Episode 24: Reefer Madness!

Whether you know me personally or know me through reading this blog, I’m most likely the biggest Pothead you know! I’ve been a proud member of the cannabis community since I smelled it through the vents of my college roommates bedroom. It was then I knew this magic plant, an act of God mixed with science and nature was going to significantly change my life forever and it did. I love Marijuana. Not just for its healing properties, for its mental properties or for the way it brings people together, I love weed because it forces me to be at ease, it allows me to open my inner most pathways to a higher self. Weed is cool. Without it life is great, with it life is better.

So there’s a National Marijuana Day aka 420. Why wouldn’t there be? It makes more sense than National Cheese day or National Lima Bean Day which is also disrespectfully on the same day as 420…(Who the fuck eats Lima Beans?)

The last five years I’ve celebrated 420… It’s been a blast. I always take a day off work, there’s seemingly always an abundance of greenery in my presence. I’m surrounded by friends and edibles. 420 Day is a joyous occasion...I never experienced a bad one. Until…

April 20th, 2019…“It was a day that will live in infamy”. Not only did I miss one of my favorite rappers concert, the 4/20 party that was suppose to be this epic weed turn up turned out to be one of those, I’m an Instagram influencer, watch me not dance parties. Seriously, the DJ played Juvenile “Back that Ass up” No one danced! The bouncer was a complete douche. He said I had too much weed, made me roll all of it up before entering the party. In the midst of trying to roll FIVE GRAMS of weed, I dropped a big ass nug that is lost forever on the L.A. streets, or in the hands of a L.A hobo.. What does this mean, am I getting too old for this, do I have bad 4/20 karma for all the times I ash my blunt on people’s living room floors?

How could a day that’s usually perfect turn into Reefer Madness? Luckily I ended the night with friends, vegan snacks and amazing hosts. Even still the night ended before 10:00pm. I was tired, high and disappointed.

As I reflect back on this year’s 4/20 my realization is…

Putting all my energy into making this one day ultra special instead of making all my days ultra special speaks volumes. I bet if I put half the effort into comedy writing as I did trying to make 4/20 a spectacular day ya’ll would be sayin’ who is Issa Rae?

My 3 year anniversary in L.A. is in a couple weeks. I actually made it three years in L.A, with my head still on my head. Yes, I went through some shit, a lot of shit, a whole lotta shit.. I’m still here, no babies, no diseases, no bad attitude, mad confidence, single, a hot yoga body, I’m making music, writing and evolving into the Sailor Moon Christina I always knew I would become. Performing stand-up comedy this week, so wish me luck. I’m scared af… But there’s no better feeling than telling jokes on stage. I mean better feelings exist for sure but I’m unwillingly celibate. So stand up will have to due for now!

Stay Tuned.

Episode 22: I’m Cheating on You…

Let me remind you …(Reference: Blog Post #9 – I Got The Juice) I do not believe in monogamous relationships. Chalk it up to daddy issues or me just wanting to rebel against Western civilization societal concepts. In a world filled with seven billion people, I’m suppose to be with one of those 7 billion, for the rest of my LIFE? Nah. However, don’t confuse what I’m saying here. I believe in Love, watching my friends pop up on my Instagram with engagement rings genuinely brings me joy. It’s super cute. It’s just not right for me…Now, I make sure I relay these feelings to any man or women I choose to deal with, it’s up to them if they want to continue dating me or not. Because, in my early twenties I’ve lied about these feelings. I didn’t know I could choose to be with more than one person at a time. I lied and cheated on amazing partners which made me a coward. Thankfully they forgave me but still…It was pretty shitty to hurt them the way that I did.

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After revelation and acceptance, I thought I was done with the lies, turns out at age thirty I’m still cheating. Still lying… This time it’s worse… I’m Cheating on my one true love. The love that has been in and out of my life for the last decade. Yes, this love has put me through an emotional fuckin’ roller coaster, yes, I’ve spent restless nights dreaming about this love that inevitably has shaped a part of who I am today… But what do you do when something new, fresh and shiny suddenly burst into your life giving you maximum pleasure like you’ve never felt before?

Yes, you guessed it…I’m cheating on Comedy Writing with Yoga!

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A little over a year ago I began my Yoga journey after my homegirl hooked me up with a Front Desk gig at a Hot Yoga Studio in Beverly Hills. The studio was beautiful, the job was cool. No micromanaging, no 8 hour days, I could wear sweat pants. I clocked in made my money and left. I did however, begin to notice the clients, the teachers, the community of people practicing Yoga in 110 degrees. Nah. I had my one Yoga experience back in NY my good friend invited me to and it was an experience I did not want to have again. “This for white people” pretty sure those were my exact words to her. Plus out here in L.A. I was too focused on hating on Issa Rae, performing stand-up, falling in love and finding New Patient Deals around the city. Who had time for Yoga?

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I didn’t move to Los Angeles for Yoga. I’ve always wanted to make this vivid dream of writing come alive. I always pictured myself in a writer’s room. That’s where I belonged, that’s all I ever wanted. For the last ten years that’s all I ever craved, desired. All I have to do is make it in that room and I will find happiness forever. L.A. though. It will change you whether you like it or not. I noticed my changes. Lack of confidence, lack of funds. The vivid dream was fading and I didn’t know what to do. Fuck it…I took a Yoga class. A basic Vinyasa flow class, very foundational, very fuckin’ hot! I didn’t love it but I didn’t hate it either. With the studio offering thirteen different styles of classes I sporadically tried them all. Before I knew it I would clock out of work, grab a mat and head right into the hottest room ever.

A year has passed. I have two Yoga training’s under my belt. I teach classes filled with 20-30 people. I supervise the Front Desk now and I’m in the midst of receiving a 200Hr which will allow me to take my teaching skills anywhere in the country and beyond. Yoga has changed me back into the confident, vivid dreamer I was. My funds have significantly increased because teaching is the perfect side hustle. I can touch my toes, I have abs, I am part of this amazing community with beautiful humans that uplift each other, support each other. Oh and I am in love with teaching. Like, teaching Yoga is exhilarating, fun af, I get to help people change their bodies, minds. The smiles I see when they walk out of class, the work and energy they put in to class. It’s joy…But now that I’m a Yoga teacher the image of me sitting in a writer’s room doesn’t really do anything for me anymore.

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So, is that it. Am I not a comedy writer anymore? Besides this blog and Loud The Musical! I haven’t written anything. I don’t have a desire to write the way I desire curating a new playlist for Yoga Barre. Will I regret not pursuing writing ten years from now? Was it all a lie? Was it all a just a dream, will I ever meet Childish Gambino?

All these loans, So many loans… all this screenwriting education, I moved 3000 miles away from everything I ever known to write!

I guess once a cheater, always a cheater.

Stay Tuned.

Episode 20- A Hippie’s Holidaze

Its Holiday season! Bring out the hoodies, shorts and jean jackets, I might have to dare I say wear socks with my shoes now. The holidays in L.A., pretty non-existent to say the least. The rain replaces snow, its 65+ degrees, Its way too hot for one of those Ugly Sweater parties.

Yet,  holiday season brings me joy. Like, Thanksgiving what a fucked up holiday to celebrate but having three plates of food with no care in the world. Sorry Indians! (not sorry) This year I celebrated what most transplanted, stranded, Los Angeles residents celebrate. “Friendsgiving” Well in our case “Danksgiving” (Yes it’s exactly what you think it is) with my closest homies.  I thought my friendships were deteriorating after we didn’t get the dream house I wanted. At the end of the night… I love these Negros, regardless if we agree or not, these people I met almost a decade ago are still here, supporting and uplifting my crazy dreams. Plus as cool as it would’ve been to live with my Frat brothers. They fart a lot more often than the average male. Sports, there’s just so much sport watching…I can’t deal…But dammit I would be trifalin’ af if I wasn’t grateful. They let me stay with them these last couple months. I wear wigs, I get a period, I’m going through a break up and these guys were so nice and tolerant of all that.  Why do they like me?

So let’s revisit that last blog post. Was that Emo or what? I went pretty dark. I was saying stuff like…

I feel so stuck,  everything is falling a part. My friendships, my relationship. The thought of writing something creative makes me cringe now. How do I get back?”

It was pinned up inside me and I had to type it out. I won’t apologize for my vulnerability either.

I’ve been internally kicking and screaming because I’m trying to find some sort of break or easy way out of what ultimately are Karmic reactions to a continuous cycle I’ve subjected myself to. Basically. I’m tired of feeling bad for myself, making up excuses, It’s time to embark on this L.A. journey I was eagerly ready for when I first moved here. With opportunities and blessings literally smacking me in the face, I must keep pushing forward.

A new job, moving in to an amazing home with my closest friend, teaching more Yoga classes, embarking on my first 200 hour Teacher Training, starting my Podcast back up and recording music, I’m diving in to all my side passions until I can get rid of this *whispers* writers block.. I still feel like something is missing.  Why do I always think I need more? How am I not content yet? Then it hit me. Why I feel this emptiness within me. I must deal with this, I must face the truth that I might not ever meet Childish Gambino, let alone watch him  perform live ever again. I know I missed an amazing last concert.  I know now what it feels like to live life with regret.

Still, though. I’m in a much better place than the last couple months. This New Year will be interesting. I’m ready for it all.


Stay Tuned and Happy Holidays!