Empathy

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Recently, I was told by a close friend that she wished I could be more empathetic toward her.

I wasn’t sure exactly what to do with that so I gave it thought. My friend deserved that from me. First, I looked up the word to make sure I truly understood what it meant.

Empathy – n. the ability to understand, recognize and/or share the feelings of another.

I paused. Hmmm… this didn’t exactly describe herself at all, though she may believe otherwise, but that’s neither here nor there. She should be as empathetic as she wants to be.

This did however answer my doubts. I believe I very often understand and recognize feelings in others and will act accordingly. The thing is, I act accordingly how I choose to, not by what is expected of me. In the past, this same friend has chastised me for not letting her dwell and feel sorry for herself. I don’t do that. For myself or anyone else. I also believe in letting others deal with the consequences of their mistakes while being a friend with positive energy and words of inspiration I can share.

These words and positive energy however seem to have meant nothing to her. She told me to leave her alone and wished I could be more empathetic.

And that was where I found the problem lied. It wasn’t that I didn’t have empathy, it was that I didn’t have the empathy she wanted. I’m still not sure why she felt the need to tell me what I was lacking but it was made clear – I wasn’t doing something that she wanted or expected me too.

Who wants to play that game? Not me.

Empathy.

I think it is important to understand and recognize the feelings of others.

As it is equally important to allow people to empathize with you in their own way.

Otherwise, you’re just asking for pity and charity.

There’s a big difference between recognizing someone’s feelings and feeling sorry for them…

A Walk

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I had a few errands to do today and fortunately had some extra time so I decided to take a walk to get them done. I also wanted to write a blog today but hadn’t committed to one idea for it yet. Then, as I was putting on a shirt before hitting the pavement, I was struck with the thought of combining these two things, so…

Here is my walk with pictures (and a little writing to round the story out.) I recommend doing this yourself too. You’ll be surprised at how much more you notice when you have a camera in your hand on your walk.

A Walk

Off I go!
start

Lovely… but killer on my sinuses.
photo 5

With a bright blue sky though, I’ll suffer.
photo 4

These signs are EVERYWHERE. (I don’t have a pet…)
photo 3

Is this a large bonsai tree???
photo 2

First stop, where my sour-puss faced helper informed me that they can open up my media mail package to make sure I’m not lying about what’s inside. I replied, “Wow, that’s a lot of time. Fine, as long as you put it all back together.”
photo 1

It’s like a drunk not able to pass a bar. photo 5

Of course I bought something.
photo 1

Third stop (because it’s in walking distance.) I prefer Von’s, Sprouts and Fresh & Easy but they aren’t…
photo 4

photo 3
My theory: they’re trying to piss off…

the McMansions being built directly across the street.
photo 2

Eleven things I would say now to my sixteen year-old self

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Wow. I got a pit in my stomach as I wrote that.

High school wasn’t my favorite time in life. It was one of my least favorite actually. Maybe that’s why I thought it would be a cool idea to think of eleven (my favorite number) things I would say to my insecure, lost in dreams, sixteen year old self now, if I were somehow able too, (I guess I’m still a little lost in dreams…)

TO: 16-YEAR-OLD CHRISTINA
FROM: 36-YEAR-OLD CHRISTINA

Advice it is wise to heed. Who better to give it to you?

1. Go to the dentist every six months. Just do it. Trust me. And floss.

2. High school is but a tiny blip on your journey. It may not feel as such but know that IT IS.

3. With freedom comes responsibility. Use it wisely. DO NOT get a credit card until you’re at least thirty.

4. Pinch yourself HARD every time you let a guy treat you anything but wonderful. Your arms will get red so hopefully you will learn not to tolerate this sooner than later.

5. And vice versus. Treat guys and others the same way you want to be treated. Period.

6. Don’t lie.

7. Enjoy the ability to BURN FAT like it’s nobody’s business. This will not always be the case.

8. Write in big letters “THE WORLD DOES NOT REVOLVE AROUND ME” on something you will look at everyday.

9. Be kind. You may feel like the world is cruel and against you but you seriously have no idea how good you have it.

10. Don’t give up so easily.

11. Know you’ll always get the parking ticket so DON’T CHANCE IT EVER.

To my co-pilot

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I am thirty-six years old. I’ve never been married, have zero kids and my career as a filmmaker has always been the primary focus of my entire life. I know, I should be farther along then, right? Nope, because I had to pick one of the most difficult careers to make a living at. But, whatever, I love the work and I’m digressing. With the exception of my family, my films have been my entire universe. That is, until I met someone.

My boyfriend.

He’s literally rocked my world and made me want to adjust my focus in a way no one ever has. Yes, he’s flawed just like everyone else (no one should enjoy leisure time that much!) but to paraphrase and butcher an amazing quote from the amazing film GOOD WILL HUNTING, ‘He isn’t perfect, I’m not perfect, no one is perfect, but what’s important is that we’re perfect for each other.’

I think we are. His birthday is tomorrow and I know he follows my blog so he’ll get this surprise in his email inbox as soon as I post it. Below is a poem I wrote, the first in probably twenty years, for my guy on his birthday:

Co-Pilot

First there was me daydreaming about the one,
then there was a funny one always with a beer in hand,
then a sweet best friend one,
one who opened my eyes and some who helped reintroduce LA,
handsome ones, crazy ones, hysterical ones, stupid ones,
angry ones, laid back ones, and one who actually tagged my dumpster,
one who I believe is in jail or was in the past,
ones who are forgettable,
one who should be in jail but probably never will be, sigh,
but all were fleeting, poof! where’d they go? who cares!
I kept searching…

And then there was THE ONE.

The one who I’ve said good night to practically every night
since we met,
the one who shares the love for a ten o-clock dinner time and a
nine-hour sleep schedule,
the one who tolerates my love for no outside clothes under
the covers,
the one whose love for closed blinds at noon is something I
tolerate,
the one whose been waiting for me to ask him my illogical question,
“baby, do you have a hair tie?”
the one who put hair ties in several of his pants pockets so he could
pull one out and say, “Here you go, sweetheart”
the one who continually surprises me,
the one who swells my heart, a heart I didn’t know could grow this big,
the one who steals my breath at random moments,
the one who has to force himself not to kiss me so as not to wake me up,
the one who thinks about life as a gift,
the one who is my gift,
the one who I’ve been patiently (did I mention I’m thirty-six) waiting for…

My love.

My Co-Pilot.

I forgot my phone one day.

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I left the house feeling like something was off. I couldn’t place it. I just knew all was not right. I shrugged it off since I had to get to work though and carried on.

As I was waiting on a 405 off ramp, I glanced at my phone. Or where I thought my phone should be. Uh oh. I sunk my hand in my purse and swished around, hoping to feel that familiar rectangular piece of glass.

It wasn’t there. Damn.

It hadn’t even hit noon yet and I had a long workday ahead of me. I wouldn’t be home, or more notably at that moment, I wouldn’t see my phone, until nearly ten in the evening.

I panicked. A little. Not in the “HOLY SH*%, my finger’s just been sliced off” type way but in the “Crap, I have a two-hour break and without a phone, it will suck” type way.

I turned to the backseat. Damn.

I had forgotten my weekly Hollywood Reporter too (last week’s issue actually, which I was still trying to finish.)

I arrived at work. Oh well, I thought. I did my thing. Served some tables. Poured some drinks. Made some money.

I left for my break. I had a little over two hours before I needed to get back. I started to do the math in my head. I theoretically could have gone home to get my phone and still have time to grab a bite to eat and get some emails or phone calls done. I rationalized it in my head and got in my car.

The 10 was a parking lot, which I habitually got on since I normally work a double and leave around ten in the evening. I spent twenty minutes barely moving and berating myself for caring so much about my phone. I had other work I could do. In fact, I had a meeting with my writing partner the very next day and hadn’t written the scene we were to go over yet.

I went to a quaint little Chinese restaurant, ordered the beef fried rice and settled in for an hour or so at one of their red faux-leather booths.

I wrote the scene on the backs of two printed coupons I had in my car and three index-card-sized pages of paper I ripped out of a notepad I always keep with me.

Flash forward to the meeting with my writing partner.

I told her the story I just told you. Then I read her the scene (which took effort by the way because my writing was hastily scribbled and half the size it should be.) But I read it to her, to which afterward she replied,

“Thank God you forgot your phone.”

I was thrilled she liked the scene, which I wrote based on our notes from a prior session, but I kept wondering if I would have written this same scene had I not forgotten my phone? And what else do I not do because I have my little time-sucking machine attached to fingers should I find myself with an extra minute? I do not want to be a slave to this thing. Yes, I love the convenience of checking my email and not missing important calls but really, Facebook statuses and words with friends and random searches on the web should not be on my to-do list nearly as often as I do them. So readily on my phone.

Think about it. I say, forget your phone sometimes! Okay, just turn it off for a bit? Oh hell, at least put it on silent then…

How much more do you think you’d get done?

Recommendations of proper restaurant etiquette as told by a restaurant server

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I have been in the restaurant business for almost twenty years. Started as a hostess but quickly became a server and I soon fell for the whole machine that is a working restaurant. As I go after my life’s pursuit of filmmaking, restaurants have been my home away from home, my light in a dark tunnel, my pain in the ass and one of my best friends.

I love food. I love wine. I love family and friends. I love dining out. And I LOVE all four, at the same time.

HOWEVER!!

There are rules to restaurant dining…

All those who’ve worked in a restaurant longer than say a year, but most notably servers, are really the most qualified to make such rules simply BECAUSE we are the link between the food and the customer. That is essential in any restaurant dining and therefore, I feel completely qualified to make this list of what I like to call recommendations rather than rules of how one should conduct oneself when dining in public.

RECOMMENDATIONS OF PROPER RESTAURANT ETIQUETTE

1. Do not, and I repeat, DO NOT enter a restaurant fifteen minutes before they close for anything other than picking up a takeout order or an employee there. (Respect the hours of service. Are you going to eat and leave in under fifteen minutes? Then, please come another time.)

2. Okay, no question is a stupid one, but things like, “Is there chicken in the chicken Caesar?” and “Why didn’t you tell me there was all this lettuce in the salad?” are just embarrassing for everyone involved. But if you insist on asking those gems, accept a smart-ass yet comical answer in reply. You deserve one.

3. If you don’t know wine, PLEASE don’t pretend you do. Allow us to help you. That’s why we are there.

4. Accept that your memory of a dish you think you had at a restaurant might be wrong. It will just save everyone a lot of time. Ask about it once, okay. Beyond that, the restaurant will and should win that conversation.

5. Birthday candles – YES. Singing – NO. There are others in the restaurant. Have some decency.

6. Hot water is not a beverage option. It’s an annoyance. Pay for some tea or drink the complimentary water that’s available.

7. Eat where you can afford.

8. If you lounge at a table well beyond your meal, fine, but adjust your tip accordingly in the server’s favor. Why? Because you aren’t renting the table. You are there for a meal. Beyond that, is it really fair for you to stay?

9. Asking for recommendations is like asking a parent who their favorite child is – no one should have to pick. Nor does anyone want to. And in this case, all taste buds are different. If the servers favorite dish is shrimp linguine and you’re allergic to shellfish, you just wasted everyone’s time. The bottom line is you know what you like. Look at the menu and choose. Otherwise, ask your server to order whatever he/she thinks is best and let them do their thing.

10. Don’t wait forever to pay your bill. You received a service. Pay for it when the bill is given to you.

11. Use those wonderful ideas you have on how to improve a menu by opening up your own restaurant and learning for yourself how annoying and disrespectful that actually is.

12. If you are really as close to the chef as you say you are, they’ll know you are in their restaurant and so will we, so there’s no need to name drop.

13. “Have it your way” is BURGER KING’S slogan. Remember that and go there if that’s what you’re looking for.

Salute!

Together, Not Against

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My boyfriend and I have been in our new place for a few months now but we have yet to accept that we have a third roommate, our neighbor’s television.

Our neighbor is LOUD. And she watches television incredibly often (does she work, I don’t know?) and it’s always on decibel 900. (I hope that’s loud, I’m actually not so sure about the whole decibel thing…) She also SLAMS her front door shut and talks at the TOP of her LUNGS as she yaps on the phone for hours. And did I mention she likes to do wall-shaking laundry at two o’clock in the morning?

But hey that’s life. I’m very fortunate and I know it and if this is the worst of my problems, I should shut the hell up. But there was one particular morning, my boyfriend and I learned an important lesson and I’d like to share it with my readers.

We had gone to bed the (Sunday) night before around one in the morning. The television in our neighbor’s apartment, which happens to share a very THIN wall with us, had droned on and on from eight until only God knows since we managed to fall asleep despite the noise.

Then, at around 7:30 in the morning, the television came back on. It sounded like Oprah on crack and a LOUD studio audience. My boyfriend and I were jolted awake and neither of us were happy about it. I grabbed my eye cover and yelled about the noise all the way to the bathroom while my boyfriend grunted and sighed. Under the covers, I tried to will the damn thing off. My boyfriend covered his head with the blanket. Nothing worked though. Cackling middle-aged women were practically in our bedroom at eight o’clock in the morning.

We got more pissed as the minutes passed. I started devising a plan and spoke it out loud despite my boyfriend’s snap, “No talking. It’s too early.” I continued talking about the letter I was going to write to my neighbor and how I would make my point as effectively as possible, using manipulation even if I had too (the things we say when we’re tired!), and I wasn’t done… But my boyfriend got upset and said that we could kiss our apartment goodbye (dramatic much?) and how I’d only be rocking the boat and causing trouble and that she’d probably start to do it even louder.

We laid opposite each other, having gone from practically hugging to no longer touching. I was upset. He was upset. And then, practically at the same time, we both breathed and looked at each other and realized what was happening. My boyfriend hugged me and said that it’s crazy for us to be taking it out on each other right now. I agreed and squeezed him back, thinking, this isn’t about me. Or about him. Or about our neighbor.

It’s about US.

We’re in this together.

We are not against each other.

It may sound simplistic but I’ll tell you this, my whole perspective at how I see the world changed in that moment of realization. Dramatic, much? Yeah. But moments that shape us qualify for such, no?

Not all technology is a Godsend?

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A few weeks ago, I walked into my kitchen and was greeted by an intense, plastic-burning, foul-like smell. My boyfriend was seated at the kitchen table, so I looked at him and said, “What’s that smell?” He replied, “I know, right? Is something burning?” “Yeah baby, something smells wrong,” I replied. We both started searching for the reason behind the pungent odor our kitchen had suddenly taken on. We unplugged and plugged things in until at last, we determined the culprit!

The microwave had died.

Now, I’ve had this microwave for a solid ten years or so. It’s done its job and done it well. I wasn’t sad to part with it or anything but when my boyfriend turned to me and said, “Let’s just not have a microwave,” I was thrown off. No microwave? Seriously? What is this? The Flintstones era? But then I thought about it and soon realized, yeah, it would be nice to not nuke things. It zaps away the nutrients anyway and practically begs for junk food. Last year, I learned stove-top popcorn was THE way to make popcorn and I haven’t gone with the “microwave” kind since. I should have seen this coming but I didn’t…

At first, I was apprehensive. When I reached for leftovers the very day we decided to be microwave-less, I nearly had a stroke. How in hell was I going to heat this up? But then, DUH! Stove top. Have you ever had fried spaghetti? If not, you need to try it. Right now. It’s amazing that I forget sometimes how much so when I just pop it in the microwave and take the easy (though much less tasty) way out.

This was followed by a night in which we made baked potatoes. In the oven. They took much longer, sure, but they were WAYYYYY tastier. Crispy skin, soft inside. YUM. And try reheating french fries in the oven. Delish. Not soggy mush like what happens when you put them in the microwave…

As the days passed, I hardly missed the microwave at all. In fact, the opposite happened. I was forced to use the oven and stove for all types of cooking. Even boiling water was now always in a kettle rather than on a spinning plastic disc but you know what? The food and drinks tasted better. MUCH BETTER, And it’s not wishful thinking, it’s a fact. As proof, try reheating a slice of pizza in the microwave versus the oven. It’s the epitome of what is wrong with the microwave. Rather than crisping the dough and melting the cheese like an oven does, the high-watt voltage machine burns the whole damn thing, bubbling the cheese while zapping and shrinking the dough. Seriously. Test this for yourself at home.

I could go on and on about how much I love not having a microwave, which I absolutely NEVER thought I would say, but instead, I’d rather pose two questions:

Is all technology a Godsend? And if not, why are we as humans not more selective?

Ways to know the Christmas Holiday Season is officially over

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It’s another new year! Whoo Hooo!! And it’s put me in the mood for another top eleven list (and again, for any new readers, eleven is my favorite number so my lists tend to be for that amount…) I have been noticing some signs that the Christmas Holiday Season is over and it got me thinking…

Eleven Ways to Know the Christmas Holiday Season is Officially Over

1. Most streets look like death row for trees.

2. You notice your romantic relationship either deepened or grew a bit apart. (And for those flying solo, you either embraced your singleness or cried about it.)

3. The phrase “You better be good or Santa will know!” no longer has the effect you’re going for when saying to young children.

4. You realize how much paper is actually wasted during the holiday season while you desperately attempt to stuff your recyclables into the tiny blue container.

5. Everyone suddenly has to go to the gym/do yoga/run a marathon.

6. Most of the gifts you bought are now selling for 75% off.

7. You now have the absolute right to ask for any Christmas music to be turned off.

8. You wonder what exactly you spent all your money on.

9. The stores are lining their shelves with Valentine’s Day gifts.

10. The guilt of what you put inside yourself is almost too much to bear.

11. Taxes replace good cheer.

East to West

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I was born on the east coast of America, in upstate New York. And I lived there until I was ten years old, which is arguably during intense growing years of influence and shaping. After I left, I’ve probably visited Buffalo every two or three years for one reason or another. So, the east coast is in my blood.

But…

I’ve lived in Southern California after that, since I was ten. Los Angeles has been home for the majority of my life, with the exception of five and half years spent in San Diego for college (yes, it took me a little longer to graduate…)

Point being, I was a bi-coastal child of sorts. Today, I can meet people from the east coast and relate to them right away. My accent will come out and before you know it we’re talking about pop, snow days off of school and the fact that there’s a brick church on every corner (and if you’re one of those NYC snobs, there is more to New York than you guys, sorry to break it to you… moving on) I can also relate to people from the west coast though, perhaps more so. I’ve gone to junior high and high school here. I was here for the big quake of ’93 and the LA riots. California is part of who I am.

But then, so is New York.

So, as I was thinking about all this, I decided to use my knowledge for good.

Ways to know someone is from California or New York… (albeit in a general manner)

1. 70 degrees will either make you put a jacket on or a pair of shorts.

2. Public transportation is a way of life or a heard-of novelty.

3. Real or make-believe?

4. You know seasons change by the actual weather or from how stores dress their front windows.

5. Walking will mean more than “to the car.”

6. People smile at you, fake or not, rather than ignore you.

7. Close is considered to be either around the block or thirty minutes away.

8. You want a coke and will either ask for a soda or a pop.

9. Your day will be affected by either carpool lanes or public transit breakdowns.

10. You hold a prescription for Atavan or marijuana.

11. Calling a cab will take either five or twenty-five minutes.

Any other ways out there??