Indulgence

HR, one of my closest friends at Oxy, is the queen of indulgence. I would have made her proud this weekend. On Friday, MS, ACM, and I treated ourselves to dinner at the Green Street Tavern to celebrate MS's last weekend in town. The next morning KC,MW,MS and I had brunch at Auntie Em's, an Oxy staple. With my belly full and my wallet considerably lighter, I revved up for our Saturday hike. KC, MS and I spent the day at Switzer falls. The falls are located only 20 minutes away, and here's the kicker: YOU CAN SLIDE DOWN THEM. Needless to say, I could not have asked for a better day. However, all of this fun was also served with a heaping pile of guilt. I can't help but wonder why I have all of these wonderful experiences, people, opportunities, freedoms, (infinite list) in my life. I don't feel as though I've done anything incredible to merit these gifts. I certainly don't believe I deserve these things more than the next person. But I suppose I'll never come to a definitive answer, so all I can do is feel unspeakably grateful. Occasional indulgence is amusing but gratitude is always bliss.

Ollie

(Tuesday) As we crest Fiji, KC and I find that we are not alone. For those of you unversed in Oxy lingo, let me back up. Fiji is a hill at the edge of campus which offers a completely unobstructed 360 view of the surrounding area. The virgin ascent is an Oxy rite of passage. After that you're hooked. Tonight, a wiry man in his late 40s wearing a faded windbreaker and old denim reclines on one of the benches. Now normally, running into a strange man would trigger my fight or flight instincts, but this fellow has absorbed the serenity of his perch. Situated above the smog, with lines of lights trickling down distant roads, and sounds soothing one another, the venue offers a perspective to tame LA's infamous chaos. The sprawl becomes understandable, manageable, peaceful. KC and I plop down on the neighboring bench. The man turns to us, "I'm sorry I'll be getting out of here in a minute." We assure him that his presence is no bother. That's all it takes. Before we know what's hit us we are immersed in a conversation that is equal parts astronomy lesson, life-story sharing, and theological discussion. The man shows us which planets are visible tonight, and explains the mythology behind the Eagle Rock that gives the city its name. He has a childlike quality to him that I can't pinpoint, and it causes me to wonder if his teachings are complete fabrications. It doesn't matter. He goes on to agonize over the state of humanity, or in his words "my brothers and sisters of this planet." I ask him about his God and learn that he is Muslim. He tells us about growing up in Eagle Rock and long summers spent tearing around Oxy. He tells us he used to be a punk who would lie, cheat, and steal. He laughs and so do we. We learn about his childhood mentor, an Oxy baseball legend and coach. He tells us this coach used to say, "Now look, there's only two types of people in this world: those who care, and those who don't. It's that simple." I can tell that this man is the first type. I want to believe that I am also. We all pause to take in the evening and its then that KC and I realize that we've made some hungry mosquitos very happy, and that night is fast approaching. As we prepare to leave, the man says he wants to wait at the top so he can see that we get down OK before he descends the opposite side. We turn to thank him and introduce ourselves. He tells us his name is Ollie. I reach out my hand and he responds with a firm shake. And then we hug. With the precedent set, KC skips the handshake and goes straight for the embrace. We all laugh again. Ollie smiles at us and says, "Thanks. I don't get many hugs these days." My heart breaks. I want to stay up on Fiji and hug Ollie until the end of time, but instead we part ways and walk off into the night.

Fences

This weekend was a blur of activity. Actions, and interactions all bleeding together in the wash. In order to take it all in imagine you are driving by a wooden fence. As you zoom past you catch glimpses of a scene through the spaces between the slats. You weave together the negative space, crafting a loose net that catches the essence. Got it? Good. Start your engines. Friends sit atop a washer and dryer on PF's balcony. Music and chatter creep out from under the door frame. The party beckons but it can wait a few minutes. Flash. Another house. A few more people. Bodies spilling out onto the front lawn, drawn by the irresistible coolness of the night. Flash. Five kids swim in a sea of light. The waters of the illuminated Eagle Rock Pool churn as the companions leap from the life guard stands, race, backflip, flop, play. Clothes sit abandoned in piles by a chain-linked fence that was so recently scaled. Inhibitions and maturity keep them company, all useless on a summer night. Flash. A similar scene, yet an entirely different vibe: the Oxy pool during the day. Swimmers stuck on replay, following invariable routes back and forth, back and forth. Sunbathers lay prostrate praying for color. Sunscreen and tanning oils saturate the air. Music blares. Shoulders burn. Flash. KC and I sit in comfortable boredom on a set of steps. ACM and MS pull up. Flash. Shouts fill the air. Someone darts through the crowd pursuing a rogue ping pong ball. I catch the competitive spark in KC's eyes, which before long will evolve into a drunken gloss. Flash. "City Hall" fills with aromas of sauteed garlic, as I take my turn to feed the family. Food and drink get lazily passed around as Sunday draws to a close. We try to reflect on the weekend, but its a task better left to Sisyphus. There's too much. Lately it seems there is always too much, and in that I catch some bliss.

Dark Knight

Daisy's mental status:zombie mode. Cause: Batman midnight premiere triggered racing thoughts and inability to sleep further compounded by an 8 am arrival time at work. Suggested treatment: caffeine. Worth it? Absolutely. Last night brought about an unexpected surprise. I initially had plans to hang out with KC, MW, and PF to play a few games of bp, but after another exhausting BUTI workout drinking sank faster than the Titanic on my priority list. Just as I committed myself to a night in however, I got a call from MS. Because she would be turning 21 at midnight, she had an extra ticket to the premiere of "The Dark Knight Rises" and wanted to know if I was interested. She already knew the answer. My borderline unhealthy obsession with Christopher Nolan was itching for some fuel. Needless to say, the movie was incredible, and well, I'll leave it at that. After the film, we dragged our bodies from the theater while our minds lagged behind, still absorbed in the alternate reality we had occupied for the last two and a half hours. But soon enough we yanked ourselves out of the daze and launched into an analysis of the movie that would continue all the way home. We were so absorbed that we barely noticed the coupon that an employee handed us as we exited the theater. Assuming it was useless garbage, we were thrilled by our final surprise of the evening. It was a pass to enjoy a free movie. HAPPY BIRTHDAY MS! We couldn't believe our luck, and I was astounded at the abundance the universe had endowed me all in one evening. I would tell you what movie we will be seeing next week, but I think you can probably guess.

Anticipation

I try, and am generally quite successful, at living in the present. But right now as I sit bored and antsy at my desk (don't tell on me please)I need a healthy dose of future to get me through the day. For the past few weeks I've been obsessively checking my e-mail to find out which of the pre-orientation OxyEngage trips I'll be leading. Just checked again, no update. I'm counting down the minutes to Yoga at 7. I'm jumping for joy because KC and I are buying tickets for The xx AND for Dr. Dog. I'm plotting adventures for WS's visit this weekend. I am ecstatic whenever I think about the upcoming semester. For my friends to return, for the people I have yet to meet. For the endless studio hours. For getting back into rock climbing. The list goes on. So maybe its better to live in the moment, but a little positive anticipation can't hurt either.

Family Dinner

I imagine the scene from outside the window. Six twenty-somethings gathered around the Sunday dinner table laughing and digging into a homemade chicken pot pie. Mason jars serve as glasses, and paper towels are ripped off and passed around. MH, aka "mom" provided the venue and the food. MW claims to have helped. PF brought popsicles and a new friend. Not to mention he brings the only testosterone to the table this evening. KC, fresh from her trip to Berkley, brought me. As for me, well I got one heck of a deal: free food and good company. As I stuff myself past capacity,I glance around the table and feel nothing but fondness for the people occupying the other chairs. Laughing about our weekend escapades, showing our love by poking fun, and sharing a banter peppered with inside jokes, I catch myself wondering: how did this happen? Aside from KC, these people were merely strangers or footnotes in my life story. But now, reasoning aside, we've come together this summer and there is no denying that we have become an impromptu, dysfunctional, but happy family. I wonder what's for dinner next week?

Single Ladies

Today I cashed in on a free introductory class with M at a new yoga/fitness studio that opened up down the street. The class was called "BUTI", and the title couldn't have been more fitting. I say this because the class was basically a combination of yoga and shake-your-moneymaker club dancing. No, I didn't know such a thing existed either. At first, as I tried to mimic the impossible orbits that the instructor traced with her hips, I felt like a middle-schooler at my first dance. But a few minutes into the class I closed my eyes and let just myself flow. I laughed. I shook it. I sweated until I was slipping in my downward dogs. I felt energized, strong, and most importantly, I felt sexy. And not because some man was gawking at my newfound dancing abilities. No, in this room full of women, it just felt good to move. And so we forgot about one another. We glanced at the instructor, listened to her cues, but we departed. We were lost in the wonderlands of our own bodies, drunk off of our own beauty. Today I got more than just a free class. I enjoyed a full hour and a half of bliss. I loved my body, because every imperfection aside, look at all it allows me to do. Likewise, I loved my mind for taking the backseat for a bit, as I thought with my heartbeats and remembered with my breaths. And I was reminded, at an age where boys take up an appalling amount of my consciousness, that as nice as it is to have a lover, a crush, a fling, there is nothing better than falling back in love with yourself. To steal a song lyric from Third Eye Blind, "I've never been so alone, and I, I've never been so alive."

Secret Garden

Today I ventured to the Highland Theater to catch a three dollar movie with I. I found myself surrounded by both the poverty and quirkiness that I am sometimes starved for living on a college campus. As we hurried up a street with unkempt lawns and peeling paint, something magical caught my eye. Sandwiched between two large and decrepit brick buildings, a small garden teaming with life waved proudly at me. Her vines and plants hung heavy with some of the most enticing vegetables I've ever seen, and I fought the urge to dash in and pull a Peter Rabbit. I resisted because this was not my bounty to enjoy. Instead, I looked on at the families bent over on a hot afternoon to maintain this precious parcel, and I smiled to myself while silently thanking them. I thanked them for reminding me that people can still come together to create some good in this world. That beauty thrives in shadows and hides in plain sight. That sometimes the good guy wins. And I imagined, with the slightest twinge of jealousy, the bliss that will come to these families when they finally get to sink their teeth into one of those mouthwatering tomatoes.

Desert Storm

I'm nine years old playing hopscotch with with my neighbor. Lines of chalk creep from the front porch over uneven plateaus of concrete mapping a trail with no real destination. Summer has arrived and with it comes a hot dry air that is more suffocating than sustaining. The heat shoos the adults inside, and we laugh at their folly as they pass up an irreclaimable summer day. For us the antidote to the heat is as simple as a popsicle or a run through the hose. So we tirelessly stamp our feet all over the concrete, when suddenly we detect a change. Maybe it is a sixth sense that comes with being a desert kid, for this is long before we worried about the morning news and the 5-day forecast, but suddenly we know its about to rain. The air thickens and tenses in our lungs as we hold our breath for the gift that is about to come. Yet despite our anticipation, the storm still manages to catch us by surprise. In seconds the world around us is transformed. The sun departs its roost to course through our veins as we accept the weight of the entire sky falling upon us. We laugh and scream in delight, but every word that leaves us is an orphan lost to the sounds of water exploding. This is before the thunder and lightning crash the party. It is long before the rain stops falling. Before it leaves us with a smell almost as enlivening as the downpour itself, like a lovers smell lingering on the sheets. It is long before we know about that kind of love. And in that moment we feel something we don't have the word to describe, that only now we realize is something called bliss. And we fail to notice the sweet swirl of color as our chalk is swept away.