Too Sexy

Prologue: I am now back in LA and still without a job. I have about a zillion things on my mind that I will eventually write about on here. I miss New York still, and I've recently posted more NYC pics and pics from the Bahamas. Both are accessible from the sidebar. But after one of my most fun nights so far in LA last night, I couldn't stop thinking about men I'm attracted to. I'm also interested in what random things other people find attractive in perspective lovers.

Sometimes there are people in life who momentarily mesmerize me. There is something they do that is seemingly normal, but I find myself strongly attracted to that person. After a conversation weeks ago with my Sex and the City girls I find myself often thinking about what small things make a man sexy. After contemplating these things last night, this is a short list that I've come up with so far of what is sexy:
1. longish hair (noticed when he runs his hands through it), but not longer than his chin
2. a man in a well cut suit with a stylish shirt and tie
3. when a man takes off the suit jacket and tie, loosens his top buttons and rolls up his shirt sleeves--especially attractive when the forearms hint at a body that is taken care of (thanks Michelle for pointing out how sexy this is)
4. a politically minded man--who speaks his mind (especially attractive when his views are more aligned with the democratic platform)
5. a man who loves his career, whatever it is
6. a deep, scratchy voice or exotic accent (or both in the case of someone like Keith Urban)
7. a guy wearing trendy jeans, stylish shoes or flip-flops and a t-shirt
8. a man who can fix things
9. nice abs
10. a guy who can play an instrument, sing and/or keep rhythm (however someone who is too good of a dancer is a little shady, in my opinion)
11. a five o'clock shadow
12. one who still opens the door and pays for dates until things get really comfortable (always opening doors is good, though)
13. a man who believes in God
14. a guy who reads non-fiction
15. someone uncomfortable with PDA
16. a man who does not get drunk--I'm obviously OK with drinking, but if I've never seen him drunk, that's far sexier than a man who needs something to loosen him up or have fun
17. a guy who enjoys himself even when his friends think he's acting like a loser
18. Matthew McConaughey

When the End is Near

I don't want to know when I'm going to die. I know it's going to happen some day, but I don't want that to alter how I live my life.

During my vacation here in the Bahamas, I found out that my great-aunt passed away. She is the second great-aunt to die in six months. After my grandmother was put into a nursing home and subsequently died, these two great-aunts took the place of my grandmother. They were there for advice (wanted and not) and to listen and pester. They were there to give me financial support throughout college. They were who I visited on my trips home to MO. They were truly my pseudo-grandmas. And after seeing my own grandmother deteriorate due to Alzheimer's, I was always amazed at the minds of these two women who lived into old age (Aunt Ethel would have been 97 this November). But in the last few months of their lives, their minds started to play tricks on them. They began to forget things and get us kids mixed up. In her last month, Aunt Ethel's mind went back into her life in the '60s and '70s. But despite their mixed-up minds, they both knew they were dying. They could feel it. They died without the decision or accident of others.

They asked questions about religion to their loved ones. They wanted to make sure that their loved ones believed in God. Perhaps, they were also looking to them for personal reassurance because they died knowing that death was coming. They were without hope of life. As much as I believe in God and Jesus, I still don't know that I'll feel assurance in the grips of death.

And I know I'll look back (if my mind permits), and I hope I'll be happy with what I've done with my life. I hope that I will have chosen a career that wasn't just a financial path but a life path. I hope that I will have loved someone else who loved me. I hope that I will have shown friends and family their importance to me. But, if my mind does start slipping in those last few days of life, I wouldn't mind being taken back to the '00s. As stressed as I am now, I would be happy to relive much of my last five years.

Top 10 Reasons I'm Excited to Come Back to LA

Although New York was wonderful and the Bahamas are well, the Bahamas, I am uber-excited to be back in LA. As Katrina brewed overhead a few days ago, I came up with the reasons why I can't want to get back to SoCal.

1. Eat at Chano's. I need good Mexican food. Now!
2. Find a job. It's been plaguing me for weeks. I don't recall another time in my life when I've been this stressed about me and the working world.
3. Go to church. I tried a church in NYC, but I miss going to Bel Air.
4. See the Bulgarian. He was good in reality. After eight weeks away, has he become better as an idea person?
5. Have pleasant predictable weather. I never thought I'd appreciate dry heat quite so much.
6. Go surfing. I better put my boards to use! Without a job, I might as well work on a hobby.
7. Not live out of suitcases. I miss having a closet and drawers. And a washer and dryer.
8. Go to the John (Cougar) Mellencamp concert. I've been looking forward to this concert for months. I relate so much to this guy. I grew up in a small town, too!
9. Sort through all my mail. I know this sounds lame, but I truly like getting real mail. And I know there are at least some checks in there. Yippee!
10. Sleep in my own bed. Or the Bulgarians. Kidding! But really, I just want a bed that has real sheets and is bigger than the one I had to sleep on during my first year of college. After having a full-sized bed, one should never EVER have to sleep on a twin again. (The twin bed was in NYC . . . )

So there you have it. Ten reasons I can't wait to de-board at LAX. Granted, some of them aren't SoCal specific, but still yet, I am eager to get back. I'm just hoping Katrina stays away enough so that I can do some watersports today and fly home tomorrow!

You Cannot Hear Me Now

So, after one of the best summers of my life (ranks right up there with the last time I was in NYC and the one where I took summer classes in CoMO), I must say "adieu." I told myself I would leave the apartment at 10 a.m. for my flight. I now have 10 minutes until that time . . . I'll probably make it out by 10:15.

I don't know how much I'll be blogging over the next six days. My sister (the evil wench that she is) is taking me on a vacation to the Bahamas. Can you believe her? You should be happy you don't have an older sister like her. Yes, the Bahamas shall be great, but communication with the real world will be sparse. Apparently there is an Internet cafe somewhere near our hotel, and because I will be frantically checking my email to see if I've heard back about any jobs, I may have the urge to keep paying the $.30/minute to blog. Unfortunately, though, Verizon does not get service in the Bahamas. So, I will not be answering my phone until Saturday night (but I will check messages).

So long, everyone! Keep in touch! Pray that my sister and I don't kill each other!

Ideas vs. Reality

In college there was a boy who I was "in love" with. Chayce Bingler* and I became friends freshman year, and much of my sophomore, junior and senior year was spent trying to figure out this insane crush I had. Yes, part of the problem was him--he was a shady character. But a big problem was me. When I wasn't around him, I would ponder if he really liked me or if it was all in my head (surely you don't go hang out in some girl's hot tub without some interest). I would think up random excuses so we would see each other. When I was around him, though, I would be thinking about when the last time I dusted was. I would think about whether or not his friend Van Sane* really remembered me like Chayce said and then spend the next 15 minutes thinking about how gorgeous Van was. But I wouldn't be thinking about Chayce. There were times when I was even repulsed by being around him. But then a week later I would find him creeping into my thoughts again.

See, Chayce was better as an idea than he was as a reality. Sure, in my head he was great--polite guy, ripped body, great family, liked sports and didn't mind talking about them with a girl, went to church. But then I would see him. We would trade witty remarks (OK usually it was him saying some lame pick-up line and me shooting back with sarcasm). But there was not that chemistry I should have felt.

Now, I'm sure you're thinking, "This is a great story, Chayna*, but why are you writing about this now?" Well, my friends, the answer is because Chayce isn't the only person in my life when the idea is better than the reality. This summer I have been confronted with more idea people--planning the hanging out time is better than actually being with them. And, I'm not just talking about dating prospects, either. Friends are also sometimes better in my head than I remembered. I've suffered through painfully boring or excruciating dinners with "friends" and then a week later wondered if the same people would like to go to a movie with me.

But then there are the people who make my imagination stop. These are the people who make me happy to be with them every time I see them. Many of my reality friends came out to say goodbye to me last night. I call them my reality friends because the feeling I get from being around them is much better than the prospect of being around them. Sometimes people question "How can you be friends with *****?" I can't explain it. He/she may not be great on paper. Heck, said person might even be a jacka**, but I like being with him/her.

And I need to surround myself with these people more often. I must remember how I feel when I'm with them. They are what make me a happier person. That is why New York has been a great place for me this summer. I am surrounded by these people here.

Now, just to figure out which guys are the reality ones. That is my new mission. No more mentally chasing the Chayces of the world.

Note: *Names have been changed because I thought it sounded like a good idea.

I rock . . .

Here's me with my new ebay toy that I got yesterday.
Of course I don't know how to play it, yet. Any hot rockers in LA want to teach a girl?

Has Anyone Else Noticed?

After the recent massacre of friend requests, I've been spending more time on myspace. I realized Jaynar in a tube top gets way more requests than Jaynar in a sequin top.

I've also begun requesting others to join. If I'm going to be here, you might as well, too. And since I'm a full-time freelancer, I've got loads of time to spend on the Internet. Yesterday as I was wasting time on myspace, I decided to actually click on Tom, the friend we all have. Geez, although his white t-shirt profile picture doesn't show it, he's a hottie! Has anyone else noticed this? This is him:


And he's single? Living in Santa Monica? Looking for dating, serious relationships and friendships? Um, hello! Tom, I know a girl (right here!) who could take care of all three for you. And she's wearing a tube top.

Random media thought about Tom: I wonder if the Rupert Murdoch buyout of Intermix makes him more attractive or less . . .

"You're a New York City Girl! From 7th Avenue to Broadway!"

We're an ethnically diverse younger version of Sex and the City here--at a very Sex weekend brunch. We decided that if we were the characters we'd be (from left) me: Samantha, Danielle: Miranda, Emily: Carrie, Michelle: Charlotte.

You can find this and other great new pictures at my kodakgallery account's new album here. This batch includes Tina's birthday, Serafina, tattoo night, brunch, Kari's (Harlem RBI colleague) birthday and moSex.

Advice on Making New Friends

How to make new friends:
1. Smile and/or say "hello"
2. Introduce yourself
3. Participate in small talk

I realize that the internet changes many of our social norms; however, making friends is quite the same. You don't just walk up to a stranger and ask to be his/her friend. Why do people on mySpace and Hi5 that I have never met, insist on requesting me as their friend? Hello? At least send a message first and introduce yourself. It may or may not get you to "friend list" status, but witty banter never hurt anyone.

If only I could delete real-life people's lame attempts at friendship just as easily . . .

Where We're Born

I was born to a poor mother who did not want to raise me (for whatever reason--could have been selfish or selfless for all I know). However, because of the wonders of adoption I was placed in a fabulous home in rural MO. But because many people still see adoption as a bit of a stigma and because life is cruel, some people are without opportunities. Without adoption as an outside escape, how much does where and to whom we're born influence the opportunities life grants us?

An LA friend and I went to see the "Born into Brothels" photo exhibit today. The photographs were OK; I was glad to have seen them, but I can't want to rent the movie this fall. They were showing it, and I was mesmerized for the thirty minutes I watched. Truly, this movie captured the fact that:
1. where we are born is a large determinate of our fate unless someone from the outside intercedes on our behalf
2. self-expression is one of the most amazing facets of human nature
3. journalism--documentaries, photography, writing--can make a difference in one person's life and in the entire world

It (and my recent chats with friends) also reminded me that the world is so much bigger than Jaynar. There is a world that I want to influence and petty things like rent, a car, laundry, etc. shouldn't influence the life path I feel I'm meant to take. Geez. Just how do you get to a life path? I wish I'd been born on one of those.

Denial Sounds So Much Better

After joking with friends and colleagues for the past four weeks that I'm "unemployed," I have decided to start saying I'm a "full-time freelancer," instead. It's not a complete lie. I am freelance writing, and I'm making some money doing it, so that is what my new occupation is as of right now. See, if I say that, then I don't have to launch into a 15-minute monologue of what "my career" is when people ask what I "do." Wow. I'm really going overboard with the quotation marks. I'll try to hold back.

However, I'm beginning to get very antsy as my return to LA is only two-and-a-half weeks away, and I don't have a job to come home to. In my perfect little world, I would have secured a job two weeks ago. My world isn't perfect, however. With each passing day, I find myself getting a bit more depressed and stressed out. My acne is going haywire. I flipped out on a kid yesterday and had to calm myself with two margaritas (it was 2-for-1). I have been sleeping way too much this past week. But I can't leave my apartment--much has to be done with my new "full-time job."

And this whole finding a staff job bit has been a terrible headache for many reasons. I can't figure out why I'm coming back to LA. I find myself convincing at least one person a day why it's best for me to go back. LA is not the place for work in publishing. I don't like the city. My friends here tell me they want me to stay, and they all make an effort to be with each other and me at least once a week--none of the LA crap where you see someone once a month. Nobody here understands why I'm going back. I'm not sure I do, either. The job market for me in LA is sparse, to say the least. I find myself analyzing every possible opening, and I'm usually not too eager to take the openings there are. I want a job where I will feel the same worthiness I did at the end of a good teaching day. I want a job where I agree with all parts of the magazine's content. Where will I find a job like that in LA? Where will I find a place that will hire me to write and edit? Hell, I can't even get half of my friends to read my blog--why would any publisher in his/her right mind want to hire me to edit for an audience of thousands? By the way: if you're reading this, thank you. You make me feel loved. I know I'm being self-loathing and a bit of a cry baby (and please don't give me your sympathy or say "it will all work out") , but I don't think I can go another day without at least SOME kind of response to one of my resumes. (OK, so I'm overdramatic now, too)

So, this is why I'm in denial. When I think about my actual job situation (and lack thereof), I become angry, sad, annoyed, disillusioned and bitter. Instead of being all those things, I'd rather say I'm a freelance writer. It definitely sounds better to me.

Big-People Birthdays

In the last week, I've attended two birthday parties organized by the birthday-ee. My friendster page tells me that at least six friends have birthdays this month. I guess my pals' Midwest parents had to keep themselves entertained in between the holidays--thus 24 years later giving me many birthdays to celebrate. Parents' sex lives aside (I can talk about this--I'm adopted; you all who aren't have to actually acknowledge your parents did "it" at least once--I can keep pretending they never did), birthdays are such an odd event. What are they really celebrating? Is it a hope that you'll live another year longer? Is it a celebration of the past year? A celebration of the person's life? Is it people getting together and telling someone how special they are? Is it someone getting all their friends together to feel special? Is it someone getting all their friends together because it is an excuse to hang out? Although I've personally been through 24 of these things, I still haven't figured it out yet.

Last night as I left the evening's festivities with the birthday girl, we had a conversation about birthdays and people fussing over them. She had had a good birthday. She was happy so many people came. "You never want to make a big deal out of it yourself, but it's great when other people do." So true. I have been plagued by bad birthdays (which have included death, me crying, others crying, etc.), but I suppose when I stopped expecting others to do great things for me, birthdays became OK. Last year I finally got sick of hoping others would do something for me (not that I plan festivities for others' b-days) and planned my own party much like many of my other friends have taken to doing. Maybe that's what has to happen when we get older. We accept that our birthdays are really just like the other 364 days of the year. If we want McDonald's on our birthday, we have to make an appointment with a loved one to take us to McDonald's; if we want to have a party, we have to organize it ourselves; if we want a chocolate ice cream cake, we have to buy it ourselves.

It works, but it sure was way more fun in elementary school--pool parties, sleepovers and cupcakes your mom sent with you to school to share with the homeroom.

The Fortunate One

One of my favorite parts of any Chinese meal is the fortune cookie (sidenote:one of my pet peeves is when others eat my fortune cookies--I'm purposefully saving them for later; don't ask; you can't have it; if you take it, and it's not your cookie, I truly believe bad fortune may/should befall you).

Yesterday, I ate at my favorite NYC Chinese restaurant. My fortune was "Good luck comes from good planning." If that's really true, I'm hoping all the fretting and worrying--which leads to lots of planning--brings me good luck. I sure haven't had any luck with the CA lottery.

"Alright, Jersey, Show Me What You've Got . . . "

Until last Saturday, my only impressions of New Jersey were from movies. After Coyote Ugly and Garden State I wasn't sure at all what to expect, but in the past nine days, three have been spent in Jersey. What I've learned since then (feel free to argue if you don't agree):
1. It's super close to NYC, but sometimes it takes a LONG time to catch a train.
2. The PATH (train connecting NYC and Jersey) station at the World Trade Center site is gorgeous, but a bit creepy (it's built RIGHT in the middle of the site . . . the only thing there and surrounded by construction trailers).
3. Hoboken is very cool: apartments are about the same in price (a bit cheaper) and size as NYC, but quieter--kind of like a small, Midwestern city. If I were to live in the NYC area and not in Manhattan, Hoboken would be the place.
4. The Jersey Shore is fun--the surfing is definitely cool (although I didn't try it). It's a little overcrowded, though (although I guess ALL beaches in the summer are packed). You have to pay $7 for a beach "tag" to walk onto the beach. There are many beaches "houses" that have beer-gut-belly fraternity boys and over-bronzed girls.
5. Jersey City is a little scary: rent is definitely cheaper and just as accessible as Hoboken, but it's not as busy. Some apartments are HUGE and gorgeous. Out of all the places I've been in the NYC area, this is the place I felt least safe. I wouldn't want to walk around by myself at night. But Gretchen (a fellow Harlem RBI teacher) has for the past two years, so maybe it just looks creepy.
6. It's called the Garden State because of all the gardens that were made when it was founded. The route from Hoboken to Jersey Shore is green and lush. They wanted the guardrails to rust so as not to look as industrialized as the cities/turnpike look.
7. The Backstreet Boys played in New Jersey last night.
8. You cannot pump your own gas in Jersey.

So, this is what I think I've discovered about the Garden State. I've also posted more pictures to my kodakgallery account. They include: the Hair Supply/Mr. Brownstone concert, Tina and her guitar before our jaunt to the Jersey Shore, the Jersey Shore, a picture of the Empire State Building and pictures of the World Trade Center site (I didn't want to take them; I felt guilty, but a lot of my students in LA wanted to know what the WTC site looked like now--I took them to post to my students' blog but figured some of you may be curious as well), Matt and Amie at brunch, Gretchen on her birthday and the Backstreet Boys concert (Tina had free tickets!).