Author Archives: 4evamaria

Advice for My Younger Self

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Hello everyone!

Today, I wanted to focus a little on the things I wish I knew when I was younger. I try my best to impart everything I’ve learned about life to my students, but there are some days that it’s best to just listen. Or simply to not say anything, as strange as it sounds. I’ve always felt that empathy for other people doesn’t have to be a big display- that you can feel the bond of shared experiences, both good and bad, with those around you even if they choose not to speak openly about them. I would like to say some of those things now, bluntly, if that’s okay.

…..

Life is hard. Some days are going to suck, and things will be a lot worse than your failed algebra final, or that no one chose to eat lunch with you today.

There will be people in your life, at some point and for whatever reason, that are not good. It’s up to you what you choose to do with them. From my experience, I will tell you this:

Those “friends” that are making you miserable, you don’t need them.

That guy who isn’t treating you well, you don’t need him either.

Those invisible boundaries and all the mind numbing pressure you put on yourself to succeed, they’re irrelevant. If it’s not helping you now, it won’t help you in the future.

Surround yourself with people who hold you up and give you confidence. They’ll be your family, if you let them.

The people you look up to, the people whose lives you want, are all fighting their own invisible battles. Don’t presume to know what their lives are like, or that they’re somehow easier than yours.

It’s cliché , but your life is exactly the way it’s supposed to be. However, you get to decide what kind of person you want to be. Focus your energies on the things you can change, try to forget about the things and people you can’t.

…

It’s important to say that I’m still working on all this stuff. So perhaps this post is best entitled “Advice to My Younger Self.”

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Just some thoughts for a dreary Tuesday.

Love,

EVA♥

A love letter to one of my favorite cities…

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Dear San Francisco,

I think you’re swell.

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You may not be the biggest, brightest, or most diverse city in the world, but I like you just the same. When I was younger it was my dream to get to know you better, and I have. Even after all these years, there’s still so much to learn about you. There’s always new sights to see, neighborhoods to discover, and delicious things to eat.

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(A beautiful view of Downtown from Potrero Hill)

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(Infamous Mission Dolores Park)

I like that I can take my parents to meet you, and that you almost always make a good impression on my friends. We do need to talk about how grossly expensive your rent is and how smelly you get sometimes. Your hygiene could be improved, and some of those tech guys you hang out with can be a real pain-in-the-ass.

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But I really do love your cooking. You make the best coffee and donuts around. I’m glad I don’t live with you, or else I would weigh 500 pounds.

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(Dynamo Donuts! Chocolate Rose, Caramel de Sel, and Strawberries and Cream)

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(Bombolinis with cream filling at the Ferry Building)

You have some of the best people watching around, and I enjoy how accepting you are of everyone from all walks of life. You can be a little rough around the edges, but you’re full of hidden gems. I love all your different neighborhoods- it’s like twenty little cities in one. If I feel like shopping all day, I can meet you downtown. In the Mission, I can find the best food: Cuban, Italian, Mexican, French, fusion. The people watching and the coffee is always fantastic there. I go the Marina when I want to surround myself with young people, beautiful neighborhoods, or maybe some of the finer things in life. The Haight is colorful and entertaining to explore, and I can find my favorite hot toddy in the Castro, along with the most beautiful views of the city.

So maybe you could call me sometime? Or I could call you? There are other cities for me to explore, and so many things for me to see. I would hate for you to miss out.

Love,

EVA♥

First Fridays.

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Hey everybody! It’s the first Friday of the month!

Usually, this is the time for great goings-on in the East Bay (Drake’s Brewing Company, Oakland Art Murmur), but a lot of these events have unfortunately been canceled due to the rain. As many of you know, California is in the midst of  a drought, so the rain is quite a welcome sight today. And, with the rest of the country dodging the Polar Vortex, us Californians have it pretty good. I admit that we’re grossly spoiled. Another thing that I will gladly admit is that, for some unknown reason, rain seems to send us into a tailspin. People forget how to drive and frantically veer around the highway. Walking to school or work suddenly becomes a game of Frogger (remember that one 80’s babies?). Actually, forget going anywhere altogether. We pretty much barricade ourselves inside. Because you never know when that acid-rain thing is going  to happen, right?

I’ve never been one of those people that inherently loves the rain, but I certainly can appreciate it. I appreciate it’s ability to slow me down a bit, and it always provides an excuse to wear that new coat/pair of boots/chunky knit you’ve been guarding in the back of your closet. I also appreciate the free car wash.

Sometimes the rain is the only thing that cures my restlessness. This weekend, I’m planning on doing some vintage-dress hunting, some cooking/fridge cleaning, writing, movie-watching, and cocktail sipping. Ok, maybe throw in some dancing around in my socks à la”Risky Business.” Why else do you live alone?!

IMG_0811(I spy with my little eye, a little Hyperbole and a Half)

IMG_0802( I Are Writing. See!)

What are you all up to?

Happy weekend!

EVA♥

The Sad Jeans.

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Hey y’all. (Am Southern today)

I’m sure you have all heard the expression ‘skinny jeans.’

Now, I don’t mean skinny jeans as in the kind you have to peel off your body like a banana; the popular leggings-masquerading-as-denim kind. I’m talking about the skinny jeans that you save in the back of your closet, your “goal weight” jeans, as it were. The jeans that you fit in in high school and will shove yourself back into one day. Well, I don’t have a pair of skinny jeans. I have something I like to call “sad jeans.”

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Sad jeans are the jeans I fit into on those days I’ve decided that eating is for wussies. Days when I’m too sad about life to function, and my best friends become frosting with a spoon sticking out of it and bottle of champagne.

Now, being as my usual body type is close to stick figure with absurd boobs comically stuck on the front, if I have too many of these days, I will comically deflate, and the only pants that will fit me are my sad jeans. Don’t get me wrong, just because I call them my sad jeans doesn’t mean that they look sad. There are no suspicious stains or holes. They are not over-sized and don’t drag on the ground behind me. They are the darkest, tightest, spanx-looking jeans I could find, so low rise that the fly measures under two inches. (Note that if I am having a regular day and wear sad jeans, things get really uncomfortable fast). Sad jeans are so tight they are like a big hug. They say to me “It’s okay if you’re lonely, because I’m here, and I make your flat butt look good.” Throw on your favorite lipstick and you’re ready to go. Never mind that I can only wear sad jeans when all of my other jeans need to be scrunched up around my hips with a belt in order to stay up.

The good thing is is that sad jeans have not made an appearance in my life for quite a while, although they do make an occasional show on laundry day. As Stephen Chbosky put it: “So this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I’m still trying to figure out how that could be.”

There are some days when it’s easy to be carefree, days where you can buy flowers, and bake a cake for yourself. Visit a new city and see all the different faces and places. And some days where it’s not so easy. But, for me, that’s what altogether too much eyeliner and a sharp outfit is for. When in doubt, bust out the sad jeans and start being a little kinder to yourself.

Love,

EVA♥

Five Things

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Hey everybody!

It’s Five Things Wednesday already! This week has been particularly exciting for me, not really because of any epic goings-on, but simply because I’ve been reading/writing my pants off. Oh, and you know that little button on my side-bar over there? The one that says follow? If you click it, amazing things will happen. Puppies will fall from the sky and I will bake you a cake and personally deliver it to your house.*

*I unfortunately can’t guarantee that this exact thing will happen, but I can say that you will be my favorite. : )

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(Nutella Banana bread, courtesy of the fantastic Joanna Goddard and her blog, A Cup of Jo. And Zoë Bakes)
Speaking of cake, it’s World Nutella Day! What better way to celebrate than to put your nutella in. a. cake? My mind is blown.
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(“Shrimp Dumpling in Rabbit Shape” from Hang Ah Tea Room in SF. Look at the little ears!)
I don’t know what it is about this colder (I use this term loosely) weather that has me obsessively thinking about dim sum. Admittedly, I was at first totally put off by the idea of having such savory food for breakfast, but add some green tea, and it just feels right. It’s quite the opposite of my usual morning routine (carbs + coffee) so it feels like a refreshing reset.
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(My favorite drink, at one of my favorite local cafés)
I had a meet-up this week that has me quite excited about life, in general. I’m working towards filling my life with the people and the work I love. It’s too precious to waste doing things you don’t want to do.
(Ellie Goulding “Tessellate”)
Recent song discovery. Love the video as well; Paris in black and white is a classic.
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(Best quote. That is all.)
No mud. No lotus.
EVA♥

Horrifying Moments in My Life as a Dancer

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Hi All!

Remember when I used to be a ballerina? The title of this post is entirely self-explanatory.

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Now that I think about it, I review most of these moments quite frequently, usually as cautionary or self-esteem building tales for my students. And I mean building their self-esteem. They did quite the opposite for me, but I lived through them, so it’s really not so bad.

The Time I Fell. Really Hard.

I was a freshman in college, recently accepted to the dance program with zero idea as to what I was doing with myself. It was during the 8am ballet class- I had new block-like pointe shoes strapped to my feet and was already exhausted. We were doing some sort of waltzing thing that I loved, but the moment I took my first step, I hit a slick spot in the floor and my standing leg flew out from under me with enough force to send me completely horizontal before hitting the ground. Winded, I looked up at everyone’s ankles around me, and when the pianist didn’t stop playing, I dragged myself out of the incoming dancers’ way. Not only could I not breathe and was mortified, I was now crawling across the floor like Herbert the Pervert’s dog from Family Guy. I was more embarrassed than anything that day, but when I woke up the next morning feeling like someone was standing on my chest, I ended up at the student health clinic having x-rays done to ensure that I had not cracked any ribs. Turns out, I had bruised them significantly enough for me to not be able to move my torso for a week or two (or breathe without huffing), but was essentially fine.

The Time I Forgot Everything.

I think this is the moment that is most relieved as a teaching tool. I frequently ask my student’s “Ok…what’s going to happen to you if you forget your choreography? Yeah, nothing.” Every dancer I have ever spoken with has had this moment at some point in their life. Mine came right after a barrage of academic college finals, when it was finally time to present my solo that I had been working on for the last month in choreography class. I had spent hours staring at scantrons, and somehow, when I got onstage my brain was not able to transition from global economics back to dance quick enough. With my peers and the entire dance faculty watching, I got through the first 16 counts of my solo and stopped. I came to a grinding halt and stood staring at everyone. The music was kindly restarted for me, and I was prompted to take a few deep breaths and begin again. I did. Around the same time, I stopped again. My piece was bumped to the bottom of the program and I walked stoically into the hall to force myself to regurgitate what I had spent weeks working on. I had the option of improvising my entire solo, but I was so furious at myself at this point that I had to preserve my pride and remember everything. And I did, with a few extra embellishments. I could almost laugh about it afterwards, as my classmates came up to me one-by-one and regaled me with their own stories. It did make it a bit easier, especially knowing that my forgetfulness was not out of my being a “bad dancer,” but simply being mentally overwhelmed with projects at the time. Anyway, dancers are way tougher than they look.

The Worst Audition. Ever. 

I auditioned for a local ballet company back in the summer of 2010. I saw a few familiar faces, which was nice, but right as I walked in with an index card pinned to my chest (“Number 6, Thank you very much.”), I saw a face that I recognized all too well. At my studio, we once referred to her as “The Evil.” I’m not even joking. My ballet teacher from childhood, known for her freezing, bony hands and looks of deep disgust/disapproval, was sitting at the side of the room along with other members of a panel. I thought that maybe if I didn’t make eye contact with her, she would go away. She did not, and my avoidance was futile and made me look like a crazy person. Not only did I have to feel her eyes boring holes into my back as I danced, but the studio used for the audition was intended for modern, slick enough that you couldn’t find purchase in your satin shoes if you coated the bottoms in chewing gum.  I watched dancers drift and slip, and decided for the first time in my life that I was deliberately going to dance half-assed so I could get the hell out of there faster. When my number was not called to stay, I grabbed my things and all but ran to the parking lot in my tights and leotard. I remember having to consciously walk slowly and look disappointed as I left so as not to arouse suspicion. As I jogged to my car, I couldn’t help to feel like I was being followed, but my fear had manifested itself in some sort of bizarre, giddy adrenaline. I realized that, as much as I loved ballet, there are some things I just won’t put up with.

Love,

EVA♥

I Woke Up Like This

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To echo Beyonce: I woke up like this. That’s my story and I’m sticking with it.

I know, I know, we’ve all had those mornings where one look in the mirror is enough to horrify you back in to bed. The static bed head, the puffy eyes, the pillow creases, topped off with a vacant expression that says: “YES! I can’t wait to go to work today.” The last year or so, I’ve become all too familiar with this. Let me preface this that I somehow had to make myself look alert and put together at 6:00am. In order to survive the endless early mornings, I slapped together a little morning routine that I did not, and have not, strayed from since. This is the once place in my life that I am admittedly a bit OCD about. I need my morning routine, things don’t feel the same without it. (And everything has to go in a specific order. Strange, I know, but when you’re sleep-walking through the morning, it comes in handy.)

Step 1: Basic Hygiene. Fun things like brushing one’s teeth, washing one’s face, applying deodorant and sunscreen. These are mandatory, I don’t care how early it is.

Step 2:  I turn to my fabulous makeshift vanity. You are correct, it happens to be on top of my toilet tank.

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Products employed in Step 1: Sunscreen and lip balm. Also pictured is one of my favorite scents: Philosophy’s Unconditional Love.

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Please disregard the hole in the wall- I have no idea why it’s there. It’s typically covered by the empty Baijiu bottle that I now employ, rather futilely, as a brush holder. 

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As you can tell, I am a rather fanatic collector of lip products and also enjoy more than my fair share of Lush. More on that later.

Here’s where you can get really creative! If you’re awake enough, that is. For Step 2, I typically use the below pictured products:

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To cut some corners, I enjoy using a BB cream. I can haphazardly apply this and not worry about looking unnatural. I am also unusually attached to my Mac Select Cover Up (I wear the shade NW20). If I had to pick only one product to apply, this would be it. I like to follow this up with NYC Sunny Bronzer, Tarte Amazonian Clay blush in “Exposed,” (for the most natural flush), and Mac’s In for a Treat PearlMatte face powder. I had no intention of buying this, but I stumbled upon one of the last few at the Berkeley Mac and couldn’t leave it. Who can resist those pressed flowers, especially when they give you a lovely glow?

I have to give a nod to Urban Decay’s Naked 2 Pallet; I was wary of purchasing this at first, but it has proven itself well worth the price. I use it every day, sometimes twice a day, and it is very well-loved. I usually top everything off with a bit of Mac’s “Jest” eyeshadow in the inner corner of my eyes to brighten everything up, as well as some of Clinque’s Lash Doubling Mascara.

If I’m feeling fancy, I’ll throw on some of my favorite liner from Mac (in “Prunella,” a dark eggplant shade), along with a quick swipe of a lip product. My current favorite happens to be one of the Maybelline Baby Lips in Pink Glow that I purchased while in Auckland. Apparently this is not yet available outside of NZ/Australia, but it’s one of those self-adjusting shades that looks incredibly natural on.

Step 2 typically takes me a little over 5 minutes to complete. I tend to lean toward the more natural end of the spectrum when it comes to beauty/makeup application. Growing up I was never allowed to wear makeup, so when I did, it had to be as indiscernible as possible. The strict upbringing didn’t allow for a ton of fun, but at least it saved me from looking back on year book photos of myself covered in mismatched foundation and raccoon eyes. I guess everything has a silver lining, even with less than glamorous beginnings.

EVA ♥

Valentine’s Day: An Excuse to Eat More Chocolate

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Ah, Valentine’s Day. No matter what we call you (Single’s Awareness Day, S.A.D, just-another-Friday) you’re a day of high expectation. If you’re happily coupled your partner better put on a good show: thoughtful gifts, reservations at your favorite restaurant, etc.

A quick tip:

Gentlemen: avoid the joke card. Avoid it like the plague, it never goes over well and is confusing, at best.

Ladies: buy yourself that thing you really wanted. Jewelry, flowers, whatever! Don’t wait for someone to come along and give it to you. It’s how I ended up with these lovely things. And, if you’re me, find someone who appreciates you enough to deserve this gem. Thank you, Allie Brosh.

Back to the subject at hand: disregarding my relationship status, I’ve made it a Valentine’s tradition over the last few years to look fantastic, get together with some friends and do something indulgent. Now, I’ve noticed there are plenty of sites out there suggesting date night ideas, typical pink-and-red events crawling with besotted couples. But, fear not, dear reader. I have put together my list of things to do on Valentine’s day. For those of you looking for something a bit…different.

19722_207959772682904_1773427100_n(A Pixie and A Drunken Ballerina)

One of my favorite choices for the evening has to be American Cupcake in SF. This place is all kinds of wonderful/ridiculous. And, yes, if you were wondering, the caption above denotes the drinks pictured. The Pixie involves champagne, violet liqueur, and pixie stix. The Drunken Ballerina is simply champagne, jazzed up with some massive sprinkles, with a ballerina on top. These are flanked by a cotton candy and bubblegum cupcake. For those of you with less of a sweet tooth, they also serve dinner, and have whimsical “flights” of either beer or wine accompanied by mini cupcakes.

Should technicolor sweets and drinks not be your thing, never fear. Here’s a list of foolproof combos to make any Valentine’s day special:

Your favorite Hole-in-the-Wall + Latest horror movie

The local pub + Board games (in my case: The Hob Nob and Cards Against Humanity make for a fun night!)

The Trashy-on-Purpose Bar + … (Let the games begin!)

If you’re in the SF Bay Area, I highly recommend Butter. This place has everything: drinks served in paper bags, fried food, and 90’s television.

A Microbrewery + Burgers & Fries

An All-American choice. Lucky 13 in Alameda has a big place in my heart, and with a quality burger from Scolari’s next-door, you can’t go wrong. For a slightly healthier option, venture to Beer Revolution in Oakland and grab a Southern fried tofu sandwich at Souley Vegan.

…and 

If all else fails, crack open a bottle of champagne, bake some cookies, and play hostess. Nothing like a good group of friends to make an evening special.

Ladies: Be sure to wear those crazy, man-repelling things you own as well. All of them. At the same time. I won’t judge you.

Love,

EVA♥

Occupational Hazards/Kids are hilarious…

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Hello all!

This post is long overdue and highly requested- I’m going to preface this by saying that it will most likely be one of many.

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On some days, working with kids can be exhausting. They can involve “puddles,” runny noses, and attitudes. I’m sure any parent or teacher knows this all too well. On the other hand, it can also be extremely rewarding and so much fun. 95% of the time, it is the latter.   So, I wanted to take some time and share with you some of the highlights of my teaching career. Now, this post isn’t so much about watching my students progress, or getting misty over them growing up. It’s more along the lines of documenting the amusing word vomit that comes out of them on a regular basis.

Now, I touched on the ever-flattering question I get asked frequently: “Miss Eva, are you a kid? Or a grown-up?” Their curious little minds can’t help but pry further. I was 14 when I was first asked if I had any children of my own. I had to make the offending little dancer repeat herself multiple times before I could even begin to grasp what she was asking. I have also been asked the following, usually in rapid succession:

“How OLD are you?” (As in: you’ve been dancing for 20 years? You must be friggin’ ancient.)

“Are you married?”

“Do you at least have a boyfriend??” 

A little redheaded dancer came running in to class one day and asked me: “Miss Eva! When’s the BLAY class gonna start?” Bless their little speech impediments.

This same dancer once forgot my name and chose to refer to me instead as “Ballerina-teacher.” I gladly accept this title.

As is tradition, every winter we put out our vast collection of nutcrackers for the kids to admire. Upon missing them, one dancer asked our director “Hey Miss Michaela! Wherethecrackers?” It took us 10 minutes to figure out that she was not asking for food, but inquiring as to the location of the nutcrackers.

Kids also frequently enjoy volunteering information at random. In the middle of one of my classes a little girl once blurted “My mom’s hair isn’t really blonde!” Like she had been dying to tell someone, and could no longer hold it in. They love to tell on their classmates/parents.

“Susie isn’t here because she had to go to the doctor to have her independence out.”

Appendix. Appendix. I would be frightened if her parents had her independence medically removed.

“My daddy calls me ‘Hot Dog.'” (This was in response to me asking if she had a preferred name that she goes by.)

“My mommy’s boobies are bleeding!” To be fair, mommy had just had a baby. But I believe the other children in class are now scarred for life. Because your boobies can bleed.

“I’ve always wanted to be a dancer, but I’ve gotta be honest. Lately, it’s looking more like journalist or pop-star.” They have lofty career aspirations, don’t they?

One of my favorite classics include a little boy we had years ago, who had obviously just learned the difference between boys and girls. When prompted to go into the men’s room at break-time, he shouted:

“IS THAT BECAUSE I HAVE A PENIS??”

When this was affirmed, he followed this up with: “Good, because I don’t like looking at vaginas.”

…..

To be continued.

(Happy Friday!)

EVA♥

Five Things

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Hello All! I must say, I’ve missed my “Five Things” posts. I write to you from the comfort of my home, sipping a big cup of PG Tips tea. Just so you know, I take my tea like I take my coffee, I’m afraid: strong, dark, and with lots of cream and sugar.

IMG_0773(Delicious tea in my favorite mug. I may no longer be in Hawaii, but I sure can pretend.)

Another one of my favorite teas has to be Republic of Tea’s Ginger Peach black tea. I drank it in abundance growing up, and, when my parents left me in Santa Barbara for college, a big cup of it was the one thing that made me feel instantly at home.

IMG_0639(It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s Maddie! Someone can’t hold still long enough for me to take a decent photo of her. She will also lick you to death if you’re not careful.)

Speaking of feeling at home, my new favorite doggie seems to be very happy in her new home with my good friend Rachel. Despite the fact that Madeleine is her brother’s (now roommate’s) dog, I think she likes us best. Maybe.

IMG_0666(Sushirrito. Is it sushi or is it a burrito?)

Ladies and gentlemen, you are looking at the Geisha’s kiss. Tuna, avocado, cucumber, tomago, and a variety of vaguely Mexican/Japanese ingredients make this creative thing. I highly recommend, so do check it out next time you’re in SF and in the mood for a culinary adventure.

IMG_0772(The Brooklyn, at Dogwood in Oakland)

Before anyone asks, that is a homemade brandied cherry on a stick. Bar Dogwood is this week’s “new-to-me” discovery. It’s small, cozy, and serves some of the best/fanciest grilled cheese sandwiches ever. I ate it before I could take a picture of it, and the tiny pickles it was served with.

IMG_0769(My idea of fun on a Saturday)

Yes, I am breaking in a new pair of pointe shoes. In my house. I have quite bit of sewing/doctoring to do, as these are not the maker of Freed I usually wear, and they’re a bit on the narrow side. But, there’s nothing to make you feel more accomplished as a dancer than beating a pair of shoes to a pulp, busting out a new pair, and starting over.