Cambios

Sized down

There’s a post somewhere in my drafts folder titled “xs.” That’s about buying a size small red sundress only to find that it was too big. Somewhere in the same file, I started writing another post about meeting my goal weight, maintaining that for 6 weeks (actually 7), and at the end of that achieving Lifetime membership through Weight Watchers. There’s a third about playing “pretty, pretty princess” with Lori.

Needless to say, I’ve been having some issues writing about this and working out my thoughts. Here’s my attempt.

***

On Saturday, Lori and I attended a friend’s birthday party. I left my apartment in a simple brown dress and sandals, but once at home realized I had to change. I forgot about the black and white theme. Fortunately, my sister didn’t mind opening up her closet to me. She offered up a few black and white outfits.

I tried them on, but not without first looking at the tags and thinking, this won’t fit. Last year, there was a 1 before the 4 and the letter after the X was not S. But everything I tried on fit just fine, just as it had when I tried on her pants right after Christmas. I settled on the outfit above out of convenience, laziness and because the other outfits made me feel a bit naked.

Lori then offered up some shoes choices. After settling on leopard print stilettos, I went with these peep-toe sandals. She did my makeup, or what we call playing “pretty, pretty princess.” Sometimes she does my hair too, but we were already running late.

We snapped a few photos, standard practice for when I actually get all dolled up with makeup. Plus, I wanted an “after” picture, even if I think they’re deceptive.

And then we left to the party.

***

I keep looking at the photo. Some of it is vanity. I love the way I look. I’ve never claimed to be modest. (See: a photo I made Sean take while in NY last week.)

Some of it is disbelief that the woman in the photo is me and not Lori, my little sister. In the past 15 years, I’d become accustomed to seeing myself as the brainy, overweight sister. Lori was the smart, slender, athletic sister. She still is.

I’m the one who changed, and I’m still getting used to it.

Música

Julieta Venegas on KCRW

http://www.kcrw.com/music/programs/mb/mb100427julieta_venegas/embed-audio

I missed Julieta Venegas’ appearance on Morning Becomes Eclectic today. I was too stressed with some work stuff.

Anyway, I’ve really been feeling her latest album, especially “Despedida,” quite the cheery breakup song. Julieta describes it as a “sensible goodbye.” (There’s something about Julieta and her breakup songs. Who remembers my obsession with “Me Voy” four years ago? (Yikes. Was it really that long ago?)

If anyone gets to check out her show in Ventura, I want to see pictures of her baby bump. I doubt it will compare to Inara George’s.

Randomness

I love it when my friends become successful

All last summer, I kept checking in on my buddy Kristoffer Diaz’s blog. I saw his Facebook, Twitter and Flickr updates about the Chicago production of his play, The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity. His play garnered a lot of well-deserved attention in Chicago which led to a short run in Philadelphia. Now you can catch a production in Minneapolis. Sadly, I’ve yet to see the play

None of this surprised me. I’ve been telling Kris for a long time (at least since ’04) that I thought he was a genius. On okayplayer.com he’d ask, “give me something to write about.” I’d offer up a word or two and he’d come back with a clever haiku or three. He called them “hailu,” because, you know I’m Cindylu. That summer, I took a three-week trip to Mexico. Kris asked me to write a haiku for him. I wrote 34 in 23 days. Later, he wrote the best thing anyone has ever written for me, “for cindylu (hailunares)”.

Needless to say, any news of Kris’ success makes me happy. I’m not like Morrissey at all, I love it when my friends become successful. This morning, I caught up on some news from yesterday and learned that Kris was a finalist of the Pulitzer.

Whoa!

LAT theater critic Charles McNulty weighs in on the board’s decision, lamenting that the finalists’ distance from NY (“Bengal” was initially produced in Culver City, “Chad Deity” in Chicago, and “In the Next Room” in Berkeley) ultimately hurt them.

Perhaps I should just be grateful for the board’s magnanimity in bestowing a drama prize at all. But though I’m not at liberty to disclose anything about our private deliberations, I haven’t signed a gag order as a theater critic. I’ll grant you it’s a strange job, but what’s the point of having it if you can’t advocate for finalists as talented as Rajiv Joseph’s “Bengal Tiger at the Baghdad Zoo,” Kristoffer Diaz’s “The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity” and Sarah Ruhl’s “In the Next Room or the Vibrator Play”?

These works represent the new guard of American playwriting. And their authors — diverse in background and courageous in style — are discovering fresh ways of connecting politics and poetry onstage. They take their place with writers such as Christopher Shinn, Will Eno, Young Jean Lee and Tarell Alvin McCraney, to name just a few of those contemporary dramatists who care about theater as an art rather than as an expensive diversion. [link]

Congratulations, Kris!

Not sure which makes me happier, to see my friend become [even more] successful or that’s it’s opening day at Dodger Stadium.

Escuela

Six years later

“I’m so excited! I haven’t been back here in ten years,” my co-worker said with an enthusiasm I didn’t expect after traveling for nearly 8 hours.

“I haven’t been back since oh-four,” I offered.

We rolled our bags out of the Detroit airport, which we both agreed look different and much nicer from our previous visits. After checking out the rental car, we drove to Ann Arbor. As we entered his former college town, my co-worker excitedly listed the dives and restaurants he fondly remembered from his undergrad days in the late 90s. I listened, looking out the windows and trying to remember if any of the campus and city looked familiar.

I almost came to Michigan for grad school. I applied to five schools and was admitted to each, but soon Michigan and UCLA became the frontrunners.

During my trip to Michigan, Nahui, my host and good friend from UCLA, told me, “You know where you’re going. You’re just in denial.”

She wasn’t entirely right. I was didn’t make my decision until I spoke to another friend in the same shoes. After that it was all clear, sort of. But a week later, I still asserted on my blog that I’d yet to make a decision. The next day, I had it all figured out:

it’s official
04.07.04 // 4:55 p.m.

I’m not going anywhere. UCLA is the place for me.

Six years later (to the day), I leave Ann Arbor and return to LA. I’m not entirely sure I made the best decision. I certainly don’t regret it, but anyone who has read this for a while knows I’ve had a tough time in my program. I don’t blame the faculty, resources or even my peers. They’ve all been supportive. I’m just not sure I was mature enough or even ready for a PhD program.

Maybe I could have used the time in the [fully funded] Master’s program and additional work experience I would have gained afterward. Would I even be interested in a PhD at that point? Who knows.

Oh well. No sense in mulling over this now. Real life isn’t a Choose Your Own Adventure book. I can’t go back and see what would have been different if I chose Michigan over UCLA. I just know it would be different.

Cuentos

Official

Before the first date, I had already:

(a) promised to love him forever, and not just on his birthday;
(b) negotiated the terms of a long-term relationship and picked out at least one future child’s name;
(c) given him a Valentine’s day gift (and received one from him too);
(d) kissed him;
(d) checked the yes box when he asked, “will you marry me?”; and
(e) made it public.

Despite all this, I was nervous. So was he.

It was like the previous times we’d gotten together to watch TV, have dinner and drinks, play video games, go to a baseball game hadn’t happened. Of course not, that was all while we were just friends.

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