Me Write Pretty One Day

Merry Christmas!!! Yea, I said it!

2011-12-22T14:46:00.000-03:00

What dirty little words I just said. And you thought I was a nice, proper girl. YOU WERE WRONG. So what were these offensive words I said?? MERRY. CHRISTMAS.

Now, if you feel anything like I do, you're wondering what is so offensive about that? However, if you're one of the OTHERS, you're already offended by this blog post. I started thinking just the other day when I wished someone a Happy Hanukkah . I happened to overhear someone say that Hanukkah was about to begin and I happen to know that this kid is Jewish so I wished him a happy start of Hanukkah. He said, aw thanks and boom- the conversation was over.

But that got me thinking about others things I'd seen and overheard recently. You know, people being offended by Christmas music or well wishers and I started wondering what the big deal is. I guarantee you that no one is trying to be offensive when they're dashing out the door and shout out a Merry Christmas to you. It's not like they're calling you an ugly, dirty little name or making inappropriate mom jokes. No. What's really going on is that people are in a great spirit and are wishing you that same great spirit. OH MY GOODNESS- OFFENSIVE.

Terrible, ugly, I know. Now you're thinking you don't celebrate Christmas and why don't they respect your beliefs??? I see several options here. A) They don't know your beliefs. B) They're just paying tribute to their own beliefs. Now if someone wished me a Happy Hanukkah I'd be so angry I'd give them my best scrooge face and bahambug! and cold shoulder. LIE. I'd do no such thing. Despite the fact that I'm not Jewish, I'd say thank you with a big smile and wish them the same. Because what they just said to me was, in my opinion, thoughtful and not thoughtless and I appreciate that someone took time out of their day to send a kind gesture my way. I'm not even a practicing Catholic- heck- I haven't even had my first communion (GASP!!) and I've never actually read a bible (more gasp!!) and yet, I still wish people a Merry Christmas. Not because I'm saying you must go out and celebrate the birth of Christ or ELSE but because I think there's something magical about wishing people a merry and joyous time. Is that so wrong??

On the list of holidays I find offensive, Christmas is towards the bottom of my list. Can we all stop for a minute and discuss COLUMBUS DAY. I find this holiday extremely offensive and antiquated. Happy Columbus Day! Um really? Happy day that someone strange man 'discovered' an inhabited land and led the massacre and destruction of a previously peaceful people?? Should I add that it was in part MY PEOPLE. And yet, you get a day off work, I can't go to the post office and I'm supposed to honor this man's memory.

I even see some controversy in Thanksgiving (what became of those Indians, after all?) but I think everyone needs to take a step back and breath next time they're offended by a "Merry Christmas." I mean you no harm non-celebrator. What I truly mean is "have a wonderful day and enjoy your free vacation time no matter what you do with it." I'm hardly trying to be offensive or insensitive. Really. I promise. So have a Merry Christmas, from the bottom of my well-intentioned heart.

Some people feel their clock ticking, I feel this.

2011-05-24T14:15:00.004-03:00

I have SUCH foster envy. My imaginary puppy bearing hips are yearning to have a bunch of little puppies and nurse them to health and prepare them for their forever home. Teaching them the wise ways of the world... no potty inside the house, no eating the furniture or forever owner's shoes. Train them to wag their tail and give their BEST I'm sorry puppy eyes if any of the above happen. Show them that the fastest way into someone's heart is with incessant licking and tail wagging. Especially the licking.

And every time I read this amazing blog, I get such foster envy. But my little apartment, perfect for the three of us, is a little small for 3 + 1 more. And so I stalk other fosters instead. And try so hard to avoid the pages of the Humane Society, where countless of little pit puppies are waiting for someone to love them. I swear, if I had a house, I'd bring them all home.

But those who can't do, teach? Or rather, volunteer at the Humane Society? I've been wanting to do this forever but my schedule just didn't allow for volunteer orientation. But I decided, enough is enough. I'm foregoing my HIP HOP class on Sunday to attend orientation so I can get in there already!! I can't wait to pick up poop and clean out kennels in hopes that soon, I can also go on walks and give lots of endless love to all those puppy pound dogs. I'm looking forward to the adventure and I'm sure I'll blog more about it when the adventure starts. (Also look for my insightful commentary on my mad hip hop skillz. With a z. SkillZ.

It must be on everyone's mind.

2011-05-19T00:29:00.002-03:00

As if on cue- apparently it's bike to work week, culminating with bike to work day on Friday. Now, as mentioned, I already bike to work so yay for me (self pat on back).

But as though someone with magical powers knew I was blogging about this very issue (semi-related), they have posted an article filled with bike safety reminders. Thank you Washington Post. To read the article, click here.

I think both the article and I stress that the most important thing is for everyone to just be aware. Stay safe guys.

The Things People Do When No One Is Looking

2011-05-10T23:02:00.003-03:00

I have been a witness to a crime!! Several crimes! Unbelievable! Call the police!! Ring the alarm!!

Alright, now that the dramatics are over, we'll get straight to the true story of how an innocent girl from California witnessed what some might call a negligible crime but I will argue reveals the true nature of people and somehow, what is wrong with the world today.

The crime: u-turns on RED lights.

Why I care: The culprits nearly hit me!!

But I'm not convinced that this little fact (of being almost hit) is truly relevant to my larger point here so I will- in one short paragraph- remind all of you to always be aware of the obstacles you might encounter while driving. Whenever I ride my bike around town, I remember this video game simulation that we played in drivers ed (over 10 years ago now). The driver of the vehicle had to maneuver around lights, stop signs, bicyclist, kids running out to get the ball. I truly feel as though I am the person in the that simulation trying to stay alive every time I ride my bike. So- drivers, BE AWARE.

Now that my PSA is over (and my paragraph failed to be as short as I intended), I move on to the real subject of this particular blog.

I have seen all sorts of red-light runners. People in the far right lane, who make a u-turn, across the left hand lane; people that just don't even bother stopping for the red and assume the roads are empty. People u-turning across double yellow lines and past a red light...

Why do they do this? Well, I've put a lot of thought into this. First, I should start by mentioning that I ride my bike home between the hours of 11pm and 1am. Two am last Friday when I had a hellacious night (hellacioius bad not hellacious drunk fun). Once again, I digress. Point: there is hardly anyone on the road at this time of the night and so people think oh heck, no one is around- there is no need to stop at this light. They also think no one is around to catch them. And so they can get away with running a red light at midnight.

Now, there are several problems with this. First, let's assume the worst- what if that car HAD hit me running that red light? Such an innocent running-of-the-light-when-no-one-is-looking would have turned into the-worst-mistake-of-their-lives. Not to mention what it would do to my short, semi-meaningless life.

But then I got to thinking. What else do these people do when they think no one is looking? Innocent yet disgusting things like picking their nose and then wiping it on the couch? Yuck. But not life-altering. Do they beat their pets? Their children? Swig and extra swig or two before work? Before hitting the road? Sure, you can argue that I'm being overly dramatic but I don't think so. The bottom line is that the type of people that are willing to run red lights because they think no one is going to catch them are probably the same people cheating on their taxes, eating your clearly labeled lunch from the office fridge, or skipping out on their share of the work load because no one will notice. I'm just saying. These people can't be trusted. Mark my words. And be extra careful when YOU'RE driving at night, because someone else isn't.

It all started with a pit bull named Leche.

2011-03-31T12:17:00.004-03:00

People who don't eat meat are called vegetarians; those that don't bother with any animal products are vegans; and of course, now we have pescatarians, which I've always thought was silly but these are the people that only eat fish. I always wondered why they can't say I only eat fish and why we're so obsessed with labeling everything. But that's neither here nor there (Didn't I already blog about that?). What do you call someone who doesn't want to eat abused animal meat because they love their pit bull? Well, that's me. I love my pit and now I don't want to eat meat. Whattttt?

Let me back up. Leche walked into my life approximately a year and a half ago. Or rather, I walked into her life as she was the one sitting at the shelter waiting for a forever home. It wasn't love at first sight, she was a terribly cute pup but she seemed a little crazy (in that hyper, puppy sense) and I worried that she would be really hard to handle. But fate brought us together and out of the three shelters we visited, they were the only shelter to call us back and give us the amazing news aspiring parents want to hear: she's all yours.

And then there was no turning back. I fell in love with this ball of white fur in a way I had never fallen in love before. I know some of you must think I'm crazy but it's true- she is the love of my life and I'm not afraid to sound like one of those crazy dog people. I mean, I don't dress her in frilly sweaters (hearts for Valentine's Day, ornaments for Christmas, etc) or give her funky hair cuts so I feel that I'm still within the normal confines of mom-pup love.

But I am digressing. Pit bulls face an uphill battle. It's hard to imagine that a breed once so loved and cherished by Americans everywhere is now so poorly regarded by many people- mainly because of the bad press given to the breed by a few (not worth mentioning) individuals that used this loyal breed to dog fight for entertainment. And having newly fallen in love with the pit bull breed, I became very involved in the cause for justice for these wonderful dogs. I started reading about the abuse these poor pups faced (statistically, they are one of the most abused breeds) and the challenges owners, pit bull lovers, and animal activists face in trying to get justice for pits.

Then there was Patrick. I saw this article and took one look at his almost lifeless body- nothing but skin and bones- and I started crying. Really. Like a baby. How could anyone be so inhumane? So callous?

And this is where I made the leap. I started processing my thoughts. Thinking about how I can't stand for this sort of treatment of pits. Or any dog. Or any animal. It was both a slow process of realization and a sudden fire of thoughts and ideas- it was like the little light went off in my head and I thought back to the movie my bf made me watch (Food Inc.)- the images of all the poor chickens crammed into tiny little cages, living in their own waste and not even able to to flap their little wings (I realize they won't actually fly). And also the pigs and cattle living in similar situations all so I could get my beloved bucket of fried chicken or buffalo wings or juicy burger. How can I stand up against the mistreatment of pit bulls but condone the inhumane treatment of farm animals? If one animal is worth the fight, isn't the other? Don't get me wrong- I'm not getting all righteous and preachy and I do realize that there have been people saying this all along.

But this was something that hit me like a bus- realizing I was letting the abuse continue. That somehow I was saying it was different when in reality, I just don't see how cramming 100 chickens in a coup for 10 is any better than starving Patrick to the brink of death. And so I started rethinking my lifestyle. I don't have any problem with eating meat- I love a good piece of bacon and can't imagine giving up carnitas or even a good steak. So I can't be a vegetarian. Then what can I do?

I ask again- what do you call someone that only eats humanely raised meat? My answer: a dog lover. Because that's how this started for me. We already get our meat and milk delivered (most of the time) from a local farm but I discussed it with my boyfriend, told him about the struggle I've been having reconciling my thoughts and he was just happy I finally saw what he saw (because of course, he's always been enlightened :)). And so starting next week, our household will only consume meat or animal products (eggs, milk, etc) that come from farms with commitment to the ethical treatment of animals. That I can control. Eating out, however, is much harder. But this is phase one. Phase two will be me giving up some of my favorite foods (yes, that does include Popeyes) and opting to only eat meat from restaurants that subscribe to this same philosophy. It's a slow transformation but one I am firmly committed to and it all started with a pit bull named Leche.

Going Stag

2011-03-16T23:55:00.004-03:00

Urgh I can't believe it has been so long since I last wrote. I feel like I haven't had much to say- or rather I haven't had a whole lot of inspiration. And I'm fairly certain that my blog has a following of one (that one being myself) so it's not like I've been leaving my fans hanging.

But today, I arrived at my cozy little apartment in such a great mood after a slightly sweaty bike ride home and I felt inspired to write about a small, somewhat irrelevant conversation I had with a friend today. We were at the park with the two pups- the love of my life Leche and his roommate's dog. We do this often, perhaps 2 to 3 times a week. Only now the weather is turning so pleasant that I revel in my time with Leche at the park. I asked him the time- I try to take her for at least an hour- and he asked me why I can't just look at my phone. Well, I never bring my phone on walks. Just my pup, her leash, a toy or two, and of course, her waste receptacles (more often known as poo bags). He harped on me that I should bring my phone and I was quick to respond that I actually always intentionally left my phone at home.

And as I peddled my way home from work today, marveling at the perfectly chilled spring air, I recalled this conversation and started thinking about why I never take my phone during me and pup time.

You read about it over and over- today's society is obsessed with being connected. And it is so true. And we have severe ADD about it. I read an article once that we spend a ridiculously small amount of time on each web page and during each session, we click on an incredibly large amount of sites. So if you're anything like me, you browse one page after the other until something actually catches our eyes. And of course, now it's even worse because we all have a smartphone or an iPad or- SOMETIMES EVEN BOTH.

I became obsessed with being connected- always knowing what's going on in DC or on FB. My phone only made it worse. Only now my phone is half functioning so I've started to be slightly less attached. My home button doesn't work and I'm holding out for the iPhone 5- you have no idea how important your home button is until it's gone. Really.

Regardless, I digress. So walk time became me time. An opportunity to completely lose myself in one of my favorite things- playing with my puppy. I love watching her play because of that pure innocence she has, similar to how some people love watching babies sleep. I love watching her puppy pounce and her waggy tail and the way her jowls shake in the wind when she's taking off after another pup. She's the happiest creature in the world and I love being a part of it and making that crazy tail wag. Now, I could dedicate an entire blog site to how much I love my pup and pits in general, but this particular post is more about how I love being disconnected.

It turns out, I never miss much. When I get back from my hour long walk, I go back online and absolutely nothing has changed. I'm not sure why I expect things to be different in an hours time, but somehow, I always do. We always feel that time flies by but when we stop and think about it, it actually goes by slowly. Change is a gradual process.

And to be frank, I find it annoying when my friend is on his phone during our park hour. I wonder what can't possibly wait til he gets back, what text message is so important or what phone call so dramatic that he has to stop talking to me mid-sentence and answer his phone.

My bottom line is that leaving my phone behind for that one hour a day makes me realize how un-important it is to be so attached at all times- especially when it distracts me from the things that do matter- like my pup and my bf.

I guess my actual real point is to tell you that it's ok- put your phone in your purse during dinner. Sleep with your phone in the other room. Play with your pup or your child. Maybe even read a book undisturbed for one hour. You might find that you like it. In the meantime, I'm going to go play with my pup some more (I lie- I'm going to go surf the web and call an old friend. Shhhhhh!)

Hot, sexy fireman fantasy

2010-05-07T17:17:00.003-03:00

We all have a preconceived notion that firefighters are naturally very fit and incredibly sexy. And while this may be true in some cases (ask me about my FDNY encounter of 2005), I've noticed more and more that the fire fighters I see tend to be larger, overweight men. Now, I'm not here to take up the battle on fitness and obesity- I'll leave that to the experts. But my boyfriend and I would had the observation that our local firefighters were a little less hot sexy fireman and a little more... unhealthy. We just thought it was a little ironic at first but then we began to increasingly wonder if there are existing physical requirements for fire fighters and wondered what type of danger their lack of physical fitness posed not only to themselves, but to the general public.

It reminded me of something a visiting army officer said to my class one day during graduate school. He was talking about the role of the military (which is a whole other blog) but said that his only concern was whether or not a 130 pound woman would be able to lift his wounded body of 200 pounds out of danger, should he become injured. Now again, I could go on and on about this but won't. But this type of similar thought crosses my mind every time I see an unhealthy looking firefighter (or cop for that matter).

I decided in my infinite boredom to look do some internet searching and see if there are physical requirements. I mean, I would imagine so, right? While I didn't get very far and now have to run off to work, I did see this gem of a quote in an article published in Fire Engineering.

Despite the fact that firefighters’ jobs require vigorous physical activity under extreme conditions and present the stress of urgent life-threatening situations, studies indicate a high prevalence of sedentary lifestyles, obesity, hypertension, dyslipidemia, certain malignancies, and chronic musculoskeletal complaints. Firefighters generally have lower physical fitness than workers in other hazardous occupations, including police officers and construction workers.

Thoughts? Concerns?

High School Reunions

2010-05-07T16:45:00.002-03:00

Ok so anyone that's known me for... well the past ten years, knows that I've always been uber excited about my impending ten year high school reunion. Yes, I was actually one of those girls that wanted to get dressed up and actually see people I was friends with (or not) ten years ago.

But now that the clock has struck 2010 and my ten year is upon me/the other 600 now adults I graduated with, I kinda find myself caring a little less. Ok, a lot less.

It suddenly dawned on me that I wasn't entirely sure why I was itching to go to my ten year reunion so much. Did I miss my best friends? Uh, didn't I just talk to them last week? I mean, sure I still have a few good friends from hs but my best friends are mostly the girls I lived with for four years in college or met in the dorms (Griffiths!!). Do I want to hear how everyone succeeded (or failed) in life? Do I actually care? I mean, I don't even know what half of my good friends do (it's the Chandler Bing problem)... why does it matter what people I used to know ten years ago do now? Do I want to see their families and kids? ABSOLUTELY not. Haha sorry but I just don't love kids. I don't make people hang out with my lovable and insanely cute puppy- don't make me hang out with your kids. I'm sure they're great and all. But no, this definitely isn't it.

Also, did I actually love high school? It's been ten years so my memory is a little skewed/gone at this point and I can't be certain.

Let's see... I managed to graduate with decent grades and go on to love school so much that I indebted myself $554654354 to be in school for SIX more years so... check. I must have enjoy classes.

I had awesome friends? Hmm come to think of it there were a few gems in the mix (including my PartnerInCrime that still gets me into trouble) but I also had some really crappy friends. That's the problem with being 14-18- most of us don't quite yet know how to be a good friend (let alone a decent person) so we'll give this one mixed reviews.

Did I win some cheerleading competition or was I a soccer star? That's a definite "X" (w/ sound effects ERRRRRRR). My mom wouldn't let me do sports and while I did win some ASB type of award, who remembers that?? But yes, I did have a blast on retreats and stomping my little heart out (sometimes on horse poo) but I always had this unrequited dream of being head cheerleader and dating the captain of the football team with blond hair and a name like Brad (you can thank Sweet Valley High books for this obsession). I think this is why I'm still obsessed with the sport of cheerleading despite the fact that I never became a pep filled, spanks wearing adolescent girl. How obsessed? I've seen all FOUR Bring It On movies. Multiple times. (head now hanging in shame). We'll give this category a half check (can I do that?).

After all that INSIGHTFUL and DEEP analysis, I'm still not sure if I loved high school or not. I mean, I did move first 500 miles away to the lush green campus of Cal and then clear across the country to get as away as possible from Temecula so I want to lean towards no but yet, my heart still wants to scream out YES I LOVED HIGH SCHOOL AND I'M NOT ASHAMED TO ADMIT IT.

But yet... I didn't? I don't know. I'm going to debate this for the next few months while I prep to join my class at our reunion (if it ever happens *ahem*). Part of it seems so pretentious to get dressed up and pack ourselves into a room with people we may or may not remember, pretending we care what we're all doing now and reminiscing about our high school years (which I swear is when I peaked) but it's done over and over every year by people eager to relive those four years if only for a short night... so there must be something to it right?

Today I Get to...

2010-04-08T16:06:00.003-03:00

I have always considered myself to be an optimist. I generally always think things will work out in the end (they do) and the grass is always greener on my side (unless it's winter, and then no one's grass is green). But yesterday I read an article in my Runners World (of all places) that really struck a chord with me. The author talked about how their whole life is spent speaking in "I have to" language. I have to pick up the kids from school, I have to go to work, I have to make dinner. And somehow, somewhere (details escape me) she decided to try speaking out in another language, that of "I Get To."

I followed her train of thought and really got to thinking about how I also live my life in "I Have To." Yesterday I had to go to my day job and then my evening job (which if you know me, you know I don't like) and then had to squeeze in a work out to keep up with our 90 day plan. I kept dreading every minute of it until I thought of my RW magazine. And then I read this interview with the author of book called "A Thousand Sisters." The woman was so moved by an Oprah episode on the Congo, that she quit her job, left her life (including her fiance), raised $50,000 and went to go help women there. She told the story of a woman who had her leg cut off by a militia group just for not having enough money to please them.

Then I GOT it. I sat in my reclining chair in front of my huge flat screen monitor realizing that I GOT to go to work- I am so lucky to have two jobs when most people don't even have one (granted they're both temp jobs but that's not the point). And I GOT to go home and work out after my 14+ hour work day because I have two healthy legs to get me through life. I immediately got home and put in my plyometrics workout tape and got straight to it. By the time I was done, I didn't feel tired but energized and absurdly lucky.

When I woke up this morning- extra early to take my dog on her first pre-work day walk- my first thought was simple: I got to wake up today. And now I get to walk my puppy and start my day with her.

I can't tell you that I'm having a better or worse day because of this, but you know what, I'm convinced that over time, I Get To language will do so much more for me than I Have To. This may all sound terribly cheesy, I realize, but I wanted to share the thought with anyone that would listen. It's actually harder than I thought to think of everything in terms of I Get To, but I'm certain that over time, it will be such a natural thought and my glass will be more than just half full.

So many useless things

2009-06-06T22:23:00.002-03:00

On July 31st, 2007, I packed up everything I owned and lived out of suitcases for a month while I stayed with Angel before starting grad school. Once I moved to DC, I stayed with a coworker for weeks, then moved to a sublet for another week, and finally, into my very own place (with three roommates) and unpacked all my boxes, bought a brand new bed (that I have a love affair with) and set up shop. Come May of 2008, I put my things back in storage and lived out of three suitcases for the next 8 months. First with my boyfriend in the bay, then in Buenos Aires to study abroad. I got back to DC in January and stayed with a friend for nearly a month until I found a place. Soon after, I found a house, and unpacked all my things. I didn't unpack all my boxes because I knew I'd be moving sometime in the fall. I took a backpack to Colombia for a month and now, due to no fault of my own, I had to immediately move out again and put my things in storage once again. Now I'm going to CA with the same three suitcases to live out of those until I return to DC come the fall and take my things out of storage again.

The point of this historical recap? I was reflecting in the shower about how little time I've had with my personal belongings. How little I needed anything but the clothes off my back (and a few pairs of shoes) but yet, how I refuse to get rid of any of my things. Even though most of it has layed in boxes for a large part of the past year, I still find my untouched game of Taboo critical to my happiness. My empty photo albums I intend to fill with pictures one day are absolutely necessary. My precious stuffed animals that never made it out of their boxes.... the list goes on and on and on. I really don't need much. I spent the past month with only a backpack wishing that I had LESS stuff and only hoping I had the same clothes but washed. I don't quite understand the attachment I have to my things that have gone untouched and boxed up for so long. I think I hope that when I return to DC with my bf, I'll be able to finally unpack, play a game of Taboo, and settle in. But until then, as much as i complain, I'm perfectly fine with my three suitcases. And even then, I'm certain that I have too many things with me that I'll never use.

I remember my first thoughts!

2009-02-11T23:24:00.003-02:00

I was rereading my last blog and I saw that I wondered what my first thought would be when I got to the states and I remember it very clearly.

I thought- what pompous, arrogant Americans (I had a brief run in with a rude girl). And the longer I've been back, the more I think, my goodness, why are people so unnecessarily loud?? And why is this country so expensive??

I'm not saying I don't like Americans. But I'd like to consider myself an introspective American and I wonder why are we the way we are sometimes...

An observation...

2009-01-09T22:43:00.002-02:00

I'm waiting for flight number three of three from Buenos Aires to LA. Can't help but notice that the further north I go, the more americanized the airports are. The food, the language, the currency, the travelers. I wonder what my first thoughts will be landing in LAX. At least I'm easing my transition ouf of Latin America by landing in a city run by my people...

Argentina's Economic Problem

2008-12-18T13:58:00.002-02:00

I am convinced that Argentina's economy is bleeding out because of a little thing called the moneda (coin). Yes, the chunk change we American's take for granted and only really care about when it comes time to feed the meter. Argentina's moneda condition is the most frustrating thing I have had to deal with while being in South America. Let explain to you why.

There is a serious moneda shortage. Everywhere you go, you see signs that say "no hay monedas" (we don't have coins)... you're wondering what the big deal is. Well, for starters, this city runs on buses- you can take a bus anywhere and everyone does it- rich, poor, etc etc. But the buses ONLY take monedas and so if you want to go to say, class, you need to have 90 cents in change. But you realize you don't have any b/c no one gives you change, so you go down to the local kiosk to buy a bottle of water, so you can get change. Cost: AR$2.25. So you hand over your five peso bill.

Kiosk owner: tenes 25 centavos? (do you have 25 cents?)
Tu: no, no tengo (lie, you might have 25 cents but you're not parting with it!)
Here, the kiosk owner does one of two things.
Option 1: Refuses to sell you the water, b/c he's not going to give you change.
Option 2: Sells you the water, and tells you to owe him 25 cents. Like you'll remember that. I've tried to repay all my IOU's, but I'm fairly certain I owe someone 20 cents.

So now you still have no change and you need it to get to class. What do you do? You go to the next kiosk and try again, this time buying gum (which you don't even like to chew) or a piece of candy (though you're on a diet). And if per chance you get your change, it's only enough for ONE bus ride and so you're left with the same problem after class. Sometimes you rely on the kindess of friends to spot you a moneda, but just like you lied earlier to the man about your 25 cents, odds are that they'll lie to you too about whether or not they have another moneda.

Once, my friend and I were trying to go home at 2 am after salsa dancing and she didn't have a moneda. I only had one so we went on a search. Kiosk after kiosk said they had absolutely no change. So we got desperate and started asking strangers, hoping for kindness. Instead, they informed us that no one had change and told us, as though we were tourists, that no one will have change b/c it's a problem in Argentina. WE KNOW THIS. That's why we don't have any change.

So back to my theory- Argentina's economy is bleeding from the change purse. If I were an expert in econometrics, I would prove that the economy is losing millions a year by having a shortage of coins. Why? Well- by forgiving your 20 cents (or giving you an IOU and you forgetting), or by NOT selling goods because they don't have change to give you. Also by the loss of productivity & opportunity costs while you spend so much of your day looking for chunk change.

Why can't the government just print more monedas? Well, according to them, they made millions more in coins recently. But there's a black market- a moneda mafia!!- that hordes those little coins and sells them to those desperate enough to buy them for a higher price. You want 5 pesos in monedas? We'll sell it to you for 8. Can you believe that? And who is one of the biggest culprits in this ring of chicanery? The bus company!! Though they deny it, the government recently found over AR$5 million in coins at a warehouse owned by the bus company! The government confiscated the money and returned to them the same amount in bills. But that didn't solve the problem and I'm not sure what will. In the meantime, I continue to curse this country every time I need monedas and wait for some much more talented economist to figure out how many millions this shortage is costing the economy per year.

Celeb gossip

2008-12-10T16:28:00.002-02:00

A year ago this time, I was obsessed with celebrity gossip. I watched the tmz show, I constantly hit "refresh" on people.com/usmagazine.com/perezhilton.com/tmz.com- you get the idea. In fact, everytime I was bored at work, I went to one of those sites (this was often).

And then one day, my best friend- the girl who sent ME gossip- told me she'd gone cold turkey, like she was battling a bad addiction. I asked her why, wondering who would replace her as my source of barely-heard celeb gossip. She said that she realized she was part of the reason the papparrazzi (sp?) fawned (and arguably contributed to the demise of) people like Britney and Lindsay (who I was completely obsessed with- I mean, she's a cute, freckled redhead who was heading towards disaster).

I immediately realized she was right and was dutifully ashamed of myself. But my life was so boring! And there's wasn't. So I turned to there's to hear what was going on- new party spots, new boy toys, new DUIs. But that day, I, too, went cold turkey on the celeb gossip.

And my life suddently stopped being boring. I had a great boyfriend, grad school, a great summer job, friends a-plenty, Argentina. And now, it's gone back to desperately boring as I study for my impossible final on Friday. I've been holed up in my apartment, leaving only to take my laundry to be done (a half block away) or to buy bread to make a sandwhich. So, when utter boredom/avoidance strikes, I've gotten in the habit of turning back to a few (semi-reputable) sources and check in w/ people.com and usmagazine.com.

Only now I realize, their lives aren't that exciting at all. Why was I ever obsessed with those girls? I mean, sure, they're not stressing about finding jobs or paying off their student loans, but what else do they have going for them? I'm not going to lie- celebs are still alluring, but my almost year away from gossip made me realize that I'm just not that into it. Or maybe I'm just saying that b/c Britney and Lindsay have temporarily gotten their lives back on track? Who knows. But while I had a momentary relapse after nearly a year, I am going cold turkey starting today. Ok, Saturday, after my final/reason for avoidance ends

However, if anything hits the fan- or Brad and Angelina finally decide to adopt a Latino baby, someone shoot me a quick email so I don't miss anything!

Babies?

2008-11-30T19:11:00.002-02:00

I'm not going to lie, Argentina makes me want to have babies. Ok- not really but it's hard not to feel surrounded by pregnant women and little kids in Buenos Aires. You get the feeling that people really love their mothers and value everything that they do. Mother's Day didn't feel like another excuse for mom to get out of cooking or get some new toy or bouquet of flowers. It felt like they really wanted to celebrate these women and show them lots of love.

But I didn't notice this just on Mother's Day. I noticed it from day one. And I remembered today while I was waiting in line at Zara to pay for two lousy things. Lines in Argentina are insanely inefficient and slow and so while I've become more patient, I can't say I'm used to it yet. Regardless, my point is... Some woman asked another woman if this was the line (no, we're all just standing here for fun) and the woman said yes, why don't you go to the front. At first I thought I heard wrong- why would you ever let anyone in front of you?? It's already so slow! And then the lady turned around and I realized she had a HUGE prego lady belly. And even the girls behind me were like, ooooo, that's why, she has such a belly. I'm sorry, but you hardly ever see that level of kindness (or common courtesy?) in the states.

Everywhere you go- there are special lines and special treatment for pregnant ladies or mothers with children. EVERYWHERE. So much so that Woong and I have joked about giving me a fake pregnant belly to get through our shopping days faster. It really does make you want to be prego just so you can get to the front of the line. But also there are so many cute little kids around that you can't help but smile at the (often screaming) tykes. But seriously- is it in the water? I've never seen so many pregnant women in my life.

Why do people think I look Chinese?

2008-11-10T21:11:00.002-02:00

Walking out of my building with my Korean bf.

Kid #1 to Kid #2: Mira, un chino y una china.

What's amazing is that I hear this all the time...

Lost in Translation

2008-10-05T10:54:00.003-03:00

conversation between myself and a local man (Porteno) in English

Me: How do you two know each other?
Porteno: We are, uh, partners.
(silent looks around)
Me: You know, in America, if you say "partners" we think "lovers"
Porteno: Uh... that is not what I meant. (embarrassed smile)

Argentina Classes

2008-09-24T21:22:00.003-03:00

First, I'd like to say that I've always thought my Spanish wasn't really good enough for three post-graduate courses taught in Spanish. Now I know that I was absolutely right.

The problem is two fold: first, some of my professors speak at lightening speed, like the micro-machines car guy that guest starred as a teacher on Saved by the Bell. And second, when I do manage to generally understand the topic, it comes out that I actually know very little about Latin America. Which is tragically sad since my masters is focusing on Economic Development of Latin America. Granted, this is my second year of my program and only this year was supposed to start taking my Latin American courses, but that's no excuse.

I mean, I'm FROM Latin America. It's so close to the United States. I am an INTERNATIONAL AFFAIRS student. And yet, I have no idea who these leaders in the 80s were, how these countries came to exist and how they got to where they are now. Generally I do- but only the part that involves Europe. Like, so-and-so western power colonized so-and-so in Latin America. I know a bit more than that, but overall, not enough to be able to actively participate in my class.

But never fear. That's what grad school is for- to expand my knowledge. That's also what Wikipedia is for. And so for the next few days, I will be devouring information on Wikipedia in hopes that my basic understanding of Latin American history grows enough to understand my professors. One of which, btw, graduated from Cal in '04 with a degree in Political Economy- like I did- and is now teaching me about Political Economy. Something about him being qualified and published makes him- once my classmate-- a well respected professor.

The Other Side of Argentina

2008-09-20T20:12:00.001-03:00

We just got back from our first Argentinian adventure and as much as I want to sit here, in my little apartment in Buenos Aires, and do absolutely nothing, I figured if I don't blog about my trip this weekend, I never will. Mostly because school and real life starts on Monday and I'll be busy with other stuff. I will do my best to update you all via blog about my first trek through the other sides of Argentina.

All of our pictures will be up shortly if you're interested on Picasa... the link will be on my facebook but let me know if you want it and aren't on facebook.

Woong and I decided we were in dire need of leaving the city- we were tired of the polluted air and of the busy city life. We planned as far as Puerto Madryn, which is in the Patagonian region of the country. There, we would venture to Peninsula Valdes and Gaiman and from there we would go wherever the breeze took us. After a few days we decided to go all the way to the southern most tip of Argentina- Tierra de Fuego- via bus and then fly back to Buenos Aires. We crossed that out quickly when we realized we could only get to Tierra de Fuego by crossing Chile and on a plane with valid ID- i.e. our passaports. Which for some reason, Woong thought we should leave at home. As Homer says, D'oh. A day or two later, while planning the rest of the trip, we decide to take a bus to Tierra de Fuego and then fly back to Buenos Aires. Does that sound familiar? Yeah, we came up with the exact same plan that we had already realized wouldn't work. So now we needed a new plan. We decideed to head west into the Argentine Andes to two small towns in the Lake District of the country- El Bolson and Bariloche.

Here is the story of our trip, as abbreviated as I can for those of you that can't be bored with details.

Day 1: Long bus ride to Puerto Madryn. Apparently, the train systems in the country are very unreliable. One guys journey took him 24 hours for what should have been a 5 or 6 hour ride. The buses are all awesome Benz-type vehicles with first class seating. Movie choices are severely questionable (Zohan??? Drillbit Taylor?? Two of the worst movies I've ever seen).

Day 2: Arrive in Puerto Madryn. It's a port town known for their seafood (Argentina is not known for good seafood at all, in fact, our guide book says to avoid it) and as a gateway to Peninsula Valdes which is a Unesco World Heritage site and one of "South America's finest wildlife reserves." It happens to be breeding season for the ballena franca austral (southern right whale) so they are insanely close to the coast of Puerto Madryn. How close? You felt like you could swim to the whales and frollick in the sea with them. This picture doesn't show you how close they were b/c my camera zoom/focus isn't great for shots like this.

Whale off pier

I didnt' expect it to be this cold but I was freezing and buried myself in my thin coat.

English translations are questionable in this country.

We also went to a highly recommended seafood resto where Woong ordered the wrong dish and ended up with a plate of deli meats instead of seafood. He looked so disappointed that I insisted he order his seafood dish. He still orders the wrong thing and ends up with fried calamari instead of this fresh seafood platter with four different dipping sauces.

Day 3: Tour Peninsula Valdes. Tour includes whale watching trip (where we were FEET away from the whales), penguin watching (the magellanic penguin also breeds here during this season), and elephant seal watching (also breeding). Along with maras, guanacos, and burrowing owls. Mara's are this weird version of the North American Hare and guanacos are related to lamas. Woong and I were amazed by the wildlife and felt so outside of ourselves. Days earlier we were in Buenos Aires, starring at stray dogs and puffs of black smoke from buses and here we were now, on the peninsula, feet away from wildlife we'd never seen before. We got to see elephant seals fighting over women an the whale watching was an amazing chance to get close to these famous whales, though at some point, we were so close that our boat was rocking uncontrollably.

Day 4: We head to Gaiman, which is a small town south of Puerto Madryn known for its Welsh heritage. It took us a few minutes to figure out what country the Welsh were from (oops) and then we went to a tea house. Actually, first we went to have lunch at the WORST place we'd ever been to. I think they make all the food and then microwaved it upon order. The lasagna they brought me smelled like serious ass and Woong had some chicken stuffed thing that was equally awful. We were so disappointed that it sort of set our mood for the rest of our tour through Gaiman. We went to tour a park called El Desafio which one man spent over 30k hours making out of strictly recylcled material. The park was pretty cool and we figured, worth a fortune if you were to take all those bottles and cans in to the recycle center. Apparently, stemming from their Welsh heritage, people in Gaiman are serious about their tea and cakes. Our guide book suggested we eat lightly or skip lunch but clearly we didn't listen so we went to eat cake after our nasty lunch. The portions were HUGE and we coudln't finish it all, but no worries, we wouldn't let any cake left uneaten. We took it with us. But only after we ate as much as we could and worked through the serious giggles Woong got (sugar high?)

The rest of the days are sort of blurry. But here's the gist of it.

We went to El Bolson which is a hippie haven, apparently. It's Berkeley meets Tahoe, though far less industrialized and crowded. It was recently named a non-nuclear zone and ecological municipality (see the touch of Berkeley?). Here, we rented mountain bikes and went on our very first mountain biking excursion EVER. We rode them up to Cabeza del Indio and were so excited to be on the mountain, just the two of us, in the Andes, that we complete forgot to STOP and look at the famous Indian Rock. Instead, we kept riding toward the Cascada Escondida (Hidden Waterfall). We were already on quite the adventure since at some point, Woong's front breaks went out and he spent over half an hour trying to fix them. At some point, I had to ask if he knew what he was doing and he admitted he did not. He, thirty minutes later, realized it was something far more simple and he fixed his breaks in about 2 minutes, though they were pretty crappy breaks and kept falling apart periodically.

After that we get to a clearning that said "Cabeza del Indio 90 minutos" the way we'd come. We knew from the rock to the hidden waterfall was 90 minutes from the rock we missed so we knew we must be at the waterfall. Though we can't see anything. So we get off our bikes and followed the sound because we could HEAR the waterfall. We get past a few trees and finally see the waterfall!! We were so proud of ourselves and mused that it really was a hidden waterfall. Then we wanted a picture of ourselves so I fight with some branches to set the camera up to take the picture of us standing in front of this breath-taking fall.

We finish the picture, hop on our bikes and ride about 3 more minutes when we see some signs pointing and follow the crowd. What do we find? The REAL hidden waterfall! Out in the open, over 50 feet tall, thunderous and crashing with some bridges taking you close by. What we found was something on the side, about 3 feet tall, and not for one second had we stopped to think, wow, THIS is it??? We laughed at ourselves for being so foolish and took had some other tourists take a few pictures of us next to the Cascada Escondida.

At that point, we took a wrong tour somewhere, though to this moment, Woong and I can't agree where we went wrong. Regardless, we were definitely on the wrong part of the mountain, not meant for mountain biking. We could hear the road so didn't want to give up but the mountain was so steep that at some point Woong slipped and went sliding down the side with the bike. I'm not gonna lie, I was afraid but thought best to let him finish falling and THEN panic. I couldn't understand why he held on to the bike while he fell, I thought he'd break his arm that way for sure. Turns out he thought if he held on to the bike, somehow he'd stop falling. He did not. In the end, we made it down (semi) safely and landed ourselves in the cemetary. Nice.

After that six hour adventure, we decided the only thing to do was drink some beer. El Bolson grows hops, in fact, nearly three quarters of the country's hops are grown in El Bolson so really, we had no choice. In the end though, we had one liter of beer and decided to pass out.

The next day we went to their outdoor market for some of the country's best empenadas. In under an hour, we hit an entire corner of the market and had two waffles, three artesenal beers, two empenadas, and one giant milanesa sandwhich. Right after, we hopped on the bus and decided to spend our first day in Bariloche being piggies and gorging ourselves with their famous food. As though we hadn't done that same thing in El Bolson that day.

We decided to spend the rest of our trip in Bariloche for many reasons. First, it boasts some of Argentina's best food. Second, it has the country's best chocolate. Third, more artesenal beers. And lastly, because the lake-side city was breathtaking. We spent one day just eating and drinking (seriously) and we went horseback riding another day. The trip included an all day excursion through the Andes mountains and a home made asada (bbq) halfway through. Lunch was AMAZING and HUGE and no one, I mean no one, ate more than Woong. One Chilean tourist came close but in the end, Woong made me proud and ate more meat and chorizo than anyone else.

The horseback riding was worth every penny. I am not skilled enough to describe how gorgeous the Andes are and it was so meditative riding a horse through the hillsides of the mountain range. We snuck up on an entire herd of deer and realized we were really in the wild when we found a clearning with deer bones licked completely clean. Woong was thought of as the troublemaker by others as he quickly tested his horse out and galloped through the plains. At one point, riders in the back screamed for us to wait and as I stopped my horse I immediately knew something had happened to Woong. Sure enough, the man fell of his horse. (pause for laughter). In all fairness, it wasn't his fault. I think the saddle wasn't put on properly and while he was trying to cross a small creek and go up a steep hill, his saddle just sort of slid off to the side and as one tourist from Madrid told me, he was sllowwwwlllyy holding on trying to stay on but rolling off the horse until Woong finally fell off. I wish I'd been there to laugh and take pictures.

That pretty much concludes our trip. Woong did have one more fall but this one was just plain walking down the street and though it was absolutely hilarious, it might be one of those you had to be there stories. We came home today, about ten pounds heavier and tired of buses. We're being complete bums today before whipping ourselves back into shape tomorrow and heading out for a much needed workout.

We've returned with a new appreciation for the country and our city. I think we both understand now why everyone falls in love with Argentina and it was satisfying to come home to Buenos Aires on a beautiful day with a gorgeous sunset.

We plan to hit the road again soon, this country is so big and there's so much to see!! But for the meantime, we're both rejuvinated and happy, having enjoyed a wonderful vacation and of course, I'm glad to have shared that all with him.

Our Next Big Challenge

2008-09-17T09:55:00.000-03:00

Argentina consumes the most amount of sweets out of all the countries. A habit Woong and I are gladly partaking in.

We signed up for Sports Club- a big chain gym in BsAs. We had our first trip to the gym right before we left for our vacation.

Next big challenge: converting miles and pounds into km and kg. I had to enter my weight on the treadmill and had no idea how many kilos I weighed so I took a wild stab in the dark. I went home and realized I had entered my weight as either an 14 year old girl. Perhaps it was wishful thinking? Then I had to enter my speed in kms and pick weights in kgs. We were both very sore the next day and refused to believe it was because we are out of shape but because we didn´t know how to convert our usual weights into kilos.

The Simple Pleasures

2008-09-09T19:50:00.000-03:00

To us, food is one of those. I'm sure most of you can agree that nothing is better than your favorite dish and a great glass of wine after a long day. I, personally, have a love affair with Mexican food- particularly the Burrito. Umm.

Argentina is three things: soccer, wine, and beef. I'm not gonna lie- the beef is pretty good. I'm learning about a variety of different cuts and how it's possible to eat a great piece of beef plain- not covered in A1 or some other steak sauce. Their pasta is pretty good too- after all, it is influenced by the Italians.

But one thing travel books forget to tell you is that that's pretty much it. Don't get me wrong, great beef can come in many different ways- sandwhiches, plain, with papas fritas. As can pasta and pizza. But there is so much more out there- peppers and cumin and sage and even fresh basil. You're not going to find much of that here. Woong and I- being of origins that genuinely value spice- are dying out here. We have to ask for pepper everywhere we go. And everytime we order a dish marked as spicy they warn us- "oh, that's very spicy, be careful."

It never is. We've yet to have spicy food. We tried Indian food hoping for some tasty vindaloo. No. We tried several Chinese restaurants. Nothing. Even tried two Mexican restaurants. Still no good.

So we decided to scour the country for the infamous chili pepper. They just can not be found in Argentine grocery stores. We hit up the Chinese stores too since we're blocks from China town. Every time we go there the Argentine locals stop Woong and ask him how much something costs or they'll point to some Chinese writing and ask him where they can find that. He's not Chinese. At least he feels comfortable here because locals are used to a high Asian population (both Chinese and Korean) and so they dont' stare at him everywhere we go like they did in Mexico.

But our search turned up fruitless until today!! We found a new Chinese store that had JALAPENOS!! We were so excited. OH- and, PINTO BEANS. Yes, at the Chinese store. And for you people that think all Latino's south of Tijuana are the same- Argentinians don't eat a lot of beans and so pinto beans are a rare, rare find. As are tortillas. Those things are synonymous with Mexico and more Central America- definitely not Argentina.

So the next time you bite into that spicy Thai dish or kimchee, think of us here in Argentina, eating our tasty beef, longing for a mouth-burning bite into some chili pepper- any chili pepper.

The Moment we Felt Argentinian

2008-09-06T13:59:00.000-03:00

This moment hit us last night. The two of us were playing pool in Palermo SoHo and then decided to have dinner at this great looking parrilla. After the usual stuffing-of-selves with meat and wine, we came home and looked at the clock. It was after 1am and we'd just finished dinner. We finally did it! We assimilated ourselves into the culture. We thought about going out and staying at the club til 7 am, but we're not yet there and decided to save that for another night.

Our First Days as Tourists

2008-08-27T17:48:00.000-03:00

Casa Rosada (Pink House) Our First Tango Show

Woong: hehehe, that street is called Mai-pu (pronounced My Poo)

Me: seriously?? :)

Woong's best dancer pose

A rainy day from our balcony

Our first days in BsAs

2008-08-24T16:29:00.000-03:00

We've been in Buenos Aires for two nights now. And I 've caught Woong's cold. We haven't been able to switch to BsAs time so we're going to sleep at 4 and waking up at 16. (I'm switching to the Argentine way of doing time). I don't have many adventures to share since I've been dying the past day but we did try to make the most of our first night.

Some observations: Buenos Aires is a big, dirty city. It's a cross between Mexico City and New York City, with a drop of European. It took me forever to realize why Buenos Aires has pizzeria's on every corner and is renowned for their ice cream. I kept wondering what their fascination with American pizzas is until it dawned on me that Buenos Aires has heavy Italian roots. It was my AHA moment. Duh- that explains the pizzerias and plentiful ice cream.

Buenos Aires is also very polluted. Lonely Planet says the city is "lax on pollution controls." It's not as bad as China but it's not very refreshing either. Want to know something else they're lax on? CLEANING UP THEIR DOG POO. Again- Euro influence? Woong and I couldn't help but think how glad we are to live in America, a country that cleans up their poo.

Our first meal was at 20hrs on a Friday night. We hadn't had anything to eat since 8 and were famished. The restaurant didn't open til 20hrs. Argentines don't eat dinner til about 22hrs so we were the very first ones in the restaurant. But let me tell you, they don't f*** around with their beef. It was delicious.

Our first dinner in BsAs

We also tried grocery shopping which was an adventure in itself. And I DO speak Spanish. I mean, I got that "leche entera" is whole milk, but the rest of the milks were so hard to understand. And there were so many options for salt I had to ask someone which one was table salt.

The rest of the time I've spent lying on our couch and watching our 100+ cable channels. About half of the channels are in English w/ Spanish subtitles and the other half are American programs dubbed in Spanish. As we speak, Woong is watching The Simpsons in Spanish. Good to know we won't be behind on our pop culture.

My Best Madonna impersonation

Woong at our front door, which we can watch on Channel 98.

And the adventure begins!!

2008-08-21T01:34:00.000-03:00

By going nowhere. As you may or may not know, I'm going to be living in Buenos Aires with my wonderful boyfriend until at least January. Our graceful exit was scheduled for today- United to Dulles (DC), Dulles to Buenos Aires. We said our good-byes over a handful of dinners [and a cake aptly saying "Hasta la Vista" courtesy of Carolyn and Satura Cakes (yes, I do free marketing if you're interested)].

After staying up past two trying to get ourselves ready and waking up at 8:30, we miss our flight. Technically we didn't miss it and I blame United for us not being on our way to BsAs right now, but that's another story. So after some frustration and a rescheduled flight, we gathered our 4 check-in bags and two carry-on bags and head to Angel's place in the Marina for yet another final night in the bay/California/United States. We go back and forth for a second as to whether or not we should have a quiet night in or call up our friends.

We chose the latter. Not for anything fancy but for a FEAST of Korean bbq at the Brothers in the Inner Richmond. We text our friends and had a last minute dinner with seven great friends.

And now I'm ready to go. Again. I'm determined to make my flight and by Friday at 9:30 am- local time- I will be in Buenos Aires. As excited as I am, I was sad when I realized what I was leaving behind. It dawned on me just how lucky I am, to miss my flight, have great friends to stay with, drive me to the airport, and have a huge dinner with- all so last minute. I won't have that in Buenos Aires and I'll miss it plenty.

Thanks to all those friends that had pounds of Korean meat with us today. I'll miss all of you. Hopefully- if I ever make it to Argentina. :P

Mean Girls

2008-08-08T14:13:00.000-03:00

My friends say that I'm "too nice." I used to think this was a compliment until I realized their version of "too nice" translated into "you let people walk all over you." I've worked on this a little bit and now I feel that when they tell me I'm nice, it no longer means "you're a fool, grow a backbone."

But I got to thinking on the way to work about what it means to be nice. There's a gentleman, presumably homeless, that gets on my bus every morning with a bag of food and eats all his food. Nothing fancy- today he had a slice of plain white bread and some juice. But I couldn't help to think when he got on "on here comes the smelly man." And then I thought to myself, Betty, that's just mean. Clearly the man is having rough times and he seems nice enough.

That's when I started breaking apart what it means to be nice. I have nice friends that no one would catagorize as mean, but they are quick to be snide or annoyed when they feel the urge. Then I have friends that are nice to me but can say really mean things. I recently told one of my gfs after she told me how nice I am that the only difference between her and I is that she is unabashed about saying her mean thoughts outloud to whomever will listen. Whereas I keep my mean thoughts inside, because I think they are mean and saying them outloud will make me a mean person.

Aren't I already a mean person by having said thoughts? Oh, she should not be wearing that. Woah, her kids are not attractive, and recently, wow, thank goodness for him he looks like his father. Or, by checking my thoughts, and recognzing that they are less than friendly, am I seperating myself from the Mean Girls? Are mean thoughts a part of human nature and how we express them is the determining factor of what makes us nice or mean? Or is that all BS and I'm really not as nice of a person as I thought?

I'm not sure, but I'll keep debating this in my head. In the meantime, I 'll just follow Thumpers mom's advice (which I think is actually one of the golden rules of life, but Thumper says it so well): If you can't say nothing nice, don't say nothing at all.

I can't believe my eyes

2008-08-06T13:37:00.000-03:00

I'm the first one to say how little I actually like/respect Paris Hilton. In fact, she might be why I stopped following celebrity gossip. Her and Britney. And Lindsay. Regardless, this is just plain funny. McCain's poke at Obama, using a comparison to Paris Hilton and Britney Spears, has completely backfired. I had no idea Paris could be funny. I'm sure most of this was scripted for her- but she pulled it off well I just had to share.

http://politicalticker.blogs.cnn.com/

The original video:
http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/64ad536a6d

"I am living my life's mission."

2008-06-21T03:16:00.003-03:00

That's a statement we ask our clients to answer on the scale from 1-5, 5 being that they most 'strongly agree' with the statement at hand. I read it over and over again this week as I spoke with our clients. Some of them would answer without pause and shout out 4 or 5. Some of them would hesitate and speak out loud to themselves, "well, that's where I'd like to be" or "ooo... that's a good question, am I?" And as I waited patiently for them to ponder over the topic, I realized that is a good question. "Am I (pause). Living my life's mission??"

I quickly came to the conclusion that I first have to know what my life's mission is. And as I covered the topic with our clients I thought to myself that of course I'm living my life's mission. That's when I paused to think that over. Not just conceptualize but verbalize what that really means. Does my life even have a mission? I'm not actually sure. I know I want to help people. But is that a mission? Is a mission the same as a purpose? Does my life have a purpose? Is it supposed to?

I have no clue. But yet, we expect all of our clients to be able to answer this, and quickly. I'll continue to ponder my life's mission... so that I can determine whether or not I'm living it. In the meantime, I suppose the best approach is to live it the way I think it should be lived: by making myself happy. Whatever that may be.

What a great day for Californians

2008-06-17T17:32:00.002-03:00

Today, gay couples in California began to get married with the same pride, dignity, and love, that straight couples head to the alter with everyday. One friend of mine said that I was so excited about this and wasn't sure why b/c I'm not even gay myself. I understand what she was trying to say- I took no offense to this. But my question to those that wonder why I'm so excited is simple: why aren't you? I think that one day, hopefully in my lifetime, children will be learning about the next civil rights movement that gave gay and straight couples the same rights and they're going to sit back and wonder why they didn't have those same rights to begin with, the way today, it's unbelievable that black people once had their own schools and couldn't drink from the same fountain or sit on the same bus bench. They are going to look up at their gay parents or their best friends amazing gay grandmother and ask them if that really happened and how people could be so cruel.

One man criticized California, saying that“marriage has traditionally been known, across continents and all geographical regions, as between a man and a woman." If we followed tradition, you might be a slave owner- unless of course, you were a minority and then you'd be nowhere. This has been a year of breaking tradition and recognizing wrong from right. Everyone lauded Hillary Clinton for being the first women to make it so far but I was appauled that it took so long for a woman to break tradition and get to where Hillary did.

I am always eager to let everyone know that I'm from California, but today, I am especially proud to be a part of a few states to recognize that marriage and love know no boundaries. Let everyone have their equal chance at a happily ever after (or even a divorce). I encourage everyone to vote against a CA constitutional amendment to ban gay marriage in our state come November- we've all learned by now how much one vote matters.

Congratulations to all the happy couples!

100 things

2008-06-11T19:00:00.002-03:00

I read about some guy named Dave who is trying to make some sort of statement about consumerism and is reducing his personal belongs to 100 items. I wondered how far I could get myself in doing such a thing... so here's my best attempt to reduce my personal things to 100 things, and my reasoning behind them.

http://www.guynameddave.com/100-thing-challenge.html

1. Shoes-my 13 pairs I brought with me for my 8 months all count as ONE thing, simply because I say so.

2. Teddy Bear

3. Make-up- so I don't wear a lot of it, in fact, daily I only wear eye liner and brow pencil, but I reserve the right to pick up my teal eye shadow, mascara, or foundation if the occasion calls for it, so make up will also only count as one thing.

4. Laptop and it's accessories- which I need as a student and to watch online tv now that I live in a Flintstone house with no cable (who does that??). Plus, my laptop can double as a tv/dvd player so that takes out a few things I don't need.

5. Blow-dryer and 6. Straightener- I have short hair at the mo' and it needs to be straightened frankly.

7. Do tampons count as a personal belonging? I'm open for debate, but just in case they do, I'm adding them to my list out of necessity.

8. Toothbrush, floss, and mouthwash- to borrow from an old friend, clean teeth are happy teeth and my ortho work cost too much for me not to keep up with this.

Wait, I think I'm going about this the wrong way. I'm keeping 1-3 and re-doing 4-8 as follows.

4. Communicaton devices- including but not limited to my laptop, cell phone, phone book, and ipod.

5. Hair products- including but not limited to: bobby pins, hair clips, wax, blow dryer, straightener, headbands, and hair brush.

6. Toiletries- including but not limited to: tampons, shampoo, toothpaste, floss, lotion, hand sanitizer, perfume and deodorant.

7. Clothes- winter, summer, spring, and fall weather, includes hats, scarfs, purses, and accessories and my wallet along with all of its contents (id, cc's, grocery discount cards, business cards).

8. Books-I know there's a library but I don't like used books or library smells so I'm keeping my books and yes, all 50+ of them count as ONE item. You can go to a grocery store in to the 15 item or less line and buy 15 oranges and 1 box of cereal and still go in the 15 and under line, so why can't it?

9. Luggage- I like to travel, I need this. And my set of 3 all counts as 1.

Wow, who needs a list of 100, I can do it in under 10. Oh. Wait...

10. Jewelry. No, I'm adding this to clothes (under accessories!). So I'm still at 9.

Who is this man Dave that thinks the world is full of consumerism?? I'd be interested in hearing what others would keep if they had to limit themseslves to 100 items or less. I think it's easy, if you take my approach. :)

Here I come!

2008-05-05T22:24:00.003-03:00

"Tengo el agrado de informarte que has sido aceptado para realizar el Programa de Intercambio con la Universidad Torcuato Di Tella durante el Fall Semester 2008. Felicitaciones!"

i.e. Argentina here I come...

My First Winter in DC

2008-04-12T22:25:00.002-03:00

Technically, I've lived through 25 winters, but this particular winter was very special for me. Now, I realize there are a few of you out there from the mid-west or New York, who have lived through sub-zero winters but you can write about that in your blog. This is my blog and so we're going to talk about my first east-coast winter.

I realized it was over earlier this week when the low for the day was 46 degrees and I remembered how desperate I was for the weather to hit 30 degrees during winter. I somehow learned that 28 degrees for me was nearly insufferable, but 30 was something I could tolerate.

Winter was especially hard with the loss of all my winter clothes (see UPS blog). I decided to spend my first snow day inside- not just because it was snowing but because I think I was hungover. :) I finally chose to meet some friends at a Dupont bar for drinks and put on my boots, gloves, and scarf. The snow was cold, the breeze felt like pin pricks across my bare face, and my head was cold and naked. But I also remember being in awe over how beautiful the snow-covered nights were in DC. The moon was somehow brighter and the snow lying on the sidewalks and houses appeared to glow under the street lights. Nonetheless, I was miserable and ran out the next day to buy four hats and ear muffs (quite possibly my favorite possession, next to my teddy bear and chapstick).

I also used to be close to tears over the 'long' walk from Farragut North (18th and I) to Sign of the Whale (M between 18th and 19th). Every uncovered part of my body was in pain, my body was tense, my breadth became this enormous cloud of fog in front of me. Now, I walk from G and 23rd to Sign of the Whale and marvel over how close the distance is. But somehow, when the whether hit 15 degrees, sub zero with the windchill, that seemed like a lifetime away.

But winter is gone and already, it's a distant memory in my mind. I spent the weekend enjoying 80 degrees in my sun dress and short, summer hair, enjoying the purple, yellow, the white flowers I see everywhere, the white and red daffodils that seem to have been planted over night, and the trees that though bare still, are now dotted with little green buds.

I survived my first winter living on the east coast and I have at least one more to go. Though Spring and Fall are still my favorite seasons, I realize now that there's something to be said about snowy winter nights. Not a lot, but something... :)

Fine Lines and Sensitivity

2008-04-08T14:27:00.002-03:00

Absolut Vodka recently ran an ad in their Mexican market (seen above) that basically says that in an Absolut (and perfect) world, Mexico would have all of it's territory as though the U.S. never robbed it from us (this author's opinion... :)). It's a commercial meant to do no harm... just that in a world- an Absolut world- everything is glorious and perfect and Mexicans would associate this glorious world with having their land. Let me tell you this first- most Mexican's don't think they'll get this land back ever... nor do they spend their days wishing they did or plotting to get it back.

But US consumers are so upset about this ad and find it so offensive... why? They can't handle that the U.S. took over Mexican land? Are they afraid that Mexican's are going to cross the borders armed with tanks and guns and take back the land? What are people so sensitive about?

On another advertisement note... I recently saw that some bar in some small city nowhere decided to advertise their taco/cerveza specials as such: Wetback Wednesday. And the community was in an uproar about this.

Let's discuss the differences:

Commercial 1, Vodka: Insults no one and jests at the fact that a perfect world for Mexicans would be a world where Mexicans owned Mexican land- what a concept.

Commercial 2, Tacos: Uses a common derogatory term for Mexicans to imply that on Wednesdays, said bar has cheap tacos and cheap beers.

Both Absolut Vodka and the bar have pulled their ads. Absolut with an apology for offending people and pointing out that this was for their Mexican market. The bar changed their sign to say something along the lines of: For the easily offended, now offering Mexican American Wednesdays. Clearly the bar missed the point BUT also brought up another good point... they also have White Trash Wednesdays and Trailer Park Tuesdays and no one complains about those... Well... yes. But this has been a long running argument. It's a very fine line that might always be blurry... what's the solution? I don't know. But if any of you are in marketing, I would suggest staying away from alluding to all racial jokes just to be safe.

Unanswered Questions

2008-04-02T23:34:00.002-03:00

As I prepared for my presentation on sexual and gender based violence (GBV), I shuffled through the reading- things you'd expect (rape, sodomy, trafficking) and the things you wouldn't think of (trading sex for rations, boy-preference as GBV, etc). What disturbed me the most was the dirty, unsexy fact that a large portion of GBV is committed by the very people that are meant to protect these already vulnerable populations. Humanitarian workers. Police offers. Peacekeepers. It baffles me and makes my head spin in circles trying to get a grasp around it.

In 2002 UNHCR put out a report about the outstanding levels of violence perpetrated by humanitarian workers. The report quoted refugees and other workers, young girls saying they were told only girls who had sex with the workers would get food, or aid workers who said they knew about it but did nothing to stop it.

Today we had a guest speaker who mentioned this study and how the aid world was appalled. Yet, in 2006, UNHCR released another report saying nothing had changed. She (working for a US govt org) said that they discovered gross offenses by a NGO in Northern Uganda and they published a report the NGO was not happy about.

So I asked... well, you published the report. And they were unhappy. And you probably didn't fund them again. And then what? What happened to these offenders?

Her response: Excellent question. Nothing.

The ICRC is working on this problem, but in the meantime, she said some of these offenders are fired. Some are just reprimanded. Some return home. And live normal, happy lives. In the meantime, they leave behind women and children, already facing tsunamis, civil war and now being exploited by those mandated to protect... what happens to them?

I order life like I order my lattes

2008-03-28T22:11:00.000-03:00

If you're a simple person with simple tastes, then you know exactly the kind of person I am. You know, those people at Starbucks that make you roll your eyes and restlessly tap your foot while I order my coffee. I want a small,non-fathazelnutlattewithnofoam. One breath. Oh, and I refuse to conform to saying "tall, skinny latte." I'm ordering a drink. Not a hot blonde for a date.

The other day I was thinking about how everything in life that I choose is like my latte. It's never JUST a latte. I have very complicated interests. Whether it's food (no Japanese, seafood, or sushi, and no peanut or coconut based curries) or movies (nothing too deep or complicated, no cheesy, slapstick comedy), I am a simple girl with very complicated interests. But I think Starbucks is on to something. Why shouldn't you have your coffee exactly how you want it? I mean, I've heard people order their latte's at 120 degrees. Who even knows what that is?? But I agree with the principle behind this- Burger King has it too with their "have it your way" campaign.

Only every now and then, you find something that didn't fit your particular interests. For example, after my first failed LDR I refused to even date guys that lived outside of SF proper. No. My guy would have to be intelligent, driven, and live within the seven mile radius that I called home. Instead, I started dating anEast Bayer (which, as my good friend said, she "knew you were serious when you went to the east bay twice in one week") who didn't fit my smallnonfathazelnutnofoamlatte mold. But it turns out it was exactly what I was looking for and exactly what I needed.

On one hand, we feel we're entitled to exactly what we want. We want it our way and we've been taught that in this modern age, we can have it exactly how we want 95% of the time. But I can't help but wonder if we're missing the unexpectedly amazing things that fall outside of detailed descriptions of food/careers/styles/men that we think we should have. It's quite possible that we often let the good pass us right by while we're looking at the horizon for something exactly as we imagined it to be.

It's a dangerous trap we risk falling into. Perhaps it's high expectations. Perhaps it's narrow-mindness. But I'm sure I've passed up a good thing or two in the past and I'm sure I'll do it again. I'll continue to order my smallnonfathazelnutlatte just the way I like it, but I'll take good care to ensure that while I do that, I'm not passing up that unsuspectingly good new drink.

Days like this...

2008-03-03T03:33:00.001-02:00

Make me feel like I'm in San Francisco. Fresh, crisp air and sunny skies... I wish DC was always like this...

I wish.

2008-02-26T02:45:00.002-02:00

I used to just wish I was a little bit taller (I wish I was a baller) but then life happened and I grew up and I got wise and mature and my hair grew, my boobs filled out and I still was not taller. So I moved on to wishing for things that might be more plausible. I wished for a college degree, a good job, great friends, a guy I could be cheesy and dorky with. Great shoes (with three inch hills that for a short time period, made me seem taller) and an ipod that played Michael Bolton, Boyz II Men, and the entire Dirty Dancing soundtrack. The problem is that shoes wear down, ipods run out of battery and need to be replaced, and a college degree will only get you so far.

So I'm always left wishing and wanting. Like most human beings, life is never enough. And today, I tried in vain to lure away my friend from her apartment, bf, job, and school in order to run away with me to wherever our credit cards could afford to take us. I say I tried in vain because I know that neither of us would ever leave our anything- we're not those kind of people. I'd never drop out of school (nor would she), we'd never leave our bfs (do you know how hard it is to find a good man?) and we'd never put ourselves in an unknown situation- where we're not sure how our bills are getting paid, when we'll have more money, and what we're eating for dinner.

So today, I don't wish I had new jeans or a new haircut (two things that have been on my mind lately) but today, I wish I was the kind of person who would go to Mexico/Italy/New Zealand on vacation, decide I loved it so much, and just stayed. Who didn't spend my life wishing I could live one way or the other, that just did. My bf is that kind of person- always reminding met hat I CAN go do x, y, and z if I want to, I just have to do it. It's hard for a person who thrives off stability and certainty to do things like that. But I've been wishing for 25 years (nearly 26) and it's time to run away to a brand new place where I'm happy enough to not want to run away. So this year will the be the year I run (not literally) to my happy place. I will be that girl that doesn't want to go somewhere but that does go somewhere. Whether it's a new city, a new job, or even a new country. Yes, no more wishing for me (unless it's for a new, magical way to make me a little bit taller, the Skeelo way).

The Unemployed Grad Student Life

2008-02-25T19:28:00.002-02:00

Well, to be frank, it's a sad, boring life. My other grad school friends say I'm lucky and wish they didn't work. And sure, it has its perks- I sleep til whenever I want- though I try to wake up by ten. I have time to go to the gym and blast Kanye's workout song (I'm hoping to get me a baller man). I have bountiful hours in which I can complete my bountiful reading and not worry about staying up til 2 am getting through five chapters of econ.

But let's talk about the downsides of not working. And not just the fact that payday skips over me like Santa skips over the naughty kids, but the stuff everyone overlooks. Like the fact that since I don't work, I don't have coworkers. This curtails the amount of coworker happy hours- not that I could go to them anyways because all my classes are at night. And once I'm done with the gym, showered, and ready to go, everyone else is still at work. Because apparently, I'm one of the few that opted out of being responsible and took the unemployed route instead. My roommate works. My friends work.

So what human contact do I have until they're off work? Well, there used to be the Starbucks guy until I gave up Starbucks. The library clerk doesn't even look up when I walk into the building. And so I'm left with the pressing desire to actually go to class so that I can catch up with my classmates. This of course, is the 3 minutes before class starts and the 5 minutes we have reserved for a break. And if I have to use the restroom, that curtails my contact with society by at least another 3 minutes.

Of course, my friends have time to hang out when they're done with work. This would be my non-grad student friends. Only when they're getting off work, I'm heading to class. And my grad student friends go from work, to class. This essentially frees ALL of us up by 9pm at the earliest. Except for Tuesdays when a few of us are free by 7pm.

And thus Tuesdays at 7 becomes 'human contact' hour for me. But only once a month because we have study groups, papers, reading to do. So the other three weeks I'm waiting for the weekends or for my roommate to get home, who, btw, also works and goes to school. Then the weekends pour in. And you think, finally, I can have some fun. Wrong. Because despite the fact that you're unemployed, you still haven't finished studying for your midterm, writing your paper, or preparing your group presentation that are due Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of next week. And so you spend the entire weekend, confined in your room/library/cafe, chatting online with your other sad grad school friends, waiting for your Monday class so you can chat with someone other than your gchat friends and your sister that calls you daily.

Yes, I am asking shamelessly for pity. That or a few thousand dollars so I can repay my first year of grad school, drop out, and get a real job with a real life that permits me to once again, have some fun in my life.

Things I Miss

2008-02-21T02:43:00.003-02:00

The fog rolling over the trees.

Silly kisses from special people.

Pork buns. Steamed, baked, any way you can make them.

Rushing, busy people with pink bags.

Days when 6 pm for me was 6pm for you.

Carne asada plates with red salsa (and a hint of green).

Barts/metros that wait for transfers.

Writing my name on a white board to wait for dry fried beef.

People of all races and sexes walking hand in hand.

Steep hills up the street, down the street, east, west.

Unfinished bridges linking east to west.

Three dollar mojitos.

Friends that are shorter than me but equally as cool.

The World According to Sister

2008-02-06T02:03:00.000-02:00

Today I shared with my sister that I decided (just this weekend) to support Obama. her stunned silence was expected- I was well aware that she is a Hillary fan. What came out of her mouth next led me to question her judgement.

Sister: You are no longer my sister. I disown you.
Me: Huh?
Sister: A vote for Obama is a Vote for Oprah!
Me: hahahahah. Seriously? I really question your judgement sometimes (yea, I said it).

I had a few hours to laugh and let her statement linger... and laugh some more. And then she called me back a few minutes ago.

Sister: You know, Oprah is trying to take over the world.
Me: No she's not.
Sister: Yes she is, everything she has is called O. Her magazine, everything. You think it's a coincidence she supports O-bama?? She wants to take over the world... next thing you know it'll be the United States of Oprah.
Me: hahahahah. Really?
Sister: And she's using Obama to do it! (Pause) Are you listening?
Me: Oh, yea, I'm sorry, I was busy laughing.

And there you have The World According to Sister, who, though usually intelligent, has just solidified my arguement that I am the smarter sister.

The Kindness of Strangers

2008-01-30T14:45:00.000-02:00

My friend was kind enough to give us her couch as she is inheriting one herself. We took the couch because a) we need another one and b) we don't really like the couch we have now. My female roommate and I have two male roommates- who somehow always tend to be gone or asleep whenever we need help carrying heavy things and so we're left to fend for ourselves.

After parking the beast of the van we had, we carried the couch from the basement parking lot of her building, to our van parked around the corner, and into the beast. Then we had to park again in front of our house. Needless to say we were having a difficult time parallel parking this 9+ foot animal. Our street is only wide enough to allow one car pass at a time so we were most definitely blocking traffic. A garbage truck was trying to to the other direction but they waited patiently as my roommate backed up, pulled forward, backed up, forward, back... And then the waste management personnel (i.e. trash men) hopped off the back of their ride and offered, with a big smile, to help us park the van. And they did so in seconds.

All I could think of in the meantime, while the man parked our van, was that my wallet lay in the middle console for anyone to take. I was actually nervous about this man stealing my wallet while I watched him park.

And then we took the couch out and lugged it out of the van and up the first few stairs to our door. Then we hit another few stairs and I pretty much gave up. My arms were tired, I was tired, and it was starting to sprinkle. And here comes kind stranger number two, a young Oaxaqueno man who offered to help us carry it in. With his help we were able to get our new sofa in the door in no time at all.

Then he came inside, had a class of water and chatted with us and all I thought was, hmmm... maybe he's staking out our place to see what he can steal.

I finally stopped, paused, and took a moment outside of my accusatory thoughts and realized how distrusting I've become. I automatically thought the worse in these strangers when really, they were showing their best. I felt momentarily ashamed that I'd been so judgemental. I'm not saying I should let my guard down, DC is a city with problems after all, but I think I learned my lesson. Sometimes a kind gesture is nothing more than that...

No More Tequila's.

2008-01-29T13:18:00.000-02:00

I read a status update on Facebook yesterday that said she was desperately craving social activities that didn't surround alcohol. I could feel her frustration and definitely sympathize because I've been there on more than one occasion. It seems as though at our age everything we do surrounds drinking. Dinner... and wine. Sports.... and beer. Dancing... and shots. Movies.... and whiskey. I realize that last one might just be me but in general, you get the point.

My friends in DC can attest to two things- one that I am now a lightweight and two, that I hardly go out anymore. The reason being that as a lightweight, I can't handle crazy nights of drinking that make me useless the next day when I have so much to do/study. And 80 to 90% of what my friends do surrounds crazy nights of drinking.

Don't get me wrong- I still love a crazy night out. Bottles of champagne, whiskey filled drinks, and shots of Jagger still warm my heart (and my stomach and my head...).

But I'm always looking for something else. I found a few things that don't require drinking- like marathons and salsa dancing, but they're few and far between.

So for Lent, I'm toying with the idea of giving up alcohol. No, not just hard liquor like last time (that conveniently left me a loop hole that allowed me to drink beer), but all of it. I keep telling my bf it might be kind of hard- Lent falls during my first visit to the bay (and therefore my first visit to my friends- which usually involves copious amounts of drinks and bottles of wine), my spring break (which will be spent on the beautiful beaches of Oaxaca with my boyfriend and a rowdy bunch of spring breakers), and the occasional bday and dinner party.

Even more reason I should challenge myself and give up Jose, Jack, and John for Lent. It will be hard and I'm still not sure I can (or will) do it, but I think it might be more important for me to try and fail (or succeed!) than to not even give it a shot- the failure might lie in not trying at all. I have until Feb. 6th to decide and in the meantime, I'll think about it while I celebrate my last day of work over margaritas and nachos.

Pubs- or so I thought

2008-01-24T17:47:00.001-02:00

As you may or may not know, I am on a quest to find a job in the microfinance industry. Or so I think today. Needless to say, that search led me to a great organization that I wanted to share with all of you. Kiva.org is a microlending institution that takes lending out of the hands of banks and into the hands of everyday common people like us. Now, I know what you are thinking, what IS microlending?

Microfinance institutions operate under the idea that most of the worlds poor people- if given the opportunity- could alleviate their own poverty through their entrepreneurial skills. These organizations, therefore, lend money to various groups of people all over the world- sometimes $50, sometimes $500- to populations that wouldn't otherwise have access to capital. Studies have found that the repayment rate for these types of loans is about 98%, far higher than the repayment rate of the average person (that would be you and I).

Back to Kiva. They allow you to pick a person or a group in any region and loan them money directly (well, through their website, you're not going to fly out to Zaire to give anyone money). I decided to loan $25 to this particular group of five women in Uganda. http://www.kiva.org/app.php?page=businesses&action=about&id=32644

I did that because their main activity read "Pub" and I thought it was awesome that they were opening a pub. Upon closer inspection, I don't actually think that's what they are doing but nonetheless, with a few clicks, I just donated $25 to five women in Uganda. I quickly and easily became a part of microfinance industry that works solely to alleviate poverty in the world. I have to admit, helping five women in Uganda run a business from my warm chair in DC is pretty amazing. Having just quit my job I'm not one to throw around money, but $25 is such a small effort on my part that I had to do it. I hope you find this as exciting as I do and lend out a bit of cash and become part of the microfinance movement that strives to end poverty.

On Being Mexican, Part II

2008-01-14T19:35:00.000-02:00

My first trip to Mexico came and went and now, I'm sitting in front of my computer in 40 degree weather as though I never left for a vacation. The only visible sign of my trip is the tan I gained while climbing pyramids and sitting in zocolo's for hours on end. But of course, this trip was much more than just a vacation for me. Sure, I enjoyed lazy afternoons with cold beers, sleeping in curled up, and lots of great food, but to me, going to Mexico was about going home, rekindling old familial relationships, and figuring out where I came from.

My bf asked me if I was having some sort of huge epiphany and eye opening experiences while I was there. At first I thought I was. I thought I was realizing that I am indeed Mexican and that I "found myself" (whatever that means). But once I got home and thought about it some more, I realized that I'd been found this entire time. I was right to think I had lost my Mexican side. I did. I am American. Perhaps not born. But definitely raised. I have American values, American perspectives, and I love living in the States. What I was looking for- some sort of cultural identity- was in front of me my entire life and I just didn't see it.

But now everything seems clear to me. I am an American raised woman. What I did learn, however, is that there is no reason that I have to be this particular identity for the rest of my life. I thought the world of cultural identity was exclusive- you have to be one or the other. Yes, I am American but now I can start learning more about my culture, the people and traditions of Mexico, and the delicious food that makes up their culinary world. (I couldn't write a blog without mentioning Mexican food).

I promise myself to return to Mexico very soon. I will never lose sight of the fact that I am American but perhaps slowly I can learn what it means to be Mexican and learn to compliment my American self with the great values and traditions of the Mexican culture. There is no reason I have to be one or the other and I know that now.

The Outsider

2007-12-04T13:26:00.000-03:00

I try to stay away from anything that I feel might come off as controversial. Mostly because I'm always afraid of upsetting someone for whatever reason. And so I've never written about the topic of drugs before but lately it's been at the forefront of my mind.

You always see those movies or daytime shows that portray the kid gone wrong, doing some sort of drug and always, always, being the outsider. Sometimes it's the outsider no one hangs out with and the one kid the parents want you to stay away from. Sometimes it's the 'cool' outsider that turns out to have a drug problem, making all the other kids realize he's not actually the cool one after all. We've all seen these after-school special type of movies/shows. We all know that real life isn't that black and white.

The reality of it is that the kid doing drugs isn't always the bad kid. My reality of it is that the kid doing drugs isn't the outsider either. More and more, I find that I'm the outsider for not doing drugs because as I'm told time and time again by everyone, everyone does drugs. Now this blog isn't about whether or not that's a good choice or who's better for doing (or not doing) anything. Lots of people say alcohol is a drug and we all know I drink plenty so I can't pass judgement. My boyfriend reminds me of that all the time.

But I keep getting put on the defense for not doing drugs. I'm forced to explain myself time and time again for opting out. And then I realized, I don't have to. I don't ask you why you choose to do drugs, I don't try to understand you, I don't drill you about your choices. There's no reason we need to understand each other. In fact, I don't understand you and you don't understand me. I'm ok with that because I feel that my friendships aren't about that.

I'm just tired of being put on the defensive about my choices. They're not wrong, they're not bad, they're just different. And by asking me what happened to me to make me not want to do drugs you're framing it as though I'm doing something wrong, as though I'm doing the 'outsider' thing.

My friend said she uses her top government job as her excuse so people won't give her grief about it. I told her I wish I had some easy excuse like that so I wouldn't have to explain myself. But I don't. So for the very last time, you want to know why I don't do drugs? Because I don't want to. It's really that simple. Sure, I can give you some story or some theory or some statistic, but when it comes down to it, I just don't want to. It's not because it's illegal (so stop implying that), it's not because of any reason, I just don't want to, the same way you do want to. We don't agree about what kinds of food to eat, what types of movies to watch, what kind of guys to date, and you don't ask me to justify those choices. So stop making me justify this one. Let's just agree to disagree.

To Do.

2007-11-27T01:51:00.000-03:00

1. Put off paper. (check)

2. Write paper.

3. Get sleep. Must stop doing (1) and finish (2) to achieve.

4. Study for final. Must first stop (1), finish (2), and squeeze in (3).

5. Plan vacation to the motherland. Effective way of achieving (1). But instead, I blog.

6. Find new job. Must do (1)-(4) first.

7. Write Career Development Plan by Friday. Or else get locked out of Career Center. Effectively making (6) very hard to do.

8. STOP blogging. Delays (3) even further.

9. Learn how to effectively time manage. But I, judging from (1)-(8), don't have time to learn how to effectively time manage. And therein, my friends, lies my problem...

Family.

2007-11-25T22:31:00.000-03:00

This was my first Thanksgiving without my family. I rationalized with myself that somehow the best possible plan for me this year was to stay in DC for the holiday. Reasons for said decision: I had a paper to write, holiday travel is always so hectic- not to mention expensive- and it was only Thanksgiving after all. My family and I- being so small and often dysfunctional- have never been big on holidays. I thought we had very few traditions. Nothing that quite matches my friends family tradition of making (and eating) a birthday cake for Jesus at Christmas. My family has nothing like that.

Or so I thought. I realized this year, that my family has its own traditions. Though they lack the creativity or fanfare of birthday cake, we also did things I now realize I honestly miss. It wasn't until one of my friends pulled out the whipped cream that I remembered my dad- every year on Thanksgiving he would tip our heads back, make us open wide, and fill our mouths with whipped cream. He always 'accidentally' poured too much in and we'd end up with whipped cream all over our faces and in our hair (which btw, leaves a very, very rank smell). Or, though I always fuss and fight with her, my sister is one of those crazy American's obsessed with Black Friday sales and drags me out every year at some ungodly hour to join her on her quest to refresh my nephews wardrobe. Every year she proudly holds up her receipts and boldly announces that she bought 10 new ____ (fill in the blanks) for only ____!! What a steal.

I never want to go with her. Ever. But this year, when she called me at nine am (six am her time) to share with me how lucky she'd been that day, I really missed my family. Well, in all honesty, my first thought was 'is she nuts for calling me so early??', but once I recovered from that, I thought how much I miss her.

No one can replace my small and often dysfunctional and eccentric family. But this year, my first year away from them, it was that much easier to know I had two of my best girlfriends with me. Though they are also eccentric and as I like to say- 'special'- they are also my family.

So this year, to end my Thanksgiving weekend (and admittedly to put off writing my paper some more), I want to thank my family. My sister for insisting on checking up on me. Daily. Sometimes twice daily. Sometimes more. I'm not kidding either. (I love you sissy!) She is also one of few people privy to my ridiculous levels of cheesiness, who sings to me songs from "Annie" when I'm depressed ("the sun will come out... tomorrow. Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow..."). And my girlfriends. Who listen to me talk about my bf at least once an hour. Who understand why I gave it up for so long, why I wear heels all the time, and who put up with the fact that I won't eat fish, Japanese, peanut or coconut based curries or really anything that isn't Mexican, Thai, or Indian.

I have a lot to be thankful for this year... my masters, my crazy bf, my luxury suite of a bedroom... but I would have none of that if it wasn't for my family supporting me through all of it. I know I've said it before, but I really am a lucky girl. And yes, this is cheesy. But we've already established that that's just the way I am. :)

Rejected.

2007-11-20T02:07:00.000-03:00

Yesterday I saw a little old blind woman trying to cross the street. She took a precarious step forward. And then another. And another. All the while feeling the street with her walking stick. I callously walked right past her, not even thinking twice about the elderly woman hoping to get across the street before the light said go.

And then, showing that chivalry isn't dead- an older gentlemen, thick with age, gray from life- offers to help her across the street. It was a scene for a Leave it to Beaver episode. Until she brutally rejected him, shook him off his arm, and yelled "get the hell away from me." Perhaps chivalry isn't dead, but I wonder about niceties...

Veterans Day

2007-11-12T19:43:00.000-03:00

I've never really stopped to think about Veterans Day all that much. It was always a day that I associated with no school or my sorority's founder's day celebration- which usually tends to coincide with Veteran's Day.

But this year I headed for a tour of the monuments with a few of the boys that were in town. Two of Ryan's friends had never been to the monuments before and so we started with the FDR memorial and worked our way through all the big ones.

It was my first time at the Vietnam memorial and you could tell that the pain of the war hadn't left. The wall was lined with messages of love, hope, and reminiscings. Pictures of lost fathers or missing sons were never ending.

And then I saw the man. He was older- his hair had lost it's color, his cheeks had sunk in a little bit- but you could tell the man was full of energy. He was trying to lift the name of someone from the wall onto the paper he had but couldn't figure out how to do it. So bundled up in his red and black Veteran's jacket, he asked a gentleman for help and he succeeded in inscribing the name for him. The old gentleman thanks him and says that was my best bud. Yup. My best bud. I just wanted to come down and give him a good poke, and he waves his first through the air and gets a sad smile. I just wish he were here so I can give the poke myself.

I'd never stopped to think about what Veteran's Day really meant, but when I heard the man say that, my eyes watered and I finally learned to appreciate the significance of this day. So today, on Veteran's Day, I'd like to say thank you to all the families out there- who gave up their sons, their fathers, their grandfathers- and especially all those who still remember and honor the fallen soldiers.

This is Graduate School.

2007-11-02T11:12:00.000-03:00

I'm come to the conclusion that some people don't realize what grad school is about. Or that it's time to at least pretend to be grown up even if you're not really there yet.

To illustrate my point, I'll tell you about my one class. To protect the anonymity of my classmates, I'll change all their names and identifying marks- though come to think about it, I don't even know HER name.

We have a class taught by two professors who alternate turns. We understand they're busy women- they both work for an awesome ngo based in DC- and that the subject matter at hand is difficult to teach (it's an application course, not theory). All of this combined somehow seems to fuel the fury of unnamed girl in my class. We'll call her Ms. Complainer- Ms. C. for short. Every week, she has some snide remark or rude question for the professors, all in this unbelievably disrespectful tone. This week, she managed to say something that didn't sound like that at all. I turned to my classmate and said to her, wow, she's making progress. And then the end of class comes. And there she goes. Her general complains are you didn't explain that thoroughly and where am I supposed to find that?

Let me explain this to you- and the ppl in my poly sci class- and while we're at it- my econ class. This, Ms. C., is graduate school. The professor already went out of her way to post the assignment, explain it, put a sample completed assignment online, and then give us a power point presentation on pointers on things we should be careful of later. What more could you possibly want? To the people in my econ class that wanted to change the midterm because they couldn't make it- this is graduate school. If the professor says your midterm is next week on Tuesday, during class time, you show up next Tuesday, during class time. Don't try to inconvenience me because you have another exam that day. This is grad school. Suck it up. How did you ever make it through undergrad? And poly sci people- the professor sucks, you say? Have you never had a professor that you didn't like? That's awesome, if so. What undergrad did you go to? So I can avoid sending my kids there. I'd hate for them to turn out as whiny as you did. Was it really necessary to spend an hour talking about the finer points of why you didn't like a professor that already quit?

Just wait til you're in the real world and your boss is a moron and there's nothing you can do about it. Or your boss says do this by four and you have no idea what she's talking about but you said, sure, no problem and somehow get it done by four. Three if you're awesome. This, fellow classmates, is graduate school. As John Mayer's song goes, Welcome to the real world. And yes, I did say that condescendingly.

Youth Forum on Global Poverty

2007-10-31T00:04:00.000-03:00

Today I ditched work and volunteered my time as a facilitator for the World Affairs Council Youth Forum on Global Poverty. Two hundred high school youth came to learn more why poverty exists, what are contributing factors, and what they can do to help. One of the speakers began her speech with a short anectdote:

A grandfather is watching his young grandson, who is currently bored and anxious. To entertain him for a bit, the grandfather takes a picture of the world in a newspaper, tears it into pieces and tells him to put it together and bring it back to him when he's done. The boy runs off with his puzzle and comes right back. The grandfather asks, "That was supposed to keep you busy for a while. How'd you finish so fast?" The little boy answered that there was a picture of a man on the other side, so when the man was put back together, he knew the world was in order.

The moral of the story, in case you missed it, was that this little boy had stumbled upon the secret to eliminating global poverty- you put a person back together- you give them an education, health, and a mean of existence- and the world will fall in to place. Yes, this is easier said than done. This blog isn't to tell you how all this can happen. This blog is to say how amazed I was by some of the youth.

One girl presenting raised over $100k after the tsunami hit SE Asia to rebuild 10 fishing villages- it only took $11k to rebuild each one. She then went to SE Asian to see her efforts at work. Some of the villages were not fixable, and so the money was redirected to more useful things. She did this at 16. What had you done by 16? By 20? By 25?

Some of the kids in my group were forced to come to this day-long forum. But others were in groups such as Youth Making a Difference or the Poverty Awareness Club (exact name escapes me at the mo'). I wasn't learning these things when I was younger and I have to admit that as cheesy as this sounds, it brought some hope to me to hear that so many young people are- if nothing else- aware of what's going on this world. They were appalled that so many people live on $1 a day; you should have seen the looks on their faces when I told them childhood mortality was 9 million annually; and you could hear the gasps in the crowd as one boy read off a statistic that Europe spends as much money in ICE CREAM annually as some governments spend the whole year.

I'm sure some kids didn't care. But others were ready to sign up for the peace corp or GCC or any other organization that would take them as volunteers. I don't expect any of you to do the same after reading my short recap blog, but I hope that hearing of such a successful 16 year old, you're inspired to make some sort of difference. Even if it's in the life of just one person. If a sixteen year old can do it, there's no reason we can't.

(And in case you're interested, here's a starting place... http://www.nothingbutnets.net/)

A Week of Very Few Lows

2007-10-29T12:05:00.000-03:00

After two months of being less-than-fun, I had a week filled with lots of highs.

High Number 1: Signed up for salsa lessons again. Loaded up on Suzie Q's (they do exist!) and cross-body leads. I hope to one day debut on So You Think You Can Dance. And not in the "special" section where they make fun of everyone.

High Number 2: Finished Midterm #1 successfully. It's also my only midterm so with one two-hour test, I started and finished my midterm season.

High Number 3: Pumpkin Carving! I can't remember the last time I carved pumpkins. Thanks for organizing girls- I felt like a kid again.

High Number 4: Spending an entire weekend with three people I love- my favorite L-y, Kiri, and Red. I needed a serious dose of all three.

High Number 5: Getting VIP treament at the club Saturday night in NYC. We said we're with Lyndsey's party and got treated like royalty in the door. We'd like to think they thought we were with Lindsay Lohan because even though we know we're awesome, we're not THAT awesome. :)

High Number 6: Being less than a week away from seeing my boyfriend, after two long months. Long distance sucks, but it's worth it when you find the right person- and who could be more awesome than someone you've known for so many years?

Not-so-bright moment of the week: going nuts for hours thinking I lost my cell phone. Staying at the club til closing (4am in NYC) trying to find my phone, only to give up, grab my coat, walk out the door, and realize it was in my coat pocket the ENTIRE time. Yes, I did feel like a complete idiot.

And some pictures...

We found a boy scout! Apparently that's his REAL boy scout outfit from when he was younger. Woah.

Red (Ricky Bobby) is one of the most awesome men in my life, I can't believe we've been friends for so long!

I Hate This Pace

2007-10-18T22:17:00.000-03:00

I walked into the restroom on campus and glanced at the wall to read "I Hate This Pace." I thought, how profound for something on a bathroom wall. Then I realized my eyes- which I swear are giving up on me- had tricked me and it read "I Hate This Place." Much more fitting for a university restroom, don't you think?

But as I was walking to the bus, the only thing running through my mind was "I hate this pace." I think life has sort of hit me at that pace. I spend my days running to work, only to dash off to class, and then to a group meeting, to study, or to sleep. Do I hate this pace? Or is this just the pace life happens at? I think this is just the pace I've chosen and I can't say I say I mind. I'm where I want to be, doing what I want to be doing. Finally. Just one question though- when's it going to be over? :)

Week in Review

2007-10-18T11:16:00.001-03:00

Inspired by L-y.

This week's highs.

- Sleeping over nine, much needed hours. Minor welcomed disruption by a late night phone call.

-Hearing that my bf is only one time-zone away.

- New neighborhood bar opens less than a block from my house. Boasts to have $2 woo-woo shots and to be the type of bar 'where everybody knows your name'.

- The arrival of my TiVo. Now I'll never miss another episode of Grey's/Tila Tequila/Making the Band. :)

- Crawling out of last place in my fantasy celeb league thanks to Katie Holmes/Kim Kardashian/and Heidi and Spencer.

The lows.

- Hearing that my bf is still a time zone away.

- Getting hung up on by UPS, after THEY lost my stuff.

- Having my professor announce she's quitting halfway through the semester, and wants to cram the other half of the semester by stretching our 7-9 class to 7-10:30. Yes, this is P.M.

The light at the end of the tunnel:

- Going to Dewey Beach with the girls.

- Counting down to the state qualifier beirut tournament. (some things never change, right?)

- Out of town guests in T-3 weeks...

Happiness

2007-10-16T11:09:00.000-03:00

A new study finds that American's perceive themselves to be happier than those living in other countries. Because we're so happy, we find ourselves in danger of being more unhappy. Huh?

This actually makes sense. If we're perpetually happy, it is more likely that some minor 'bad' incident will impact us more than if we were usually just kind of happy or already a generally unhappy person. This would explain all those high/low people we know. I'm sure you know which ones I'm talking about- the ones that are constantly either really happy or really sad- the dramatic ones. I'm sure we all know a few of those.

This might also explain why, even though Americans are much happier with their lives, I hear random people yelling all around me..

On the metro: (strange lady waiting to get on) Can ya'll hurry the f*** up and get out?
At work: (woman sitting at her desk talking to no one) Did you really have to f***ing send that to the whole firm?

I always thought it was because these people had anger issues or were just simply rude, but it turns out, they must just be really happy people. Who would have thought?

The future of language...

2007-10-14T14:24:00.001-03:00

One has to wonder if language will one day be homogenous, if we will all speak one poorly put together language instead of the hundred+ languages spoken across the world today. Perhaps I'm exaggerating my thoughts, but one has to wonder.

I remember sitting in my italian class, receiving a typical italian lesson, when the subject got to language. We read that there is a big movement in Italy to maintain the purity of the Italian language. They argued that for whatever reason, Italians were becoming lazy and blending their language with English, which is arguably the leading language in pop culture.

And then I saw exactly what the Italian's meant. I've started to read El Tiempo Latino, a local spanish paper, in order to brush up on my spanish. I was reading an article on immigration and the sentence went something like this:

Eso no es la cuestione que necesitamos preguntar.

"Cuestione?" Really? These are educated journalists writing and they used the word "cuestione"?? For those of you that don't know, they're trying to say "question" (see it? cuestione= question... I really hope you see that) but these educated journalists seem to have forgotten that question, in spanish, is "pregunta." I- with my mediocre spanish skills- know that. My mouth fail wide open and I realized that THIS is the problem with languages. I can't understand why people are taking english words and somehow making them fit into their language when direct translations for some of these words already exist.

Which brings me to my original cuestione- are distinct languages a thing of the past? I mean sure, there's little to no resemblence between english and say, russian, but who's to say that english won't slowly creep into russian dialects? Is it only a matter of time before we all speak one garbled language? I guess that is something that only time will answer.

In the meantime, get it right- the word is pregunta. Not cuestione.

From a migrant worker...

2007-10-13T15:46:00.000-03:00

"If somebody asks me what i do for a living, I say, "I'm a fruit tramp." to me, fruit tramp is not an insult. I'm proud of what I do. I pick fruit. I migrate. Once, I cut out an article that listed two hundered and fifty jobs, from the most prestigious to the least prestigious. The last job, number two hundred and fifty, was migrant worker. Bottom of the list. It actually made me feel good. I chose this lifestyle and I like it. Look at what a lot of other people do- advertising and shit like that. What does that do for the world? At least I'm helping to feed somebody. I mean, it might not be much, but I'm not destroying anything. A lot of stuff I see just seems mindless to me. Just think of the jobs people have- "I'm a public relations officer"; "I'm a consultant"- what do they do? Mostly nothing.

I do physical labor. It's honest. I'm not especially proud, but I work hard. I make an honest living. I don't know what farmwork is about to everybody else, but to me it's good hard work. You know, we're all different. Everybody's an individual...

I couldn't handle a year-round job with maybe three weeks' vacation a year. I like to move around, to live day to day. That's the way I've always lived. That's the only way I know. To me, farmwork is about freedom."

Children's Health Insurance Program

2007-10-05T16:42:00.000-03:00

Bush has struck again. I try not to take issue with G Dub, mostly because it's simple to make a blanket statement on the topic: He doesn't know what he's doing. That's one possibility. Another one: he's a liar. My personal favorite: George Bush does not like black people. Ok, that's not what I was really going to say but who can resist quoting Kanye West's outlandish comments.

But this time Bush made a decision that is a blow to one of the most innocent and in-need groups: children. Too little to vote for or against the Administration, too young to cause havoc, too quiet to be listened to, children's needs are easily ignored unless someone fights for them. In this case, the fighter took up the sword in the form of a bipartisan senate group. Miraculously, the group that cannot agree on budgets, wars, taxes, or immigration, agreed to support the State Children's Health Insurance Program, a program that would provide an estimated 4 million children in America with insurance. Despite Republican and Democratic support, despite public support, President Bush vetoed this bill.

This came to no one's surprise since he announced he would veto the bill. He reasons are laughable and clearly mistaken. I won't sit here and outline them for you- the Washington Post does an excellent job of debunking his reasons one at a time (see link below). It's a tragically sad display of what the administration has become. We have a president that believes only his truths with a complete disregard for who it affects. Politically, this will be more fuel to the fire that's bringing down Republicans. But looking at the larger picture, that is irrelevant. What matters the most is that thanks to G Dub, 4 million children will continue to live in America without health care. Thanks Mr. President.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/10/04/AR2007100401921.html

A Long-Winded Eulogy to Everything UPS Lost

2007-10-05T12:56:00.000-03:00

For those of you who have been lucky enough to avoid my rants lately, UPS managed to lose a lot of my belongings somewhere between San Francisco and DC. At the suggestion of my roommate, I will be calling UPS daily to let them know this is unacceptable, but in the meantime, I need to properly mourn my loses. So here is my eulogy to all the crap- I mean treasures- I lost thanks to UPS.

To my guitar, George. So, I never learned how to properly play you. Or tune you for that matter. Everything I tried to play on you sounded merely like painful cacophony, but let's keep it real- I loved you. I don't know where you are, but who else will love you like I did? Talking to you daily, apologizing for not playing you? No one, that's who.

My dear, dear brand new tennis racket. You and I never actually made it to the court. In fact, truth be told, I don't even know how to play tennis. But you were next on my list of things to do- after learning the guitar and running another marathon. I'm sorry we never got to know each other. I hope someone out there is putting you to great use.

While we're on the topic of brand new, unused possessions... I'm sorry, rice cooker, that we will never come together to make awesome steamed rice or Columbian rice (as Sebass & Lisa taught me). I appreciate that my perfect friend Caroline was trying to look out for me in my post-Caroline cooking days, but now I will never know what it's like to make fresh rice in my very own rice cooker. I even bought this HUGE bag of jasmin rice in anticipation of your arrival. Now, it may never see the shiny top of my brand new plates (brand new b/c UPS broke my first set... see a pattern?)

Leaving the new, unused portion of my eulogy... I'd like to say a very sentimental good-bye to all my evening gowns. To my beautiful crimson dress I wore as maid of honor at my best friends wedding- thank you for making me a lucky woman that night. My awesomely pink prom dress that miraculously still fits- I felt like such a princess in that dress. And what girl doesn't want to feel like a princess every now and then? Honorable mentions go to my long, silver gown, my red dress that got me through many date parties, and my Hawaiian luau dress that I don't even know why I've kept for this many years.

I'd also like to thank UPS for losing all my winter clothes. I might need those living in DC. My new tall boots, my long black coat, all of my neck-warming scarfs, and my paperboy hat that I debated for two months whether or not I could pull it off. Thank you for depriving me of my right to warmth, UPS.

While we're on the subject, I'd also like to say a brief word or two about my lost camera. I'd like to blame this one on UPS, but unfortunately, I lost it somewhere between Cal beating Oregon and me taking pictures with an inflatable Spider Man at a local bar. Thank you for all the good times, Camera. Without you, I would have little to no recollection of what I did the night before. I would not have the large repertoire of pictures I do with which to bribe all my friends with one day. And without you, my friends and I wouldn't be able to figure out if that guy from the bar really was cute, or if we had just had one too many. I will miss you terribly, but I promise to replace you with another version of yourself. And soon. Because as I mentioned, how else would I remember last nights debauchery?

Though torn apart by my recent losses, I will mourn privately and move forward. In the words of Robert Frost, "In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on."

RIP guitar/dresses/coats/scarfs/belts/camera, etc.

On Being Mexican

2007-10-01T12:44:00.000-03:00

I've always struggled with the concept of being Mexican. What makes a person a particular nationality? Is it birth? Location? How well you can cook the food? Perhaps it's how well you relate to the culture. I've never been really sure.

People always ask me where I'm from. I know what they mean. But I don't play along. "I'm from California." No, they say, I mean, originally. I still try to play dumb sometimes. Depending on whether or not I want to explain myself to some stranger who clearly doesn't know me all that well.

What it truly bears down to, is that I don't know how to explain myself. Let's get the technical issues out of the way. I was born in Mexico and lived there until I was 6. Both of my real parents are Mexican. My first language is spanish and I have an affinity for all Mexican food.

But my spanish has since become mediocre and I haven't been back to Mexico since I left. No one in California ever spoke spanish to me, somehow not quite picking up on the fact that I am, indeed, Mexican.

And then oddly enough, I moved to DC and everything changed. I live in a very latino neighborhood and no one speaks english. So even though I try to ask for directions in English, no one understands. I always get in broken english, "you speaka espanish?" I want to respond by saying I speak some imitation of, but instead I say "si" and then floods of information come from the stranger.

I tried explaining to one guy that I've lost a lot of my spanish, but want to get it back. And he said, in spanish, that he doesn't understand because he's trying to lose his spanish. He badly wants to learn how to speak english, so he can finally get by in this country, but everything seems to work against him. He even tried to get an education by enrolling and completing a certificate program only to find that he couldn't get his certificate because he couldn't show proof of residency. I.e. he's an illegal immigrant. So while I'm on my journey to explain myself, he's on his to try to redefine himself.

When I was younger I wanted nothing to do with Mexico. I thought I was the only one, but I had dinner w/ a few people one night, all of us being immigrants, and they all shared how each of them tried to reject their culture and become 'American'. Only they found their way back a lot sooner than I did, or more appropriately, they reconciled their new found American self with their native background. It wasn't until the last few years that I've started to do the same.
I've learned to appreciate who I am, but I still know little about where I come from. In January I will finally visit my home and reacquaint myself with the culture I once rejected. My family continues to warn me, telling me how different it is and how shocked I'll be by some things. But I see this as both an adventure and an opportunity to grow. I look forward to being shocked by everything I see, at least I'm finally experiencing it all. And perhaps I'll walk away from this trip being able to finally explain myself to myself.

2007-09-27T12:40:00.000-03:00

The sun sets just the same in DC, I've decided. I've always been one of those cliche-bearing girls who would quickly announce to all who would listen that 'I love long walks and sunsets'. I really do. Only I prefer long runs and sunsets.

My last month in San Francisco I spent my days worrying about how I would ever recover from leaving my favorite city, how I would ever find as beautiful a place to run at six am or how I would ever find a sunset as breathtaking as the ones I saw over Ocean Beach or Golden Gate bridge. And lo-and-behold, I've discovered that the sun sets just the same in DC. I find it poking it out at me when I least expect, like through the middle of a tree-lined street on a sweltering hot August day. With this new discovery in mind, I realized that my life in DC would be ok. Leaving San Francisco and everything it encompasses was hard, but living in DC will not be... I'm excited about the next two years and hope it brings me more inspiring sunsets, be it over the Washington Memorial or my simple snow-covered house...