Posts Under: DIARY

DIARY

What To Do During A Power Outage (In Los Angeles)

When the power goes out on the East Coast, everybody rolls their eyes and gets Chinese takeout and goes out to a bar or to bed. When the power goes out on the West Coast, there is widespread panic and people floating down streets in duck rafts. Having been suddenly detached from social media and television and PerezHilton.com, Los Angelenos sit paralyzed in the center of their darkened living room floors, asking themselves life's greatest question:

...What do I do now?

Last night, as you know if you follow me on Snapchat or IG stories, our power went out, along with the power of...ohhhhh....everybody in LA, apparently.

DIARY

Come Together (Right Now)

A few days ago, I posted on Facebook about Donald Trump, terrible person, et cetera ad infinitum. In response, someone commented essentially telling me to shut up and go back to talking about clothing. And then she unfollowed me, thereby pretty effectively achieving her goal of not having to hear me anymore.

It bothered me. Not because she's not entitled to her opinion, but because it's this unwillingness to even listen for a moment to those who disagree with you, that - to me - lies at the root of the crossroads at which we find ourselves. We're talking and talking and talking without ever taking a moment to listen. We're lobbing arguments at each other, barely even reading or hearing the response before shouting back. We're unfollowing each other.

I am very much aware that not everybody who reads here is liberal, or anti-Trump. I try to be sensitive to that, while still expressing my beliefs. I thank those of you who disagree with my politics and continue reading here nonetheless. I want you to know that I'd like to hear from you more.

DIARY

The Very Worst Party In The World

Ummm excuse me, do I have the right house?

A quick preamble: In yesterday's post on female friendship, I alluded to a minor incident that happened around the time I met Francesca involving her saving me from a rampaging, tequilaed-up blonde Texan wearing a pirate outfit. I wasn't going to post the story itself because it's apparently Francesca Week on Ramshackle Glam and I didn't want to be redundant, but...what the hell. It's such a good story.

Everything that you're about to read really happened. (Some names have been changed to protect the stone-cold crazy.)

DIARY

Piece Of My Heart: Friendship, Sisterhood, and The Family You Find

For years, I had this fantasy in my head: my mom would have a best friend with a daughter exactly my age, and we'd become best friends, too. We'd talk on the phone for hours, write each other letters over the summers, and one day maybe even go to the same college because we felt stronger when we were together. We'd consider each other sisters, because that's exactly what we would be.

I never did have a friend like that. In elementary and middle school, I cycled through a series of "best friends," with most relationships lasting a year, maybe two, before preteen dramas got in the way and alliances shifted. In high school, my best friends were a group of girls who I was never sure actually liked me very much; they'd tease me - the ditzy, silly sidekick - and I'd laugh, because I knew I was easy to make fun of and laughing along felt better. I had a constant sense of "tagging along," of hoping one of them would choose me to like the best.

I thought maybe that was just life, that perhaps who I naturally was (a person who often said the wrong thing, who turned red at the slightest provocation, who was utterly incapable of acting cool) just wasn't the kind of person who attracted long-lasting, deeply loving friendships. And so I decided to make my boyfriend - and then the next boyfriend, and the one after that - my best friend. I sought out relationships that weren't just "intense"; they were all-consuming. Finally, I had a person - and then another, and another after that - with whom I felt completely and totally comfortable. Except then we'd break up, and I'd have to start all over again.