The sunsets in my parents’ backyard are seriously beautiful. I never have to enhance the photo or use any kind of filters. This particular night was right after a rare cloudy day in California so its felt extra fucking special. I can’t wait to be back next year. 

The sunsets in my parents’ backyard are seriously beautiful. I never have to enhance the photo or use any kind of filters. This particular night was right after a rare cloudy day in California so its felt extra fucking special. I can’t wait to be back next year. 

I saw this yesterday while browsing the internet. 
James: “hey, just like you.”

I saw this yesterday while browsing the internet. 

James: “hey, just like you.”


(Source: mysimpsonsblogisgreaterthanyours, via 120260)



My talented and amazing best friend, Katie, started an online boutique selling her hand crafted jewelry collection that she made with vintage and contemporary pieces. This one happens to be one of my favorite pieces of jewelry of all time (sup Kanye). She’s so talented and I always die over everything she makes. I hope great things happen with Visceral Enrapture because her and her friend deserve all the success in the world (not that I’m biased or anything). Congratulations my love!


AFTER CHRISTMAS SALES HAVE BEGUN. I love this time of the year more than Christmas and Thanksgiving combined (which is saying a lot because eating and gift giving are two of my all-time favorite hobbies). Of course the first store I hit during this most important time of the year is Zara. I prefer Zara’s winter sale to their summer—I feel their fall/winter collections are always far superior to their spring and summer collections.


First to be crossed off my wishlist of 2012 are these pair of studded leopard print flats. Nothing in that sentence is too much. Studs? Leopard? FLATS?! They also have this cute little strap that makes me feel dainty and lady-like. They were clearly made in the same vein as the Valentino Rockstuds but way more awesome because they’re 1/12th of the price and just as cute. I’m sure the Rockstuds will be on its way “out” but I’ll covet them forever in the exact same way I am still yearning for the 2010 Margiela relaxed python booties. One day, Margiela. One day.


                             Sorry I’m not sorry but these are still beyond.

Next: a studded peplum leather skirt. I will admit, with my body frame, this skirt looks hideous on me but I don’t care. I’m putting it in my “skinny” pile and when I become bone thin (which will probably be never considering my dad gave my the gift that will never stop giving: his body type) it will look effortlessly beautiful on me. None of that is true, it will not look good on me but I don’t care. It was on sale and it’s gorgeous. It deserves to be in my closet, even as a sartorial decoration and far-fetched dream.


Lastly, Isabel Marant Suede sneakers in black. I know, these are not going to be around for much longer. In fact, when they first came out a year ago, I thought they were just absolutely hideous. I remember thinking they were such a sin of fashion. High top sneaker? You’ve got to be kidding me. But maybe after seeing them on teeny tiny models and fashionistas pairing them with my all-time favorite outfit: leather leggings, big over-size white tees and bold statement necklaces I thought they were to die for. I’m lucky to live in the greatest country for knock-offs that I’ll be able to find these puppies for a fraction of the retail price and I won’t feel bad about having them once they go out of style in a few weeks.


                                                   image here

How CUTE does Teen Vogue’s Beauty Editor Eva Chen look in these? How can you hate shoes that make you look both youthful and fashion forward? You just can’t. I guess it helps when you’re so adorable like her. Next to Olivia Palermo, she is my fashion idol.


                                   Image courtesy of Eva’s Tumblr

My best friend K and I found this awesome fabric booth shopping last week and I saw some really great prints that I know will make amazing dresses and skirts. I would learn how to sew but I have a feeling that pipe dream won’t actually come to fruition. I’m hoping to find a really great tailor so I can get one of a kind dresses and skirts made with all the prints I find. Eeeep! PROJECT!!

Can’t wait for the weekend.


new year

I know myself well enough that making a new year’s resolution will be an absolute failure. I’ve made approximately 5 resolutions that I can remember off the top of my head and not a single one I’ve kept longer than a week.

Not to say new year’s resolutions are impossible to keep in general. I envy those people who are determined to lose all that holiday weight by summer time or read one book a week for the entire year. I admire and applaud all those who decide to keep up with them.

But this year? I’ve decided I will make a resolution I can keep. One single resolution that I hope will easily integrate into my life and stay there forever. (FOR-EV-ER)

I’m going to become more positive in 2013.

More specifically, when things don’t go the way I planned. For the most part, I would say my outlook on essentially everything tips toward positive. I tell myself to expect the worst but always, always hope for the best.

I do, however, want to change how I react to situations. I want to work on my compulsive personality and my need for control. I wouldn’t say I’m a control freak when other people are involved but I am a control freak when it comes to myself and any situation that I am directly involved in. It’s become a bit of an issue in my professional life and at times, is present in my personal life as well. I guess I hold a lot of guilt when I don’t do everything in my power to make sure something goes right my way. But I shouldn’t. I need to learn to just let things go.

I hope this one keeps.


Life slips by so quietly. You don’t even realize how quickly it goes until you stop to think about it. My life has changed so drastically in the last year that thinking about it gives me heart palpitations. When I see my parents, I notice how gray their hairs are getting, the wrinkles forming around their eyes, their hands seems smaller, are they getting shorter, too? It makes me feel so much anxiety thinking about. Can’t it slow down just a little bit?

And when I think about how terribly I started 2012 (sitting alone in a hospital room? brutal) I’m so happy to be alive. I know, ridiculously trite and cliche but I can’t describe it. I tend not to think about those 6 long weeks spent in the hospital in which the first two weeks I didn’t really know if I was going to live. Moments of fleeting clarity bring me back to that feeling of desperation, just wanting to live.

But life’s been beating me up left, right and center (trademarked phrase). It’s hard to feel lucky when you think the world’s crushing you with failed expectations and frustration mounting on your shoulders. It’s difficult to step outside yourself, take a breath and power through especially when you can’t escape the disappointment.

And then something wonderful happened to me this week.

Someone gave me this note:


And it brought me back up.

All those thoughts about how hard everything in my life has been lately just dissolved. It’s exactly what I needed to bring me back in the moment.

People don’t realize grand gestures, while amazing in their own right, aren’t necessary. Small ways to show that you care or that you notice really make the most difference. This note gave me a serious high…

Until today!!! when that same co-worker told me when they first met me, they couldn’t get over how pretty I am.

Now, I normally don’t like to talk about looks. If you’re good looking, normally you know it and don’t need to be reminded #prettygirlproblems

I’m not blind but I most certainly can not sit here and say I’m a ravishing beauty because I’m not. I schelp around in gym shorts and only wear respectable clothing when there are at least 3 other people present. And most times, my hair just lays flat on my head because I’m too lazy to put the curling iron or flat iron to straighten the mess out (pun intended).

BUT when they told me this, it (obviously) boosted my confidence and ego. The compliment came at the perfect time. I’ve been feeling sort of schlubby lately (schlubby? I had to have been Jewish in another life). I think most girls have those moments when they finally admit to things like this, and show some vulnerability.

So, even though life isn’t as awesome as it normally is, I’ll tally this week as a win.


NEW YORK (The Borowitz Report)—Republican Presidential choice Mitt Romney shocked the political world today by releasing a picture of his choice for Vice-President—a man who, political insiders admit, was on nobody’s short or long list. 

post adolescent idealistic phase

I don’t particularly relate to a lot of characters I see on TV or in movies. On the rare occasion, I will box myself into a certain archetype for the sake of the (drinking) game I’m playing or conversation. The closest character I ever related to that I saw on TV was a person competing on Survivor but they’re a real person and not a scripted, constructed character. And also, Monica from Friends. She used to be fat, like to be clean and in control.

Recently, however, I started watching a show on HBO called Girls. It’s a group of early to mid-twenty something year old girls living in New York City. Sounds bland and already done but the writing on this show is so, for lack of a better word, NOW. They’re all sharp, quick witted, strong and flawed characters that resonated with me from the moment I watched it. It wasn’t until I watched the latest episode, I realized someone finally gets me.

Marnie is my soul mate. Reason one: when Marnie goes through all her ex-boyfriend’s pictures with his new girlfriend and says ‘ew’ to every single one—that’s my morning routine. And it’s not even reserved for ex-boyfriends either. Sorry FaceBook friends the jig is up: I judge all the pictures you put up of yourself, nauseating couple pictures, your BABIES, your dogs, engagement rings, pinned things on pinterest… everything. (I judge myself too when I put up any picture within said categories. I sometimes hesitate posting certain pictures knowing there are people like me out in the world.)


This scene is so spot on I thought I was looking at myself. Being miserable, eating junk food and sifting through FaceBook pictures post break up? Looks like me circa every single failed relationship of significance. Or just the one. It’s always the first one that shakes you to your core but without that mind numbingly miserable break up, I wouldn’t be so sure of what I want from myself and from other people now.
It’s a rite of passage that I’m glad to have conquered earlier in my adulthood. Especially knowing how much of a Type A I really am.


Which is reason number two why I think Marnie and I are beschert souls. I know relating to a TV character is so banal and cliche but everything about Marnie is me minus the flawless skin (my inner Cali girl will never stop abusing the sun). I may not be as open as my TV counterpart about my uptight and perfectionist personality but I know it’s there. Down to her personal style—she never looks totally comfortable in her clothes. She looks put together but never matchy, modern but not ‘of the moment’, her clothes are never flowy and bohemian, although I’m sure she would like to be, they’re rigid and tailored to her body type with never a hair out of place.

I’ve been going through a personal revelation of sorts in the last few months. I sincerely used to believe I was so laid back almost borderline apathetic but there were things that always bugged me that shouldn’t bother actual relaxed humans. Little things like unmade beds or papers being filed out of order. To my horror I finally pinpointed my flaw: I’M A TYPE A MASQUERADING AS A TYPE B.

So, when the show decided to depict Marnie going through with this break up I was on board. People who seem to have it all together and try their hardest to make sure everything goes according to their plan, fail? I’m all about it. It humanizes her in a way that I can totally understand.

It’s not so much she’ll miss him, clearly she didn’t even like him that much when they were together but when her control seems to be slipping away from her, she starts going crazy. Her need to and for control is what drives her to this temporary post relationship insanity. She doesn’t know what to do with herself. She is so used to being the one making the decisions, pleasing others besides herself, it’s the control she perceives herself to have in every single situation makes her feel at ease.

She is the definition of a control freak and in some ways I feel they almost caricaturize her need to control on the show but I definitely understand how she feels. The hardest thing for me to grapple with when I went through my own breakup was the lack of control I had over the situation. It wasn’t that I’d miss the person I was breaking up with since we broke up for a reason. No one puts their time and energy in any relationship just to break up. It’s not all done in vain. In all honesty, he wasn’t the most amazing person so in reality I wouldn’t have missed our relationship either. It was the fact that my life had changed so drastically in a matter of HOURS after breaking up.

You entire routine changes. Everything you wear, eat, listen to, touch, see—it all has a memory attached. There’s almost like this other world that’s now inaccessible.

"Can’t go to this restaurant, don’t want to break down while ordering my meal. Can’t talk to these people, those are his friends. Can’t go to the bar or club, afraid I’ll run into him.”

You’re trapped in this alternate “I just broke up with somebody” universe when all you want to do is escape it. That’s mainly how I got addicted to spaghetti and hot dogs. I finally started cooking for myself since I had to eat and those were the only two things I could cook back in college.

And it’s always at the end of something, do you remember the beginning. All the reasons you broke up with this person come secondary to how you feel. Then you start to mistake those feelings for actual sadness instead of anxiety or helplessness. Emotions are the worst.

Marnie’s ungraceful breakup reminded me of my own but not in the painful way that a lot of people assume. Watching her go through her misery then seeing her push her unbridled feelings into something so far off made me so appreciative of how normal I came out of my own breakup. Some people stay with you forever, in good ways and bad but they’re in your life and your memories for a reason. A day never goes by without reminding myself of how far I’ve come.

And Marnie’s extreme reaction to her uptight personality? Made me love her even more. She is self-aware and there’s nothing more powerful or liberating than finally knowing who you are (whether that quality you are aware of is good or bad). Of course she’s going to come off as a raging bitch next to her meek and backbone(r)less ex-boyfriend but girls like her need someone who’s aggressive, strong willed and relaxed to balance out her own strong personality and need to be the alpha female.

I’ve never been so glad that a fake TV relationship is over.

I hope this show never goes away.


I read my friend’s blog the other day (READ IT SHE’S AMAZING) and inspired me to start writing in mine again. Work has been getting the best of me lately so it’s nice to take a nice break from it all and remind myself of the one thing that brings pure and uncomplicated joy into my life: fashion.

I am so happy and relieved the weather is getting mild. I’m really getting sick of wearing tights with all my skirts and dresses. My legs need to breathe (Although, I really enjoy the lack of shaving). Also, they constrict my midsection and make me feel like a chunk monster even though only the anorexiest (it’s a word) of humans can feel no pressure when wearing tights. Also, how unsexy do they make you feel knowing they ride up past your belly button? Or is that just me? Man, I’m old.

Anyway, SPRING IS FINALLY COMING! Today’s post is dress-centric. Tomorrow’s post will be less so. In any case, I need all of these things in and around my closet:


Everything about this dress is spring. To the color, shape, down to the white thread details. I want and need. I wish they made it in mint (the color du jour of S/S ‘12)


This dress just brings me back to the days I’d wear shirts as dresses back in college. Except longer and not as whorish. Reminiscent of Alexander McQueen, a mix between S/S 2009 and 2010, seen here:



(I still die over any piece from his 2010 RTW collection. The McQueenadillos and aquatic theme are still etched into my soul. Only true artists can do that to a person. Rest in Peace, Lee.)


I love any dress with an unexpected detail. I’m a huge fan of the shift silhouette. Makes you look pregnant but that means you don’t have to suck in.


And of course, I just added a nice vest because vests are the best thing that has happened to me since I put bolonga and cheese in the microwave by accident to create to most delicious and fattening snack on the face of the universe. Unfortunately (or fortunately, however you look at it), I can no longer stomach the thought of bologna clogging up my arteries but the happiness that comes from thinking about it I’m on board with.

This vest will soon become part of my vestival! Can’t wait to introduce it to the others.

(Images from,


I find it extremely hard to believe I’ve been in the hospital for 42 days… so unless I counted my days wrong, it’s the 42nd day of beingheld against my own willat this “hospital” (I wonder if i unknowingly committed myself into a mental institution disguised as a regular hospital………… impossible. Because then they’d give me fun drugs to try and lord knows I’ve been having none of that.)

Highlight of the week: 

Apparently, I was not lucky enough to born with heroine addict veins and those fuckers are so hard to find on my arms (even after having the tourniquet wrapped around my arm for so long my fingers go numb and turn purple) the nurses always resort to hooking up my IV to the veins in my hand. For those of you who’ve never had the displeasure of being hooked up to an IV, your hand is maybe one of the worst places to have one. You are basically left using one hand and the hand with the IV is sore all day since there is zero fat and muscle to protect you from the needle pumping drugs directly into your blood flow. In short, it fucking sucks

So, I was hooked up to my (come to find out UNNECESSARY) IV for less than a day and it became swollen. Not just a “oh man, we should change that soon before it swells more”, no.. of course not. That’s not how my life works, it’s go hard or go home with this body. It looked like my hand was pregnant. Or it ate my other hand. It was so swollen, I had no knuckles and it looked like someone blew up a latex glove to the absolute maximum elasticity the glove can handle before it explodes. I HAD A FAT BABY HAND!

I still haven’t recovered. It’s been 5 days and my pinky finger has no knuckle. Poor pinky finger. She’s so lonely. 

These bruises are no joke. 

Week 5.5

Forget seeing a dump on the floor..

I am watching a group of middle aged Koreans in Jessica McClintock gowns that would put any redneck prom to shame singing a remix of “As the Saints Go Marching In.” a REMIX

Now I know what rock bottom feels like. 

The Difference Between:


Normal Girls:

And Me:

(via 120260)

Watch The Throne

                Someone dumped in the middle of the hallway last night. All. Time. Low.

               (They needed one of these porcelain thrones to assist them in their mission)

At first, I thought I was seeing things (I’ve been wearing the same glasses/contacts for years) but as I slowly approached the pile, the overwhelming scent of sulfur and shame shocked my nasal passageways with such absolute offense that I cringed.. violently. Now, my friends and family know me well enough to attest to the fact that I appreciate a healthy bowel movement. I’m a huge proponent of doodying but is it really necessary to drop one in a public area where there is no actual bowl available to drop the kids off? I saw a man and a woman standing around it so I will just assume it was one of them but I saw no stains on either of them so the case of the mystery dump will go unsolved. For now. I may or may not ask for a copy of the CCTV tape because I want to see who in their right mind just dumps one 100 feet away from a toilet.

So, being in the hospital is super glamorous.

Damn, It Feels Good To Be a Gangsta

When I started this blog, I wanted to keep it light—things I find funny on tv, make fun of reality shows (really Kim, your marriage was real?), poke fun at how desperate gossip bloggers are at trying to be famous (ahem perez hilton) and fashion that inspires me to be less of a slob. Nothing serious, nothing hard hitting, nothing too personal. I wanted to keep it surface level and not delve deep into any insights I have on serious topics because let’s be honest, serious shit is boring. There’s only so much one can say about how they feel and what they will do about it. Cry yourself to sleep, I don’t want to hear about your feelings or your hopes and dreams.

But then I landed in the hospital. So I have decided to infuse my poor and ignored blog with some thoughts on the current events (of my life).

Initially, I thought it was a simple appendectomy. I came to the hospital alone, having no clear idea of what would happen to me in the next 24 hours. I had a little stomach pain, nothing I couldn’t grin and bear through for a couple of months but one morning it became more than I could stand. Went to my doctor and she freaked out after she pushed down on my right side and sent me to the hospital so I could have surgery. I figured they’d slice it, close me up, and I’d be out in a week. A week turned into two, then three, and now four. I’m closing in on week five in the hospital with no end in sight. No date as to when my fine looking ass is leaving this joint. To make myself feel better, I keep saying my doctor is either a) taking advantage of my (mom’s) wealth or b) he can’t resist this and wants to see me 6 days a week looking really pretty with my dried out hospital skin and fancy hospital clothes. I’m not cynical so it has to be latter.

They put a drain in my lower abdomen to drain out the rest of the infection. Turns out it wasn’t an appendectomy but a desperate attempt to save what was left of a very important part of my intestines. The appendix didn’t actually burst but got infected and  slowly started to rot away my insides. Probably for months, my doctor assumes. And since the appendix (the most useless part of your body) is attached to a very important part of your body (the colon), it decided to literally be a pain and infect the part where my small and large intestines meet. Apparently, this part serves a very important function (doody!) so cutting it out, while an option, wasn’t really an option because as a 24 year old, my doctor correctly assumed I wouldn’t want to wear diapers for the rest of my life. Had I been 64 and not 24, the decision to cut my colon would have been a simple one. I mean, what’s 20-25 years of incontinence and diarrhea as opposed to 50? So, I now sit here (im)patiently waiting for the rest of the infection to drain so I can crip walk out of this dump.

I’ve never had the pleasure of being in the hospital before this, unless you count those times I went to my school’s medical center (shout out to UHS) to get excuse notes for my required Spanish language courses. I would go in, tell them I think I have a cold, they would give me an excuse letter and a pregnancy test and I would be on my way back to sleeping off my massive hangover that made me skip class in the first place. Foolproof. Don’t ask me how I schmeagled my way into graduating on time. It still boggles my mind.

Anyway, being in this hospital is obviously much worse as it was neither my choice nor my decision. Especially the amount of heavy emotion that courses through my body. This doesn’t compare to any experience I’ve ever had. (Maybe besides my grandmother dying—took me awhile to deal with that disaster. I coped with it any rational 20 year old would… I got a tattoo. Does that mean maybe it’s time for tattoo number two? To chronicle this epic hospital stay that’s been wearing down my spirit. I just don’t know what kind of tattoo would be appropriate to commemorate this journey. A small syringe on my ass cheek? A red cross on my chest? A sexy nurse on my ankle? The possibilities are endless).

I don’t think I’ve ever been more angry yet simultaneously grateful at my body because I’ll be honest: I could have died. Then again, my spirit is waning being here for weeks on end. But like I say about Barack Obama: the alternative is much worse. So, unlike Chiyo/Sayuri from Memoirs of a Geisha, I happily accept my fate and feel lucky to be alive. No matter how hard it is to actually feel alive in a hospital, I look back and think of how my life will be filled with fun, family, friends, and many voluntarily growth experiences outside of my apartment and work. I’m 24 years old and I have a long life to live. I have so much in my life that I could easily not have at all. I don’t think I’ll come out of this as one of those people that totally turns their leaf over and starts to become this “live life to the fullest” maniacs—not my style. But I think there’s a sense of adventure that’s been ignited that I wasn’t really concentrating on before I came. I’m a Type A (personality AND blood I’ve come to find out) and needing things in perfect order with a routine is really important to me but I think that routine will be a little less perfect when I leave and start to indulge in a bit more.

It’s always the gold lining that we need to look at, right? (Silver linings are for losers).

Dog Days

To quote the yuppie alt rock band, Staind: “It’s been awhile since I could stand on my own two feet.”

Backstory: for some unknown reason (although my mother and sister have their own (read: ridiculous) theories about this), I am a petri dish of germs. And not just any kind of germs, no no, it’s the kind that attack your body, leaving you defenseless, weak and crying for someone to relieve you of the massive pain that’s intruding into your organs. It’s the kind of illness that helps you lose those extra libbies from that donut or, in my case, box of chicken I ate (alone) one lazy Monday night. The most painful way to lose weight, if you ask me.

"I’m one stomach flu away from my goal weight!"

Long story short, I’m back with a fury. All those lost days feeling sorry for myself and lying in bed full of agony, albeit super skinny, are gone. Let’s hope I developed some sort of immunity to whatever virus decided to take residence deep into my soul, rendering me useless in terms of blogging. Well, no. In terms of everything.

Now that it’s August and the humidity is raging, it makes me yearn for fall weather even more. I’ve started to make a fall shopping list with all the essentials I’ll need to help me transition into disgusting winter.

First on on my list: J Brand’s 11’ skinnies in Rust. Unfortunately, Shopbop has sold out of these since this color is the hottest thing since.. well, neons in spring/summer. The color palette for fall has taken the bright colors of S/S 11 and toned them down to mimic a fall weather pattern. Lots of bronzey, muted yellow-y and deep reds with an occasional aubergine.


Next: Zara’s Sheepskin Gilet. I can never resist a great faux fur (in this case sheepskin) vest. The color is perfect for layering and the longer silhouette makes it easier to throw over virtually everything. In. Love.


Last (for now): Isabel Marant’s Reilly Jacket. The lady-like structure and sequins makes this a must have (at least for me). Wear it with everything: dress up jeans, soften a leather look or be uber chic by wearing it with a midi length pencil skirt. You cannot go wrong with this. My favorite part has to be the turquoise embellishments on the collar. Thanks Izzie for saving me time in the morning by not having to decide what accessories I need to wear on top of this lavish jacket. You think of everything, don’t you?


Fall essentials? To be continued. For now, though, I will keep a bucket next to me to catch all the drool that will drip out of my mouth until these items are not just in my closet but on my back (and butt). Preferably all at once.

(Source:,, polyvore)