Archive for Napa


Posted in 37 with tags , , , , , on August 27, 2011 by ana

Maybe seeing Leo last week, rolling around, and pressing up against each other wasn’t such a good idea.  In the moment it seemed okay. The next day, this past week, I’ve felt fine. But the past few days I have been so emotional. I want love in my life- it’s no secret. And while I feel that I’m over Leo I don’t know that I’m over the heartache.

I spent the weekend in Napa with pregnant Nai and then drove down to visit Willa and spent a few days hanging out with her gorgeous one year old baby.  Both my friends are happy and in love. I’m happy that they are happy but I feel lonely. It’s a funny feeling to want something that feels completely out of my reach, something that I thought I had and that I thought was coming. I feel that it is time for something new but I think I’m still in the thick of it just in a different stage.

My fling in Italy helped and didn’t help. Something I thought would be light and breezy turned into unexpected feelings and strong desire I have had a hard time letting go of. The emails back and forth were probably not the best idea either.

Were the feelings for that man strong because he was the first man that I was with after Leo? I have wondered that more than once. Or was there something really there? Does it even matter?


Willa and I went to the beach. It was a beautiful, foggy beach with seals, cliffs, and redwoods, and I was all weepy. What I realized in talking with both my friends is that I’m angry. That I still somehow feel that the tables were turned on me. That I ended up so far from where I thought I would be and still there is the strong undercurrent, the knowledge that it was the best thing that happened to me.

Nothing like a six hour drive to clear your head. I drove the five freeway home with a vengeance and almost got pulled over.  The night before I left Willa said, “there is nothing you need to fix. You are perfect as you are and love will walk in when it will.” Anouk in an email said the same thing, perfect as you are. This is a revolutionary concept for me. I always feel like there is something I need to fix.

What is it then that is going on with me? What is it that keeps me from feeling completely full, from seeing the abundance I have in my life each day? I drink strong coffee in therapy and say, “there are so many ups and downs lately. I’m sad, and I’m also happy. I’m scared and excited.” I voice the fear that is creeping in about moving to Paris and all the things I have been learning about myself lately. “I think maybe I don’t need to go looking for a purpose. I think I just need to be me. Like you said, live each day fully. Do the things that fill my soul.” I voice my deep desire to connect with a man. To have a relationship that is a collaboration more than a compromise. I say, “I want a lover but sadly those never appear when I go looking for them.” I talk about how inspired I feel, and wonder why I am complaining. I am a broken record. Well, not broken, skipping.

“When you feel disappointment,” she says,  “you start to doubt. You keep expecting something to happen that will somehow create this ideal life you have in your head, this magical fantasy life keeps you from seeing the fullness, the excitement that is already there.”

She is right, I keep thinking I will find an enchanted doorway, a lucky coin, a magic lamp that will put me in some paradisal version of my life where macarons are eaten every morning for breakfast, everyday feels as exciting as brand new love and is filled with great sex and fabulous outfits and incredibly fulfilling creative endeavors. I know, ridiculous.

Later she says, “you always look for the wonderment in life.”

And I interrupt and say, “I know it is my downfall.”

“I was going to say is one of the best qualities about you.”

I need to stand in my own life complete and whole, absorb whatever comes my way, and be present to all of the amazing, dark, lovely mess that life is.

She says, “I’m excited for you.”

She says, “you need to write love letters to yourself. From the one that longs to the one that longs to be desired.”

And we talk about Paris. How it has been there for a long time, the thought, the idea, and now the leap. In a previous session she said, ” you keep asking for signs when they come you have to take them.”

And so Paris, Paris, Paris in January. Is it really happening? I feel the same way I felt before I moved to LA. I dosn’t feel real yet but it is there.

I have been trying to push myself. In the summer the restaurant doesn’t get busy until the sun starts to set. Chili and I talk about where we are, where we are going. I tell her, “I had a revelation the other day. I work hard but I never push myself.”

And she says, “my drumming teacher used to tell me- if you show up to rehearsal and do the same thing you always do that’s not practicing that’s just repetition. In order to practice you need to push yourself.”

For the last seven days I have been waking up and doing the opposite of what I always do. I haven’t reached for my laptop or phone. I have written “morning pages” stream of consciousness writing at least three pages long. Then I’ve sat down to meditate aiming for ten minutes maybe getting seven. Hey, it’s still something. I have gone running and not given up. And I’ve been working on being, on living life exactly as I want my life to be. I have been trying to live perfect days. Or at least doing my part.

Today I started sorting and organizing my room. I live with a very lovely and anal (no pun intended) gay man. I know that what I call neat is for him chaos. I live in his house for free so I try to keep things, try being the key word here, somewhat organized. I have a lot of stuff. Among it are boxes upon boxes of letters and journals, almost 20 years worth. I have moved with these boxes from Midtown to Harlem to the East Village to Brooklyn to Burbank to Hollywood to Koreatown and back to Burbank. Each time the boxes get heavier. Do I really need to hold on to all of it?  Watching The Cook, the Thief, the Wife, and her Lover, one of my favorite movies, I started to go through some of it. I read old letters some written to me, some rough drafts of letters I’ve sent. I read old journals from art school, from when I was seventeen, and from a few years ago. Certain themes emerged. The therapy workshop that I did was all bout shadows and patterns and looking at your defenses, and boy were those blatantly there. They sent me for a spin. They drove me out of my house to Stevie’s, where I am the resident squatter, because I can’t really write where I live. And writing I have been. And in between I had a long heart felt  conversation with my lovely designer friend who lives next door to Stevie. A conversation in his kitchen with cigarettes, tears, and trout steamed with lemon slices. His beautiful gowns hanging near by. I walked with Stevie’s man to buy bread and felt so much love for their neighborhood as we walked past succulents and lavender and blooming myrtle. I bought a perfect peach and felt the thing that I love to feel most these days- everything is okay. Everything is fine, perfect, magnificent just as it is.


Magic and gifts

Posted in 37 with tags on October 23, 2010 by ana

Thursday was lovely. My boyfriend and I had lunch at this very cute pub on Ventura Blvd. We sat at a corner table by a large open window and shared a burrata, grilled cheese with pears and an artichoke. He took pictures of me that came out really great. I asked him do you think this will be our last birthday together and he said, I don’t know but I love you. I love you too. I love you so much, we both kept telling each other.

It’s still raining in LA, and when we were done with lunch he drove me to my car. We kissed and kissed, and kissed. It was the most in love we have a felt in months. It felt like magic.

Yesterday, was my birthday. As I hit the road to come up north I thought, I can’t believe it, 37, I don’t feel that old. Not that it’s truly old but it’s no longer that young either. I don’t look 37, on any given day people guess I’m 26 or 27. Thank god, I thought, this is my particular genetic gift, like some girls get toned thighs with no cellulite or a full, thick mane of hair. I have cellulite and fine hair but at least I don’t look my age. Not that I’m not proud of being my age. I think aging is sexy, your wrinkles are your history. It’s just for as lost as I feel now it kind of feels good that I don’t look older.

I woke up in Napa, in bed by myself, warm under the covers with a slight drizzle outside. This may be how I wake up for a long time. I woke up thinking- I really, truly have no idea where I will be 6 months from now.

A birthday email read- I know the year ahead is going to be full of wonderful surprises and bring you so much closer to the woman you know yourself to be. This time next year we’ll be looking back in amazement, I just know it. And you know what, I really feel that way.

I started celebrating at the beginning of the week and will continue until Tuesday when my honey and I go for out for a fancy birthday dinner. Not all my birthdays last this long but it’s really nice, specially this year. I have felt so much love. Friends have taken me out for wine and cheese, bought me breakfast, made me pork chops for dinner. Every birthday wish I’ve made has been the same, not my usual to be more confident, to find creative fulfillment or for my dreams to come true, but to always be surrounded by love. I think about how much I focus on all the things I don’t have and not about all the wonderful things I do have. I have always been tenacious and curious. I have followed, with a pure heart, every creative practice that has piqued my interest, and I have always been surrounded by people who adore me and whom I am crazy about.

This morning while I was still sleepy I thought of my grandma, of both my grandmothers actually. My mother gave me a silver ring that she made, and she said it was like my paternal grandma’s magic ring, the one she would use to pretend to pour magical, healing love over a our bangs and bruises. Then I thought about Abuela, and how she would always say- never feel sorry for yourself. She said it so much it will always be engraved in my mind. Like magic, all these moments where I have felt sorry for myself, as of late, seem highlighted. Almost so that I could acknowledge that that is how I have been feeling. Not so I could get rid of the feeling but just notice it in that way that takes its power away.