Soakin' Up San Francisco

Four weeks, three Welsh kitty cats, two LA trips and one half-marathon later: the blustery, magical and nonsensically summer-like month of November has somehow come to an end. Like I typically do at the start to any month, I have sat down -- in preparation for a journey of health, intent and reflection -- to ready myself for the remaining thirty-one days of 2014.  Our proudest accomplishment of 2014 (or maybe ever) My yoga membership resumes this Wednesday; I have a date [with a Harvard grad, nbd ] on Tuesday... and I finally run again -- beginning tomorrow! Combined with a renewed commitment to written reflection, I am off to a great start. I will not allow any negative or unforgiving influences, nor my temporary distance from my cat Simba, nor  my busy Q4 work schedule combined with any other challenge to get me down. Instead, I will embrace 1) the freedom I can enjoy this month, 2) the travel that I am blessed with this month, and 3) the holidays and good che...

Having endured - no, adored - my first 90 days as an official resident of my new city, I can happily reflect upon the things I’ve observed, learned and realized throughout my time here. On both the best of days and the most homesick of days, I’ve begun to see the best of my routines revealed to me... little by little.  In the years since graduating from college and while living between West Hollywood, Newbury Park and now the Bay area, I’ve slowly toyed with the question of what makes for the perfect day, the ideal weekend - the best kind of week? These ideas have evolved and somersaulted through the different periods of the past three years - in times of work and during weekends of play, in both my former retail realm and my now more regular, corporate lifestyle.  A dear friend and new colleague at LinkedIn, Stephanie, recently posed her wisdom regarding the need for both spontaneity and routine in her “perfect day” - a juxtaposition to which I whole-heartedly rela...

I can't think of a better way to begin a new month. Yep: on a fresh, blank canvas — after a day filled with family, one of my best friends, a long adventure-of-a-run... and a brand new movie that I cannot get out of my head. It has been some time since a film haunted me by its consistent and dense portrayal of truth and real human emotion. That’s the only way I can think to describe Begin Again , and the likes of Keira Knightly and Adam Levine and even Mark Ruffalo and their tangled, romantically musical relationships. Like I would imagine the producer’s first movie to be, Once , this was a story of the way that music tells human narratives. Music and the discovery, the fusion of ideas and moods and melodies, that also fuse people and lives - in the case of Mark and his wife, Mark and his daughter, Mark and Keira’s character, Keira and Adam in the beginning, Keira and Adam at the final farewell between them. Perhaps I’m relating to the story - in hindsight, after seeing it in th...

Note from the blogger:  In honor of my recent celebration of baby sister's 21st birthday in Vegas, I'll share below my first ever guest-post on one of my favorite blogs: that of my best and oldest friend, Chels.  Here's to the success of her recently revamped:   Single in Sin City.   Thanks for being my inspiration, bestie! Me and Chels this past weekend - pretending we were 21 again As an LA native and new SF local, being a guest of Sin City makes me the most run-of-the-mill type of girl walking the Strip these days. I'm in town for a night or two for several purposes. Nope, not work or relaxation... I'm there to party, to have girl time, to meet guys, and to relax, sure (while looking cute and taking seemingly carefree Instagram selfies). I'm there to be the girl that I am not on your average weekday. Mind you, I am entirely stereotyping AND generalizing at the same time. This is the Vegas I've experienced as a California girl... it's the ...

This past summer, I'd often sit back on my morning train ride into the city and mindlessly swipe through Craigslist's options for studio apartments on my iPhone. As I scrolled and skimmed one early AM, swiping this way and that for whatever details I could find - whilst praying for something decent-looking within my target price range - a realization and comparison both dawned on me: The apartment hunt - in today's world of smart phones, infinite apps AND an insane housing market - felt a little like the online/social dating scene these days.  Imagine the same scene I described above -- but replace the Craigslist app with Tinder in your imagination (I mean, it's not like that's ever been an actual reality. Nope, never). I'd swipe and scroll, digging for the tiniest tell-tale sign that the guy (or apartment) in question was attractive, seemingly "structurally" sound, and in a convenient location to both work and fun.  In moments of impatience,...

There are a few token birthdays most of us will always remember. They include but are not limited to: the super Sweet Sixteen, the once-in-a-lifetime 21st (if you reside in the U.S., anyway) and the leap "over the hill" when one hits the big 4-0. Ones very first birthday is always ridiculously over-hyped by oogling relatives and deserving mothers.  A famous animated Disney nutcase even showed us that there is little harm in celebrating ones "un-birthday" if he or she feels so inclined.  But what about the HALF-birthday? Why is it so often overlooked? Now I realize that I may not be representative of the typical age-turner. My friends know me as someone who not only loves to celebrate my birthday; I have a tendency to drag it out into a multi-weekend series of celebrations and getaways, not to mention the mandatory family birthday dinner plus mid-week happy hours for every single one of my circles of friends.  No, it's not because I love another excuse...

The truth is, I have undeniably completed Week Four of this new chapter of my life - as today marks one month since my symbolic drive up CA-101 N. Week One, I reported upon above: it was filled with new experiences, budding relationships, and chance encounters with strangers who each welcomed me to this exciting and infectious city. Week Two was a whirlwind: I got to work more closely with my new boss, and then we took off for a rustic bonding experience in magnificent Monterrey that was jam-packed with bonfires and beach Olympics. I allowed myself to immerse fully and ignore the potential distractions of my lost iPhone (my only grudge thus far against SF and its infamous playground for musical debauchery: Bootie SF) or my impending vacation, which would kick off the following evening. I took it all bird by bird and, Wednesday evening, drove to San Jose and Jenna, hitched a car to the airport, jetted off to LA (whilst writing the blog post below this one) and then reunited and chugged...