hellohello

I had a dream last night that it was legal to have a seal as a pet. And of course, I had to have one. So I had a pool (it looked vaguely like Teresa’s backyard) and a super fat harbor seal. SO FAT AND BLUBBERY. It was like a slippery fat puppy that you could swim with!

When I woke up, I tried to fall asleep again so the dream would continue, but alas, it did not :( 

Those Kit Kat radio commercials makes it seem like taking a Kit Kat break turns you into an uncooperative douchebag. (hmm that was awkwardly worded).

If my boyfriend ever mouthed off to me while eating a candy bar, I’d smack it out of his hands. Or take it and eat it. Grrr.

I discovered today that it is retardedly easy to access the savings account that my grandmother set up for me when I was born. I won’t say what’s in there, but basically, if I wanted to, I could drop everything and travel for a decade or two (not extravagantly, but you know, like a college student). Which is what I’ve been thinking about all day.

I follow hundreds of travel blogs. I was addicted to Rick Steve’s Europe on PBS for much of my middle school years, when it would air on a pretty regular basis. Whenever I see my passport, I feel an immediate pang of disappointment that there are only two stamps in it, one for London and one for Switzerland. I could leave. I’ve always wanted to. I entertained the idea of moving abroad for a while. America seems like such a dreary place at times. I’m sure this is an instance of “the grass is greener on the other side” and I’m well aware of all the issues that other countries have with poverty, racism, socialism, and censorship. But the consensus among people I know who are from other countries or who have lived for an extended period of time in other countries is that life moves at a slower pace in many of these places and that’s how I want to live my life. I work hard, but I refuse to work too hard-if my relationships suffer, if I am constantly stressed or if I am just plain miserable, I won’t do it. France gets a month of paid vacation? America doesn’t require that employers give you any. And yet I can’t say that the average French company is less productive than the average American company. 

I want to learn to cook in Paris. I want to drink wine in Italy and drive an awful little sports car. And I want to eat crickets in Asia. I want to drink real whiskey in Ireland. I want to hike around in Peru. In a few years, I might not want that. I’m young and idealistic and restless for adventure now, and circumstances have given me this window of time where I don’t have responsibilities and I can go. I don’t want to get stuck living this suburban life, wondering what else is out there for me. 

But alas, there’s always that threshold of fear. Fear of being alone. Fear of danger. Fear of a lack of plan. Fear of leaving the people who matter to me. I like having my family near, especially my grandparents. I love that my friends are nearby and always there for me. I love my boyfriend, who is amazing and good to me and always has my back. If I left, what would happen? My family would think I’m foolish, because that money is supposed to be for when I buy a house or for investing, or some other important thing. My grandmother might die before I return. My friends would miss me (so I hope!). And the boy…I don’t even know. Things would change when I’m away. I would come back to a place I might not recognize. 

Staying here would be hard. It’d be hard to constantly yearn for what I have never seen. But leaving is just as hard. There really is no easy decision. It was never a possibility before, so I never had to seriously ponder it, but now that it is staring at me point blank in the eyes, I have to think about it. Can I drop everything, take my money to the airport, and say “Take me as far as I can go”? 

I have been a lot less stressed out lately. I had a good kick in the butt in the right direction. I know what I don’t want to do, but more importantly, I’m finding out what I actually want to do. I’m a creator-everything I do that I love has to do with the creation of something meaningful from little bits of nearly nothing. Cooking, drawing, writing, even knitting, all come down to making beautiful, tangible things out of simple ingredients. That’s what I like to do, and what I want to do from now on. 

…after finishing traffic school and filing my taxes. Sigh!

Went looking for Vegas dresses today at Valley Fair but ended up with a dress that Zooey Dechanel would wear (OH SNAPS that rhymed!).

Skintight and skanky really isn’t my thing. I wear a lot of stripes, lace, small florals, plaid and ruffles. Cardigans and blazers and tights with black flats. I don’t own a single thing with rhinestones. I like combining dark grey and bright yellow. On my lazy days I wear skinny jeans and a funny tshirt, with Rainbows (or my fluffy mocs in the winter). None of this translates well into Vegas clubwear. 

Maybe I should just go to Wet Seal and buy the cheapest trashiest rhinestoney dress I can find. After all, it is Vegas and there is tequila to be spilled. 

I spend all of my days at work, and going out and drinking and eating and some may say that’s the life, but nothing beats sitting on the couch with my friend’s kitty and watching Anthony Bourdain eat strange animal parts. All day long.

Hell yeahhh

Dear Wisconsin,

I toyed with the possibility of working for Quad Graphics back in my college years. After all, Quad is a wonderful company with an insane company culture and lots of perks. It’s the Google of commercial printing. With that job though, came the requirement that I live somewhere in your boundaries. I considered it. All the Wisconsinites I’d ever met were nice, polite and could drink me under the table (something I admire greatly). Alas, California’s weather and my family and friends kept me here but still, I always wondered what it would be like if I had moved.

NOW I’M REALLY GLAD I FUCKING STAYED HERE. For reals guys? You dump your wonderfully ethical, logical, Patriot-Act hating senator for some lobbyist businessman dipshit that didn’t get his GED? He has no idea what he’s doing. And then you elect a governer without a college degree? How is that a good idea?! What is wrong with you? I considered you to be fairly intelligent. I know you all want “Change”, but there is a such thing as changing for the worse. After all, Russ Feingold is the kind of guy I thought we all wanted - he doesn’t stick to party lines, he is notoriously frugal in his spending, and he isn’t a pushover to lobbyists and big business. If I didn’t live in California, I’d vote for him. But then again, I’m a liberal hippie from the Bay Area and I’m wired way different than most people probably are.

I can thank you for one thing; I appreciate California so much more now. We didn’t elect the psychotic ex-Ebay exec or the bitch that nearly ruined HP. Instead, we got the 72 year old, slightly creepy looking old man that knows what he’s doing. And we stuck with one of the most powerful female senators in the country. And Gavin Newsom is lieutenant governor! We did it right (err, mostly). You guys fucked up hard.

Whatever. I don’t even like cheese.

No love at the moment,

Alice

Boss just called me “so European” for eating nutella and a croissant. Really? I never thought anything of it

I went to a Kahoo Ramen for dinner with Wyman today and decided that since I currently have nothing to bring for lunch at work for tomorrow, I’d grab something at Mitsuwa! After all, a Japanese grocery store usually has cute baked goods, some bento and donburi bowls, and other delicious things that come conveniently packaged for me to shove in the fridge at work. And Japanese food is good for you! I’m trying to eat better anyways! No more cookies and Kettle Chips for lunch! 

Ten minutes later, I emerged with a bottle of sake, some crackers, and a package of strawberry gummy candy. 

…..*sigh* 

Never thought I’d have a Britney song stuck in my head again but….dammit Glee!

Also, stupid Brittany makes me want to work out extra hard for a six pack (instead of just pigging out and counting on my metabolism to just make my tummy flatish) Sigh.

Alice’s secrets to happiness (that aren’t really secrets but they appear to escape people)

Don’t work too hard

Have something to come home to

Be willing to do anything for those you love

Ignore those who piss you off

Drive fast and sing loud

Never pass up an opportunity to flirt

Pet every dog you walk by

Make fun of your friends and let them laugh at you too

Never diet 

But do go rock climbing and hiking

Drink good beer and lots of wine but avoid the tequila

Never mourn, just get on with it

Believe in true love

Don’t regret the things you’ve done

Be a sarcastic prick when appropriate

Don’t talk if you have nothing to say

Play songs on repeat until they become part of you

Smile at strangers

Share drunk stories, they’re the best kind, and don’t be afraid to be the trashy drunk girl

Try anything once but bail if you don’t dig it

It’s better to be happy than rich and successful and the two are not mutually exclusive

Bubba the Betta hasn’t been eating recently. He’s all skinny and grey. Being a two year old fish, he’s probably a bit on the old side, and the stress from my move from SLO and my roommate’s sadistic stupid cat probably didn’t help. 

Sigh. Watching a fish in its last days is such a depressing thing.