Final Atomic Buster

I’ve been cleaning out my hard drive because my computer has been running SUPER slower. And in the process I’m uncovering all these wonderful memories. I think I’m going to share some of my favorites on the blog so that I can make sure I never loose them in the annals of my hard drive again.

This pieces is something I apparently titled Final Atomic Buster and it’s a total glimpse into my living situation in college. Even though I had my own apartment, I ended up unofficially moving into a house that my best friend from high school and three of his buddies shared. All musicians, all hilarious and it was definitely the best time of my life. I remember after this little moment happened I had an urge to document it exactly as it happened, and here is what I wrote…

Final Atomic Buster

The boys I lived with: (L-R) Matt, Erik, John, Oliver

The phone rings, there is a pause, an almost anxiety-ridden pause as Erik debates whether it’s worth the risk of letting Wolverine get struck down by U.S. Agent to answer the phone. After one more ring and with the finger dexterity of an Olympic video game athlete he pauses Street Fighter with one hand as he scoops up the portable phone, punching talk with the other.

“Buenas-ding-dong-didelee-dias!” He says, un-pausing his game. He cradles the phone in the crook of his shoulder and rests his elbows on his knees, feet planted firmly on the ground. The plastic clicking continues as he resumes his game and talks. “Oh hey Bram.” The drum case he’s seated on teeters on its edge as he leans over staring fixedly at the 13 inch TV sitting atop a small water warped coffee table. “Nah he’s not here right now… Oh really? Maybe… But I can tell you right now I probably won’t. But hey, look, I gotta’ go because I’m playing a video game. All right, peace.”

He does his quick pausing maneuver to hang up the phone, actually returns it to the cradle this time, and then resumes the game.

“Oh man, he killed me with a Final Atomic Buster!” he says to Oliver, who has come out of the bathroom shirtless with a foaming toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, to ask who had called.

“It was for John.”

“He’s not here?” He garbles around his toothbrush.

“Nah… Dude, Anita’s going to be here on Friday, we need to clean like crazy.” Erik said, taking his eyes away from the TV long enough to read the expected look of annoyance on his roommates face.

“Fuck dude, I hate Anita. She’s such a wenchy bitch.” Oliver said, plucking the toothbrush out of his mouth and glancing around the house in disgust.
“Whatever dude, you’re a wenchy bitch,” was Erik’s stock retort for most everything. Oliver walked back into the bathroom just as the front door opens.
John stands, tall and lanky, in the doorway. He sees Erik and smiles a wide toothy grin, “Hey guy.”

“Hey, wanna’ play?”

“Sure.” John strides into the living room and plops down on the green tattered carpet beside the drum case and Erik hands him the other controller.
They start playing in silence except for a few gasps and groans. Finally in a yell of triumph, Erik explodes up from his drum case perch and does a celebration dance. “I win dude, I totally killed your Asian chick ass.”

“Yeah man, you did. Congratulations dude.” John says nonchalantly as he looks up at his jubilant roommate.

Erik sits back down and says “Bram called for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Is all John replies.

“Yeah, wanted to know if you guys were rehearsing tomorrow.”

“Oh… anyone else call?”

“Yeah, you’re mom, like five times.”

John smiles, “she did?”

“Yeah. You really need to get a cell phone man.”

“No way. Cell phones are for republicans.” John says, getting up from the floor and walking through a curtain into his room.

John’s room is just the other half of the living room curtained off. Behind his beige Pier One curtains is an old beat up piano, perfectly in tune, a bookshelf full of cds and piles of papers littering the floor. Most of these piles are comprised of sheet music and artsy flyers announcing gigs for his jazz-funk trio. There is so much sheet music lying around that it’s easy to miss the twin size mattress on the floor that is John’s bed.

Currently the green sleeping bag that acts as John’s bed sheets is lying in a heap at the foot of the mattress covered in yesterday’s homework.

“Where ya been man?” Oliver calls out to John as he exits the bathroom.

“Oh you know, I slept in the practice room last night.”

“Dope.”

I never did get to finish it, I know I wanted to expand upon it and try to preserve those memories as much as possible. Perhaps someone came over unexpectedly and distracted me. Perhaps someone mentioned that someone was playing jazz somewhere and we all left the house to go. Who knows, but I loved reading at least this.

Pictures from graduation and the party!!!

Thanks to all of my friends that made it out to my grad party it was soooo great to have u there! Here are some photos from that amazingly surreal day… 

me and my parents infront of Tommy Trojan. SOOOOO sad to leave him behind.

More

Mid (Twenties) Life Crisis

What are you going to do after you graduate? What are you going to do after college? What are you going to do with your life? What are you going to do?...

What am I going to do? I have no idea. But as graduation day is rapidly approaching I am, oddly enough, not thinking so much about what I am going to do as much as I am thinking about what I have done. What have I done? For some reason I keep mulling over many un-accomplishments.

I am twenty-three years old and about to graduate college. I am reminded of the penetratingly discerning and sagacious, Jessica Simpson, who once said “Well, twenty-three is old! It’s almost twenty-five, which is almost mid-twenties!” And, I never thought I’d say this but, I know exactly what she means. As a child I remember thinking about how old people in their twenties were, I mean, they were adults! But at twenty-three, I don’t feel like an adult. I haven’t really done much of anything. So, in that way, I see absolutely no reason for Jessica Simpson to complain. In her “mid-twenties” she’s already famous and has accomplished more than most normal people do in their whole lives. She could die before she turns thirty and she would go down in history books… okay, fine, the “History of Pop Culture” history books, but documented nonetheless. But what about me? I am far from “documented.”

I am twenty-three which is almost twenty-five which is almost mid-twenties and I have nothing to show for myself. I have never even been out of my comfort zone. I was born and raised in Los Angeles, in the same house my parents bought when I was born. At two years old I met the girl who is still my best friend, who lived down the street. We went through the LA school systems together so I never had to worry about being alone. When I finally graduated high school I moved from my parents home to an apartment building in the same neighborhood, which was also owned by my father. And I got into a college that, practically, my whole family attended. The campus of which I had frequented so often that I had it memorized by the age of twelve.

I have done practically nothing with my life. Nothing out of the ordinary per se, never made the papers, never saved a life, and never discovered a cure for anything more life threatening than a hangover. In fact, my biggest accomplishment came and went before I even developed an attention span that lasted longer than a goldfish’s. When I was two months old I was cast as the baby of a newly married couple on the Soap Opera, Knot’s Landing. This was my first and last steady acting gig. I was, reportedly, fantastic. Of course, this report comes from close family and proud grandparents, so I can’t really vouch for the legitimacy of that praise. But anyway, the point is, like my birth, this was one of the only major occurrences of any importance and gravity in my life, and I don’t remember any of it.

Thinking back on my uneventful teenage years, it isn’t really any shock that the next major, impactful event in my life would be something as pathetic as a failed suicide attempt. Of course, I couldn’t even accomplish that! In high school I became severely depressed. I wasn’t very successful in school or in my family relations and I had just lost my first love. I felt my life was really not worth living. I tried to overdose on sleeping pills but ended up being driven to the hospital by my angered and terrified father. Thankfully I survived. Because during that week I spent recovering in the hospital I had what I called my “re-birth.” I had a bit of an epiphany and realized that I actually did want to live. I realized no matter how hard school was, it was better than living on the streets and working in McDonalds, (which was where my parents assured me I’d end up if I didn’t do my homework). I thought about my parents and how I was happy just to be their daughter, and I was glad that I was alive so that I could still be that. I left that hospital happier, healthier and stronger than ever and have only continued to be so from then on.

Aside from my lucky break in the acting business and learning a valuable lesson about life the hard way, the only other large accomplishment I have made was my acceptance into a college. That college from where I am about to graduate.

Getting into USC was a dream of mine since I was a little girl. But a dream was all I figured it was going to be. I barely graduated high school. I failed math, biology, history and even PE… twice! I ended up in a Junior College to make up for the units I missed in high school. While I was there, I thought, maybe USC didn’t have to be just a dream. For the first time in my life I decided to work hard towards a goal. I will never forget the moment I found out I had been accepted. For the first time in my life I had accomplished something, on my own merit, and it felt amazing. Now I just had to see if I could actually graduate this time!

I guess, looking back on it, I have come a long way. As a child I just had opportunities handed to me. I had an easy life. But as I grew older, I realized that I had to work to earn my privileges. I guess that’s why I tried to kill myself at one point, because I didn’t know how to work hard at anything. I guess it’s all right that my biggest accomplishment is about to happen in a month, when I graduate. My acceptance to USC was my first step to becoming an adult. I now see my graduation as my first day as an adult. I have come a long way. As a child, I never thought I would be a USC graduate, it seemed too good for me, it seemed to hard for me, it seemed too far away and unattainable. But here I am at twenty-three, about to receive a bachelors degree from USC. I’m twenty-three, almost twenty-four, which is almost mid twenties and I’m just starting my life. And I couldn’t be more optimistic.

my essay to get into USC…

The highlight of my career came and went before I can even remember. The teacher of my mother’s lamaze class was a casting agent and she said the first baby born in the class would be eligible for a role on a soap opera called “Knott’s Landing.” I must have been listening that day because I made it a point to be the first one born, even if I had to come earlier than expected to do so. I was on the show for a couple of years and from then on I got the acting bug. Since then all I’ve wanted to do is act.

I fell in love with classic cars when I was in junior high. My dad took me to the car shows and drag races in Pomona every year. We’d walk down the seemingly endless rows of glittering paint and shiny chrome covered cars and he would teach me all their names and all about the different kinds of engines. When he bought a new camera and gave me his old 35mm (I was in high school) it seemed only natural that I should take pictures of the things that I thought were beautiful; so I started schlepping the bulky camera to the car shows and began to snap away. That’s when I found my love of photography. Since then all I’ve wanted to do is take pictures.

My freshman year in high school I met the most influential person in my life. My English teacher, Glen Hirshberg, was the one that showed me that I could write. No, not the put a writing instrument to paper and make the symbolic pictures that translate into our language kind of writing, I learned that quite a bit earlier. But the kind of writing that turns into novels! The assignment was to write a story to coincide with a picture he gave us. I went home, sat down in front of the computer and all of a sudden, as if they were possessed, my fingers started dancing over the keys. Ideas came into my brain, which formed the words and sentences that were being projected onto the screen (much like what is happening now as I write this) and what I was writing was good. Before that moment the only writing I ever did was the night before an essay was due and it was bland, and it was uniform and it wasn’t very fun. And since then all I’ve wanted to do is write.

I have a passion for every mood I’m in. When I’m feeling withdrawn and wanting to be alone I can sit down at a computer or with a piece of paper and feel more than happy in my own mind writing for all I’m worth. When I’m feeling like being an extrovert and wanting to be the center of attention (which is most of the time) I can always rely on the theater. Where else can I be a different person any time I want? And when I feel like sitting back and just taking in the beauty of the entire world around me I take pictures as a way to connect to that beauty. This way I’m always happy because I always have a way to express myself. And really, all I’ve ever wanted to do is express myself.