Circles.

It was that point in the evening where the clouds began to cover the city. Staring at what stars you had to struggle to see, it starts to become easier to notice that something else was going on in the sky. The clouds begin their graceful dance to come together and envelop the city. As if they wanted to rock everyone to sleep in their embrace; to shield everyone from the fears of the night. And there she stood. Tonight wearing her silver sexy-yet-functional heels, her favorite and most versatile little black dress, the floating diamond necklace from her mother, and her hair perfectly straightened hanging just past her shoulder blades. She turned when she heard someone coming, and immediately put out her Marlboro light. It was Stephen.

“How many times to I have to tell you to quit that shit?” He was leaning in the doorway to the terrace with one hand in his pocket and the other holding his jacket at his side. “Damn he looks good tonight.” She thought quietly to herself. He wore his Gucci black pinstripe suit that night, with a sky blue dress shirt rather than the typical white, and the matching pinstripe tie he got for Christmas years ago. “Well you know the more you tell me not to, the more I’m gonna want to do something.” She said playfully as she put her pack of cigarettes back into her purse. “What the hell are you doing here so early anyway?” she asked. “Maybe I just thought I’d keep you company. Want a drink?” he then asked her. She turned back around to face out again and responded with a quick, “No.” And then he asked, “So what do you want to do?” “I just want to stand here for a while, if that’s okay.” “Yeah, okay.” So he stood by her leaning on the balcony as well. Without saying a word, with the both of them knowing that just being with each other was enough.

It had been years since they had seen each other. She left to travel the world and find her purpose, only to settle in New York City a year later. He stayed and did everything he set out to do: law school, the six figure salary to start, everything. But before that, they were in love. At one point they were even thinking about getting married. But as so-called cynics say, you can’t live off of love. So she left. And now here they were, standing side by side waiting for their best friends’ rehearsal dinner to start.

It’s quite strange seeing where life takes you, and even stranger how many times, it merely leads you back to where you started.

Note to Self. Two.

I would normally hand write this in a journal, add it to the document on my laptop with everything I have ever blogged, then paste it on here. But alas I lack all my materials for said ritual. Thus I am forced to type as quitely as possible in my sister's guestroom while simultaneously attempting to not wake her sleeping children.

Anyway...

The people I have chosen to be in my life are everything to me. I choose to love them, support them, entertain them and forgive them unconditionally. Of course when you care about people so much, many times it's going to hurt a lot. When people leave, when they make mistakes, when they worry the hell out of you, it (for lack of a less favorite phrase) sucks. And then they come back to you, or you come back to them, and everything feels the way it always had, if not better. And that's the thing about reunions, more important than catching up is the remembering. Looking back on the stories of ditching class to go to the grand opening of Hollister in high school, or friends not being able to make "Easy Mac," or driving around your undergraduate college shooting nerf guns at each other, or seeing your roommate passed out on the couch with his laptop next to his face and his hand still on the keyboard.

Life is ridiculously hard. But sometimes life is just ridiculous. Maybe it's to offset the difficulty. Or maybe it's just because I have insanely amazing people in my life. Either way, try to live for the simply ridiculous. You'll smile more, I promise.

Note to self. One.

I am going to try to begin a new series. Of course I will continue my usual blogs, but this series is meant to be more vaguely personal. Here is the first of more to come. I hope you enjoy.

He’s the guy that you always know you can’t really have. You may have had him once upon a time, but that time no longer exists. He’s the man that you fall in love with time and time again, and every time it always feels like the first. You both know that if things were different and your life situations permitted it, you’d be together. And since you both know that isn’t possible you keep trying to go on with your lives pretending that your heart is completely your own. But forgive me, my love, you are wrong. You two are bound by fate. You will always love him, and he will always love you. And while this is known to both parties it still does not by any means ensure that you two will ever be together. Perhaps, my dear love, you both are doomed to never be completely happy. For you are doomed to never be together. And as sad and depressing as it may seem, would it be so bad? For while you may never be with your fated soul mate, you may yet have other loves of your life. Do not limit yourself, rather allow the love you have enhance your love for others.

AmeriCorps.

I grew up with scarcity. I lived in the same house my entire life built in 1942 in the worst part of my small town back home. My father was a drug addict, my mother was always ill due to a severe heart condition, my sister is bi-polar, and my stepfather has a gambling addiction and is an alcoholic. And for most of my life there were at least seven people living in a three bedroom one bathroom home. I don’t have one small moment in my life that has made me want to reach out to others, I have a lifetime.

I have never had money and I have never felt completely secure. And for a long time because of all of this, I was resentful of all that I came from. From 3rd through 12th grade, I worked myself to the bone to guarantee my place at a university far away from home. I wanted to get out, and I did.

But then I grew up. In my four years at UCLA I have come to realize that my life full of nothing but adversity has made me a better mentor, a better friend, and most importantly a better person. I learned to let go of whatever made me want to leave everything that was familiar, and to embrace everything and everyone that came my way. I realized, that maybe I was meant to experience all of the hardship I’ve endured in order to better understand and help others.

I have always known that while I have never had everything, there are others with absolutely nothing. And since I have never had much, I am able to identify with people in need. I have gone without many times in my life, and I feel that now it is my responsibility to at least try to ensure that others don’t have to experience what I have.

The truth of the matter is, I’m about to graduate from one of the most prestigious universities in the nation. People are telling me to go to law school, or take a year off to travel, or work at some big fortune 500 company. But I don’t see the point in doing any of those things. Because while a job would make a lot of money, law school would ensure a good career, and traveling would be a good experience, none of it seems worthwhile. I have lived my entire life listening to what people told me I was supposed to be doing. I got fantastic grades for 12 years because going to college was expected. I am graduating in June because my family expects it. But I have given my family and the rest of society 21 years of dictating what I should do with my life. This time, I am making a life decision completely of my own volition: I am going to help people. I don’t need any pats on the back, or thanks, or praise for being so generous. I just want a chance to make a year’s commitment to simply serve others, and if I’m lucky, maybe even make a small difference.

I want to serve because I know it’s needed. I want to serve because I know I can. I want to serve because I know that my life has made me perfect for it.

This ain't Hollywood, this is a small town.

Four years ago Thanksgiving came only about two months after I had first moved. And being as I was so completely homesick, I had already been back a few times before then. That first thanksgiving trip back home I turned eighteen, had a big party, saw family, did everything my Mom told me etc. It was if nothing had really changed.

I go home a lot less now, though I try to be there for my family whenever they really need me, or want me home. This is what I found, everyone and everything is different yet very much the same. There was a remodel of the one mall in my hometown, a Super Wal-Mart built, a BJ’s built, everyone from my graduating class is 21, and there have been a few more stoplights installed. But driving around town, I was reminded of all the reasons why I moved. You see the same people you grew up with all around town, every single place you go. You can drive from edge part of town to the other in under 20 minutes. And there are a total of eight exits along the one freeway that goes through town.

But as much as I love to talk shit about where I’m from, I am so thankful for being born and raised there.

I have a huge family. My Mom’s side has ten children therefore I have tons of cousins. The amazing thing is that me and all of my cousins get along really well and are pretty close for not seeing each other very often. We realize that although our mothers are pretty much insane, we came out alright, which is pretty good considering all that each of us went through. On top of having tons of cousins, many of them are married and have their own children which just makes the family even bigger.
And I’m so lucky because of it. I know that whatever I do, or wherever I go, I have this group of people who will love me and be there for me no matter what. My family is insane and tons of drama, but I love them, if for nothing else, our amazing stories.

Then there are the people I went to high school with. I made a toast to being a part of the best class to ever come out of Modesto. And I meant it. I moved away with the intention of letting go of everything and everyone in that town. But honestly, the group of people I went to high school with (who were in literally every single one of my classes for four years) are some of the best people I know. I looked around the table and just thought to myself, these are the people who give others hope for the world. They are kind, generous, ridiculously intelligent, and loyal among many other qualities. We have all been there for each other for at least eight years now, which I just think is remarkable.

So while I still think I was never really made for a small town, and I got out of there as soon as I could, I wouldn’t trade my hometown for anywhere else in the world. Because it’s the people that make it anything worthwhile. And good ol’ Modesto, California has a lot of very, very good people.

Thank to everyone who made this year’s Thanksgiving amazing.

The Couch.

Everyone loves comfortable furniture. Everyone loves nice furniture. And then there are those people who just generally love furniture in general. They spend their Sunday afternoons flipping through the Crate & Barrel catalog, or the Ikea catalog, or watching shows like Design on a Dime, or Top Design.

Well, while on occasion I have spent a lovely afternoon with an Ikea or Crate & Barrel catalog on my lap, there is one piece of furniture that has captured the hearts of many.

A couch.

The story of this couch is quite remarkable. Born of the fantastic website “craigslist” this couch came into our lives almost randomly. In the beginning, it was never really seen as anything more than somewhere to sit. Couches have to be in living rooms otherwise there is no real way to “live” in said room. And so the couch was purchased and set up in a beautiful apartment in West Los Angeles dubbed “HQ.”

The way “HQ” came to be is a story to be told another time. As for the couch, with its future a bit uncertain came into our home, and performed its job quite well by providing many seats for many, many friends and family. Let me just say, this couch is probably the most comfortable couch you will ever meet. It hugs you, invites you to sit, lay, and relax on it as long as you’d like. But also in many cases longer than you anticipated because of its incredibly high level of comfort.
This brown wonder has become a part of our lives. It has been there for many people when they have no where else to sleep. It has been there whenever it has been called upon to sink into in times of exhaustion. It has been climbed on, laid on, sat on, hugged, fell upon, etcetera. But moreover, it has become a staple in not just our everyday lives because we live with it, at this point, we do not know how to live without it.

The couch never complains when there are way too many people on it than it was made for, or when there’s crumbs that fall into its cracks, or when it’s too loud in the apartment, or when drunk people fall all over it. The couch never asks questions, or judges, or doubts anyone. And granted it is an inanimate object, the couch has made all the difference in making an apartment a home, making strangers friends, and simply making everyone more comfortable.

We love you couch. Never change.

Erasers.

I teach children these days. I always thought it was so cliché when people would talk about the wonders of children, and how they can teach you so much more about the world than you could ever imagine.

Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say children can teach adults everything about the world, but I have had a quick life lesson with one of my students. His name is Jorge. And while he’s a whiz at math, he has trouble in spelling and reading. Which is where most of my work is done. He had to put vocabulary words into a sentence and he was having trouble spelling words in the sentence. I would tell him to sound it out, or use the dictionary, because we’re not supposed to just straight out give them the answer. (At least not all of the time.) He got frustrated and gripping his pencil said to me, “Man, I always make too many mistakes!” And for some reason, without hesitation I replied to him cheerily, “Well that’s why you have an eraser.” And with that he was fine and carried on with his work no longer frustrated with making mistakes, knowing he could use his eraser and they’d be gone forever.

But when you get older, your mistakes don’t have to do with spelling “rural” or addition and subtraction, and an eraser can’t help you. When you get older your mistakes have to do with your life. Your mistakes can’t be erased, and while they may be forgotten, that is only if you’re lucky.

I guess the point of the matter is, why can’t things be more simple? Why can’t we love each other enough to have this big eraser where we all forgive and move on?

Maybe that’s too idealistic, but maybe a little idealism is what we need from time to time. And maybe getting older isn’t about trying to erase your mistakes, but it’s about being grown up enough to know when to let go of the sheet that’s marked up beyond recognition. Because maybe, just because you don’t have an eraser to permanently get rid of your mistakes, it doesn’t mean you can’t grab a brand new clean sheet of paper and just start over.