The Frye Addiction= New Ebay Seller

I really don't know how these baby fashion chicks can afford couture clothing. When I read their blogs and they list what they are wearing I feel myself having a seizure. You are wearing WHAT? They are either renting their bags are they have the best sugar daddy in town. Perhaps they have like six credit cards just for clothes.

Whenever I buy something expensive I have to figure out how I'm going to sell my unborn child in order to pay for it. My taste in clothing is getting more expensive every year and I can't fucking help it.

I ordered these Frye boots that I've been thinking about for over a year. I love them. They are so comfy I just wanna die in them. I even wrote a poem about them. Well I had to, for a writing exercise of course.

This is just to say

I have just bought these expensive pair of shoes

Beautiful, leather, equestrian boots

They make me feel like a show pony on a sunny day

So I cannot take you out to lunch today

I'm sorry

Let's reschedule

Keep in mind. I am now ebaying a bunch of stuff to pay for these bad boys, but I have no problem with it. I'm moving into an era where I'm not going to keep clothes just to keep them. If I haven't worn in for a year it's going to be sold. I'm going to buy the stuff that I LOVE and will wear all the time.

Is this the rationale of an addict? Perhaps. I love these boots. My best friend already asked if she could by them from me.

Hell. No :)

Stories From A Haunted Forest: An night of Filipino American experimental theater

Stories From A Haunted Forest: An night of Filipino American experimental theater is the show that I cam back up for.

I've been doing shadow puppetry for the past four years, and I'm happy to be working with one of my artist mentors again Lorna Velasco.

Lorna trained under Larry Reed and has practically mentored every Bindlestiff show that has a shadow puppet piece in it.

Photo by Yael Villafranca

The piece that I'm performing in this show is called Enkanto. It's about a dwende (dwarf) that becomes a giant/human. The whole show is about Filipino mythic characters. Filipinos have all kinds of myths to explain life and tragedy. As we approach Halloween, which practically celebrates the supernatural I'm delighted to take part in all its complexities.

Did I mention that we are performing at the Presidio, which is also haunted?

Come Check it Out!

WHEN: Saturday, October 30th
Doors open 630pm; Show starts at 7pm

WHERE: Presidio's Log Cabin, 1299 Storey Ave. (Fort Scott District of Presidio)
For directions: http://www.presidio.gov/event/rental/logcabin/log.htm

ADMISSION: This event is FREE!

I found my light

I remember when this photo was taken. I was tired and pissy.

My mom and I have the same exact expression when we are tired and pissy.

A friendly bystander replies "I've seen you tired and pissy." You look joyful.

Behind my sacacsta-letic -pessami-sology

I actually love to laugh. It's good working with old and new friends again.

Photo by Yael Villafranca

We walk by faith, not by sight.

Now so do I . No matter where we are. We get through it together.

Looking For the Perfect Fashion Blog

It's not a secret that I love fashion. I will walk through a mall on a bad day to clear my head. My room and bathroom always has a stack of magazines. I will even go to a Walgreens' magazine section to kill time. From Vogue, Bazaar, Lucky, to US Weekly there is no end for my obsession with fashion.

Now I've moved to realm of Fashion Blogs. This is instant crack. Instead of waiting a month for the next magazine, I can go to thousands of blogs to get my fix.

My two favorites right now are Bleed for Fashion and Vintage Vandalism

Ugh and then are are the Lookbook.nu girls. BOOOOOOORE SNOOOORE! SNORING!

They all look the same! If I read one more fashion blog with some wannabe pouty faced ingenue who thinks she is so fashionable, because she copied her whole closet out of NYLON magazine, I'm going to fucking lose it.

On top of that she has really, really dumb titles for each of her fashion posts..... something like "Lost in a farm but I'm a ironic mess" WHAT??????

I dream of a fashion blogger that encompasses my finicky taste. She's kinda hip hop, pinup, with Tokyo and Euro influences. Okay, here is my dream Fashion Blogger.

She shops at Karmaloop

and Aritzia

She doesn't forget where her roots are.

Loves a good Pinup Girl

And goes to Tokyo once a year


But will go see her old booty call in New York when the weather is good


Damn it she got a new job in Paris


However, she hates that she doesn't speak French. Los Angeles is the next stop.

Oh shit her best friend M.I.A called. She wants to talk about Diplo SWOON!

M.I.A you want to watch the Keeping Up with the Kardashians? I love them!


M.I.A has a jealous shit talking session about Lady Gaga, but also fantasizes about being over forty with a hot European boyfriend.

Wait wait wait. I'm getting distracted. My dream fashion blogger would be this.

Basically if Kate Moss had a coked up love child with.....


Rihanna

This would be my dream fashion blogger. I hope that this bootch really exists and she will come find me!

I am a dumb ass

If you want a really short narrative of my drive in life. It's simply this. I have to pretend that I am not a dumb ass. I can go through years where I don't have one of my humongous dumb ass moments, but that's like a dormant volcano. I can only pretend for so long, before shit hits the fan

I'm staying with my parents right now, and it feels like I'm in high school. I even have to share a car with my brother.

However, unlike high school my parents got one of those hybrid like Jettas, and not the big German tank that I drove back then. It's not really a hybrid, but it's not a regular car either. Are you already confused? Somewhere between my parents becoming "green" drivers and me being a big freaking dumb ass I missed the memo that God's favorite cars only take diesel fuel.

Oh, did I mention that I've been driving this car for the past three days? Not a peep from anyone about God's special gas that needs to be put in God's special car.

So I'm in San Francisco with my girl Maggie. We are both driving back from a late rehearsal and I fuel up the car. As I'm driving back home I feel the car choking. Somehow we make it all the way to Union City, but as soon as we are about to exit the car completely dies. My first thought was the gas, and I had this horrible feeling that I had put in the wrong gas.

It's way past midnight. Maggie and I look at each other and we just laugh because the night has been so long already, and we both couldn't believe this was happening. I have flashbacks of high school as I call my dad. Maggie is giggling and shaking her head.

"Dad. The car died."

"What happened?"

"I think I put in the wrong gas."

"CHRRRIS. STINA!!!!!!!!"

Pause.

"Stay there I'll come get you."

eep.

We see a cop pull up behind us. He knocks at the passenger window, and hello he is HELLA FINE.

Mags and I are thinking exactly the same thing. Damn it we look like shit. We both giggle like two little blonds, and I have to tell Officer Fine ass what I just did. He shook his head and felt sorry for the both us for being stuck on the road. He wanted to make sure that we were both okay, and that we were safe. Before he got back into his car Mags and I both looked at each other and we agreed that Officer Fine Ass secretly wanted to stay.

"No one told me that this car only takes Diesel."

"Are you rehearsing what your are going to say to your dad when he gets here? Now I feel like we are in High School. Hi Mr. Y_ng, but we did put in Diesel......."

We both laugh our asses off about the night that super sucked and Mags having to wake up three hours from now to go to work.

Dad finally comes. It's not that bad. His 28 year old daughter goes into the car with her head down and not word for the rest of the way home. Yep it's just like High School.

So guess what guys. If a car has a word that has Hybrid attached to it, even if it's in fine print. It only takes Diesel gas.

I look at my phone that was in my trunk this whole time. It's a text from my mom. "Remember the Jetta only uses Diesel if you need to get gas."

Oh really? Thanks for the update =/

Time of text? Right after I fuel God's precious chariot with earth harming fossil fuel.

The first thought I had when I got home? I do not want to have kids. I have to bail them out of the stupid things that they do till they are in a pair of Depends.

MCHS Home Coming 2010

I have very mixed feelings about high school. I have no idea which of the John Hughes' brat pack archetypes I embodied, but like the movies I went through my own anguish that set the precedence for my now miserable adulthood.

I suppose it would surprise people that I would attend my home coming games as an alumni. I hated my class. In fact, my ten-year reunion just passed, and I have no tears about missing it. I remember the first and last names of maybe ten people from my class. If I could go back maybe I would change that. I didn't hate high school years, but nothing was awesome about it except for Color Guard.

I was a Color guard girl for all four years of high school, but I was previously a punk. I wasn't the cool rocker punk. I was simply a brat. My dance teacher/Color guard coach sniffed out my bullshit from the beginning, and she called me out for the lazy kid that I was. Those first couple of months with her felt like I was working with someone who had a personality that crossed between a drill seargent and Joan Crawford in Mommy Dearest.

She KICKED my ass, and I love her for it. Because of her I grew out of my insecure shell and I became the leader bootch that I am today. She is one of my closest friends and I regard her as one of my most positive mentors.

I can brag that I was a Color Guard captain, because I was good Oh wait, let me rephrase this. As Demi Moore put in Charley's Angels Full Throttle, "I was never good. I was great." (Cue in maniacal laugh).

I guess that's why I so damn power hungry till this day. Despite my King Midas complex, we won like no body's business. The cheer leaders hated us for it because they sucked ass and they knew it. Aside from knowing that they sucked, we were a cuter squad. Yeah I said it. So those bitches can eat it.

They killed the Color Guard program about five years ago at my high school. This move was a huge slap in the face considering that Color Guard won first place for the school in every competition for the past twenty years.

A couple of years ago my teacher called upon the alumni to perform for the Home Coming games to try to revive the program. Well, they haven't revived the program, but we still get together every year.

I recently asked one of my old Color Guard team members, "Who was your best friend in High School?"

"Color Guard," She says.

That about explains it. I love you girls.

Below is the Color Guard Alumnus most recent performance. Because of my new residence in Los Angeles I wasn't able to perform this year, but please check out my most awesome commentary.

Shoetoure

I hella love my Jordans. I love them more than any shoes I've ever owned. If they get scuffed, bumped, or spilled on I get neurotic and I will scrub the shit out of them as soon I get home. I never fancied myself to be a sneaker freak, but lately it's been a problem. I went from being an Airmax girl to a Jordan girl, and the now there is an expensive problem.

I buy kid sizes so I trick myself into thinking that they are a deal, but they really aren't. They are still ridiculously expensive.

I've been wearing them a lot. I actually love it when guys check out shoes and not my butt. teeheehee.

What is worse is that there are now accessories to my very expensive problem. Shoetoure is pretty blingy and unneccesarry, but they look so dope on my shoes I just had to share the JOY! Wanna love your kicks again? Shoetoure.com

Write Girl

A couple of weeks ago I picked up a flyer from a coffee shop. "Mentor a girl in Creative Writing."

It was a sign of all signs, and it was in tune with a lot of the things I want to accomplish here in LA. I procrastinated on turning in the application, but when I finally did they got back to me promptly.

When I received an email that I had to attend a five hour training, I immediately found myself not enthused about committing. Keep in mind I've been slightly shield from anything related to my previous field of work for the past three months, and I figured that I would never have anything to do with mentoring or non profit ever again.

I hate to admit that when I went into Saturday's training slightly hung over, and I knew that this was going to make the training significantly longer and already felt myself dragging. I coordinated my own mentoring trainings in my previous job and I didn't understand why this had to be so freaking long. ARGH why is this thing 5 hours????????

My mopey face turned into a huge smile when I walked into the room and I see at least thirty women. I was so shocked and I felt this sense of excitement that I hadn't felt since I first joined Bindlestiff (My theatre collective). They had accepted women from all writing genres from blog writing, screenwriting, technical writing, non fiction, etc.

I felt like I just walked into the mentoring program that I've wanted to run.

I saw this magnificent team of really great women, who were so committed to this program they volunteer about 30 hours a month. They were not begrudged with the miserable rigmarole of working with at risk youth and even stupider people that reside in non profit.

I signed up for weekly mentoring sessions with my own girl. I have to come up with writing exercises with her, and help her with her homework. I'm also obligated to attend monthly trainings with all the other mentors/mentees. Whenever I would get a new person to be a mentor for my previous job, they would all say the same thing. "I hope my mentee likes me." I find myself saying that now, and I sincerely hope that they don't run away at the first sight of me.

Please check out Write Girl :D

Do Over (LA)

After spending my Saturday in Palm Springs I sped back to LA on Sunday for the Do Over Party in LA. The party takes place every Sunday during the summer.

My friend Carlo put me up on this party about a week ago. I've been itching to go to a good party in LA that is not hella Hollywood fab and it's going to take me four hours to get ready. I want to go to a spot where I can just show up in my Jordans and have a good dance night.

I told my friend Joi about it, and we both thought since the summer has ended that we missed the opportunity. We were both pleasantly surprised to find out that they we extending it till the end of October.

For a minute I was irritated because me and my roomate were in long ass line with a buttload of dudes.

I understand each club has to do their own gender management so that whole night isn't a sword fight, but GEEZUS this line hasn't moved for like 20 minutes. I guess the bouncer saw my annoyance and he let me and my roomate cut in front of all of the dudes. Woot Woot!

I was waiting for Do Over all week and it didn't disappoint. The party is outdoors and the bar in on a deck, and for a minute I felt like I was back in Oakland dancing in someone's backyard.

If only my parents could have been out of town more often in High School that would have been fucking awesome.

Wait a second. My parents were NEVER out of town during High School. BOOO! Check out the Do Over party. It ends this October. Holler!

Stronghold (Palm Springs)

I felt like a nomad this weekend, but the transient lifestyle that I'm living right now is very fitting and healing. I'm always ready to move. The next stop was Palm Springs.

My two former roommates Jonas and Jona moved from the bay area to Palm Springs about five years ago. Jona and I have been to countless parties where Jonas and my ex would be spinning, and we called ourselves the DJ girlfriends.

We helped load in, set up, and would be the last ones to leave. In those years we were rotating between drum and bass, reggae, and random top forty parties. Those were great years.

Jonas has now cultivated a reggae scene in Palm Springs. StrongHold started in San Francisco, and has now become the party to be at in Palm Springs. For me it was interesting to see a San Francisco party transcend into a completely different scene and watching good folks have a great time.

This picture cracks me up because I have no idea why I'm making this face. I guess I was shocked at Ed's enthusiasm and intensity. Good guy, but very wacky!

I met a good group of folks this weekend, who were all very genuine and kind. Jonas has a good team of people who make this party happen every month, and have managed to get a consistent following.

Palm Springs is a nice getaway from LA. The parties in LA are a little intimidating to me. They seem so fab industry, I'm sure if folks are there to dance to just "look good." It's been interesting for me to experience subculture outside of San Francisco. For a long time I don't I could even fathom subculture outside of San Francisco, because I was just a Bay Area snob.

I can't even believe that I thought nothing "real" or "cool" could happen in SF. *eye roll* that's me in my early 20's for you.

Great times Palm Springs. I'm sad I won't be able to go next month. Your desert drive is beautiful. You people are nice and chill. I'll see you again. Next Stop back to LA for the Do Over party.

Namaste Bootch

For the past three weeks I've been a beast. A namaste beast.

Note the highschool sweatshirt and nanay duster dress I'm wearing. Yes this is what I wear around the house.

My workout regimen consists of mostly yoga and jogging. I found a yoga studio near my house that has $5 yoga hour. The classes are great considering how cheap they are. I've always wanted to do Yoga on a regular basis. In my old age I want to be a Yogi and a dance instructor, the fact that I can do Yoga five days a week is a blessing.

I've been dancing since I was a kid, so I take my flexibility for granted. When there is a pose that I can't do, I catch myself literally saying "FUCK THIS POSE." Then I look around and make sure none of the peaceful hipsters heard me.

It's been helping at getting my mind right. Coincidentally it's been helping me in my quest to become a runner, because now I can actually get through 30 minutes of jogging without giving up. Last week I ran about seven miles, which is pretty small time. Oh did I mention that I HATE running? You couldn't get me to run anywhere unless there were a pack of tigers chasing me.

Fuck Running. It's boring. Whenever people talk about marathons it's just a bunch of bla bla blahersons to me. Running is not fun and there is no way that I'm jumping on this bandwagon.

Well look what happened. I'm giving it a try. My goal is to run two miles in twenty minutes, and I'm about five minutes away from achieving it. We'll see if there is a marathon in the future. For right now, I'm enjoying the time that I have to work on these two things.

LA's Bboy Summit

Los Angeles has so much to offer and I feel ashamed that my bay area arrogance was not able to recognize this before. My good friend/dance compadre Joi, who is also a fashion stylist here in LA, figured that a day at the B-boy summit would be a fine time for the both of us.

I never had the balls to be a B-girl (literally). The breaking scene is still brutally male dominated and misogynistic. I always feared that I would look silly trying, but had always wished that I had break dancing in my artillery.

In the past ten years the B-girl uniform has not changed. Kangol hats, bandannas, beanies, kicks, and bamboo earrings. It just cracks me up that this style has not evolved, and that all the women feel like they need to dress this way. On the wrong girl it looks incredibly silly, especially if homegirl breaks really badly. It's like looking at a bright skittle that is trying really hard. Those are the types of girl that you knew were only into breaking to meet guys. Game recognize game. You ain't Slick Rick.

We went on Saturday so there were free workshops in the middle of Pershing Square. There were breakers from everywhere that came to jump in the cyphers. There were a sea of kids with just a sprinkle of OG poppers.

This event was so OG Arabian Prince from NWA spun during the popper set. Hella fucking awesome.

The organizers did a really great job at accommodating all of the styles that encompass break dancing. It was peaceful and positive, and everyone followed the rules. This event was all about the kids. I love how kids are so hungry for dance. It was a certain level of bravery that I wish I had.

Most adults would be intimidated to speak to any of theses OG's, but kids as young as five would align themselves right next to the teacher and imitate them as best as they could. It was great. It brought back really great memories.

Ten years ago Joi and I danced together in a group called 69 degrees, which makes me feel like an old lady. The years that I spent dancing for various hip hop groups, I would never take them back. The battles, the competitions, and the beef all make the hip hop experience. It's also given me a flare for fashion and discipline.

Hence two unexpected fashion choices: Matching Jordans. She and I are B-girls at heart. Good times.

Tegan And Sara - The Con (Video)

This is how I feel whenever I talk about my love life, because deep down I have two crying lesbians that need to sing :)