Georgia Wine Highway Weekend

My weekend was lovely. Absolutely fabulous. 

Why, you ask? Well...I went up to Dahlonega, Georgia for the Winter wine highway weekend tour with some fellow wine enthusiasts. It was a lot of fun, a lot of drinking (a heck of a whole lot of drinking!), food and laughter (possibly brought on by the drinking), but good clean fun. Whenever you have good wine (well, so so wine for Georgia but still copious amounts of it) fellow wine lovers, you're sure to find people who love fine food, are intellectually advanced, well traveled and very diverse; it makes for stimulating often refreshing conversation. Even if it means just sitting around discussing the wine you had, it's an enlightened time. It was awesome. I stayed over in Dahlonega for the night, slept in this morning, continued the wine tasting adventure today, explored a little bit of Dahlonega. Totally rad. Couldn't have asked for a better time. 

I also bumped into a few singletons, some ladies who drove up for the wine tour themselves. I felt encouraged. I thought, very soon, us singletons will take over. 

You'll see. 

Montaluce Winery - Brunch on Sunday Morning

The entrance to Montaluce's Winery. Look at those doors!

Restaurant at Montaluce

Love this table. My brunch

Wine Tasting at Montaluce. Nice set up!

Nice staff at Montaluce

Dahlonega Town Center

Grapes, defines any wine country

So a few months went by...

So a few months went by and nothing much happened. A whole lot of travelling which I am thankful for. Some of them on my dime and some on someone else's, but it put some pep in my step. Nothing much else happened. Something concrete like a new job offer or a new man, or to be in talks with either one, be in talks with a new company on a new job or a new man on a new relationship. None of that. Just a lot of money and mileage spent and not a whole lot accomplished. 

I had a shuddering thought yesterday. I am, to my utter dismay, going to spend another Christmas without that tingling feeling of having made any accomplishments. I am devoid of the sensation that makes you happy to see the holidays and you embrace it knowing, you are in talks for a new job or a new relationship. It just sort of crushed me and I keep thinking, how distraight will I be to head into this New Year with this uncertainty, without making any head way into accomplishing my goals. Pffttt...

So that ths is not all somber, let's summarize the trips. 

I went to California again, at the start of October in talks with a company for a job. That's as close as I've gotten in my callbacks. Several written tests, video interviews and in person interviews later, still no offer. They actually are dodging my phone calls now. 

Then, to round off a very disappointing month, which I thought would be rather interesting considering I travelled to the West Coast at the start of it, to round off the month, I went to New York. This time on my dime. To finish off my back piece, hopefully see a Broadway musical (this was to no avail) and visit a friend in Brooklyn (had to do this instead of the play which was not a wise choice). Trip was too short, weather was too cold, New York was the same but better, every time I see it, it never seems old. It's like an old black and white classic rolled into a box.  Now I know why some of the greatest movies were written by people based in New York, Woody Allen, Spike Lee, Martin Scorsese. It inspires great art, just being in that space and you already feel inspired. Talk to any non-artist and they will beg to differ, hacking away at how difficult life is in New York. But a true artist knows what I am talking about.

Then, I go to Houston for Thanksgiving.

Not as many trips as I had initially thought but the West Coast-East Coast jaunt took their toll on me.

New York Tat Adventure ...Part 2

Got off plane. What to do? Go to JFK to drop off bag or go to the city. Undecided. Wasted about an hour trying to decide. How do I log this bag all the way to the Lower East Side? Finally decided. Going into the city, with bag, don't care, I'll deal with it when I get there. 

Took a bus to Grand Central Terminal. Found a good breakfast place. Starved. Can you believe I haven't had breakfast? Had breakfast at Pershing Square.  They serve coffee in this cute little delicate teacups. Made me want to go home and dig up mine. So cute. Makes the coffee taste better. True story. After 4 cups, felt so much better. Wheeled bag around, ready to start adventure. Oh, look, there's Grand Central Terminal. Must take a picture. Took so many but pictures not very good, but they will do.

Walked around a little more but no much traction, bag is heavy. Very heavy. Security guard smiles at me in office building on Fifth Avenue. I smile back. Why not ask him to take care of my bag? It's crazy I know, but it's worth a shot. What are you going to do, lug this all the way to LES? So I do, and he obliges as long as I keep on smiling, and get back on time before his shift ends.

I take risks I know. But if he's trustworthy enough to secure a whole building, then my bag shouldn't be that much of an enticement. "Hey, there can you watch my bag. Thanks. Here's my number. I will be back this evening to pick it up. Thank you." And there it was... that simple. People can actually be nice. Color me amazed.

The walk begins.

Lower East Side

Ludlow Street, LES

Pinups and Pimps

Listened to this intersection - corner of Ludlow and Orchard

 Breathtaking Times Square scene of stragglers. No matter how many times I see it, never gets old.

Dream Destination

There it is!
Amanda Wachob piece just underneath my camera
Five flowers and some branches

My New York trip in pictures.

Union Square. Lower East Side. Pimps and Pinups. Corner of Ludlow and Orchard. The Bisous Ciao shop. An entire store dedicated to, of all things, Macaroons. Me sitting on a stoop waiting on my appointment. Shoes hurt. Rested. Wait, why is there a bench in front of a store, on the street?! Is it weird that I'm sitting here? People pass. No one seems to think so. Ohh, listened to the street. Cat calls, inconsistent car horns, trucks beep as they back up, steam coming from the sewer (?), folks yelling at each other from their bedroom windows, very earthy neighborhood. This is what America feels like.

Then, the Setai. I remember walking past this place and thinking, one day I am going to afford to stay in a nice place like this here. So I took a picture to remind myself of when I sent that wish up into the atmosphere.

Finally, the reason for the trip - An Amanda Wachob addition to my back piece. Six months wait list, several hundred miles and an early morning plane flight later, I got the piece done in about 3 hours. It was well worth the trip to New York to get some new ink.

Traveling especially solo puts you in touch with yourself, with how you feel, with what you want to feel, what it feels like to be alive and alert enough to listen to the sights and sounds around you, it helps you connect with your other self, your inner self, with the self that wants to open up themselves to adventure.

It's an amazing indescribable feeling which I hope I've described with pictures. 

New York Tat Adventure ...Part 1

High rise magnificence - what NYC is known for

What say ye about Bucket Lists?

I never thought I’d make it but by jove I did. On time as well! Months later, I am finally here.

Sometimes, when life gets boring, you gotta do something to give it a little jolt, that little vigor that lets you know you are still alive and well, you still have some more fire in you. And here I am and that brings me to today’s story.

Back in February, March or some awkward month, I booked an appointment to get tatted by the “Amanda Wachob.” She is so good that she gets booked so far in advance. When she told me how far ahead my appointment would be, I thought, that’s fine, it will give me time to plan a trip to New York, make an adventure out of it - a little solo trip. I'll go see a Broadway play, enjoy some fine dining, do a little shopping, it would be great. During the course of the year, other trips came up and got me sidetracked. The impromptu trip to San Fran in April, then the LA trip in June. I just knew I wouldn’t be able to get up and go again in July. So I moved it from July and this time she was down to October appointments. An October appointment set in June? Seems like an impossible task. Who plans that far ahead? How does she get so good that she is booked for months in advance? Regardless of the answers to these questions, I still made the appointment. Why not?

Sometime in July, I seriously doubted the possibility of meeting that appointment. I even tried to give it away just so long as I could get my deposit back. But there were no takers; the only taker actually didn’t want to pay me the deposit money. So what, I’ll just give you the appointment that took me time and money to make?

Then, August rolled around and I was pissed off at work. Go figure for the second time this year, I’ve booked a trip around the fact that I was pissed with work. Being pissed caused me to just say, okay then, it’s time to make good on this plan to go spend Halloween in New York. Besides, who wouldn’t want to spend Halloween night in the Big Apple? And with two clicks of a button, the tickets were booked.

I had considered coming in with the first flight that morning into New York, go in for my appointment and then, take the last flight back to Atlanta. But then, I thought I would miss out on the whole change of environment thing. How can you resist spending at least one night in an amazing place such as New York? Who does that? This is not Milwaukee, it’s the Big Apple. Just imagine how amazing it would be with all the crazies in costume?

As time rolled around I just thought: Will I actually do this? I just might.

Hotel in Jamaica actually had comfy sheets

Finding suitable accommodation was a hassle. It’s New York after all and housing is such an exhaustible commodity. I almost got swindled by some accommodation ads on Craigslist – stay in my Upper West Side Apartment for $60 a night but pay me in advance via Western Union. Cute. Do I really sound that naïve?

In the end (due to serious budgetary constraints), I chose some airport hotel in Jamaica. A part of town I have often heard of but never been. Who says New York always has to be about Manhattan, there’s the “other” New York that everyone ignores?

The time was slowly approaching and then I started to have those little nervous butterflies. I thought something would come take this from me, that work issues would stick a fork in it, that I would forget something, and that something would go wrong. I was actually kind of nervous. I kept telling myself, why are you nervous? You’ve done so many trips by yourself, about 4 this year alone, I can do this.

The stage was set ready for me to make it there. The final touches to my plan had been laid, I made arrangements for my car, cleaned my house, everything was slowly in place for me to leave crack of dawn Saturday morning. 

By the time I went through airport security and got to the gate at the airport, the passengers had already boarded. There I was sipping coffee thinking, "Okay, there’s no one here. I made it here with time to chill." Little did I know that there was no one there because they had all boarded the plane. Silly me. Flight was a breeze. I packed light so I could wheel my bag with ease. With no delays, we were ready to go, I had the entire 3 seats to myself, I stretched out and cuddled up to catch up on my sleep and by the time I woke up... we were in the Big Apple. Not a bad way to start the weekend, aye?

It is rather an astounding feeling to say, yes, I am going to spend the weekend in New York. You have a sense of power, not a lot, but just enough to make you smirk inside. You are just elated. Maybe I am exaggerating because this is my first time embarking on such an adventure. Or my first time prompted by such a silly thing as a tattoo. I did it 4 years ago in December to see New York Christmas lights; I went up with my sister to spend the weekend. We left very late on Friday and came in Monday afternoon. It was a nice trip that was marred by poor planning and exceptionally cold weather. The city lights at Christmas are great but I don’t know, something was off. That trip was bittersweet. This time around I was solo and quite prepared to do the adventuring by myself. It was an indescribable sense of freedom, like dumping the boyfriend you should never have had for so long and just releasing yourself from his shackles. It was like saying goodbye to all those boring weekends holed up in my apartment and finally doing something, experiencing something during my weekend. 

Times Square stragglers

This New York Tat Adventure continues...

New York state of mind

And so it is, where have I been?

I've been in New York. I spent Halloween weekend in New York. Feels so so good to say that. I had a pretty nice, no, awesome, fabulously delightful experience. Could have been better if I didn't have to pretend work, but what can I say, it pays the bills.

More to come.

Me arriving...what do I do, where do I keep my bags?

Oh ye vey, me arriving in the Big Apple, Grand Central Terminal, my very first time seeing this, can you believe I've never been to Grand Central?....had breakfast at Pershing Square! I had Saturday breakfast at Pershing Square...that is just too awesome I had to say it twice. Last week Saturday I had leftovers for Brunch, this Saturday I'm eating with some New Yorker tourists. Like some high fancy rich girl, "weekending" in New York? How wickedly awesome is that?

Grand Central's Architectural Splendor

Read on for the deets on my New York Tat Adventure:
Part 1
Part 2

On the last day of summer, my true love said...meet the day.

On the last sunny day in Atlanta, the last sunshiny day, I decided to leave the comfort of my home and take a long walk to enjoy the last of the 90 degree days. And I had a great time.

Midtown was having one of those festivals, midtown market days, the very first of its kind where they closed off Peachtree Street and let street vendors, artists, food vendors, musicians and whatnot peddle their wares and invite us all to partake of the day in their wonderful company. It was one of those days that make you happy that you live in the city. It was good just to stop and look around, and not have to avoid cars running over you, blaring horns, city noise and just take in the sun and the scenery. There was good art, bad art, creative art, art so much in favor of Atlanta you'd think it was "Atlanta-commissioned," and then, food especially of the greasy kind, along with some beer and wine.

It was so well-organized, so structured that you could tell it was a hard thing for them to do - to just let go and let the crowd feel the day out. There wasn't that much music, not much food going on except for the neighboring restaurants, and not much in the way of entertainment. No spontaneity, no hair out of place, no organized chaos. In other words, this was no New York festival. Hopefully, by the time they get to the 3rd year, they would get the hang of it, Atlanta would get the hang of it and become a more pedestrian friendly city with cultural activities strewn on the streets, giving people an opportunity to express themselves openly. But judging from that festival, it's coming along slowly.

I didn't write about it because there was nothing really to write about. It was so structured that it felt like a nice, neat bun on your head. Well, here are the items to write about, itemized.

1. It felt good to do a walk through a street market in the same city I live in as opposed to doing it on vacation, in maybe New York, or San Fran, etc. That was a nice treat to meet the day. 

2. The weather was warm and crisp, perfect weather for exploring. Last of the warm and crispy days.

3. Stopped for fish tacos and margaritas at Tin Lizzy's and guess who walks in, Robin Givens, to partake of some fish tacos and margaritas as well. Hmmm....eventful.

4. My server at Tin Lizzy's ...Jess(?)...had so much zest, very high up there with personality. She actually stopped, sat down to chat, asked me what my plans were for the evening. Did not act weird at all that I was there by myself. I had so much fun with her. I would go there again just to see her. If you go there, ask for Jess with the glasses.

5. Ended up joining a couple of guys seated across from my table and we talked about the "dating scene." And I generally explained to them my theory on what is wrong with Atlanta men. Long story. The type of chat you can only engage in when you've had one too many.

6. Stopped in front of the Arts Center and sat on the stairs taking in the sights of the evening. It was nice to sit there and just meet the evening, breathe in the night air, soak in their energy, all the buzz, the excited people, the lights, and the hum of the city. Some teenagers asked me to join them and then we talked about ...nothing.

7. Joined the crowd at the Arts Center having a rave in their courtyard as part of the Midtown celebration. Danced till the wee hours with this crazy punk-rock band. It felt like some type of Woodstock fest: brightly painted people, artists on stilts, trapeze dancers, randomly thrown confetti balls. I kept asking myself, "Is this Atlanta?" Didn't know they had it in them.

Went home with a smile on my face. The next day it rained horrendously. The summer was over. 

Street Fashion and its admirers...

I spent an interesting evening at an Art Exhibit Opening on Friday Night- The Sartorialist.

Apparently, this artist/photographer is quite popular, more so among the Savannah College of Art (SCAD) students where he had accumulated quite a following. I only just heard about it briefly on some events site and I thought, it would make a nice change of pace from the usual Friday night out to go to an art exhibit, especially of photographs and not abstract art which I despise. I was slightly looking forward to it more after I looked at some of the photos on his blog.

The enthusiasm didn't die when I got there. The place was packed, with guests spilling out everywhere. It was a fabulous event. There was everything you could ask for in a superbly planned event. The exhibit opened at the Hagedorn Gallery which is in a nice end of the Peachtree Hills area. It has ample parking space and a parking lot that's just calling for a block party. There were more people in there than could actually fit into the gallery so people just spilled out onto the parking lot. I guess the artist had no idea how much of a following he had garnered as well. There were two tables set up for my favorite part - free drinks, white wine and white wine, as the hostess jokingly remarked.

Being that this was an art opening of a noted fashion photographer attended by every art student in Atlanta, people were dressed ready to be photographed. This wasn't your average, let's-look-nice-just-because, it was more like, let's-look-as-quirky-and-as-high-fashion-fabulous-as-possible. Everyone had a little kink to them. It was more of the beatnik crowd: pierced, multi-colored hair, big hair, visible tattoos and high fashion thrifty clothes. I was thoroughly amused by it all. I was normal. So normal because I came straight from work.

There was the longest ass line ever to get photographed with the artist, and when I walked past him he was the smallest amazing looking man. His photos, which were no different from the ones posted online, were the same in person as they were online. Great personality but not so much. I can see the fascination, and I appreciate it but I am not fascinated by it. I wouldn't immediately think, "Oh I have to add this to my collection." I kept wondering, "Did he get these people to dress this good or was it a fluke?" Was he just walking by the streets of Paris or New York with his camera in his hand and oops, all of a sudden, there goes some person with a high fashion outfit, an "outfit with attitude" that's just begging to be photographed and good photo op just came about. Did he get them to sign waivers to use their images for commercial purposes? Or did he actually pay them? I wondered how that worked. He'd be hard pressed if he was located in Atlanta, he'd be in a dire situation looking for muses. Just saying.

See the thoughts that go through your head when you ride solo. Just marvelous thoughts.  

All in all, it was a good time.

Why We Travel Solo?

Why we travel...sometimes solo?

I think for me it's a few things.

The sense of adventure that always seems to occur every time I travel, from the airport to arrival at the hotel destination. It's a steady stream of chance events where you pray that the travel gods will shine upon you and grant you not only a safe trip but an adventurous one.

Then there's the discovery of a new place and a new type of life. The people however they may be, you tap into their local culture and feel the vibe of the new city. The locals always seem so eager to answer your questions, to show you around, let you discover their wonderful city, the innocence and sincerity with which they answer your questions (except maybe if your in New York, but I've had no complaints there either).

Most importantly, the peace of mind I feel once I arrive and explore the new environs. It always reassures me that I made a good decision, that all the money (a lot more if you're traveling solo and not on a company expense card), time spent planning and sacrifices made were worth it, that the reward of experiencing a new city was worth the headache.

For weeks after I return I nurse this permanent smile on my face and feel like nothing else can compare, nothing comes remotely close to the fun, the adventure, the pleasant strangers, the fantastic food, picturesque scenes, misadventures, empty pockets, nothing at all beats it and to be perfectly honest with you nothing else has.

I travel solo because nothing else lets me relish in these adventures except if I am by myself. Nothing else lets me take in the sights, the stupid scenic pictures, the missed wake up calls, the offtrack outings, the sudden need to stop and have a drink at the closest bar just when my feet start to hurt, the willingness to seem unfettered and open to anything and everything, nothing else allows me to explore my inner child wonderment except if I'm by myself. And I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Doing a lot of reading

I've been doing a lot of reading, or trying to anyway. 

Someone gave me a test and I failed. I just stared at it without a clue how to answer it, without a clue of how to even start to answer it, and this is after I did do some reading. I guess I am not as smart as I thought I was. Or not smart enough to play with the big dogs. I just hate it when my stupidity gets the better of me. Since then, I've been so conscious of my work, my speech, my grammar, and my writing. How do I improve that? I have to be able to play with the big dogs, to know that I can, and to trust that if it came to that I can hold my own. I was just flummoxed by that test. I haven't felt that helpless since my International Tax Law exam and even that I managed to pull together some answers and they appeared to be the right answers, some of them anyway. Hopefully, the answers I gave this time happen to be correct.

Solo Dinners and everything else

I've been away.

Though, it's not intentional. I have been going out, in small groups, or accompanied by friends so I really had nothing to report on the solo front.

I've also been doing a lot of solo dinners. Every Saturday, out of a dearth of what to do to occupy my evening, I think what else can I do? I don't feel like going clubbing, and I would hate to stay home yet again - my DVD player is overheated - the only thought that immediately comes to mind is, "Let's go to dinner in a nice restaurant." After that anything else can happen. I also got a few restaurant coupons in the mail (why wouldn't I when I patronize them so much?) which I aim to use to cut down costs. A girl has to stay cost-savvy in some way. 

These dinners have been okay. There haven't been too many of them that have yielded accurate results for me to advice my other singles that this is the perfect thing to do on a Saturday night. It's a hit or miss thing. Dinners mainly work for me because I am a big Foodie. If the company is not great, at least the food will be and hopefully, make up for my horrid cooking. So I am very careful in choosing the restaurant. I also choose the restaurant based on the type of events that occur there. Do they have live music? Do they have attentive wait staff? Do they have ample seating at the bar? Is it a "hot" spot for singles, i.e., active bar scene? All very important questions that should be tackled. Or mainly, is the food just so melt in your mouth divine that the absence or presence of any of these factors doesn't really matter?

Most nights, if you're lucky you get to sit with another single diner (of the friendly kind) and you chat up a conversation about the food, types of food you enjoy, places you enjoy eating, being seen, etc. This is on a good night. You end up not eating alone but inevitably eating with company which beats sitting in front of the TV  and mumbling to yourself (or is that just me).

This used to be the case before the economy happened and the rest of the population decided to either indulge in take-home dinners or get coupled up as a cost-effective means of dating. Because this has become a rare occurrence, eating alone takes a whole lot of gumption. A whole lot. It's almost near impossible and gives you a very uncomfortable feeling. I find it hard to do sometimes and I am supposed to be the solo savvy one. People stare at you and wonder, "Why is she eating by herself?" The servers carefully avoid you, just offer you more food or drink and walk away. You can virtually hear other diners talking about you. The stage is set and you're the solo performer. Very uncomfortable.

At this point, you wish anyone would come in and chat you up just so it shifts the focus away from you. My advice to counteract this is simply talk to anyone. Anyone, any fly that just brushes past you, talk to them, about anything on this earth. If they stare at your food, ask them a question, "Have you ordered?" "Your drink looks yummy, what is that?" The couple next to you, speak to them, "Oh, wow, the music is so loud." Say Anything At All. Otherwise, you're in for a very long evening.

And after you've survived the dinner, (thank God!) then, you can decide what to do next because face it you just endured a meal alone, anything else can be easily conquered. It will. For me, I usually go dancing, to work off some of the food. Somewhere that lets me walk around, move around and does not put me on center stage. Whatever I decide I know that it cannot be as bad (or as good depending on how dinner went) as dinner alone. Dinner alone just gave me wings that I plan to use.    

The 46th year, I didn't forget

This is the first year in awhile I haven't done my Keanu tribute piece on his birthday. I was just so out of it today and couldn't compose myself long enough to want to put anything down. I also didn't remember as soon as I woke up, which I usually do. I remembered when I got to work and started writing the date down, I thought, oh, gee look what date it is? Then, it occurred to me.

So to Keanu on his 46th year: To all the love, laughter and peace that life can muster and to the quiet moments in between, to the few turbulent times we face, and to the calm to deal with those times. To the One, you will always be my muse and I, the one you may never meet.

Why We Travel...for the memories!

I've been thinking a lot about my vacations from earlier this year.

My first trip to San Francisco in April, which was so spur of the moment, was such a  heavenly experience. I enjoyed gallivanting on my own, the fact that the hotels I booked turned out to be great. I remember the food, some of them I just happened to bump into and they ended up great, like Bristol Farms deli and the House of Donuts with the amazing sweets and my discovery of my new favorite beer, Leffe.

I remember the afternoon, Day 2 to be exact when I went to add to my back tattoo at One Shot Tattoo. The sun was shining, it was a much warmer day than usual, I was on my tattoo high, my artist, Nakona was great (shame he doesn't work in that Tattoo shop anymore) and the look of the tattoo was just awesome. No need for regrets here, everything was great. I remember walking to Golden Gate Bridge, seeing the bridge and being almost moved to tears. Good day.

I also remember Day 4, Friday spending the day walking in the unusual heat to the curvy street on Lombard, stopping to imbibe in some wine-tasting at Fisherman's Wharf and being treated to a free sample of assorted wines just because the wine shop was about to toss them out. How many times does that happen? It just seemed like things were in place, the stars were aligned and my life felt much much better.

I remember the hilarity of the trip to Napa, the wine tasting tour. I had red eyes from allergies but no one seemed to notice, care or feel the need to call attention to it. I was solo but no one seemed concerned about that too. I remember the crazy foreign girls in my bus, one from Brazil was dressed to the nines, high heels and all as if we were off to a wedding. They hijacked the leftover wine bottle and treated the rest of us to it (instead of having winery pour it out - they termed it an "Open Bar") They were just a fun bunch. I remember the lunch at Bottega. Very nice restaurant, fine dining with the longest wine list I've ever seen and I choose to drink wine. I remember the nice chat with the 2 gentlemen at the bar who were celebrating one's birthday. It just felt so distinguished to be in a place that indulges in good food and good wine and being able to share it with fellow foodies. No fuss, no foul, let's just sit, eat and drink. It was an experience.

I remember the trip from there to L.A. Seeing Common at the airport, going through security with him, he was on my Virgin America flight to LA, seated at First Class no doubt. I remember getting to LA and not knowing what to expect, of my hotel, of the place, of everything. But it exceeded my expectations. The air was just lifted off me and I could exhale. It was open and airy and breezy and brighter like a cleaner, fresher existence. SF was muggy and dark, if it was a movie it would have been shot in greys and dark hues but LA would be shot with primary colors no less, lots of oranges and yellows. 

I remember my stay in my hotel room at the Custom Hotel that first day sick from allergies. I walked over to Bristol Farms and got some cooked food and a bottle of champagne (wish I could remember what type of Brut it was) even though I was sick. I was heckled at the counter for thinking you couldn't buy alcohol on Sunday but relieved that I could. I needed that drink! I cozied up to my very exquisite hotel room and downed the food and the wine. It felt so good. I missed out on one extra day of exploring the sights but kicking back that day was refreshing as well. I still remember how good I felt. 

I remember spending the next day in Venice Beach, seeing all the beatniks, hippie, sun-loving freeloaders. Now, that I think about it with all the work pressures I now understand why they choose to live like that and say a big "To Hell, with society."

I remember the sadness that overcame me when it came time for me to leave. Even though I was scheduled to be back there in 8 weeks I was just so sad. It was like loosing a good friend, a kindred spirit I had come to meet and instantly grow fond of. It was just sad.

Then, there was the second trip. Packed full with activities and so much to do, the week was not enough. I remember walking out of my hotel room (which was crappy) in Santa Barbara and taking this picture. This was one of the best pictures from that trip. I saw this car and immediately knew that I had to take this picture. That it would be indicative of my trip, a symbolic representation of me bing in a city by the beach. SB was muggy and foggy but had so much potential. It was like this little beach city nestled in front of the beach. The long scenic ride to LA from Santa Barbara. The scary ride to Santa Ynez from SB. Trips that I long to take now every time I drive through the city.

What I remember most of all the second time around with my family: Eating dinner in this little hole in the wall Italian restaurant that had no corkage fee but great Italian food, large portions. We saw everyone come in with their bottle of wine and figured we'd do the same. Enjoyed our food with some unlimited red wine courtesy of us. Only in LA.

Lastly, I remember the last day, walking through Manhattan Beach and eating lunch at this Fish Tacos place, spent the Friday drinking beers and eating these great tasting Fish Tacos. What could be better than that? That was just an exhilirating experience...like releasing stress, exhaling life in the best way possible, just sheer bliss. Like a taste of life when it's... good!

I think about that every Friday, every down time, when I'm sad, every time I feel the escapist in me long to escape, I think about that...that's why I'm thinking about that today.

Laissez-Faire attitude

For as long as I've known myself, I've always had a laissez-faire attitude towards work. It is work after all and I don't take it seriously. I don't know what that says about me. I am constantly stuck in this escapist mode of "This is not where I want to be and I don't want to be in here." And I am always, always trying to run away from "it." I cannot understand it. Maybe because I never end up in a place where "it" is great, you know. It is always some hum drum place that doesn't meet my imagination of where my future is, like the grass is always greener attitude. Get me to where the grass is greener because I don't like this place.

I've been drawn to the Bohemian, beatnik, hippie-esque lifestyle. Maybe the modern day life, with a husband, two kids, surburban house, picket fence and gas guzzling SUV isn't for me. It's not for everybody. Maybe that's what I am trying to find. A place where the rules are lax and self-expression is welcomed. Only I don't know where that place is. And I am constantly in search of it. Don't you think I would have found it by now, at this age...How can I convince myself to accept (and be content with) the present (as if it's the best there is)?

I've spent the last four days telling everyone that I am relocating. Everyone. My tattooist, my hairdresser, my co-worker, my neighbor, I mean everyone. This is unlike me because I don't like to share my plans with anyone until they are finalized. I have a weird feeling that it jinxs the future plans. Whatever plans they may be? Maybe I am trying to make a promise to myself that this is it, and you must carry this out no matter what unless you might have to face the shame of telling all these people why you didn't leave? When they see you here this time next year, if they ask you, "So are you still in Atlanta, I thought you were leaving?" I would be too ashamed to respond. Whatever reason it is...I promise this day not to discuss this with anyone anymore. I've told the last person that I need to and I have made up my mind to direct my efforts into making this work or just keeping my mouth shut.

dismal summer outlook

So far, it's been a very boring summer. Asides from my vacation trip to California for my birthday, the summer has been very boring, lacklustre and just generally dismal. Poor ratings all around. I haven't had a dismal summer in awhile, and it's so disappointing considering how wonderfully the summer started. All the fun just went away as soon as I touched down in Atlanta. What else is new? Perhaps it's life's way of telling me there really is nothign for me here, so hurry up and get your shit and get out.

In the last week alone, list of horrible things.

1. I was blatantly denied a promotion. Some chic who went to some local community college is going to be my "team leader." How insulting. You attend the best schools and study law so much that you can quote Lord Denning and an ass kissing chic is going to be your manager. Only in Atlanta will that happen.

2. ON Friday I took a half day vacation to go finish up my leg iece. I actually pulled money from my savings to do this. Which was very ill-advised considering I need to be saving my cash for my move. But I thought the new ink would cheer me up. I left work super early and was so excited. So excited. I am rarely excited for anything but this time I was. I had a nice lunch, got a pedicure and was ready to add some color to my koi fish leg piece. He just fucked it up. Either he was in a hurry or he wasn't felling inspired enough, I don't know. But he just fucked it up totally. He could tell I as disappointed and told me, Oh, come back and we'll touch it up. Why don't we fix it now? Why do they make you come back? I've never understood that. So that just crushed my weekend. The one thing that could have cheered me up, psst, gone out the window.

3. Spend the rest of the weekend getting my hair done. Something told me that there's a distinct possibility my hair wouldn't turn out okay. Since I hadn't been lucky so far you would think I would postpone it and do something else, but I still went for it, determined that this would write the wrong. It didn't. My hair is a mess. It's not as full as I would have liked. It's just like chicken scratch all through. The one redeeming quality of my weekend, gone just like that. It just truly tells you that "cheap is not in." I used a cheaper outlet to braid my hair and this is what I got. If I had spent more money like I did the last time, I would have gotten a better outcome. Never go cheap, it never works out in the end.

4. Finally I just checked my account and I am broke. I have about $40 left from now till next weekend, that's about 10 days away. Will that even cover gas money? That means another sucky weekend awaits me, and there's only so much you can do in Atlanta without money. Only so much. Barnes and Noble here I come apparently.

There you have it, list of things that suck just based on one weekend. I shudder to think how long the list would be if I cared to itemize all the other weekends this summer.  

The Rat Race Wars are over

I am thinking of leaving the corporate world after 9 years in the game.

How did I come up with this?

I don't know. It's been 9 years and with each job it's been the same battle. The brown-nosers advance more rapidly than us the cynical radicals. And when I think of it, I've always been a radical. That's why I chose to become a lawyer to influence the world with my decisions, to cause change in areas of injustice, unprecedented bias and subtle discrimination. Unfortunately, all these ills exist in the corporate world, these and many more. And I've found out that speaking against them while working in there is not really working for me. It's one of those games, you either join them or you leave because the show will go on, most definitely with or without me. Indeed, it has. They don't even make any apologies for these ills. I've also noticed that the brown-nosers who perpetrate these ills rise ever so quickly in the ranks and before you know it, us radicals are left behind to answer to them, even with all the qualifications in the world.

So since I can't write this wrong and I darn well, cannot continue to watch them happen, I want to leave and try something a little bohemian, celebrated artistic expresionism, where I can influence society with my words while not still hoping for them to help me pay the bills. I know it's a long shot. This is no longer the '70's. I haven't even thought of what it is exactly I will do, except write. I've been writing for over 10 years and it's still not given me the platform that I need. No one's listening.

I just know now that the corporate rat race is not for me. I am not succeeding in it and it's just eating at me and depriving me of certain things I would much rather do, things I consider fun and things that I feel would provide me with more fulfillment. When you think about it, I've never really been the strait-laced type. I'm never the first to get there and the last to leave. I get the job done but I have more subtle ways, less strict ways, more fun ways of achieving my goal. In the corporate game, the strait-laced ones are often recognized at the top of the list, constantly showered with accolades. Makes you wonder what gives. At this point you are probably wondering, okay if that's what it takes why not do that. But you see, I have.

I've done my test programs, where I've tried to play this game and pretend that I am someone else just so I can see if this newer, better, strait-laced me would get the job done. Has it worked? Not at all. There's a certain savoir-faire involved in the brown-nosing that I haven't quite mastered and that was the main deterrent. Ratz!

So there you have it. Me, officially making up my mind to throw in the towel.

God-willing I won't have to go back to waiting tables, retail jobs or anything strictly blue-collar. Like I said, an artistic livelihood, one where I don't have to constantly play the corporate game.

That's it and that's all.

Spam filters or Life Filters

I am regularly besieged with spam comments and emails on this site. Because I have a comment approval button luckily, you don't get to read them. But I cannot understand why they would choose to send in their spam on a regular basis. I am beginning to think no one else reads this site, except for the Asian spammers.

But this just got me thinking about Life Filters too. Don't we wish we could filter all the places that are not welcoming of single people, like put them on one list and when we feel the urge to go out, we double-check that list to make sure our intended destination is not featured on the No-Solo's Allowed List.

I went to a couple of these places over the weekend. It wasn't so much the place as the theme of the place, and I am sure I've mentioned this place on here. Lounges. Their very name means all you do is Lounge. Who does that in public? Well, the people that do happen to do this with people, in groups more like it, talking, drinking, having deep comversation over loud music, or they just stand around and admire the people that do. Lounges are not a good idea at all.

The only time I've had fun in one it involved forcing my way into some conversation with people; tired of being ignored I just forced my way into their discussion. Sometimes this works and sometimes it doesn't. So please don't try this at home! I cannot attest to its success especially in a lounge environment. Sometimes the people are nice enough to invite you to join them, like the Brazilian head-banging lady I bumped into this weekend who invited me to join her and her boyfriend, which I thought was sweet. This was a rare welcome occasion. So rare that I can mention the few instances it's happened. In Lounges, it's just not often that parties want to break away from their group discussion to make a new friend. It's also not often that they get visited by fellow singles, I mean if one single meets another single we can pretend we arrived together and thus begin our long interesting conversation like the other "Loungers". This is also not common.

In summary, Lounges fall into the category of places that a good "Life Filter" would block.

The Company of Strangers

You never really appreciate the weekend you've had until you get back into the swing of things on Monday, and sit at your desk all stiff, and just a whiff memory of the weekend is enough to put a smile on your face, add some jolt to your terse Monday Morning.

My weekend was pretty much a little bit of the same with little bits here and there of something different for good measure. I got to try out some new places, and also got to chat with some interesting people.

I went to Happy Hour on Friday to celebrate my brother's birthday at Ri Ra, one of my favorite bars. The bar  is so vibrant and creates such great ambiance that I love going there. The people there are not quite as vibrant as the alcohol selection. Talked to a couple of people, it didn't go so well. Met up with some friends later at another bar for a Happy Hour meetup. This was just okay. I think I am getting used to being by myself now that outings in a group are beginning to bore me. Quickly left the group to go listen to some music by myself, ended up chatting with this newly married man about what men want in a woman, very interesting take on the evening, quite different from my exchange at Ri Ra. So the night quickly went from Sad to Glad. Glad I changed location when I did.

There are usually two things that happen when I go out, asides from the impersonal bartenders, the cold stares and puzzled looks from people when they realize you arrived alone. Asides from the women who immediately feel the need to clutch their significant others once you walk by. Asides from all of these very thrilling events. One of these two events always seems to occur:

I either start a wonderful conversation with the person beside me, wonderful, riveting conversation or, I initiate conversation with the person besides me and it doesn't go so well and they either misconstrue my niceness for something else or just sound condescending when they respond. The outcome of this conversation or exchange is what defines my weekend, my general outing. How was the conversation? Was it stimulating? Was it thought-provoking? How much did I say? How much did they say? Was it amusing? Was it factual? Was it honest and raw? Did it make me think about it days later, i.e., was it memorable?

Isn't it surprising how a simple conversation with a total stranger can make or mar the weekend? People don't know that, the ones that fall into the latter and misconstrue my niceness or friendliness for something else, they don't know that some of the best conversations, most truthful conversations you may have in life, occur with total strangers. Because think about it, this people don't know you, there is a possibility that they may never see you again. But if for a brief moment you tap into their school of thought you can obtain some of the most uninhibited ideas about you, life, everything, in this brief time. Face it, they have nothing to lose, they can be as honest and hard-hitting with you much more than people who know you, and that honesty may be just what you need to steer you to any direction.

Even if you spend the whole evening shooting ish, it still livens up the mood and that's what a weekend away from the apartment is meant to do, isn't it? It's meant to stir the mood and give you a taste out of the ordinary.

One of the main reasons why I started this blog was because I kept meeting all these interesting people while I was out and tapping into their life stories for however long we would talk, and I wanted a place to capture all that. Our brains not being able to retain all this information, I would remember it for a brief period, maybe a week at the most and then, I would forget it. How would I ever write my novel if I don't remember this raw material I am being fed. I would besiege my co-worker with these stories and she just got tired of listening and said, "Just put it in a blog, that way you'll always remember." The idea of this blog just sort of progressed from that into my solo adventures and trying to encourage people to go out alone a lot more (just so I am not the only one solo). With that excursion, there really doesn't seem to be that much room to discuss these private conversations with people on this blog. Plus I don't want them to have to bide their tongue every time they see me, for fear that I would expose details of our discussion on the web.

That notwithstanding, I still encourage the occasional talk. I think people have built up this wall, this impenetrable wall that is comforted by having their companions with them when they step out into the world. And the few of us that don't have a wall, that try to speak to others through their fences occasionally get shot down by those that live behind the wall. At first it gets discouraging, for me it does anyway, I think to myself, why bother...but you go to another place and someone speaks to you, truly opens up to you and you end up having a mind-blowing conversation with someone and you think, that's why I bother, because you never know. I don't let it discourage me and you shouldn't too.

Here's to hoping more people let down their guards and just talk...you never know who's listening on the other end.

new solo converts

I've created a monster!

I actually have a convert  - a recent solo adventurer. My brother, who's birthday is today, (Happy Birthday Bro!)  is currently vacationing by himself in Accra, Ghana. His wife happened to be out of town on business for his birthday and instead of spending it alone, holding up the enjoyment until she returns after his birthday, he decided to take a cue from me and enjoy a solo vacation by himself. He is now in Accra having fun, shopping, taking in the sights, watching movies, having dinner and just being him. Isn't it fun? I ask him via texts, and with each text response he seems ever so elated that he took on this journey. Even my mum is elated that I somehow convinced him to do it. He said, I influenced him. I am glad I did. I told him once he vacations by himself, it would be hard to adjust with a group. But only time will tell if this is a one-time venture. Hopefully, so.  

A Mansion in Brooklyn's Newest Bohemia

I read, or rather browsed through this slide show in the NY Times Real Estate Section of a group of 20 something artists who live and share a house in Brooklyn.

The article was titled the same as this post.

The Bohemian aspect of it intrigued me greatly. You know I am drawn to all things "hippiesque", anti-authority and bohemian. I particularly like the freedom that it brings to be free from all the constraints that society wants from us. Society expects you to have a 9-5, have a car, have all this stuff in your home that you just might need, have a home, have a mortgage, etc, it expects that normalcy from you and some people just don't fit into that normalcy, a small group of people don't and this group seems to be getting smaller by the minute, but yes, some of us do exist that would rather choose to have the bohemian lifestyle; where we bike everywhere, sleep around all day and work in the evening, and spend all day reading and discussing Nietzsche, have visible tattoos that have some existential meaning that only we are aware of, get to go to all the cool art shows and discuss it like it's the meaning of life, and generally just have fun with our lives just being. I don't know. I am not making much sense. I just thought it would be really cool to live like that. As I scrolled through those pictures for a split second I wanted to be one of them, chasing my dream, living simply, among friends and like-minded people.

For a brief second, I wanted to be one of them. I still do. However, today I had to wake up early to get to my 9-5.

And you wonder what's wrong with me.

EDIT: 2017 - This article no longer exists on the NY Times Real Estate page. Tried to reach out to NY Times for an update or at least for the source pics, but they have not responded. Hmmm...too bad. 

Live Viewing Reviews

Hey!

Just wanted to take a moment to remind you about our event tomorrow night that you have rsvp’d for. Brianna Jenkins and I will be there and will be doing a live cooking demo and live viewing of Episode 6!

There will be free appetizers and Karma Tequila will be our drink sponsor and I created “The Herbilicious” which you are going to love for only $5!

Also, we are kicking off a school supplies drive benefitting The Boys & Girls Clubs of Metro Atlanta so please visit their Wish List and see what you can do to help the local children of Atlanta. Bring the school supplies with you tomorrow night!

Episode 6 Live Viewing Party

Location: ROOM at Twelve Centennial Park

Address: 400 West Peachtree St, Atlanta, GA 30308

This seemed like the perfect remedy to my vacation slump. When the invite arrived, I was sorta looking forward to it, even though I don't watch the show, don't watch Food Network at all, and I don't know who either of these contestants are. However, this offered me a chance to leave the house and to dine at Room at Twelve. I've dined at Lobby at Twelve and I like it a lot, very vibrant bar scene, great wine list, occasional sighting of the Atlanta celebrity. Love it! So I thought, Room at Twelve, here  I come.

I didn't invite any of my friends to come with me, because let's face it this was to happen on a Sunday night, in downtown Atlanta with no offer of free drinks, food or anything (ignore the free hors d'oeuvres note, because that didn't happen) so there was really nothing in it to entice them to come. If someone else had invited me I probably would have shrugged it off as well. There has to be something more to make people go out on a Sunday night. So I RSVP'd as a one-r, what else is new?

This invite was actually misleading because this did not happen anywhere as close to what was described above. It was more like Dinner with Herb Mesa. We were asked to come have dinner at this restaurant, then Herb will do a mini cooking demonstration, followed by a live viewing of the show. I thought it would be more like a cocktail party that offered the opportunity to mingle, to interact or do anything unless you were one of the lucky few who Herb greeted but more on that later. There were a whole bunch of us seated at dinner tables in the restaurant encouraged to have dinner there. That was it.

If you don't know anything about Atlanta events, at least know this. Well, these four points I will bring to your attention.

1. The event organizers actually don't know how to handle people who attend events on their own. There's a total lack of enthusiasm on their part when you say, hey, look for my name on the list and it's just me no, plus one. Their face completely drops and they start scrambling for what to do. Immediately, you are seated at the "kids table" or what I choose to term as "as far away from the rest of the group as possible" which is a sad reality. For all you know I am a writer, a critic, an event critic who has come to critique your show and if I was, why would I show up with someone, I would show up alone so it would give me more time to work on my review.

2. Not only are you seated at the "kids table", there is no service at this table because they instantly forget that you are with the rest of the group. How can they remember, that's the table for the people they are not sure how they got there. Why don't you sit me with the other singles or some place where I can mingle, let's try that. Why put me here where you can forget about me? So all the goodies that are passed around never get to my table? It's like I don't even exist.

3. Because you are in the non-existent table, the event hosts, in this case Herb and Brianna, don't stop by to greet you. They greet everyone else in the coupled up table but they don't stop by to greet you. Why would they, you dared to show up here by yourself?

4. This next point holds true for any event, last night's was no exception. The event photographers are trained to take pictures of groups, couples etc. There is this unknown rule of photographing events that has a two person minimum. I've noticed this but I didn't know it would be so apparent considering I take pictures myself. It almost makes you want to bring your own camera and document them as they skip you. At first I thought maybe there's something in my teeth or I'm wearing a color that does not look good on camera. Nope, none of these things. There's a 2 person minimum etched in their brain and one person just won't photograph as good.

This was my Sunday night. Disappointing a bit. Even more disappointing because the food at Room at Twelve was awful. The Calamari was comprised of batter and oil, nothing else. Worse than what you would get at a fast food joint, not a "fine dining" restaurant. The service was hazy, one minute they were there and next minute...poof!. It was horrid. My rating of the evening was a 5 out of ten. But I am not discouraged. I just think that with a little practice people will get used to seeing people on their own. We need to force feed them a dose of the singles. Now, they don't quite know how to deal so I forgive them.

With all that being said, I would still go out again. Part of being a writer is experiencing life, part of living is taking a bite out of life, good or bad. Sometimes I have good times, sometimes I don't. But at least I have something to write about that more than makes up for it.

Dinner For One

I finally got out of my funk and went out a bit this weekend.

I went to one of my favorite hotel bars - The St. Regis Hotel for a night cap. I treated myself first to dinner at One Midtown Kitchen, but trust me that was not memorable. I was blessed with one of those non-personable bartenders  that but for the food I would have sworn off coming back there. It's the type of place you go to and invite everyone you know, I mean everyone, your neighbor that you hardly talk to, your co-worker that you sorta despise, come one come all, just call everyone together because it's time to go to One Midtown Kitchen. I don't think they've experienced any single diners at their restaurant in years. There was too much shock and awe registered on their faces as I sat and chewed on my food by myself, this was even more evident in the perception of the other diners. So after a very unsatisfactory dining experience, I went over to the St. Regis for a drink. 

Don't get me wrong the food was great. They had one of the most imaginative Calamari dishes I've had in a long time. It surpassed the one I had at Bottega in Yountville, Napa. And the wine list was very ambitious. They had Gewurtzraminer, very sweet delicate wine that you hardly get on any menu. The ambiance was also very inviting; it will make you want to spend quite a bit of time drinking and eating and taking it all in. However, that was it. There needed to be something more and that something more was sorta lacking for me so I moved to another location, determined not to let this deter me from enjoying my evening out. 

Aaah, the St. Regis, how I love thee. The hotel is so pretty, so close to home and yet I hardly go there. I don't know why. It's so gorgeous, the top notch interior design is excellent from the breathtaking grand lobby, to the exquisitely designed bathrooms. Like the lady beside me said, she always feels like she's been transported to another place whenever she comes there, like she's gone on a mini-holiday somewhere else. It just made me think, that's it, that's what I like so much about this place, the escapism factor. Everything else is also very exquisite, from the valet who greets you like you're their only customer to the bar staff who patiently explain the wine to you. Such a sharp contrast to the first restaurant I had visited that evening. After the funk I found myself in upon returning from vacation, when I thought nothing else could quite compare to California, not the service, not the weather, nothing could compare. After falling into that slump for about a month, the St. Regis was just the best place to roll me out of that funk. 

I guess for me what I take away from this experience is that you always have to go to that happy place, where the people treat you like they see you, even though you're by yourself, they see you, they greet you with a smile and there are people that just might be there on their own, you're not sticking out like a sore thumb. And with that place you instantly erase the bitter aftertaste of all the places that occurred before it because you've been seen as an individual who enjoys the good things of life even though they would like to enjoy them solo.