Looking For Love.

"Life is a playground, and I'm looking for someone to play with."

Me, too, creepy child-stalker guy. Me, too.

Romance Us!

Major contest on Blogg!

The floral shop I work for is offering a Valentine's bouquet to the most romantic story we get! Our favourite stories will be posted throughout the month as inspiration and the best one will actually get a call to deliver flowers to the heart of your choice in the LA area (if you don't know anyone, you can have them sent to me- I like getting flowers, too!) Go to TheWoodsLA.blogspot.com to send us your best story!

24/7

Dear Chloe,
You are getting really skinny this season. But that does not make you any cuter. Just remember: anorexia does not pay.
We still think you are funny, though.
Stick to your strengths.












PS-
Jack,
Thank you for wearing those Harry Potter glasses. Your producers are really determined to flesh out this whole, "I'm a grandpa and vulnerable now" version of Kiefer. We're totally not buying it, but we are humoring your efforts.

Twin Beds = Celibate Men

It's not just true on "I Love Lucy." If a man is sharing a room and sleeping in a twin bed, one things is for certain: That guy is not getting laid.
Katie and I were talking the other night about men and twin beds, and she said, "There are only 3 times when a man should be sleeping in a twin bed and sharing a room. When he's a little boy, when he's on a mission, and when he's in college. But that is it. There is no reason for a man to be 30 and in a twin bed, still sharing a room." To which I proceeded to illustrate that two best friends (men), used to work for the same company, share the same room, and slept in...BUNK BEDS. I won't even get into the matching company cars and sync'd Milli Vanilli soundtracks. In any case, raised eyebrows at work aside, neither one got married until AFTER they'd moved away from each other and got queens. They're now married with kids and definately not gay.
Now, I recognize that (due to a little something called "morality"), NONE of us are getting any. However, the point is, that until you get out on your own, little soldier, and get a bed big enough for the both of us; no self-respecting woman is going to bed with a man who still lives like a boy.

Conclusion: If you are a man and are still sleeping in a twin bed and sharing a room, the chances of you getting a woman in there are about as good as Ricky Ricardo's. And that guy was already married.

Don't Cry.

Dear Jake,

I'll always love you and you are always perfect to me.

Even though you're single and super-buff now, I probably won't see "Prince of Persia" and that Jesus haircut has got to go.

LOST?

If you need a refresher of LOST in less than the 2 hour recap of last season's episode, I think the 5 Seasons in 5 Minutes version is pretty effective.
O, Jack. How I've missed you so.

Table for Two.

So I've been looking into working as a representative for an elderly care facility and they have a lot of tender, touching articles related to senior care. Don't worry- I'm not gonna make you cry, but I AM going to draw some correlations between senior health and the healthcare of a single person. Turns out, socializing at meals is GOOD for seniors- and I suggest that it's good for US, too. (Yaaay, for positive socializing to create healthy habits. Science probably eats a protein bar by himself in the basement.) Anyway, this article provides suggestions for how to better care for the nutritional needs of your senior. I think it sounds like a great idea for EVERYONE- senior or not. We make better choices when we have others around to hold us accountable and to inspire us to take our time and enjoy our food, as opposed to simply grabbing whatever's faster, easier and closest to the tv.
So go ahead and make a lunch date. Invite a friend or two for dinner. Share your food. Take some time to reconnect and talk over a real meal instead of hovering over the sink and eating that leftover cake from Saturday night's wedding. (Maybe I take some of my own advice sometimes, OKAY?!?) And what better excuse is there for a simple date than meeting up during the work week to have sandwiches outside together?
And, if you're asking, I'm totally down for eating whatever you're cooking. Seriously. Call me.

OMG- The Movie

Did anyone see this last fall? In recognizing so many of these cultures and places, I'm immediately interested- add in a discussion on how people come to know God and understand Him in their lives, I'm absolutely fascinated in hearing more. If you want to get together some Sunday soon and watch this, I would love...

When we were in Africa travelling on our little minibus to church one Sunday, we noticed that all the familiar locals were out in their best dress. For an area where most only had one shirt to their name, to see the difference on Sunday- that no matter how humble the circumstances, there was a marked difference in appearance that morning. Some were going to the large cathedral behind a gate, many were simply circled beneath a tree, holding hands and singing a prayer. But almost everyone we saw on the street was heading to worship. One of our teachers remarked, "It's interesting that, in a place where people have nothing, everyone believes in God. And in America, where we have more than what we need, so many doubt that God even exists." How much do we need faith and how much of faith comes from need? It appears that this film may make a point of that as well; did God create man or did man create God? It's an interesting discussion, at the least.

And apparently, Hugh Jackman is in it, if that helps...

Singleness: Hazardeous to Your Health

Now I've heard this argument attested to by my sworn enemy, Science, before. He is relentless in proving that being single is hazardous to one's health- particularly a woman's health. I had to re-read this article just to be certain it wasn't published 30 years ago in a weak attempt to oppress and demean women. But, no! It's from January of this year- 2010. Herein, Science "proves" that single people take more sick days and particularly single women suffer more injuries in a year than those who are married. What my loathed nemesis, Science, is trying to "prove," is that we'd all be healthier if we were married (particularly women). Clearly this study doesn't get out much. My much more logical assessment of the statistics suggest that single people as a whole are likely just using their "sick" days as "play" days.

A (single) friend commented, "I can't think of the last time I took a sick day and was actually sick." As a general, most single people are accrueing those sick days for amazing adventure vacations and random days for irresponsiblity. Those who are divorced in the article are likely dealing with children, family emergencies and tending to business/errands that require personal time. As for the widowed, there are far more women likely to outlive their husbands, so the "scientific" deduction that widowed men fare better, I would respond, "there are probably 4 women taking care of that man and each one of those women outlived their own spouse to begin with!" (Eat THAT, Science.)

As for these single, female journalists who maybe "protest too much" to this Stephan Mason, PhD, maybe they're percieved that way because, as ANY of us (male or female) can attest, somehow, our marital status (or lack thereof) seems to be a HUGE issue to non-involved parties as a topic of discussion or debate. (see: family reunions, holidays, dinner parties, church, basically anywhere people who are married and over 30 mill around.) I almost never encounter this question in the workplace, as it has no effect on my efficiency, productivity, competency or sense of humor and adeptness within social situations. Perhaps this is why so many single people are able to focus on their careers without distraction or obligation external of their own chosen social events. Perhaps that busyness is why we are not dating as much and have chosen to stay single until we meet someone as fulfilling as our work results. Surprisingly enough, Science has turned a blind eye into inquiring WHY there would be such a result.

O, Science. You lazy bastard. No wonder why you're still single.

Destiny.

You do not have to be your mother
Unless she is who you want to be.
You do not have to be your mother's mother, or your mother's mother's mother, or even your grandmother's mother on your father's side. You may inherit their chins or their hips or their eyes, but you are not destined to become the women who came before you, you are not destined to live their lives.
So if you inherit something, inherit their strength.
If you inherit something, inherit their resilience.
Because the only person you are destined to become is the person YOU DECIDE to be.
-Nike.

So I've been cleaning out those areas where you just shove papers that don't belong anywhere and I've come across some real gems. This is a Nike ad I found in high school that I liked so much, I framed it and carted it around me everywhere I went. It's only the last couple of years I put it in a "quotes I love so much I can't let them go" box. May it inspire you as it inspires me.

Why I smell like poo-

This morning I watched the sun rise over the Ghats in Varanasi. A holy man filled my hands marigolds, walked me down to the river and had me chant with him as he broke up the petals and spread them through my palms. He blessed me with a good boyfriend who would be a good husband and that I would have a good son. (I didn't even ask! Mostly I was hoping he would bless me with a job, but I guess I'll take either.) Then he sprinkled my hair with water from the river. Which is where everyone in the city bathes. And does their laundry. And dumps their sewage. And burns their dead bodies. I gave him 100 rupees anyway.

Later, on the steps of the Ghats, Krista was approached by a man offering a head massage for 50 rupees (about $1). You should know something about Krista. She is a connoisseur of massage. She's also a complete sucker for any sort of massage offered. ANYTHING. Just ask her. She'll prove it. There were other tourists being given massages on the steps and it looked ...interesting. At the least, it would be worth 50 rupees. She agreed to his price and went for moral support (to take pictures). The old man walked us over to a small dugout type of apartment room with a curtain hanging in front. He kept proffering the massage and we got increasingly disturbed by his insistance. At this point, he has a buddy, who keeps prodding me along as well, even though I've insisted I've just been sprinkled in holy water and don't want my hair touched. (True story. See above.) We see several men leave the curtained room, adjusting their loincloths as they go...shadier and stranger yet. But the wall outside is painted "woman massage for woman," so we figure, "what harm can there be?" We walk up the little steps and inside are two small floormats and a chair. That took up the entire cubbyhole room. From there it turned into my little friend saying he just wanted to hold my hand and try for just a minute (and you know how I love a good handrub...) into being face down on a sheet that had probably not been washed in years and had a slight smell of poo. It was probably the best massage I'd had in months.

You know how they say, "Always change your underwear, because you never know when you'll get hit by a bus"? At this point, a bus is the least of my worries. A tuk-tuk, a motorcycle, a bike, a cow...we've either already been hit by or had near misses of all these. I just hope when they find me, I don't smell like poo.

I Love You, Nepal.

There is so much I was prepared to tell you, but it's been so hard to find a computer the last few days in India and now that I've found one, the keyboard barely works at all! I will save it for later. The short story is:
I was blessed by a monk in Kathmandu and then invited to worship in a temple in the hills of Nagrakot and I have been made a family member and official cook of the Eco-Home Lodge (apparently, in Nepal, I can cook fairly well!) and am probably allergic to Delhi. And yes, the Taj Mahal is TOTALLY everything you ever thought it could ever be. There is no possible way to oversell.

If anyone wants to go to Nepal for a trek, I'm all in.

Children of Nepal

One of my favourite things so far has been all the Nepalanese children. There we are, marveling at these huge golden and stone stupas and giant painted Buddhas and grand palace steps with golden busts, and little children in school uniforms are running up and down them, waving notebooks and laughing. At one of the temples, I gave a few of the children some candy. We took pictures together and they would giggle at seeing themselves in the camera. They each wanted their own turn, a moment to stand in front of the camera beside an ancient stone Buddha, their school uniforms crinkling at the collar. Then the boys run off wearing their superhero backpacks, holding hands, neckties swinging. The girls have ponytails with giant red or white bows on either side of their smiling faces. One of them offers me a flower. Her name is Salina.

Dear Bachelorette Girls:

Here's $5.
Go buy yourself some dignity.
Please.
Sincerely,
-f.

On a magic carpet ride...

I have a tradition of writing down exactly what's happening around me as it occurs. While it's only a slice in time, it always rushes back the sounds and smells (usually unpleasant ones) of that moment. I would travelblog about it, so not to overload anyone with a mass message, but I forgot my password (big surprise). I hope you enjoy the next few minutes of last night with me. If you were here, you'd be laughing, too. Especially after 36 hours without sleep.

Thanks.

xoxo,

-Farrah.

November 15.2009

If I told you what was going on right now, it would sound like a bad cliche. Forget the 16 hour plane ride sandwiched between two individuals with pungent body odor and forget the child in front of us, screaming and vomiting (poor thing); it is 2:40am and we're in the airport terminals guest hall. It feels like the bus depot in Falmouth where I used to wait for my grandmother to pick me up when I would visit, except this place has an ice cream vendor and a "food village." (That's the name of our little food court.) The theme song from Aladdin plays in flutes over the speakers. The timing is unbelievable. I've heard it play 3 times since we landed 5 hours ago. Kristina is slumped over, bent at the waist stretched out impossibly over her own legs. It's 2:40, which means I got almost 3 hours of sleep. Not bad for a plastic seat with metal armrests. Can't sleep in my own bed, but give me a random depot on a smelly street and I pass out like a kid after midnight. My head keeps bumping into someone's turban because our seats are back-to-back. He doesn't seem to mind, as I keep inadvertently swatting at the thing brushing up against my hair, his clatter of conversation continuing at full pace. Even with earplugs in, I can hear him perfectly, if not for the foreign tongue.

The flute continues, "A whole new world...a dazzling place a never knew..."

We leave for Nepal in 2 hours and I wish lightning would strike twice and I could get another 2 hour nap. I'll probably just paint my toenails instead. Kristina wakes up and we give each other a bleary eyed smile.

"I'm so glad you're here," I say.

"Me, too." She smiles.

"...because I can go to the bathroom and just leave my stuff!" I finish. We start giggling.

"It's 3 o'clock." She laughs. "That means in an hour and a half we can go downstairs and be the first ones in line!" She means for our 3 hour pre-boarding requirement to Nepal.

"You know what else you should write?" She suggests, "When you asked that guy to give you a printout of your flight reservation- and then you hear the dot-matrix printer going off in the back." We're hysterical with tired laughter, at this point. I raise my hand and my eyes get wide, "uh...don't worry about the return flight. It's cool...it's cool..." Bringing out my iPod at this point would seem an affront, but, in my head, above the honking of 3 am traffic, I hear Regina Specktor play on, "And the history books forgot about us, and the Bible didn't mention us..."

My friend, Celeste (one of the Australian girls Alyson and I tromped around with in Guatemala) saw my plans on facebook. She is still in Nepal and wants me to swing by Kathmandu so she can say, "hi." Of course. Of course I will have to drop in! The Australians have the most unbelievable lives. I remember writing her months ago, voting yes on her decision to visit India on what now must be a two+ year stint of travel. I can't believe she's still here. I can't believe I have dinner plans with a friend in Kathmandu!

Unreal.

A Hotel Cafe Christmas-

There's something about the grit behind someone grabbing a mic and wailing on it as if it were a part of their soul they're rejoining that I thrill to like nothing else. The closer, the better. The louder, the happier. Hard, intense, soulful or sexy- I like it every which way around. And when it's from the heart, it feels so much better to hear.
Thanks again for the very merry Christmas, Hotel Cafe. I love you.
Sara Bareilles sings Christmas from Jersey Shore
Gosh, how I love you guys:

Dear Santa,

Well, FINE. If THAT's how you're gonna be, next year, I'm just going to be naughty.
Hope you like the cookies.
Bastard.
with love,
-f.

Jambo!

One of the most significant experiences of my life was spending several weeks in Africa. Kenya was unlike anywhere I had ever been. The poverty was striking- but I'd been to poor countries plenty of times before. What stuck me so deeply about Kenya was the realization that it is a country of orphaned children. With extreme poverty and illness and rampant AIDS, there are scores of children left parentless, often cared for by neighbours or distant relatives. The sheer number of children who are abandoned, orphaned and HIV positive or "undesirable" in some way means the streets and cities are littered with children caring for children. Babies with so much soul and depth and sadness in their eyes that their eyes belie their age. At the same time, their capacity for kindess, selflessness and joy was incredibly humbling.

For my journal entries and experiences on Kenya, click HERE.

As an update from several years ago, when I was there, I have randomly met volunteers who have completed the third story of the school we began in 2005. I have seen pictures of street children I fell in love with who are now transformed by the joy and pride of an education and food (including Little Green Dress and the mischievous and impish Michael)!

Like a stone rippling the pond, one small act can continue to affect it's surroundings long after you've left the water's edge.

My Reflection-

In light of my recent travels, I've been reflecting a lot on places I've been and people I've met and how these experiences have moved me, shaped me, humbled and inspired me to do and be more to those around me. I wish everyone had the opportunity to experience the things I've seen and done. I truly believe that if every person in the United States had the chance to spend a significant amount of time working alongside someone else in a developing country, as a people, our culture would be more giving, more understanding, more dilligant, more forgiving, more grateful and more caring.

All material advantages aside, we are all humans and we are all in need of recognition, love and acceptance. The key to this intrinsic need for validation can be found in service; in putting some part of ourselves and offering it unto the world, thereby proving our existance improves and influences someone else's life and thereby changes the world in some small way. If we could all have this kind of experience, I believe we would have greater self-respect when we find respect for others. I believe we would do more and be more for the sake of others in a way that is more fulfilling than simply for our own satisfaction. And by reaching out to others, we offer them the opportuntity to reach back to us. We form a connection, an embrace of cultures, souls, friendship and kindness that translates into a mutally beneficial relationship.

By strengthening one another's weaknesses we form a bond that strenthens us all.

I'm going to post a lot of old stuff, because, let's be honest- Blogg had fallen off the wagon a good two years ago. And it used to be really funny. So. For the three people left who occasionally check, I apologize. I am resolving to do better. And until I do, I may dip into the history books for a while. Hope you're having good thoughts and good feelings as this Christmas season approaches.

Baby Fever.

I have never been a baby person.
That doesn't mean I kick puppies or shoot small, woodland animals on the weekend. I've just never imagined myself as the cooing baby sort of gal. Give me a difficult teen in angst or an 8 year old with worldly opinions; just don't ask me how great babies smell.
Over the last couple of months, several very close friends gave birth. This time, though, they were actually close enough for me to witness it all. Not the birth- please- I'm not that close to anyone!- but the progressive growth of her belly, the firmness of her stomach, pressed tight with new life and daily changes. I've never had a friend close enough to visit weekly, to have her push my hands onto her stomach to feel the flutter inside or watch the movement of his tiny kicks change the shape of her abdomen. With as skirmish as I get around the medical community or anything that has to do with occurrences beneath the skin, I never imagined being intrigued or even interested in learning (let alone watching) such personal, intimate moments.
I was so ignorant.

I'm Delicious.

Well. Would you look at that.

I'm not entirely the failure in the kitchen I thought I was. Thanks, Amy. You are the mad scientist in the kitchen I could only dream to be. Thank you for showing me how to double a recipe and not have it explode.Caroline's Bakeshop is a place I'd like to live.

Hairflip!

I'm maybe a step away from being THIS GUY:
I seriously just am FASCINATED by people who are THIS into something. Something they didn't even DO themselves.
He's a hairstylist in Long Beach. Anyone wanna go make a new friend?

Cute. Not Dumb.

Kory asked this morning how it is that, despite all evidence to the contrary, she likes Rachel McAdams even though she has repeatedly chosen to be in movies that make women look like idiots. She asks, "Can her awesomeness in Mean Girls outweigh the terribleness of The Notebook, the Family Stone and now, The Time Traveler's Wife?" I think it's because she's cute, but not dumb. This does not help the dilemma of one after terrible-nother chick-flick being barfed out onto the public screens and theater posters everywhere.

The problem with Romantic Comedies or the Romance Film collection in general is that they make women look like idiots and they treat women who SEE them like morons, with little expectation for plot beyond seeing good hair and home decor. It's our own fault that Hollywood continues to churn out such trash, really, since most of the people paying to see these movies are women who are stupid for not having higher expectations. Forget boycotting the film industry with it's salacious sensuality and profane humor- Please: refuse to see yet ANOTHER movie that makes women look incapable of reasonable action. Put your foot down and put it down NOW.

Sorry, Rachel McAdams. You're cute and not-dumb, but a movie about a woman who sits around waiting for the man of her dreams to appear here and there throughout her life only to abandon her during her REAL life? And she STAYS with him?!? That's not romantic. That's just real life.

Holding On.

Sometimes you see friends who would be SO PERFECT together and you wonder, "HOW is this not happening?!?"

After 3 months of casual, sporadic dating, she has given up that he will ever really make anything happen, and doesn't really mind. She likes spending time with him when he does ask her out, has a great time every time, and really enjoys his company and isn't about to stop dating him if he asks again. But she's not about to get hung up on someone who is so clearly not hung up enough to ask her out more frequently.

He's got a myriad of excuses for his time pulling him in multiple directions, but ultimately, we all know that if he wanted to make it happen, the man would MAKE IT HAPPEN.

When I suggested she give him a hand in the process, since he's really shy and maybe needs a little encouragement that he's moving in the right direction, she turned to me and said, "I gave up on that a month ago. But that's sweet of you to keep hope."

Normally, I agree with her. If he's not making it happen, let it go, because he's not GONNA. And I would have never considered myself a romantic. And surely, my sympathy for manboys can't be emerging. But I'm wondering if maybe, if he only knew that she would be receptive to his advances, if maybe he would get a move on?

Or am I just dreaming up hope for a relationship I'm not even party to?

One Fine Day.

I can't wait for the day when we're married with kids and the biggest problem of the day is, "O no, Joey put the turtle in the toilet again!" and not, "My boyfriend is addicted to porn and is guilt tripping me because I won't have sex with him."
sigh.
I know problems don't go away. They just become different ones. As our lives evolve and grow, so do the challenges that emerge to form us into stronger, better, more interesting human beings. I can't wait until we all move forward and get to have new ones. Because these ones suck ass.