?

One of the things that I miss most about San Francisco is people watching on a random weekday afternoon. Even though I worked in the Financial District, there were all sorts of people walking about on a typical afternoon. There certainly never lacked a certain number of "crazies." There was always someone or something interesting happening.

Here in LA, I seem to see only the stereotypes hanging out in the cafes on a normal afternoon. Let's take the Coffee Bean next to my office as an example. I went in today for a late afternoon coffee break and decided to sit for a spell, admiring the clear, beautiful day. When I looked around, I saw five people working on screenplays on their laptops, three beautiful women with mini dogs in their lap/bags, two surfer guys, and a few agent/manager types in suits. To top it all off, a model in work out gear goes into the cafe, orders a water, proceeds to add a pack of Splenda to the water, and continues on her run. She looked like she hadn't eaten in months. Despite that, she was gorgeous, not unlike half the women sitting around the cafe.

I proceeded to observe as one of the agent/manager suits got into an argument with one of the laptop screenwriters

"You took our table! Didn't you see this woman's mini dog leashed to this table? We were saving it!"

"Fuck off. There's a table over there."

"You're a rude asshole. Go to hell."

"And you're a fat prick."

"Look who's talking."

"Look at you - you look like you'll explode any minute."

And so it went on for another five minutes. Then I watched as the beautiful womens' dogs decided to play with each other while the men in the cafe were mesmerized by the beautiful womens' laughter at the dogs' antics.

Then I had to leave because I couldn't handle it. It was just too much.

Yesterday, I was told by my mother that at 25, I am too old to be out late every night having fun. It is time that I settle down and find a "reliable man" to share my life with; it is time that I stop chasing "cute boys" because I am too old to be playing those games. She said that I should lower my standards, trash those silly romantic notions, and just find a man who can support me financially because I shouldn't and COULDN'T do it alone.

I related this to my recent trip to the movies with some girlfriends. We went to see what we all deem to be a "chick flick": Bride Wars. To no surprise, the theater was overflowing with groups of women gathering together to watch this film on opening night, even selling out at several showings. Amongst the women, I heard an endless amount of gossiping, giggling, and "girl talk," mostly consisting of, "Who needs men anyway, girls?!" To this, I silently nodded and agreed, "I don't need a man!" Somewhere towards the end of the movie, I realized I was surrounded by females dabbing at the corner of their eyes, some even had tears streaming down their faces. What is it about these silly romantic comedies that get to the fairer sex? I will admit to having cried during many of these types of films; yeah, I'm a sucker.

I walked out of the theater that night feeling more hopeless than ever. "Will I ever find that 'happily ever after'?" This night of supposed female empowerment turned quite the opposite. What was to be expected? We went to see a romantic comedy about weddings. Who in their right minds would believe that this night to the movies would make for a great single girls' night out? If anything, it only serves to highlight the things you secretly desire the most yet could not even hope to have because it goes against the institution of "Girl Power." I am an independent woman; I don't need romance, a man, or a wedding! I scoff at those females who need a man to complete their lives! Oh, please.

I am really as independent as they get. I don't need that "reliable man" to provide for me as my mother so aptly puts it. It's taken me quite a long time to realize and envision such things, but I am finally able to see my life without a man. I actually do believe that I can be quite content and comfortable with a life on my own, seeing to my own needs and desires. But I want MORE. I want to wake up next to a man every morning and know that I could be fine on my own, but feel a depth of love for him that makes me more than "just fine"... it completes me.

Inspiration.

It's the sun rising in the East.
It's the sun setting in the West.

It's the morning dew on a blade of grass.
It's the crisp evening chill against your face.

It's the one that "got away."
It's the one you wake up with in the morning.

It's the aroma of coffee roasting when you wake.
It's the warmth of a blanket around you while you sleep.

It's everything you are.
It's everything you are not.