The superlative is my best friend. Why say, "you are a good friend" when you can say, "you are the best friend EVER!" or, "I didn't like that cookie" when you can say, "that was the most disgusting thing I have ever tasted in my life EVER" or, "I love you" when you can say, "I love you to death...EVER"?

But believe when I say I am not exaggerating this next sentence.

I just came back from the worst interview of my life EVER.

She is a prominent employer for a big-time system. She is a rule-breaker, ball buster, boundary crosser. Maybe I was a little intimated today? I never really get that nervous from interviews but today I was quite jittery. Somehow, I got it into my head that I wasn't qualified enough for the position and the rest of my answers came out sounding that way. The interview started off pretty well but when I looked over at her while I was talking, each time, she would have this not amused face on. So I started to get more nervous and when I get nervous, I crack jokes to ease the tension.

That did not help.

She still looked unamused so I soldiered on, saying things that as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to snatch back.

In the end, I walked away feeling like my previous work experience made me unqualified, fluffy and too soft for the position. It would not have been the case if I had been wiser with my answers, highlighting traits that would help with the position but I felt like I just sounded like I was explaining all the reasons why I actually wouldn't be a good fit, which Job Hunting 101 (yes, I'm still taking that prereq) has taught us you never should do.

Nothing really dramatic happened at the interview, there were no tears shed, F-bombs accidentally dropped, or punches thrown. I just walked away with this uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach, thinking, "that person that was in there is not who I am, that was not the best way I can present myself."

I wanted to go home, dig a hole in my couch and crawl in there with a bowl of Helen's mac & cheese in hand but I decided life is too short to wallow. Move on. So things didn't go your way. Get over it.

Instead I did some writing, read over what I wrote, and smiled to myself, thinking,"I enjoyed that."

I believe that writing just may be the best medicine EVER.

*Edit: Never mind, I just ate a slice of peach pie. That was the best medicine EVER.

Sexyface

Megan Fox is all over the place these days, what with her outshining Shia Labeouf in"Transformers" and her ultra-creepy but severely intriguing "Jennifer's Body" coming out in theatre soon. I can't flip a magazine, switch the channels or drive down Sunset without seeing her face somewhere. I was even watching the Chinese channel one day and she was plastered all over the background on the red carpet for some reality TV show. What the random, right?

Anyway, permanently attached to Fox is her trademark "Sexyface."

Look at that half-puckered pout, that "come-hither" stare, those devious eyebrows. She's got that look patented down!

I thought about all the ways people come across as. Guys often talk about how they distinctly label certain girls "hot," other girls "pretty" and other girls "cute." I don't think I've ever even touched the "hot" pot. (Har har, get it?)

But you know what, for the sake of... um... "investigative journalism," I will try. I want to be hot too!

Step 1: Making the Sexyface.

"come hither"

bored but oh-so-sexy

I like how my eyes get progressively smaller as the pictures go along. It's like I've even bored myself to sleep trying to make the "sexyface."

Oh look, I've actually fallen asleep...

Okay, so you're probably more amused by my stupid faces than turned on. Alas, the only time I have ever successfully made the "sexyface" might be once, a long, long time ago, back in 2007.

So it is possible. But I think I much prefer looking like this most of the time.

By the by, this was after Liz took a series of shots with me trying to pose a la that modely sketch girl in the art behind me. I failed. :D

Post inspired by { Jezebel }

Clean

Ugh...just found a giant (ok maybe tiny) spider roaming through my room. Time to get rid of this mess....

...before I start work on Monday. I GOT A JOB, BABY!

Glass Half Full

Over the past couple of weeks, a few things happened or will be happening to me:

1) I'm separating from all the friends I've made for the past four years and leaving the lovely little nest of UCLA which I have called home for the last four years and moving back home to a life of curfews, weight watching and not coming home drunk every other week.

2) A relationship that I thought had a shot of working out ended.

3) I will be getting my wisdom teeth pulled.

4) I'm facing temporary unemployment.

But you know what, life is all about perspectives so let's think of it this way...

1) I'm moving back home to hopefully establish a healthier and closer relationship with my parents whom I've drifted apart from over the years. I won't have to cook for myself or pay for rent and I get my own room!

2) I now have the freedom and time and space to find someone that will be a better fit for me. I learned, I grew and I once again realize all the wonderful support I have.

3) I get to lie in bed eating ice cream and watching movies all day as visitors shower me with gifts and flowers.

4) I have the room to expand on my hobbies and figure out what I really want to do and take that time to search for a job and try my darned tootin' hardest to convince employers why I am the perfect fit for them.

So yea, life is good. And optimism is even better.

EDIT: I got a "C"! I have never been so happy being so average. NOW I have OFFICIALLY graduated from college!!!!!!

"In general, pride is at the bottom of all great mistakes"

-John Ruskin

Tell me about it.

"No one ever choked to death swallowing his pride."

-Unknown

Are you sure?

It begins with a change of <3.

The Downside of Being a Wallflower

The epitome of cool.

He's sporting a grey knit beanie, his raven-black locks tucked under for a not-trying-too-hard look that obviously took a long time to perfect.  He's tall for an Asian man, with broad shoulders-the kind that feels really good when you wrap your arms around them because you can't exactly reach all the way around.  He has a smirk on his face, his eyes wrinkles up and his dimples popping.  

As he walks past, he knows many pairs of eyes are following his every step-he just has that kind of presence.  In one quick-paced moment, he smoothly flicks her navy fedora in a teasing, flirtatious manner. It's his way to vie for her attention, his little "look at me, look at me" cry.  She lazily turns her head back and generously gives him one second of her time.  But that's all she can give him. In a blink, she's already tossed her head back and strides forward towards the door.  Like an eager little puppy left wanting more, he can only pant and trail after her.

As I observed that little exchange in the dim and cool space of The Standard on Sunset, I realize that I know her.  I've grown up with her. I've heard her name uttered by many a friends and acquaintance, I hug her and exchange pleasantries when we happen to be at the same parties and gatherings.  

We've had similar upbringings and backgrounds. How is it that she ended up-for lack of a better word-so cool and me, well, how come I ended up being so me? How come she feels like she was born to be here, at this place full of hipsters and movers-and-shakers and I can't seem to shake that uncomfortable and out-of-place feeling out of my body? Does she even have one goofy bone in her petite frame? She's the girl everybody wants to know, every boy wants to buy a drink for, every eyes want to stare at.  

I'm weak.  I feel envy and unworthiness and hopelessness and failure constantly.  This is not a whine, not a cry for your sympathy or empathy. It's merely a self-observation.  

Sure, there are good times. There are times where I feel like I'm at the top of the world and God's greatest gift and then there are times like this.  Times like this makes me hate L.A.

A heart at peace gives life to the body, but envy rots the body (Pr. 14:30). 

*photo courtesy of The Sartorialist. A site that makes me aknowledge the extent of my un-coolness but I still can't get enough of the pretty people in their pretty clothes.

Tell Me About It

Heehee.

Thanks for making me smile, Anna Spiro!

UGH

I hope you get finger cramps

I hate it when I text and you text and I text and you don't respond.

Text messaging has made communication so much easier but also so much more complicated. Just call me, dammit. But I probably won't pick up.

I should have taken advantage of the California sun and sat out by the parks and hills more.  Who knew that this would turn out to be such a wet week?

On the other hand, I do enjoy the cheery pitter patter of the rain. Time to bust out the rain-boots!

The "25 Things About Me" thing has been going around these days.  I've almost been tagged more times than the amount of people I'm supposed to tag.  It's very tempting to also partake in this trend. I even started on a draft. But after getting to item #8, I realized that I don't really want all this information of me floating around in cyberspace.  In time, I will change, my thoughts will change, my words will change.  I don't want to have to explain myself 10 years from now for something I filled out back when I was a young collegiate who got "tagged" by a couple of her friends. (I didn't even get physically tagged! There were no human contact involved!)  

Besides, I'm trying to be more mysterious.  Is it working?