Eva's Cube Revisited

Photo: My boss was the mastermind.

Me & Misses Jones

Emotional Exhibitionist, please make your way to the stage…

It’s probable that my love affair with Bridget Jones (and her diary) is derived by the eerie (and feminine) commonalities reflected between her character and myself. No, I’m not blond and pudgy; but I am (or can be) a bit: neurotic, obsessive, emotional, weak, strong, and purveyor of cinematic romance (or at least the prospect of having one). But unlike Miss Jones, I’m equipped with something she never had during her stint as a single woman: content-ness.

Bridget was always waiting, dreaming, and longing even ~ for the next big thing. She wanted a better job. She wanted Daniel Cleaver. Then she wanted Mark Darcy. When they finally coupled, she waited and waited for him to propose his hand in marriage! You see, she was always waiting for the next big thing! All the while afraid that it would never come.

And how am I different? Because on average, I acknowledge at least 10 moments a day that I consider being perfect. I don’t need to wait for the next big thing to feel as though my life is worth more than can be appraised.

Albeit that the milestone’s in her life were quite grandiose… but for me, milestones come in the form of a first kiss, a warm embrace, handwritten letters, a bid I won on e-bay, the purchase of form fitting jeans under $30, extra long hand shakes, and a therapeutic ice cream sundae…

I’m still on the lookout for the next big thing… but I’m elated along the way…

The Office

Photo: Welcome to my Cubiquarium.

If there's one thing we're damn good at, it's playing practical jokes on one another at work. When Eva (and Janice, or Ja-mean) left for corporate headquarters, she came back to find that her cube had been turned upside down...

Phase 1: Oblivious


Phase 2: You just got punked! Let's zoom in, shall we?


I love it. You can see teeth, tongue, and every daaamn thang.

Jesus Take The Wheel

I've been feeling incomplete the past couple of months. I often entertained this debt by thinking it could be fixed if I just "found someone to love" or "bought my Mercedes" or what have you. But I finally admitted that what I was longing for most, was to work on my relationship with Christ.

The Lord has been good because he's given me friends who serve as channels to get back onto the right path. I can't express how grateful I am for these people. Traco, Lamar, Mommy.

So mom and I went to a "new" church for the first time on Sunday, and I'm proud to say that I've found a new home. From the moment I stepped out of my car, I took in a breath of fresh air. Everything about the church felt so right: the seats were comfortable, the lighting was perfect, the center stage was eye catching, the congregation was beaming, everyone was clapping and grasping their individual copies of the Holy Bible. I felt as though the sermon spoke directly to me; addressing issues I've been struggling with in my own life. It felt so good to be attending a service that spoke of the very thing that I am strongly passionate about: Christ, with no fluff.

This isn't something that happened over the course of one night... it's not something someone pressured me into... not something I was influenced into doing... or forced to do by my parents. This has been on my mind for months now. Especially now that I am grown, I can decide for myself what church to attend, or what belief system I want to guide my life with. People are always surprised when they come to learn that I have a strong passion for Christ ~ especially since I haven't been the most pious of Catholics... but I've always believed in his sacrifice and his love - ALL of my life; and I do try hard to be a good person.

I've been longing for a strong support system in terms of my Christian faith, and I think I've finally found it. I want to get as involved as possible with this church... hopefully through one of its many ministries. It will allow me to grow as a person and improve on my relationship with God. And as much as I adore my friends, my job, and have great times with my coworkers, this will allow me to get away from all of that ~ it's something new, something different, something to provide an escape... on top of aiding in my role as a Christian.

Needless to say, I've found a new home. A new calling. As if I've been... born again.

Starbucks

Written on my venti no whip cafe mocha...

The Way I See It #78

My inspiration for writing comes from
the mundane details of my day.
I hear a song in the hum of the
New York subway, in the drops of rain
on the city street,
in the buzz of overheard
conversations in a crowded park.
The aim of my songwriting is to
translate these ordinary,
everyday moments into something
transcendental and universally inspiring.
John Legend

Funny how an empty cup can fill me up so much on the inside.

Pacific Life Open

http://www.pacificlifeopen.com/

We voyaged out into Indian Wells last Wed. to watch Sharapova rock Groenefeld's world, after a friend's friend scored us six tickets for the big night. As most men would agree, Sharapova was hot like fire! We watched the Blake v. Haas game too.. but had to make a quiet exit because it was past 10pm, we had a 1 hour and 10 minute drive ahead of us, there were still talks of having dinner (we were hongry!), and I had to be awake at 5:20am the next morning for work.. oh the life of a grown woman.

All picture credits go to Catherine and her one helluva Canon.

Photos: Groenefeld v. Sharapova (latter pics are of James Blake)

V for Vendetta

I took a 4.5 hour power nap after work to make certain that I’d be alert throughout the entire 11:15pm showing of V for Vendetta ~ and now it's 3am & I can’t fall asleep! Well worth it, however, because the movie was frickin' awesome. It’s funny to go back and read reviews about the movie.. because the bad ones (which make up about 30% of the reviews) are all written very poorly ~ one went as far as to describe the movie as “gay” – which, pardon me for cracking up, isn’t very professional or cohesive at all. Not at all to say that those who didn't like it don't have true respect for the arts ~ because it is, afterall, a matter of preference.. but for me personally (and 70% of the critics), I was able to appreciate all that the movie had to offer: a plot which was both different and actually good (finally!), a twist, good acting, visual complexities, and of course, Natalie.

I can now cross this movie off of my 'to-do' list.

If You Could Relive One Hour of Your Past

VERSION 1

Message: What time are you going to be there?
Reply: I’m here now.

Less than 10 minutes later, she saw him walk in. She noticed immediately that he had changed out of the shirt and jeans of earlier that evening, and into the gray blazer she often preferred him in. “Something more appropriate for the night,” she thought. He looked amazing. He held up his hand to signal “one minute” into her direction, as he was obligated to pause and converse with some acquaintances who had stopped him on the way in.

She wasn’t very fond of those acquaintances. Actually, she wasn’t very fond of one woman in particular, who had been vying for his attention during the past few days. She saw him pointing in her direction and was immediately perplexed, “Why are they all looking over here?” she mumbled under her breath. Her friends had been sitting beside her, trying to decipher body language and lip movement. And in an attempt to stop herself from watching him.. staring at him.. she got up gracefully and walked over to the bar.

“One Guinness please.”

“Hey Ro, what are you getting?” It was him.

He stood so close to her that she could feel her hair rise, as each individual goose bump began to form on her arm. He mimicked her posture as he folded his hands together and placed his elbows firmly onto the bar. So close that their shoulders touched, and by turning her head slightly to the right, their eyes tunnel visioned at point blank range.

“A Guinness,” she said with a smile.

As he told her how hungry he was, the bartender handed her a pint ~ to which she mentally chanted “Do not spill do not spill,” over and over again in her head.

"I'll see you back at the table," she whispered, as she took her hand and made a conscious maneuver to brush it down his arm. She could tell by his smile, that he had been charmed.

Her friends were eager for her return, as they sat dying to tell her that the woman at the other table stormed out of the bar after watching him stand beside her. Her friends learned that the reason for the “pointing” and “looking” that took place just ten minutes before, was because he was telling the woman, “I’m having dinner at that table with her tonight.”

He returned.

He took off his blazer… and she couldn’t help but stare at his arms, hands, face. “You looked like a lovesick puppy,” her friend told her later that night, “you both just kept staring into one another’s eyes, and the rest of us wanted to leave.”

She had to go now.

“I’ll call you when I’m done here,” he said with a look of anxiety on his face. He had to stay. He had to entertain new friends that just walked in. He did not want to.

“Okay,” she said, as she turned to walk away. She turned to catch one last glance at him and was shocked to find him already looking into her direction. “Nice,” she softly whispered, “nice.”

Later that night: She checked her phone… one missed call?

“I wish I could’ve gone with you tonight,” she listened as she stood outside the double doors of her place. She was biting her bottom lip, but her mind was doing cartwheels.

I'm Older Than I Look

As the timeless saying goes, “Age is only a number.”

Up until now, I’ve never been compelled to prove my maturity to anyone about anything. While my attitude has always been “take me as I am,” I can’t help but question my actions that affirm and echo a morbidly painful song which screams, “I’m not a girl. Not yet a woman.”

Is it possible to remain the ideal blend of both ~ considering it’s impossible to find a fit in just one?

At family gatherings I am 12 again. It doesn’t help that my aunts still refer to my cousins and I as “mga bata,” or “the children,” even if we’re all grown men and women. I am 12 when we sit at the dinner table and rehash the funniest moments to develop from the times we used to camp at Yosemite. I am 12 when someone breaks my heart, and all I want to is scream, cry, and ask the universe, “why me?!”

I am 12 when I tackle my dog and tickle his paws; 12 when I sing Whitney Houston in the shower; when I rest my head on my mother’s lap; when I tell my father 'daddy I love you'; when I tell lame jokes to others & end up being the only one in hysterical laughter.

When I wake up for work on Monday mornings, I am 22 again. Sitting in a business meeting with professionals who are significantly older than myself, I am 30. When I pay bills, manage my money, sip my 3rd cup of coffee, purchase a cocktail dress, articulate my thoughts into graceful words, decide what new vehicle to purchase, or choose what furniture to place in a room ~ there is no sign of a 12 year old girl.

12 in the way I develop a crush, 22 in the way that I love, 30 in the way that I kiss.

Not too young to know when it’s time to be serious. Not too old to have fun – even if ‘fun’ meant that my actions were a bit juvenile in the eyes of someone else.

Best Part of Today

"arithmetical" [air-ith-metic-ull]

Yvonne: uh-rith-muh-tickle?

Why I found that so funny? I do not know. But it made me smile. Even as I sit here now... I chuckle. Note: the only way to alleviate the tension in a business meeting is to get up and do the wave (even if there's only 7 of you).

Paris Blues

Good friends are like a good pair of jeans. When you find a pair that fits you just right, you form a loyalty with it. For the first few months, those jeans stand out amongst the rest of your wardrobe. You wear them to special occasions: dates, parties, or casual Friday. You watch your step to make sure that the edges don’t fray, and wash them often to break them in. And then, like the effect time has on most things, you begin to set those jeans aside. You buy new clothes: capris, mini-skirts, gaucho pants. When getting ready for work, you look past those jeans and head directly for the pair of pinstripe slacks. When there’s a shift in season, you would much rather wear a summer dress. But at the end of the day, when you’re in a rush to head out the door and have no clue what to wear… you reach for those jeans because they’re reliable. You know you’ll feel comfortable wearing them no matter what. And when you look down to see that a small tear is beginning to form in the pocket, you begin realize that you have to take better care of them. You sew up the tear and begin to wash them in the gentle cycle. They’ve become a lot more fragile than they were in the beginning. But even then, you know that they’re still reliable. And no matter how many times you’ve jumped from one outfit to the next, those jeans are the pair that you reach for at the end of the day... because no matter what the weather is outside, it's those jeans that make your ass look great.

Black & White

I love and not-love so definitely, without any if, ands, or in-betweens.

"Do It Yourself"

It’s occurred to me that in the recent months, I’ve pushed myself to become as self-sufficient as I could possibly be. Perhaps it was a product of my strong sense of independence, or maybe of my eagerness to prove to myself that I had it all together.

As I slowly tied up the loose ends of 2005, I realized how unbelievably driven I was by the idea of being successful. I finally had a good career that provided me with the sort of stability and resources I wanted for myself and for my future. I strongly felt that I was capable of doing absolutely everything on my own. I was competitive. I was ready to conquer whatever tasks were placed before me, formally and informally.

Quickly I learned that I was limiting my potential by not identifying and embracing those in my environment who had treasure troves of qualities that could help expand my world and vision. I learned that I could not achieve everything I wanted simply by deciding that I could do it all by myself. In a sense, I was allowing myself to be held prisoner by my “do it myself” kind of attitude. I realized that I could achieve more and learn more by reaching out to the caring hands that were willing to guide me onto a steady harbor. I was trying to achieve, alone, that which I could redeem in half the time with help from people around me; and it was during that epiphany where I realized that I could control how big I chose to make my world… simply by the amount of people I allowed into my life ~ I mean, really allowed into my life.

Lola

I tried my very best to tip-toe down the long hallway in an effort to minimize the amount of noise projected by the clash of tile flooring and my high-heeled sling backs. It was only 4:00pm but I knew that by then, she’d already be in bed. It smelled like old people. I hated that smell. Not because it smelled bad, per say, but because it reminded me that Lola was old.

She had been “old” all of my life; old but strong. It wasn’t until her mind was claimed by Alzheimer’s disease when her body began to slowly shut down. I embrace fond memories of her walking up a one mile hill to drop off and pick up my brother and I from elementary school ~ umbrella and water bottle in hand. I remember the rice crispy treats that she used to make every so often, and the home-made ice pops from kool-aid mixes and orange juice awaiting my arrival after school.

Lying in her bed, I caressed her forehead and kissed her over and over again. I reminded her who I was, what my name was, and how my father was her son, Leo. I told her about my new job and how I’m all grown up now ~ and that it was all because of her help during my childhood. I thanked her. Instead of replying “You’re welcome,” she would shout “Thank you!” right back to me. I told her I loved her and told her to rest her eyes so that her headache would go away. “I love you too,” came leaping off of her tongue until she finally rested her head down to rest. Then I left so that she could sleep. Like countless times before, I couldn’t help but to succumb to tears when walking out of her room.

It’s painful to see the cycle of life taking its toll on my Lola… because I have so much love for her ~ even if I fail to visit her often, the love is there.

I can almost guarantee that she won’t remember I went to visit her, or that I’ve been there many times before. But if I could make her happy for the few moments I get to spend with her during my visits, that time I spend beside her is worth every second. I’ll admit, however, that my visits are mostly selfish. I do it mostly for me… so that I can spend as much time with her as possible. I want to tell her that I love her, and thank her over and over and over for being such a driving force in my life… before God decides it’s time to make room for another blessed Angel.

New Neighbor Orientation

"Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for."
- Epicurus (341 B.C. - 270 B.C.) Greek Philosopher

I’m still not sure what tone I want to convey within this entry, but I can’t continue without first stating how unbelievably blessed I feel to be who I am, and to have what I have.

It was only a few years ago when I dreamt of being a big-shot business woman - and now I am writing about the amazing experience of having successfully completed my very first extended stay business trip.

My six colleagues and I didn’t really know what to expect out of our multi-hour drive into a remote (but growing!) town amongst the fields of central Cali. We knew we were doing something right when we each got our own keys to a deluxe suite in the booming Stockdale district of Bakersfield - complete with living room, dining area, kitchen, and separate bedroom equipped with an inviting king sized bed and two TV’s. If that wasn’t enough already, the newspaper at my front door every morning just threw me over the moon!

I tell you, my body didn't know how to react to all of that space reserved just for me. Best of all, my room number was 214... like Valentine's day. *SMILE*

Never mind the long orientations and meetings, what I appreciated most about this trip was the networking opportunities I was able to take advantage of while I was there. I met a handful of amazing people who share a similar drive to succeed in our given industry, and I can’t even begin to tell you how I fell in love with most of the people I met. I was so sad to go!

I always knew that I was working for a great company (fortune 500 and their pick for one of the best co's to work for!), but now I’m reassured that over time, I will fall in love with all that the enterprise has to offer.

Here are my favorite pictures from the four day event…


Photo: The pre-trip luncheon.


Photo: Mexican dining...


Photo: Why do all my pictures involve food?


Photo: Saying our goodbyes!

2/16/2006

I'm back from my trip.

Between family, friends, and all expense paid business trips (bite me), it’s safe to boldly state: the months pass too quickly.

Even now as I try to keep up with the collision of bubbling joy and boiling irate moments, I feel as though my words are stifled and forcibly propelled ~ coming off as grade-school doodle, scrawled and scattered across a plane of meaningless pages. With every taken breath, my lifeline of rapid thoughts and wishes are too much to even be uttered on this here platform. It’s difficult to construct a lyrical prose to project a striking reflection of my innermost thoughts that trace the very pattern of my life ~ the way it is right now, this very moment. So much has happened, yet not so much. My words are fragments of my road less taken… too raw to be fused together.

Blue Eyes

He started to walk away but came back. Steadily cupping his coffee mug with both hands, words began to spew from his mouth without haste. She reached out her hand as a sign of respect and welcome, and it may have been his wet hand that grasped her own that drew her to him for the very first time.

What continued to draw her to him? Was it the set of piercing blue eyes that made it hard for her to stay sober, and easy for her to lose herself completely, for no particular reason save that they were such kind eyes? Or was it his geeky, quiet confidence that shined through in the way that he would look at her and walk away? Was it his sloppy hair or wrinkled shirt? The sleepy in his eyes… or again, just the blue?

She hated that she was hopelessly and undeniably attracted to him. Her cheeks flushed and she felt ashamed that he haunted her mind, now more than ever.

Her thoughts had betrayed her. What she wanted to feel and what she was actually feeling collided in disagreement. She wanted the flush of her cheeks to turn pale, but the thought of his kind eyes kept on pulling her back to that magnetic other.

She sat there, cold. She tried hard to preoccupy her mind with the unimportant; but she knew that there was no use. She threw her hands up in defeat. Her fragile disposition almost could not handle such deafening prose… enough, she said. Enough.

His blue eyes, sloppy hair, wrinkled shirt, and the geeky, quiet confidence radiating from the way that he would look at her and walk away ~ began to form the silhouette of a goodbye.

Some Things

RIP my Averatec laptop which wasn't even 2 years old. You saw the world with me...

There's a scene in the movie Closer where Jude Law tells Natalie Portman of his love affair with Julia Roberts. As Natalie begins to leave the flat in which they shared, he desperately tries to stop her and asks, "what about your things?" She replies...

"I don't need things"

How bold. How profound that statement is.

I have a HUGE tupperware bin in the garage, safeguarding all of the tangible, sentimental goods I have accumulated during my mere twenty two years on earth (or at least the first 18). I still have the clacker (??) toy that Michael Wiley gave me in the fourth grade. Remember those clacker toys ~ cheap little toys ~ where you spun it round and round in one hand letting one ball hit the other ball over and over in the most perpetual of motions? The oranges and greens of that toy scream joyous of times at the tender age of nine. Where is Michael Wiley now? I hope he's had a good life. The clay figurine I made in Ms. Vaughn's 7th grade English class also sits in that bin ~ and I DO mean sit because I couldn't get the man-mold to stand upright, so I had to bend his legs just before the clay dried. Almost every single handwritten letter ever given to me too lies in that bin ~ with the M&M wrappers I collected in the 10th grade, dried rose petals my brother once placed in my room (no, they weren't dry then!), and even the momentos given to me by my first real love. This bin basically encapsulates who I was... am.

So they may be just "THINGS"... but they're my things. And with all of the goodbyes I will be forced to experience in life, it feels so soothing to know that there are just some things I will never have to let go of.

2006

God has a funny sense of humor.

I revisit the day I pressed my belly to the desk, preparing myself to peruse the web journal of a fellow peer. I sat there for a moment and mentally debated on how I would react if I were to encounter a particularly unfavorable blanket of thoughts; and in the midst of deciding whether or not I was to proceed, my laptop crashed without warning, protecting me from any anguish I was to endure upon myself. I’ve never visited the journal since.

Whether or not such instances are in fact supernaturally induced signs from a higher being, I will always choose to believe that they occur for specific purposes ~ to steer me into a direction I would not have otherwise chosen to embark upon.

And all of these signs have left me onto the very platform I stand tall upon today. Today! The infant break of a new year! And as I celebrate each and every day that I am gratefully blessed with, I am so anticipated to discover all the promises of tomorrow.

2005 was a great year.

*I developed more close (and real) friendships this year than any other year beforehand, and you can’t imagine how thankful I am to be cloaked by an amazingly diverse group of people. They all feed my soul in different ways. I am certain that as time continues to progress, they will all grow to become a great network of support that will define the rest of my days.

*I glowed in the warmth of my solitude and learned precisely what I expected out of myself, learning all of my capacities.

2005, though emotionally uneventful (and we all know I crave the extremes), was overall very good.

2006 gon’ be tiiiiight.

I shiver at what ecstasy I may experience in the coming year. Here’s to carpe diem. Cling steadfastly to your memories and stop dreaming your perfect fairy tail, live it.

Storm Surf

Clickity Click

We took a detour into Venice Beach this morning to get a first hand look at the record breaking waves. SPECTACULAR! Several minutes before we arrived, the bathroom on the pier fell off. Insane. Glad i got to see something once-in-a-decade-ish...