Soakin' Up San Francisco

Last weekend amidst the uncharacteristic LA rain, I drove northwest on the CA-101 like I do daily. I was a little sleepy, enjoying a food-induced coma from an amazing brunch on Ventura Boulevard with my best of friends. I felt slightly hungover - not the kind of hungover that comes from too many fruity drinks, but the type that follows a well-hydrated yet unjustifiably late night of non-stop, hard-core dancing. That afternoon, I peered through my windshield at the grey skies above me as I approached the airspace of a particularly poised-to-burst raincloud hovering over the El Camino Real. I both dreaded the continuation of this gloomy, atypical Southern California weather and also pondered gratitude toward Mother Earth and the heavens for finally watering the parched Southern California landscape around me. Rain always brings me a tinge of familiar refreshment. Every time that a day-long sprinkle or weekend-long downpour rinses the gray buildings and beige chaparral surrounding

Two weeks ago, I ran for both the longest uninterrupted period of time and distance that I ever have in my adult life. Back in the day, I dashed through weekend-long soccer tournaments and hustled for three-hour long tennis matches, but never have I set out upon a long stretch of tree-lined asphalt road and run, without water or rest, for six-some miles. On Sunday, February 23rd I awoke promptly after five am with a nervous alertness surging through my veins. It was the kind that prevents you from sleeping through your early alarm - with the help of anxious dreams - at the expense of a good night's sleep. I had hot oatmeal drenched in melted brown sugar, and set out on my drive into Los Angeles where I'd convene and then carpool with my partner in crime, Stepha. I drank water, listened to my Firecracker 10K iTunes playlist via Bluetooth, and prepared myself for the feat I was about to attempt. I was confident... anxious, but confident. The hustle and bustle at the St

My day off today called for a few treats, including but not limited to some pampering and an internet-free, iPhone-less date at one of my favorite caffeine escapes. I decided to treat myself to an iced mocha from Alfred , despite having no date this morning and very few friends who can typically day-date with me anyway. Rather than miss or dwell upon this memory-filled neighborhood of West Hollywood, I figured that I should do exactly the opposite of what my mind was telling me to ( drive far, far away , that is). No, instead I was determined to enter it whole-heartedly, embrace the stomping grounds and comfort spots which used to (and still do) bring me so much joy, and start to re-create some new memories within them: alone, and with new friends once in a while. Take this cafe, for example: In my entire year of living in my second WeHo apartment, I’d frequent this quaint spot with my nearby neighbor Ailie and sometimes my second roommate, Nili. I fondly remember their kind supply o