Biggest Brain Freeze Ever

If you've been adventurous enough to dig into the archives of my blog, you probably would have stumbled across a post or two chronicling my move to Los Angeles from the east coast and all the necessary anguish we shall call it because typing out bullshit just isn't appropriate (oops) that precursored the big event. You've also probably heard me lament my loss of pizza, schmear, and Italian food. And lest I forget to include real New York bagels in that list, I will have committed some horrible sin in which I would be sent to some hell where sweet confections and bagels surround and taunting me for my newly acquired gluten allergy. Thank god that is just some sick thought and not my reality.

BLK DNM • Cropped Motorcycle Jacket

So anyway, after my big move, job change and understand that I can buy challah bread at the local bakery  I now lead this great amazing life where I'm happily drowning in cotton candy clouds flying on rainbows on unicorns (Pegasus?) and crying tears of joy that turn to liquid gold. Yeah, false. Don't get me wrong, my life is pretty damn awesome. Actually, I shouldn't (notice I don't say can't because I always can) complain, but I do. Seriously, that paper cut hurt and it warranted at least three Hello Kitty Band-Aids. No, for real. 

So the issue at hand is I make life really, really, really hard for myself. Like, unintentionally but completely intentionally. Confused yet? Does it not make sense? If it does make sense then I want to know what you're smoking and where I can get some because it really makes no sense at all to me. Let's break this down and examine some key points.

Why My Life Is Awesome

• I live in a 'bomb' location (bomb is some newly acquired So Cal lingo I'm trying to exercise)
• I love my job, yes, actually
• I love my relationships (friends, family, significant other, etc.)
• What I do after work is so much fun (I'm a grandma so it mostly consist of sewing)

I can't actually think of anything else I spend my time on with the exception of grocery shopping and getting gas and those are pretty neutral tasks. I don't love them and I don't hate them. They're just things I must do like occasionally sleeping. Okay, okay, I absolutely LOVE Sample Sunday at Costco and riding on their big shopping carts.  So this brings us to the big question, why is my life so hard?

Crappy Stuff

• Eating bad food (calories and money spent, TERRIBLE!)
• Losing my cellphone in the sheets with it set to silent (HORRIBLE!!!)
• Consuming too much caramel popcorn and getting stomach ache (there is NO medication for overeating!)
• Not getting my way (seriously, what creep would eat my last bite of pizza? That's just RUDE.)

You get the point. The list goes on, and on, and on... and doesn't just stop at getting disgusting looking trucker tan on the daily morning commute. Basically, I sweat the small stuff. Like, big time sweat it. I'm letting that ity, bity, milkshake, not boba straw sized tunnel vision get in the way of me seeing the big picture. The reality is I have a milkshake. I want it now and I can have it now, so why limit myself to getting a straw sized brain freeze when I can just take the whole damn glass and put it to my face?

I don't know about you but I'm definitely going out into the world from now on with the intention of getting the most epic brain freeze possible. Now the question is... what flavor?

Note: So I may have gone to the local diner and gotten a mocha fudge oreo shake... and finished it... and the extra side cup thing too. The delectability of that milkshake may have been denounced so a trip to Jack In the Box to buy two more milkshakes may have also happened...

LA Winter

Dressing for winter in LA has been a tricky thing for me. I find myself complaining about the cold more often than I ever thought I would moving to sunny California. There are mornings where I wake up and have to defrost my car and actually scrape my windshield. I even find myself skating down the steps in heels because of ice I had no idea could exist in SoCal. But eventually the temperature gets up to the mid 50s by the afternoon and I'm shedding cashmere like it's my job because the sun is just so.... sunny?

To complicate everything, my work wear and blogging wear (aka when I'm sewing and getting dirty in the shop) are completely different. Wearing four inch heels while standing forever is never appealing. So, what to wear?



Layers! 1 cashmere sweater • 2 wool scarf • 3 leather jacket • 4 jeans • 5 wool socks • 6 booties

I also always carry my cashmere beanie with me, nalgene (random), and keep flat shoes in my car along with a change of super loose clothes. Honestly, I feel like you never know when or where you will arrive in LA. There is so much driving and the temperature can drop 30 degrees in a day. I'm so used to having the winter just be cold and knowing I will freeze all day, every day for three to four months. Appealing, I know, but at least I'm mentally prepared enough to not complain. Haha.

East Coaster in Los Angeles

This is what I wake up to and get to drive through every every morning. I am fortunate enough to live in the lovely Santa Monica Mountain range.  © William Thoren

If you're an old time reader of my blog or even if you've read some of my posts in the past few weeks, you probably know that I've gone through a lot of changes. One of those (big things) would be my relocation to the west coast... in particular Los Angeles, California. Moving 3,000 miles was surprisingly easy. It took two carry-on bags, three medium, three large sized UPS boxes and ground shipping. But being in California has proved to be a bit more complicated...

The night I arrived the car I was driving in broke down in the middle of the I-405. Yes, the engine literally cut out in the middle of California's most aggravating, dangerous, and horrible freeway ever. Actually ever. I broke down smack in between an on-ramp and the zooming highway and got the police to close down all five lanes of northbound traffic. Luckily, AAA came to the rescue, the tow truck guy was awesome, and the whole experience was actually hilarious and fun because there was nothing I could do about it. Some great camera phone photos happened.

The next California challenge was learning that people here don't use exit numbers like east coasters. That means when someone tells you to go to 'Lost Hills' they're not talking about a town you have no idea about (because you just moved 3,000 miles) but they're talking about an exit. This is probably my biggest frustration with California. I just want to know that because I am at exit 129 and I am getting off of exit 119, I am ten miles away. Just give me the numbers.

Terminology. Okay, I knew that there was some lingo discrepancy between the east and west coast but seriously...

flip a bitch - to make a U-turn
geeking - to be working really hard
toads - otherwise known as 'totes' on the east coast which translates to totally
I'm going to the club! - I'm going to get lots of medical marijuana... illegally... at a place that sell it legally...

There are lots of other wonderful nuances about the west coast and probably a lot of it has to do with LA itself, but I've managed to experience a plethora new things. Driving in the rain on the I-405, thinking two hours one way is a short commute, In-N-Out Burger, clubs closing at 2 AM, no late night food, and the fact that there are valleys everywhere but there is only one Valley are just to name a few. I'm sure I'll discover a lot more and become completely jaded about the ones I have just named, but through and through I'm an east coast girl at heart.

Feel free to overnight me some legit New York bagels at your earliest convenience... oh and maybe some schmear (yeah, go look that one up west coasters).

A Confession of a Beginning and an End

As some of you may already know, a few months ago I started a very difficult yet rewarding journey. On this 'crusade,' and I use that word because it literally felt like one, I found myself at one of my lowest lows trying to understand the mess I was in while in it. Today I can say that I officially fulfilled the dream that I created at my lowest point. To retell the story of where everything began is a long one so I will skip over the beginning and start somewhere in the middle.

In university I studied computer science. As a senior in high school I had convinced myself that computer science was the way to go. Maybe I was looking for acceptance or maybe I was looking to legitimize myself to myself, but in either case, the decision I made wasn't one that ultimately made my happy while at school. And, it was a decision that I later realized was based off of me looking to please others through my own skewed vision.

So, at 18 years old I entered university set up to get my degree in computer science at arguably one of the toughest computer science programs in the United States. This was obviously not a great thing for someone who would later realize her passion wasn't computer science at all. By the end of freshman year I started to have my doubts. By the end of sophomore year, I was really ready to change majors but couldn't find a way out that would leave me satisfied so I stayed and fought my way through for two more years.

At age 22 I had shed quite a few tears over my major and probably added a lot of future wrinkles to my skin somewhere in the forehead region. But, I got a piece of paper. Actually, a huge one with my name stamped on it and the official Carnegie Mellon University seal. At this point you'd think my journey would be over and I would have wiped my hands clean of computer science and gone off to pursue my passion, fly over rainbows, and hiccup pots of gold. Totally wrong.

To fully understand what's going on we have to dial back a couple decades. My real passion and talent has always be in the creative world. Frankly, math and science weren't my strong suits. They just were things I had convinced myself to do. I had always been involved in the arts in some form or another. In fifth grade I wrote in my yearbook that the profession I wished to have when 'grown up' (Does that ever happen? I hope not.) was that of a fashion designer. I had a little sketch book that I would draw designs in and mark out the types of fabric, etc. for each piece. Somewhere along the way that dream got lost.

In high school I began to get pulled into high fashion. I would spend hours after school pour over fashion and model sites on the internet. I even got so obsessed with the Balenciaga SS 2007 collection that I took a trip to the New York City store to get a glimpse of a dress I was lusting over. Of course, all the while I was setting sights on something 'real' and 'concrete' as a future major in university and furthered to illegitimize the creative world I longed for. So as you know, I entered school to study computer science and graduated. What I did manage to pick up along the way was an extremely wonderful internship at Diana Misetic where I got to work on her couture creations, some costume design classes, and time to work on my own sewing and accessory projects. In fact, the spring of my senior year I largely dedicated to sewing and crafting.

Shortly after graduation from university, I started to work for a well known IT company as a technical consultant. I jetted around the country spending four days a week in hotels and worked on projects that I thought could maybe, just maybe, make a small difference. At first it was exciting and I was more than happy to be in environment that fostered learning. But, soon I found myself trapped under the same unhappy rock I was under in college. This one was slightly different in that it involved being very lonely in hotel rooms, living off of an expense account that while nice, could never replace having a real kitchen or place to go back to and be able to do my hobbies in.

And so, last April I was at my lowest low. I had no idea what was going on in my life. I had literally gone mad. Yes, mad. Actually mad. I had completely lost control of my life and no longer understood who I was. I was depressed and to put the cherry on top of it all, was having a worrying medical problem that just added to the mess. By June I had to take time off to get my life back into shape. During this week, I took the first steps of my life 180 by cancelling the apartment lease that kept me tied to a place I could no longer be happy in. By July I started to crack, but this time, in a very good way. By August I had moved back to New York and by the first week in September I had sealed the deal on a dream job in the fashion industry.

At the end of October I found myself living in Los Angeles with a month to breath and be free of any work for the first time in ages. Today, I started my dream job. A job that finally would satisfy the analytical person I had grown into and the creative person I've always been. I am finally truly happy.

How was this all possible? To start, I lost it. Losing it was completely necessary for me to gain perspective on what was driving me to be actively making my life go in the opposite direction I wanted it to move in. After I discovered my limiters and began to take the metaphorical blinders off, I was finally able to clearly see my dream, shape it, and then eventually make it my reality. I know today is just the beginning of something big. I can only hope to make the exciting journey ahead of me one that is completely enjoyable. And yes, I mean completely because although there are setbacks, I know that there really is something great at the end of the tunnel if you dare to dream it.

I honestly wish you all the biggest and greatest dreams.

This blog post was a difficult one to write for several reasons. Firstly, it's extremely difficult to write about how your failures have created the foundation for you to fulfill your dream. Secondly, it's really hard to admit to yourself (and to the public, but mostly yourself) that you did, in a way, in fact fail... writing it down for the world to read makes it very real. Thirdly, this is an extremely personal post and personal posts aren't ones I ever really make. Lastly, I really struggled to encompass this story in a way that would make sense and I'm not sure I will honestly ever be able to fully explain what I have felt along the way.