...and here's why you can't get mad...

I'm always late. That's a given. If you hangout with me once you'll notice it, twice you'll know it.

In addition to this I tend to be hard to book. There is a reason for this and it's closely related to the above point. Given this I like to set plans loosely, especially if I know it's a bar hopping evening or I have a dinner commitment with good convo people etc. If I say "let's meet up for drinks tonight" and I know I'm going to be with other people or have an earlier commitment I will leave it at that: "let's meet up for drinks tonight". I might say "I'll call you after dinner" or "I should be there around 9pm, but I'll let you know" or "I'll give you an eta closer to ___pm (insert time here)". But I have found it's best never to give an eta if it's for a casual1 event and I'm doing something before, as chances are I'll be an hour later than my promised eta.

For example, last night I had a work dinner that started at 7:30pm. I expected it would be done within 2 hours. Not sticking to my rule because a reservation had been made, I said I would be somewhere around 9ish. I wasn't, as dinner was not done until 11pm. When I finally looked at my phone, once the bill had been paid, I had 6 text messages and 2 missed calls from a bunch of people I had said I wanted to "meet up for drinks" with. 2

I understand and notice that for some this is frustrating ("why can't you just commit?!", "yeah, Jasmine's always late" or "damn you're annoying when trying to schedule something...") but it's who I am

and here's why you can't get mad...

When I'm with people I'm truly with them. I live in the moment and make an effort to be present at all times. If you've hungout with me at any point in the last 4 years I think you would be hard pressed to find a moment I spent with you where you could tell I would rather be somewhere else. I never look at my phone when at dinner, I don't rush from one casual social event to get to another, I don't wear a watch, and if we're talking, I try to listen to every word and not be off in my own head. Now of course I don't achieve this all the time (I'm not perfect) but I try and it's because of this effort that the times I spend with people are most often not defined by the clock but rather when the interaction feels complete.

So, even though I'm late a lot and have a hard time committing ahead of time, you can know that when I'm with you, I'm with you and I will have a good time and enjoy your presence...(and of course this is up to you) but I would hope this would tip the scales in my favor in spite of my tardy shortcomings.


1) Please note, when I say casual I am normally referring to something where lots of people are involved and my not being there at a specific time does not affect whether people enjoy themselves or not.
2) All of the calls were just people checking in and seeing what my deal was because, well, they know me.

OMG I'm a f**king HIPSTER!

Since when am I a f**king hipster?! I'm absolutely shocked yet at the same time suddenly feel the urge to buy a bike.

While planning the holiday campaign for Old Navy I decided I'd play around for a minute on one of the sites we RFP'd. While there I took one of their personality quizzes which helps define the type of person you're shopping for and suggests gifts. I decided I would be shopping for myself and see what the quiz thought I'd like.

After answering a series of questions it ends up I'm a freakin' hipster. I am a little discouraged to say the least. When did I suddenly develop an interest in spiking my hair, wearing chucks (all the time) and participating in critical mass? (hipster nerds... *shakes her head*).


I know I have some hipster inclinations:

• I sometimes where chucks
• I like Zeitgeist on sunny days
• I used to roll one pant leg when I was in high school...for about a week
• I have owned a bike
  
• I once tried to wear glasses instead of contacts
• I have an iPhone
• I work in interactive advertising in San Francisco
• Katie often makes me listen to indie rock
  
• I use to travel around with my family and sing in different churches on Sundays...kinda like a band
• I want a tattoo
• I'm going to a neon party on Saturday night

I don't know though, somehow I still feel screwed over by this quiz. Some of the questions really weren't an easy answer.

For example:

Um if you know me, you know I like both.

Um neither...and who is this gang??...

Everyone knows the farmer's market starts too early for me to roll my ass out of bed...and who the hell are these kids?!...

So what? non-hipsters don't like to read? And what if there isn't a lake with rocks nearby to climb on huh?!

Totally rigged. So now because of the lack of imagination from Gifts.com, I'm a hipster. Apparently I'm going to have to get a lock necklace now... SoaB!!

Are you kidding me?!

So this weekend I went for a weekend of spaing at The Fairmont's Sonoma Mission Inn & Spa. I of course have one of my wonderful publishers to thank for the weekend as I never could have afforded it myself (one of the many perks of working in media).

We arrived on Friday night and had dinner with our west coast reps and the rest of the guests. Erica (my old boss & now good friend) & I turned in early as we both saw the weekend as a chance to relax for once since we were away from the hustle&bustle that is our lives in San Francisco. The next day we had our day at the spa. I got myself a mud wrap which I have always wanted to try. The treatment consisted of a mud wrap for 40 mins, then a hot bubble bath and finally a 30 minute massage. I can definitely understand the concept of spaing but honestly I didn't feel much different afterwards...at least not $200 worth of relaxed. Now that could be because spaing for a day can't reverse the effects of 6 months of drinking, long work hours and post-midnight bedtimes. It could also be because I spent my hour and a half talking politics with my massuse (I have a problem with the whole idea of "relaxing" when someone else is either lurking in the room or rubbing my leg). In spite of not feeling as relaxed as those who seemed drunk when they exited their rooms, it was a nice experience.

The rest of the afternoon Erica & I enjoyed the spas, saunas and pools the resort offered. While tanning by the pool we decided to grab some snacks and I developed a mad craving for a pina colada. Unfortunately the spa cafe only offered beer and wine, so my only option through which to obtain a pina colada was to order it via room service and have it delivered to the pool. Even though the receptionist told me there was a chance delivery could take "up to 45 minutes" I figured it was worth it seeing a wheat grass shake probably wouldn't kick the craving.

40 minutes later my pina colada arrived. The server handed me the check and I almost choked on the french fry I was chewing when I opened the book. I quickly signed and handed it back trying not to show my astonishment and hoping that he would exit stage left quickly after flashing his resort-style smile. Once gone I looked at Erica, "Guess how much...". She actually guessed right. Can you?


Nevermind, I'll just show you...



I mean, seriously??! Do you see all those freakin' fees? And then 20% gratuity? I will say the pina colada was the best I've had, but it's wasn't $18 worth of good. Lordy. I just don't get why everything has to be so expensive when you're at an expensive hotel. I mean I understand high priced rooms but why does everything else have to cost double? It's like if you're rich you're supposed to be okay with getting hosed. It's like just because you have a lot of money in your bank account you shouldn't care that you're getting charged $10 for a piece of toast.

Someday I want to be able to afford as many $18 pina coladas as I like, but I don't want to find myself thinking it's okay to charge $18 for it. It's not. It's ridiculous. As much as I love the spa and the luxury of 5 star resorts, and as much as I know I have the desire to live like the "rich and famous", I don't want to end up with the mentality of the "rich and famous". Unfortunately if I accomplish this I will be adorned with that oh so famous title often tossed around by skilled staff in the backrooms of all high-end resorts: "cheapskate". The exact term which probably popped into the mind of the server when he saw my face as I read the bill and when he noticed I hadn't tipped anything above the 20% that had already been included.



But man was that pina colada good...

My "Reason for the Rainbow" Mission

What's with bus seats that have rainbow patterns? It's not bad enough that you're stuck like cattle on a tour bus that makes you car sick as it maneuvers windy roads at a snail's pace, they feel the need to enhance the experience with a rainbow colored theme which could have been created by someone throwing up 5 bags of Skittles all over your seat and the surrounding walls.




The greatest part about this is that it's a world wide phenomenon. I mean does one company really have a complete monopoly of the tour bus upholstery industry??!


I'm going to have to investigate.

I can't wait until this passes...

The Stripper and the Confederate Flag

This weekend I was talking to some friends of the male nature and they were laughing about a comment they had recently heard while on one of their many oh-so classy late night romps in one of SF's finest strip clubs. From what I can piece together from what they managed to piece together, one of them said something blatantly rude to one of the strippers. Her response (and the line they thought was the funniest thing they had heard in a while) was:

"I'm not a prostitute. I'm a stripper."

I don't think I would have ever really found their story and the resulting comment funny but now that I know a few people who were at once in their lives strippers I definitely have a better understanding of the culture and thus a stronger revulsion to the boy'z* resulting laughter.

My very basic understanding of the stripper world tells me that there are many types of women who have arrived there for many different reasons. Some needed money, some just wanted to try it and some were looking for a much deeper sense of empowerment by butting up against established cultural beliefs head on. I'm sure every woman has a different reason but those are the basic reasons that come off the top of my head...a head that has never been a stripper, so take it as you will.

I felt the urge to ask my boyish buddies why they felt the statement was so hilarious yet resisted realizing that a dose of reality would not be appreciated, let alone noticed in their drunken haze and as a subtle form of protest refused to participate in the laughter.

For me there is a distinct line between being a stripper and a prostitute, yet for most there is little to no distinction. This was one of those many moment where I saw how often our cultural understandings override every argument regardless of the degree of logic involved in it's development. In some ways it's comparable to how people think of the confederate flag. For some it's a symbol of oppression and hatred, for others it simply hints to our nations past, and for a few it purely represents regional pride. For me it is a symbol of a time in our past that we should never glorify and it doesn't matter how people argue their "innocent" reasons for still flying the flag I still choose to steer clear of them like the plague...and you know I'm probably right when I say I'm sure they don't mind that one bit.

My point is that there are often cultural ideas that are so strong they may never change. Yes we can make our efforts to raise awareness and pass knowledge, but with some things people are fighting the change too much for the movement to make any ground. With the confederate flag I refuse to allow it's connotations change. I want it to serve as a reminder of racial oppression forever and I'm okay with knowing that by doing this I'm not allowing others to carry on their traditions or use it to freely represent their love of Lynyard Skynyard. The same goes for many people's (specifically men in this case) opinions of strippers. They see them as women who are there to serve them. Whether they dance for them or sleep with them they are there for the man's pleasure and use. As a result most of those who often step foot in a strip club will never think there is a strong distinction between a stripper and a prostitute...at least not until they sit down and have a conversation with someone who believes there is a difference and even then, much like myself and my feelings about the confederate flag, it probably won't change a thing.





* I often use the term "boyz" instead of "boys" or "men" when I feel they have acted in a troublesome fashion. Be that hilarious drunkenness or dumping me.

One of those really bad mistakes...

My friend gave me a YouTube link to a video with U2 & Green Day singing a song called "The Saints Are Coming". The music video is awesome and it highlights the devastation caused by Katrina, something I don't think we think about enough. Yet there was one thing that ruined my experience and that was the ad next to the video. It's a rotational 300x250 but it's one ad I don't think should be rotated next to a video about the pain, loss and heartache that resulted from the hurricane:

You can view the video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=seGhTWE98DU

Sometimes we as advertisers royally f**k up. And for this I'm sorry.

Mob Mentality

When leaving the OutsideLands Festival on Saturday night a good majority of the 60,000 in attendance had to exit the polo field through a tunnel. The tunnel was about 30 feet wide and 15 feet tall and with thousands of people trying to get out, it was a bit congested to say the least. As we walked shoulder to shoulder like a herd of cattle entering a coral for the night, I had myself a moment. It may have been the half bottle of vodka I'd consumed or the slight vertigo I'd developed after 12 hours of eardrum shattering music; whatever it was it lead to a hilariously dark realization.

As we shuffled towards the tunnel, people on top of the tunnel would yell and cheer (god only knows why) and people in the crowd going through the tunnel with me would yell and scream back (once again, god only knows why). In addition to the periodic cheering (for god-knows-what), we were moving at a snail's pace and had to stop every couple steps. As I stood there squished like a panini in a press wondering who was stepping on my foot, why the guy next to me was trying to hold my hand, where my friends had disappeared to and why the hell people were yelling, I couldn't help but think:

"This must be what it's like entering hell"

A bunch of fools cheering for no reason, as they shuffle to an unknown destination without giving a second thought to the ridiculousness of the situation. We will cheer like buffoons as we enter the darkness and then as we arrive and realize where we are, the heat beating against us like an open oven in a Louisiana kitchen during summer, we will all think to ourselves:

"God dammit. I've been had".

Things that make me smile

• Fog/mist early in the morning or late at night
• Walking alone late at night in the city
• The sun on my face
• Happy couples (not sappy couples)
• This song:
  

• The smell and warmth of a campfire
• Waking up early and knowing I have a few more hours to sleep
  
• The sound, smell and breeze from rushing water
• Swings
• Watching the rain fall on a tree lined street through a screen door or from a front porch
  
• Long road trips
• Hot chocolate with whipped cream
• An open sunroof
• The sound of waves splashing against a boat as I drift to sleep
  
• A full moon
  
• Picking fruit
• Riding with the windows down
  
• Walking through a dark field on a warm night
• Puppies (not babies or kittens, just puppies...and maybe baby lions)
  
• When Katie writes "SOaB!!" on IM
  
• The smell of wet cement in the summer
  
• Drunk texts which imply nothing
• Thunder storms on a warm evening
• Watching an amazing runner smash world records
  
• Knowing that someone thinks I look beautiful in the morning
• Hearing a group of people burst out in laughter
• Listening to the seals as I lay in bed
• That point at the beginning of a book when you realize it's going to be good

Thank You Country Inns & Suites

I think we may actually be starting to get there...

50 Reasons Why Katie & I Should Go Back To College

In Absolute Awe...and then disgust

Seriously?! SERIOUSLY!!! A freakin' lightning bolt isn't as fast as this kid. OMG he's incredible...and he can be as cocky as he wants. I'm in absolute awe.


100m Final. Olimpics 2008. - Funny bloopers R us

If you would like to see a better version that isn't a result of a camera phone aimed with a shaky hand at a tv screen go here:
http://www.nbcolympics.com/video/share.html?videoid=0816_HD_ATM_HL_L0686

...which brings me to disgust.

Currently NBC still has all rights to Olympic footage and they aren't sharing. You can send your friends the link or link directly to the video, but other than that, you're SOL. I work in interactive advertising. I understand the value of having content that no one else has. You can charge a lot of money because you're going to have a lot of traffic. But part of the reason I work in interactive advertising is because I love the space and I love the space because I'm amazed by the sharing capabilities it offers, the community it creates and the creativity it inspires. The internet has made the world much smaller and has connected us in ways we never would have thought, with people we never would have expected. The Olympics has accomplished the same thing for centuries and in my opinion can be thought of as the real life event equivalent of the internet. It brings different people together from all over the world and unites them in their excitement, support and love for athletics. Given this I have no problem laying the claim that the Olympics belong to the world and not a network. Therefore, even though I understand where NBC is coming from I don't respect it, I don't condone it and I am disgusted by it. Let us have, share and unite around the content that is ours to begin with.

Why I hate Jon Guidroz

He knows how to spell "holes".

The Obnoxiously Obvious Dream

Why is it that sometimes dreams are so right on? Either they are totally cryptic and make no sense OR they are a complete testament to all your fears and emotions and thus cause you to talk in your sleep, wake up cranky and ultimately be in a b-a-d m-o-o-d the entire day. The worst part about it all is that it's just your imagination running wild while you sleep.


The Dream:

I was in a show. There were 4 of us, three of who had major parts and one who's part was small and apparently that was a result of his total and complete lack of skill doing whatever it was we were doing in the performance. Regardless he was the one that got the standing ovation and I was obviously upset yet at the same time excited for his success.

Next thing I know I'm roaming around the city trying to find my way to the after party. As a result of Actor #4's "amazing" performance, the entire party was being thrown for him. Oh, did I mention that I was dating this mystery Actor #4? Anywho, I was trying to get myself to the party before it ended but I keep coming across obstacles:

I had to pick up some chicken
I had to get a car started
I had to find my way out of a bush
I had to remove bricks from a wall

The list goes on. The worst part about the entire escapade was that I was trying to get to the party because I wanted to be with Actor #4, but at the same time I knew Actor #4 (even though we were officially dating) didn't care whether I showed up or not. So here I am trying to make it through all these ridiculous obstacles dreamland likes to throw at you so I can get to the party and remind him that he likes me.

I finally got there...and then I had to find someone's sweatshirt.

"Why not just talk to me?" Part II

Nevermind.

A Rebuttal

This failed to come to me in my mojito induced daze:

The concept of a “self fulfilled prophecy” is bunk. With it we place the entire weight of blame on an individual for fulfilling this “prophecy” yet we don’t acknowledge that this “prophecy” was created for them and therefore could not entirely be their fault.

Let’s examine this concept of a "self fulfilled prophecy" a bit more:

Premise #1 = There is a "prophecy"

If there is a “prophecy”, that would mean there is either an agreed understanding, cultural belief, “truth” or established "fate" to which this person is supposed to align. Given this, it would mean a person with a “prophecy” immediately has one strike against them at birth: the fact that they have a “prophecy” everyone believes they should fulfill. If a “prophecy” is a “prediction of future events, usually divinely inspired” it would mean that people are motivated to make sure the “prophecy” is realized. It is GOD we’re talking about. With that said, how could one say it’s entirely the individuals fault when they “self fulfill a prophecy” the community established and believed they would fulfill?

Peer pressure. It’s a bitch.

Okay I'll continue although I'm not sure I see point.

Premise #2 = The "prophecy" is self fulfilled and is therefore your own fault.

If Premise #1 is true, then Premise #2 cannot be. Having an entire culture attempt tell you there is a “prophecy” and thus invisibly hold you to a standard or position you never wanted in the first place, means you had something pushing against you the entire time you tried to move any direction other than that which the “prophecy” defined. Let’s think of it as a riptide. If we do this, we’re basically saying that if you don’t know how to swim diagonally or have never been taught to do so, your drowning is entirely your fault. I hardly think that’s fair. Weren’t there some people on the beach? What was that lifeguard doing?

Many of us are lucky enough (myself included) to not know what it's like to have our lives planned (or prophesied) for us by some over-arching cultural belief or previously set standard... a life that is a struggle to break free from, or simply one with a really strong current. Does that mean the world is against them completely? Probably not. But it does mean there is a whispering in the crash of the waves that tells you “this is your prophecy”, and if there is no one to help you swim to shore or teach you to swim diagonally, it’s easy to get swept away with the tide, and I hardly think a person is ENTIRELY to blame for that.

"Why not just talk to me?"

I don't get it.

A Cup not a Sieve

After being told twice in the last week that I am a "heavy user" of Facebook (a community I avidly avoided up until 5 months ago) I realized my creative juices might be starting to waterlog my "friends" and figured it was once again time for me to blog (yes, I'm using the word as a verb). I need a cup, not a sieve in which to let my creative juices flow and if anyone wants a sip, like communion, you're welcome to join whenever you deem fit. In other words, I'm going to write my crazy sarcastic brilliant and hilariously stupid comments here and not continuously push them out to the unwilling via Facebook wall comments and status messages.

Now...where to start. Without the pictures, videos, wall comments, recently joined groups and "Falking"* ability I suddenly feel coming up with something to say may be harder than I thought...but then again, has anyone ever known me to not have something to say?

The last time I was blogging was on my trip around the world 2005-2006. My last post was what I would like to think of as profound and inspiring but I'm sure to most it was simply a longer Jasmine Rant to which there would be no follow up. Going back and reading that post again and again I was continuously reminded of my love of writing yet wondered how my now "settled" life could in any way compare to the posts I made while riding buses loaded with chickens and ugali along pothole riddled roads in Africa. The bottom line is it can't...but that's why I started this blog. So as not to have my current life continuously compared with the more exciting, inspired, "I'm going to change the world" life I was living earlier.

Don't get me wrong, I still think I/we can "change the world" but things change when you're not out there IN it. The "changing" goes from starting an orphanage with your friends to using method hand soap. Living in a city like San Francisco and working in advertising, it's hard not to find yourself sucked back into that superficial world where your idea of helping others is paying $25 for a ticket to a charity event where "they'll have free drinks anyways so you'll definitely get your moneys worth, not to mention that cute guy who's friends with Sarah is going to be there."


But hey, the role of that more selfish human being that I periodically find myself playing is at the same time considered a more "productive member of society" and can have one hell of a good time in a city like San Francisco.

So to update you, my life since my last blog post has gone as follows:

• The flight I was running to catch after my last post...yeah I missed it, and it resulted in $900 in credit card debt because I had to leave that day (please note: I never missed anything my entire trip. Once a bus even waited 2 & 1/2 hours for me. I'm fairly sure it was a sign)
  
• Upon arrival in the US there was a quick meet-&-greet with my father's bride-to-be and then a huge wedding the next day
• I car searched and lazed about Arizona until I realized it was time to get my life started and make my way back to Cali
• I lazed about in Cali and had the ugly epiphany that job searching sucks ass
• The 2006 holidays were spent with the crazy Chase/Summerset/Vasquez family (I have the tapes to prove it)
  
• I moved to San Francisco with Katie and completely funded it with credit cards
• I job searched until March '07 when I got a job as an Assistant Media Planner at Real Branding (I had a few more epiphanies regarding the suckiness of job searching before this occurred)
  
• Katie and I became partners in just about every crime
• A month and a half into having a job, the company eliminated my department and thus fired everyone in it
  
• Katie and I threw parties and painted the town red
• I kept working at Real Branding for 4 more months where I learned to be a media planner in the blink of an eye (someone had to clean up the mess that was left behind when 14 people were fired)
  
• Katie and I painted the town magenta
• I got a job at AKQA
• Katie and I bought more paint
• I went on a few short trips to keep myself sane: SB a lot, LA a few times, Mexico, Washington, AZ, Boston. Yes, pathetic trips for a world traveler but that's it.
• I dated a mix of guys. Two of which I spent a serious amount of time with, and one whom I actually thought could have played a very important role in my life. yeeaahh...
  
• I went to a lot of industry parties, ate at new restaurants at least 3 times a week and drank my weight in martinis on a regular basis.
  
• I found myself here

Did you expect me to summarize the last 2 years in bullet point any better than that?

Lately I've been thinking about how being a traveler at heart makes living in one place extremely difficult, not to mention expensive. There is nothing pleasing or comforting to me about sleeping in the same bed every night. I cannot remember ever wanting to come home after I've been gone. In order to not feel trapped, I'm out every night of the week, I work long hours, I get out of town whenever I can and I try to see each person I meet as offering me new knowledge and potentially having an influence on my life path. Much like the "kill them with kindness" approach, seeing each day as a new adventure actually ends up making it one.

As a result, I love my life. I love the people around me. I love this city - sorry it's 2am and I just got back from drinking free vodka...did he really just text "I wamt to c u"??! - but at the same time I know I have lost sight of the many things I wanted to be sure to hang onto when I wrote that post early the morning of my last day in Paris. I have been trying to come to terms with this fact and at this point the only thing I can calm myself with is that for now it's okay because life is just a series of phases. A roller coaster of happy & sad, devotion & selfishness, knowledge & ignorance, caring & indifference, but if our hopes and motives are well rooted and inspired, we will always find ourselves where we want to be.

So, until I'm back out traveling the world and making that BIG change I promised myself I'd make, I will continue painting San Francisco (and on weekends, anywhere else I can get) red/yellow/blue/magenta/neon orange/insert color here. This blog will be about these paintings and how they're affecting who I am and steering me towards who I want to be.





* Falking = Facebook + stalking. Much like spyspacing