A Year of Big Decisions

I'm not a fan of the show, Girls, but I was cracking up at the season trailer when her boyfriend says, "To Hannah, to taking the next step. In a series of random steps." I haven't been caught up with the show for a minute, but I think this line has to do with her decision to attend an MFA program in Iowa. Sound familiar? I suppose I should be invested in this plot line but I think I'm over the era of arbitrary decisions and random steps. I don't like to waste time and money. I'm going to predict that by the end of this season this little bitch named Hannah is going to drop out in one of the most prestigious writing programs in the nation. I can't ... with her.

As usual, my blog posts have been few and far in between. Although, it's bad for this blog it means that things are busy for me. While I was in the Bay Area I had gotten a job that would allow me to work remote from Los Angeles. Training for the job prolonged my moving date, but I'm grateful that I took the time to set some roots that would take care me financially. The next step is make roots in the other area of my life, which is my writing life. I have a goal of getting into the the industry in 2015. In the bay area this goal is lofty. People look at me with both concern, retrained laughter, and doubt when I tell them this. I don't know if I'm too old or too invested to entertain it, but all I know is that there is a prophecy to fulfill and I have not choice to pursue it. In screenwriting, if this story is going to take form in the "Hero's Journey" we will call this current phase, "The Call to Adventure."

Good news ... the adventure has sort of started. My play and graduate thesis will be making it's world premiere in San Francisco in May 2015. Out of everything that I wrote in graduate school. I'm the most proud of that play. It's something that best reflects of who I am as a writer at this moment. I'll talk about the play more in the upcoming year, but since it's in the early stages of production I sort of want to keep the suspense.

Here's another big decision that I'm dealing with. While I am now on my grind and shit. How much fun do I want to have? Talk to me five years ago ... I'd would've been like .... YOLO MOTHERFUCKER! I'm a thousand percent serious on this issue. When I last moved here I don't know if you remember the entries, but I was a hedonist mess ass. There are a few key differences in current version of my LA self. I hardly drink, go out, and do all things. It's very YO.NO.

One of the biggest reasons for this is I took charge of my health. A few months ago I had a very sobering doctor's visit. We need not get into the details, but I cleaned up my eating and started working out like I was training for the hunger games. I am the mocking jay. Bitch. The problem with this is I can't go back to the way I was, because my health will take a toll. But the way that I was, was so fucking fun. I was the party girl and now she's dead.

I'm going to end the post with this. I'm adjusting to a new self in a not so new city. The dream is still big. The work ethic is still the same. All I can do is take it one day at a time.

Long Beach Indie Digital Edutainment Conference 2014 #Fashion Politics

I was a panel speaker for the Long Beach Digital Edutainment conference. The conference simultaneously focuses on social justice, media, technology, and entertainment. It was one of the most engaging events that I've ever participated in and I felt at home with like minded peers.

I was invited to discuss fashion politics based on my screen play "Harajuku Faux Pas," which is about an African American teenager that dresses in Japanese Goth Lolita attire.

I weighed in on topics that deal with fashion/cultural misappropriation, ethical garment production, and the purpose of fashion as a POC. All of the workshop attendees were encouraged to take their thoughts digitally using the hashtag #LBIDEC.

Dr. Chetachi A. Egwu, Gail Taylor, and my serious panel face.

The root of the picture on the right is actually a funny story. My boyfriend had texted me this right after the panel discussion had ended, and it sort of freaked me out because he wasn't even there, but found it through the hashtag.

I was definitely engaged in the conversation and was thrilled with the attendee participation.  My graduate program was not exactly an environment for meaningful conversation regarding people of color,  and the energy made me included in something that mattered.

My favorite discussion was led by founder of The Unslut Project, Emily Linden. She gave a riveting personal talk about her experience with slut shaming as a preteen. It was a story that deeply resonated with me. With the increasing number of young women committing suicide due to sexual bullying, I found her talk to relevant and inspiring.

According to the website "The UnSlut Project promotes gender equality, sex positivity, and comprehensive, age-appropriate sex education for all ages. This is a collaborative space for sharing stories and creating awareness about sexual bullying, slut shaming, and related issues. "If you get a chance you should check out their website and the trailer for their fully funded documentary is on their site. This is a great conference for educated free thinkers to engage in many socio political conversations that are relevant in our digital age.  It was a honor to be chosen! I had a great time connecting with some awesome women.  Below was the full schedule of the topics covered as well as the esteemed panelists. 

Here are also some videos that I recommended to some of the panelists that were relevant to our panel discussions.

Sewanee Writers Conference 2014 Review

The local reservoir.  Awesome swimming experience! 

If you've never been to a writing conference before this post might bore the hell out you. This is mostly for someone who might find this and want to know more about the Sewanee Writers Conference, because there isn't much from the perspective of the playwriting attendees.

I attended was the Sewanee Writers Conference at the University of the South in Sewanee, Tennessee.  The conference is supported by the Tennessee Williams estate, and the town and university prides itself in being somewhat of a writer's colony. I was excited to visit the south, since I'd never been. My only reference to the south is only what I've seen in movies. As usual, I was in love with the accents and the southern hospitality. I've never been to any place so green. There were lush trees and plants everywhere. I also was geeked to see my first firefly! They are everywhere along with the sounds of cicadas in the background.

The conference was twelve days long. Yes you heard that correctly 12 days! The University of the South is located in a remote part of Tennessee where there is nothing but a few businesses around. Nashville is about an hour and half away so I was pretty much on campus for the whole twelve days.

Most of the writers and teachers were esteemed poets and published authors, many of which were SWC alumni. The day itself was about eight hours. There are readings, craft talks, editors panels, and more readings through out the day. In the evening time there would be poetry readings at the pub, trivia, and more drinking at a beautifully restored property called the "French House. " They had a great band playing while writers got to drink and mingle.

The accommodations are mixed. I got to stay in the new dorms that's a bit of treck from a lot of the activities. The mattresses were like sleeping on bricks and coffins. The food however, was really amazing. I never felt hungry or even sober for most of the time I was there. There was plenty of free alcohol for the most part and there's nothing that goes hand and hand like drinking and writing!

Although this is my first conference my experience gave me a lot of good information into what to research for future conferences. This is one of the most esteemed literary events to be accepted to, but I felt that their coordination of the playwriting aspect of the conference fell short. Out of the 20 readings that were TWO stageworks. There was ONE craft talk on playwriting and although she was a playwright and a teacher, she talked about her personal experience about writing an adaptive screenplay in hollywood.  As a playwright attendee, I was so disappointed.

My workshop experience ... was just that- an experience. It wasn't amazing. I met a pool of playwrights who were wonderful and amazing. However, it wasn't the right workshop environment for me. I only got to workshop once out of the twelve days and it wasn't fulfilling. I really enjoyed the one hour talk I had with my teacher and advisor. He gave me a wealth of information and encouragement, as well as solid craft feedback. I know now that there are better conferences for playwrights. I will probably pursue those in the future  but it was a honor to be chosen for Sewanee.

The End. Post Graduate Updates.

Undergraduate/Graduate: Still stressed

So the end happened.  About three months I was honored my degree for an MFA in Writing for the Screen and Stage.

My man, my family came to support me in the mean streets of Evanston.  Everyone was happy for me, but I was on the brink of meltdown. Stress has a very debilitating effect on me. If you were to look into my brain under stress you would see countless checklists. In my mind I would be focused one checklist and then three little checklists will pop up.

Then I'll get a phone call, an email, a text. The checklists will all disappear. I lose my place. I take of whatever immediate distraction and then start sorting through the lists in my mind all over again.

I almost didn't make it in the ceremony because I filled out the wrong form. Yes, let me repeat that. I almost didn't walk in my own Masters Graduation ceremony, because I filled out the wrong form. I went to go pick up my graduation tickets. The woman politely informed me that I had not even registered for the ceremony. I was about to collapse on the ground and kick my feet in the air. But I couldn't, this was Northwestern University.  I had to put on my WASP gangster face on and not be affected. I negotiated my ass off and I barely got into the ceremony.

Every day leading up to that day was meltdown central, but I finally I walked across the stage, and looked into the crowd. I was amongst the most elite intellectuals in the nation, and I almost fucked up the most important moment of my graduate school career. However,  I was the happiest that I had ever been when I got my Masters hood put on me. I was meant to be there even if I almost sabotaged it.

I look at my two graduation pictures side by side. They look almost identical despite the fact that there is almost a decade between the two. I went to two colleges that had purple school colors! My parents also have a penchant for fuchsia colored leis. I have the same look of uncertainty and fear. Don't be mistaken though- a lot of interesting and character building crap happened in between. The root of my fear is this- graduate school was the end game for my anxiety and fears in my twenties. Now that it's done and I'm in my thirties- what's next?

I have a large career to look forward to and the steps that I took to get to the first end game now have to be applied to this new one. The end has happened and now I have to move on.

Birthday 2014: Bad Bitch Contest I'm in First Place

Yep I can read the words upside down

Keep in mind a lot of these posts are on the #latergram status because I couldn't get my life together as these moments were happening.

Lets talk about my birthday ... well. I turned 32.

These are the years that the years keep on passing by. I think I have the Wendy Williams approach on aging.  There's nothing wrong with a tight dress at 50 why not add some heels and a microphone at 32? I introduced my cohorts to Korean karaoke in Chicago. If you've ever been to a Korean karaoke club, getting a sweet room with alcohol and and food served to you is pretty sweet. You get to sing sweet tunes on a fancy programmed microphone all night long.

However, this club will remain nameless but it was not as swank as the Korean karaoke clubs in LA or Asia. It looked like a cheaply made house that was converted into a cheaply made brothel that was eventually cheaply made into a Karaoke bar.  Basically so much cheaply made was happening and I could not handle. But everyone had a great time and I was grateful that I had gotten to spend my birthday with such wonderful friends. I was drunk as a skunk. I was rockstar and hot mess all at once. Here's a song to commemorate the experience.

I'm pretty amazed at how much I didn't blog during the two years that I was here.  I thought I knew who I was before I got here.  Perhaps I just sketched the blueprint. One thing I know for sure is that I love writing. I truly love it.  I loved it before I came here and I love it more now. I had so much to learn and I'm grateful that I wasn't so self righteous in the process. But if I must be transparent- I will say that emotionally I have aged tremendously. To the naysayers and haters in the world, a MFA program is not a cute little two year writing workshop. I had the loveliest cohort, but to surrender your pride and soul to workshop and take criticism everyday is a beautifully painful thing.

I'm in the last quarter of my graduate program. My field of study is in one of most competitive and stressful industries known to most and conquered by few. I'm in the field of screenwriting, television writing, and playwriting. A part of me is eager to get out there and work, but I'm also anxious and depressed as I prepare for the level of ego degrading experiences ahead of me. There has never been an easy route to any success of my life. This next phase will not be any different. Even at looking at this blog, I realize that I have gotten rid of many of the superficial things that I used to love so much.

At this moment, as I approach the last month before graduation. I am so tired, exhausted, drained .... done. I am done with this journey. I don't even have an escape plan in mind. I'm just done.  I don't want my work to be under the watchful eyes of teachers anymore or the snap judgements of what it is I'm trying to write. Yes, I know it comes with the trade, but for at least two months after graduation I just want to write prose and build again.

Some great things I'd like to share. I wrote a full length play that became my thesis.  It had so many struggles that even my grade my deducted for it. After a million meltdowns which included no eating or sleeping for a time, I finally created an opus- an ode to the pain that I experienced before this journey began. It's etched in the dialogue. It's layered in the characters. I'm showing it to you but you can't see it. Booyakasha is all I can say. I wrote a play bitch.

I'm attending two amazing conferences this summer. One of them being the Sewanee Writers Conference and the other being the Long Beach Digital Edutainment Conference. Again, Booyakasha.

I'm happy.

How I managed getting what I wanted.

What was it like to finally get what I wanted? First of all, it was hard. The happiness of achieving a goal was mind blowing, but graduate school doesn't validate anything except that you need to work harder.  I've never been so emotionally drained in trying to keep up with everything. I was managing my life in school after a seven year absence, while embarking in a new long distanced relationship, then appearing for family and friend's life events, and maintaining and creating meaningful relationship with my new cohorts and teachers. I endured the year hoping to fly back to Los Angeles and embark into hedonism that I first experienced when I first moved here .

Wrong.

The act of maintaining continued and it worked me all summer long.  Los Angeles was a launching pad into my dreams, and every day of this summer I was so stressed about everything and anything. Nothing is ever balanced when you are obsessed with succeeding, but god damn it- I really thought I could part the river the summer. I did it without really having a place to live and it fucked me up royally.

Now I am at the end of the summer about to start my second year of grad school, and I've learned that I don't need to catch up with anything- I need to just be. It's easier said than done and being present in the moment is something that I'm not good at doing. I've lived a million different lives in my mind- sometimes through other people. Mostly I've lived a millions lives as a different version of myself. I will never accept the current version of myself. I always have to be better- but why?

I should never stop preparing for the next moment of excellence, but the current version of Christina is operating the campaign, and I should treat it with more respect.  Today I accept that not everything I'm doing will be perfectly managed equally.  I move forward tomorrow still giving myself the opportunity to learn. 

Grad School Life: Winter Addition

So gone are the days of being a glamourpuss.

This winter quarter has been super kicking my ass.  It just started off all bad....

I came back to school with a kidney stone. If you've never pass one, just imagine someone stabbing you from the inside. I got it removed, but there were a lot of complications.  The nurses told me the pain of a kidney stone is worse than a childbirth.

Send me a baby. I'm ready mofo.

I'm in the playwriting phase of my program, which has taken me into dark places. My professor is a provocateur and a darling in the playwriting world. His class has definitely has encouraged me to go as dark as I've imagined. The snow and the short winter days have given me horror movie thoughts. Man, just looking at my face in this pic is so telling. I've started to worry about my mental health as well as my physical being. I hope I don't have a Jack Nicholson moment a la The Shining.  I've spent the morning committing to more solution based thoughts.  Finishing this program is a monumental accomplishment, but I need to find happiness while I'm here. I want to enjoy the limited time I have here.

Mastering the Skill

Jiro Dreams of Sushi

When I was a young kid, writing and dancing were my skills.  To clarify, they were not my passions they were my skills.

I used to think that dancing was my stronger skill, because it was the first to become a passion. I spent a number of years training and obsessing, and eventually it killed my spirit. Sadly, I no longer dance.

Fast forward to the present. I'm here mastering another skill turned passion. Although I am afraid I will reach the same plateau that I did in dancing, the possibility of mastering this skill is substantially more tangible.

Unlike dancing, it is okay for me to access a dark and sad part of my mind. This part of me does not sabotage my writing like it did with dancing.

I'm grateful for the years that I was lost and weary, the loves that broke my heart, and the interesting childhood happenings that weighed down my mind. It was all fueling something bigger in my life, and I wasn't ready for it until now.

I love my graduate program right now. My class is amazingly talented and down to earth. I love hanging out with them and talking about ideas. Nothing ever seems too crazy or too strange, and I love that we all help each other in making it work. I don't know if I'll ever get this camaraderie at writing table for a T.V show, movie, or whatever I decide to do after this. I'm doing my best to stay present and enjoy the time, and dedicating my life to mastering my skill.

Art Analysis: Kiss V Roy Lichenstein

When I was at the Chicago Art Institute during a recent trip, I was in the museum store trying to looking for something "cool" to take home. I saw the Roy Lichenstein Kiss V print in the store, and although I had seen this image a countless times,  I was immediately drawn to it. It impacted me differently since I had last seen it.

Well now I realize that it was positioned the wrong way in the store.... LOL

I've been looking at this print for the past month, wondering why it looks like the man is swallowing the woman's face.

If you take a look at how it's supposed to be (on the computer) and I how I had it on my desk, you get a very different feeling from it.  The woman on the left is clearly a victim of heartbreak, and has a more sexist connotation.

Wow, but if you just change the angle slightly suddenly the gender dynamic is more equal in the painting.  In my perspective, the woman on the left has succumbed to man's choice to leave her. She is devastated, and her man dips her and cradles her as if she were a child.

Now take a look to the right. The decision to end their love appears more mutual. As if these two have done all they could, but it's just not right at this moment. That's exactly what I was thinking before I purchased this print, and it was the image that I needed to see to inspire the two characters for a play that I'm working on.

I don't think I would have bought the print if it were positioned the right way, simply because I identify more with the woman on the right than I do on the left.  Most importantly because I would never let a dude dip me.

When I look at the painting to the right, it evokes more emotion for myself and my characters. It makes me wonder what these two went through that made them decide that there was nothing else that they could do. I feel their charge every time I look at them.

Why had their love run its course? It's obvious they have completely surrendered. No couple surrenders in this way, unless they've done everything that they could to save it.

Don't you think this is a more interesting story than being dumped and dipped like a jackass?

I think I'm going to keep it the way that I had it.  It's funny how a change of angle can change how you feel about a story.

Self Narration

"I'm never gonna be _____"

Once in awhile when my mind is out of sorts I will turn to the big O. No, not orgasm... Oprah.

Keep in mind when I was watching  Oprah's Lifeclass: the Tour: Iyanla Vanzant on Stopping the Pain, I  was super irked about something stupid. At that moment, I was just committed to being mad.

Oprah's co-mentor for the episode, Iyanla Vanzant was talking about how people are committed to their narrative, sob story, self loathing, etc.  It's not real, that's just the story you have made up for yourself.

I have to admit this pissed me off.  I got defensive at a video pre-recording.  I even stewed over it for a couple of days, and it's only now that I fully understand why that quote applied to me. I understand why I got mad.

The mental limitations that I make for myself are defense mechanisms. I never thought I would get what I want. I told myself I would never be in relationship, I wouldn't be loved, and that I was damaged goods. I was committed to that narrative.

If I got anything from that video, it's that a lot of American people do the same thing.  Well,  I'm changing my mind.  The narrative is evolving.

Mute.

I've been blog shy lately.

I started this blog under really different circumstances many years ago.

I would emotionally barf all of my thoughts, neurosis, and musings without any sort of control. Every blogger goes through some of transition, but the even larger change I'm about to face has left me kind of quiet.

When I started this blog in 2009 I had no idea that I would actually pursue a career in writing.

Blogging back then was a means for me to get through a day job that I wasn't happy in.  I've seen a lot of the blog posts that I used to write back then and they make me cringe, but I'm more forgiving and sympathetic to the person I was back then.

I'm grateful to everyone and everything that gave the opportunity to succeed and fail. Every bad post has led up to this moment :)

Happyness

I opened up my email from NorthWestern University....

"Christina - just left you a phone message. Congratulations on your acceptance to Northwestern's MFA in Writing for the Screen and Stage. I'm just confirming on behalf of the faculty our hope that you'll be joining us next year."

I was at my internship mind you when I received this email. I fought the urge to scream it out loud to the whole office, but I instead kept it to myself and told them I had to move my car.

As I walked to my car I wailed into my hands. The sun was beaming onto my face as the happiest tears of my life streamed down my face.  I would smile, then laugh, then cry, and repeat the cycle over and over again until I was able to get to the car and call my mom.

"Mom they accepted me. I can't believe they accepted me."

"I'm so proud of you honey."

"Mom, I've never been so happy."

I had kicked my own fucking ass for so long.  Every horrible moment that lead up to Tuesday had made sense and the oldest of pain was finally able to go away.  I fell to my knees, kissed the floor, and looked to the sky.  As a little girl I had always wanted to be a professional writer, and now I have the rest of my life to be one.

I'm grateful that I didn't get into grad school twice before. This was the school I was meant to get into. I am no longer going to be taken away from my life's purpose.

This part of my life... this little part is called happyness.

I am a motherfucking writer.

I've been in deep reflection.

I'm starting to see the rewards of my sacrifice, and it's almost to the point where I could collapse and kiss the floor.  I'm so close to getting what I want and the anticipation is maddening.

There is no other feeling like realizing your purpose in life. You can't package it or simplify it. It really takes going through the journey.  I'm emotional just writing about it, because there were so many years where I just caught in the fog. I was always meant to be a writer.  I am a motherfucking writer.

The events that led to me to this place do not define me.  The journey was crazy,  but the destination is awesome.

Whitney.

I've shutting off my feelings each time a celebrity succumbs to addiction. I didn't know them. The music industry doesn't take care of them. There's nothing I can do. I had an inappropriate attraction to Michael Jackson as a kid, which I learned to shut off as I got older. Amy Whinehouse was awesome, but we all saw that coming. Then there is Whitney Houston.  It's a little harder to shut it off this time.

The year that the movie Bodyguard came out my 5th grade friend Billy Garcia had just died. He was hit by a diesel truck on a main street by our school. Coincidentally I just wrote a piece about him for one of my writing workshops, and since I've shared his story there have been other memories that have surfaced.

When I was dealing with my first death at ten years-old, "I Will Always Love You" was the song of that year. Every time I heard it, it was as if Whitney was pulling out the pain from me with her own hands.

But as the years passed, that song was over sang by every so called R&B artist and it lost its sentiment.  I got tired of it,  because it became cheesy.

However, in the past week since hearing about her death I am genuinely sad when I hear that song again.  Hearing her voice helped me tremendously during a rough time, and to watch her fade the way that she did has been heartbreaking.

I've spent the whole morning watching her videos. She has a voice that pierces through the heart. There has been no other. Whitney we love. Thank you for helping me.

The Moment Has Arrived

Preparing for my skype interview

The moment is approaching where I'm going to start hearing back from schools. Because of this my anxiety has been working in overdrive, and I could barely hold a thought at times.

I had a big interview with a big name university yesterday, and I was a nervous Nelly.

Ugh, I felt like I was getting ready for a date. I was pacing back and forth from my bedroom to the bathroom, changing outfits, doing my hair, and picking the right makeup.

My Skype look was natural, but artistic professional.  Just to make sure I looked okay I opened up photobooth on my mac,  just to see how I would look on video.

Upside... skin looked good... thanks MAC brush 187... downside.... I seriously need a haircut.

I spent most of yesterday morning preparing answers and making sure I was well versed with the program.  I had it ingrained in my mind that this school is the one for me, and I need to nail it. I'm a serious writer.... damn it!

When our Skype interview started I was immediately taken aback that there was a panel in front of me.  I don't know where their camera was, but I felt far away from them. I had issues hearing their questions, and I was unsure if they were hearing my answers. They asked a couple of questions that threw me off, like what my favorite TV shows and plays were. I usually love answering this question, but I was a babbling Barbara.

They told me that they loved my writing sample.  EEEEEE! *cue me dying inside* I was already smiling a lot, but I was beaming when I heard that.

The last question that they asked me is "What would I contribute to my class if I were accepted?" I told them that I'm compassionate and patient, and that I do my best to help writers align their  work with their values.

I guess they liked that answer, because I got a lot of nods. When the interview was done I was on the verge of tears. I didn't feel as poised as I wanted to be. I'm a stickler about communicating things clearly and I wasn't a 100% sure that I did with this interview.

What about my five year plan? What about how this university fits with my writing? GAGH, I had so many other things I wanted to talk about. WOMP WOMP

My mom was telling me over the phone "Don't over analyze it Honey. You're going to make yourself sick."

Whenever my mom calls me Honey it brings me back to being a kid again, which is what I needed to snap me out of my anxiety.  I have to leave it to the gods. Wish me luck y'all

Good Days

I had an awesome week. I'm learning a lot in my new internship and I'm meeting a lot of dope people.  I've been blessed to be surrounded by great writers, dancers, film makers, stylists, and so on. They let me know that a creative career is possible. I continue to live on a prayer.

When I have a good day... I try to look like this.....



 But inside I feel like this.....


By the way. I've submitted my FINAL grad school application. I'm relieved and exhausted at the same time.

Toodles

There's not enough shopping or baking to make up for my neurosis, but because of it, I have a bitchin shoe collection right now.

It was suggested to me to put all of the things that trigger worry into a box, so I did. Now it's in a storage unit that is far away from me.

It's been a couple of days since I've done this, and I'm ashamed to admit that I miss some of the items. I know this is strange. You shouldn't have to miss the things that worry you, but sometimes the worry is a comfort when you are by yourself in a large city.

I have a couple of nieces and nephews who are about to enter adult hood.  Some of them are very afraid to grow up. I have very clear memories of their parents when they were teenagers,  and the attitude towards growing up couldn't be any different.

It's so funny to me, because I was like a bat out of hell when I turned 18. All of a sudden I could stay out all night, I could date, and do all the debouchary that I had always wanted to do. Now I would beg the gods to let me go back to high school so I can do it over again. So I guess, I don't blame my nieces and nephews for not wanting to grow up.

I have one more school to apply to, and then I just sit on my hands and wait. It's time to for the stressful ritual of looking for a job.  I need to channel my worry from comfort to motivation. Lets get it cracking.

NYC 08-2011

I love going to New York to recharge. I have really dope friends who are willing to host me, even if it means sharing a bed with them for a week. My twin from another coast Michelle did just that. Before I left my goal was to walk around New York and be cute, eat a lot, dance like fairy, be drunk like pirate, and do some hipster shit.

Well... all of those things were accomplished except for being cute. We ate and drank so much that I went to NYC with one chin and came back with like five. Which is why there are barely and pictures of me! I took pictures of only the food and below is everything I ate in NYC. Enjoy!

My favorite NYC Italian place Celeste is Michelle's pride and joy. You can find her enthusiastic review on the yelp page.

Linguine Vongole: Celeste

Penne with tomato sauce and mozzerella: Celeste

Tiramisu: Celeste
I had a ravenous craving for an NYC slice and I didn't care where. I apologize I can't remember the name.

Random Pizza Place by Radio City Music Hall

It was a Filipino Fat ass night. We went to a BBQ buffet that scrumptious enough to get the most committed of dieters to leave weight watchers. I'm lucky that none of my friends are on a diet!

Brisket, BBQ Chicken, Corn Bread, Macaroni and Cheese, Green beans: Hill Country BBQ

The owner chatted up with me and Chelle the day before. We stopped by for some wine and key lime pie!

Key Lime Pie: Brooklyn Public House
There was a post on Vashtie that got me super obsessed with trying Trini food. I couldn't freaking find it, but Chelle found Sugar Cane. Although it was pretty pricey, I suppose it was a good introduction to Trini food for this Asian girl from the bay.

West Indian Honey drizzled Fried Chicken with plantains and red rice: Sugar Cane

Chicken Roti: Sugar Cane
Fiore is Celeste's more expensive cousin. If you are in the Brooklyn area this is a great place to eat.
Vongole and Penne Carbonara: Fiore (Boobs not included)

Burrata Salad: Fiore
Eataly is a super duper Italian market place that is the brain child of Mario Batali, Lidia Bastianich, and her son Joe Bastianich. Inside is a my fantasy wet dream of cured meats, cheeses, and pastas that will surely fill my tomb when I meet the inevitable. Surrounded by posh dresses and suited stockbrokers, I felt a little out of my element until I started to eat. If you are in Soho and do not have the time to make it to Little Italy. This is definitely a good stop.

Cheese and Antipasto: Eataly

Lasagna and Cacio y Pepe Pasta: Eataly

Me in the midst of a wet dream

Smorgasburg Food Market in Brooklyn: This day was awesome. It was super pricey, but I felt that all of the food that we ate was great quality. It's a foodie's fantasy to be around so much yumness. Warning if you hate Hipsters, yeah, just look at the food. Keep your eyes on the food.

Noodles with peanut sauce, Lobster roll, and Chorizo sandwich: Smorgisburg food market

I am not a sports girl. I know like the minimal... if that. I had a tomboy phase where I wanted to play in little league so I know SOME of how baseball is supposed to work. My high school friend Mikey had an extra ticket and the day off, so I decided to visit the new Yankee Stadium.

I am a Giants fan, and it hurts me to say this, but the Yankees are a fucking magnificent team. I witnessed my first live grand slam. It was awesome. The fans are super loyal and fun to be around. Mikey had a bunch of useful bla bla bla about the Yankees being the oldest team, the most expensive team, and yadda yadda.... omg I just ate the best freaking philly cheese steak sandwich of my life....

Carl's Steaks Yankee Stadium: Philly Cheese Steak with onions and White Wiz

Photo from the web (cuz I ate all of it before I thought of taking a picture)

The Yankees played a great game that day. Ironically they were playing the LA Angels. I'm not sure if this was a sign of my future plans, but all I could think about was that damn Philly Cheesesteak sandwich! I loved it so much I took a picture at the stand. I have a feeling these dudes are used to random Asian chicks wanting to take pics, so they hammed it up for the shot. LOL.

I think it's safe to say David Chang is responsible for the pork bun fad. I've eaten at two of his restaurants Milk Bar and Momofuku Noodle Bar. David Chang's creations have popped up in all sorts of magazines and the young chef has even made an appearance on Anthony Bordain's No Reservations. His pastries and noodle dishes are scrumptious and familiar enough for the Asian palate. His legacy is in the buns. Pork buns that is. They will make you quiver.
You know I was dreaming about some Shake Shack. I had it last year and I couldn't stop thinking about their burger. I had it this time around and I didn't feel the amaze balls. It could be I had a week of eating and fatness and I just didn't care anymore. I would rate Shake Shack as the NYC equivalent to In and Out. Yeah..... eat here when you haven't eaten for like three days.

I saw my brother and his best friend while I was in NYC and I was about to jump both of them to get their take out dumplings. It was stuck in my head so I begged Mikey to take me to Chinatown. He had Vanessa's Dumplings on his Yelp Bookmarks and geez oh my... it was great! Mikey and I spent ten dollars for 16 dumplings, 1 sandwich, and two cokes. Fatness I tell you! Fatness on a budget is the way to go.

Sesame Pancake Sandwich with Pork Belly: Vanessa's Dumplings
Shrimp Dumplings: Vanessa's Dumplings
Pork and Chive Dumplings drowning in Siracha and Sexy dumpling sauce: Vanessa's dumplings
I've been following Chef Eddie Huang's blog Fresh Off the Boat and was excited to try his restaurant Bao Haus. He was featured in the Paper Tigers story that I mentioned earlier this year, and you know, I just dig it when Asian Americans challenge this whole ching chong ling long ting tong business. His Baos were omg... hella good. Don't be fooled they will fill you up.

And I hella forget everything we ordered.Whatever had fried chicken and pork belly will do you just fine: Bao Haus

Playing Ketchup

I've spent the past two days catching up on my writing for The Undeniables. If it weren't for my helpful guide "The Writers Block book" I'm not sure if this would have been possible. Fortunately, it's therapeutic to write fiction and rewrite reality to fiction ;)

My brain feels really spent. I'm going do some editing later. It just feels good to be creating stuff again.

Of course like the rest of the world. I'm consumed with the foreseen death of Amy Winehouse. Her second album Back to Black was the only pop album that I bought in 2006, and at the time I hadn't felt that awakened since The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. Of course the rest of the world embraced her musical genius, and like I, was unable to fathom why this beautiful girl would squander all of her success on drugs.

It's not that simple. I've avoided reading anything about her in recent years. It was just so sad to see pictures of bloodied fights with her husband and those damn ballet slippers. I remember running into a picture of her walking around the streets on London with nothing but a bra and jeans in tears.

The whole world is speculating on these reasons, and dissecting every possible angle. I can't help, but listen to her albums and get the chills.