Last week, my roommate asked me, “If you had a billboard on which you could post a single message, what would it say?” Naturally – my response was “absolutely not.” Turns out she’d asked the same question two years ago, and I replied the same. I am nothing if not consistent…and this is coming from a person who hasn’t felt her feelings in real-time since 1991 (instead, noticing a psychosomatic reaction such as nausea that forces her to later identify and dissect a feeling before suppressing it). Consistency is key! As much as I appreciate consistency, I likewise admire self-discipline, finding them to be tightly correlated.
Discipline and consistency govern the morning rituals of successful individuals like Barack Obama (five hours of sleep, no coffee, and a 45-minute workout), Ariana Huffington (30-minute meditation, 40-minute workout), and Jack Dorsey (5am wake-up, 30-minute meditation, 7-minute workout). Sticking to a morning routine (or any rigid routine) remains challenging for me, but I push myself to expand my knowledge and be proactive in my approach to life. And that’s better than nothing. We should all strive for more discipline in our lives.
But just in case you still think I’m succeeding at the whole self-discipline thing, please find KōL skipping below as proof of my failed summer tennis experiment.
For those of you who don’t have Spotify, here’s a list of the songs:
There She Goes by The La’s
London Calling by The Clash
Train in Vain by The Clash
That’s Entertainment by The Jam
I’m Good by The Mowgli’s
Light Me Up by Bronze Radio Return
Gone by JR JR
Oxford Comma by Vampire Weekend
Hello, Goodbye by The Beatles
Saturday Night by Natalia Kills
Sweet Disposition by The Temper Trap
No One’s Here To Sleep by Naughty Boy, Bastille
R.I.P. 2 My Youth by The Neighbourhood
All Day by Kanye West
Black Water by Timber Timbre
California English by Vampire Weekend
Keep It Together by Fyfe
Eleanor Rigby by The Beatles
No No No by Beirut
Do My Thang by Miley Cyrus
Time Capsule by Little Simz
Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys
Someday by The Strokes
Lovely Day by alt-J
England by The National
Guess I’m doing Fine by Bob Dylan
Lost in My Mind by The Head and the Heart
Water by Ra Ra Riot (+ Rostam!)
London Beckoned by Panic! At The Disco
We’ve Been Dreaming by Echotape
Numb by Marina and the Diamonds
Hurricane by MS MR
Clearest Blue by CHVRCHES
This Could Be Love by Borgeous
Moments by Tove Lo
Kuaga by Pierce Fulton
Come Back Home by Two Door Cinema Club
The last one is because Lexi (like keg) wants to make sure I don’t extend my trip millions of times & never come back.
Living with two intelligent women who expose me to the scientific side of fashion has taught me that unlike fashion trends, personal style is unwavering. Sometimes, Lex will forward a photograph and mention it reminded her of me. I haven’t yet figured out what mold she thinks I fall into, but I enjoy noting her observations. This exercise has also made me aware that I project an image to those around me. We all do. Some stick to a classic approach, mixing basics, and others are more experimental.
I dress like a scrub most times and if that is what identifies me, I don’t mind it one bit. There’s no harm in embracing the imperfect with a touch of insouciance.
The holidays came and went as quickly as New York entered Snowpocalypse 2016. Since moving to NYC, I’ve forged a few meaningful relationships that have been taking up most of my time and I couldn’t be more pleased with the arrangement. Activities include brunching for eight hours and apartment dance parties.
The bad news is I’m guilty of neglecting the blog. The good news is I’ve been negligent because there’s so much life happening!
For instance, the Air + Style festival. The Los Angeles sky poured and poured all day Sunday, but when you combine a rain lover with an over planner who keeps extra blankets and umbrellas in the trunk, a little rain is no problem. The same cannot be said about the badass skiers, who had to cancel the latter half of the competition due to poor weather.
Alas, we were predominantly there to watch Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeroes, The Flaming Lips, & Steve Aoki. They were all fantastic, The Flaming Lips were as artsy as ever and the advantage of a rainy Steve Aoki performance became obvious when he caked everyone, but Edward Sharpe & TMZ played the best and most heartfelt set.
I also have a new job. It’s a pediatric cancer research nonprofit and I’m so so very happy there. I needed something that blended policy and healthcare together and this was the perfect place.
My domesticity continues, as I’ve slowly learned to cook things other than breakfast.
Lastly, I have tons of life-altering decisions to make within the next few weeks/months. Will keep you all posted.
Now you all know I’m still alive & still not good at writing!
A couple weeks ago, I attended a political event in a beautiful Studio City home for Emerge California. They’re dedicated to training & grooming Democratic women to run & hold office, as the majority of our representatives lack ovaries.
Whenever I find myself in situations like that, my mind goes off in multiple tangents–ranging from my support of free booze to how I wish I were as good an orator as Kafi Blumenfield. Eventually, I asked myself, “What defines sexy?”
I was in the company of many strong/smart women. Yet on any given day/night, girls prance around the streets of LA as if it were some giant whorehouse. To show skin is to show skin but honestly, leaving nothing to the imagination seems like no fun at all.
I’m convinced that “sexiness” lies within you & you exude it. A sense of confidence & how you carry yourself, perhaps. Women who dress well, those whose thought-process extends beyond their look & can get what they want without having to remove an article of clothing, those are the women I look up to.
For those of you starting out at UCLA, it’s Zero Week, b/tches. This fall quarter may or may not include Kristen Stewart, as there has been mixed coverage over the summer that she plans to pursue a degree in English Literature. AKA switch her career path from mumbling on screen to making lattes (that’s funny because it’s mean). Clearly still wish I was still an undergrad, but I digress.
This past Saturday, I joined NRM at work; she’s the Cray-Police. Recently, she started working for Mountains Restoration Trust. MRT is a non-profit organization determined to preserve the ecosystem of the Santa Monica Mountains. Though her job title is not something as cool as the Cray-Police, she is part of a team responsible for trapping invasive crayfish. They measure them, determine their sex (“Am I confused? Yes? Then it’s a female), & use the data for research.
Aside from the biological composition of crayfish. I learned that “crayfish” & “crawfish” are synonymous. The terms are simply regional.
Nick explaining safety rules to adorable volunteer group of Boy Scouts.
Sometimes, they find fish in their traps. The most common ones are the chub (native) & the carpe (invasive). Chub fish go back into the water & carpe fish go to (look away, kids!) Fish Heaven.
NRM holding a chub & a carpe. Nick holding a crayfish. A creek holding inorganic & organic material behind them.