Tag Archives: hollywood

what humans could be.

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The past few weeks have been uplifting and heartbreaking all at the same time. I’ve kept quiet because every time I write something pertaining to the police brutality or the killings in Pakistan or really, all over the globe, or the beheadings of journalists…I just don’t know how to say all I’m feeling and wishing and hoping. So I stay quiet, and I try to do best by the people I interact with every day, because I feel like that’s all I can do.

But I’ve been reading and listening a lot. I find when something makes me emotional, reading others’ opinions on the facts always shows me that people at the root of it, are good, and they have similar feelings to me, and they make me think, and that, if nothing else, helps calm my soul.

So here’s an article that just calls it like it is about Hollywood. Here’s a quote that really meant something to me, “You’re telling me no Mexicans are qualified to do anything at a studio? Really? Nothing but mop up? What are the odds that that’s true? The odds are, because people are people, that there’s probably a Mexican David Geffen mopping up for somebody’s company right now. The odds are that there’s probably a Mexican who’s that smart who’s never going to be given a shot.”

And here’s another thing: every Friday, at 7:25 (ish), my local NPR station (what what KPCC!) plays a Story Corps podcast. Most Fridays, I am in the car at this time, waiting for the moment, and nine times out of ten, it makes me cry – because humans are awful, or because humans are compassionate, or because humans are just so cruel/amazing/the worst. Now, usually I just tear up, but I’ll tell you something, this story just made me sob.

Because you guys,  how awesome is it that this air force colonel not only went with the idea that he was Santa, but he also called the radio station to say that the AIR FORCE WAS SEEING A SLEIGH. That, my friends, is just amazing. So many people in this world do really important life changing stuff, but sometimes it’s just how you treat others (whether they’re children or not) that is what you’re remembered for.

Also let’s take a minute for Serial being over.

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But seriously, go listen to RadioLab to fill the void. Just as interesting, usually with better endings (no offense to Sarah, we knew what we were getting ourselves into.)

At the end of a long week, at the end of a rambling blog post about many things large and small, I am signing off to go to bed to catch a plane to Chicago to see the family. I hope that you’re having a good holiday season, and that you can take some time to reflect on the events of humanity and just, for a second, breathe deep and help out a fellow human. I wish, as always, for peace this season.

all the things, baby, that we could be

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I’m running a 10k on Saturday. It’s the same one I ran two years ago with a gaggle of friends. Per the usual, I’ve been sick on and off, and traveling, and I have a blog, and a life, and I like a home cooked dinner and a relaxing Sunday, and usually I’d rather be doing yoga, and all that balance and stuff, so I haven’t trained 100 percent to the schedule. I was discussing this with my dad the other day, and he sounded worried. “Don’t worry, Dad, I’m not Nikki. I won’t push myself too hard,” I proclaimed.

In case you don’t know my sister, she’s the champion of competitive – if you think I am competitive, you’ve got another thing coming. She is the first to beat the heck out of a PR, I’ve seen her train for a triathlon that I at first laughed at (Nikki, swim a mile in open ocean?!), and if you tell her she can’t do something watch out because unless it’s pay attention to someone for a LONG time, she’ll not only DO it, she’ll do it BETTER than you.

Which, this is all to say I used to be like that, but no longer. I am pretty competitive, but at the end of the day I find victory in not over stressing about something that is self imposed (like, say, running a 10k in December.) I used to obsesses over races and psych myself out to the point of being so stressed about a race that it just wasn’t enjoyable (Unlike Nikki, who managed to get the competitive genes and also all the mellow genes). But I’ve chilled over the past couple of years, and I know this: I can move my body 6.2 miles, whether it’s running or not.

So I will go, I will run it, I will hopefully beat my 10k PR, and if not, eh, and then hopefully someone will feed me brunch.

Tonight I went out on my last run before the big one, and it was just a quick (ha! that’s a lie, never let runners tell you anything is that quick) two miles. I figured I would take my 10k playlist for a run and see how it went, and I would try to truly run the whole two miles (I almost always stop for a little walk/death in the middle of my runs, usually up the one hill I’ve decided to incorporate into my route.)

It didn’t go as planned. Instead of running the whole time, I got stopped for a few minutes when a stranger asked for directions. It always baffles me how often this happens to me (I do life in Hollywood, so there are tourists, but still) when I am RUNNING. But I guess people see a runner and figure they must live somewhere around here, and therefore can help them out? Anyways, needless to say I was a little bummed but I still ran a pretty consistent pace and managed a PR for this training.

And so, tomorrow will be yoga, and an early bedtime, and Saturday will be Santas and lots of families and racers for the Venice Holiday run. And I will finish. And if someone stops me for directions, I won’t sweat it. And then, brunch.

bowling and Dustin Hoffman

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Last night I went bowling with Becca and some co-workers. Becca and I walked from my house, and went the more populated route, through Hollywood and Highland, where most tourists head in Los Angeles. (Along the way I said to Becca, “I smell daffodils!” to which she said, “Well it’s almost spring.” Yes, yes it is, in LA.)

On the way, there were tons of people out and some kind of premiere happening at the Chinese Theater. Turns out it was actually for Luck, with Dustin Hoffman, who happened to be standing across the street. I resisted my urge to pull out my phone and snap a shot, as dozens of other people were doing, because I so wanted to disguise myself as someone from LA who doesn’t care about that type of thing. But boy, do I love Dustin Hoffman.

Then we headed to the alley, where I became forever known as “Bossy.” Are we surprised? After all, it is my boss’s nickname for me.

 After bowling, we walked home (as I joked about the fact that I had earlier said I needed to stop home for a coat, only to get out of the car and realize it was 70 degrees…) Becca and I stopped at the shoe store to see if they had anything cute. (In the shoe store, we stopped to look at some neon shoes, to which Becca said, “Well it’s almost summer!” Yes, that’s true in LA, too.)

Only in LA, I guess, do you see Dustin Hoffman, go bowling, and go shoe shopping in one night…