Disney Differences

Sarita was getting some details confused with the two Disney classics Sleeping Beauty and Snow White. The following is an excerpt from the resolving conversation:

N: Sleeping Beauty has three witches and Snow White has seven dwarfs, they both have evil queens and princes. 

S: So Sleeping Beauty and Snow White both have fake things helping them.

N: Let's just be honest here, witches are fake, but I'm pretty sure dwarfs are real.

S: I guess.

Horrible Sorabol

Sorabol is the reason I decide on eating the same things all the time. 

A few days ago, Pirate Sarita and I decided to try out a place we've never seen in the Glendale Galleria. I believe the interaction went as so, "How come we've never eaten here before?" "I don't know, we should try it on our way out." It was as if the Food Gods were shitting above us, shining a light on the worst possible place to consume what Sorabol calls food.

Hoping we had stumbled upon a Panda Express type restaurant, we decide to share a combo plate, which by the price listing sounded reasonably cheep, and you know how hard it is for a Pirate to resist a deal! We choose the 2 meat entree, which came with your choice of white or brown rice, or glass noodles. Oh, glass noodles, yes please! 

The meat selection was dismal. There was Lemon Chicken, which we sampled upon entering, and the other questionable choices included some beef that looked like cat diarrhea, another beef dish that also resembled cat diarrhea, and a single piece of dried up fish that was topped with a sauce that resembled cat diarrhea.  But wait, light at the end of the tunnel, potstickers! So we went with the glass noodles, lemon chicken and potstickers. 

"What is your 2nd meat choice?" asked the surly lady behind the sneeze guard. 

"Potsitckers," we replied.

"No, those are extra 89 cents."

What? This is clearly not Panda Express.

After annoying us with the food selection, we just folded and asked for 2 potstickers on the side and a drink to share. 

"$11.75," she says.

WTF@%&^(*)(&)(^*%&WTF? 

We paid the lady the money, but only after sizable amount of bitching, and proceeded to our table. I could feel her eye-daggers as we ate the disappointing meal. 

Glass Noodles tasted like plastic. Lemon Chicken was tasteless. Strange vegetables pickled in a stranger sauce. Potstickers were pretty good. In true Sara and Sara2 fashion (that ones for you, Pete) we complained all the way out of the restaurant, all the way to the car and all the way home. Clearly I'm still upset by the situation because I'm complain typing about it days after the fact. 

Never eat at Sorabol. Never ever. It's awful and disgusting and I refuse to be elegant about the way I describe it. No frilly language or funny jokes, this place SUCKS! It deserves all caps, an overused teenage complaint word and an exclamation mark. SUCKS!

I've said my piece. 

Motivation is a Bitch with a Friend Called Focus

I've always felt I was a focused person, but the older I've grown I've come to realize that's not the case at all. For example, I'd say I was focused when it came to theatre, but that wasn't necessarily true, for I was more all over the place doing everything theatre related, i.e. costumes, directing, acting, improv, you name it. And even if you do call that focused, I often ditched the majority of my classes to do theatre work, counterproductive, wouldn't you say? 

I'm an easily distracted person, I'm not talking shiny objects or flashes of light, but more(and here's the lack of focus talking) I'm easily interested in constantly changing. How did I once put it to my good friend Christina? "You change your career goals like you wake up and choose what kind of underwear to put on in the morning." Perhaps that's why we get along so well. I believe it's the same for her as it is for me, there are just too many things I want to do, but I can't seem to choose the one to focus on. I also believe, for me, I CAN focus, but I lack the motivation for the follow through. Is it I'm afraid to fail? Is it I know others want it more than me? Whatever the psycho-babble tells me, I realized this morning, as I climbed into my Gymboree battle wear that I need to focus. 

"Wake up!" my brain yelled. "Drink us some coffee and get a move on!" And so I did. 

There is a road, it way not be the one less traveled on, or any other cliche flowery literary reference, but it is a statement made about underwear that gets my ass in gear. 

How appropriate.

Terrible Idea

I tend to start some things, okay, A LOT of things and never finish them. Well, maybe that's not necessarily true, I'm fairly good at the follow through once I have begun actually working on something. But when it comes to the process, the conception of a new thing, it pretty much ends after the main thought. For example, going to cosmetology school to become a hair stylist. Yeah,  that idea lasted maybe a month, I never applied, never got any gear whatsoever in motion. Just another spider hatching it's idea baby in my brain. Or what about getting my masters in theatre arts, becoming a teacher, writing a book, working out, getting more organized. I can, with all confidence say I have not completed any of the above. 

I've decided to hold off on being a teacher for a while. Maybe a long while. I'm not ready. I'm not ready to pack up my freedom, strap on my fannypack and call it a day. I want more, I want to be a twenty-something with no cares, living just to live. I'm afraid that in this day, that's not possible. Especially in LA, where everything cost more money than I make, and what I make cost me more time than I'm willing to spend. But if I don't try now, it's gone. Youth, choices, being just me.

Perhaps this is one of those things I start and never finish. Whatever it may end up being, it's here, and so am I.