My Anti Drug.

I've been feeling blurgh the last few weeks.  I did a whirlwind two weeks of wedding, running up to Portland, through Naselle/Astoria, back to Portland, working in LA three straight days, and red eye to Detroit for five days.  I was exhausted, and fell ill for the first week I was back.  I was bummed about the state of my acting pursuit, my putting it on hold while I travel all summer.... but really I think it's an excuse for the inevitable.  Im gearing up for the day that I meet with agents, managers etc and I get the:

 "there's just not a huge market for the sassy asian best friend.  are you willing to blow up your chest/whittle your waist/dye your hair blonde/hold products while scantily clad?"

It's the part of the industry I've been trying to avoid, and for now its been possible to just take classes, feed my enjoyment, and pretend like it's all just for fun.  The truth of the matter is, if I'm gonna be serious about this, I gotta be willing to hear a lot of nonsense.  I've already advanced in my class, and have been moved to the advanced acting class.  I gotta make something happen soon.  Gulp.

So my medicine for dealing with self pressure and self loathing is getting outside.  I gotta make the time to galavant about in the hills.  There's a reason why Hollywood is where it is.  So that all of the tightly wound industry types can unclench and gain some perspective.

Love Love Love.

Announcement:

Alright friends,

I am officially starting the campaign for everything and everybody I love to move to Portland, OR.  I had not spent any real time there since high school, but I got the chance to bookend the wedding extravaganza last month with a few days in the Rose City.  I am so much in love, lust, infatuation.

Its everything I love about the Northwest.

You know you want it....

Top Ten Things I Love About Portland

10.  It's green.  see above as evidence.  lush lush lush

9.  No sales tax.  So no one pays a penny over 499.99 for that tent at REI that I like.  In general, things were just not expensive.  Amy and I ran over the river to catch a last minute flick and I'm pretty sure we paid $4.25 for admission.  LA movie tix?  That'll be 18 bucks.  Woof.

8. It's active.  Every poster on the telephone pole is advertising cycling, road races, raft trips, etc etc.  Delicious.

7.  Foodie.  So much good, whole, food to be had there.  I spent quite a few days there, I didn't see one chain restaurant.  When you eat with me, you discover my disdain for national chains.  I just don't think eating at one is ever an event.  Run to Chipotle when I'm starved?  Yes.  But eating at a chain in a new place is like going to the pool with a skateboard.  Pointless and stupid.

6.  Portland is the perfect size.  It's big enough to have Nordstrom, small enough to not have major traffic.  Superhero Amy got me to the airport in 12 minutes.  At 1800.  Wonderful.

5.  HOW EASY IS IT TO COMMUTE THERE?!  I understood the Max rail system and buses on the first day there.  I could live there without a car quite easily.  Of course I never would, because there are too many fun places around the city to explore.  And I would have to roadtrip to Seattle a lot.

4.  Music, art, crafts.  Bohemian haven.  Saturday market happens week with tons of jewelry and tutus. My sister bought me a custom tutu there a few weeks back, I wear it to vacuum.

3.  Lifestyle.  People are laid back to a fault.  I don't mean to alarm anyone, but I was feverishly attracted to the homeless man hanging out outside of Stumptown Coffee our first day there.  Portland makes deadbeat look good.

2. A river runs through it.  Literally.  Willamette river (phew, janni!),  right through.  Isn't that delightful?!  I always loved that film, and I love bridges.  River, city, bridges, delight.

1.  Donald Miller, who wrote Blue Like Jazz, lives there.  When reading that book, I felt like he was seeing into my soul.  Any man who understands people like that, I wanna be where they are.  My Aunt Terry says that she thinks about moving to Portland just so she could go to his church.  Me too, Aunt Terry.  Me too.

Go play, people!

Hey AARP! Call me!

What is the minimum age requirement to embark on this activity?!  I'm ready riiiiight meow.  As I passed this beautiful mode of adventure, the sweetest couple emerged from it, laughing and chasing each other around it like a chinese fire drill.
Sigh.

Play Like A Champion!

another word about being a friend of mine:  don't you ever mention your goals to me unless you're ready for me to make you do it.

stace told me a few months ago that she had started running, and was inspired by a friend of hers (ours! what up KE!) who made a NY's resolution to run a 5K every month.  Well isn't that just adorable?

of course, we had all been wrapped up for the month of June with the wedding of the century.... but that's no excuse to shirk on your commitments.

on vacation?  no problem.  I will make you run your first 5K on vacation.  the two of us and the dog.... in the middle of nowhere.

of course, i will also take responsibility for being a pain in the ass.  after our run, we were gazing at the lazy river running through Naselle, WA when stace proclaimed "you should have to jump in for making me do this."

Well, by all means, my ass jumped in the river.  Freezing.  Worth it.

Soggy.  Love Love Love.

backstory.

{before the hair disaster and time crunch: psht, I dont need food.  I'm great.}

So, as you might imagine, there were definitely some tears, sniffling, and choking up throughout that performance.  and, of course, I'm talking about me.

But the other half of the story is one that illustrates the timeline of a wedding day.

On the actual day,  there are just not enough minutes.  I had never been THAT involved in a wedding before; there was hair to be done, I had to run to get flowers last minute, the bride and I tag teamed her makeup, and oh yeah.  the hair situation was a disaster.  most everybody had to get their hair re-done, and I was just anal enough for the job.  this, of course, is all on top of getting dressed, showering, etc etc for an army of people.

The only reason why all of this is relevant is so that you understand that I didn't have anything to eat ALL day.

In fact, the first time I got to even really sit down without an impeding task was when the ceremony was over, while the wedding party was  all in the party bus, waiting for the bride and groom to take their photos.

Know what happens when the boys get put in charge of stocking the party bus?  Gin and pretzels.  Heavy on the gin.  So by the time we rolled up to the reception, my world was swimming around me.  I don't really recall performing the dance that I choreographed, or sitting down and eating dinner.

Cut to toast time: the wedding planner gracefully approaches me, puts one hand on my shoulder to steady my body and says "we're doing toasts.  are you ready?"

"uh, hell no.  I need like.... chwenty meenutes.  aaaand shome wadah.    aaaaaand for everyone to hold still so I can shee shtraight...."  

quelle trainwreck.   she leans me up against a wall and flits off, to return with a handful of dinner rolls.

"eat these.  NOW.  you're on in fifteen."

So.  I think there's another toast in order.  Here's to me, and the fact that I rallied enough to not make an ass of myself in front of 200 of the glittering couple's closest friends and family.

 yeeaaaaah. the toast was a triumph for me. Doncha want me to toast at your nuptials, too?

Love Love Love.

just a small town girl.

{the morning of}

SO. One of my best friends got married last month.  I have seen her and her 'band through so many years, there are so many stories I could tell here in honor of this couple.  However, I did give a toast, and maybe that would be the best way to acknowledge the event.  

"Hi everybody.  So, we are all here today to celebrate Sheriann and Peter.  To be clear, however, I would like to state for the record that I was Sheriann’s original soulmate.  We met at Gonzaga, sort of by accident, but quickly discovered all of these things that we had in common.  We understand each other in such a kindred way, and I feel like it’s only right that her soulmate get to tell their story here.  

So, it wasn’t long after becoming soulmates that I noticed Sheriann’s weird pen pal relationship.  We would be trying to go somewhere, and she would always make us late because she was IMing someone.  Well, who the HELL is AFROSQUAD84?!  Well, the story finally came out that she had met this guy Peter on this trip on high school, and they talk a lot.  They would joke about how they should eventually get married.  They addressed each other by really cheesy pet names and were each other’s standing drunk dial.  ie, called each other after late nights out, drunk and stumbling home.  This charade went on for years through college, and I was always there, of course to provide commentary and roll my eyes.

As our years at Gonzaga came to an end, it was clear that neither one of us was leaving our college experience with Prince Charming in tow.  Sher, however, still had Peter.  They were talking more and more, both drunk AND sober and plane tickets were added to the equation.  That’s when it occurred to me that this was getting serious and I started joking that of the two of them actually did get married, I would have to sing Journey’s epic ballad “Dont Stop Believing” as my toast, because it only seemed appropriate.  After all, we have this small town girl, living in a lonely world; and the city boy, born and raised in well, north Detroit.  But now that she’s actually in the white dress, and we are at this classy affair, I will spare them both that performance, and instead say this:  to the rest of the world, Peter and Sheriann, were doomed from the start.  They were raised in completely different settings, have completely different careers, and completely different families.  They have never lived in the same city, and they have never vacationed together.  But despite all of this, to Sheriann, Peter was always non negotiable.  He was a given, and throughout all of these years, she always believed that someday they’d end up right here.  So, on this day, I relinquish my title as Sheriann’s soulmate to this man here. So if you would all raise your glasses-  To Sheriann and Peter: 

May they never stop believing; may they always hold on to this feeling.    


Link to the incredible Wedding photos via Andria Lindquist

No Follow Through, and Damn Proud.

Can you read that plate cover?  It reads "UC Davis- FORMER STUDENT". 

Not "ALUMNI"

Not "MOM"

Not "GO MASCOT!" ...please, like I know what UC Davis' mascot is.

Former student.  So, this person is proudly displaying insignia upon his/her vehicle, that he/she took a few classes, mingled with a few coeds, and then dropped out and went about their misguided young adulthood.  

Huh.  Well ok. 

 "America: Where You Can Brag About Anything."

Now You Listen Here.

Let it be known that I do not accept any kind of patheticism.  When you're friends with me, I demand positivity.  If you can't deliver, I will verbally abuse you as in above, and probably sing you inspirational songs.  Just another warning.

follow up.

So, this is the kind of torture a prudent bridesmaid subjects herself to after negligent sun exposure, as evidenced below.  Let it be known that the last time I entered a tanning bed, (ahem, cancer rocket) was pre 9-11.  Boy have times changed.  The perky adolescent working the counter slathered me in some tropical smelling, soy based, brown tinged lotion, and shoved me into a stand up tanning bed.  She instructed me to put these cone shaped stickers over my eyes and hold on to the railings on both sides.  I pushed the start button, and was time warped through reality into the Matrix.  I'm serious, it was trippy in there.  The lights run in tight vertical columns, shine bright green, and have mirrors filling the space between them.  there's a hand rail on either side of you, and I may or may not have used the 12 roasting minutes in there to flex my biceps against them and try to monkey bar across the booth.  Well what the hell else are you supposed to do?!

addendum: I had to follow up this experience with another session at a mom and pop tanning place in little ol' Astoria, OR.  The very leathery elderly man at the counter, upon hearing that I hail from LA, declared that he was throwing me in the "cooker".... you know, because that's the one he uses.  Oy.