It has been forever and I have not added anything new to this long lost blog. I think beginning today, I will be taking a new approach to this blog.
“the pursuit of quality in a fleeting life”
That has been my mission statement for this blog, however, I have failed to recognized that quality is just the mere fact of living life the best we can. Therefore, I will now concentrate on those things that bring quality to my life. I will challenge to recognize a new quality of life that will be an indicator for the true value of the combined total of our experiences = life.
Today, I would like to recognize that it was a celebration of my aunt’s 25 dedicated years to God. An amazing devotion and a true role model to us all. Thank you Aunt Cecilia for teaching us about patience and self sacrifice. We love you so much!
Recently I had the displeasure of spending some time with an American. No, it wasn’t a date gone wrong, it was my rental Dodge Avenger in the most primary blue that the skies derive its color from it.
First, the car rumbled like a tractor mowing across the lawn. In my case, I was trying to mow across the speeding freeway ahead of me making my way with only the most minuscule sense of motivation to actually move. Coming from someone who has driven a Lexus, and even the cheapest model in the Toyota Corolla line for that matter, I could barely achieve the efficiency of a 90 year-old grandmother. Either from the engine being ill-fitted or the glass windows too thin to block out the exterior noises, the radio paid little consolation to the roaring metal compelling my own existence to proceed.
Second, the car lacked all functionality. From the manual headlights to the radio having to be turned on and off upon entry and exit, my irritation for such simple niceties in life could not have been fulfilled. There are no graces when the car is locked, rather a resounding honk from the car horn. There is no finesse when the ignition is lit up and the car is still in complete darkness, only waiting for your resolute command to turn on its lights. There is no sweet melody to the radio greeting you when you turn the car on, only silence until you have settled into the faux leather seats and decided to take away the pain with the countless commercials played on public radio (but that is whole other on its own). Thank goodness I am not in the wild heat of summer, or else I would have scalding third degree burns on my entire backside.
Lastly, the vehicle (if it so chooses to call itself that) simply had NO style at all. I understand that the American way of life has certainly moved far ahead in its time, however, the engineering in this vehicle was eons behind its consumer. The car simply has no style. From the color of the car that only a five year-old Hot Wheels collector would appreciate, to the grossly uncomfortable interior that would rival those of rides at Disneyland, I was severely disappointed. The car looked like it wanted to be on the race track, but was laughed off of it because it was trying too hard.
I can promise even if I were to receive an American car for free, I would not dare drive it off the lot. I would immediately sell it to the next best bidder. I’d also throw in a prayer because after such a crappy purchase, they would want to run the car and themselves over a bridge.
If “shopping centers” were rated by stars, the Americana at Brand would be the Sun. Beauty, selection, and a gorgeous day make for a perfectly leisure-filled afternoon. Reminiscent of a true little town’s Main St., the Americana is a diamond in the rough of Glendale. I actually do not know if Glendale would actually be considered a “rough”, but either way, the center stands on its own.
Anyways, on to our day; we immediately sat down to a couple cupcakes from Crumbs bakery – red velvet and caramel pecan. Delicious and equally fattening, we had the sugar level of a Pop Rock-induced 5-year-old. We strolled over to the Barneys Co-Op; drooled, fancied, and cried at the number of beautiful pieces that longed to be worn for fall. Stopped by a few other shops and decided to call it quits.
Our appetites came and we headed to Grandville Cafe for dinner. Yummalicious. I had the Mac & Cheese and the combination of all my favorites – asparagus, chicken, and peas – absolutely heavenly. This restaurant was awesome in every sense, however, our server was severely thin and commented that the portions are too large for him (totally unnecessary). A high recommend on a very long list of excellent Los Angeles restaurants.
Full, tired, and comatosed; we headed home from a long day in Glen-daaaalllleeee!!!!
Last night, I saw the most graphic movie I had seen in a very long time. Eat, Pray, Love. I’m kidding, the movie was Kick-Ass. A simple story with an enemy and a hero, it was unassuming at first, but after the first five minutes, it turned from a jovial, comic-esque plot to something that rivaled the Abu-Ghraib prison abuse photos (May 2004) that were shown all over the news.
Recently, on my trip to Beverly Hills, we had the opportunity to go see a Broadway show in LA. The only one that was showing was a less-known production called , “In the Heights.” Based in the Spanish Harlem of New York, we went through the trials and tribulations of a young college girl who has a beautiful voice and a secret to tell her parents.
We were very skeptical at first being so unfamiliar with its notoriety, but we gave in to the $85 seats that ended up being in the 8th row.
The show was amazing, the story was compelling, and the theater was gorgeous as usual. In a time of spontaneity, we definitely hit a gem on this wonderful musical that touched every emotion.
For a short time, it was also at the OCPAC, but unfortunately, it is now primarily showing only in New York. Till next time Upper East Siders, xoxo gossip boy.
Last month, the OC runners (Kimee, Vu, and I) headed up to the “bridge city” to experience the San Francisco Marathon for the first time. Mark Twain once said,
“The coldest summer in my life was in San Francisco.”
And it certainly was. We ran through the clouds, the mist, and the drizzle with blood, sweat, and tears to finish the half marathon. The race began on the bayside of Embarcadero and ran through Fisherman’s Wharf, across the Golden Gate Bridge and back, and finished in the Great Park.
It was my longest half marathon, but having to contend with the forces of nature and lack of training in which we endured was still a successful trip. In two hours and twenty-two minutes, those were the most cold, wet, and testing of all marathons.