How 1 Sentence Can Mean So Much:

 

A Silence so deafening, I can barely stand it... 

Words: 1 Fine Example

So be it:

hit me across the head with a crowbar
if that is all I am good for so far.
At least until you get out of this Mess.

And I will pretend
that I don't know of your Sins.
- until you are ready to confess them.
But all the time.
All this time:
I'll know.

And you could use this skin
to bury secrets in.
For I know how to settle you down.

And at my own suggestion:
I won't ask no questions.
I'll just do my thing in the background.
But all the time.
All this time:
I'll know.

Baby, we can't grow while she is still around...

So.
For the time being
I'm being:
patient.

And amidst this bitterness
if you'll just consider this -
even if I don't always make sense
all the time.
Well, damn - give it time.

For when the crowd and ghosts become your burden
and you've early closed your red curtain
I'll be waiting by the backstage door...

And while you try to find
the lines to speak your mind
and pry it open in hopes of an encore
- just remember it may get too late,
for me to wait
for you to find you really love me
and to be able to mean it so.

Hell.
It's okay.
No need to say it.
I'll know....

Love Words

Yes, we learn to read. (all sorts of things)
Yes, we like to listen to songs. (some of us are even talented enough to sing them).
Yes, some of us can even read and sing in....more than 1 language. (I am totally down with that).

So what is the common denominator in all this?!

Words.

It's the words, my dears, that move me.

In songs I am a lyric person.
I love poetry.
If I come across a phrase (no matter how small) that moves me, I jot it down in my planner.
While reading books I am known to underline passages that signify something to me - good or bad.
Since 14, I have been writing my thoughts down - that is 20 years of a lot of things in Elsa's head.

One of my greatest Loves in life will always be: WORDS.
One constant in my Life - for there are few, kids - will always be: WORDS.

I love the art of being able to make a reader feel - good, passion, bad, laughter, exciting, love, sadness, anger, depression - through words.

I am known to well-up mid-song at the piano, unable to continue on because the lyrics move me too much and I have a lump in my throat.

I've also been known to esteem certain men's words so much that I fall in Love.

It is my perogative that I highly regard writers above our President.

It's all for me: I don't expect anyone to get it.

Happiness is...80s Music!!

Now, I am not referring to the clothing (good lord, shoulder pads and big hair) but the MUSIC of that "most-awesome, gnarly and radical" decade! Nor am I referring to 80s pop or heavy metal but mostly to the English Invasion also known as "New Wave" music. Can you imagine going through puberty with the likes of such so-delicious-that-yes-they-can-also-wear-makeup glorious leading men such as David Bowie, Martin Fry from ABC, George Michael from Wham! (before he "came out" 2 decades later), Spandau Ballet, A-HA, U-2, Depeche Mode, New Order - shoot maybe I am so accepting of gays because I even enjoyed Culture Clash and Boy George!!!

Ahh, the 80s - back when music was fun and hell: had a melody....

But nothing, nada, NOTHING can compare to one of the biggest and most dominating groups of that decade: none other than my beloved Duran Duran. Led by the absolutely charismatic and gorgeous playboy Simon Le Bon (I mean: could he have been ANYTHING else with that name???) me and my sisters joined a gazillion other girls (and boys) around the world in becoming utter fanatics of the "Fab 5". With their colorful, sexy videos shot in exotic locations Duran Duran's popularity soared with the parallel popularity of the new music video channel MTV that showcased them. Yes, everyone: these 5 musicians were utter sex symbols - even if they did wear rouge, lipstick and impossible haircuts. Going to their concert will forever remain a highlight of my teenage years...

More 80s goodness: Some of you readers may actually remember the thrill of anticipating a new LP (album), reading its lyrics, liner notes, thank-yous, and breathlessly pouring over every inch of the album cover art or picture. Downloading music and Ipods nowadays just does not compare.

And lastly, to this day I still love dancing the "skank" 80s dance move that embarrasses Patrick and other friends when I dance it in public. But nothing will ever stop my love for 80s music!! If any of you are feeling this blog entry might I recommend Thursday 80s Night at Shooters in North Park?!! It's a blast from the past!!
Click here for one of my favorite DD videos of all time!!!

Happiness is....Jordy-the-Cat

 
If I hadn't met Patrick I definitely would have been one of those crazy spinster cat ladies.
My gato is named Jordy - after Jordy La Forge (yes, the black blind guy in Star Trek Next Generation - you nerds). My sister, Sara, uber Trekkie, gave him that name as she was the one who rescued him as a kitten from the pound over 5 years ago. Unfortunately her German uber tomcats were beating up poor baby Jordy so she gave him to me.

He since has become as crazy and loving as his momma. Surviving several moves within Hillcrest area, breakups, crazy friends, even crazier house parties, and a neighbor pushing his PSYCHO mean purebred cat to move in with us cus he couldn't take it anymore - Jordy has remained at my side, (or under my bed since he's a little skittish around everyone else). We have our own language - short, clipped 'fay' meows. He also brilliantly is trilingual - understanding english, spanish and italian commands. He jumps on the piano when I sing and play. He likes to be spooned at night (keeps me warm during winter since I don't have money to put on the heater) and he supports me 100% - when my weight fluctuates, so does his. I love coming home to him and hearing his nails click on the hardwood floor as he runs to greet me. He, like all pets, loves unconditionally. It truly is amazing. Jordy is one of my happiness' in life. :)

Happiness Is...

Are you all familiar with the term, "simple pleasures"?

I love that phrase. It describes me to a T. I am the kind of gal whose happiness has always relied on the simplest, most unmaterialistic kinds of things. And let me tell you: happiness has been a struggle my whole life with the kind of wiring I have in my head. But that said: it's not gifts, nor Jimmy Choos, nor Louis Vuitton bags that make me happy. It's truly the little things that count. And I think I will post some of them here.

Why?

Because it makes me happy! :)

The Araiza Nose

The other day I caught Patrick staring at me intently. Now, thinking (since he is in love with me and all), that he was simply admiring and dreamily staring at the woman of his affections: I coyly asked, "What is it?"

"Did you get a nose-job?" was his gallant reply.

**(Sound of needle scratching a record.)**

"WHATTTTT???!!" I demanded with my love and affection quickly disappearing and replaced by an overwhelming feeling of self-consciousness.

"You have a bump on your nose," my grand Love, my heart's Dreamboat replied.

"For your information, you are referring to my Basque nose that all of us got from my mom's side of the family: the Araizas."

I was sweating. I was offended. I was shocked: How could he NOT see how beautiful and full of character my nose was??? Didn't he know how all us Araizas have been teased about it over the years?? I used to suffer over my nose until I started modeling years ago and clients LOVED it. Gay clients even. Stating it was 'refined', 'classic', 'ethnic'. It totally puts my facial features out of proportion and I LOVE it!!!

"My Darling," I pointed out demurely to Patrick, "One does not get a nose-job to HAVE a bump on the bridge of their nose, but to get rid of one..."

Today I fell in love with you again...

At your 'best and strongest'
I realized that I loved you
even more than I thought I did...

For everything that you are to me, thank you.

What DIDN'T happen in Vegas, Stays in Vegas

DISCLAIMER - While I am enjoying my weekend and getting my creative juices flowing I am posting an old blog story I guest-blogged on teawithlemon blog back in 2005. I know, I know: shame on me! But I promise there will be more recent elsa-goodies later! :)

For those of you working conventional jobs this might be of some amusement. I work several different jobs: as many artsy people do. This one was definitely different and I booked it through my friend, Stefanie's agency. In May 2005 after a very difficult interview and poloraid taken at a downtown club (hehehe) I was invited to fly out with 27 other San Diegan beauties (well, party girls anyway) by the LightGroup - an organization of the Bellagio Hotel in Las Vegas.

Even at the audition I never really understood why we were being chosen to go to a free trip to Vegas and I must admit our agency owner never really made it clear herself. That said: it was a free trip there and Stefanie, Rachel and Brigetta were not going to let my goody goody status (I don't even LIKE Vegas) stop me from joining them on a night out.

We were all given free airline ticket, luxurious rooms, VIP treatment, dinner and paraded in the dinner club Fix, Carmel Bar Lounge and Light Club - all in the Bellagio Hotel. We were informed this was for 'networking' with execs and VIPS of the hotel... yeah, right. I suppose the 21 year old Charger girls with us believed that one. We were more like high class prostitutes – corralled into waiting bins like sheep, plied with judgment-debilitating liquor (I stopped at 1.5 mojitos and faked along with recently pregnant Rachel a vodka tonic for the rest of the night with tonic water and lime).

We were literally handpicked by some older (undoubtedly married) rich men who would stare at us and tell our ‘handlers’ (or pimps) which one of us was to be taken to their table for chit-chat and drinks. Stefanie was highly regarded by a trainer of the Pistons and I was dazzling in my Vanessa Rosas designer gown so I was chosen as well (what can I say - most of the girls were 10 years younger than us - how good could their conversing skills be with married, rich men??). Fortunately, Stef and I have much experience working parties and events and know the fine line of doing our job: feeding egos and making pleasant conversation without compromising our morals. It was a whirlwind trip (literally less than 24 hours in Vegas) and I am still not sure it was worth it. I didn't get a single 'networking' gig out of it - but the pineapple mojitos were simply FABULOUS!!

lasvegas05

click on photo for more pictures!

The Incan Trail

On our 3rd day in Peru Patrick and I were to awake early in order to be picked up by our tour and the rest of our fellow hikers to begin the 3.5 luxury bus-drive to the beginning of the Incan Trail. After having asked Patrick the night before to make sure (you can all see where I am going with this) that his alarm was set for 4:20am (they were coming at 5) I opened my eyes the next morning to.....daylight. Not full-on sunshine, but that said I knew it was a lot lighter than it should have been at, oh say 4:20!!! "Patrick...?" I woke him up, "What time is it???" "Curses!!" (Well, he didn't say that but he DID curse). Both of us jumped up to see it was indeed about 5 minutes till 5! Fabulous. Good one, Patrick. If I hadn't woken up myself who knows what would have happened.

After the morning drama of us getting our stuff together and downstairs (while trying to grab some of the free daily breakfast buffet that the hotel offered), we finally set off on the road to get to the Incan Trail. Andean Life was our tour and they ended up being even better than expected for the mid-range tour price - about $300 per person which included 4-days camping/hiking, our english-speaking Quechan guide, Romelo; 10 porters carrying the food, cooking equipment and tents and our fellow troop which consisted of 2 aussies, 3 brits, 1 german and us.I was most pleased with our WONDERFUL porters and our troop couldn't have been any cooler than the hip, game 20-somethings (I was in my element being with a bunch of foreigners). Meals were full of laughter and stories from everyone as we fortunately all truly got along very well. Our porters took great care of us: the food (from our 23 year old cook) was AMAZING: several courses made at each meal and TONS of it. Not to mention afternoon tea with bisquits (cookies) and popcorn (the Brits loved that special touch). We couldn't believe what could be made in that little cooking tent they would pitch next to our dining tent. Plus, they would do that on top of having trotted (that is: slowly jogged) past us bent over double on the way to the next plain packed up 3 feet high with bulky tents and such. We were amazed at their calves and the fact that these tiny indians (ranging in age from 18-46) had such strength. I hated that they essentially were pack mules - but the fact was that it is a high paying job for them and we made sure to tip them very generously on top of that. Like I mentioned previously: traveling in Peru is cheap, so I could be generous.In continuation, the porters would pass our hard-working selves on the trail and pitch our camp, make our meal and all the time - be it, day or night: take turns having one of them posted as guard by our sleeping tents (as bandits have been known to rob hikers). They really were remarkable and I understood from other hikers that they were not as pleased with their tours: leaky tents, not good food or attention paid. When our 2 British gals were put in an awkward situation with a rude porter from one of the other tours at one of the pit stops it was OUR porters who sought him out, surrounded him and confronted him (getting him fired from his good-paying job).

The Incan Trail, itself, is not a hike for the wimpy, out of shape, or prissy. It can be tough if you are over 30. One must be ready for anything regarding the weather changing in a snap from a downpour (pulling on the rain poncho), to cold, to foggy ("don't fall off the cliff", our guide warned), to HOT. You pretty much always use the bathroom in the Great Outdoors (although there are a couple "toilets" on the route - holes in the ground with a door), you don't shower for days, you wear the same clothes pretty much since you can't afford to carry more than 1 change of clothes, and you sleep cold nights on the ground in tents.

That said I HIGHLY recommend tackling the adventure. Mother Nature is absolutely splendid in her various forms there: you hike through plains, to steep summits, valleys, jungles, rain forests, rocks, cloud forests, the River Urubamba running below... and the final destination of the mighty ruins of Machu Pichu are absolutely breath-taking! (Just remember that no matter how young and in shape you are - you WILL need a hiking stick). And after 4 days when we did finally reach Machu Pichu, I felt a lump in my throat (akin to when I passed the finish line of my 1st half-marathon at 30 years of age) of pride that we made it. An old running injury definitely made the going slow and quite painful at times, with everyone suffering on the 2nd day (the hardest hike - with 2 very steep climbs and very steep descents - muy painful on the knees). It was as Patrick commented as we admired the amazing ruins along with the other 100s of tourists who took a bus there - "We REALLY earned it!"
**click on picture below to see photo album!!

The Incan Trail 10.06