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.