Los Angeles... what is it about this city that makes me want to do nothing?! Is it the lack of a car? I don't think so.. even if I had a car there is nowhere in this city that I want to go..maybe to get a massage but I can literally walk there.. It's so sad.. I have lost my desire to go out.. It's official.. this city is killing my soul!!!

I recently returned from a 2 week trip to Europe.. ahhh.. Europe.. what is it about Europe that makes me want to do everything?!

Lately I find myself occupied by the thoughts of a house, a garden and a dog. I have begun dreaming about my soon to be life as a married woman. Of the house with the beautiful garden that we will live in.. and the dog(s) that I have been longing for for so long....and, of course, my future husband and his adoring tenderness. For someone like me to think of these things rather than my career ambitions, I can't help but wonder.. has Los Angeles killed my spirits of being a business woman?

Terrible I know.. It seems I am blaming this city for EVERYTHING... even for my thoughts of the white picket fence.. Yet!! Yet, not an ounce of regret for packing my bags and coming here.. it was what I needed at that time.. now that the time has passed .. what is next...

I feel like a revolving door. I believe today is the first day in months that I am able to sit alone in my apartment in silence. No guests to entertain, no Disneyland for the 4th consecutive week... geez louize...

So I never thought that I, Shane Boc, would ever be a fan of the mouse.. that is Mickey.. well, not really a fan of Mickey but a fan of what Mickey stands for.. I have met so many Disney fanatics since I have been here.. all of them adults.. I always thought that Disney was a child's world.. that parents and adults were more like coerced participants and observers. But on the contrary... its amazing to see people of every age be swept away by the magic of Disney.

Last night I met a man from Ethiopia. He had picked us up from the hotel to drive us to the airport. While coming home we spoke about family, career, and of course, Disney. He shared his dream of wanting to bring Disney to Africa. "It's just too expensive but still, children in my home country all know and love Disney". "Someday... " His comments reminded me of the gospel. How growing up I wanted to make it my life's mission to bring the gospel to the unreached people. Now, I find myself bringing my guests to Disneyland on a Sunday..but ironically with no guilt. Why? because in the end, the essence of what it is that I want to bring still remains..

When the topic of drivers license comes up in a conversation most Angelinos still cannot grasp that I am living in Los Angeles without a drivers license. It's true, I don't blame them. Driving here is as common and essential as the subways and buses of new york city. Nonetheless, I am surviving.. I still don't find the need to have one. Yes, there are times when I wish I could get somewhere "faster" but at the end I always get to my destination.. and in the time spent somewhere between, I sit on the public transit and I just observe.. and reflect..


#1 Man with the Box

A man carrying a large box came on the bus with his friend the other day. I immediately noticed his fashion forward attire complimenting his tall slim frame. His hat tamed his dark curls and the rim slightly covered his eyes while only exposing his fabulous cheekbones and beautiful lips. He sat in front of me with his friend and I continued on with my occasional observations. What seemed at first a pretty stylish attire slowly began to unravel one butt cheek at a time. First of all, like most men who wear skinny jeans, they are able to pull off skinny jeans not only due to their skinny legs but also their lack of an actual ass. So when this guy's no ass butt crack slowly appeared in front of me I began to cringe.. Then it was his hands.. I thought I talked a lot with my hands but this guy made me look like an amputee. He was probably one of the most dramatic homosexuals I have seen ever! He could not sit still on the seat. His hands, arms, no ass ass, legs, they were all flying everywhere while he told his "oh my god its sooo important I'm going to die" story to his overly stoic and unamused friend. Due to his over exertion during his story telling, the man obviously started to perspire. So there he went, first taking off his jacket to expose his lanky arms and bird cage chest.. then it was his hat.. oh the hat!! the image of his dark luscious curls quickly vanished and was replaced by the crisco oil dressing that was his hair. The inside of the hat was discolored from all the grease and sweat.. The man began to brush his fingers through the crisco oil over and over and over and over again while taking a few moments out to collect his dander, sut, and all the hair falling out.. My god, I wanted to vomit..

He continued on with his story, his hair, his butt cheek while opening the lid to the large box. Inside the box - vintage everything.. vintage purses, vintage scarves, vintage belts, vintage shoes... every item had a label.. it looked like he just ransacked a salvation army.. the man continued rummaging through the box. He finally found a pair of black leather vintage shoes. Unfortunately, these shoes were true to its description as they both had enormous holes on the soles.. The man proceeded to take off his own shoes exposing his deathly stained green stripped socks with his unclipped toenails punching through the multiple holes of the fabric.. my nose started to twitch.. the smell.. oh my gosh the smell!!! He took off his shoes and replaced it with the new shoes leaking the smell of his socks and feet through the holes of the soles.. I was about to vomit..

what started off as a sight of beauty ended as a journey of disillusionment and physical torment. I felt like I had stared at a beautiful painting too long.. and slowly began to see all the cracks and imperfections.. but the truth is the cracks and imperfections existed all along, I was just blinded by all the surface of things.. these moments of forced observations and reflections remind me that I need to stop looking at the surface and observe further..





#2 The old man with the thunderous voice

To be continued..

How is it that I can come down with a flu-like virus here in sunny california and not during the dead cold of winter in the state of new york?! ummm.. craziness!!

Speaking of New York, I had a little taste of brooklyn over the weekend when The National came to play at the Wiltern! Fortunately I was able to get tix at the last minute.. It was nice.. to hear Matt Berninger's baritonic (is that even a word??) voice again.. Good times!

On a side note, what is up with Angelino's obsession with food trucks?! I went to an outdoor music festival over the weekend in Silver lake.. present at this festival were trucks after trucks after trucks of food!!! Every time a food truck comes to the Disney building there is a mass email to the entire building. For real?? I think the food truck people in NYC get a bad rep! They should all come to LA where they can be superstars!!

Mr. Baritone..

So now it's going on 3 months since I have been here.. this new city that I call home. For the past several months I have been busy basking in the pleasant weather and enjoying the company of my dear friends. However, hidden underneath the daily distractions of my life, a question keeps lurking in my head over and over, "why am I really here??".

This reminds me of the movie - A Serious Man. The main character is an ordinary man having a life crisis. He wants balance in his life once again and consults with three rabbis in trying to understand meaning in life or perhaps the world. The first rabbi, young and least experienced, tries to give him a reason - look at the bright side. The second rabbi, a bit more senior, tells a story with no answer to the central mystery of the story. It leaves the man more frustrated than before. The last rabbi, the most senior and respected, doesn't even take a moment to meet with the man despite his several attempts. The last rabbi's few words spoken throughout the entire movie is to the son of the man who had just completed his bar mitzvah. In his chambers the rabbi tells the boy to just lead a good life. Although the problems of the main character eventually subsides, the movie ends with an ominous tornado heading straight towards the town.

At times I feel like the young rabbi - always trying to give and find a logical answer to the questions that plague me. But the second rabbi tells us that there are no answers to the mysteries while the last rabbi tells us its not worth even spending your time racking your brains over, why? because at the end a tornado is coming that will wipe out everything else in comparison.

As such, sometime I wonder, why even ask why? Just do. Just try to live a good life. It's that simple.

For your mental consideration:

Last night I had a dream that I returned to my high school. I remember walking down the empty corridor full of small lockers and old yet familiar classrooms. I came upon a door. I opened it and before me I saw a field full of teenage students.. on the left was a group of cheerleaders practicing their routine .. they blended with the group of athletes practicing their throws across the field.. on the right was a group of students neither athletes nor cheerleaders but in movement nonetheless.. there was so much life at every turn of my head... the life was so youthful.. so happy.. so innocent..

I suddenly felt a void in my heart as wide and deep as the universe.. I wanted to cry but I refrained because I knew I would never stop.

Instead I woke up.

Ever since finishing Siddhartha, I have eagerly sought the work of other Hermann Hesse's writings. Currently, I am reading the pages of Demian. Although it was already on my Hesse list, I escalated obtaining this book because it came highly recommended by JP.

I remember one of the last exhibitions I saw before leaving NYC was Carl Jung's Red Book at the Rubin Museum. Coincidentally, Hesse was a good friend of Jung and Jung's psychology is certainly an evident theme in the story of Demian. This constant search for one's unconscious self has been something that I have been battling with for quite some time.. I never really communicated these thoughts out loud when I was younger.. perhaps in fear that it was not allowed in the Chrisitan faith.. My thoughts resided often alone within the confines of my own silence. When it really began, I do not know. Perhaps when I first picked up one of the books by Heidegger at Strands many years ago. Or perhaps when I first started questionning about what it is that I believe.. or perhaps when my college boyfriend would spend hours talking about space and time.. or perhaps when I first decided to become a believer 20 years ago. Regardless, it appears that religion, spirituality, knowing, truth, whatever one may call it has been something that has consistently paralled to my existence for as long as I can remember. With that said, when I come across philosophers, poets and writers, who touch upon this topic with such clarity in their work, I cannot help but feel comforted knowing that this journey, albeit a looong and lonely one, has been walked many times before..

" ... The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must first destroy a world..."


Danke Hesse!