Thursday, February 25, 2010

people o.d.

It's been established that I love people. The only thing is I need to add a clause to that. The clause being that I love people as long as I haven't o.d.'d (have no idea how you spell that out; overdosed for those who can't follow) on them. Which periodically I do. This being one of those times or I probably wouldn't have broached this subject.

I work with people in my profession. A lot of people. And for the most part that's what I really enjoy about my job. But there are times each year when I spend 10-12 hours a day solving hundreds of people's problems. And when I get home I have no energy to even figure out if I have any in my own life. Let alone take care of them or prevent them from even occurring. Laundry, cleaning, bills, car maintenance, health maintenance, it all goes to the wayside. Until the next thing you know every time someone I have to help asks a "dumb" question (and contrary to popular belief there is a such thing as a dumb question) I want to ask them to help with my laundry, cleaning, bills, car maintenance, and health maintenance. It's only fair.

At that point by the time I leave work each day the last thing I want to do is see people. There are a few exceptions but for the most part I'm tempted to make my standard phone greeting, "Go to hell!" Or throw it in the ocean. However, since I doubt that'd go over real well with my homies and I'd like to keep them around for when I get back to my true self I've managed to refrain from that.

This is quite challenging, though, because I have A LOT of friends. Bordering too many. I've contemplated making cuts but I really like all of them so I wouldn't even know where to start. I have a potentially bad habit of collecting friends. Anyone I think is primarily interesting and good looking I'll give my phone number to. I've not only picked men up in bars but also a good number of women (all entirely platonic much to the disappointment of men's imaginations everywhere). I'm even still friends with a fairly high percentage of them.

I have cut friends before. When they've become toxic. The ending of a friendship isn't typically as dramatic as the ending of a relationship. Usually it slowly ends until you don't even realize it was over until it's long been over. These are the ones I like because typically it hasn't been for any horrible reason. It's usually due to location, schedule, just not having that much in common, them being highly boring. But in the past year or so I've actually had to end a couple close friendships out of the recognition that they weren't good for me. And that was certainly more difficult. It was akin to breaking up with a boyfriend. I think. I've never actually broken up with a boyfriend. I've definitely ended more than my fair share of relationships before they even got to the second, third, fourth dates but I don't think that necessarily qualifies as dumping. I'm supposing it's similar. Although, while it's more difficult than just naturally letting the friendship die, I must say it's much easier to be on the dumping end than the dumpee end. There's a lot to be said for seeing it coming and already knowing it's the best thing for you.

But as I already said before I digressed into what should probably be an entirely different post, I don't have any that I currently want to cut. And so this week alone I've had/have three different birthday celebrations lined up while all I want to do is disappear beneath my covers with some popcorn, Harry Potter (even though I've already read all the books) and perhaps a cute boy (if he doesn't talk all the better).



Perfect illustration of how I feel

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

sports at the grocery store

I was at the grocery store Saturday morning getting some things for work that day. Despite having to work on Saturday (not that I still necessarily agreed with it)I was in a pretty good mood, which motivated the man (I wouldn't necessarily say he was homeless but he was certainly a little out there) behind me to start telling me about how our respective cashier loved the Clippers but the one next to him loved the Lakers and how they'd go back and forth. He asked me if I was a basketball fan. I was tempted to answer, am I a basketball fan?! But he didn't know that so instead I told him that I was. He asked whether I supported the Clippers or the Lakers. I said, "Neither. I'm a Pistons fan!" He looked surprised but unantagonistic, which is not what I typically expect from LA fans, and asked how long I've lived here. I said, "Almost five years." He said, "And you haven't converted?" I said, "Never! I've been a fan since birth." He nodded his head as though it made sense. He then began to give our cashier a little bit of lip regarding the Clippers performance the night before. Next thing you knew all of the middle aged men in line (I was the only person who didn't fit that category) were chatting sports with me and very excited about this. As I paid for my groceries they all said good-bye to me and told me to stay a sports fan. I assured them I would and walked out of the grocery store with enough street cred to last me at least through the year.

Monday, February 22, 2010

curling

Since the Olympics began I've seen different polls and lists debating who the hottest 2010 Winter Olympians are. Based on the options they gave me I only agreed with the Bode Miller nomination. Then, my roommate and I discovered the sport of curling. Well, we'd known about it previously but had only witnessed the women's competitions, which has me convinced I could become a world class curler by 2014. By the time we figured out there was a men's competition too it was nearing its completion. Such a bummer because it contained the hottest guys outside of World Cup soccer! My roommate and I were on our way out to get breakfast, happened to catch a glimpse, and contemplated not eating until the competition was complete (even if it took the rest of the Olympics). Who knew there was this hidden gem of eye candy? Here are some sights to enjoy:


Saturday, February 20, 2010

a minus

I'm an overachiever. Or at least I used to be. And I'm not stating that in an effort to brag or say I'm super fantastic or anything like that. Personally I think anyone can be an overachiever should they choose that route. It simply requires tuning out anyone in the near (or far) vicinity who could possibly rain on your parade. I definitely grew up with some odds to overcome but incapable was never a word I heard out of my parents' mouths. And so I made it well into junior high believing all 5'2" of me would some day dunk a basketball in the NBA.

Something happened toward the end of high school/beginning of college to change that. I couldn't pinpoint a single moment or even moments. Perhaps it came with the difficulty of getting a college to look at me for soccer despite some pretty outstanding stats. Perhaps small town syndrome had finally caught me. Perhaps the accumulation of the naysayers' words had finally registered. Or maybe I simply tired of the high energy it took to overachieve and said eff it when I entered college.

I spent the first semester of college setting the record for least classes attended without flunking out and achieved the grades to reflect it. Not that they were particularly bad grades by most standards but for me they were the lowest I'd ever seen in my life. I suppose it was a sort of rebellion I'd never had before. 'Course the only person impacted by my rebellion was myself. Not that the grades were what hurt me. I still finished college with a high enough GPA that it would benefit me in whatever I wanted to do. But something changed with that and I became more sensitive to others' criticism, believing them to the point that I didn't go for things I wanted that I wouldn't have thought twice about going for when I was younger. And sadly that's followed me to this day... or at least it has partially.

I've gone on and attained a Masters degree with flying colors but as far as acutal career accomplishments I feel as though I haven't achieved anything. And I know achievement isn't measured on awards or accolades or anything that can be statistically analyzed. A lot of people look at me and say things like, "Wow! You're really doing something to help the world. You must really love it!" or "How fulfilling!" or "Wow, you're really doing good for others." Howevever, when I know I'm involved in something not entirely fulfilling to my soul it doesn't feel that way to me. I know what I've done in the past and am doing currently is helping others but I have a lot of mixed feelings with that. One being that I feel it's kind of arrogant to assume people need me (or anyone) to help unless they ask for it. And it seems to me that while the goal of non-profits is to uplift people the words and techniques utilized to do so more often patronize. I could get into a whole long spiel regarding this but this is a side topic to the point of this post so I'll save that for later.

I suppose I feel sort of that I got into social services in part because I lost sight of my dreams (professional athlete, best selling author, creative inventor, etc.) and maybe I wanted to ensure that other children never let that happen to themselves. However, if you aren't entirely what you want to be then you can't be a complete role model to others and now I'm realizing that. If I'm able to follow my authentic dreams then I'll naturally help others to do the same.

There's a feeling of helplessness that accompanies this realization. A feeling of begin stuck on a hamster wheel. Difficulty breathing. And it's quite reflective in my current position. I'm a firm believer in life reflecting to you what you need to learn in order to grow and develop and it's never been so obvious. I've been in my current job position for just over two years now and have felt stuck there for almost that entire time. I knew going in I was overqualified for the position but it was the time when the economy started taking the blame for everything. And I needed a full time job at that point to make the bills. I figured I'd work there until I could find something else. But something else never came along and I justified it because I was finishing my Masters and then I was too tired after working and going to school full time to look for another job and then I was applying to PhD programs. Now that I'm done with all of that it's readily apparent what a horrible position I've put myself in. I work for an organization that takes advantage of the kindness of others, doesn't encourage and develop their employees' skills and abilities, and in fact, takes it a step further and attempts to bring them down a notch. And I take full responsibility for being in this position. I'm the only one who can give away my power.

So I've spent the last couple months figuring out how I can get out of this position and so much is pointing toward just up and quitting. I know simply being here is holding me back because I question myself and what I'm capable of on a daily basis. So much so that even though I know this is something I need to do for my welfare I'm unable to do it because I've become paralyzed with the fear of not having a paycheck. It's amazing how much something like that can be used to control a person (or an entire population). And that's not someone I want to be.

This was completely thrown in my face this past Fri. when my co-worker and I were training some college students for the program we run and our executive director (who's a case study in and of himself) attended it. This was the first time in his two and a half year tenure with this organization that he'd been to one of the trainings we conduct (despite it being an extremely important part of what we do). Half way through there was a bit of a break and he went off on what a great job we were doing. He then continued to go off even further on how amazing my co-worker was and what a natural she is at it, and she's definitely an A+. Then, he casually turned to me and said, "And you're like an A-" He didn't have any idea that what he'd said was completely inappropriate despite the looks of shock on both myself and my co-worker's faces. I wanted to say, "Well, if that's how you feel then see how you do the rest of the year without me," and walk out. But I wasn't about to do that in front of the future volunteers we were training.

But really I was a big, fat wuss. If I'd had a few more balls I would have walked out. Because this isn't the first time he's done things like this, particularly to me. He's constantly commenting on how wonderful my co-worker's writing ability is but that he's here to help me develop mine. It's absurd because I feel like writing, teaching, and public speaking are actually three of my biggest strengths (I could be the delusional one, though ) and he's one of the only people ever in my life to think I suck in these areas. I don't know why he feels the need to put me down but I've had all I can take. Everyone says to talk to him; however, I've already done that, as well as addressed it to others and obviously nothing's changed despite my high hopes that things were different. I like to believe in the best in everyone but I know he isn't a good person for me to be around if I want to achieve all I dream of. While I know an A- isn't bad I don't want to be an A- in my life, I want to be the A+. And somehow that's what I'm going to be!

Friday, February 19, 2010

backing that arse up

I love to dance. Anywhere. Anytime. With anyone. Well, okay, almost anyone. I'm pretty adverse to dancing with those boys who think it's appropriate to approach a girl at a club by humping her butt. I like to be twirled, dipped, and don't even mind some dirty dancing once I'm comfortable with my dance partner (which comes after the face to face twirling and dipping); however, there's something entirely too primative about the butt approach for me. I'm really not into alpha males who are still in the beginning stages of human evolution. Particularlythose who love to advertise that at dance clubs.

That being said I still love to go out dancing. In fact, that's the only reason I enjoy clubs at all. Otherwise I'd be okay without ever experiencing that meat market. Other drinking establishments are different. Sure people go there to hook up but just as many go simply because they have a friend in town, it's someone's birthday or they've tired of drinking in their own home. It seems to me that the only reason to go to a club is to dance or hook up. Sometimes both happens. And that's fine. I'm not against people getting their groove on with random strangers. I am against the approach most men use to get this groove on (and really women too but that's not for this post). I've actually dated a guy I met at a club dancing... for a solid three months (long term relationship in my book).

And even with that experience I would still never expect to meet a man I could potentially have a relationship with at a club. A regular bar (or maybe a Snoop Dogg concert) for sure but not a club. This was never more obvious to me than this past Saturday when I went with a group of friends to a local club. I suppose I should keep in mind that this was a club notorious for a much younger, slightly less sophisticated crowd and it was the night before the big Vday so the vast majority of the people there were probably single, lonely, and looking to score. Or maybe those were just the ones I interacted with...

At any rate I was approached from behind by no less than two dozen males (and I know they were males even without turning around), asked for my phone number by at least half of them and some who had the balls to approach from in front, as well as invited home that night by two of them. The quickness in their approach to conquer was admirable. I'd never seen anything quite like it because although I was highly intoxicated I'm certain I wasn't giving off the have your way with me signals. Although I suppose high intoxication alone might give off these same signals. These men had no qualms about approaching those wearing a ring on the fourth finger of their left hand, those standing next to their large male significant other or those who use the word NO without mumbling (although slurring might sound like mumbling to some) over and over.

Now lest you think I'm getting a big ego about all of these men wanting to be with me I know it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it was me. It was solely because I have boobs and an arse... and other body parts. And the next day was the big Vday and they were lonely and horny. I know this because soon as I said the word no enough times for them to realize I wasn't actually saying yes they moved right on to the next gal with absolutely no shame in their game. And these gals were literally standing right next to me. Some of them being my friends. Needless to say I had to fight the extreme temptation to hand them my digits.



Sometimes you have to get onstage to escape the butt humpers

Thursday, February 18, 2010

old(er) men

I'm fascinated by the sheer amount of older men who'll chase after younger women. Well, maybe fascinated isn't the best verbage, grossed out, repulsed, disgusted might be more appropriate. And by older men and younger women I don't mean 5-10 years, I'm talking more 20-30+.

It isn't even the age difference that grosses me out. I understand that love manifests in not entirely socially acceptable ways and that it's fantastic when two people can overlook our societal constraints and live happily ever after. I completely understand that sometimes you're working, volunteering, collaborating with someone not even remotely near your age group and feelings develop based upon shared interests, values, and just plain sexual attraction. What bothers me is when these men only seek out women significantly younger than them, like it'll keep them in Neverland or something. At that point the courtship feels almost predatory and dirty.

The inspiration for this post comes from a male senior citizen (I am not kidding, at least 65) that approached me on this recent past big Vday as I walked back to my car from surfing. He initially inquired about my surfing experience, which was fine. I typically have conversations with older men about surfing since they're about the only surfers I ever come into contact with (that and teenage boys; still can't figure out where all the guys my age that say they surf paddle out) and they're usually really fun and informative to chat with. Then, the senior citizen turned predatory and told me there was this band playing at a bar down the street that night and would I like to be his Valentine's date? Now, there's a difference between someone who's just teasing about such a thing and someone who's dead serious. I didn't sense any inkling of jokes in this man's voice or expression. My look of shock must have given away the fact that I wasn't entirely (or at all) interested because he followed up with, "Oh, do you have a man waiting for you at home?" The look of shock certainly didn't disappear as I wanted to reply, "Yeah, this look of shock has absolutely nothing to do with the obvious 30-40 year age gap here," but instead I just told him I had a handsome, much younger stud waiting for me at home, probably butt naked in my bed (Okay, I didn't quite say all that either.).

This isn't the first time this has happened to me. And I've seen it happen over and over to other young ladies. And some of them eat it up. Perhaps because they have low self-esteem. Perhaps they think he has money. Perhaps they know he has money. Perhaps they think it's funny. Perhaps he's Hugh Hefner (most disgusting person in the world aside from serial killers) and she wants to be a playmate. I don't really understand it because I get the "I want to puke in my mouth" feeling when approached. I can feel the desperation and it isn't attractive. At the same time I can understand it. They've probably been playboys their entire life and women their own age certainly aren't going to put up with that. At a certain point it becomes difficult to teach most old dogs new tricks. However, it still isn't attractive behavior. And so as not to sound sexist this goes for older women and younger men too. True love (regardless of age) equals cute while preying on those who aren't entirely emotionally capable of making sound romantic decisions equals not so cute.

overheard randomness part tres

Young woman on the train chats on her cell phone to who knows who. She's larger than average (to be nice) with her butt crack hanging out of pants that are certainly three sizes too small and a shirt that shows more of her stomach than even Giselle should. Her hair looks like it hasn't been brushed (perhaps even washed) in the new year and I'm pretty sure her breath smells (not being nice). Her conversation goes something like this, "First Tyrone came over last Sunday. Then, as soon as he left Jason called me. But I told him he couldn't come over. I mean, it's Sunday. I can't have two guys over on a Sunday. It's the lord's day. So he came over on Tuesday cuz he had to work Monday... No, no one came over on Monday. But Wednesday night I went out with Jill and met this guy. I don't remember his name but he came home with us... No, nothing happened... I'm not doing that on the first night we met! Plus Tyrone was coming over the next morning for breakfast. I had to get new dude out fast. And Jason wanted to get together that night. I don't know how this happens!"

Two seemingly normal guys stare, their mouths agape. I'm guessing they agree with her last statement.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

valentine's haters

I should probably start with stating that I am not one of them. Despite never having had an actual stereoptypical Valentine in my entire life (well, except for this year, which ended up not being stereotypical anyway so not sure it counts in the ways of Hallmark, which is how I stereotype the day). Despite being dumped at one point the day before the big Vday after a lame Mexican dinner followed by some Million Dollar Baby (In all fairness I probably would've dumped someone after seeing that film too.). Which are typically the things that seem to make most people I know hate the big Vday.

I have always loved the big Vday because I love holidays in general. Or more accurately celebrations. Of any kind. In college one of my friends somehow had access to a list of strange holidays (like Oreo cookie day and hang your shirts outside to dry rather than use electricity day), which we would celebrate simply in order to have an excuse to drink (or bother our other friends). Halloween is my all time fav because you have to dress up (not that that's stopped me from dressing up for other holidays/celebrations/regular days of the week) and eat loads of candy (not that that's stopped me from eating loads of candy every other day of the week).

Aside from the fact that the big Vday's a holiday and I get to eat a lot of candy and dress up if I really wanted to (although I generally avoide the pink and red color pallette that day cuz that's taking things a little too far) I also like that it's about love. And not the Hallmark box of chocolates/generic poetic cards/flowers pre-packaged induced romance that we're led to believe is Valentine's Day. But rather a day to remember and celebrate how much you love and are loved by those around you (whether a boyfriend/fiance/husband, girlfriend/fiance/wife, other family members, or friends you haven't slept with). I've already mentioned what an amazing support crew I have so there's always been much love to celebrate on the big Vday even without a man involved. Even the Vday I was dumped I went in to teach my elementary school class hoping I wouldn't have a breakdown in front of them (not that they would've remembered it the next day). But once I got there and all the kids had their homemade Valentines for me and other heartfelt tokens of their appreciation for me I broke down in another way. It was quite touching to realize that even if this dumb dude didn't love me there was a class full of little kids who did and would continue to unconditionally.

And my loves and I have always made it an event. There was the year in college that we volunteered at a big Vday dance for people with disabilities. Then went out afterwards and got smashed. There was another year in college we went to a bar and passed out condoms as a part of the Safer Sex Patrol (an honest to goodness legit campus organization) and also proceeded to get smashed. There was a couple years ago when something like twelve of us were single and decided to invade an Italian restaurant, proceeding to make every couple in there wish they'd either stayed home or chosen a different locale (wonder how many of them lasted). And then proceeded to get smashed. Then, last year a bunch of us (singles and couples) decided to take on Vegas, where far as I know no one got any action... but proceeded to get so smashed none of the fifteen or so of us could manage to consume alcohol for the rest of the trip.

So that has established that I love the big Vday. However, this year I came to fully understand why some people legitimately might not. I had the unfortunate experience of watching the movie Valentine's Day in is entirety in the theatre for $10 and I might as well have watched the Valentine's Day Massacre movie. It left me highly tempted to sue New Line Cinema and any other organization that conspired on behalf of this movie for the I lost hours of my life I'll never get back. And I went in with high hopes. I'm not the biggest chick flick fan but I'm becoming more open minded to them and it looked like it had some "He's Just Not That Into You" potential (Hey, I thought that was a pretty funny movie!). Oh, I was so wrong and for a moment I became a Vday hater. I realized that while I love the big Vday because of the way I choose to observe it I don't love it the way most people choose to observe it.

Many peeps use it as the one day a year they "have" to show their affection for their sweetie. And the fact that these people even have a sweetie but don't find it enjoyable to express their supposed love, respect, and admiration for that person on a regular basis makes me really sad for them. The huge stands with tons of red cheesy stuff, flowers, heart shaped objects made of plastic, nasty tasting chocolate, etc. made me really want to puke in my mouth (I may have a little) because that isn't what love is. I think that stuff is fun for the kids but really if some guy ever tries to show his affection for me with a red, heart shaped stuffed pillow thing I will send that man packing (unless he's really cute and trying to be a smart ass... and has a nice ass). I actually had a Valentine this year (I decided this on my own so he may or may not be aware of this) and we proceeded to get smashed at a bar with friends... Best. Vday. Ever!



Perhaps if peeps dressed like this for the big Vday they'd enjoy it more!

Friday, February 12, 2010

overheard randomness part dos

A young lady check's her baby's diaper while sitting in a [really high class] restaurant with her friend. She interrupts her friend who seems to be going on about absolutely nothing anyway and announces to almost the entire eatery, "Damn, I'm out of diapers!" To which the perplexed friend responds, "Do you have any maxi pads? She's small enough, right?"

bestest part dos

Okay, I had to do it. One last cheesy post inspired by my bestest in the whole entire world (or at least for some time). I've just really been feeling the love hard core this week and based on some highly touching emails, phone calls, and face-to-face conversations I felt I should respond extremely publicly (okay, maybe not extremely publicly since I doubt anyone outside of the inner circle has even seen this but maybe someday... sigh).



Escaping a monsoon with some of the adopted sisters


I'm very lucky to be surrounded by people who are not only very loving and supportive (and have I mentioned hot?) but also very honest. If I ever need my arse kicked I have plenty of people who'd line up to do it and then give me a big hug afterwards. Luckily the heartfelt words I've received lately have all been of the good kind so my arse is feeling pretty good right now. As I mentioned before I sent this to some of the trusted inner circle to get some feedback on my writing (I'm pretty sure I find myself more entertaining than anyone else in the world so I need to get reality checks now and then) and so far it's been really positive (and if it's been negative I've probably ignored it; I once had a roommate who commented that denial isn't just a river in Egypt but also likely my middle name. There might be some truth to that). What I didn't expect were all the "I love yous" I received because of it. Many of my friends that live far and away said it made them feel like we were having a conversation and that we were closer in distance than we actually are in real life. And then thanked me for being who I am and their friend. I never expected my blog to be in any shape or form touching; I simply thought I could recount my hilarious encounters for posterity sake and perhaps snag a book deal once "they" (whomever they are) realize how great it could be.



Bus ride to the Hollywood Bowl


One of my friends (you know who you are) told me I was one of the most authentic people she knows, which is probably also one of the highest compliments I've ever been given and thoroughly surprised me. Not that I strive for fakeness but for a large portion of my life I've felt not quite like I fit in anywhere and I've only recently gotten to a place of full (or mostly full) self-acceptance, which while I'm trying to have a humorous blog here, has required the prerequisite stereotypical Eat, Pray, Love spiritual journey. Unfortunately since I haven't yet gotten my book deal I wasn't given the financial backing to spiritually explore myself in Italy, India, and Bali but think I got similar results in Michigan, the ATL, and southern California (much of the nirvana being found while getting smashed by large waves). Now I know this is a process most people undertake at some point in their lives because I think that's what makes us human and this is probably why I was not a huge fan of Eat, Pray, Love. Therefore, I likely won't be writing a book about revelations, as I feel it would simply be a compilation of what has already been written by the masses (Unless of course it's going to pay the big bucks; in which case I'll make an exception.).



Korean Bell of Friendship with fam and friends


The point of this post isn't to tell anyone how to be more authentic because I wouldn't even know where to begin or even if I've achieved that despite my friend's assurance that I have. The point of it is if I have achieved authenticity (and I think that's something we're all constantly striving for) then anyone can do it. Being true to oneself is one of life's greatest challenges, pleasures, and reward. I think some of my dissatisfaction with my current job stems from my desire for authenticity because I feel that I'm in a career field that doesn't necessarily value that trait. I often feel that I have to set an example at all times and that example is more one of social acceptance than authenticity. How can I teach child development and then talk about getting hammered immediately after? Or the biggest, how can I continue to work in a profession that's "helping" people when I don't fully agree with that term?



New Year's Eve!!!


And so authenticity continues to be something I strive for but am glad I at least seem to be on the right track. And I think I need to again thank my peeps because if I am on that pathway I owe a significant amount to them for inspiring me to become a better person, follow my passions, and be myself. Because no one loves me more exactly for who I am (no matter how many times I eff up and they have to kick my arse) and honestly, it's that unconditional love that makes all the difference in a person's life (Not the after school programs, tutoring, just say no to drugs talks... just don't tell my boss, I still need my job for at least a bit longer. Unless, of course, you want to buy the rights to my future book or give me my dream job. In which case I'll inform him myself right now.).



Some of the Cali friends

Thursday, February 11, 2010

homeless men love me

And so do teenage boys.

I'm not sure if it's like this for everyone else but I have distinct types of men (and I'm being generous with that term) who will always hit on me no matter the circumstances. Two in fact. The aforementioned. Let me preface this with that I do get hit on by other types of men but the amount varies according to the situation. However, these two types of men will hit on me whether it's raining or sunny (granted it's almost always sunny in SoCal), night or day, outside or inside, lookin' good or not lookin' so good...

Last week two homeless men passed me on the street and as I smiled at them as I typically smile at everyone because I think we all deserves at least one smile in ourday. One of them responded with, "Can we come home with you? We clean up real well, I promise!" I had to crack up because, honestly, that was probably the most creative pickup line I'd heard in a long time if not ever. Albeit, they did not accompany me to my humble abode.

Now the day before that I walked out of my apartment and was almost a victim of a skateboard hit and run. About eight boys (and I am not being generous with that term) on skateboards came down the sidewalk traveling somewhere around the speed of 35 miles an hour, which I'm guessing if they had hit me would do a decent amount of damage and being the age that they were it was highly unlikely they would have stopped out of fear of getting in trouble. As I stood there waiting for the next group to pass by me (they traveled in two packs) one of the boys asked if he could get my phone number. I swear to you this child was no more than twelve years old. I could have given birth to the kid if I'd been sexually active in the eighth grade.

And oh, these are not isolated incidences (Well, of course, since I've already said this happens all the time. I just needed a transition.). I had another homeless man (and I apologize if I was simply judging them on their appearance and they aren't actually homeless) offer to buy me a dress. More than a few have asked if they could come live with me. Kids who don't even yet qualify for a driver's license have asked for my number more times than I could count. And chances are 8 times out of 10 when I'm hit on while at a bar the guy's still an undergrad not on the Van Wilder path.

Now, I'm really not into homeless men. I'm sure they're really great people and from the conversations I've had with them most are very nice. It just seems like there'd be a lot of issues to deal with in such a relationship and I kind of prefer my dates to have their shite together. As for teenagers I have a strict 21 and over dating policy. If they can't get into a bar legally they can't date me. With that said I'm not opposed to being a cougar (although, I'm told I'm not old enough to call myself that and since I'm not actually sure of the textbook definition I don't know either) and have welcomed the opportunity to date the 22 and 23 year olds I encounter. In the past several months, though I've rethought that policy. I mean, if dating 22 and 23 year olds when I was 22 and 23 (or younger) didn't work out cuz they didn't feel like they had their shite together, what makes me think the 22 and 23 year olds of today are any better (although, I have two very positive examples in this area as both my brother and a good male friend of mine are in their early twenties and two of the most mature dudes I've ever met)?

Regardless I've been soul searching to discover why it is I particularly attract these two types of fellas. I've come up with the following conclusions: Perhaps I attract homeless men because I've never had much money and up until now, primarily focused on how little money I have (hence attracting those with the least amount of money). Or maybe I'm one of the only ones who smiles at them? As for the teeny boppers I s'pose I do look kind of young (But really a teenager? I'm flattered yet unconvinced.). It could also be that I feel very young. I certainly don't feel the late twenties age I supposively am so maybe they feel that energy. Or one other thought is that in the past (I think I'm over it now) I've had something of The Peter Pan Effect in that I don't want to grow up so perhaps I'm putting out that energy and attracting males who I definitely wouldn't get into anything remotely serious with (hence the homeless and youth of today), thus avoiding a relationship, which is certainly one of the most grown up things you can do. I'm starting to learn to strike a balance between the maintenance of youth and becoming a grown up. Still they continue to hit on me so all theories may be null and void.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

a slight bit of me wants to be homeless

I realize that being homeless isn't necessarily something anyone wants. No one says when they're five years old that they want to be homeless when they grow up. I also realize that it's not seen as a good thing in our society (or most societies as homes provide an innate sense of comfort). That being said I do believe there are some people who prefer that lifestyle over what the masses consider to be a more civilized way of living and I think I finally understand why. I've been feeling extraordinarily restless lately. This is a feeling I've become accustomed to since I typically feel most uncomfortable when there isn't enough change. I've combatted this in the past with piercing my ears six times, streaking my hair with pink dye several times, dying it bright red once (I know, I'm real crazy), moving to different cities, buying new clothes, going on trips, jumping off tall rock formations, taking up a new hobby, etc., etc., etc.

This time around it's different. One, I'm overall quite satisfied, actually truly happy with my life. I've submitted one million applications to PhD programs so in all likelihood there's a new adventure on the horizon, there's also an exciting (although not guaranteed) potential job opportunity for the summer, I've gotten back into writing simply for the enjoyment of it, and I've even met a super cool dude I love spending time with. So really I shouldn't feel any sense of restlessness but I do. After much contemplation I know it's due to the nine to fiveness that has been my job for the past two years. I'm not very good at nine to five. I suck at going to the same places and seeing the same people over and over for any extended period of time. Really, I just suck at it if it's mandated because I don't mind seeing my roommates or other friends over and over. But the fact that I HAVE to be at work makes me claustrophobic. This might have something to do with the fact that I really dislike being told what to do probably more than anything (except maybe dirty teeth). I'm not one of those loud rebels who boycotts and fights against anything mainstream just to fill the space in their lives but nevertheless, I quietly try to figure out how I can escape that fate. This might stem from when I learned to read in first grade and from there on no longer depended on my parents to teach me academic knowledge.

Regardless of where it comes from I recently developed some slight envy for those homeless people who seem to relish in the fact that they don't have to answer to anyone, anytime for anything. Now, I say this with a sidenote in that I probably don't actually want to be homeless. I guess essentially what I want is the same freedom but by the opposite means, aka lotsa money. I want days where if I want to go to the park from sun up to sun down and write meaningless social diatribes and really awful poetry I can. I want nights where if I want to consume alcohol until the sun comes up and then fall asleep knowing I don't have to get up until the next night should I so choose to I can. I want weeks where if I want to explore ancient Mayan ruins and the pyramids rather than read about them in the encyclopedia I can. I want a happily ever after where I can own a popcorn shop and a bookstore and not worry about whether or not people get their popcorny fingers all over the books' pages because I can afford not to. And not have a single soul tell me what to do (They can ask me all they want. When people ask nice enough I'm typically putty in their hands.).

Restlessness to me equals a lack of freedom. And I recognize that I'm actually pretty lucky in terms of the freedom and flexibility my current job gives me. I typically work 10am-6pm but could come in later or earlier and leave later or earlier depending on what I need to do that day outside of work. We have decent vacation and sick time (based on U.S. standards). If we have to schedule a dentist appointment in the middle of the afternoon we can as long as we get our work done (and don't mind vague disapprovement from supervisors who take advantage of this far more than I ever would). But it still doesn't feel like enough. Peeps are still telling me what to do. 'Course this feeling of restlessness could be an overall sign that this career path I've spent so much time on isn't the right one for me, something I've been considering an awful lot lately as well. S'pose it might be a sign to cut my losses and move on when chosen homelessness almost seems like an appealing option.



Might have to pitch a tent

bestest friends ever!!!

Recently I emailed this out to a bunch of trusted and beloved friends (sorry guys if I don't tell ya'll that often enough but it's always true) because what's the point of having a blog if no one's reading it. Plus I highly value their input since I only choose the most intelligent, creative, fun, witty, well read and written, and oh yeah, hot friends. And I got a lot of positive feeback, as well as some recent random comments/compliments from those near and dear that've made me feel like I'm as wonderful as they are (including the one I got today from you know who you are that really inspired this post as I was searching for something to write on). That reminded me again that I have the most amazing collection of friends and family in the entire world. This is something I often think about (particularly if nothing else in my life is going according to plan), as well as often share with others. This includes one time when a guy I'd just met at a bar said he had the bestest friends in the world. I immediately told him that no, I actually have the bestest friends in the world. Let's just say we never went on a date (Perhaps I should have told him maybe we both could have the bestest friends in the world and then we would've made new friends.). So this is in honor of everyone who has supported me throughout my life whether it's been since near birth (holla bro and sis!) or more recently.



Bachelorette party in VegASS


Some people only have a a couple or one or perhaps even zero (so sad) people in their lives they feel they can truly count on but I don't think I could even count mine on all of my fingers and toes (I tend to be the kind of person who stays friends with everyone I have even the remotest connection with. Granted, some of those relationships fade over time due to distance, busy schedules, etc. but I know that if those details were to change we could pick right up where we left off.). Maybe only half actually feel that way about me but I like to think the feelings are mutual.



Z-Trip and glow in the dark body paint


As a child I made friends with everyone (as I still continue to do) and didn't think twice about whether or not they'd like me because I just knew they would. That faded some in the teenage years as insecurities crept in and I felt like I didn't quite belong anywhere for some time, which I later found out was probably how everyone felt during that same time period. College was where I made my comeback, as well as some of the greatest friends I'll ever have in my life (although a few I already knew from back in the day). There's still a significant group of ladies (and some gents, although I don't talk to them as much as I'd like) I keep in close touch with and count as my adoptive sisters. They witnessed (and really inspired) me turning from an extremely fashion challenged tomboy who didn't know how to flirt into someone who can mostly match and has had more than her fair share of M.O. sessions and dates. I definitely have to credit them for contribuing to the person I am today.



Post-Tgiving with the bro and adopted sisters


When I graduated from college and moved to a new city far away (a day's drive anyway). I spent two years meeting some cool peeps but longing for those friends as I only developed one real, meaningful friendship (that still continues strong to this day and I'm as grateful for it as she said today that she is). So when I moved out to southern California I had pretty low expectations in regards to making real friends. I figured I'd probably made my allotted amount back in college. Plus I'd heard all of the stereotypes about the fake people that reside here. Almost five years later I've had the complete opposite experience of what I'd expected. I've met some of the most phenomenol people I've ever encountered in my life (no worries college/before college friends, you are not being replaced). And there are so many I keep joking that I need to make friend cuts but I like everyone so much I wouldn't even know where to start. They've supported me through graduate school, me trying to get on the right career path, perpetual singleness, taught me to surf, found me soccer teams, etc., etc., etc. Five of them I even met at the same bar (and who says you can't meet someone at a bar)!



My bday/ugly holiday sweater bar crawl


I live in a four apartment building with eleven roommates and I call them all roommates because no one locks their doors and we walk in and out of one another's apartments like we all live there. It's not uncommon for me to come home to find my neighbors on our couch watching TV and none of my actual apartment's occupants anywhere nearby. None of us have our initial matching dishware or cooking utensils because we've all shared them back and forth so many times. I know that if I ever disappeared they'd have a search party out for me in a matter of hours. And while sometimes it can feel a bit claustrophobic and I have to work to spend time completely alone I recognize that I may never have such a situation again in my life and so I'm enjoying it to its fullest potential.



EVB Peeps


And the coolest part about all of these friends is when the different groups or individuals meet, often, it's like they've known one another for just as long as I've known all of them and they develop relationships amongst themselves (Not to brag but I'm directly/indirectly responsible for two marriages and likely a third in the near future!). But that's probably because they're all such good people and good people attract good people (or at least that's what I'm told). It definitely feels great to be the connector, though because there's nothing I dislike more than seeing someone who's lonely and unhappy. So thank you everyone who counts me as their friend or family member because without your positive influence in my life I wouldn't be who I am or where I am today. And I will discontinue all sappiness on this blog from now on (or at least it won't be a frequent occurence).

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

peeps i don't trust at all

I would've ranked those who refuse to ever consume alcohol as first place on this list; however, I understand that there are some with religious views (although I don't understand why anyone would want to be a part of a religion that restricts you in any way as I see that to be thought control rather than a spiritual experience but we can leave that topic alone for now) as well as allergies and alcoholism. So as long as they can still have fun without liquid courage we'll leave them off the list. And really if you can genuinely manage to have and be a good time sober I probably wouldn't even know you aren't drinking

But for those who don't have a good excuse I don't trust them at all. This might stem from an ex-boyfriend who gave up drinking shortly after we started dating. It started out as a good thing since he spent what was technically our first date puking in the bathroom of the movies after spending the earlier part of the day at a fraternity alumni event. But I'm pretty sure it was also the beginning of the demise of our relationship (well, that and I kicked his ass while training for a marathon and I don't think his male ego handled it so well).

It isn't that I'm a raging alcoholic and/or need alcohol to have a good time. I have loads of fun sober (even in a bar) and am famous for giving up drinking for several months in a row just because I can. I've been known to dominate the karaoke stage without so much of even a hint of cough syrup in my system and usually start the dance party before I've even had a taste of a beer. The problem I have with these people is probably not even so much about the consumption of alcohol as it is the two groups of people who typically engage in such behavior. As a precursor I will be stereotyping-which, yes, does make me a most disliked hypocrite-but in my defense, I'm open to getting to know non-drinkers first (and I do get to know most people without alcoholic beverages involved) and we can be friends if they don't fall into these stereotypes.

The first are the control freaks. These people cannot relinguish control no matter the circumstances. They host a party and then spend the entire night making sure there's plenty of food and drinks for everyone else, have you remove your shoes before officially entering their humble abode, freak out if anything's spilled (for future reference, car cleaning stuff gets anything out of carpet and hard wood floors can be easily mopped) and usually end up yelling at someone (typically a significant other even if he/she was an innocent bystander) before the night's over (as opposed to those who shall remain nameless and barely remember who's there and sometimes can't even locate their own bedroom and wind up on the couch with their underwear hanging out... if they're lucky). These are the people you want to prescribe alcohol. And actually cause you to drink significantly out of sheer anxiety simply from being in their vicinity.

The next group are the goody-two shoes who think they're better than everyone else (simply because they don't drink). They're typically female and agree to go to a bar because everyone else they know is there but then spend the entire time looking down on every patron. God forbid a slightly inebriated boy approaches them because he's likely to get a new one ripped. They make you feel guilty for even having a drink... or two or three. And never, ever take a shot in front of them. They tend to feel like not drinking is a super hero power, which I suppose if you can just say no for your entire life it is.

Now what I don't understand about these people is why it's necessary to give up the sauce forever? Can't you just say, you know I don't feel like drinking right now but who knows, maybe at some point in the future (say Friday) I will and if so, I'll enjoy my glass of wine? Saying you're never going to do something opens up an entire can of worms you really don't want to deal with whereas if you leave all possibilities on the table, at least for future discussion you'll never end up with any regrets.

One last note on people who consciously choose not to drink that I couldn't figure out how to fit in elsewhere. These are the same people who host sober weddings, which to me is a version of hell I'm trying to avoid. I mean, who wants to be completely sober while saying "I do"?! And if you plan on having a DJ and a dance floor and expect your guests to cut a rug on it, alcohol isn't even a suggestion, it's a necessity (Except for me who'll be out there anyway but I can only dance so many songs by myself before I get bored.). Except of course if you met in AA. In which case if you fall into that category I will totally support your case for not drinking. This post is about those who don't fall into categories where alcohol is a danger to their lives.

I didn't mean to go off on for as long as I did on the group of people I trust the second least because there is a group that I trust even less and those are the people who don't like cheese. I can understand if you're lactose intolerant or have a dairy allergy (Again, if consuming any of these items threatens your life and overall satisfaction with it you don't fall into any of these categories.). I can also understand cutting back some if you don't want a ton of extra fat in your life (okay, I really can't understand that either but I'm trying) but for those who legitimately don't enjoy the tasty goodness that is curds and whey I'm positive ya'll are conspring to off me in my sleep. Also, let me add to this group in saying I also don't trust people who don't like the following foods: pizza and burritos. And even though this is my number one group of people to distrust I don't have much more to comment on other than I really want to invite you over for some extra cheesy pizza... and beer.

he who cannot be named (blue pebble)

He who cannot be named will not be named for reasons that can't also be named; however, his antics are too good not to be mentioned as they occur. This is an oldie but a goodie. He who cannot be named tells these grandiose stories that even I (who would like to believe everything I'm told, but often has to think, wait is that really possible) question immediately. Another person who also cannot be named wasn't having the greatest time health-wise and so he who cannot be named proceeded to share his story of how he overcame brain cancer without any medical intervention whatsoever. Now, I'm a huge proponent of eastern medicine and the power of the mind and positive thinking; however, when he advised her that all she needed to do to become well was to get a blue pebble to focus on I questioned his expertise. There were also many inconsistencies in his story that surely would be questioned by the medical examining board. This story is to be continued as I'm waiting for confirmation of some of the details from my source...

Saturday, February 6, 2010

facebook...

or myspace or twitter or whatever other social networking site you want to name off. I am on the fence with all of these. Okay, really I'm only on the fence with facebook because even though I have a myspace account I don't remember my login or password (it's been that long since I've used it). I found that having both a myspace and facebook account to be counter productive and so I followed my friends and family members and mere aquaintances and I think some people I've never even met to the facebook world. I do like to go on myspace occasionally to listen to music for free, though so if it's up to me we can keep it around.

However, Twitter is something that I can't wrap my head around whatsoever. Far as I know (since I haven't actually ever been on it) you just constantly update your status, like you can already do on facebook. And so if you're going to be a twitter person you must need a blackberry or an iphone or some other electronic device where you can access the internet 24-7. Since my cell phone barely calls and texts people the only time I'm on the internet often enough to make it worthwhile is when I'm at work and who wants to read: "Just answered the millionth dumb question from a college student. Who's on the admissions committee anyway?" or "Mmmm... data entry. My fav!" B-O-R-I-N-G!!! However, if I did have the internet on my phone it'd be extremely tempting to try to create the world's most boring twitters: "Woke up," "Brushing my teeth," "Going to the bathroom," "Taking a shower," "Combing my hair,", "Putting clothes on," "Making oatmeal. Mmmm!!!" And that is why I do not have the internet on my phone. It'd make it way too easy to patronize people.

Facebook is where I truly face my dilemma. I was vehemently against joining any social networking site (and was even completely unaware they existed at all prior to moving out here 4 1/2 years ago). Then, someone else created a myspace page for me and I started using it, ultimately realizing the benefit of it for someone who lives thousands of miles from some of her nearest and dearest. In particular, the picture posting function was phenomenol since for some reason most of my friends and myself couldn't figure out how to put them on the internet any other way. This particular reason is why I graduated from myspace to facebook. I was threatened that I'd never see any pictures from certain people if I didn't sign up. So I did but in defiance everything I wrote on my profile is completely untrue. It's pretty hilarious, though, how many people think facebook is the whole truth and nothing but the truth. My aunt actually called my cousin's wife not too long ago to ask if I was engaged. Now, I had just been at home for Christmas-by myself-so not sure how that leap would've been made. The strangest part was when I went on my facebook there wasn't even anything remotely linking me to an engagement or even a male in general. Once I also had a guy I'd been dating for a bit ask me if I was really in an open relationship (I mean, I guess I could have been. Technically I am but it wouldn't let me put Me, Myself, and I as the person I'm in an open relationship with. So okay, perhaps it wasn't the stupidest question in the world.)!

I like that you can easily share information with mass quantities of loved ones across state boundaries in mere seconds. But that's pretty much it. I don't like how you can make snap judgments about people. I've actually been turned off by guys I was dating once I saw their facebook pages. This guy I'm currently dating and I decided not to become facebook friends because we wanted to get to know each other the old fashioned way... via texting. My roommate asked me why I didn't facebook stalk him and I told her, "Honestly, I like him right now and what if I find out he has hundreds (or even one) of pictures of him shirtless in the mirror?" I don't think even a fifty year marriage would survive that one.

I also don't like how some people feel the need to update you on the most mundane aspects of their lives, particularly parents. I do not care about babies pooping unless it was extraordinary. Or if there's a weather phenomenon (particularly in the southwest where weather doesn't typically exist), event of historical significance, or other worldly event. These events seem to compel everyone to write the same, exact thing as their status. Like we couldn't have found out about it via yahoo or google.

Along the same lines, I don't like how some people overshare. And in all fairness these are the peeps who would do it anyway but facebook makes it that much easier to do and know about. I mean, really, no one wants the specific details concerning how you're looking for a house but your husband lost his job and now you might have to get food stamps and become a stripper and you just found out you're pregnant but the strip club is okay with that and you know that God will take care of you because you found Jesus after a binge pill popping incident back in '03. That is unless they are actually your nearest and dearest and I would hope that those I would count as being in that group would grace me with a phone call instead.

I also don't agree with the amount of time one can waste on that site. It does come in handy to find out everything you'd ever want to know about the people you went to high school with so you never actually have to attend a high school reunion (All awkward "How's it goings" forever avoided!). But at some point the online stalking yields nothing of any worth and that time could've been utilized to discover a cure for cancer, climb Mt. Everest, or at the very least finish Oprah's latest book club read.

But what I dislike the most is that I myself participate in all that I dislike, thus, making me a hypocrite One of the very worst kind of human beings in the world.). I mean, I don't give out the most intimate details of my personal life but then again offering any bits of information is participation in that. And does anyone really care about my morning surf sesh other than me (And maybe whichever friend went with me but then again he/she was there with me so why do they need to read about it on the internet?)? And as far as wasting time I am soooo guilty of this and something I'm currently in recovery for (writing this blog is part of that revovery). But apparently I still haven't been through enough therapy to give it up entirely as I still have a facebook page...

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

assistance at the thrift store

I hate shopping. But I love thrift stores. While this might sound like an oxymoron (which might be a good word to sum me up in anyway) let me add that I also like treasure hunts. Which to me is really what a thrift store is. The actual likelihood of finding something amazing is pretty slim (although still much higher than JC Penneys) but when you do it's the most amazing thing you've ever found and you can be sure no one else has it. That being said I actually find a lot of really cool stuff at thrift stores so my previous point might be null and void.

Thrift stores are also great people watching locales. For sure you'll hear the loud and proud sisters yelling at each other across the store about what they've found (okay, I've done that a time or two as well). You'll also hear a mother and daughter arguing loudly about something the daughter wants but the mome doesn't want her to have. Creepy middle aged men hide out in the women's shoe section. I'm still not sure if they're waiting for everyone to leave so they can buy a pair or if they're checking out the ladies' legs. Baby's are running around screaming madly looking to be adopted since I'm pretty sure they don't have parents. Someone always shows up for some drunk shopping. Hipsters act like they're too cool to be there but end up leaving with fifteen bags of the most used clothing they can find.

And this past Sunday I met Scarf Picker Outter Man. There was this rack filled with scarves. Granted you don't really need a scarf in southern California but I've come to appreciate the fashion of them. But since you don't need a scarf in southern California I refuse to pay full price for them. So when I saw this rack with all of these beautiful brand new looking scarves I went nuts. Scarf Picker Outter Man must have noticed that because he proceeded to spend five minutes of his shopping trip (to buy what I do not know) picking out scarves for me and draping them around my neck asking all the other randoms what they thought. With his help I purchased four new "for fashion only unless it snows in the near future" scarves. And that is a new reason why I love thrift stores.

overheard randomness part uno

I was hella late to a training I was supposed to be leading this morning. The hella late part was due to the inordinate amount of activities I fit into my schedule between the hours of 8 and 10am (I only mention this piece of information as I'm still pretty impressed by the shear amount of not even necessary but well worth itness I accomplished before I even left the house for work.). Lucky for me that was the case because I got to overhear this, "He told me he had kids and I said, 'You have kids?! Like human ones?'"

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

i'm getting a river board?

I made a new friend on Saturday. This in and of itself isn't unusual; I’m always making new friends. I’m good at it. It’s kind of a strange talent I realize, not exactly something that can be put on the resume. Well, I suppose you could list people skills on there somewhere. I think the key is that I really like people (just not the boring ones) and I always assume they’re going to like me back (there’s always a cosmic shock when someone doesn’t). But now that I think about it, I wonder how many of my friends are actually aware that we’re friends…

Back to my new friend. I returned from an almost life ending surf sesh mid afternoon (I’m going to start practicing my underwater breathing skills in the bathtub each evening) and was standing on my apartment building’s front porch talking to one of my neighbors while holding my surfboard under my arm. Two middle aged men who were definitely a little off (they didn’t quite look homeless but they also didn’t quite not look homeless) stopped in front of our porch. The one asked if he could ask me something (I always wonder why people waste a question even asking this but then I go and do the same thing.). I said sure, positive this was going to be entertaining. I could tell my neighbor thought the same thing since he gave me the “oh, who’s Amanda going to talk to now” look and stopped talking himself.

The man said, “Have you ever seen one of those (he pointed to my surfboard) that’s a bit smaller with these things you can strap your feet into?” The way he was gesturing made me think he was talking about a snowboard so I said, “A snowboard?” He said, “No. It goes on a river.” I said, “Are you talking about a wakeboard? Like you ride on behind a boat?” He said, “No. My friend has one and you just wear it in a river.” I just shook my head and said I had no idea what he was talking about since I had no idea what he was talking about (and still don’t). He said, “I’ll have to bring one by.” At this point I was trying to figure out how to dissuade him from doing so since he still seemed to be a bit off and wasn’t sure us having the kind of friendship that involved me inviting him in for an alcoholic beverage (or even milk) was in my best interest. So I said, “Oh, you don’t have to do that.” He said, “No. I’m going to bring it over and you can have it.” Now he was offering to give me the river board. There was no other response to give other than, “Okay. Thanks.” Plus I am curious to find out what a river board is.


Might be able to surf the river on this... if there's a wake.

i live in mexico

I’ve never actually been within the legal boundaries of Mexico; however, the place I call home in southern California is a fairly accurate replica of how I imagine Mexico to be so I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything (Unless it isn't actually anything like this, in which case I feel cheated!). Walking out my front door (or only door since I don’t have a back door… or a side door) I hear more Spanish spoken than English. The kids run unsupervised in the streets (oh wait, that was my childhood too). A cart selling Mexican snacks cruises down the sidewalk every afternoon with its (quite annoying) bell ringing. And the food’s so authentic I’m pretty sure I’ve achieved some semblance of nirvana.

I’ve fully embraced this because I get to feel like I live in a foreign country without the hassle of Visas and Passports and 18 million dollar plane tickets to fly home. And I think Mexican food should be its own food group. My neighbors are also really nice and we frequently exchange pleasant smiles and a few words because that’s all any of us can manage. I’ve realized just how much I’ve embraced it in that who I’ve known my entire Midwestern life to be “Jee-zus” is now only “Hey-soos”.

But sometimes it can be a big pain in the ass and I momentarily morph into an extreme conservative who thinks everyone in this country should learn our official language (even though we don’t have one). I spent an entire day once trying to find a place that could hem and take in a bridesmaid dress and the only one that spoke English was going to charge me double what the others would. But since I couldn’t communicate exactly what I wanted to the others I had to go with double the price out of fear I’d end up wearing something even worse than what I'd started with.

Another time I needed a hella cute boot’s zipper fixed and using the limited Spanish I have, thought I’d communicated how the zipper should be replaced (including bringing the other boot in for an example). When I got it back it was the most poorly done sewing job I’ve ever seen (and I have no professional sewing training), looking nothing like the example I’d provided. Again, with my limited foreign language skills I tried to explain the problem to him and asked him to fix it for free. Instead of fixing it for even a fee he got really angry and refused, demanding I pay him immediately. I really loved that boot too.

I’ve since stopped my attempts to speak Spanish because either native Spanish speakers don’t understand what I’m saying, I don’t understand what they say back or they look at me like I’m crazy to even attempt to speak it. Which I can understand in some respects because I probably sound crazy to even attempt to speak it; however, I am trying, in a country where even though English isn’t legally our official language it is the one most used (82% according to wikipedia). And I think that should count for something.