Girl Anachronicles

El 2008 me dejó más lecciones que muchos de los años anteriores.

A través de penas y malratos, al fin entendí que no puedo “bregar” con mi carrera. Por más que me esfuerce por retener el interés y ser la más profesional y la más “echá pa’ lante”, definitivamente estoy tratando de caber en una chaqueta que no me corresponde. A lo mejor he logrado convencer a los demás de que puedo ejercer mi profesión de manera adecuada; pero nunca logré convencerme a mí misma, que era lo más importante. Octubre 2008 marca el momento exacto en que me divorcié de mi carrera: no más tratar de ser la Super Técnica, ni ser una ejecutiva adecuada siquiera. El intento me brinda más desgracias que lo que pueda pagar un puesto de esos. En el proceso decepcioné a algunas personas; pero sé que, los que me quieran, sabrán ver el beneficio de este cambio tan espectacularmente controversial.

Actualmente estoy trabajando en Hot Topic como vendedora por el sueldo mínimo: al igual que en invierno de 1999, soy feliz en la simplicidad de mis labores. Esta vez pretendo no dejarme descarrilar por el hambre del dinero. También estoy estudiando, ésa es la prioridad actual. Lo que termine de hacer con los estudios, es mi esperanza, será a lo que me dedicaré… cuando sea grande!

Estos últimos meses del 2008 fueron plácidos en el ámbito laboral; pero, como la vida nunca puede ser 100% sosegada, en mi familia las cosas se voltearon patas pa’rriba. Mi abuela visitó el hospital dos veces en dos semanas, situación en la que me ví tan involucrada – a mí misma y a mis hermanos – que no pude quedarme callada más rato y tuve que expresarlo aquí… para desagrado de par de tíos y demás familiares periferales que realmente no vienen al caso, pero que se sintieron TAN aludidos que decidieron comentar sobre un blog que en cualquier otro momento no se hubiesen dignado en leer. Hablé originalmente sobre una familia desbandada, y fue como un self-fulfilling prophecy: mis comentarios sirvieron para deshacer la madeja de familia innecesaria que nos rodeaba como satélites muertos.

Por otro lado, el núcleo también se está afectando. Éste es el detalle que todavía es relevante, el que todavía pica, el que no pienso mencionar aún. Nos ha tocado crecer, nos ha tocado revestirnos de paciencia… me ha tocado reevaluar la situación familiar, y qué hay que hacer para que esta generación Campo-Rossy no se convierta en una maldita copia de la Rossy-Stiehl. Sería muy fácil dejarlo pasar, es la inercia que nos hace gravitar hacia ese horroroso destino; pero quiero demasiado a mis hermanos, a mi madre, a mi padre, a lo que es realmente mi familia y mi templo, para dejar que eso pase.

En estos momentos difíciles, sin embargo, he encontrado que al fin tengo un propio hogar: Ezequiel, Caprica & yo. Es un comfort saber que duermo con mi hogar todas las noches. No importa los embates, el calor y el cariño que ellos me brindan es lo que recarga mis fuerzas.

También tengo que reconocer que este año he aprendido que familia no siempre es = a sangre. Poco a poco se va estableciendo mi nueva familia. Están los de siempre: papi, mami, mis hermanos … y están los de ahora: Pepe, Jose, Mari, Julio… Eze y yo llevamos ya 4 años juntos. Cuatro años que han sido suficiente para empezar a montar una tradición… a ver si la seguimos en el 2009…

Some people say “Count your blessings”. They say it so much and so often, that it has been immortalized into posters, greeting cards and Power Point slideshows. It’s a saccharine, idiotic, Christian-Precious-Moments saying. Or maybe I feel about it so because I immediately associate it with an idiotic Precious Moments poster that was taped on the principal’s office wall in my Catholic school.

Now, “count your miseries” is something you don’t hear much at all. It sounds like an emo thing to say, it may indeed brush along the lines of something Tim Burton would make an animated movie about … but I think it might also help put things in perspective.

- A few weeks ago a friend finally broke up with his long-time girlfriend, after long months of toiling and pushing towards a fruitful relationship. It failed, and he’s now cycling between depression and mania.

- A week ago, Eze’s grandfather died. It was sort-of-unexpected: he apparently hit his head, and his cranium filled with blood. He died of associated respiratory complications (as he had signed a form asking NOT to be put in a respirator).

- Things at the office are NOT looking up:
– Work-wise, it’s chaos. Deadlines are being forced upon the staff, and the best word to describe the general reaction is “mutiny”.
– The boss’s ex-wife (and mom to one of my close friends)was found to have a brain tumor. It’s suspected to be malignant (a grade 2 glioma, to be exact). My friend relocated to Texas to take care of her mom and keep her company, which is totally understandable and fair and right… but it has created a palpable “hole” in this office.

- My grandfather died last night. Bone cancer. Spent the last year or so wanting to die. Last night he got his wish. Most of us are thankful, since it means the end of his plight, but we’re all joined in this bitter grief. His relief is ours to a certain extent, but we will still miss him. Besides, what really breaks my heart is the fact that I never got to see him again after 1995, and my father didn’t get to say “Goodbye”.

- Yesterday I had a bilateral breast MRI done. The doctor found a tumor, something of a change since last time I was checked (2 years ago). I’m petrified by fear (I’m a high risk patient for breast cancer).

- Two of our closest friends are going through more or less the same fucked up romantic situation. Girl leads on. Guy falls hard. Girl turns out to be dating someone else. It’s harsh, and having it happen in stereo is baffling.

- I went swimming: 50 meters. Nothing huge, just to check on my condition to see if I can use the Natatorium facilities. I pass, but barely: my lungs almost give out of the effort, and I realize that 8 years of smoking have taken a BIG toll. I quit smoking. I’m trying really hard to stay “quit”, but all other aforementioned miseries are making it hard to stick to my guns.

One blessing though: The urge to cry is far stronger than the urge to smoke. Isn’t life grand!

I confess I’ve been spending increasingly excessive (and unnecessary) amounts of time in certain forum I will not name. It’s usually not a problem, until a week ago. Someone I personally know opened a thread about plus-sized model Chloe Marshall, who was up for the title of Miss England.

I didn’t post anything in this blog about this particular topic because:
1) I didn’t have the time
2) I didn’t know what to say
3) I believe that a single size 16 model won’t make a true change in the beauty and health industry
4) It’s a beauty pageant, for gossakes! And given point #3, it’s such a biased event, with such a narrow spectrum of what beauty is, that I find all of it incredibly boring.

However, the girl that posted the thread thrives on pageants, celebrity gossip and your general menagerie of “girly” topics (makeup, diets, clothes). I decided to dive in when some other girls started talking about Miss Marshall’s health.

The only facts stated in press releases are Miss Marshall’s height and weight. This is, in my opinion, not enough data to go on to make a solid statement about the girl’s health. However, I found out last week that there are more fans of the BMI index than believers in “God”. And it seems a bit funny to me, considering that the BMI index was originally created by a Belgian mathematician for statistical purposes. It was not meant to be the end-all/be-all of health, much less was it meant to be the founding stone for physicians and health-care professionals to diagnose their patients’ health.

Most people I know, however, swear by this scale. They don’t believe that someone size 16 could be a healthy person. Miss Marshall said in her interviews that she eats sensibly and exercises regularly. I, for one, believe her, because I’ve seen girls the same size, young girls, beautiful girls, girls that eat normal amounts of healthy food (vegetables, fruit … not junk food) and exercise normally as well. They are not naturally thin, and I really hope that these girls will understand that being a healthy size 12, for them, will always be more beautiful than a forced and emaciated size 5.

So, back to the forum thread, I immediately started voicing the opposing point of view, always the dissonance in the crowd. Obviously, most girls started voicing their own opinions, most of them based on the BMI index philosophy, most of them awash with fashion-industry culture and thought. But there was one, sister to the girl that started the thread, that right away pointed spears at me as an individual. Not so much my opinions, but the reason for them. Her specific words, and I quote, were: “Girl, instead of a stick on your shoulder, you have a sequoia tree.”

Of course, she kept on at it, and the barrage didn’t stop when I clarified that this was more of a cause than a personal issue. She made sure to always state that my points of view were an exclusive product of my body and image issues.

Well … I wish I had had this blog post that day. Later on that day a friend of mine read the thread and insisted that I did have to lower my weight, of course, for health issues.

And this is the thing: they’re both right. My friend is completely right and I know where he is coming from: concern, worry, affection. I appreciate it, the same way I appreciated every single comment I received the last time I touched the subject. Most of you who read this blog mean well, and I thank you for your attention and friendship.

But the girl at the forum, my ex-roommate’s sister to be more precise … well, she may be right. That afternoon, after all was written and read, I had to sit down and come to terms with the fact that I have as much a body and image issue as I did when I was an anorexic 16-year-old. But I do not appreciate her intentions. The way she expressed herself about the things I said helped me realize that she was more bent on hurting me or making me feel bad about being fat (and she probably thinks I am in denial about it too) than she could have intended for her words to be enlightening or helpful.

Whatever her reasons for being such a bitch (which she was, no se puede tapar el cielo con la mano), I suspect it has less to do with difference of opinion and more to do with things that went down a year ago. And that, to me, seems petty, shallow and rude.

However, I gotta thank her. That afternoon I cried a bit, because coming to terms with issues that have been standing there for 14 years is not easy. What my friend said made me realize that I do have to do something. But what that bitch said gave me the strength to actually START doing it.

So, thank you, bitch, whether you read this or not. You did me MUCH LESS harm than you probably intended. Isn’t it ironic?

Eze’s been away for 4 days now. It’s not much, but it feels like eternity. You know it feels like eternity when you start getting used to being by your own in the evenings and mornings. But you’re not so used that you forget that there is someone who usually comforts you when you wake up in the middle of a stormy night, ridden with nightmares about shape-shifting trees that murder people. It’s the void in the pillow next to you that hurts the most… but you’ve gone numb.

Nonetheless, I’ve kept myself mostly busy:

On Saturday I went shopping with my mother: one of the most productive shopping sessions I’ve had in my life (and I hate shopping). In the evening, I tended to the usual in Frecuencias Alternas.

On Sunday I received a visit by Alysha and Tattiana. We cooked ground meat for taquitos and I made a batch of polvorones. In the meanwhile we watched Andres López’s Pelota de Letras (a Colombian comedian and his 3-hours-long stand-up routine, very funny, but exhausting!).

Monday and Tuesday have obviously been work-days, but I’ve managed to spend the evenings in something other than moping. I’ve already finished watching season 3 of Doctor Who (which was not as tragic as the ending of season 2, but just as enjoyable). I’ve also come across a few interesting contacts, namely Rasputina‘s manager (I contacted him regarding a rumored recital to be held here in Puerto Rico in November, and as he confirmed so kindly, I took the liberty of asking about the possibility of interviewing them over the phone for Frecuencias Alternas – he hasn’t answered yet, but the exchange was interesting enough for me).

I also found out about a private animal shelter (No-Kill) in Humacao: El Faro de los Animales. They’re a non-profit organization (with no funding by the government) that’s dedicated to the care of homeless animals and the search of loving homes for them. They have a series of different programs to allow the public to participate and help as much as they can with this mission. I’m seriously considering spending at least 2 days a month in this place and help out with my time (every other saturday or some similar arrangement).

Oh … yeah, and the reason for this last discovery: I’m looking for puppy. I finally feel ready to adopt a little bundle of canine love. Let’s see how soon it turns out to be.

That’s better!, originally uploaded by dhevi_anais.

We got to San Diego on Tuesday (July 24th) at midnight. Ravenous, thanks to the overprice of airport food and the hairline slit of a time frame between connecting flights, we were oh-so-thankful when we realized, already in the room, that there was at least one pizzeria available for delivery until 3am. Nothing could have prepared us for the kind of yuckiness such pizza would possess: it was progressively bad as you ate it, until at the end you were only minutes away from disemboweling your disgust at the porcelain throne. Hahahah! Thankfully, the rest of the trip fared much better, food-wise.

The free breakfast was way better, as Pepe can attest! Thank you, Pepe! The offer was “Free Continental Breakfast”, and I was expecting a deluge of fruit and seeds, like a huge trail mix on a plate. I was pleased to find that they also included cereal, pastries, muffins and a small toaster oven.

The first day, we went immediately to find our feet: bought a 4-Day Tripper and saw a bit of downtown San Diego, before heading for the Zoo (I will talk at length about the Zoo on a later post). After the Zoo, we headed immediately to the convention center for Comic-Con Preview Night (I will also talk at length about the Comic-Con on a later later post). At the end of all that flurry of activity, we were tired and incredibly hungry again (the San Diego Zoo doesn’t offer a great variety of fair-priced, healthy, hearty meals … just nachos, fajitas and churros, and all of it is junk-food quality and overpriced. The convention center didn’t have any food stands open either, I think. So after some bickering and dawdling, we finally plopped our sorry and tired asses on a sports bar/restaurant named the Lobster Baja Burrito mutherfucker … No, that’s not the actual name, but it was equally long and I didn’t keep a memento to remind me. The food was yummy, fairly priced, and abundant. I was a happy camper, and I think my travel buddies were happy as well. We went to sleep full and contented.

After that, the rest of the trip was mainly about the Comic-Con. For the next couple of days, we woke up at about 7am had our Free Continental Breakfast, and headed for the convention center. On Thursday, we decided to visit the Horton Plaza, a sort of mall in a totally different style from the ones I’ve seen so far in my life and travels: it has steps and levels all over, pretty but confusing! Pepe says he visited one just like that in L.A. I wonder if that’s the ways malls are all over California…

We found another gastronomic haven at the Horton Plaza that night: the something-something Café (sorry, my memory is hideously bad when the rest of the body is taking over all the energy), which is sort of like a deli-style market with a small grill outside. We ate … a LOT. I’ll have to say: when they advertise grain bread, they DO mean grain. It was unnerving to feel thick, chewy seeds inside my sandwich. The grilled chicken alfredo pasta (cold!) was awesome, and I finally had my first Cherry Coke ever! I bought a Cherries n’ Cream soda and a canned cold “frappuccino” drink from Cinnabon for the road (they were good too!). I also tried their berry parfait: not so good.

On Friday night we took the wrong bus, ended up pretty far from the hotel, had to take a taxi all the way back. It was a creepy experience, mostly because (in the bus) I sat in front of a guy that at first sight looked all normal and primped. After a while I noticed he was laughing to himself for no apparent reason (no Bluetooth hands-free cell phone system nor headphones were on sight) and he was also sucking his thumb (a full grown man!) and fondling his own chest. Ew!!! and Weird!!! After that, I couldn’t fully gather my nerves again that night.

Saturday was the oddest day: we woke up at 3:50 to head out as early as possible to the convention center (that day the Battlestar Galactica and Heroes panels were to be held). We had the bestest of days there, topped off by a nice and cheap meal at the resident (fish) taco place: Rubio’s Mexican Grill. It was more than fairly priced, the fish taco was decent (at least) and the rest of the food was quite yummy. We visited once more before heading back home, just so you know. We even wished we had the money to bring the franchise to Puerto Rico, it would dethrone Taco Maker and Taco Bell in the bat of an eyelash.

Sunday and Monday were sort of wind-down days: Eze and I didn’t leave bed until past 9 am. Both days we totally missed breakfast hour, but bless Mari and Pepe! they brought us some breakfast to the room (talk about friendly room service!) On Sunday we ventured far into Gaslamp street and ambled into a small, posh restaurant (don’t remember the name either). The prices were a bit hefty, so I ordered a prosciutto pizza (nice! topped with red onions and goat cheese, although it irked me that they put the prosciutto in the pizza before cooking it, so the ham was sort of over-salty and chewy … a total pet peeve of mine).

On Monday, to while a bit of time away before leaving for the airport, Mari and I walked a block from the hotel to a local Salvation Army thrift shop. I left with 5 “new” shirts (of which 4 turned out to be pretty decent buys for $3.50 apiece) and a few other trinkets. We arrived at the airport at 3 pm to wait for our flight, which left at 10 pm. Pretty long wait but the San Diego airport is pretty comfy and it offers a few decent-priced options for food.

I was sad to leave, I always am. Leaving is my least favorite part of a trip. Both flights (going and coming back) were horrendous. The Economy-Class seats at Delta and US Airways are terribly uncomfortable and narrow, and damn the day they decided to start scrimping on food! Snacks and drinks at airplanes now are a joke! Even the peanuts are bad. Plus we had a small incident with one of the flight attendants from Delta. I wouldn’t bother saving a few bucks to fly with them again. It’s not worth it.

So, my take on San Diego?

A nice place to visit, it’s incredibly near to Mexico (one of the trolley lines, the Blue Line, goes all the way to Tijuana … haaa! How I would have loved to make that trip!), and it shows mainly on the food. The climate is bizarre: the sun heats you up and makes you sweat, but the breeze is chilly. I’m surprised I didn’t get sick. People there are terminally nice and customer service is incredibly great at large!

The views and the scenery are what you would expect of a city lining a docking bay: boats and seagulls abound, and sunsets are quite tranquil and pretty. Nothing much that is missing in this island, though. Only detail is that the city is cleaner and more orderly (and, of course, this being California, you have way much more chances of running into the beautiful and famous – not an exceptionally great plus to me). It’s expensive, and the people there seem to be living life much more preoccupied with how they look than with what they think. Maybe I’m mistaken, though.

I noticed two distinct social classes: the upscale rich kids, visiting Old Town for an afternoon of shopping, and the Mexicans, either obviously service workers and maids, or kids out into the other part of town that’s somewhat less refined, less touristic – the part of town I would have liked to get to know better.

BTW: Trains got to me. Line cars were pretty and quaint – I had never seen one in real life. But trains are something else. I had seen the Metro at NYC, which is wonderfully engrossing and I will forever be in love with it. But the train in San Diego was the first actual freight train I’ve seen in my life. I couldn’t have fathomed the length of these vehicles, and no one could have conveyed to me the attention their prescence commands … at least the attention they command from me. I’m in love with trains. That much I can say.

I’m helplessly in love with New York City, this much I could surmise by visiting yet another place that does not fulfill and does not command the heart the same way New York has.

But fun was had, the company was insurmountably great… would do it again in a heartbeat. But let me rest for a year before … the flight over there is too long and restless.

Also: I read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows during my trip: FUCK Mrs. Rowlings! I feel cheated …