Just E This Time...

Normally this would be an EVBNO style post I guess...but it's just me! Yesterday I was determined to get out of the apt. My mom left me a text suggesting I take my bike and go riding at Venice Beach...and that sounded fine...until I remembered beach=humidity. Black girls have this thing where unless they have access to a flat iron, an electrical outlet, and a mirror, they will not let anything happen to their hair. That means no pool, no rain, and especially no humidity. It's like the silent killer, ya'll. So I voted nay on la playa and decided to stay inland instead.

I went to Silverlake (which is actually a really great place if you get past the general superiority vibe and don't mind if people ask you how long it takes for your bangs to grow out or talk to you about music and politics like they're the same thing) and got lunch at Psychobabble Cafe. I was so tempted to take a photo of my meal because it looked and tasted fantastic but I was sort of being stared down, so I didn't. But it was amazing. I had a cheese panini, Caesar salad and mint tea. Gawd, sometimes eating healthy IS good. Who knew, right??

After that, I parked and walked to Berda Paradise. On the way, I got weird, incredulous looks from everyone on the street. I think Rumer Willis is right. I think I dress more like a New Yorker than an Angeleno. Hmmm...anyway I was wearing my Missbehave X Nails Did tee, a pair of black tights, and white flats. Didn't go over so well I suppose.

Anyway, if you don't know what Berda Paradise is, it's this uber amazing thrift store that works in conjunction with the Sunset Free Clinic so the proceeds from what you buy there go to the Clinic! So you can have fun shopping and give someone a free test for Chlamydia! Sharing is caring...So like I was saying, Berda Paradise has just about everything from books, clothing, hats, bags, shoes, records, vintage sunglasses...glass bottles, if that's your thing...I found a skirt and a sweater that were adorable, and then, oh, the records! I got two Petula Clark vinyls, an old Billie Holiday pressing, and a Barbra Streisand record.

Did I ever tell you guys how awesome I think Babs is? I'll do it sometime.

So after that I drove to Sunset Blvd, went to Amoeba Records and found three seasons of Absolutely Fabulous on VHS for only 1.99 each! I pretty much grabbed them all. Oh and then I had to REbuy that fucking badass Justice record since mine was stolen...all in all I spent way too much money.

Annnnd to wrap this ish up, I had to show my ID just to buy a lighter at the 7-11, I got honked at by an ambulance, the dude at the public parking lot ripped me off, I read on the ticker over the Wachovia bank building that the Hadron Collider will be out of service for at least two months, and MIA's on the side of a building.

I can't wait to do it again! Lookout weekend! Sry for the shittastic pictures. It started getting dark by the time I began shooting snaps. Ah well!

Deuces,
Erika

Are You There Internet? It's Me Erika.

This picture was taken at my mom's house last summer. I did not want said picture to be taken. Note the extreme casual wear I'm rocking. That t-shirt belongs to my mother. It somehow has holes in it in very odd places. That was back when my bangs grew free and happily and people mistook me for a 15/16 yr old alot. But I do look skinny in this picture. Ohai, and this is my bf sitting next to me. So I guess you finally get to see him. His name is Sam. He's 23 and he always buys the beer. He used to have very cute short, curly hair, but he shaved it off and now he thinks he looks like a chick magnet. Dudes are crazy sometimes.

I am not one for admitting defeat or incorrectness. In fact I rarely ever do it. If someone is right and I'm wrong and it's obvious, then I have no choice but to say, "Oh I'm wrong," or "Oh I fucked up. Sorry." But those times are few and far between.

Back in Atlanta, I was so unhappy. My close friends didn't get me, the dudes I did like to hang out with always had previous engagements, my bf spent a lot of time working, my mom couldn't identify, and even my dog was slowly starting to hate me. Well, maybe. She started ignoring me alot more and in turn I stopped feeding her. Just kidding.

LA was my ticket to happiness. The cure for my sorrows, my hopelessness, this feeling of being completely lost in my own life. I kept telling people I was leaving the South and never EVER coming back. Most people just went "ohhhh" and remarked how lucky I was. I got cold feet a few times but the reassurance of the people around me that I would be fine kept me going.

I spent my first evening in LA by myself, eating El Pollo Loco, listening to my Niko LP, and sitting on my bed with the window open, a warm breeze carrying in the sounds of far off conversations and outside noise. I texted my bf: You know what Sam? Sitting here on my bed, looking out at the blue sky ad palms and golden buildings and listening to Niko and eating chicken out of a Styrofoam container...I'm truly happy.

Fast forward a month and a half later. I'm on speaking terms with only two of my roommates. I have three friends, V notwithstanding, and they're kind of cool. All I do is go to school and then come home, day in and day out. I filter through so many emotions daily. I haven't been laid for almost three months now. I pretty much take care of this apartment on my own. I'm hopeful, but at the same time discouraged.

But every time I go to Hollywood I'm reminded of why I love LA so much. The constant excitement, perpetual ADD stimulation, the opportunities and the people and, most recently, the strip clubs, make it an amazing place to live. It's truly like no other place on earth. Plus I'm an LA kid at heart...my hometown is Inglewood (holla!) and a ton of the pictures of me smiling and happy as a kid were taken when we lived in Los Angeles.

What gets me is that I don't live in LA (the city). Of course I live in LA (the county), but I really live in the Valley. It's ironic actually, because when my mom and I came here awhile back, I thought to myself, "This must be where people come to die." But then I think to myself, well, when I graduate I can live in LA. I can live in the heart of W Hollywood, which has been a longtime dream of mine. I can get my magazine ambitions underway. I can head out to strip clubs every night.

So I thought to myself, why should I stay in the Valley if it makes me unhappy to do so? Longer story shorter, I've made the decision to go back to Atlanta, transfer to the state college, and finish my education there. Then, when I'm ready, I can come back to LA. I love it too much to stay away forever.

I guess a part of me wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. That I could handle being 2000 miles away from my fam and friends and still make it. I think that every time I don't call someone I know and I rely on myself to just "figure it out," as my bf likes to say, I am proving myself. Every time I use my map of LA instead of calling my mom, I'm doing it. Every time I meet someone new because I made the first move to talk to them I'm doing it. And I feel good enough with this month and a half, so I know I'll be even prouder of myself nine months from now when the school year's over. And that quote JEWELS said only made things better.

But a part of me feels like this is admitting defeat, saying that I can't stick with anything without eventually just returning to what's easy and comfortable. Because I'd almost rather be minorly unhappy and take the easy way out than be majorly unhappy but know I'm doing what's right.

In any case, this time next year I'll be blogging to you good people from the dirty, smelly city of Atlanta. It's not a place I'm fond of, but the gang from Tilly and the Wall really love it, so I guess there's my consolation prize.

Deuces,
Erika

Friends...But Not The TV Show, The People

I really need friends. I'm not gonna front like before I moved to ATL, I had a shit ton of friends, 'cos I didn't. They were all flighty sort of friends that you hung out with and whose houses you slept over and walked to and from school with, but never really connected with. Those girls would ditch you for the popular kids and pretend not to know you if everyone else was doing it.

In fact, when I came to Atlanta, I made more friends than I'd ever had. But they all, in turn, spurned me and left me sad and lost. Somehow I kept fucking up my friendships. It had to have been me, right? That's how I used to see it. They were so much more perfect than me. I had to be the one who was saying and doing the wrong things.

Some girls stayed in my life longer than others, but eventually, they all got filtered out of it, either by some out of hand fight, moving, or just drifting apart.

High school was kind of different. Granted, I faced a lot of bitches, but I thought I had three real friends. Of course, like all girls, they were a lot to handle. One was a chronic liar, one had an eating disorder, and one lived in a perpetual state of childishness. I tried again. I got a spoiled brat, a chick that didn't even have a driver's license in senior year, and a dude that thought women couldn't be rappers. (But he was also the perfect candidate to be a domestic abuser, so we won't go into that.)

In other words, I've never been able to find good, strong friends. I've never had that "tell me anything, I won't judge you, I'll just listen and give you good advice" kind of relationship. I used to spend hours on end telling my mom my problems, but there's only so far you can go with parents, y'know?

I definitely don't have issues making friends. I make friends on the internet, at shows, at the grocery store, blah fucking blah. I have trouble making friends I can hang with outside said internet, shows, grocery stores. People who I can just call and say, "Hey, I'm getting pizza, you down?" and they will actually respond, "Fuck yeah! Meet you there in fifteen." I've never had that.

Well the BBQ yesterday just reminded me of how few real friends I have, since they were all my bf's friends, and not mine. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind doing things by myself. But there's a limit. I was trying to tell this to my bf last night, but he just said, "Dude, if I sat around all day like you, I would just drive anywhere and just walk around."

Sometimes it's not that easy. Sometimes it kinda hurts to walk somewhere by yourself and see people walking and laughing and having fun and NOT BEING HIT ON BY CREEPY DUDES THAT LIKE TO HIT ON CHICKS THAT ARE ALONE, cause that ish is starting to make me crazy. Still, sometimes you want someone to spill your soul to, besides your dog.

Deuces,
Erika