• Perhaps the biggest reason I haven’t done a “traffic thoughts” in while is a little known culprit that goes by the name of Twitter. I spent more time on it than I’d like to admit, but it’s a great place and frankly, I’m really puzzled by people who “don’t get it.”
• I finally finished reading Ray Bradbury’s “Fahrenheit 451″ and thought it was an incredibly amazing book and concept. The idea of books no longer existing is frightening. What was more interesting than the actual book was an explanation at the end of how Bradbury went about writing it. Apparently, he couldn’t find any quiet time at home, so he found some space in the basement of the UCLA library where he paid to use the typewriter to churn it out. If you have an affinity for books, I would definitely recommend reading it. It’s also a good palette cleanser after reading the hot mess otherwise known as the Twilight series. Trust.
• I ranted briefly about it on Twitter today, but I have absolutely had it with people imitating others and stealing ideas, mostly because it’s been happening to me with people I thought I had long left behind in my past. I am just wondering what the benefit of doing this is? a) It feels cheap b) what does that say about you that you can’t produce an original thought? c) if you don’t have resources to steal from anymore, just who exactly are you? A collection of other people’s thoughts? d) why don’t you have enough self-awareness to realize what you are doing. Copying, stealing imitating = FAIL. You know who you are.
• I will be London-bound to visit my boyfriend in t minus one week! I’m excited, nervous, excited, happy, did I mention excited? Portobello Market and Covent Garden, here I come.
• I have been gathering up leads for the last two weeks, in an effort to send pitches out to magazines and other publications but I haven’t had a single moment to put together some cohesive ideas - this is when I really feel like there should be an eighth day added to the week, or better yet, the weekend.
• I’ve also been trying to put together ideas for an ezine I’ve been working on and a beauty blog, as well as trying to keep up with Margeaux Clyde and her journalistic endeavors. So. little. time.

There is no greater comfort than music when you’re feeling down. Movies last too long and take too much time to concentrate, food makes you feel good but you have stop before you gain 10 lbs in a week and friends and family are great, but sometimes you just want to be alone. There’s nothing better than a well-written, harmonious 3-minute song to distract you from your woes, or perhaps help you think things through. Hey, it’s better than that tub of Ben & Jerry’s you’re scarfing down.

I present to you songs for when you’re sad, including songs by Lykke Li, Sweden’s newest and best export since Ikea, Sade, who needs no introduction from me and Lay Low, a half Sri Lankan, half Icelandic singer who is slowly becoming my new favorite.

Lykke Li - Everybody but me

But my jeans are too tight
Don’t really feel like dancing
No this light is too bright
Don’t really feel like shining
No this room is too small
Rather stand against the wall
And hope that no one sees me

Duffy - Syrup & Honey

Don’t you be wasting all your money on syrup and honey
Because I’m sweet enough
Don’t you be using every minute on making a living
Because we’ve got our love

Haunt Me - Sade

Haunt me
In my dreams
If you please
You’re breath is with me now and always
It’s like a breeze
So should you ever doubt me
If it’s help that you need
Never dare to doubt me

Love is a Losing Game - Amy Winehouse

Over futile odds
And laughed at by the gods
And now the final frame
Love is a losing game

I Forget It’s There - Lay Low

Get your high heels out of my chest cos they’re hurting me

You don’t need to kick me when I’m already down

No need to shout

I hear you loud and clear

Just please please please please don’t hate me

I’m feeling particularly brave about writing here today, so here is my contribution to bad poetry everywhere:

Tea, tea, tea, tea, can I tell you how much I love thee?

You warm my hands, my heart and my soul

From my fingers way down to my weary toes

If I’m in a bad mood or just upset

You’re there to soothe me and make me forget

All the worries on my mind

To you I’d like to make a shrine

Earl Grey, English Breakfast and Cinnamon spice

I can’t decide so I throw some dice

Whichever flavor I happen to drink

I rarely pour you down the kitchen sink

I like you brewed, the old fashioned way

A tea bag will do if I’m in a cafe

There’s nothing in the world I look more forward to

Than sharing my sunny afternoons with you

Of course, you are perfect for stormy weather

With you, there isn’t anything I can not tether

Dear Education System of the United States of America,

How have you been? It’s only been almost two years since I’ve left you, so I think it’s time to have a heart to heart. In fact, a talk with you is long overdue. There’s a burning question I’ve been meaning to ask you ever since I realized that there are still people in the world who don’t know proper spelling and grammar:

What went wrong?

No really, I’d like to know. When did “your” and “you’re” become interchangeable? When did people stop caring about using “their,” “there” and “they’re” appropriately? Or that “whose” and who’s” and “its” and it’s” mean different things? And let’s not forget the “spell what you hear” policy those who shall remain unnamed employ: sandwich, breakfust, anywere, kindergarden - I could go on.

It’s just a really big shame. In all of this however, there is a glimmer of hope - a glimmer of hope that started in the most unlikely of places: Facebook. In an act of resistance, a lovely group aptly named “I judge you when you use poor grammar” emerged to fight the evils of English language everywhere.

The group was on a mission - a mission to gather as many examples of poor grammar and spelling to show the world that we are mad as hell and are not going to take ignorance against the written word any longer. It looks like after 360,634 members and 5,409 examples of poor grammar later, the mission has been accomplished: “I Judge You When You Use Poor Grammar: A Collection of Egregious Errors, Inadvertent Bloopers and Other Linguistic Slip-Ups,” birthed from the loins of one brave Facebook group will be coming to a bookstore near you on March 31, 2009.

Teachers of the world, I urge you to tell your students about this book. Students of the world, I urge you to listen to your teachers so you never end up in a collection like this. Education System of the USA take note - you’re obviously doing something wrong.

Before I graduated with a journalism degree almost two years ago, this little space of mine on the world wide web was just a place where I could share my thoughts, my likes and dislikes and the events which occurred on a daily basis. After I received my B.A, the thoughts I had about this blog began to change. I started to think more about what I was putting out there for the world to see. I began to worry about the topics I was discussing and the caliber of my writing. I thought up ways I could make this place better. I was rarely getting comments, so I might as well have just deleted everything I wrote and not look back. This was my thought process.

For a long time I didn’t write, or started to, but immediately erased my post, feeling self-conscious about everything I did here. I would look at websites like Dooce and try to figure out ways to achieve the same kind of popularity. Other times, I would consider converting my amalgam of posting topics into one niche idea that I would concentrate on, like journalism or food.

But the thing is, I’m not just about journalism or food, though they are perhaps my two biggest passions. I am about so many other things too. I slowly  began to realize that I could never fit into a niche. This is why this blog is called “writepudding.” Not only is it a play on “rice pudding,” but it allows me to write about whatever I like, just like a pudding allows you to put in so many different and versatile ingredients.

The same inner struggles I experience with this blog, are the same ones I have about my professional career as a writer. There are times when I am so overwhelmed. There are days when I dream about leaving the city and renting a log cabin in Wisconsin just so I can think and write and write and think - just so I can clear out my mind and come up with an amazing idea for a novel. Then, there’s every day of my life, when I drive by the Los Angeles Times building in downtown, on my way to Santa Monica, wishing and hoping that I will have the chance to work there some day and wishing and hoping that that day was already here.

One thing is for sure - to be in this profession, either a journalist or a writer, the only thing that keeps you going is passion - because it sure as hell isn’t the money, or the perks, or the praise or the hours, because they all suck. You have to constantly reinvent yourself, your ideas, your skills and underneath it all, if you don’t have a burning fiery passion for it, it will fizzle out sooner than you can say “I’ve had enough.”

I don’t think I will ever have enough.

Two nights ago, I gathered my things from the living room, including Henry the Maltese and went to bed, like I do every night. I had just settled in under my sheets and was planning on doing some reading, when I looked over to find that Henry was not on his usual spot on my bed. I looked around the room without getting up and I couldn’t spot him anywhere. I knew he couldn’t have gone out, as the door was locked, so I decided to look under the bed. Even though it’s one of his favorite spots, he wasn’t there either. I started to call out his name and got up, but soon enough my panic had melted into uncontrollable fits of laughter, as I saw that he had climbed into my knitting basket that was full of yarn and decided to perch on it indefinitely.

Naturally, I had to get out the camera and snap a photo of my dog-hen before he decided that nesting time was over.

I couldn’t contain my laughter. I sat there wondering what has possessed him to climb into that basket. He wouldn’t even budge when I tried to move him.

His shenanigans were just another reminder of how much he brightens my day and brings the utmost joy to my life. There are days when I can’t remember what life was like before him. How on Earth did I live for 22 years and not have him with me? It’s inconceivable.

The way he goes mental when I come home, how he licks my tears when I cry, the invisible intruders he barks at on his nightly patrol of the house and the persistent way he scratches at my legs, as if to say “lift me in your arms, now,” these are all moments that I am always going to remember. I can’t bear to think of my life without him, even though the reality is, that that time will come.

But let’s not talk about that now.

Today, Henry the Maltese turns 2-years-old. Two years ago, I drove out to Hemet, Calif., to see a litter of Maltese puppies. It was just him and his brother left. They were both placed in my arms. His brother was sweet yet docile. Henry began to gnaw at my fingers immediately. That’s when I knew that it was meant to be. I drove back two months later and brought him home, where he proceeded to take a nice long piss on my mother’s treasured Persian rug. Oh well.

There is so much to say about Henry. He’s only 6 lbs, but he has more heart than I ever could have imagined. He is fiercely protective of his toys and nothing makes him happier than getting a new one. He loves eating pepper and blueberries and runs circles around the dining room table when he’s excited. When you’re sad, he’s sad. When you’re happy, he’s happy. He wont even think about leaving your side if you’re having a bad day, sacrificing food and water to keep you company.

Last summer, Henry had to have surgery for luxated patellas on both of his knees, which I documented on this site. For such a little dog, he’s been through a lot. He spent almost two months holed up in his crate, with wrappings and stitches and an Elizabethan collar which I detest so much. But he pulled through and although it was difficult for him, it was one of the hardest experiences I went through in my life. It was in those moments of his pain, that I realized what it was like to have and care for children.

Henry is everything I’ve ever wanted and more. I hope you have a good birthday King Henry, I’ll have new toys and a tea saucer full of green bell peppers waiting for you.

Get on board the flashback train, because I’m here to bring you one of the greatest scenes ever created on television. Seriously, Elizabeth Berkley should have won an award for this. This is the finest acting I’ve seen since Angela Lansbury in “Murder, She Wrote.” No seriously, it is. Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, I am filing a complaint with you all. I don’t care if this took place a decade ago, or that “Saved by the Bell” is a TELEVISION show. I do not care, do you hear me? Jesse Spano deserves to be heard! Why? Because she’s so excited, she’s so excited, she’s so scared!

And for added pleasure, here is a re-enactment of Jesse Spano’s caffeine pill freakout, courtesy of me (pseudo-jesse) and Nathalie (pseudo-zac)

• pseudo-zac: Jesse spanno? Is that you?
• psuedo-jesse: Yes its me zac! I HAVE TO PERFORM, you don’t understand. I have to take my caffeine pills.
• pseudo-zac: JESSE! No! What are you doing!
• pseudo-jesse: I HAVE TO SING!!!!!!!!!!!!!
• pseudo-zac: Are you on DRUGS?
• pseudo-jesse: NO!!! I have to sing! I must!
• pseudo-zac: Jesse!! JESSE!!!
• pseudo-jesse: My life depends on it!!!
• pseudo-zac: JESSE! THESE THINGS CAN KILL YOU!!!!!!!
• pseudo-jesse: IM SO EXCITED…IM SO EXCITED!!!! IM SO…SCAREDDDDDDDDDDDDD
• pseudo-jesse: UGH HUH UHUH HUHUH (SOBBING)
• pseudo-zac: It’s ok. Come here. I will help you. I am Zach Morris. LET ME HELP YOU
• pseudo-jesse: AN ANGEL. FROM HEAVEN. With a big grey cellphone and miami vice jacket has come to my aid.
  pseudo-zac: HELP ME HELP YOU.
• pseudo-jesse: Give me my CAFFEINE PILLS!!!

The end. Ah-thank you.

Colorful cupcakes and  baskets of yarn

Dainty teacups and snow covered barns

Swap meets with treasures that make me sing

These are a few of my favorite things

Rainy afternoons and puddles to jump in

Fuzzy alpacas and knitted mittens

Cakes that easily pop out of silver baking tins

These are a few of my favorite things

Vintage bookstores and animal stencils

The smell of newspapers and old fashioned pencils

Window-sill reading and dancing to swing

These are a few of my favorite things

When traffic starts

When it gets too hot

When I’m feeling upset

I simply remember my favorite things

And then I don’t have to fret

After a bout of writer’s block and much thought, I’ve decided the best solution to cure the struggles with feeling insecure about my writing and trying to get published and explore other writing opportunities is quite simple: more writing. It’s sortof like that Pepto Bismol commercial where a girl calls a help center because her friend is having a cherry overload and the customer service rep says the solution is more cherry. Or maybe I watch too much television.

I made some pretty aggressive resolutions this year in terms of my writing and I’m glad I did because they motiviate me to pursue what I love further. It has now been 47 days since the new year began and I am doing my best to balance a freelance writing career with a full-tim job as an editor. Needless to say, it’s difficult. I have published a couple articles online, but nothing gives me more of a thrill than print or a publication that reaches and affects a large number of people in the U.S and abroad.

It has been almost two years that I have graduated school. In my dreams before I left school, I imagined myself as a reporter for a publication like LA Weekly, writing short stories on the side, developing ideas for a novel and inching towards my ultimate goal of writing for a national magazine and the New York Times.

Quite often, life does not work out the way you plan, especially when you’re still wrapped up in the protective cocoon known as school. While I am very thankful I have a job, especially one in the field I studied and have such passion for, I want more. I want to be the young reporter who breaks news stories, who affects people’s lives, who encounters amazing people and new experiences through the articles she writes. I want work long hours and work hard, if it means writing something I’m proud of, if it means writing something that others want to read.

Anyway, enough romanticizing on my soap box for today. I’m sticking to my resolutions. For now, I’ve compiled a list of publications that I’m going to pitch ideas to. Hopefully, one of them (or more I hope) will bite. In the meantime, I’ve made a lot of meaningful connections with writers, journalists, editors and PR people on the amazing phenomenon known as Twitter. I hope to grow and continue these relationships. I’m hopeful and looking forward to accomplishing the first in a series of goal I’ve set out for my life.

“If you believe that some day it’s going to happen, some day it probably will happen. You just have to make sure you’re there when it’s happening, and ideally you’re at the front of the parade, and the principle beneficiary of when it happens, but it’s not a kind of thing where you just sort of sit back and wait.”
- Steve Case

I will be the first to admit that I am a daily checker of gossip blogs, as evidenced in this post. My day can’t start until I see what shenanigans Amy Winehouse is up to on whatever tropical island she’s on, or how Lindsay Lohan and Samantha Ronson got into another fight. Celebrity/pop culture news is fascinating and most of the time, I have a love/hate relationship with it. While I love seeing photos of what my inner adolescent and fan girl likes (Robert Pattinson and Stephen Moyer I’m looking at you), I hate seeing celebrities glorified and/or also ripped to shreds.

This is why I do not visit Perez Hilton anymore. The site and its owner do not need an introduction here from me, as I’m sure everyone and their mother has heard of it. With a Pepto-Bismol pink background and kindergarten like lewd scribblings over celeb photos, Perez Hilton has certainly made a name (and a fortune) for himself with his dainty little blog.

Not only has he gotten the attention of the collective media and public, but he’s managed to become a psuedo-celebrity himself and occasionally posts photos of him and celebrities he encounters at all the soirees he’s been invited to.

While he has recently started to post entries entitled “A Worthwhile Cause” featuring charities and organizations that undoubtedly appreciate and benefit from the exposure, what turned me off from visiting every day to just about once a week is the fact that over the years, months and weeks, it began to represent a lot of things I was against.

While Perez Hilton is a big advocate of equal rights for the gay community, he carries a double standard when it comes to respect for others, having frequently picked on and ridiculed people such as Adam Sandler’s toddler daughter and Rumer Willis, daughter of Bruce Willis and Demi Moore. And for what reason? Their looks.

Teen sensation Miley Cyrus is another victim. She frequently appears on the site, except instead of being referred to as “Miley,” Perez Hilton insists on calling her “Slutty” Cyrus.”A 15-Year-Old Slut Who Is NOT Miley Cyrus,” Hilton writes as a headline, while scribbling the words “Waiting for Rehab” on another photo of the teen.

As a man, even as a gay man, he probably doesn’t understand what that might do to a 15-year-old girl. Nor does he care.

I also don’t understand his thoughts about Amy Winehouse, especially since he was once semi-close to the singer. He now regularly blasts her on his website. Make no mistake, Perez Hilton does have an agenda, especially when it comes to his doppelganger in real life, Paris Hilton and new BFF singer Katy Perry. He only posts positive-slanted entries about them.

Either way, the commentary is mediocre at best. The fact of the matter is that in addition to be being unnecessarily mean, Perez Hilton is the definition of lazy journalism. Just two days ago, he reported that model Kate Moss was pregnant, only to retract the statement one day later. In his most famous incident in the summer of 2007, he announced the death of Cuban President Fidel Castro and went as far as to claim that the news was exclusive to his website. As we all know by now, no such event occurred.

I am by no means a big fan of celebrity journalism, but celebrity or not, there’s this thing called checking your facts and verifying information, two very important components of running a news outlet that he has no concept of.

Way back when, when I was still a semi-fan, I saw Hilton at a restaurant opening. With my best friend in tow, we decided to approach him and tell him that we loved reading his site. But then, we saw him fawning over himself in tow with two assistants and avoiding everyone in sight who wasn’t a celebrity. It was probably at that point that I realized the only thing Perez Hilton is interested in, is becoming a celebrity himself.

The fact still remains however, that it doesn’t matter what I think or what anyone else thinks, Perez Hilton has created a brand that he markets constantly and markets well. He’s had a television program, appeared on countless shows, magazines in newspapers and even has a book deal. I don’t know if the hype around him will last forever, but I know it’s not going to stop anytime soon.

Celebrity and Psuedo-Celebrity gossip sites that I recommend:

Dlisted - For the best commentary and on mainstream and off the wall news, read Michael K.

Oh No They Didn’t - The content is great, but the commentary is priceless. Are you having a bad day? Visit ONTD, because I guarantee you will leave amused.

Go Fug Yourself -I have never seen such beautifully written prose on the fashion mistakes of the rich and famous.