Andrea Gabriel's Blog

Happy Febraury, kittens! I hope you’re enjoying your 2012 as it unfolds. I was recently thinking about Valentine’s Day and how it is one of my favorite holidays— not that it hasn’t always been one of the most emotionally introspective holidays, but it’s something about the red hearts and the flowers and the chubby little cupids and the drinking too much wine in the middle of a snowstorm. Oops—I lost myself there. For a second I was back in New York in the midst of a REAL winter, 22 years old and anticipating what Valentine’s Day might be like if I actually had a boyfriend.

I’m about to throw out something kind of controversial here… I think I liked Valentine’s Days better when I don’t have a boyfriend. I know. I should be studied by NASA… But it’s the truth. I loved the feeling of “potential.” When Valentine’s Day wasn’t about what restaurant you can get into (or afford with those ridiculous prix fixe situations—aren’t we suckers?)… Or what you received or if he or she paid enough attention to you—but about romance in general. When you don’t have a significant other on the day, the love really takes on a universality that is much more interesting. You can give a Valentine to your best friend, your mother, your father, your neighborhood parking enforcement officer (HA! NOT)…

Don’t get me wrong, V Day can suck when you are longing for someone or missing something that you had, but I encourage the idea of ANTICPATING the love that is coming your way… Enjoying the feeling of excitement about what he or she will be like. Anyway, that;s my rant about a very weird holiday… But c’mon, isn’t Valentine’s Day just something that they added to February to make it a little more fun? What else have we got? Groundhog Day and Presidents Day? Nah. Chocolates and fluffy clouds and satin hearts and chubby cupid butts get me every time.

With that in mind, here’s another poem from back in the day, you. This one’s kind of appropro, but I really don’t remember who I wrote it for. Nah, I do. : ) Hope you enjoy. And have a very happy Valentine’s Day! No matter what or whom your loving… or not loving…. Yet.

 

“You both knew it was over

but chose to stay and shout

kind of like moving into Amityville

And then not moving out.

 

But man, you sure surprised me

In fact it kind of made my day

I never really did like your old girlfriend anyway.

 

So who was it? Who finally did it?

Who walked out the door?

She did what? That sounds harsh baby.

But what you calling me for?

 

Could it be I don’t want a commitment?

No, that would be too much.

doesn’t seem like I need a babysitter or a father or a crutch.

 

But maybe we could share a conversation

Or a beer at some slick bar

But don’t expect to do me damage

No, I’ve come way too far.

 

I’m already painting the outside of a flowerpot

But can only guess if seeds will grow

And tonight I’ll be rubbing me wondering

What it is you think you know…

 

Damn... I always do this.

See, this is nothing new.

And now you’ve even got me

Writing this dumb poem for you." -AG

Hey there bloggies! I know I know I know. I have been slacking ridiculously when it comes to blogging. Don’t worry. There will be updates made to the “latest news” section and I also hope to get more disciplined when it comes to the actual blogging portion of the site. By the way, you can always find me for the smaller updates and communicate with me on facebook by becoming a fan on www.facebook.com/pages/Andrea-Gabriel/108081184622 and/or you can follow me on twitter,  https://twitter.com/#!/AGabrielTweet.

I am actually very active when it comes to facebook and twitter…  But when it comes to blogging I sometimes feel like I don’t have anything substantial to say, or that to make it a bonafide “blog”: I have to write a mini essay (and I am still adverse to the essay format—knee jerk reaction from high school, what can I say), and I’m afraid that my blogs will ramble so the consequence is that I won’t write them at all. Not to mention the fact that all of these tools to connect in this computer age are a little disorienting for me. But so you all know, my intention is to use this blog for longer updates and stories to fully express myself to you lovely ones so that you might get a more solid idea of my message, who I am , what I have to express and what I believe in, and hopefully spread a little love and enlightenment along the way. It’s also important to remind myself just what my “message” is every now and then as well!

I was just going through some old journals the other day and realized I always had a lot to express… Even when I look back and wish I had been more outwardly expressive when I was younger. I think the difference is that I didn’t know how to get my thoughts “out there” (yeah, this was before the internet revolution)… So I journaled my little face off, wrote songs, did open mikes in weird basements in the village. I basically just did whatever I could do to communicate with other people. Don’t get me wrong, I still love journaling alone in my room (although open mikes are getting harder in LA since they shut down Ghengis Kahn and Highland Grounds. Ideas anyone?), but I think finding a forum of like-minded people is incredibly empowering, and I have read online (I think twice today at least) the concept of love being shared and expressed through a computer screen.  So maybe this blog is my brand new open mike (no drink minimum, although if you want to crack open a beer while reading this, be my guest).

My message to everyone is self-empowerment, love of others, self-respect, and a basic commitment to higher truth. I want to step away from the “kool-aid”— or what I refer to the mixed messages of a media that condemns and rewards the same values at the same time (for example, it’s horrible to make a sex tape—but let’s give that person their own show and millions of dollars in endorsements. Or it’s horrible to be “fat” or “old” but let’s shine the light of judgment on anyone who loses weight or seems to be overly concerned about their looks or has too much plastic surgery). I mean, sheesh! How can you win? Kinda makes you want to chew your own paw off. Now don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against (or for) making a sex tape or having plastic surgery—it’s not my job to judge anyone, nor would I presume to be have the right to—I just find that a society that sends two distinctly contradictory messages at the same time promotes a fertile ground for chaos, perpetuates a downward spiral in self esteem (which can also manifest as self-absorption and narcissistic entitlement), and encourages mistrust, defensiveness and hostility in general, and a loss of one’s own trust in his or her own intuition and in others.

I want the message of this blog to be based on whatever speaks to us as individuals yet unites us and emphasizes connection, honestly and communication related to the human experience. Whatever makes us walk away feeling better about ourselves and better about others, as opposed to what makes us compete with each other, judge each other, separate from each other and hurt each other. Let’s come together people, like, right now.  (Thanks, John.; )

Soooo… That said, and with much gratitude in my heart for the work of all the brilliant bespectacled techies that have made this cyber moment possible, I want to share a poem I wrote way back when and consider this the first of much of the work I am going to share on this blog, since I defieintely have the body of work (and now I seem to have gone and written a mission statement. Oops. I’d best stick to it). Get ready for some fun, bloggies, and much love to you.

Xx Andrea

“Untitled. Can you dig it?”- AG

Some guy picking up the trash

Trying to pick up on me

I'm sitting here in Central Park

Delighted just to be

 

What? Is someone missing?

Just because I'm just with me?

No, I'm actually with a really big guy

Squint your eyes and you can see.

 

Sure there are couples kissing

Some are doing even more

but I've got what I've always had

but not always understood before.

 

See, growing up at grammar school

no one knew what "alone" meant

I always felt somehow under dressed

at some society event

 

They called me fatso, hippo, weirdo

and other such supportive things

but when no one played with me in the park

I always had the swings

 

Getting older, getting wiser?

progress still yet to be seen

and whoever's been to high school

knows exactly what I mean

 

on the first day of ninth grade

I ate my lunch in the bathroom alone

and spent the best of the next four years

waiting 'til they said we could go home

 

Now a few years later

my insides starting to grow calm

I realize I don't want a clique, or a prom date, or a prom

 

I go out alone a night

just me and my busted car

delighted to float just like a ghost

in and out of every bar

 

So don't worry your pretty head about me

see, this is just my style

and if you see me concentrating

don't you dare tell me to smile

 

there will always be conformists

and supid clubs with friendship rings

but don't ever feel out of place

alone, and swinging on the swings.

 

Hello my beautiful bloggies! Ok…  So a long overdue blog. This is going to be a miniblog—just a little note to keep posted. Sorry it’s been so long! Since I last wrote we had Halloween, Breaking Dawn Part 1 premiered and I got to see my vampire friends again (which was sooo great!! I missed them), and then I was in New York City for Thanksgiving to see my lovely family…

I adore LA. The pace, sunshine, driving, the beach, and the llifestyle (oh and did I mention the weather?)… And I am so grateful for the friendshipsI have cultivated here…. But New York is part of my DNA. It’s so funny how the second I land in that city and step out onto the streets time folds in on itself and I adapt to the rhythm like a fish thrown back back in the water.. I usually stay at the Hilton on 6^th avenue, which happens to be blocks from where I grew up, so the illusion of time travel is multiplied. Those few blocks from my house to the entrance of Central Park South used to be a regular pilgrimage for me, andI would regularly escape the cement and the crowds and hold my breath until I walked into the sanctuary of green and relatively open skies. Central Park is probably my favorite place in the city. I would take my walkman (yes, at that time, there were no ipods—dang I feel old) and swing on the “big kid” swings facing the Essex House sign. They were the kind of swings that are made of rubber seats and metal chain so you can swing ridiculously high… I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to do that this time. But I did get a chance to ride on the carousel.  That thing hasn’t changed AT ALL since I was a child, and that is extraordinary. The same music, the same décor—I swear if that thing went backwards one probably could time travel! I took some weird and random pictures on it… I’m sure everyone thought the fact that an adult woman was riding the carousel by herself taking pictures was  a little weird… But then again, I kind of am. And I’m really short, so hopefully from far away they thought I was a tween on a horse.

I know… This is a short one—hardly a blog. More like a blogette. but it’s late and I don’t want my typing to wake Leo. I will update more soon! In the meantime, have a great Sunday and stay tuned.

Hey sweet bloggie friends. I hope you are all easing gorgeously into fall and enjoying every moment of it. A true New Yorker (and now a proud Angelino—yes I think I think have earned dual citizenship), I truly adore the different interpretations of the seasons. Of course they aren’t quite as “obvious” as the seasons in the northeastern states, but California has it’s own subtle changes and beautiful transitions. I love seasons in general because they are so eloquent in their temporality. Always shifting and becoming what comes next…

Really gets me to thinking (surprising, huh? Coming from someone writing a blog)… I live in Los Angeles and I know it is so easy to swallow the cultural Kool Aid that we are ALWAYS supposed to look one way and NEVER supposed to age, as if aging is icky, that the subtle changes in our bodies are wrong, as if nature has to be stopped. It breaks my heart to see breathtakingly beautiful mature women walking around altering themselves compulsively, almost apologizing for their natural development into their next beautiful stage of life. We hear the phrase “young and beautiful” as if it were one and the same. True, beauty can be young, but it can also be many different ages. Since about the time I turned twenty-one it seemed I was aware that accumulating years was something to fear and that I should enjoy my youth “the bloom was still on the rose.“ True, every one should enjoy their youth, but isn’t it hard when people are telling you it’s all down hill from here?

I know many of my readers are young women and I LOVE that (I also know I have women and male readers of all ages and I adore that—but first a word to our young ladies…) Now please understand, if you already feel wonderful about yourselves everyday and do your best to boost your friends’ self-esteem as well, goddess BLESS you. Rock on with your bad selves, you rock stars. I LOVE it. But if it’s worth anything, please know that in my teens and twenties I never felt as comfortable in my own skin as I do now that I’m in my thirties (and hopefully will when I’m in my forties and so on)… I didn’t appreciate my “youth” as much as I should have because I was so busy being self-conscious in other ways. Was I too fat? Was I wearing the wrong thing? Did anyone like me? I didn’t quite understand how to feed and exercise my body so I felt that it had a life of its own and it could fluctuate according to its own whims. In addition, I didn’t have any experience to base my self esteem on, so I looked for approval from outside sources, The glorious part of maturing is that you become aware of how your body asks to be treated as you ease into yourself… And as you accumulate evidence of your own intelligence and power you begin to realize that if you have a fat day or a bad hair day, guess what? Who cares! Chances are nobody is noticing, and if they are, they’re lame to be judging you and their opinions don’t matter… You’re still amazing.

Ok now, let me get this straight,… “They” are telling us that once we’ve finally become comfortable in our own skins, we’re supposed to fear aging? No offense, but screw that. Seriously. And the irony is that there is no “they.” There is no bad guy. Sure we can blame the media, but the media is only a mindless mirror of the behavior and beliefs we unconsciously adopt and perpetuate as if they’re hand me downs, habits we don’t even remember developing. The media would have no impact (and no market, by the way) if we simply refused to drink the Kool Aid. I remember when I was seventeen, washing my face next to a classmate, and as I dried it with a towel she gasped and told me I had to “dab” my face gently with cotton or I’d get wrinkles. Her mom told her so. At seventeen! Pardon me, but (again) screw that.

Please join me in refusing to believe anything about yourself besides the fact that you are beautiful now and you are only going to get better with age. There is nothing you have to do or fight that is part of the natural process of your life. If you want to tweak yourself or lose or gain a few pounds because it would feel even better, then by all means, do it. But please remember—“you” are your soul. Your soul is only becoming more beautiful and more magnificent every day as you learn and is exposed to love and experience and wisdom. That is what will ultimately come through, regardless of age. Time is irrelevant. Beauty is who you are and the deeds you do. Ok. I am “stepping off the soap box” now. FYI that means I’m done preaching. It’s an old expression my grandmother used to use .

... And by the way, did I mention what a hottie she was? : )

peaches, A

p.s. Loving the feedback! Please keep it up. Much love to you. xx