Coconut water = BLISS.

For months my boyfriend has been recommending this specific brand of coconut water, but I hadn't tried it until tonight. Previously, my coconut water experiences were limited to the Naked brand, which was really, really mediocre and turned me off of the stuff completely. Tonight, however, I was at the grocery store down the street and this caught my eye. At $3 a bottle (LAME) I felt stupid buying it, but I'd been reading some really great things about the health benefits of coconut.

Apparently, coconut water does all kinds of good things. You can read about it in depth here, but I'll post my favorite parts for ya'll right here.

1. Lower calories and more nutritious than milk
2. Very high in potassium
3. Extremely high in electrolytes, which makes it perfect to rehydrate while being sick with gastrointestinal issues. Seriously! It seems that coconut water is the healthiest thing to drink next to plain water, but it has so many additional nutrients! It is useful for anyone suffering from vomiting. Excellent to know this.
4. Coconut water is even so awesome that it was actually used in World War II for injured soldiers; coconut water worked as a replacement for plasma! Amazing! You can't do that with orange juice, that's for sure.

I loved my expensive coconut water and I expect that I will soon become obsessed. If I could have my refrigerator stocked with cold water, Synergy kombucha (Cosmic Cranberry or Superfuits, please), and a huge amount of coconut water, I would be very happy and very hydrated and healthy.

DRINK COCONUT WATER! I'm also going to begin incorporating more coconut milk and raw coconut into my diet.

Food poisoning SUCKS... a LOT.

Don't eat at Subway, okay? It made me puke my guts out. It's especially unfortunate because I'm an emetophobe, i.e. I have an irrational fear of vomit/vomiting. That was pretty terrible.

Two bags of I.V. fluid, two shots of Zofran to stop the vomiting, and a restless night of sleep later, here I am... body aching like crazy. FML.

I am so excited for several things. I will list them.

• Valentine's Day with my boyfriend. I hope I'm not setting my expectations too high... (HINT HINT JESS MAKE IT FUN COUGH AHEM)
• Spring training starts soon! Baseball, I've missed you so! My World Series GIANTS!!!! All the pretend Giants fans will hopefully go away soon. It's so stupid seeing people I know acting like such big sports fans. Ha! Liars!
• Having my health fixed... ???
• That's it. I guess I'm not very excited about much after all.

We can't choose our family, but here's who I would add to mine if I could.

Samuel L. Jackson - Uncle

Queen Latifah - Aunt

Morgan Freeman - Great Uncle

Whoopi Goldberg - Aunt

... Is it just me, or is there a pattern here? Is it bad that I wish desperately to be adopted into a black family? I LOVE BLACK PEOPLE. I can't help it. I get it from my dad, who grew up in a predominantly black city and listened to soul music like crazy. So... if you know of anyone who is looking to adopt a pasty Jew into their family, please let me know.

College, college, college... and I have my first blog follower!

The first and most important thing that I must discuss is that someone is finally following my blog! Her name is Chelsea, and she happens to be one of my best friends. Thanks for making me feel somewhat interesting, Chels.

Anyway, I've been thinking a lot about college lately; namely other people's experiences. I still have quite a few friends in community colleges, which makes me look back on my own experiences at one of the local CCs. I hated it. H-A-T-E-D it. At the beginning of my "higher education," I'd started college in August of 2003, when I was still a confused 17-year-old. I had decided on a school called The University of Redlands, located approximately 45 minutes east of Los Angeles. The appeal was a) it was small, b) it was a liberal arts school, and most importantly, c) it wasn't too far from Disneyland. Unfortunately, it was in the Inland Empire, which is a dusty, smoggy, desert that is even worse than LA itself.

Needless to say, I immediately regretted my decision and chose to return home for my Sophomore year. Because my major was undeclared, I had no choice but to go to College of San Mateo (CSM), the closest community college. I'd been there before for various reasons; I'd even taken film classes there during the summer before 7th grade. It didn't seem like it would be terrible.

It was awful. It felt like being back in a public high school, which was one of the last things I could have wanted. I had very few quality teachers, a hell of a time finding parking, and the old buildings had absolutely no air-conditioning. You must understand that CSM is up at a bit of an elevation, and the late-summer heat was awful. There were countless times that I sat in my seat, sweat blurring my vision and my head feeling light, unable to concentrate due to the 90°+ temperature inside the classrooms.

After three semesters at CSM, I transferred to an art school (that would literally accept anyone) out of desperation to make a quick escape from community college. When I hear my friends talk about their schedules, it makes my body tense up even imagining waking up at eight in the freakin' morning to be at class by 9am. There just weren't enough options!

That's all for now. I think I lost steam.

Big Love vs. Small Love

I've been watching a lot of Big Love lately. By "a lot," I mean that I've watched 21 episodes in the past few days. Considering that each episode is approximately 52 minutes long, that means that I've watched about 18.2 hours of the show in less than a week; i.e. I've devoted nearly an entire calendar day to a television program.

I can't explain exactly what makes Big Love so appealing; something about the mixture of polygamy with a mundane suburban lifestyle is absolutely fascinating to me. Like pretty much every ignorant person in the United States, we all think of polygamy as disgusting and weird, and maybe even a little bit perverse. It's STRANGE. Why would any woman willingly marry a man who wants to marry other women? I know that if my boyfriend told me he wanted to "take a second wife" I would slap him across the face (or maybe something a bit less physically violent). I don't know if it's my natural jealousy or if it's perfectly normal to feel this way, but I feel quite entitled to having my boyfriend all to myself. All other females can go cry themselves to sleep, because he is not bringing anyone else into the picture as long as we're together.

Does that sound possessive? Maybe it does, but everyone I know would feel exactly the same in regards to his/her relationship. I don't need to keep tabs on Jess; hell, he can go do whatever he wants, as long as he's being safe and not dating other women. That's the key, you see; not dating other women. I cannot even fathom being comfortable with that thought. I understand that there are all types of relationships, including the polyamorous type. I don't care how people choose to love, but these "Sister Wives" are... well, they're stronger than I am. More confident? Or maybe just stupid? (Sorry for that. I'm trying, trying, trying not to be judgmental!)

Or maybe I watch Big Love because it's entertaining. Plus, just LOOK at Ginnifer Goodwin! She is adorable! I want to pat her on the head! I want to adopt her! Exclamation points!!!

Did YOU get to pet a chicken today?

Today I went to the farm where my friend Emma is currently living/working, which meant that I was able to pet cows, calves, chickens, an amazing dog named Joey (EEHEHEHHEE), and a cat. There were more cats and two pigs, but I didn't pet any of them because I'm stupid. There was also a precious 2-year-old named Hazel who kept asking me to push her on the tire swing. I liked her and wish I could babysit her.

These pictures are of Joey the dog. He is amazing and

followed me around a lot.

I forget his name, but he is cute and drinking milk because he's still a little baby.

It was really interesting to see the lifestyle they live on this farm. They don't sell their milk, but they do some sort of trading with people... or something. I wasn't too clear on it. They have raw milk and make yogurt, ice cream, and butter, as well as making their own kombucha. They also have fresh eggs, which must be pretty convenient. They don't have a television but they do have one computer. Their life revolves around their farm, which is admirable to me because I could NEVER give that sort of dedication; traveling is crucial in my life, and they almost never have time off. Emma said that the 11-year-old boy reads a lot, which is good because most preteens spend their time on the computer and/or playing video games. The lifestyle there seemed so... wholesome. I felt like a stupid "city girl" when I pulled up in the driveway and got out wearing Converse and a skirt. Granted, the skirt was a black raggedy American Apparel thing that I didn't mind getting dirty (which is good, because one of the calves slobbered all over me while trying to eat my hoodie).

I really enjoyed touching the chickens. I think my initial enthusiasm terrified all of them, but I eventually managed to pet a few when Emma showed me how to do it properly. I'd really had no idea just how soft they would be, so it was pleasantly surprising to feel their silky feathers. There was another breed that was really scary looking, and I'm not sure what they're called, but they looked something like this:

Way scarier than that, though. I'm having trouble figuring it out because there are a ton of breeds, apparently... what an interesting experience it was!

My hair would qualify as "BAD HAIR"

My boyfriend has been urging me to watch Good Hair for at least a month, and I finally decided to turn it on. It's a very interesting documentary about African hair in American culture and the options black women have to change its natural feel/texture. Chris Rock does the interviews so the film is pretty funny due to his silly puns, but there's a definite sadness in hearing the stories of some of these women. I personally think natural African hair looks beautiful and has a hell of a lot more character than straight hair, but I can understand why so many black women feel the need/desire to change their hair. After all, every culture does something different, right? Dyeing, bleaching, curling, straightening, braiding, and then there's the topic of white guy dreadlocks (GROSS)... most people change their natural hair in one way or another. I guess the sad part is hearing the black women who say that their natural hair is somehow unacceptable. No hate on my end, as I've done lots of things to my ratty hair, including dyeing it rainbow colors and straightening it semi-regularly. Trust me when I say that I'm frequently annoyed by my curly Jew hair, so I get it. It makes perfect sense.

Anyway, watch this if you get the chance.

Saturdays: A Journey.

Tomorrow, I vow to do the following:

1. Work for several hours before/after babysitting
2. Babysit my old kids for the evening
3. WORK OUT AT HOME WHILE WEARING MY HEART MONITOR

That's about it. I love weekends.

So... my hair can LOOK clean even if it's dirty?

Dry shampoo. What a brilliant, brilliant product indeed! I've been aware of its existence for years, and even purchased a bottle of overpriced junk (above on the left) about a year ago. I never quite understood how to use it (seriously, I know I'm an idiot) but I gave it another go tonight. WOW IT IS PRETTY GREAT YEAH!!! The real downside is that it's aerosol (BAD) and it turns my hair white (BAD), but I'm sure blondes wouldn't have a problem with that. Nor would old people.

I went to the drugstore tonight to pick up more generic diphenhydramine hydrochloride (you may know it as Benadryl) because I can't sleep without it, and I also bought that dry shampoo up there on the right. Apparently it contains CLAY, which is totally awesome. I like clay. And if this makes me bangs look clean even when they're sweaty and disgusting, I am very excited. Interestingly enough, this stuff is probably poison and I'm using it anyway. I don't use shampoo/conditioner/soap/anything with sulfates or parabens (unless it's accidental, which rarely happens), so this is my NaUgHTy*~*~* product. I'm terribly excited about using it.

Additionally, I need money. Give me your money.

Just a little FYI for those of you who suck.

Next time you have to send a greeting card but you're too lazy to actually go buy and mail one, please consider shopping at Hallmark.com. No, I do not work for Hallmark- I'm just enamored with the whole "pick a card, personalize it, address it, and we'll mail it for you" deal, especially because it's cheaper than doing it yourself. With a coupon code, I just mailed two greeting cards for $5.50, including stamps and tax. Uh, HELLO? AWESOME.

This service makes me want to mail things to everyone.

I'm watching "Teen Mom 2" online.

I'm seeing a cardiologist at noon. I haven't been to one since 2006 (???) and I am nervous about looking like that dude in the cartoon. I really, really, really do not like the thought of being hooked up to all sorts of machines. I'M SCARED!!!!!!!!

Hopefully nothing weird will be discovered during the EKG. If so, I'll let ya'll know how long I have to live.

Things that have happened today (i.e. almost nothing).

I saw my old friend Emma a couple of nights ago at our friend's birthday party. I hadn't seen Emma in quite a while, so it was nice to have the opportunity to catch up with her. She's been working/living on a farm up in Petaluma and I had dozens of questions for her; specifically, are there any baby farm animals she can cuddle? When she told me that there are three-month-old piglets I was bursting with joy. Until, that is, she mentioned that they will eventually be slaughtered and eaten. Now, I've been vegetarian since January 1999 (my twelve year anniversary is this month! Hurray!!!), so hearing about this made me slightly queasy. How can you eat your pets? She told me about how they slaughter the chickens, too; they pet them gently and calm them down until they're relaxed and then slice their throats.

Earlier today, I asked my mom to bring home an iced soy latte for me. When she arrived, she sat down with me and I told her about seeing Emma and then decided to tell her all about what Emma had told me about living on the farm. When I casually mentioned the story about the chickens, I looked up to see my mom crying, which made me laugh hysterically. Omnivore's guilt? It was absolutely hilarious. She couldn't stop laughing and crying, which made me explode with laughter. Every single time I would calm down enough to start talking again, there she was, glassy eyes and all. It was pure comedic gold.

Aside from that, today has been a big pile of NOTHING. I think my boyfriend and I have worked out our next travel plans, which will be over Valentine's Day after all. I AM EXCITED YAY!!!!!!

My ideal Valentine's Day.

I am entitled to this pathetic display of corporate-based holiday lust solely given the fact that I have never had a real Valentine's Day. I've had 24 February 14ths in my lifetime, and not one of them has had one shred of romantic value. When I was 16 I was given a heart-shaped cardboard box filled with Jolly Ranchers, courtesy of a freshman who had a crush on me. Flattering? Sure. Embarrassing? HELL YES. It was in the middle of my algebra II class and everyone saw it happen; it was awkward and the silence of my classmates was overwhelming. Despite my crimson face, I couldn't help but feel a burst of excitement that someone had gone out of his way to spend $3 on me.

The only other Valentines I've ever received have been left out on the kitchen counter from my parents. I will even go so far as to admit that they leave a card for me "from" my cat, which is funny and never gets old. And as hilarious as it may be, I'm finally yearning for a "real" Valentine's Day, complete with all of the crap that usually makes me want to barf. Why doesn't the world partake in the whole everyone gives everyone they know a Snoopy Valentine with perforated edges stuck into a tiny novelty envelope and maybe a piece of chocolate wrapped in pink and red foil? Wasn't that nice? I always enjoyed decorating my shoebox for Valentine's Day; the best part was seeing your classmates stuff things into that little slot (shhh).

These days I am 25-years-old and nobody does that sort of thing, most unfortunately. At this age, everyone has a boyfriend or girlfriend (or both... I'm not judging) to supply the sappy Valentine's Day crap. Now I have a boyfriend of my very own; as I recall, one who isn't particularly keen on the Hallmark holiday paraphernalia, but I'm still hoping he will indulge me so I can at least have one romantic holiday in my life. Just one.

This is how I envision the day...

We wake up in our economy motel room in Anaheim. He lets me sleep in; I am awoken to a kiss and a card. We get dressed (in cute clothing, of course; I'd be wearing a casual red dress) and head out to Disneyland, where we enter the park holding hands. We sit down at the Carnation Cafe for a breakfast of croissants and hot chocolate, and then begin our stroll through the park. He can't resist buying me a stuffed animal, which I accept with a shy smile and hug to my chest. We go on all of my favorite rides, all the while cuddling and kissing throughout the day. As the sun begins to set, we leave the park for our romantic dinner reservation. We drink glasses of red wine over a nice dinner and gaze into one another's eyes. We head back to the park for fireworks, and he buys me a silver ring from one of the shops along Main Street; he slides it into my finger and he kisses my forehead.

That's as far as I've gotten, because it's too unrealistic to continue my fantasy. Aside from that, my cat is meowing incessantly and it is hurting my brain.

And on another note...

I wish I had lots of money so I could buy lots of things, such as...

If you feel so inclined, the link to my wishlist is on your right ; )

Yet another post at 2-something a.m.

I'm currently reminiscing about the fun times I had with the kids at my last nanny job. I really miss the girls a whole lot, since they spent the most time with me; they're incredibly bright, talented kids with very bright futures. I was the one to quit, and I did it for a lot of reasons. Being a nanny makes it hard to travel because the family depends on you (as they should), and given that I was trying to get through the last month of school made everything extra stressful for me. On my last day, the 8-year-old (Isabel) sat on my lap and hugged me, which nearly drove me to tears in front of her (I managed to hold back my pitiful whimpering until I was driving away).

It's hard to be a big part of someone's life and then cut off contact so abruptly. The guilt that I felt made it ridiculously hard for me to leave them, but it would have been selfish to stay. I have too much going on to commit to a family anymore. It's sad. I was a nanny for four years and it helped me grow up a lot, while retaining playfulness and a sense of humor. All three kids taught me a lot about... well, everything. I feel sad right now. I think I'll contact my ex-boss tomorrow (i.e. today) when I wake up and ask about taking out the kids (although I doubt the 12-year-old boy will want to come with us... he's much too grown up... ha!). I would really hate if I never got to see them again.

This may possibly be the most sentimental I'll get on here. I'm feeling glum because I still don't know when I'll next see my boyfriend.

"Reflections" (a song by Christina Aguilera, heard in the film 'Mulan')

Just kidding, Christina Aguilera has nothing to do with my blog post. Tricked you, didn't I?! Ha! I'm good, I really, really am. Wowee.

I think about my life quite a bit at night; by night, I mean 2am or later. I reflect on things that have happened throughout my twenty-five long years on the planet, thinking about the way things once were at various ages. There are many events that have shaped my being, as cliché as that sounds. I could really get into the details here and spend a good hour mapping out entire memories, but a) that would take a long time, b) some of those memories are unpleasant, and c) nobody wants to read it. That's understandable, because I'm not a very good storyteller, which is just a fact. That's fine with me.

The memory that has been swirling around in my mind (swirling? swishing? spinning tumbling?) took place when I was a mere twelve years of age, i.e. I was impressionable, awkward, and completely pathetic. As I mentioned above, I'm not going to write out the event or even bother talking much about it at all; I just wanted to talk about talking about it to make you curious.

Not really.

I think the only thing truly lacking in my life is a friend with whom I can do crossword puzzles while nursing a cup of coffee (or, in my case, gulping down a huge iced soy latte within a few minutes). Just imagine my friend and I looking sophisticated and intellectual, glasses on and deep in thought.

(please try to ignore the watermark on this photo, as it's not mine and ideally, I will never wear reading glasses.)

There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. I've changed subjects several times and left you with nothing but annoyance with yours truly. If you feel so inclined, send me a gift card for Peet's coffee and a book of crossword puzzles. A snazzy mechanical pencil would be appreciated, as well as any/all of your hard-earned cash. Thank you.

How?

How is it possible for humans over the age of 13 to have trouble differentiating between your, you're, they're, their, and there? Where on earth were all of these people during... oh, I don't know, EVERY ENGLISH CLASS EVER TAKEN DURING ELEMENTARY AND MIDDLE SCHOOL? And what about "Heather and me went to the party" or "Nobody wanted to talk to Heather and I." Really? You really can't see the difference?

Typos are more understandable; everyone is allowed to type poorly when drunk, so I'll let that slide, because I'll just assume that everybody is drunk all the time. Anyhow, there is a grammar demon clawing at my insides, and I get it from my mother, unfortunately. You should see us watch television; we always comment on poor grammar at the same time. I can hear it from across the room, regardless of whether or not I was paying attention to the program in the first place.

For the love of all that is good and holy, please learn these basic grammatical rules. They are so ridiculously simple, and for the sake of retaining my sanity I refuse to believe that so many people are really that stupid. This is in no way a shout-out to myself for being a genius, as I would likely test at an intelligence level only slightly higher than "complete moron." I'm tired, as it's past 3am, and this is the perfect outlet for the grammar nazi inside of me (plus, I don't want to directly hurt anyone's feelings).

And, uh, please don't be offended if you're one of the dolts to whom I'm referring. I'm sure you're a really nice person with other special talents.

Here is something I made a few months ago.

Hello, 2:10am. So we meet again.

I went to see an eye doctor today, which made me nervous because they blow air directly into your eyeball and it's terrifying. I survived and left with a copy of my prescription; I promptly came home and began the hunt for cheap prescription glasses. My last pair of glasses (which are lost and I am heartbroken) were $500. I wish I was joking. This time, I went a little bit more casual, and purchased three pairs of glasses for around fifty bucks. SERIOUSLY. The best part is that they're all ridiculous looking and I have no clue what I'll look like while wearing them.

"Resolutions" (GOALS)

I'm not a fan of New Year's resolutions, because how often does anyone really take them seriously for more than a few weeks? I think New Year's GOALS are more appropriate for me, so I won't feel discouraged if I screw up a little bit. Normally I would update my Day Zero Project list, but the site has been down for a while and I don't want to forget any of this before the site works again. That being said, here are quite a few more goals to add to my list.

1. Limit the amount of money I spend on eating outside of the house, which is usually a LOT. Try to eat out 1x per week, maximum. I know that sounds sort of strict, but I'm not doing well financially, and restaurants drain my bank account!
2. Limit the amount of money I spend on buying coffee outside of the house! No more than $10 per week on coffee! Ideally, it will get to the point that I can brew all of my own coffee, but realistically, I'm sure I will want the occasional coffee drink while I'm already out.
3. Keep my receipts for everything. Track how my money is spent and where it's going! Starting today, I will keep note of what I spend, including printing receipts for things purchased online.
4. Try to read at least one new book per month. That sounds pathetic, but I haven't been reading enough, and that goal sounds realistic.
5. Work five hours each day Monday through Friday. 25 hours per week will leave me with a decent enough paycheck (for the time being).
6. Make appointments with all of the doctors I need to see (there are a LOT). This is another way of reminding myself to take my health much more seriously this year. My heart, knees, and teeth all need some attention.
7. Take my vegan diet more seriously. I became vegan four years ago for a reason, and I want to start fresh with a new perspective. No more vegan "substitutes" (i.e. baked goods, soy products made to look like meat, cheese, etc). Those are just as unhealthy as their dairy-counterparts.
8. Make more of an effort with my friendships, despite how tired I feel (which really held me back in 2010).
9. TRY to normalize my sleep schedule as much as possible. I will never be an early riser, and I am fine with that. However, waking up at noon is totally unhealthy, and I would like to try to wake up sometime before 12pm daily. Easier said than done when your bedtime is four or 5am.

That's what I have so far, and I'm going to do my best to take those goals seriously. It's going to be very important for me to stop seeing everything in black and white, because that is what always causes me to lose sight of my goals.

Happy 2011?

To be perfectly honest, I don't know if I'm addressing that to anyone, considering that nobody has started reading this blog... yet. KEYWORD "YET."

Anyway, Happy New Year. I am currently trying to sustain my coffee buzz that is rapidly fading; why, oh, why does it happen so quickly?! I'm definitely going to perfect my coffee brewing skills this year, which includes finding the perfect roast. Peet's Italian Roast is "eh" when I brew it, so I am determined to discover a PERFECT roast. I also want to master the art of the French press, because as of this moment those things confuse me terribly. HOW DO THEY WORK?!?

Here's to a year of coffee, travel, being a college graduate at last, and most importantly, seeing my boyfriend as much as possible!