La Vida Loca

Well! Where to start...

Basically I've just been living my life, topping the charts, stacking up millions, wearing sick couture outfits on the red carpet, and vacationing with hot athletes in Mexico. Oh sorry, that's Rihanna's life not mine! Sometimes I get confused because our lifestyles are so similar.



KIDDING! My life is a little different then hers. For one, I haven't been warm in months and I wear a scarf every single day now because my neck gets cold without them. I try to make it a fashion statement but I think people are catching on. I'm basically the palest I've ever been because I've made the mature, adult decision to stop spending my hard-earned money on tanning beds when every inch of my skin is covered up anyway. My clothes, while cute, are not exactly straight off the runway. But I did go on vacation!!!

Yes, in case you missed me last weekend I was partying in Vegas with five of my favorite "bitches" and honestly, Rihanna would be proud. I can't share all the sinful details, but lets just say that our trip included a complimentary gourmet meal of filet mignon and truffle mashed potatoes (ordered for us by our VIP host of course), a criminal number of shots (key lime pie shots are THE BUSINESS), and a fun-filled evening with some Afghani oil heirs at Tryst. I indulged (almost) all of my vices and it was freaking amazing. That brings us back to reality.

Back in this dreary little city that I just can't get enough of, big changes are on the horizon! After almost two great years of cohabitation, my lovely roommate and I are amicably parting ways. I will obviously miss our late night corner store "sweet treat" runs, epic Halloween parties and Tuesday nights watching Bad Girls Club together, but I am excited to get my own place! All by myself! Part of me wonders if I will turn into a complete recluse living alone...it's possible. I'll let you know how it goes. Actually if I do turn into a recluse, I'll probably stop blogging so maybe I won't let you know how it goes.

On a serious note: last week, when I wasn't preparing for Vegas or searching for a new apartment, I was working on a tribute to Howard Zinn, the amazing historian, writer, activist, and playwright who recently passed away, for www.spectrumculture.com (a badass website that I write for). As stressed as I was, it was very interesting and inspiring and I'm so glad that I got to write about him.

I highly recommend reading Zinn's work--he re-wrote American history from an entirely new perspective, and told the shameful truths that many of our high school history teachers (not to mention to US government) didn't want to divulge. A documentary is coming out based on his work later this month and you can see the trailer here, to get a little taste of what I'm talking about. If you need me to name-drop to keep you interested, it features performances by John Legend, Sandra Oh, Rosario Dawson, and many more, so check it out. I know I flipped the script there and got really serious, but it was for your own good! Open your mind!

xoxoxo

Jess

New Layout, Quick Update

I am so excited! I just figured out how to add a custom background...thanks Lisa! I have been extremely busy with ten million other things but I will be posting very soon...

Writing a Howard Zinn tribute so lots to say about that, and I'm also MOVING to a new apartment AND going to Vegas in two days for a weekend of debauchery...so I will have much to say.

xoxo

Jess

Compassion

I’ve realized that most writers are narcissists, and I am no exception. Who but a narcissist would broadcast their opinions and feelings for the world to see (or even just for facebook to see) and assume that people will care? Yes, as much as I try to keep it in check, I’m pretty self-involved. So are you, probably. That being said, there is nothing like a 7.0 Earthquake to put things in perspective.

As cliché as it may sound, it’s difficult to worry about things like losing an iPod or getting a traffic ticket (both of which happened to me this weekend) when there are millions of people with no food, water, or shelter in Haiti at this very moment. The images that I’ve been watching on the news are so unreal, but at the same time so incredibly real that they immediately bring tears to my eyes. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be surrounded by bodies, especially if some of those were the bodies of family members and friends. I can’t imagine watching my home be destroyed and to have to wait for days for help to arrive.

The interesting thing about a disaster like this is that it has the capacity to bring out both the best and the worst in people. The worst: people who started fundraising scams in an attempt to steal from those wanting to donate to the relief effort, or painfully vapid actress Taylor Momsen’s comment about being too busy with her record and her TV show to think about Haiti. The best: the flood of donations and support from all over the world, nations and people putting aside their differences to help those in need, and the tremendous acts of bravery and strength that are taking place in Haiti as we speak.

Still, there are the cynics. When something like this happens and there is an outpouring of generosity and concern, some feel compelled to point out that “Haitians needed help before the Earthquake but nobody cared then”. This is for the most part true, but so what? I don’t understand how that mentality helps in any way at all. Yes, it would be nice if it didn’t take an earthquake or a hurricane or a tsunami to bring out the best in people, but it does. And it’s better late than never.

My personal opinion is that if you are able to help in any way at all, it is your responsibility as a compassionate human being to do so. And there are plenty of legit ways to help, so I will list a few in case someone is actually reading this:

Red Cross: http://www.redcross.org/en/ or text 'HAITI' to 90999
Oxfam (water distribution): http://www.oxfam.org/
World Food Program-donate to my personal WFP fund raising page and help me reach my goal of $1000: www.mycampaign.kintera.org/jbhaiti

REMEMBER…what goes around comes around!

"Filtering"

It’s 2010! Astoundingly, this New Years Eve was actually fun—maybe it was the 24 hour champagne diet, or maybe it was a sign that this is going to be a great year. Either way, I’m optimistic…I know, easy for me to say five days in. Still, I feel much more prepared and informed coming into this decade than I was at the start of the last one. As much as I still don’t know, I’ve learned a few key life lessons thus far…which brings me to today’s topic. In honor of fresh starts and clean slates, I present to you something my friends and I refer to as “filtering”.

Listen…I’m all for loyalty, and there are people that I can speak to once every six months and still feel close to. The concept of “ride or die” is not lost on me. However, I’ve also come to realize that every single friendship I’ve accumulated over the years does not have to be dutifully preserved—especially if it is clearly past its expiration date. Those relationships are the ones that need to be “filtered”. Yes, “filtered”…like bacteria-ridden drinking water. Get it?

Admit it…we all have people in our lives that bring nothing to the table. I mean the people who only call when they need a favor, or the hot guy who constantly flakes on you, or the friend who can talk about herself for hours and never once ask you how your life is going. It seems that many of us feel we have to keep these people in our lives even when the sight of their name on our caller I.D. induces feelings of disgust. I say, for what?

The way it was explained to me once was that every bit of energy and effort put into people like this leaves less for us to put into ourselves and other, more deserving people. In other words, in order for us to meet great people and have amazing things happen to us, we have to make space in our lives for them first. It’s basic logic, really.

A quick disclaimer: I am not a proponent of filtering immediate family members, no matter how crazy they can be (really, really crazy sometimes, I know). There are other people that can’t be easily filtered as well, like baby daddies. I think it’s important for us to learn how to coexist with and even appreciate these people, since we’re stuck with them for a reason. But in my mind, that’s all the more reason to trim the fat where you can.

Just try it…filter me if you want. If this blog makes you want to puke and you are thinking to yourself how annoying and holier-than-thou I am, just FILTER me! Un-friend me on Facebook! Un-follow me on Twitter! Don’t answer my phone calls! Or do…either way, take my advice. Life is too short—or too long—to be surrounded by people who don’t bring out the best in us.

Happiness

When I was 5 years old, my biggest aspiration was to be 16 years old, have a car, and have a boyfriend. In my mind, there could be nothing greater. Flash forward to age 16, when I had both a car and a boyfriend...and I was miserable. Extremely miserable. I was stuck in a small town that I hated, my boyfriend was a crazy compulsive liar, and my car--a 1989 Plymouth Acclaim-- got me from point A to point B but that was about it. It wasn't exactly all glitz and glamour as I had imagined.

Now, rewind a little bit to age 11. In an especially angsty diary entry in which I was ruminating on how mean and awful my big sister was and how unfair everything in my life was, I solidified my plans for the future. My life goal, I wrote, was to live in an apartment in San Francisco, watch as much MTV as I wanted, have cats, be a newspaper reporter, and play sports with the neighborhood kids in my spare time. Weirdly enough, I have no recollection of thinking that while growing up, but here I am...living in an apartment in San Francisco, watching all the MTV I could ever want. My roommate has a cat. I'm not a newspaper reporter, I don't really like sports and not many people trust me with their kids, but three out of five is still pretty great.

So you are probably wondering what it is like to have realized your childhood dreams before age 25. Again...it isn't quite as I imagined it would be. I am happy, but not because I have unlimited access to True Life and Cribs. All of the things that I wanted as a child, from the car to the boyfriend to the apartment have their downsides. Gas is $3.00 per gallon. My rent is tantamount to extortion. And boys...lets not even go there. The cat is the only thing that I'm still as thrilled about now as I was back then. My point is that no matter what we achieve in life, we will never be completely satisfied. It's human nature.

Still, many of us, especially those of us in our twenties, seem to think that happiness is something that we earn, something that is just out of reach. Every promotion, pound lost, relationship milestone, whatever it is, brings us one step closer to eternal bliss. We deserve it, we are putting in our time, surely we will be rewarded sooner or later. But what if we aren't? What if life doesn't work like that?

I read an article a while back titled “Welcome to Your Quarter Life Crisis”. Writer Kate Carraway asserts that persistent dissatisfaction is unique to our generation: “Unrelenting indecision, isolation, confusion and anxiety about working, relationships and direction is reported by people in their mid-twenties to early thirties who are usually urban, middle class and well-educated; those who should be able to capitalize on their youth, unparalleled freedom and free-for-all individuation. They can’t make any decisions, because they don’t know what they want, and they don’t know what they want because they don’t know who they are, and they don’t know who they are because they’re allowed to be anyone they want.”

When I read that, I was SO relieved. There is a reason why we can never be totally satisfied, and it's our parents' fault for encouraging us to be whatever we wanted! My generation has it so rough because we have too many options! Poor us! Then I read that quote to my aunt, one of the wisest women I know, and she laughed and told me that everyone feels like that in their twenties, and it isn't specific to any one generation. So much for the “Quarter Life Crisis”...

I still think that the feelings described in the article are legitimate though. And I think the problem is that we are constantly looking outside of ourselves for happiness. Face it, the world is a cruel place. The only person you can truly depend on is yourself—everyone else is too unpredictable. This doesn't have to be a bad thing though—it just means finding out how to be happy without outside validation. I'm not certified to be giving psychological advice (I know, shocking) but in my experience, this is key.

The Club

As I write this, I have a splitting headache. I'm tired, my body aches, and I'm attempting to suppress menacing waves of nausea. No, I don't have H1N1...yes I'm hung over. Last night, I tried my best to create a “smoky eye” and manipulate the frizz on top of my head to something resembling a hairstyle. I then left the warmth and safety of my apartment for the dark and rainy streets of San Francisco and paid a cab driver an exorbitant amount of money to take me all the way across town, to meet friends at “the club”.

Oh, the club. Right before I turned off the TV to watch a youtube video on how to create said “smoky eye”, I was watching the hilarious TV show How I Met Your Mother, and this particular episode was about clubs—and how much they suck. Ted (the show's protagonist) is thrilled to finally get in to an exclusive club called“OK”, only to discover that the music is too loud to have an actual conversation with anyone, the drinks are outrageously expensive, and really, it isn't that fun at all. He spends the rest of his night commiserating with the coat check girl. Exasperated, he says to her “These clubs are supposed to be fun, right? Why do I hate them so much?”. She answers, “Because all of the stuff you're supposed to like usually sucks, like these clubs. Or cruises.”

I tried to ignore the irony of seeing that episode right before I embarked on a night of dealing with self-important bouncers and overpriced drinks (seriously—how is a vodka soda $8.00? IN THIS ECONOMY!!!). The truth is, though, the coat check girl was right. Clubs are a scam. I don't fully understand how it took me 24 years to finally realize that, but I've seen the light. And trust me—I have gone to A LOT of clubs. Basically my life ages 18 through 22 was one long episode of Jersey Shore (with slightly better outfits and slightly less sun damage). I even worked in a club during college, as a Hostess.

The problem is that clubs reel you in time and time again with the promise of glamour, excitement, and handsome strangers. You forget that there is nothing glamorous or exciting about spilling your $8.00 drink on yourself when someone shoves past you because it is too crowded to move (fire hazard, anyone?), or waiting twenty minutes in line for the bathroom or the bar. And don't even get me started on the whole “handsome stranger” thing.

Actually, do get me started on it. In college, I had great success meeting men at the club. It was basically like “just add alcohol” and behold, bad decisions were coming out of the woodwork. As much fun as I had with those bad decisions at the time (xoxo boys), its just not the same now. A random guy at a club tugging on my sleeve now induces extreme annoyance rather than romantic intrigue. Its possible that I have raised my standards...I like to think so. I can't say that there are no decent guys to be found at the club, but they will probably be drunk and acting like pricks to impress their friends, so you won't be able to identify them.

Another issue is that as much as I love hanging out with my girls, once we are all liquored up and thrown into a huge crowded club, its hard to keep everyone on the same page. One of us will need to go to the bar, one of us will have to pee, and one of us will want to sit down because she has been dancing in 5 inch heels all night. Since we don't want to split up (and run the risk of losing each other for the night), a lot of time is spent on missions to ensure that everyone's basic needs are met. At a bar, its much easier. You can actually go to the bathroom without five people's permission.

All that being said, it isn't like I will never go to the club again. I'm not really so naïve to think that at age 24 I am mature enough to make a statement like that. I reserve the right to be a hypocrite, so remember that when you see me spilling vodka on myself and talking to a random dude next weekend at the hottest nightclub on the scene.