The secretive Walk of Shame.

The secretive Walk of Shame. 

Was awoken by a mixture of abruption and ease as the haze of an early morning rubbed away, and I realized that I was waking up on a barely-can-fit-us couch with Mr.Parker. The abruption from the fact that he had slept in almost too late and had to scramble off to work -- the ease from the realization that the only place I had to rush over to was his bed. As he hurried into the shower, and I watched him get dressed, I thought about how he has the body shape of a marble statue. Yeah, he's hot (smirky face).

After my morning nap, I woke up at the prime time of 12:30 in the afternoon. Yup. People are living their lives and going to work on this Thursday morning, and I just woke up... Out of self-embarassment, I quickly slipped into yesterday's garments, and took a short moment to pat down my mangled curly hair. I hurried past his roommates who I had heard working from home for the last 3 hours, and left with a quick goodbye.

An expeditious check-in with my boss and a leftover chicken pesto sandwich in my stomach later, I decided to head over to Laurel Heights for work. Being quite the meticulous planner and fashion lover that I am, I almost never forget to pack an extra outfit. But as I walked along the street in my pants of yesterday, I realized in a city where no one knows you, you're walkin' in the pants of todayyy gurllll! 

I walked the secretive Walk of Shame into a nearby Starbucks to input my work of the day and catch up on some online things, and whadya know I ended up on the blackhole of the internet: Facebook. 
My thoughts on Facebook range vastly depending on my mood. I think that's how they get you; Mark Zuckerberg knows that you actually hate seeing your junior high nemesis and that guy you dated's mom's cooking posts, but there's always a lovely video on sloths or some valuable information on the upcoming Netflix show circling through that just keeps you coming for more.

Aside from the realization that some people are truly ignorant and confident enough to post the wildest political statements to the public, I think the thing that truly drives me nuts about Facebook is the sudden explosion of engagements and weddings and postamilliongazillion we're so in love posts. It's like the moment people fall in love and put a ring on it, it's the only thing they can talk about. This scares me more as a woman because there is such an assumption put on marriage (that you will or want to be married), or a heavy value only given if you do. I read not too long ago, a girl my age (young) wrote a letter to her future husband saying (and I quote):"I was not and will not be whole until I meet you. I have not lived until I have met you, and all of my years have prepared me to be truly myself for you." That was the opening sentence.

You best believe I proceeded with my online Stalk of Shame. Shame in you, young Facebook friend!! You are whole, and will be yourself if you never find him.. or her if you end up a lesbian.

Maybe I'm just cranky.
Maybe I'm just jealous of these couples' blind love and innocent belief in being able to commit to forever or ability to see marriage as a simple thing. Maybe it is.

In my previous relationship, it was very difficult to imagine marriage in a realistic sense. It doesn't make sense and it's hard and I wasn't feeling it. Because of our precedent friendship, my relationship with Mr.Parker has a sense of simplicity and ease. And although the majority of my misgivings have not all diminished in the totality of a month and a half long relationship, Mr.Parker joked this morning while sliding into a pair of joggers, "What if we just eloped and didn't tell anyone?" Captivated by his sense of adventure, I replied, "Let's do it," facetiously of course. I sent him off hearing his words ringing in my ears like the fool in love that I am.

Regardless, I do know that there is a healthy and wholesome way to be married and remain an individual. To my Future Husband: good luck. (lol)

First Post.

With the recent discovery of Lisa Czarina (or Ella Coquine) and falling deeply in love with her simple and raw daily blog posts about grieving a broken engagement while living in Paris, I have been feeling the want to document my daily life while living in San Francisco. I've told myself that I will be content with these posts if they are half as witty as hers, and just as honest.

Being that my favorite television character is Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City, I feel that I owe it to both of them and myself to feed into this weird release I get from documenting my thoughts. I also like to think that my life isn't that boring.

So here goes nothing:

This morning began with me being able to ease into the Wednesday ahead of me. With a lot of schedule flexibility offered by my current internship, I slipped over to the kitchen in heart patterned cotton panties and a favorite white t-shirt of mine from my trip to Paris last summer. I like the tag on the back inside seam that looks like a French flag; it is a secret delight I have in wearing it. I then proceeded to make a delicious swiss and tomato omelette with a bagel on the side. Sprinkling in salt, pepper, and a touch of milk, it makes for the perfect morning pick-me-up. And of course, no coffee. Don't need none of that poop water in my life. But rather was wishing I had taken the time to buy extra orange juice last time I was at the market.

Today is my Mom's birthday, and she is my favorite person in the world. She gave me my curly hair and my ability to shake off shitty things. And love unconditionally. And laugh at myself. I was very happy to give her a phone call of praises.

I left the house today wearing a striped tee with ruffled shoulders and dark navy blue pants with a skinny black belt. And my sparkly sandals. Aim of the day: simple Parisienne with a touch of bling. Natural hair, and no makeup. Ready for the day.

Embarrassing moment of the day: went to the nearest Wells Fargo to set up a savings account and begin my slow trudge towards adulthood, and in the midst of my stiff jokes with the bank teller realized that I had .50 cents in my bank account. Like I said, slow trudge.

While out and about for work today, had lunch at a lovely French cafe in Redwood City. Cafe de La Tartine. My mocha was a bit too chocolatey, but my 12 dollar sandwich rocked my world. It was prosciutto and swiss on a baguette. Mmm Mmm Mmmmmmm. Can you tell I have a thing for French things? I know I'm basic.

Throughout today, I was looking forward to the fact that I was spending the end of my day in the city with my current boyfriend, Mr. Parker. He is tall and handsome and intelligent and kind. I am, however, feeling slightly distressed about the fact that we may be entering a period of long distance in the Fall due to his choice of attending a very well-deserved and notable coding program here in San Francisco as I return to school in Los Angeles. But that's another post for another many days I'm sure lol (nervous silent laugh).

On the way to the city, I was looking forward to allowing myself to smoke one cigarette while stuck in anticipated traffic. To my dismay, my lighter was out of lighter fluid (ugh). But probably just unknowingly saved myself from lung cancer. So there's that !
I'll smoke two tonight to reward myself for my patience. ;-)

We spent our night with a picnic on Bernal Heights, and although it was classic San Francisco foggy and I had to clumsily climb up the dirt hillside in friction-less sandals, Mr. Parker held my hand and brought a bottle of wine, and some spliffs so it was perfection. At one point, we were both laughing so hard that we couldn't stop laughing to ask the other what they were laughing at. Mr. Parker fits me well: "like a puzzle piece" we always say. My inner feminist cringes because I'm not missing a puzzle piece, but my bigger inner romantic loves the cheesy phrases we exchange.

All in all, it was a great Wednesday. Thanks for reading.

Cafe de La Tartine
830 Middlefield Rd
Redwood City, CA 94063