Miss Euro Blogger - Bursting the Bubble

LaLaLand. Hollyweird. LA-Bubble. There are many names that express how aware we all are that we live in an odd place. Girls are ditzy. Guys are meat heads. Models are anorexic. And everyone is somehow connected to the biz. Pretty much every waiter and waitress I've had wants to be and actor or an actress. The other day someone handed me his business card and it just said 'Entertainer' on it. WTF? So, if I tear off my clothes and jump in a hotel pool can I call myself an entertainer because, well, I just entertained a whole bunch of people, didn't I? After nearly a decade in the City of Angeles, I've come to terms with it - the city's strange ways. I've accepted it for what it is and I appreciate what it has to offer. It took me a long time to get here. But I have arrived! Not that I want to be included in the ditzy crowd or the biz-hungry entertainers of the city. Not at all. But while I used to try to make LA something it is not - more like Europe? les

People back home - or even Americans living outside California - often ask me if I'm not scared living in area with such frequent seismic activity. I can honestly admit that I am terrified of earthquakes - especially because I work in downtown LA on the 31st floor of a skyscraper. The icing on the cake is that there is a fault line that runs right underneath downtown LA. In late July of 2008, just before lunch time, the leaves of my potted plant on my desk started to move suspiciously. Next thing I knew, the ground under my chair was shaking. I know it was only seconds but it felt like forever. I sit nowhere near a window but looked through my coworker's office outside and thought I could see the ground. He told me stand in the doorway. I was determined not to cry - not to show weakness - but there came the tears. Soon after, the shaking stopped. The elevators were out of order for quite some time. So were the landline phones. And even cell phone service was unrealiable. Peop

My most recent trip over Christmas and New Year’s took me to the Caribbean and Miami. One place was good for the soul the other... well, we were in South Beach - ‘nuff said. In the late summer of last year, my friend Atilla told me about a trip he was planning to Miami for New Year’s and that he wanted to take tack on a few days in the Virgin Islands - since he was in the area and all. He said he was looking for a travel buddy. My ears perked up. Travel you said? I’m in!! And so the planning started. We had evening meetings, weekly phone calls and daily emails. Where are we going? What are we gonna do? What hotel are we gonna stay at? Do you snore? Do you have some weird habits I should know about before we embark on this adventure. No? Well, we’ll see. The excitement was building. Takeoff was December 24th. Atilla was already in Miami. We met up at the airport. On my way to meeting him, I caught a glimpse of a ‘new’ destination on the departure announcement screen: Havana, Cuba. F

...is cooking dinner. ...doesn't know what to watch on TV tonight. ...is looking for a restaurant recommendation. ...likes your photo/activity/status/bowel movement. I'll be the first to admit that the general content on people's social networking profiles is beyond boring. Do you really think that people care that your cat just spit out a hair ball? That your boyfriend cooked you dinner? That your favorite sports team won? That your boyfriend's dinner gave you food poisoning. Probably not. Hell, how often do I think - wow, you really don't have a life do you? But then again, I'm sure some people say that about my hiking photos, my party pics (that, I admit, look pretty similar every weekend - oh yeah, I'm guilty of frequent photogasms on my profile page), that I became a fan of 'I love Milka' and 'I did not sleep with Tiger Woods'. BUT! As someone dealing with feeling homesick as well as living on her own, social networking sites - and one i