I opened my eyes and looked up. The red digital angles of time stared back at me from above and across. 3:12am.
“Hey, weren’t we supposed to see the meteor shower and the phosphorescent algae?” I elbowed Nick who was snoring next to me. A series of onslaughts and complaints about missing cosmic events eventually led to a role-reversal. Suddenly I was expected to get up and walk to the beach too. In the corner, a planetary solar system was lit up like a diorama. I didn’t look too closely at the glowing orbs. They were remnants of an art installation for the Venice Art Crawl in September. Welcome, fall.
The bathroom had been turned into a “Cosmic Bathroom” with black lights, painted wallpaper strips, and paper mache planets hanging from above. Now a pared down version had been transferred to Nick’s room. I was too tired to decide whether I approved or disapproved.
I put on my wedges, demanded a hoodie, and we walked down Venice Way, through Windward Circle, past the iconic Venice sign, cut through the boardwalk, and then we were there.
“I don’t see anything. Don’t we need to actually be on the beach…like the shore to see something?” Continue reading Cosmic beaching→
June arrived, and I was ready for it. I had been counting down the days until I could leave the purgatory that Los Feliz represented for me. The bad lonely-girl juju of my apartment sublet. The swath of screenwriters and actors furiously seeking their big break…and possibly being ready to do anything to get it. My solitary walks around Vermont Ave, Hillhurst Avenue, Hollywood Blvd. Bad dates with nice people.
My landlord had taken a job writing for Comedy Central in NYC, and she was back packing her life away. She procured the registration for the car, the little Prius nightmare – soon the lease would be transferred to me, or so I thought. Not so soon.
I packed up my little life into my two suitcases. The big silver one has a big turtle and a turtle-like shell pattern molded around the sides. One wheel hasn’t completed fallen off, but it has lost 99% of its structural integrity. I thought about that Sunday in Palermo a year ago when my original suitcase, the one I had hauled all over the world, had broken. I lugged the bulging 50+ lb suitcase through the cobblestone streets with no data plan to guide me to the hotel I had booked that morning. I arrived dead. Tired. Wondering if I should push myself to explore the contours of a shuttered Palermo on Sunday. I needed a suitcase. I needed it that day. And so this shop magically appeared before me like a mirage. It was open until 8pm. Even more surprising. Continue reading My Venice Nest→
My phone is ringing. I pick it up grimacing and bracing myself for what I know will be a bad conversation. It was a returned call. I had received an email a few minutes beforehand asserting that I was condescending and that we might need a mediator to work with us on our separation.
I placed the call, which went to voicemail. I wasn’t sure if it would be returned, but there it was. So far, no mediator.
I launched directly into my piece. “I’m so sorry that you thought I was being condescending. I didn’t mean to be. I just didn’t understand what IP meant in this context. We don’t have IP except some mockups and specs.”
“Can’t you just wait for the agreement from the lawyer? I don’t have it yet.” The tone was ramping upwards.
“Sure, I can do that, but I was just trying to help resolve things quickly so we can move on, and I had questions about the content. What is in the agreement?”
“Can’t you just wait for the agreement?” That went on repeat until it turned into a scream. I hadn’t had anyone yell at me or talk to me in this way for…certainly years. I was disturbed but also sickly curious about what was going on. Was she completely losing it? Continue reading Breaking up→
I have eased into an alternate reality that is becoming reality. Days of walking several blocks to the beach, cooking at home, and community BBQs. After years of a mostly paleo existence, I’ve learned to be less punishing, allowing myself to eat some of my favorite foods in the world – bagels and pizza. Sunshine days and local living. The world has become simultaneously very small and yet expansive.
I’ve found a sense of place and home in this gritty mecca of graffiti and washboard abs. I don’t think I’ve seen an Asian person in months, which I find oddly not cosmopolitan. I’m not missing the lack of intellectualism. I find myself fading away from the person I used to be and verging closer to who I really am. I thought I would do something big in my life, and I worry that I won’t find a sense of ambition again. It feels safe to be in a bubble.
It’s been an input period. I’m finally happy being social again. I can’t write. There is so much to say that I can’t really say anything. If I put one word in front of the other, the flow may return at some point.
Now…back to bagels and slow living. Am I meant to be slow?
I started this blog on July 1, 2016. I remember landing in Japan the night before wondering where I was going and why I was going there and not knowing anything except that I needed to go. I navigated the Tokyo subway system tenuously, using my allotted 200 MB allowance of overseas data and racking up a $750 bill in phone charges in 3 days. I didn’t know what to do. I knew I SHOULD see Tokyo, so I put in some halfhearted broken efforts to explore. Mostly, I walked. I sat. I tried to be. I hoped something good would happen. I hoped I would snap out of it.
On my way over, I stopped in LA and saw my friend Lily who picked me up from the airport and took me to lunch at a yummy restaurant in Manhattan Beach. “This is where you should live. You should get a small house here and just sit.” By “here,” she literally meant Manhattan Beach, not LA. I’m not so far off now though here in Venice. She told me to start a blog. I got on the plane to Japan. I got off the plane in Japan. I slept. I woke up. I went to Starbucks. I started my blog.
I’m a different person now. I don’t even know that person anymore. I don’t feel that person anymore, though I can see her from a distance.
(Almost a month since I last wrote in here, that is.)
My Venice, CA chapter is now 1.5 months old. It’s been a good birth. It’s been a tectonic life shift. I haven’t written real full sentences in so long that it feels unnatural. I’m awash in experiences, but my perspective and ability to process and express hasn’t caught up yet.
Venice feels like home 75% of the time. I feel good here overall. I’m a few blocks in one direction from the ocean and 2 blocks in the other direction from Abbot Kinney, the main drag full of trendy shops, California-style fancy restaurants, and a superior level of people-watching.
My routine involves going to the beach almost every morning to meditate and write. My writing these days consists mostly of a few scribbles rather than full complete thoughts. I think my brain is clouded with this disease I call “busyness.” Then I try to go to yoga, the gym, or both. Then I try to do work. I sometimes succeed, and other times, I manage to procrastinate or ruminate. Continue reading Almost a month, a sea change→
I believe in artificial deadlines. As May approached, I decided that May 7 was the day I was going to start getting serious. Psychologically, we are inclined to think of life in milestones, in groupings of calendar years and age years, in life events like moves and job changes.
So seis de Mayo came. The months leading up to it had been monastic meanderings to coffee shops in Los Feliz feeling the feels of self-inflicted isolation. I had turned inward and went on some bad dates. Nothing seemed in alignment except my connection to myself to some extent. I have to admit I was dealing with some anger management issues and inexplicable fatigue. Some places just drain you. Some practices just drain you.
My list of goals became less objective. Instead of “lose 15 pounds,” it became “stop giving people second chances.” Continue reading Life plans→
I am sort of starting to understand the whole East Side-West Side divide, though also not really. Maybe it will finally click in when I move to the West Side. Or maybe it won’t. Is it distance? Is it culture? Is it both?
This period in Silver Lake and Los Feliz has been uncertain and intentionally lonely. It’s been about rediscovering and initiating the process of rebuilding without actually doing the rebuilding part. February was my Silver Lake hideaway period and my introduction to LA, a period when I was open and excited and yet tentative and hidden. I didn’t have a car, so I would Uber or take long walks to the gym. Hours would be spent looking up at the ceiling fan.
Los Feliz and Silver Lake are literally blocks apart, and where I ended up living in Los Feliz is actually closer to parts of Silver Lake than I was when I was actually living in Silver Lake! And yet, they are worlds apart. Silver Lake is like Williamsburg, or at least like Williamsburg used to be. Edgy, cool, artistic, raw. And yet, not even that anymore, as the edge moves further in the direction of the edge towards Echo Park, Highland Park, and who knows what lies beyond that. I haven’t bothered to study a map. Listening to GPS without actually looking at the map moving hasn’t helped. Being generally oblivious to my surroundings hasn’t helped either. Continue reading Last week on the East Side→
I probably shouldn’t write in this mood, especially since I haven’t written anything in this blog for ages, but F it.
This is not a unique thought or sentiment, but happiness in the world is largely driven by the state of your relationships. It’s not really money, career attainment, or the stats of having XYZ wife/hubby, kids, and $XB house. I mean, those things help, but they’re empty without the sinew of good vibes and sharing that bring those things to life and give them meaning.
You may be extremely successful in your industry, but if the only people you interact with on a daily basis are douche-bags, that’s going to be highly unfulfilling and toxic (unless you’re one of those sociopathic douche-bags, in which case it might be okay). Continue reading Relationships are hard→
I wish my brain weren’t so cracked out right now. It’s hard to get the right balance of sleep and wakefulness. Lethargy puts a blanket halo on the world. Sounds up close feel far away. The internal fuzz.
Internal fuzz and emotional pinches have been a theme of the week for me. Life. Work. Meaning. It’s easy to feel fatalistic about the world these days, wondering when it will be our time to go. If we’re just running out the clock, then why keep the clock ticking? I don’t actually believe this, but when I see all the suffering in the world, I wonder if there is sufficient joy to counterbalance this and make it all worthwhile. And what am I even doing to help? There is a mix of hopelessness and shame in how I am spending my time. Awareness is a step towards change. Continue reading Art at the Broad→
Saturday, May 6 was a special day. Gray skies and clouds hung uncharacteristically over the Los Angeles Metropolitan Area as I prepared provisions for the BBQ Pool Party planned in West Hollywood. I don’t know if there is anything actually cosmic about this date or whether “cosmic” phenomena even really exist. In my (pseudo-nutcase yet romantic) mind, I imagined the constellation in a particular configuration spelling out, “It’s yo day, Grace.” Too cloudy to know whether that actually happened or not.
Seis de Mayo is the 1-year anniversary of my last day of corporate life. The day before, I had flown into Chicago to tell my teams in person and on the phone. I had taken the 6am flight from La Guardia into O’Hare and took a car to the northern Chicago office (vs. the northern suburban HQ that I usually went to every week). I locked myself in a conference room and tried to catch my breath. I was still in my executive gear and mindset. Suited, cold, and trying to be as unflappable as possible. When the time came to face my team, I entered another room where most of them were seated in a rectangular configuration. The line was opened and beeps could be heard joining. Continue reading Happy new year!→
How do we prevent our issues from the past from dominating the discourse and our thought patterns in the present and future? Sometimes there are lessons that get served up over and over and over again until you’re ready to not only learn them but radically course-correct your life according to that lesson.
“Lesson! Yes, I hear you and am in service to you, and I will change everything to show you that you have been learned. OOOOMMMM.”
Here are some lessons I’m learning the hard way:
Set boundaries. When you get used to people crossing your boundaries over and over again, it affects your self-esteem and overall sense of self. You are telling yourself and others that you don’t matter, that you have no right to ask more of the universe and people. It’s not okay for people to make you feel bad even if they didn’t mean it. Either communicate or walk away. Don’t go down the path of “maybe if…” Or, “I don’t she meant it that way.” Or, “maybe he’s having a bad day.” I love to give people many chances and rationalize away their bad behavior – it’s like a specialty of mine. People don’t change unless they truly want to and recognize it at a deeper level. Earlier this week, someone really nice said to me, “I think I may have crossed the line.” Boundaries at work! No one has ever said that to me before. And I had to walk away even though I didn’t want to, out of respect for myself. I hope this will become an instinctive habit rather than a conscious and painful undertaking over time. It’s hard to see the death of possibilities, but “sometimes, soooo-metimes you just have to walk away,” as Ben Harper would say.Assume good intentions but be prepared to take appropriate action.
I woke up this weekend in a 2-3-drink level mild hangover funk. Both days. I rolled out of bed for yoga and then rolled back into it to stare at the ceiling, my favorite activity. I’m not going to diminish the fact that I was having a mini-existential crisis, wondering if my future was in LA and processing the fact that I’d left my job, my home, my friends and community, and my old self behind. I was alone. I wondered if anyone other than me would save me. “Is there anyone there?” I asked. Negatory, I concluded. There is no God. Just a Gracelette. Damn.
My cure for this was not more cowbell. It was a focaccia pesto vegetarian panini and french fries outside Bistro Figaro.
I shuffled in a black and blue romper that is way too short for me to wear anywhere other than the beach and in a neighborhood where I know no one. It was breezy and sunny, projected to be in the 90s. I imagined myself on Sundays at Le Monde in Morningside Heights Manhattan, sitting outside on wicker-ish chairs reading the New York Times, except that I was reading a sky blue paperback copy of “Popular Lyric Writing 10” while typing notes in my iPhone. The man on the shared wicker bench to my left looked artsy and seemed a bit gruff to the waiter, who delivered and took away the check. Why does he have to be like that, I wondered. Continue reading Voice in my head = man next to me at the bistro→
It was 92 degrees in LA on Saturday, the hottest since I got here. It was a warm, dry pleasant heat. A perfect beach day. I was hung over from a half bottle of wine. I considered leaving my neighborhood. It was a forced consideration. I decided to go to Venice where my business partner lives. A guy I met at a high school alumni event and with whom I started writing music and had considered dating lives there too.
On low battery, I went through the routine of getting my gray Prius (now scratched in the front and missing a hubcap) out of the garage and re-padlocking the door. I drove 55 minutes to Venice Beach, where I had a picture of a pin drop sent to me. My music friend who looks like Kurt Cobain was at home, unable to really muster up energy to meet me but asked me to stop by. Or to go to the part of the beach right in front of his building. Always putting in most of the effort can be exhausting. Continue reading Beach day→
My musings on life, travel, and (I suppose eventually) work. Just trying to balance left and right brain, the urge to do vs. be. Easy stuff.
