Chapter Seven: Be quiet and drive (with appreciation to the Deftones).

I don't know where you're from, but if you don't know where I'm from, I'm from California - Southern California to be exact (and exactness is everything when showing off your roots). I've been out here in the Las Vegas desert since the end of 2011. Sure, Vegas has its pros and cons like any other American metropolis, but in my humble opinion, no place equates to the versatility and uniqueness of SoCal. 

I grew up in Torrance, a suburb about thirty minutes away (depending on the traffic) from L.A. While I have been to Downtown plenty of times, my home has always been closer to the water. I grew up at the beach. I lived on Avenue I at Redondo Beach. It is considered to be the lesser of the beaches as it is not as classy as Manhattan or Hermosa, but class has nothing to do with the taste of salt water crusted onto one's lips; the alarming yet soothing caress between the toes from a sand crab burrowed in the wet sand; and an incoming set of decent height. Most of my childhood was spent trying to build up the courage to glide down the many expressive faces of waves, as well as find the balance to do so. Surf boards and I have never really been concurrent in our rhythms unless we both lie perfectly still on a glossy, seemingly lifeless surface, and it was in those moments that the world seemed so tangible and relevant, and probably the equivalent to being plugged into each other like the Avatar people and their horse-beings (major nerd fail here). I took a lot of these moments for granted being that I was young and did not understand the purposeful necessity of just sitting still for a moment. I relayed heavily on my body board and body surfing skills to navigate a great ride through the break zone, generally ending my ride with a self-inflicted wipe-out. 

Wipe-outs are fun, especially when self-induced. There is nothing more exhilarating than pushing oneself into the mysterious beyond, adrenaline pumping furiously and fear lurking off in the distance. Wipe-outs always make for the best memories and stories. On top of riding the surf, I have always been a roller coaster junky. I have been beyond blessed with a love for heights, flips, sudden drops, stops and everything in between - except spinning. Spinning and me are sworn enemies. I have no shame in saying no to spinning. Anyway, while I love the whimsical nostalgia Disneyland brings, Six Flags Magic Mountain will always hold a special place in my heart ... because I am sure my love of tossing and turning was honed at that theme park (as was the tiny bit of street cred I possess). 

I was able to leave the desert this past weekend for a time down memory lane with the manfriend, who also shares a love for those metal monsters. The best part of the trip was re-learning how to be "hardcore." Of course Rey and I chatted up our mutual experiences growing up at Magic Mountain, chests puffed out like two male peacocks with plums full and high. Well, that chat was good and fun until we actually parked in the lot and faced a glimpse of what was to become.

Well, on the bright side, Bugs Bunny Land is still up and running.

Plums a bit meeker and our stomachs doing weird things only older people's should be doing, Rey and I realized our mortality in an instant. I must admit, it had been a while since I had been on any substantial coasters. I was definitely feeling my age as we decided that our first ride to break back into the swing of plummeting from the sky to the earth (or concrete) was going to be Goliath. Now, Goliath doesn't seem too bad on the scale of Magic Mountain coasters. It isn't a chaotic labyrinth like my favorite ride of all time, X2, but the first drop - a lovely 255 feet - is quite the bucket of ice cold water on the head of someone who has essentially been in a coma. But much like taking, albeit slightly reluctantly, that abnormally larger and more erratic wave, not sure if one can balance properly or even maneuver a more painless wipe-out, we stepped onto the platform, buckled our safety restraints with blind bliss (we had to remove our glasses of course!) and did not look back. 

And boy was the first fall sheer, terrifyingly sweet bliss.

Full Throttle: the second best coaster.

I tried to make Ninja cooler by placing the track from Viper above us.

Me, Rey and randomness.

My future ride.

On top of rekindling my love for roller coasters, I got to reignite that old flame with the love of my life. We ended up buying passes and intend to add some loops into this year by visiting the park as often as possible. 

Among all of the craziness, this was the first time I was venturing out into the world with very limited access to vegetarian/vegan options. If there is one theme park that is not going to accommodate this lifestyle, it would be Six Flags (not that this is on purpose). Theme park food is all about being fast and easy to vomit. Thankfully, manfriend suggested something easy, intimate and sweet: a picnic. I was able to eat comfortably without breaking the bank. It was also nice to take a break from the noise of the park to sit and listen to the fun in the distance, the birds chirping and spending some quality time with Rey.  

Tofurky ... sexy.

Food, love and coasters.

Lunch was served in the form of tofurky sandwiches, Trader Joe's flaxseed tortilla chips and pita chips and hummus. It was actually really nice. I was full of energy for the day and didn't vomit once - yay for good life choices!

All in all, my Sunday was a fun day of back flips and front flips, sudden drops and climbing hills to do all of the above. But while these memories are engraved into my mind in the form of steel tracks hugging my brain just as tight as I did to my lap bar, I found myself back on the water's surface that Monday afternoon on the long drive back to the desert. No, I cannot say I was thrilled to be heading back. But it wasn't because of the fact that I was going to miss the park. I sat quietly, driving through the outskirts of my home and I was brought back to those long-forgotten moments I had often shared by myself in the water. The sun shines differently in SoCal. I don't know how to explain it, but it does. I am not talking about the smog, either. I mean it actually shines differently. The color of the atmosphere reminds me of a time from long ago, back when I was young and life was simpler. I was breathing in the past, its breeze flooding through my opened car window, and my lungs could remember exactly what it felt like when I used to breathe in that air. I was sad for a moment but it passed, as I'm sure it always will. There is a comfort in finally connecting with a familiarity that one never knew was there because one never sought it out or was simply too busy consumed by the chaos around - even positive chaos. Finding that time to reflect in that perfect moment is magical. After a long time, I have finally experienced that long forgotten triumph in everything making sense. And while it was not as though I had some kind of miraculous epiphany, I finally found a piece of my former self along the trail I had blazed a while ago. That in itself is magical.

I miss Torrance and the beach and all that I was back in that life, but I know that the pieces I've shed over this season are preparing me for the person I am going to become; the person that will be a bit worn in the desert heat but very much educated by the chaos. And when I return to familiar ground, I will be a great new version of myself, hopefully with a better understanding of how this all works. Of course I will endure all of my wipe-outs, environmental and self-induced, with fear lingering in the back ground and in a hesitant step, but I will step onto that platform, lock in my lap bar and make the plunge. That is a part of what life is all about.

But more importantly, I will make sure to find that moment to simply be quiet and drive.     

Chapter Six: Scramble.

If I could describe my life in a simple picture, I suppose I could do so with this one:

Don't feel too sorry for me; this stuff is good.

In words, my life tends to be a scramble. And before you begin the typical "Ugh, I'm so over Cassandra being emo all of the time" eye roll, I mean that my life is a scramble in a positive way. 

Of course, scrambles don't always look pleasing to the eye. Perhaps if you were to walk past this picture and not give it much of a glance, you may just see an ugly brown blob with some white cubes. Random. It probably wouldn't even cross your mind as being edible. But when you look a bit closer and see what actually composes the scramble, that's were the blob becomes more intricate and it all begins to make some sense. Unfortunately, I tend to have a more walk-past-mindlessly approach, which is why life has been getting to me a lot lately.

I have a handful of foods/fruits/vegetables that have always made me shudder. I tend to be a very open minded - and mouthed - person when it comes to food, but like every Superman, I also have my kryptonite, even if it's a kryptonite whose affects I've never actually tested. I have never been partial to tomatoes, mushrooms or kiwis, and I have lived in fear of what a brussels sprout may do to my very soul. Going vegetarian has brought me to that point where I will now have to face my fears, suck it up and start expanding my palette beyond the purposely set limits of my foodie imagination. While I am not running head-on into the danger zone, I have slowly started to incorporate at least one of the aforementioned items into my diet. 

I'm sure at this point, you are through rolling your eyes and have moved onto a more befuddled expression: what does this have to do with your life besides you ditching meat? Well, I guess my musings regarding scrambles started last night when the manfriend and I met up with some of my high school friends at a local Thai restaurant called Lotus of Siam (which is really an amazing spot to dine - you should check them out). My friend Yurika and her boyfriend Shoji ventured to Las Vegas yesterday for a vacation and I had the lovely opportunity to do a bit of catching up with them as well as enjoy some tofu pad-see-ew, a dish I would marry if I was not already in a committed relationship.

The conversation carried on in the usual way as Yurika and I chatted about our friends back home in Torrance. We exchanged a blanket I accidentally left at our annual Christmas party and a watch our other friend Erica left in the backseat of our car from our annual Laughlin trip. Rey, my hubby, also gave them some off-the-strip must-see advice because we "locals" tend to beckon our visiting friends away from the confines of a typical Las Vegas schedule. I definitely enjoyed the food and the effervescent company, but what really stuck in my brain since last night was the remark Yurika made as we embraced in our leave. She said to me in similar words, "you must get a lot of visitors from home because you're the closest of the extended group." In that moment I didn't think much of it; I just grinned and thought, "yeah, Liz is in Florida and Jen is going to be moving out of the country soon ... I suppose I am the closest of the extended friend-family."

Then today and all of work's drama ensued, and as I sat in my car on the drive home, my mind, though tired, focused on Yurika's words again. I wanted to dwell on the fact that 2014, even with the big, positive changes that have come to pass in my personal life, was still a big scramble of mess. But Yurika's words really got me thinking that despite it all, my 2014 has been pretty fricken good in terms of the awesome people I have in my life. Since moving to Las Vegas, I have missed out on birthdays and other fun events. But I got to spend time with a group of people (that keeps growing!) that I have known for what seems like forever over Christmas. I have had Dulce, Robin and Duane visit, and I have seen my friend Chammarra and her family on their vacation out here. I am beyond excited that Liz will be coming over from Florida in February and that we are going to have a week to hang out, catch up and make new memories.

I know that to most of you these are faceless names. To me, these are people I have known since middle school - and some even earlier. Moreover, these humans are like my family as they were there for me in times when even my own family wasn't completely present. I survived a great deal of bad history because of these people and the fact that they all still are very much present in my life is one of the greatest blessings I could ever have. Most people leave high school and never see each other again. Me and my friends have no intention of going to our high school reunions because the people we cared about most a decade ago are still active in our lives today. It's a beautifully mind-boggling fact. 

When I'm driving home at the end of the day, especially on those days when life seems especially hard, I need to remember the best parts of the scramble of life. I made a scramble tonight for dinner for me and Denise, and it consisted of soyrizo, tofu and potatoes. I also added mushrooms. No, I was not happy about it because mushrooms have an awkward texture and an awkward almost tasteless-taste which weirds me out beyond reason (much like my dislike towards boba balls - I mean, really, what are you?!) but I figured that mushrooms are healthy and good for me and something that I need to start incorporating into my diet for all of their positive benefits. So while the scramble may appear to be just that, a mess, it's the individual ingredients that come together to create something that actually does kind of make sense. Yes, tofu and soyrizo are yummy. Potatoes are also good but are also starchy. And mushrooms are still kind of terrifying, but in the long run, I know that mushrooms and I will end up being cordial at the very least. I just need to start seeing their benefits instead of dwelling on that awkwardness they possess, in the humble opinion of my taste buds. At this point, I need to accept that life will always have its messy, unintelligible moments, but it is in those moments that we search and find those gems that make the messy times easier to get through. I am blessed by my support here in Vegas with me, Denise and Rey and his family. But I also have those crazy humans from Torrance and Florida and everywhere in-between that help me to find the fun within the scramble. 

It is in appreciating the creativity of it all that we find the artistic side of life; we discover new tastes, new ways to do things, and new fun in old traditions by being bold, not backing down and understanding that with all the bad there is also all of the good in a perfect balance of chaotic mess that, someday, will make sense - even if it is left to individual interpretation.

Well kiddos, I am done trying to be all philosophical for tonight. It is time for bed. I leave you with a simple expression of thanks for all of the tofus and mushrooms, old and new, in my life; you are all weird and awkward but ultimately good for me, so I thank you - seriously, I do. You make this scramble delicious.

Cheers!