9-5 Heaven

So I think I survived my first week of my new job. I say I think, because I'm not quite convinced that I didn't die in a terrible accident on my way there on Monday and then proceed straight to work-heaven.

I know this sounds like an exaggeration, but it's not: this is the Best. Job. Ever.

The benefits are great, the views are stunning (see figure 1, which is also my office) there's an employee gym with lockers and showers and towel service and massages(!), and a tasty cafe, and if all of that weren't enough, I am so excited about the work I'm going to be doing and everyone I've met so far is super super nice. And goodlooking. And smart.

I keep getting worried that this might be a dream or I'm being punk'd. Any minute Justin Beiber is going to jump out from behind my cubicle wall and say "gotcha! Ha, you don't actually get to work here! You work at Wendy's now!" at which point I would probably cry a little, but also nod knowingly and say, "I saw that coming, Biebs".

Now, per usual, I'm not going to directly identify where I work, but suffice it to say, it is the employment equivalent of winning the lottery or finding out you have super powers. Or a lifetime supply of chocolates and cheese. If you're familiar with LA at all you will also be able to tell where the location is from the photos.

I am so so blessed.

And a tiny bit terrified that I will need to work really, really hard in order to not screw it up. My first day I spent so much time in the morning trying to prepare, and look the part, and be perfect, and when I finally got there it was a really humbling experience to realize that the people at this great place already think I'm good enough to work there.

I'm trying hard to prove them right.

Back.

That's right. I'm back. So much has happened since I decided to end this blog. I moved out of my tiny studio in Venice and into a four bedroom house with 3 other girls, a quirky dog, and a Los Angeles address. I got sad. I bought a car. I tried to leave the state. I started a new blog. I gave up my new blog. I met new people. My parents moved away. I reconnected with old people. I had crushes. I had drama. I bought a bed. I quit my job. I found a new job. I started running. I stopped caring. I painted. I staycationed. I watched too much tv. I learned to play poker. I took a dance class. I got happier.

And here I am now. I went through this phase where I felt like the life I was living wasn't enough and somehow I needed to BE more significant, and I didn't want to write about being me anymore because it felt lame, and played out. I'm almost 25. People around me have kids, and mortgages, and husbands, and promotions, and graduate degrees. I don't have those things, but I'm okay with that, because I have friends, and plans, and love, and light and that's all I really need. And when you think about it, there's something remarkable about taking those things and allowing yourself to be satisfied with them and cherishing the present while charging full speed ahead into the future.

Things have changed a lot for me. Tomorrow is the first day of my brand new job. I am nervous and excited. My shiny new pumps are set out beside my shiny new pens and my shiny new coffee mug. It feels like the first day of school.

Things have also stayed the same for me. Today I went to the beach, and the farmers market, and talked to strangers and ate street food.

So for everyone who cared to read my blog before, I'm back. Still me. Still the same. I'm just wearing shiny new pumps and pencil skirts now, and living in a big house in a beach suburb instead of a shoebox in a beach city. I'm also laughing, learning, and making mistakes, and usually that's kind of fun to watch.

So here's to figuring it out.

Love and Let Go.

2011 was a wonderful year for me. I experienced so many new things, in particular, living alone, exploring a new city, and I couldn't be happier with the little niche that I carved out for myself in Venice. 

Having said that, it's time for a new chapter. It's 2012, and the changes keep coming. I bought a new car, I'm trying out some new hobbies, pursuing some new goals, and part of this new growth involves moving out of Venice. It's hard, and it feels kind of like a break up. I keep reminding myself though that every time I've gone through a break up, I've experienced a little bit of relief. Relief, because everything happens for a reason, and the hope that nothing good can begin with out something else coming to an end. Relief at the idea that this experience has changed you somehow for the better.

This week I'm moving in a with a great group of girlfriends in LA, and I am so very excited. Excited for roommates, excited for having a full kitchen, excited for living in a neighborhood where people aren't digging through your garbage at 3AM. I am hopeful for new beginnings. Of course I'll miss Venice: the boardwalk, the beach, the farmer's market (that's a tough one to leave. I wish I could just live at a farmers market),  and my sweet studio that's so tiny I have to go in the bathroom to change my mind. 

The final change that I'm going through, is that this blog is coming to an end. I started it as a way to document my life in Venice, and it's been a great place to share my experiences, trials, and accomplishments, but since my time in Venice is ending, this blog has run it's course. Now before all ten of my followers freak out (that means you, Mom) I'm starting a new blog! It's a shorter format, but I'll be able to update it more often. Don't worry, I'm not abandoning the blogosphere. I'll post the link as soon as it's live. 

So farewell for now. Here's to 2012 and new beginnings. It's time to lose sight of the shore again.

Do As I Say, Not As I Do.

So yesterday I cut my own hair. I think most people know this is a poor life choice. I mean, even I would advise against this idea.

But apparently, I'm not very good at taking my own advice, and I did it anyway because I was bored. The last time I was bored, I made a half-hearted attempt to learn how to use water colors, and the time before that, I decided I was going to tutor small criminals. It's hit or miss.

Even so, boredom, and scissors? That's usually a bad combo.

You know what's harder than cutting your own hair though?

Taking your own picture. Now that will make you feel like a complete idiot. Try it. 

 

 P.S. I decided it needs to be even shorter, but I'm going to get professional help for that. 

P.P.S. This post is actually meant to distract you from the fact that I haven't posted about Thanksgiving, my new car Francine, or the fact that I'm moving out of Venice. I know. Things are crazy. I'll get to it. Don't rush me.

The Rise and Fall of the Perfect Pumpkin

Happy Halloween!

I don't know if it was because I was somewhat deprived of Halloween festivities as a child, but I am into this holiday in a big way now that I'm almost 25. I'm embracing pretty much every Halloween tradition I can get my hands on, including dressing up and watching scary festive movies (because someone informed me that "The Craft", "Practical Magic"  and "Hocus Pocus"  don't actually count as scary films). By far, my favorite Halloween activity is pumpkin carving, though. I like it so much, that I actually went to two different pumpkin carving parties, two nights in a row.

 I spent pumpkin carving night #1 fretting over my pumpkin, turning it over in my hands, trying to get inspired, and mostly just watching other people carve theirs.

I was also watching Game 6 of the World Series, so I wasn't super invested in my pumpkin. It turned out out okay, but let's face it, it wasn't the most show-stopping of the bunch: It had my name on it. What my pumpkin lacked in creativity, it made up for in clear identification...

I don't like to admit failure, but the above was definitely my 'starter pumpkin'. Sort of like when Kim Kardashian married Kris Humphries (too soon?). The following night, I had a much clearer picture of the direction I wanted my pumpkin carving to go. I sketched out a design, and went to town carving the world's  most adorable pumpkin.

Okay, more accurately, I spaced out while watching a movie, and then this cute pumpkin idea just came to me. I didn't have any sort of plan. Which is exactly why my pumpkin turned out awesome. Because I let it happen naturally (and because I'm a gifted pumpkin carver).

  My pumpkin was a thing of beauty. Really. I developed a serious case of Pumpkin Pride. I probably don't have to explain what that is, but basically, I thought my pumpkin was the best. I didn't say it. But I was definitely thinking it.

 To be fair, I really did like the other pumpkins at the party, because they were diverse: Gaga Pumpkin, Kitty Pumpkin, and Little Ghost Pumpkin were also very good... but I was blinded by the aforementioned Pumpkin Superiority Complex (commonly known as PSC).

So I admired my pumpkin, and went to sleep that night, satisfied that I had done a fantastical job and had dreams of winning awards for my pumpkin carving skills... Unfortunately, strange things happen on the nights leading up to Halloween, and when I awoke, I was greeted by the following horror:

 

My precious pumpkin had been vandalized. And this is hard to talk about, but not by naughty children as you might assume, but rather, it had been brutalized by rabid squirrels. 

I didn't see the squirrels do it, but there were tiny bite marks and nibbles everywhere, and there was a pile of crumbs nearby.

The evidence is pretty damning. I spent an absurd amount of time being upset about my pumpkin the next day.  I considered borrowing my brothers' airsoft gun, and camping outside next to the pumpkin to wait for the culprits to return, but eventually I decided that wasn't the most effective use of my time this weekend. In the end, I learned a valuable lesson:

"Pumpkin Pride cometh before the fall. Thou shalt not think thy pumpkin is fairer than thy neighbor's, lest the woodland rodents (or squirrels in Santa Monica) devour your pumpkin."

That said, my pumpkin was pretty darn cool before it got ruined. Seriously though. Why else would the squirrels ONLY eat mine?

R.I.P. Pretty Pumpkin.

Stories from the Clank.

So if you've been following my blog, you probably know that I've started going to a local juvenile detention center once a week to to tutor inmates. And by inmates, I really mean misguided 16-year olds, most of whom are in gangs, or robbed other misguided teenagers, or did equally stupid and illegal things.

That said, I'm so attached. I've gone for five weeks now, and really enjoyed the experience every single time. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to tutor the same student more than once each time. The following scenario usually plays out:

I arrive at the detention center (which I affectionately refer to as the Clank).

Me: Hi. I'm Janae, I'm here to tutor *Skillz/Jimmy/Armando ( for their own protection, I'm not using their real names. okay, except Skillz).
Warden: Sorry, Skillz/Jimmy/Armando isn't available today.
Me: Um, why not?
Warden: We caught him selling drugs/fighting/giving his homie a tattoo with a bic pen.
Me: *sigh* Can I have another kid, please?

This has happened almost every time I've gone EXCEPT for the time one of my kids got released early for good behavior! Woohoo!

Anyway, my point is, this week I got one of the kids I'd had in the earlier weeks, and boy, was I excited to see him again. We chatted and caught up about, and he told me that he got into a fight 5 minutes after the last time I saw him, spent some time in solitary confinement, and then wound up getting kicked off the football team, and having extra time added to his sentence. Clearly, he was busy in the 3 weeks we were apart.

The silver lining to this fiasco, was that it seemed to be a wake up call to getting his act together. We spent the next 2 hours doing practice SAT tests, talking about college and job placement, and reading the Hunger Games. We also set the following goals for him:

1. Study for the SAT's and get his highschool diploma.
2. Look at some options for colleges or vocational schools.
3. Get the tattoo on his neck removed (the Clank has a program that will take him to get laser treatment once a week. My kid decided on his own that having a tattoo on his neck that said "MISUNDERSTOOD" was probably detrimental to getting a job.)

Goal number 3 brought up an interesting point, because this weekend, I went to a party and wound up with a temporary tattoo. No big deal, except I forgot to wash it off before I went to work on Monday, and before I went to the Clank to tutor. Obviously, my kid saw it and wanted to know all about my super-cool tattoo. Except it wasn't super-cool, because it looks like this:

Yep, I'm the world's biggest poser.  and yes, I still have yet to wash it off.

Suffice it to say, my lame temporary tattoo, only further made the case for thinking carefully about what you put on your body in terms of people taking you seriously. We had a good laugh about that. Even so, it's a good feeling knowing that I can help a 17-year old who's been in jail for 8 months to make some positive goals. More updates from the Clank soon.

-BCG

Fall is Having an Identity Crisis.

October is being a tricky minx. It knows that I want it to be cold and autumn-ish, and that is why it is now 90 degrees outside.

October is trying to spite me. But you know what? It's totally okay, because I'm taking the high road, and embracing this "Oops, we forgot to tell you it's still summer for a few more days" situation. I don't hate it.

Yesterday, I left my air-conditioned office, and was smacked in the face by dry October heat. So I did what anyone would do, when it's 95 degrees in mid-October. I went home, put on a bathing suit, and laid on the beach for an hour. And because it was still hot out when I was done (literally done, like cooked), I went inside and invented the best, "It's 90-degrees in October cocktail".

Recipe after the pictures. You're Welcome. Happy Friday.

Lemons from my parents' backyard in Santa Barbara.

Fresh mint from my tiny window garden.

I didn't have a strainer or a cocktail shaker.

I made do with a tea tumbler. Resourcefulness.

This drink is best enjoyed outdoors in the fading summer/autumn light and warmth.

"Solstice"      
 *Thanks to my dear friend Blake for coming up with this very appropriate drink name.
Serves 6

1/2 c. white sugar
2 1/2 c. water
4 - 6 lemons

(or... go to the store, get some Simply Lemonade and skip the first three steps. I'm not judging you). 

12 oz. vodka
6 oz. peach schnapps
20-30 large mint leaves

Directions: Slice the lemons in half and juice them, then strain juice from the pulp and seeds. Mix in a pitcher with water and sugar. (If you bought lemonade, then skip the above steps, you lazy bum...)

Separate the mint leaves into six portions , and then muddles the leaves (or if you don't have a mortar and pestle, chop it up and roll it between your fingers) and then put the leaves in the bottom of a cocktail shaker (or if you're me, a tea strainer).

Add ice to the shaker, and then add lemonade, 2 ounces of vodka and 1 ounce peach schnapps. Shake vigorously (really vigorously), and then strain into a glass. Garnish with more fresh mint and a twist of lemon.

Note: if you don't want to make them one at a time, you could also mix it all up and pitcher and just serve over ice, but word of warnings, the lemonade makes the mint turn kind of brown, and not pretty after a little while.

Also note: If mint isn't you're thing, this recipe is equally good with rosemary or lavender. Now hurry! Go make this and drink it outside while it's still sunny and hot out!