February Joy Train: This month has been inspiring and beautiful. We finally got a little rain. It’s still perpetual summer here in Los Angeles. My bike rides, each one to and from school, have been perfect, incident free, mind clearing breaths of fresh air [or maybe not quite “fresh air” since this is LA after all]. That moment in yoga where we set an intention for each class, I’ve never really been able to conceptualize that until now. Until I finally saw what it is that I need. A hammer. Or an axe. Or a hurricane. Every step I take on my mat, I envision myself stepping through whatever it is that’s been holding me back, not just recently but for my whole life. A wall I’ve always known was there but never wanted to acknowledge because it felt like an inherent part of my being instead of something I built slowly and perfectly over the course of the past 25 years. Now that I know what I need, I know how to get it.

The reason I wanted to spend New Years Eve and Day alone in utter solitude as far away from myself and my home as I could possibly get on a price limited re-booked Lufthansa ticket was because I knew there was something I wasn’t seeing. I wanted this to be a year of reflection, not necessarily backward, but inward. I wanted to grant myself the space to see over and over the mechanics of myself and my life. So I can adjust them, click everything into place, and figure out what to do next. I’ve realized a lot about myself the past 6 weeks.

I wouldn’t be who am without my vulgarity. 
I wouldn’t be who I am without the fight I’m always fighting inside myself. Someone I once loved told me to stop fighting myself. I took his word for it, figured his insight was stronger than my intuition. It’s only in the past couple weeks that I’ve realized that this fight is who I am. Sometimes I get in my own way, but it’s almost always ultimately for a good reason. Something inside me knows things I don’t already know. If I’m not fighting myself, I’m not fighting for myself, and if I’m not fighting for myself, I can’t fight for anyone else the way I have to.
The only thing I want to be is a warrior. A warrior for myself. A warrior for the people I love who have died. JAY, VRL, SKB, they all have two things in common: 1) they each played a defining role in my upbringing, my growth, my development into the person I am and 2) they were each so incredibly strong in spite of circumstance. They were warriors. It’s not a coincidence that Orion is tattooed on my right wrist. My dominant side. It’s no coincidence that the people who brought me up are the strongest fucking people I know.

I feel like I am finally learning how to read myself. Each day I learn something new. Here’s part of why this month has been so wonderful…

Valentine’s Day

Woke up with this little guy.

Ate breakfast on my front porch where the mailman hand delivered me this adorable card from my parents.

Drove to yoga to meet my beautiful date, who had ten hot pink gerbera daisies for me.

Did acro partner yoga and flew in the air on her feet!

All lead by my beautiful yoga instructor and love of my life, M.

Came home to shower and get dressed up for dinner. Decided to eat at Home where we both had espresso martinis and I had red velvet pancakes with whiskey cream cheese icing for dinner. A liquor rep even came to the table and gave us each a red rose.

Met our girl K at her apartment for champagne, then headed to C’s birthday drinks event at The Churchill for the rest of the night.

The best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had even though I forgot to eat all the chocolate they had at the yoga studio.

“Perfect World”

Every morning, this is the first song on my bike ride to school, and half way through my ride home at night, the album begins again and plays this, right around when I hit Beverly & Robinson. I always sing it out loud even though no one else can hear the music in my headphones. When I’m driving, I blast it on repeat. Over and over and over and scream the words. This is the song I’ve been looking for.

When the song is good enough, I forget how steep the hill is. And the day “Perfect World” came out, this weight became, instead, the end of this wait. If there’s any song I would have written to heal myself, it’s this one.

My name graffitied on a dumpster in Brooklyn

An old friend from SLC who I hardly hear from unless I’m in town texted me one morning last week. He sent me this photo from Brooklyn. I know the universe is screaming, I’m doing everything I can to listen correctly. I am heading toward something, I just can’t see what it is yet. I have an idea though.


When I was in Malta, every night that I’d come home, B would be watching Castle as her mindless wind down for the day show. I would curl up on the couch after a day of walking and thinking and watch with her. At first I found it to be terribly written, the procedural aspect so painfully redundant and predictable. But I love NF because I am forever a Firefly devotee, so I kept watching. When I got back to the United States, I missed Malta a lot and I missed coming home to B, so I began watching Castle on my own. I watched it like comfort food. But then something changed and I wasn’t satisfied with the random order in which I’d watch episodes as they appeared as reruns on TNT. So I started from the beginning. This is blasphemous to say, but I stopped watching Shameless for this. I haven’t even seen a single episode of season 2 of House of Cards yet because of this show. I am obsessed with Castle. Obsessed. And of course I understand that there’s a reason that shows like this become popular and stay popular. And it’s been on the air for 6 seasons now and is still running. But it’s not just entertaining me. It’s changing me. Something about the murder solving is breaking open the problem solving portion of my brain, and I’ve found myself thinking outside the box to solve my own problems. I even used an analogy from Castle to explain to a confused student something about her upcoming assignment and I saw it click for her in a way I’ve never seen before. This show is like therapy for me [which is helpful since my own real therapist is on maternity leave]. It’s forcing me to think about things I’ve buried so deep I’ve never even thought to look for them. I know this sounds completely insane. It’s just a silly television show, and not like the kinds of shows I usually watch. This show won’t ever be in a list of the best dramas of the past 25 years, it probably won’t win awards, but it’s quickly becoming more important to me than anything else that’s currently got my attention. And it doesn’t hurt that I’m completely in love with NF.

Other things

My lovely K turned 30 this month and we celebrated with her family at Palihouse, then spent the next day kicking ass at SoulCycle and eating the best brunch I’ve had in LA.

826la threw a Centaur Club party at Meltdown Comics in Hollywood. There was a photobooth. This photo of me, L, and B courtesy of Alex Rapada.
We went to see stand up at Los Globos and Maria fucking Bamford showed up and started the show. She wasn’t listed as one of the comics, so it was the best surprise imaginable. 
And the rest of days…

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