Wow. An assignment from a dear reader. That is a first. I'll give it a go.

Introspective Retrospective: A Reflection

Looking back on these last 5 years of blogging, I don't regret ever starting a blog in the first place, in fact, I highly commend myself for doing so, and any others that do the same. The idea for the blog came after my first website went up in sophomore year of college. It was summer, I was at summer school in San Diego, and not many friends were around, so blogging became a way for me to easily update any news to my website, as well as an outlet for me to stop talking to myself so much since no one was around...yea...sad but true.

When I started, I never really thought the relationship would last this long. After all, my first, second, and third website have since died...yet this blog lives. And when I refer to my blog as a relationship, you might think its funny, but it truly has been a relationship for me. Not in the traditional physical tangible relationship way. But the same way you share a day's events with a boyfriend or girlfriend, or catch up with a friend you haven't seen in a while, I do through this blog. In sharing things about me on this blog, I'm able to share myself with the masses through a cloak of invisibility. And a relationship is all about sharing right? And commitment. 5 years is a long time. Alot happens in 5 years. And, granted, I haven't blogged on a daily basis since the inception of Daily Banterings, I haven't completely given up on it either.

I get different things out of my blog at different times. Right now, what I feel like I'm getting the most out of blogging is a RECORD. I'm starting to realize that I tend to have an awful memory, and by blogging about things, no matter how little and insignificant they may be, the entries serve as my brain, part of my past, history. I enjoy going back and reading the things I've forgotten about. And the idea of that is probably total anti-buddhist...but then again, I'm not a buddhist, and its my blog, so I can do anything I want. But I think (if I have it correctly), Buddhism teaches about living in the present. Being aware of the present. Not having any possessions, which also equates to not holding on to the past. But, its not like I'm holding on to the past by recording it in my blog, I just enjoy visiting the past from time to time. Maybe that's why it's called FOND memories, and not awful horrific memories.

Other times, I just need an audience, a soapbox. If I have something to bitch about, I want to do it for an audience, not just for myself, otherwise, I don't think it'd be bitching, it'd be just mental thoughts. I think I have a set core audience of 3-5 readers, which is enough for me, but the idea of the internet reaching the south pole is quite intriguing to me. The possibility of strangers landing on this blog is a scary, yet exciting thought. I often wonder about my audience. Whether I should keep certain things under wraps for fear that someone is going to find this blog and be able to read all about me. But it's not really for others. I don't blog for other people, I like to think that I blog for my own benefit, and the audience is just an added value feature.

I also blog to try to keep my mental juices flowing. I wouldn't say that blogging is a creative outlet for me...it's more of just thoughts pouring out of my head. I think once in a blue moon I'll try to get creative with my blog, but, I'm not writing the great american novel here. My fingers are just taking dictation from my brain.

As fun as it can be though, I'm often paralyzed by blogging. I don't know what it is. Perhaps fear. Fear of people knowing more about me than I really want. Fear of becoming mundane and trite....and of becoming the type who uses the words "mundane" and "trite" together in one sentence. Laziness. Lack of vocabulary and eloquence to say everything that I'm thinking or feeling. People are made real by words, yknow? You could be feeling sad or ecstatic on the inside, but that existence of being sad or ecstatic doesn't come into being until you put it into words. I guess you can look at someone crying and know that they're sad without them having to say so. But once they do, that makes it even more real. Once it's put into words, it becomes real, there is no room for doubt as to whether that person is sad or not, because they have just said or written that they are. It's like...ok, here comes another one of my analogies. It's like when you're being beamed on the starship. Yes, ala Startrek. (Insert nerd joke here.) So everyone is walking around and existing as a glittery half-there hologram with all their thoughts and feelings that they think and feel UNTIL you put a feeling or thought into words. That's when you're completely beamed over to the otherside...when you materialize. Words materialize people. It validates the intangible...

I don't know, you could probably argue with that point. I'm open to any other views.

Yarrrrr...A happy TLAP Day to thee....

Sometimes I wonder if I should take up smoking.

Ok, no, of course not. First of all, all my money is already going to the coffee addiction, not nicotine, though I've heard the combination is a great one.

Second of all, people who smoke are way cool, and I'm only semi cool, and that semi part only exists in my head some of the time, but that's all that matters right? And I know there's some of you out there going, no way, smoking isn't cool. It's so gross and digusting. Ugh. But you're wrong. Despite what your parents, D.A.R.E officers, and PSAs have told you, smoking is kick ass cool. Probably not as cool as a healthy liver, but really...have you ever met a smoker that wasn't cool? I mean, they could be the meanest, rudest, or sweetest people ever, but they have something that non smokers don't have: an air of coolness.

Y'know that episode of Friends (yes, Friends) where Rachel takes up smoking in order to get promoted? Well...the writers totally had that right on the nose. Smokers have excuses to take breaks. They can all instantly bond because they share a love for a magical white stick. It's like they're all in this special club together that non smokers would never understand. And by the way, we do understand, we just choose not to. You can hit on someone taking a smoke outside a bar, because you know they're not going to complain about you smoking. You can share something intimate with your boss over a drag and be in line for promotion the next day. You can meet random strangers and hot chics and hot guys that would never talk to you outside the smoking circle, but since you're a member of the club, they'll give you that one chance, and vice versa. All this over a pinch of dead turf rolled up with some paper. It's amazing, it really is.

If only there was a way to get into the club without adhering to the beliefs and practices of said club. And forget about those candy cigarettes...not enough flavor, not enough bubble.

If only there was a way to make coffee drinking as cool...but I think Starbucks ruined that chance for all of us...damn Starbucks....(no, I don't really mean that, I love you).

Arrrr......

I missed the first orchestra rehearsal. And it really bums me out to know that I'll miss all the other orchestra rehearsals. I really feel like playing, but alas, there is no where for me to practice. What a bummer. Hopefully by next year I can get back in the swing of things again.

It seems as though I'm running into people from the past everywhere! This past saturday, I ran into a friend from Highschool. Had not seen him in years, and suddenly, BAM! we were standing there chatting, directly in front of a possible stampede path of death by a red elephant. He remembered me, and the elephant did not charge. I am thankful for both.

And then last weekend, while at the grove with the relatives, I ran into a friend from college. My film partner in crime. He definitely recognized me, but sadly did not seem to recall my name. Totally understandable...I did pretty much sneak up on him without warning. But still.

Now what does this mean? All these people from my past, now emerging out of nowhere? Ok ok, granted, it was only 2 people, and I wouldn't be surprised if I don't hear from them again until the next random run in, but 2 in two weeks seems like something of significance...doesn't it? Or maybe I'm just looking too much into things. OR! Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something. Maybe it wants me to go back in time by bringing people from my past into my now to slowly adjust myself to something, of which I will find out exactly what when it happens. First a college friend. Then a highschool friend. What's next, someone from elementary school? Ok, if that happens, that'll definitely be a sign. Until then, I'm just gonna keep cool...and flip my collars up for effect.

I recently rewatched In the Mood For Love. And while I was watching, I remembered that the first time I saw the movie was back in highschool with my parents...still just a kid. I remember that I totally lost interest in the movie, and never finished it. Probably partly because I couldn't understand what they were saying, and the chinese subtitles were going too fast for me to read.

Fast forward to now, rewatching the movie for the 5th or 6th time...just thinking that it's brilliant. The subtleties, the concept, the acting, the music...all of it combined together, it's all just brilliant, and I get it, and understand it (partly because now I have the version with ENGLISH subtitles) on a much deeper level. It's really one of my favorites.

But rewind back to me in highschool, I remember thinking, man, this is one of those artsy fartsy movies that rich people sit around to watch and say is brilliant just so they can seem smarter than they really are. This movie is a bunch of nonsense.

So doing all this thinking about the movie led me to wonder: would my kid self approve of my adult self? And I even hesitate to say adult, because I really don't feel like one yet. I guess more mature would be better. If I, as a 16 year old, could see myself now, as a 25 year old, would I be proud? Or would I be disappointed? And if I, as a 25 year old right now, could see myself as a 40 year old, what would I think of her?

When I was in highschool, I wanted to be a musician. A professional musician. I wanted to play in the philharmonic, or for broadway shows, or cirque du soleil (I got introduced to it in highscool...) And now, looking back, it really wouldn't have worked for many many reasons. But if I were to tell my younger self what I'm doing now, before I knew what I know now, would my younger self be pissed at me now?

Ok ok. Let's just cut to the chase. I haven't been blogging. And I can't give you the reasons why without sounding like a total flake, so I won't.

Well, ok. One of the reasons is just that I feel like my creative blogging juices are slowly draining away from me. And all that's left is the crappy pulp stuff...which they say is good for you, but without the juice, is really just dry crap if you ask me. But wait, don't pull out your violins yet...I'm willing to work on it and keep blogging.

I've realized that aside from entertaining audiences with my banter, blogging is also a good way for me keep a record of things that are going on in my life. So let's get started, eh?

I saw boobies. Well, "a" (singular) boob.

Let's backtrack yea?

Couple weeks ago I took my parents to the Hollywood Bowl, since they've never been. We had a nice time, and as we got back to the Hollywood and Highland complex, we decided to stop at the restrooms before heading for our car. So while I was waiting for both my parents to come out, these group of girls came out. These...I can't even call them girls...they're more than teens, but less than women. I guess they are women, but they were just all so....so giggly. Oy. Not that there's anything wrong with giggly, but there were loud, obnoxious giggly, and wearing skirts that looked like they were painted on.

I watched them with disgusted amusement. Was I jealous of these girls with their low cut shirts and big boobs and perfect hair walking sexily in their high HIGH heels? These sorority sisters about to begin their night of drunken who knows what with god knows who, while I was ending my night with...the parents. I think I can honestly say no, I wasn't jealous. To be honest, watching them in action took alot of energy out of me, and frankly, I just don't have that kind of pep in me.

But still....I watched them from afar, wondering what life would be like under all that makeup and tight clothes and "like, ohmigod!" coming out of my mouth with ease. I never did that in college. Maybe I should've...just to be able to say I did that. But really...unless you're a cheerleader by nature, who can DO THAT? I see myself as Eeyore by nature...and Eeyore will never be Tigger.

But I digress...

So this girl with the huge boobs...she's laughing and chatting with her girls, and fixing and retying her low cut halter when suddenly, her bare boob falls out for...not even a split second...it was much longer than that, yet she didn't seem to notice. What seemed like a minute later...she finally looked down and said, oops! And covered it back up. Even though I was in plain sight, I didn't bother looking away. I just stared. It's always interesting to see someone elses' boob.

All in all, it was a fruitful night: John Williams, movie music, and a Boob. Not too shabby.

That's it for tonight. Join me next time for...well, you'll just have to come back and find out.