Jack.

I’m not one for superstitions. I step on cracks in the sidewalk. I pick up all pennies, regardless of which way they face on the ground. And I don’t blow a kiss to the ceiling of my car whenever I speed through a yellow light. I do, however, hate black cats – but for no other reason than the fact that they are cats and I’m not particularly fond of cats. And I don’t walk under ladders, because well, that’s just not safe.

November 11, 2011 was of little significance to me. 11:11 am came and passed as I struggled through a sun salutation in my yoga practice. 11:11 pm came and passed as I cried through The Notebook. A day like any other. I normally don’t wish at 11:11 on any occasion, and 11.11.11 was no different. Regardless of all of the ones.

November 12^th was different. November 12^th I was shocked with unfortunate news. I learned a longtime friend and classmate had passed away. While Jack and I weren’t extremely close, I certainly considered him a dear friend. A friend I shared great memories with. One who I was always excited to see. Who always greeted me with the sweetest smile and the warmest hugs. I’m unsure of the circumstances surrounding his untimely death, but I am sure of the sadness I felt when I heard what happened. Like the wind had been knocked right out of me. Like I couldn’t take in any air. Like I couldn’t breathe at all. Honestly startled by my own emotions, I’ve changed my mind and I want to go back. I know I can’t change things. I can’t rewind time and I can’t go back. But I’ve changed my mind. I didn’t make a wish on 11.11.11, and I’d like to.

thinking of you, jack. and wishing you're resting in peace.

I wish for my friends. For my family. For my friends who’ve become my family. I wish for their health. For their happiness. For their peace. I wish they know their worth. Know how important they are to me, how much they’ve impacted my life, and who I am. I wish they could know how much I love them, how much they mean to me. That’s my wish for Jack, too. That he knows how much we miss him. How much we love him. I wish for his peace, especially. And for his family’s. And I guess I wish for me too. I wish for the ability to show people how special they are. How special they are to me.  It’s a lot of wishes, I know. And I’d hate to be greedy - wait, who am I kidding? I don’t mind being greedy one bit. So yeah. I’m wishing for all of those things. And maybe this dress too. 

BYOP

Last Tuesday was major. I was hit by a bus. Well, not me – but my car. And I was in the car. So yeah, me. I was hit by a bus. I checked out the Tim Burton Exhibit at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. And I hosted a pumpkin carving.

I hadn’t carved a pumpkin in as long as I can remember, and after picking up the most perfect, roundest, orangest pumpkin in sight I was super stoked. The party was BYOP, the P being for pumpkin obviously.  We loaded up on Dearly Beloved Forever Red Wine, found at Trader Joe’s prior to my incident with public transit, and it couldn’t have been more perfect for the occasion. The lovely Andi was sweet enough to bring spooky snacks resembling mummies. And after finding ourselves in the candy aisle at Target – a very dangerous place to be – Austin and I had, and still have, enough Halloween candy to feed every trick or treater in Los Angeles. But more importantly, our house looked fantastic.

Jars of candy corn sat in our front kitchen window. The window looked more like a crime scene complete with bloody hand prints and creepy crawly spiders. Those creepy crawly spiders also graced our dining room, and the spider webs that took over our doorway. But perhaps my favorite festive décor is found on our dining room table. Inspired after hours on pinterest, Austin and I headed to Home Depot. The gnarliest, knottiest fence post became our table runner, the perfect centerpiece for melted candles of all sizes, darling miniature pumpkins, and spiders, of course. The coolest thing about this table runner was how it transformed over the course of the spooky holiday – candles melting at different speeds, wax dripping and running every which way, candles burning out entirely making room for new. I love it even more now than I did days ago. So much so that it still graces our table. That, and I just don’t really feel like cleaning up quite yet. And besides, what screams holiday more than candy corn and plastic spiders? Nothing.

Car Accident

I wasn’t kidding earlier. I was involved in a car accident – with a metro bus. And by involved in, I mean the victim of. Obviously. I used to think I needed a blog to document all of the weird things that happen to me. For a while there, it was constant. Then I started a blog, and it seemed as though the weirdness subsided. In reality, I think I just grew accustomed to it. But you guys, this one is for real. This is how it went down.

Don’t ask me what I’m doing, because I won’t be able to give you a very direct answer, but I’m always very busy. This Tuesday was no exception. Leaving an early morning yoga practice, I had a bazillion and one things to do. I had planned to see the Tim Burton exhibit at the LACMA and I was hosting a pumpkin carving that evening. With a million things left to prepare, I headed to Trader Joe’s. Prior to Tuesday, I used to think frequent trips to Trader Joe’s was certainly reason enough for a prescription of Xanax, but now I say just avoid these packed aisles and parking lots at all costs. 

Pulling out of the parking lot, I was stopped at a red light waiting to turn left. Minding my own business. When then, out of nowhere, I saw it. The giant blue metro bus, mistakenly thought he could squeeze by me and make a right turn. In slow motion, laying on my horn, I watched in horror as the bus scrapped along side me, slicing off my side mirror and clipping the entire front right bumper of my poor car.

In shock, I pulled to the side, behind the bus and exchanged information with the driver. He thanked me for being so nice and understanding. I asked how I was supposed to act in such a situation and he said sometimes when this happens, people are so mean he has to wait on the bus. Sometimes when this happens. As in it happens. Ridiculous. Anyway. The worst part was waiting. Get this, if I left before his supervisor came to evaluate the damage, it would have been considered a hit and run on my part. With my patience wearing thin, I called 911 to report the accident. They explained the procedure and I told me I would in fact have to wait for the supervisor. I explained I had prior engagements at the LACMA and a party to prepare for but they were less understanding. Then I started to cry. Shortly after, two sheriffs arrived and a report was filed. With no supervisor in sight, an hour and a half later, they took my statement and allowed me to go.

But don’t worry, you guys. I’m fine. I made it to Tim Burton, later than expected, but I made it. And I drowned my sorrows in cheap wine while my friends and I carved pumpkins later that night. My car is in the shop, but he’ll be okay too. And in the mean time, I’m driving a sweet gold Dodge Avenger. I know. I wish I was kidding, too. That's it on the left. Okay, so maybe mine doesn't have those rims. And it's gold. Maybe I’ll pose on the hood in a matching gold bikini and submit the photo to some kind of muscle car calendar. Or maybe not. But boy do I miss my little jetta.