miss adventures

Don't Hesitate

I can see the sun set in your eyes,
Brown and gray, and blue besides.

posted by Lucy Sloan @ 12:26 PM 0 comments

Horrible and Marvelous

I have a very good friend, but with whom I am only in erstwhile touch, who once described something as, "Horrible and marvelous at the same time." Not only did I break out in peals of laughter, but I started to see many things from that unique perspective.

I am trying these days to not be as hard on myself. This is a weird approach to accept when I have considered myself a slacker for most of my life. It's like, how do you tell a slacker to take a break? The real objective here is to say, you are not as much of a slacker as you think you are.

My mom told me this weekend, "We think you are too much of a human being." They have little faith in my ability to be a hard-hitting, no-nonsense businesswoman. They think that I am generally defenseless against life's many assailants. If I stop caring as much, will I then stop being me? I think we all come across this question when considering change.

And now, a random list:

Things I Brought Into My Office This Week

glass bowl filled with six green apples

lilac orchid that died on the way over because it could not survive the 100 degree heat; thus, dead orchid

framed picture of Dozer in a basket

cheap Sony radio, so cheap that I hid it under my desk (where is the music coming from? nobody knows.)

pewter coaster

silver candy dish

clear glass USD Law tumbler used as pen receptacle

Xela Aromasticks in Floral

Yeah, it's a pretty empty office at this point. Likely to stay that way. I suppose it's now time to make use of this office.

posted by Lucy Sloan @ 9:27 AM 3 comments

Moving On Up! And Food.

I mean that literally. Today is exciting because we're going from the 27th floor to the 45th. I snuck a look at my new office yesterday and was giddy and dumbfounded. I took a picture of the makeshift sign on my door -- just a scrap of paper with my name written on it with a Sharpie marker. Anyway, it's enough for me.

Everything up there smells like new house, new construction, that plasticky scent. There is a large fish tank that serves as one of the conference room walls, and many green plants lining up the corridors. I think I am most impressed with how much ambient lighting there will be. That high up, with the windows situated so, creates a different effect than what's on the 27th.

The view from my window is the tops of downtown buildings, many helipads. Whatever they call that which you land a helicopter on. Most prominently, I look down on the top of the One Wilshire building. It's on the other side of where I am now, so I'll have some time to figure out exactly what's beneath me.

I haven't had a chance to blog, because I'm barely home anymore, except to pat Dozer's head and check out a Tivoed episode of "The Golden Palace" (5 in storage right now). Suffice it to say, things are going swimmingly and I'll enjoy it while I can!

Also, this week presented many opportunities for good eats. We tried out Echigo on Santa Monica, which had probably the freshest sushi I've ever eaten. Now, I am not some sushi connoisseur, nor have I actually had it in Japan (that I would recall, since I was so little). And who knows? Perhaps it was just the spare portions and extremely warm, salted rice that created the illusion of extraordinary authenticity. We were also accosted at the front, before being seated, and warned, "There are no California rolls here. No teriyaki." Justin said it may have been a case of racial profiling. He is exceedingly white.

Another night, I finally went to Palomino on Wilshire. Goodness, what excellent rotisserie chicken. What made this different was that the skin was so crisp you would have thought it was fried. The rosemary and pancetta flavoring was too strong and a bit smoky the next day. But I was impressed with the place, and felt that if anything could be categorized Cal-Italian, that was it. They also had a rich Baked Chocolate dessert that is an unusual spin on your flourless chocolate cake.

I also had a prime rib sandwich at Cozy's on Wednesday, that, had I not been pretty hungry, is completely unremarkable. I hoped for horseradish sauce in it, but I think it was mayonnaise and relish. And when I dissected the sandwich -- as I always do -- I think the slab of meat more resembled chuck than prime rib.

Last night was La Bruschetta on Westwood. I had not been there in many years. Maybe some management changed because there were significant improvements. I remember misspellings on the menu and mispronunciations from the Hispanic waiters way back when. In contrast, last night everything was letter perfect and our waiter was a native of Torino. They had an extensive wine list, which listed Brunello di Montalcino, a requisite in any good Italian joint. In fact, that's a good a gage as any, because in Italy everybody knows Brunello is the best.

But I digress. Any time I see tonnato on the menu -- much like prime rib, flourless chocolate, bacon -- I will order it. They had a vitello tonnato which was so perfect and delicate and salty... I asked that they box it up so I could enjoy it in the days ahead. And for nostalgia's sake I ordered the spaghetti alle vongole. I do believe Manila clams belong in Asian food, but they did it so well. I can't really attest to what made it so good, maybe too much white wine and way too salty, but this is how I like my Italian food. I can't even say it was authentic, but damn tasty. I had it this morning for breakfast.

Gosh, I'm getting hungry. Tonight I'm having something downtown with j. and Reynabelle. Tomorrow night will be a potluck and I plan on making something overly complicated. Sunday, I've requested Szechuan with my mom.

And this is the thing. Although I will have eaten out 5 nights this week and endeavored something of good culinary mettle tomorrow, nothing will compare to Sunday lunch with Mom. We will have salted pork in hot oil and maybe something slow-roasted in a clay pot. And these Chinese dishes will outshine everything that I've had this week. I can't, can't wait.

posted by Lucy Sloan @ 9:50 AM 0 comments

Weekend Compendium

We were sitting on the grass this morning, at the Farmer's Market in Venice. I thought about how I would recount the weekend, having devoted many previous posts to the art of the great weekend.

For all intents and purposes, it was fulfilling and perfect. But the end of Sundays -- frankly, for many weeks now -- seem to immerse me in an undefinable melancholy that I can't shake. I'm not disheartened at all that I have to go to work tomorrow (though I do feel anxious about the work I have to take care of). I am just overwrought, a little burned out, and for many hours now have not known what to do with this feeling.

I also feel a little guilty, like I've been a bit of a prick to a lot of friends and family. There are so many calls unreturned, overdue conversations not initiated. Something is off-kilter.

But back to Main Street. I had a fancy breakfast plate filled with barbecue chicken, guacamole, creme fraiche, caramelized onions, and home fries. I bought two heirloom tomatoes that are ripening now in the kitchen. We had copped a squat on a small patch of grass, near happy children with painted faces and another kid who was totally conked out, spread-eagle napping on the grass. The moment had character and charm.

Justin said that he missed having pancakes. My mind immediately wandered to Tea-Upon-Chatsworth, which was just the day before. I imagined the tiny buttermilk scone served in the second course. It made me miss baking. It was a memorable pastry that I am still thinking about. It was tea with two beautiful ladies I am gratified to call my friends. And I remembered how deeply and heartily I laughed.

And I backtracked some more to dim sum at Jasmine. I really pigged out, eating shrimp and pork this-and-thats with my favorite Nazi and his Polish lady. He made me laugh an awful lot, too, with his colorful stories, and our mutual admiration for each other's bawdy senses of humor.

Rewind a bit to Friday night. It was frenetic and stressful, but ultimately I was back to regular form at JBar. At the end of the evening was the all-white bed Cirrus had prepared for me. In the morning, she climbed into the sheets with me and we laughed and gossiped, all while she was holding her copy of the Dalai Lama's "The Art of Happiness At Work."

I'm all over the place, even with the chronology of this post. Last night I got reacquainted with Ketel One tonics. We ended up in a tepid hot tub and I remember singing "Con te partiro" with John, who sort of languished by the hot tub in a Bacchanalian stance. I remember giggling a lot, and snapping tons of pictures that look ridiculous a day later.

Ah, the stories I have to tell. If you only knew!

I already see another week flying by. I don't want time to pass this quickly. I miss lots of things, right now, that I can't even name.

If I could find a real life place to make me feel like Tiffany's, then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name.

- Holly Golightly

posted by Lucy Sloan @ 11:47 PM 0 comments

The Most Special Things

Gee, the last thing I want to do when I get home from a day of sitting in front of the computer, is sit in front of the computer. But the best thing that I could see when I come home, is a gift. Sitting on my bed.

Frank left me a book. It was sitting in the center of my bed. He wrote the book. It is entitled, Der strafrechtliche Schutz gegen ungerechtfertigte Vermogensverchiebungen in England und Wales im Vergleich mit dem deutschen Strafrecht. (I don't know how to create umlauts on here, but there's one over the first O in Vermo...)

So, can anybody help me with that? Reyna, how's your German coming along? Flipping through it, I see that Frank had wrote an entire book about well, some kind of comparative law. I saw words like "common law" and "mens rea" in there -- I suppose a comprehensive discussion of British law in German must require those words.

Anyway, I was impressed, and touched. Last night we were eating cheap Chinese and chugging beers. Today I find that he's a fucking scholar like none other.

Inside, there was a note:

To my all LA girl,
dim sum and Crim Pro teacher,
Karen, my fc*.
Yours,
Beaker.

* "favorite chink" (as he is my favorite Nazi)

Different blog about how he came to be known as Beaker, but yes, it's the one from the Muppet Show. Maybe it has to do with him having sung the Fraggle Rock song to me in German, multiple times.

I'm very happy right now. In such a state, my pink bag and I will definitely enjoy the ride down to San Diego.

Tchuss.

posted by Lucy Sloan @ 7:15 PM 0 comments

A Good Night's Rest

I'm sitting here now, marveling at how deeply I slept last night. Why marvel? Because it was not, by any means, undisturbed sleep. I had a vivid series of dreams that spoke to many of my interests which, lately, have been buried beneath work and social obligations.

I dreamt about a crazy crackhead house that my dad had designed, a real architectural nightmare. There were narrow hallways and low ceilings, perils and pitfalls for bouts of claustrophia. It was a real structural monstrosity. And then the dream segued into my own little property, which in comparison was more like a bungalow with beechwood tones and white denim furniture.

I think this is because I was reading the Jennifer Aniston interview in Vanity Fair last night before beddy bye, and that's how they described her bachelorette digs. Also because we were strolling Beverly Boulevard last night and walked past some fabulous furnishings. But this is really because I have a great interest in home decor which, with minutes and seconds apportioned to all else these days, I only have time to nurture in my sleep.

Anyway, the rest of the dream is too abstract and nonsensical to interest anybody. There was a faux report card where I had "amjured" a class called "Biology Law" but had miserably failed another rinky-dinky class. This, of course, spoke to my continuing puzzlement with my mixed academic performances.

Frank and Magda are in town this week. They have set up camp in our living room, and Dozer enjoys the manmade jungle gym of German luggage and beddings. We're doing precious little thanks to my work schedule, and anything we've planned involves eating Asian food in places of dubious cleanliness. Awesome.

posted by Lucy Sloan @ 11:51 AM 0 comments

My Pinch-Me Life

Dozer is my sweet boy. Lately, I have been very selfish. Never around or distracted because of work, and outside of this apartment pursuing my increasingly fleeting free time. And yet, he stays very loyal, and when I'm here he is close to my feet and quite talkative. That's why he's my sweet boy, and breaks my heart.

When I won the car last year, my dad bounded onto the lot afterward to drive the car home. I was standing there with one of the production assistants. My dad went straight to the PA and exclaimed, "Somebody pinch me!" His characterization of the moment stuck with me. Since then, I realized that my life has actually been fraught with these pinch-me moments.

Well, I realized this tonight in the downward-facing dog pose. Just in the right mindset to achieve some measure of gratification. The time I was on the plane for Rome. Anytime I passed Royce Hall. The day I felt like I really spoke Italian. The time I was in that field of flowers in Castelluccio. When I graduated law school. The car thing. Even the first time I sat for the Bar exam and saw the words across the testing booklet.

It takes 3 elevators and 2 access passes to get up to my workspace. But from there, I can see the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, the Library Tower, the roof of the Standard Bar, and cars so small that it challenges my concept of depth perception. So then, I pinch myself a little.

posted by Lucy Sloan @ 10:49 PM 2 comments

Just Under the Buzzer

Right now, I have the feeling as if:

1) I've eaten too much sushi.
2) I sang all too loudly, too much.
3) I've read too many words today.
4) I've talked to too many people today, about too many things.
5) Today was the turnaround, the catalyst, a real page in my life.

But, tomorrow promises to be even fuller.

posted by Lucy Sloan @ 11:36 PM 0 comments

Vivo

Yesterday, I was thoroughly pathetic. Anxiety, and maybe the remnants of last week's caffeine, modafinil, and alcohol, coursed through my veins, as I willed myself to relax against their chemical assault. But my mind raced about the Bar exam, my life, my career, my relationships, my obligations, my dreams, and even my hair color that is just a bit too light. I spent the day pursuing the things I felt I could always exert control over: cleaning and cooking. I made a few elaborate dishes for my dinner party of one. And I laid reclined on the comfy, cushy couch, staring at the ceiling and waiting for the dread to pass.

I knew I was engaged in a fucked-up mentality that had no basis in reason or functional living. It was like last summer, when my study partner and I would walk past a bum on the street and be resentful of him because he had no responsibilities. It's when you make cruel comparisons like that, when you know you've gone cuckoo. I could not enjoy my normal cooking shows (Monday afternoons have the best slate) because I kept thinking how meaningless and silly their craft was. And for me to think that, is really trouble. That's when I've hit rock bottom.

Cirrus calmed me down. She has a soothing, familiar quality, and will invariably say the one thing that creates the turning point in my depression. In the evening, determined to pursue a "if not now, when?" attitude, I allowed myself to partake in a little Monday night leisure. Justin told me about some SIGGRAPH parties and we wound up at the Mayan, then the Hotel Figueroa. There remains in those moments something indefinable that I will always remember, if not be able to describe.

I came back to voice-mails. And emails. Two partners at the firm asking for my help. Long-lost friends who I will reconnect with. You know, the promise of things to come and the reminder to stop acting so selfish.

At Peet's this morning, I was able to enjoy a cup of Kona as if all the answers were inside that cup. Slowly, imperceptibly, I began to feel the way I had felt before any of this had ever started. I am more myself, every minute.

posted by Lucy Sloan @ 3:56 PM 0 comments

I Know

I have to stop thinking about it. It's hard to. It's actually something I knew cold and for some reason I wasn't able to pull it out. I had the mnemonic in my head since July of 2004. Maybe I can just throw myself into work. And stop punishing myself. Anyway, this is definitely a confessional.

posted by Lucy Sloan @ 11:30 AM 0 comments