For those of you who have been visiting my blog and wondering, Wow, this sucks, there's nothing new! Well, that's because I started a new blog...and thanks for saying my blog sucks. I have to admit, I didn't post much on here since I created a specific voice for myself here, and didn't have many stories to tell or advice to give after I had been in Italy for some time. Sorry about that.
I will keep this one up, but don't expect much. Just saying. I am taking my blogging much more seriously nowadays and would like to take it to the next level.
If you'd like to follow me and my travels, you can do so here.
Hope to see you at the new place...er, blog!
Saturday, May 7, 2016
Tuesday, February 16, 2016
5 Reasons Why Being a Hopeless Romantic Sucks (Or, The Cons of Being a Hopeless Romantic)
Hi, my name is Nikki and I'm a recovering Hopeless Romantic. *crowd groans the obligatorily "Hi Nikki"*
With Valentine's Day coming up, I started reflecting on why I have disowned my previous identity as a Hopeless Romantic and what that means for my future self. I can't help but feel calloused to this holiday, even when I was a naive girl with my head in the clouds waiting for something amazing to happen, it just seemed like this holiday wasn't all it was chalked up to be. No, I'm not one of those girls who expected two dozen pristine red roses, luxurious chocolates, and jewelry, because I do recognize the capitalism behind the "Hallmark" holiday. However, I did expect something heartfelt and romantic from the person who cares about me and knows me well. Is that too much to ask?
But, that's only a fraction of the reason of how I came to my conclusion: Being a romantic IS hopeless, especially this day and age. With the instant gratification of swiping left (or is it right? I don't know, I've never used Tinder), double tapping pictures, and exchanging raunchy self-deleting messages and pictures, it's pretty obvious that our generation has lost the art of romance. The few of us who do still hope for something out of (insert any romantic movie title here) are left to hide behind a necessary mask as to not show our vulnerability in fear of being attacked. We are the minority, the open hearts not afraid to love, even when it hurts. Fall [in love], get hurt, cry, stand up, brush yourself off, move forward, repeat.
5 Reasons Why Being a Hopeless Romantic Sucks
1. Unrealistic Expectations
We watch too many sappy movies, and then wonder why there is no one out there who will do that for us. We secretly want grand gestures, emotional declarations of love, and the passion that follows a big fight just like in the movies. Why can't we just have that? Oh yeah, because it's unrealistic. No one wants to make everyday things into a big deal or have big fights just to make up. That shit takes a lot of energy and many people like to call that "drama". I've been told I expect too much from my partners, and maybe that's true, but if they really loved me, they would do it because it makes me happy...right? Wrong. The ideal relationship you have in your head will never exist because it's not just about you. You also need to consider the other person in the relationship and be realistic. As much as you hate to admit it, let alone hear it, life is not like the movies. Hi, we live in reality.
2. Disappointment
Referring back to #1, having expectations that are not met inevitably leads to disappointment. I think this is the worst part of anything in life. We set ourselves up for disappointment by thinking someone will take a hint and do that romantic thing we told them about, thinking they are secretly planning something, or hoping they change. Even if they do something that is their idea of romance, it never quite reaches our expectations and we are left disappointed even when they do do something. This is a fault in ourselves and not the other person.
3. Unequal Relationships
We give too much. Plain and simple. We give too much thinking the other person will put just as much into the relationship if we initiate. However, this is flawed thinking. It's not truly a thoughtful gift or a nice gesture if we secretly expect something in return. That's not to say that the other person shouldn't return the favor at some point, because relationships are give and take, but somehow we always end up with the takers. It's never 50/50.
4. Lots of Heartbreak
It seems we never learn. Either we want to make it work with the wrong person (see Takers above), or we try to force a situation that is not meant to be. From a young age we experience the sadness of broken heart and as we grow, it seems to never stop. Maybe we're too open, maybe we just simply want it to work out they way we have it in our minds, but along the path of love, it seems we fall down more than most.
5. You Don't Give Up...Even When You Should
Even when we've had our hearts stepped on, battered, beaten, bruised and shattered, we still somehow manage to see a light at the end of the tunnel. We continue in the darkness with a glimmer of hope and we truly believe things will get better. We'll find our One, have the grand realization that our dreams have come true and things will all come together and finally make sense. After all the bullshit we've been through and put up with in our past, we still press on with positivity and hope. That, my friends, is strength...or stupidity. It depends on your perspective, but since this post is about why being a hopeless romantic sucks, I'll argue the latter. Why would you possibly still have this ridiculous idea of THE ONE and fill your mind with Hollywood versions of what relationships are and forever be let down? Don't hold onto those toxic relationships, don't put up with anyone else's bullshit and don't allow your heart to run your life because your heart has no logic. You will only hurt yourself. And that's even worse than someone else hurting you because you had the power to change it.
Stay tuned for the Pros of Being a Hopeless Romantic, because everything needs some balance and I don't want to sound too much like a cynical bitch.
With Valentine's Day coming up, I started reflecting on why I have disowned my previous identity as a Hopeless Romantic and what that means for my future self. I can't help but feel calloused to this holiday, even when I was a naive girl with my head in the clouds waiting for something amazing to happen, it just seemed like this holiday wasn't all it was chalked up to be. No, I'm not one of those girls who expected two dozen pristine red roses, luxurious chocolates, and jewelry, because I do recognize the capitalism behind the "Hallmark" holiday. However, I did expect something heartfelt and romantic from the person who cares about me and knows me well. Is that too much to ask?
But, that's only a fraction of the reason of how I came to my conclusion: Being a romantic IS hopeless, especially this day and age. With the instant gratification of swiping left (or is it right? I don't know, I've never used Tinder), double tapping pictures, and exchanging raunchy self-deleting messages and pictures, it's pretty obvious that our generation has lost the art of romance. The few of us who do still hope for something out of (insert any romantic movie title here) are left to hide behind a necessary mask as to not show our vulnerability in fear of being attacked. We are the minority, the open hearts not afraid to love, even when it hurts. Fall [in love], get hurt, cry, stand up, brush yourself off, move forward, repeat.
5 Reasons Why Being a Hopeless Romantic Sucks
1. Unrealistic Expectations
We watch too many sappy movies, and then wonder why there is no one out there who will do that for us. We secretly want grand gestures, emotional declarations of love, and the passion that follows a big fight just like in the movies. Why can't we just have that? Oh yeah, because it's unrealistic. No one wants to make everyday things into a big deal or have big fights just to make up. That shit takes a lot of energy and many people like to call that "drama". I've been told I expect too much from my partners, and maybe that's true, but if they really loved me, they would do it because it makes me happy...right? Wrong. The ideal relationship you have in your head will never exist because it's not just about you. You also need to consider the other person in the relationship and be realistic. As much as you hate to admit it, let alone hear it, life is not like the movies. Hi, we live in reality.
2. Disappointment
Referring back to #1, having expectations that are not met inevitably leads to disappointment. I think this is the worst part of anything in life. We set ourselves up for disappointment by thinking someone will take a hint and do that romantic thing we told them about, thinking they are secretly planning something, or hoping they change. Even if they do something that is their idea of romance, it never quite reaches our expectations and we are left disappointed even when they do do something. This is a fault in ourselves and not the other person.
3. Unequal Relationships
We give too much. Plain and simple. We give too much thinking the other person will put just as much into the relationship if we initiate. However, this is flawed thinking. It's not truly a thoughtful gift or a nice gesture if we secretly expect something in return. That's not to say that the other person shouldn't return the favor at some point, because relationships are give and take, but somehow we always end up with the takers. It's never 50/50.
4. Lots of Heartbreak
It seems we never learn. Either we want to make it work with the wrong person (see Takers above), or we try to force a situation that is not meant to be. From a young age we experience the sadness of broken heart and as we grow, it seems to never stop. Maybe we're too open, maybe we just simply want it to work out they way we have it in our minds, but along the path of love, it seems we fall down more than most.
5. You Don't Give Up...Even When You Should
Even when we've had our hearts stepped on, battered, beaten, bruised and shattered, we still somehow manage to see a light at the end of the tunnel. We continue in the darkness with a glimmer of hope and we truly believe things will get better. We'll find our One, have the grand realization that our dreams have come true and things will all come together and finally make sense. After all the bullshit we've been through and put up with in our past, we still press on with positivity and hope. That, my friends, is strength...or stupidity. It depends on your perspective, but since this post is about why being a hopeless romantic sucks, I'll argue the latter. Why would you possibly still have this ridiculous idea of THE ONE and fill your mind with Hollywood versions of what relationships are and forever be let down? Don't hold onto those toxic relationships, don't put up with anyone else's bullshit and don't allow your heart to run your life because your heart has no logic. You will only hurt yourself. And that's even worse than someone else hurting you because you had the power to change it.
Stay tuned for the Pros of Being a Hopeless Romantic, because everything needs some balance and I don't want to sound too much like a cynical bitch.
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
How I Found My Apartment in Florence, Italy
When I was first looking for my own apartment after leaving my au pair family, I had no idea what to expect. Not only is finding an apartment in Florence much more difficult than I thought (and that's saying a lot coming from LA where finding a decent apartment for a decent price is like searching for a needle in a haystack), it is even more stressful to find the right people to live with. As an American, I was worried about living with random people from other cultures, who would basically be the equivalent of Craigslist roommates. Would my stuff get stolen when I'm not home? Will I feel safe? Would there be huge, awkward and unmanageable cultural differences? Will I wake up to my toes being sucked on? Um, I'll pass, thanks. But no judgements if you're into that type of thing. Do you, boo boo!
 |
| "Is it cool if I shave my pubes in here?" |
My apartment search was taking longer than I was hoping, so out of desperation, I began looking on every lamp post, website and bulletin board in the city for an ad in my price range. Without much luck online, and calling the numbers of old flyers in the library just to be told in Italian that the room had been rented, I was seriously considering living under a bridge. Homelessness doesn't sound like such a bad idea when disguised as an adventure! Finally, I heard of a Facebook page that is a place where people advertise rooms for rent in the city. Apparently Craigslist isn't really a huge thing here, but it does exist. Who knew that website where you waste so many hours of your life at a time would actually be useful here!
With more denials and more frustration, I had to expand my search yet again. This time, it was considering living with the opposite sex. As I thought about all the awful (and/or amazing) things that could happen living with boys, I cringed and fantasized at the same time. After only a few inquiries, I got some serious responses. This got my thinking, are they only responding because of my profile picture? I took a chance and went to see them anyway. After seeing a place that could only be described as sticky, decorated with Infected Mushroom posters and empty bottles of SKYY, it was a relief to see the next place. Sure, there was a centimeter of dust covering the tile floor and an old couch upside down in a space that maybe was supposed to be a living room, but it felt good. There were two Italian guys, who couldn't have been more opposite in style and demeanor, but they were nice, and I didn't get creepy vibes from them at all. Those could have been infamous last words, but thankfully, it was true. They had just rented the whole apartment after the last tenants left, who were apparently disgusting students and left everything a mess. They were in the process of cleaning everything out and getting ready to move in. It was going to be a fresh start.
I moved in two days later into my own room, with clean floors, newly painted walls, a few pieces of old furniture, and I even managed to get a double bed. It's common in Italy to tie together two twin sized beds to make a matrimoniale (king size bed), since it's cheaper than to buy a large bed in one piece, not to mention easier to move in through the small hallways and doors. So, with a few zip ties, some elbow grease to reuse some of that old furniture and a trip to IKEA later, I was all settled in.
I live with three Italian boys, 2 of whom are students, and the other is a sommelier at a restaurant, which means a constant stock of good (not to mention free) wine. Score! They're not so bad, although one of them barely speaks English and the other two are a bit rusty, it's been a lot of fun. The cultural differences and language barriers were hilarious in the beginning, but now we are actually learning from each other. I have some great stories which I will share in future posts. Stay tuned!
Do you have any hilarious/weird/gross apartment searching or roommate stories? Share in the comments below!
Saturday, January 9, 2016
Why Life is Like Riding a Bike
Today I bought a bike in Florence. A used, rusty, basic, non-shock-absorbing bike, equipped with a metal basket in the front, a little pink bell, and even a kickstand. Oh yeah.
As I was riding home with a wet, sore ass (well, struggling in that general direction since I realize I always use my GPS and I wasn't able to while riding), a light, simple smile shone across my face as I realized something on this gray, damp Florence day. Life is like riding a bike.
I haven't ridden a bike probably since I was 12, and it felt so awkward mounting something now that wasn't a man. Can I make a reference to sweet childhood memories and my sexual escapades in adulthood in the same sentence without it being in bad taste...? Oh well. I was in public, feeling like Bambi with wheels, and not knowing the rules of road, but was I kidding, it's Italy; there are no rules! I was scared shitless riding on the street with all the scooters, motorscylces and tiny little cars honking and swerving around me, trucks driving 6 inches from my handlebars and all the weird street directions that change in an instant. Next thing you know, you're going the wrong way down a one way street and you can't even ride in straight line. It was awful and scary, yet so liberating all at the same time.
Once I got the hang of it, it all came rushing back to me. Just as I got cocky, I remembered what it felt like to fall off a bike. As an adult, I found myself thinking: These leggings were expensive, the road is wet from last night's rain and I don't even know how to wash this coat. I don't want to be the stupid American girl who falls off her bike and everyone laughs at. What if I hurt myself? I do have bad knees. Damn, my knees...I'm out of shape. Did it always take this much work to push the pedals? I used to be able to ride with no hands. HA! I still do...what is wrong with me?
With the wind in my face and actually having to think about where I'm going without using my phone as a crutch, I enjoyed the feeling of that first freedom of having my own wheels. When you're a kid, having a bike was the best. You feel like you can go anywhere and do anything. You are in complete control. I felt something similar.
In life, we all have good experiences and bad ones. We learn from the bad and reminisce about the good. Some things we only need to experience once to learn from, while other things take a few dozen times until we get it right (like my love life....still waiting to learn that lesson). Riding a bike is literally something you never forget how to do, even if you haven't done it in years. It may be scary at first, but once you get the hang of it, it seems like a piece of cake. That's kind of how I feel about living at the moment. It's all too easy to get caught up in life, even abroad, worrying about jobs, money, bills, and daily life. But today, with the wind in my hair and the steady rythm of pushing the pedals, I felt like I reconnected with a part of me that had been forgotten. The part of me that wants to travel, appreciates the little things, and is open to new experiences and paths. I fell off my methaphorical bike for a few months being consumed by everyday problems and worrying way too much, but really all I needed was to get back on and enjoy the breeze on my face, even if I didn't know which direction I was going. With all the ups and downs over the past year, this was a great reminder to myself to live. Don't get caught up in what everyone else is doing, just do what makes you happy and keeps you on the path to your goals. Albeit cheesey, it's true.
I now have a bike in Florence. I am officially a Fiorentina. One step closer to being the Italian I'll never actually be. Now, let's just hope it doesn't get stolen.
As I was riding home with a wet, sore ass (well, struggling in that general direction since I realize I always use my GPS and I wasn't able to while riding), a light, simple smile shone across my face as I realized something on this gray, damp Florence day. Life is like riding a bike.
I haven't ridden a bike probably since I was 12, and it felt so awkward mounting something now that wasn't a man. Can I make a reference to sweet childhood memories and my sexual escapades in adulthood in the same sentence without it being in bad taste...? Oh well. I was in public, feeling like Bambi with wheels, and not knowing the rules of road, but was I kidding, it's Italy; there are no rules! I was scared shitless riding on the street with all the scooters, motorscylces and tiny little cars honking and swerving around me, trucks driving 6 inches from my handlebars and all the weird street directions that change in an instant. Next thing you know, you're going the wrong way down a one way street and you can't even ride in straight line. It was awful and scary, yet so liberating all at the same time.
Once I got the hang of it, it all came rushing back to me. Just as I got cocky, I remembered what it felt like to fall off a bike. As an adult, I found myself thinking: These leggings were expensive, the road is wet from last night's rain and I don't even know how to wash this coat. I don't want to be the stupid American girl who falls off her bike and everyone laughs at. What if I hurt myself? I do have bad knees. Damn, my knees...I'm out of shape. Did it always take this much work to push the pedals? I used to be able to ride with no hands. HA! I still do...what is wrong with me?
With the wind in my face and actually having to think about where I'm going without using my phone as a crutch, I enjoyed the feeling of that first freedom of having my own wheels. When you're a kid, having a bike was the best. You feel like you can go anywhere and do anything. You are in complete control. I felt something similar.
 |
| This bike is not mine. Also, I bet it was stolen shortly after this picture was taken. |
In life, we all have good experiences and bad ones. We learn from the bad and reminisce about the good. Some things we only need to experience once to learn from, while other things take a few dozen times until we get it right (like my love life....still waiting to learn that lesson). Riding a bike is literally something you never forget how to do, even if you haven't done it in years. It may be scary at first, but once you get the hang of it, it seems like a piece of cake. That's kind of how I feel about living at the moment. It's all too easy to get caught up in life, even abroad, worrying about jobs, money, bills, and daily life. But today, with the wind in my hair and the steady rythm of pushing the pedals, I felt like I reconnected with a part of me that had been forgotten. The part of me that wants to travel, appreciates the little things, and is open to new experiences and paths. I fell off my methaphorical bike for a few months being consumed by everyday problems and worrying way too much, but really all I needed was to get back on and enjoy the breeze on my face, even if I didn't know which direction I was going. With all the ups and downs over the past year, this was a great reminder to myself to live. Don't get caught up in what everyone else is doing, just do what makes you happy and keeps you on the path to your goals. Albeit cheesey, it's true.
I now have a bike in Florence. I am officially a Fiorentina. One step closer to being the Italian I'll never actually be. Now, let's just hope it doesn't get stolen.
Thursday, December 3, 2015
Reverse Culture Shock: Returning Home After Being Abroad
It's a strange thing you feel when you realize you no longer fit into your native culture the way you used to. Traveling changes you, opens your eyes, your heart and your mind. After being in the US for almost a month and coming back to Italy, I see a lot of differences in myself I hadn't noticed abroad, as well as seeing my own culture through a new lens.
The first week back home in LA was kind of a blur. I was jet-lagged, scrambling to see my friends and family, and constantly thinking about my visa application I had submitted the day after I landed. Being surrounded by the people I love was a great feeling and I really missed everyone, but I couldn't help but notice something was...off. With every conversation I had, my suspicions had grown into the obvious truth: I don't fit here anymore. While everyone around me seemed to be talking about money, status, and striving for the way to live, I found myself witnessing things as an outsider. Sometimes I felt like I wasn't even in the room. I didn't relate to anything they were talking about anymore and that's when I realized.
I've changed, I've grown.
I don't see it as a bad thing, but I knew that I felt different. I'd been living in another country for the past three months and have grown accustomed to the Italian ways of doing everyday things, so of course I felt out of place. I had forgotten what full-fledged capitalism felt like. Everyone-out-for-themselves-dog-eat-dog-money-hungry hustling. Oh yeah...this is America. I was now seeing what people from other countries were talking about when they spoke about typical American culture. It was weird seeing my own culture through a semi-Italian lens. I'm not saying it's bad or wrong to think or behave the way most Americans do, it's just different than what I had gotten used to. I was forced to adapt, but I had done it much better than I realized. Italians are about family, community and helping each other out. I will admit, I had a pretty hard time taking help when I first arrived. I had my American pride. I wanted to figure things out on my own, get what I needed, and feel proud to say that I did it myself. But this way of thinking caused me a lot of frustration and it wasn't until later that I realized I need people around me to care and want to help. Once I accepted that, I felt much more at home. Call it maturation, realizing I can't do it all on my own, or adapting to the Italian way. Whatever the reason, I needed to be humbled, and I was. After awhile, I found myself helping people out whenever I could, too. Plus, you know, seeing confused tourists looking at an upside down map just got annoying, so I figured I might as well try to be part of the solution for everyone and send their simple asses on their way. The sidewalk needed to be cleared for people who actually have somewhere to be. You're welcome, Florence.
"Where is the Duomo? I can't see anything with this huge church in the way!"
Another thing I noticed was how inadequate I felt when my friends talked about their ambitions. According to everyone around me, at my ripe age of a 20-something with a college degree, I should have started a full-time career with benefits by now, living in my own apartment, and planning my next steps for the future. In Italy, I literally have none of those things. I am barely getting by stringing a few part-part-time jobs together to pay for the room I rent in an apartment with my three Italian boy roommates, I'm without health insurance and I am nowhere near being financially stable as someone my age "should be".
I have no idea what my 5-year plan looks like. I can barely see past next week, let alone five years from now! I do, however, get drunk on fancy Italian wine a lot, so there’s that. It felt so great being back in LA (sarcasm alert--read: It fucking sucked). Yes, I also saw that so-and-so from high school is working at that big company with a nice salary and is newly engaged, thanks Mom, now get off Facebook. Is it just me, or does it seem like social media was specifically designed to allow people to over exaggerate small bullshit victories solely to make other people jealous, yet we all secretly feel insecure so we continue the cycle of bragging to make ourselves feel better? Nobody seriously loves their job that much or truly can’t get over how amazing their significant other is to where they have to tell the world every fucking Monday and Wednesday how in love they are or how hot they think their boyfriend is. Yes, we get it. Woah, that escalated quickly. What was I saying? Oh, right, my crappy little life.
Sounds way more awesome if you ask me.
But in all seriousness, it was much different being home than I imagined. First I didn’t want to have to go because I felt I was just getting into the rhythm of things in Italy, then when I knew there was no getting around it, I got excited to go and see my friends and family and be somewhere familiar and actually be able to talk to people in public. Then, once I arrived, my expectations were completely turned upside down and I felt like an alien. The hardest part was feeling disconnected from my friends. They were talking about the same old things and there I was, having only been gone three months, yet feeling I lived on another planet for a year. On the bright side, everyone told me I seemed happier than ever. That much was true. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what my job is, how much money I have, or what people expect of me; I made the leap to do something not many people I know would have the guts to do. For that much, I am proud. I have the courage, ambition and faith to follow my dreams. During those times I start to get down on myself when I think of where I thought I would be at this point in my life, the career I wanted and the type of American Dream I had when I was younger, I have to stop and realize that I am doing something amazing and completely different than I thought, but in the best way possible. It takes time to build something out of nothing, and that’s exactly what I’m doing—starting my life in another country. After all, Rome wasn’t built in a day.
The first week back home in LA was kind of a blur. I was jet-lagged, scrambling to see my friends and family, and constantly thinking about my visa application I had submitted the day after I landed. Being surrounded by the people I love was a great feeling and I really missed everyone, but I couldn't help but notice something was...off. With every conversation I had, my suspicions had grown into the obvious truth: I don't fit here anymore. While everyone around me seemed to be talking about money, status, and striving for the way to live, I found myself witnessing things as an outsider. Sometimes I felt like I wasn't even in the room. I didn't relate to anything they were talking about anymore and that's when I realized.
I've changed, I've grown.
I don't see it as a bad thing, but I knew that I felt different. I'd been living in another country for the past three months and have grown accustomed to the Italian ways of doing everyday things, so of course I felt out of place. I had forgotten what full-fledged capitalism felt like. Everyone-out-for-themselves-dog-eat-dog-money-hungry hustling. Oh yeah...this is America. I was now seeing what people from other countries were talking about when they spoke about typical American culture. It was weird seeing my own culture through a semi-Italian lens. I'm not saying it's bad or wrong to think or behave the way most Americans do, it's just different than what I had gotten used to. I was forced to adapt, but I had done it much better than I realized. Italians are about family, community and helping each other out. I will admit, I had a pretty hard time taking help when I first arrived. I had my American pride. I wanted to figure things out on my own, get what I needed, and feel proud to say that I did it myself. But this way of thinking caused me a lot of frustration and it wasn't until later that I realized I need people around me to care and want to help. Once I accepted that, I felt much more at home. Call it maturation, realizing I can't do it all on my own, or adapting to the Italian way. Whatever the reason, I needed to be humbled, and I was. After awhile, I found myself helping people out whenever I could, too. Plus, you know, seeing confused tourists looking at an upside down map just got annoying, so I figured I might as well try to be part of the solution for everyone and send their simple asses on their way. The sidewalk needed to be cleared for people who actually have somewhere to be. You're welcome, Florence.
"Where is the Duomo? I can't see anything with this huge church in the way!"
Another thing I noticed was how inadequate I felt when my friends talked about their ambitions. According to everyone around me, at my ripe age of a 20-something with a college degree, I should have started a full-time career with benefits by now, living in my own apartment, and planning my next steps for the future. In Italy, I literally have none of those things. I am barely getting by stringing a few part-part-time jobs together to pay for the room I rent in an apartment with my three Italian boy roommates, I'm without health insurance and I am nowhere near being financially stable as someone my age "should be".
I have no idea what my 5-year plan looks like. I can barely see past next week, let alone five years from now! I do, however, get drunk on fancy Italian wine a lot, so there’s that. It felt so great being back in LA (sarcasm alert--read: It fucking sucked). Yes, I also saw that so-and-so from high school is working at that big company with a nice salary and is newly engaged, thanks Mom, now get off Facebook. Is it just me, or does it seem like social media was specifically designed to allow people to over exaggerate small bullshit victories solely to make other people jealous, yet we all secretly feel insecure so we continue the cycle of bragging to make ourselves feel better? Nobody seriously loves their job that much or truly can’t get over how amazing their significant other is to where they have to tell the world every fucking Monday and Wednesday how in love they are or how hot they think their boyfriend is. Yes, we get it. Woah, that escalated quickly. What was I saying? Oh, right, my crappy little life.
Sounds way more awesome if you ask me.
But in all seriousness, it was much different being home than I imagined. First I didn’t want to have to go because I felt I was just getting into the rhythm of things in Italy, then when I knew there was no getting around it, I got excited to go and see my friends and family and be somewhere familiar and actually be able to talk to people in public. Then, once I arrived, my expectations were completely turned upside down and I felt like an alien. The hardest part was feeling disconnected from my friends. They were talking about the same old things and there I was, having only been gone three months, yet feeling I lived on another planet for a year. On the bright side, everyone told me I seemed happier than ever. That much was true. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what my job is, how much money I have, or what people expect of me; I made the leap to do something not many people I know would have the guts to do. For that much, I am proud. I have the courage, ambition and faith to follow my dreams. During those times I start to get down on myself when I think of where I thought I would be at this point in my life, the career I wanted and the type of American Dream I had when I was younger, I have to stop and realize that I am doing something amazing and completely different than I thought, but in the best way possible. It takes time to build something out of nothing, and that’s exactly what I’m doing—starting my life in another country. After all, Rome wasn’t built in a day.
Monday, November 30, 2015
Status Update: I Got My Italian Visa!
"Here I am, sitting in a Starbucks down the street from my house in my hometown and I feel....out of place. I definitely don't belong here anymore." - Me
First of all, apologies for the lack of posts in the past month or two. I am a horrible blogger, but for the record, I never claimed to be such a thing but a girl trying to live her life and share some experiences while she's at it. But seriously, I'll do better, I promise.
This is just a quick post to serve as an update before the heavy stuff comes through. In a nutshell, after trying to find loopholes, alternate routes and some way around the devastatingly obvious path, I had to come back to LA for my student visa appointment in order to stay longer than the allotted 90 days. I tried [almost] everything from asking for a work visa at my job, to even considering getting married-- Hey random, hot Italian guy, wanna marry me? No? Fine! You think about the consequences to your actions the next time you cat call an American girl on the streets of Florence with that sexy Italian accent. Oh yeah, we're crazy!
As I was saying, I tried almost everything until finally I found an accredited and fairly priced language school willing to help me out with my student visa. Almost every expat I spoke to mentioned it and I thought I'd give it a shot. With a few weeks of feeling like a rebel and overstaying my tourist time of 90 days, less than half of the money previously in my bank account and a lot of hope, I flew home for my visa appointment. Well, after a total of 4 months, a lot of stress, worrying and hard work, and a complete change in circumstances later and here I am with my Italian Study Visa in hand! It feels like a miracle. I will post about the school and that process soon.
So, I'm back in Italy after almost a full month in LA waiting on the consulate to process my visa so I could have my passport back. Although I had to suck it up and fly back home leaving my new jobs hanging hoping they'll be there when I get back, everything worked out for the better because I got my visa, I got to visit all my friends and family, and I got to be home for Thanksgiving, which was entirely unexpected when I embarked on my journey earlier this year. I couldn't have been happier.
Sometimes following the rules isn't so bad....well, kinda following the rules. Stay tuned for my next few posts I have coming up about the visa process, how I did it, and what not to do!
First of all, apologies for the lack of posts in the past month or two. I am a horrible blogger, but for the record, I never claimed to be such a thing but a girl trying to live her life and share some experiences while she's at it. But seriously, I'll do better, I promise.
This is just a quick post to serve as an update before the heavy stuff comes through. In a nutshell, after trying to find loopholes, alternate routes and some way around the devastatingly obvious path, I had to come back to LA for my student visa appointment in order to stay longer than the allotted 90 days. I tried [almost] everything from asking for a work visa at my job, to even considering getting married-- Hey random, hot Italian guy, wanna marry me? No? Fine! You think about the consequences to your actions the next time you cat call an American girl on the streets of Florence with that sexy Italian accent. Oh yeah, we're crazy!
As I was saying, I tried almost everything until finally I found an accredited and fairly priced language school willing to help me out with my student visa. Almost every expat I spoke to mentioned it and I thought I'd give it a shot. With a few weeks of feeling like a rebel and overstaying my tourist time of 90 days, less than half of the money previously in my bank account and a lot of hope, I flew home for my visa appointment. Well, after a total of 4 months, a lot of stress, worrying and hard work, and a complete change in circumstances later and here I am with my Italian Study Visa in hand! It feels like a miracle. I will post about the school and that process soon.
So, I'm back in Italy after almost a full month in LA waiting on the consulate to process my visa so I could have my passport back. Although I had to suck it up and fly back home leaving my new jobs hanging hoping they'll be there when I get back, everything worked out for the better because I got my visa, I got to visit all my friends and family, and I got to be home for Thanksgiving, which was entirely unexpected when I embarked on my journey earlier this year. I couldn't have been happier.
Sometimes following the rules isn't so bad....well, kinda following the rules. Stay tuned for my next few posts I have coming up about the visa process, how I did it, and what not to do!
Saturday, September 5, 2015
Traveling To Get Over A Break Up
Traveling is a great way to get over a break up. This isn't my first time running from my problems, and personally, I'd recommend it, but then again, you shouldn't take any of my advice about love. Seriously, what the hell do I know? If I had the answers, I wouldn't have been to all the low places I have come to know like the back of my hand. Despite the popular saying "Don't run from your problems", it's actually been a great way for me to feel like I tackle them head on. It's kind of an oxymoron to me now. No matter where you are, you will run into yourself eventually and traveling gives you a lot of solo time, which also means time to think. Everything kind of sorts itself out in my subconscious because it's constantly in the back of my mind, no matter where I am or what I'm doing. I have learned that pushing myself out of my comfort zone really makes me bounce back simply because I have to. Sure, I sulk on the couch with ice cream, wine and Netflix just like any other girl, then I have the period where I go out every weekend, drink, flirt and have a few one nighters, but that gets old real quick. In my early 20s, that was the norm, but now I feel different. Call it maturity or the fact that I don't speak Italian well enough to flirt, but I haven't been interested in that cycle this time.
Let me fill you in.
The day I left, S and I were on good terms (shockingly enough), and to be honest, a small part of me thought about staying because things were...well, nice, really nice. But, I remembered why I was doing this and I suddenly felt really good about my decision. No tears, no regrets about leaving the relationship I knew in my gut wasn't right. I was looking forward to my future for the first time in a long time, and that was just for me. For a few weeks after I left, we would text and Skype, laugh about inside jokes, and admit we missed each other, but I was actually doing well. I never thought about going back to him, and I knew this was for good, but he still acted like I was going to have some groundbreaking realization and jump on the next flight back to LA to run into his arms. Nah. The more days that passed, the more sure I was. I was happy. I was excited about waking up in the morning to explore my new surroundings and loved the thought of not having to worry about anyone else. I did what I wanted, when I wanted and it was amazing. Freedom.
During this time, I realized that he was still hanging on and it was partially my fault because I was still talking to him like a best friend when he reached out. Remember, we hadn't had sex for the last 2 months of our living together because I just didn't feel it anymore. I still think that made it much easier to break off when it was time for me to go, since there was much less emotional baggage between us. He wasn't happy about it, I'm sure, but that's what I decided and I'm glad it worked out that way. Anyway, he started bringing up the good aspects of our relationship a lot more and that's when I realized I needed to cut him off. About a month into being gone, it was time. I had a few glasses of wine with dinner, came home and looked at my phone. Right before I made the call, it hit me. Why was I crying now? Was it the alcohol? Was it the fact that I was about to really leave him? Was it the feeling of losing a friend? I didn't know, but I had to do it. He answered, we small talked and I dropped the bomb, with tears. He understood and said he was beginning to get angry with me for leaving, so it was good timing. In all this time, he had some new opportunities come up, changed jobs, and talked to a girl or two. I wasn't jealous, or even mad or hurt. I wanted him to move on, because I knew I was. That's what made me feel ok after we hung up and I was glad.
After 2 weeks of no contact, he wrote me something about our dog and I didn't respond. A few days later, he texted me again. This time I answered and we ended up chatting for a few hours, on and off, talking about regrets and sorrows in our relationship and things that should have gone differently. The chat turned into a phone call and the phone call turned into closure. He apologized for some things, I apologized for some things, and in the end it made me really happy to hear him say out loud what he learned from it all. What shocked me even more was when he hit the nail on the head with the turning point of our relationship, which ultimately led to its downfall being his fault. Thank you! That was it.
"You took your suite case, I took the blame..." (what's that song called??)
Being on the move since I left has really done me a world of good. Not only was it the opportunity to start a new chapter for myself, I've had a lot of time for self reflection. Planes, trains and busses. I carried my journal everywhere with me, and still do for the most part, which always gives me the option to turn my solo lunch into productive me-time. I can't call my best friend to distract me at any time, I can't head my favorite, comfortable spot in town, or go out and have my friends buy me shots and tell me that the hot bartender has been eyeing me all night. Traveling distracts you to a point, but I truly believe it also forces you to learn about yourself more than in any other situation at home; double time if it's paired with a break up.
(Break Up - Comfort Zone) + Travel = Escape + Alone Time = Self Reflection = Realization = Healing
Not only is it hard to be sad when I'm in my favorite city, I can't stop thinking about all the things I need to do to get my life started here. Goals keep me motivated and moving forward. Not to mention, lots of hot Italian eye candy to distract me and make me fantasize about future rendezvous.
My advice: Say Fuck it and use the breakup as an excuse to go somewhere you've never gone, but have always wanted to. You can thank me later when you have the best experience of your life. Ride a camel, hike Machu Picchu, go wine tasting in Italy, learn yoga in Bali. Just go somewhere! Eat Pray Love that shit!
Have you ever traveled after a break up? How was it?
Let me fill you in.
The day I left, S and I were on good terms (shockingly enough), and to be honest, a small part of me thought about staying because things were...well, nice, really nice. But, I remembered why I was doing this and I suddenly felt really good about my decision. No tears, no regrets about leaving the relationship I knew in my gut wasn't right. I was looking forward to my future for the first time in a long time, and that was just for me. For a few weeks after I left, we would text and Skype, laugh about inside jokes, and admit we missed each other, but I was actually doing well. I never thought about going back to him, and I knew this was for good, but he still acted like I was going to have some groundbreaking realization and jump on the next flight back to LA to run into his arms. Nah. The more days that passed, the more sure I was. I was happy. I was excited about waking up in the morning to explore my new surroundings and loved the thought of not having to worry about anyone else. I did what I wanted, when I wanted and it was amazing. Freedom.
 |
| She's pondering life...and smiling. |
During this time, I realized that he was still hanging on and it was partially my fault because I was still talking to him like a best friend when he reached out. Remember, we hadn't had sex for the last 2 months of our living together because I just didn't feel it anymore. I still think that made it much easier to break off when it was time for me to go, since there was much less emotional baggage between us. He wasn't happy about it, I'm sure, but that's what I decided and I'm glad it worked out that way. Anyway, he started bringing up the good aspects of our relationship a lot more and that's when I realized I needed to cut him off. About a month into being gone, it was time. I had a few glasses of wine with dinner, came home and looked at my phone. Right before I made the call, it hit me. Why was I crying now? Was it the alcohol? Was it the fact that I was about to really leave him? Was it the feeling of losing a friend? I didn't know, but I had to do it. He answered, we small talked and I dropped the bomb, with tears. He understood and said he was beginning to get angry with me for leaving, so it was good timing. In all this time, he had some new opportunities come up, changed jobs, and talked to a girl or two. I wasn't jealous, or even mad or hurt. I wanted him to move on, because I knew I was. That's what made me feel ok after we hung up and I was glad.
After 2 weeks of no contact, he wrote me something about our dog and I didn't respond. A few days later, he texted me again. This time I answered and we ended up chatting for a few hours, on and off, talking about regrets and sorrows in our relationship and things that should have gone differently. The chat turned into a phone call and the phone call turned into closure. He apologized for some things, I apologized for some things, and in the end it made me really happy to hear him say out loud what he learned from it all. What shocked me even more was when he hit the nail on the head with the turning point of our relationship, which ultimately led to its downfall being his fault. Thank you! That was it.
"You took your suite case, I took the blame..." (what's that song called??)
Being on the move since I left has really done me a world of good. Not only was it the opportunity to start a new chapter for myself, I've had a lot of time for self reflection. Planes, trains and busses. I carried my journal everywhere with me, and still do for the most part, which always gives me the option to turn my solo lunch into productive me-time. I can't call my best friend to distract me at any time, I can't head my favorite, comfortable spot in town, or go out and have my friends buy me shots and tell me that the hot bartender has been eyeing me all night. Traveling distracts you to a point, but I truly believe it also forces you to learn about yourself more than in any other situation at home; double time if it's paired with a break up.
(Break Up - Comfort Zone) + Travel = Escape + Alone Time = Self Reflection = Realization = Healing
Not only is it hard to be sad when I'm in my favorite city, I can't stop thinking about all the things I need to do to get my life started here. Goals keep me motivated and moving forward. Not to mention, lots of hot Italian eye candy to distract me and make me fantasize about future rendezvous.
My advice: Say Fuck it and use the breakup as an excuse to go somewhere you've never gone, but have always wanted to. You can thank me later when you have the best experience of your life. Ride a camel, hike Machu Picchu, go wine tasting in Italy, learn yoga in Bali. Just go somewhere! Eat Pray Love that shit!
Have you ever traveled after a break up? How was it?
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Touching down in Tuscany
I'm here!!! Sono qui in Firenze! La mia bella citta!
 |
| Prepare for landing. Benvenuto a Firenze! |
I haven't posted in awhile because these past few weeks have been a whirlwind! From packing my entire life into a tiny storage unit, packing and repacking my luggage, saying my goodbyes, going away parties, lots of emotions and trying to center myself in preparation, I think it's safe to say I've been busy. Although the road hasn't been easy, I can honestly say that the moment I arrived to Florence, it was all worth it.
 |
| Looking over Florence from the Palazzo Vecchio Tower on a sunny summer day. |
The past week and a half has been very eventful. I've been able to explore some little towns just outside of Florence, try new foods and restaurants, see new things, be a tourist, and just soak it all in. I'm glad I've had some time to explore, but now it's time to get down to business.
I spoke with the US Embassy yesterday about my options for a work visa (more on that whole story later) and I had a bit of a reality check. Although I do need to jump on finding a job, I just have this strange sense of peace and calm that everything will work out. I have an interview in two weeks at a language school, and after that is when everyone gets back into town from holiday. In Italy, the month of August is like one big summer vacation. Most Italians, especially in Florence because of the heat, leave the city in search of cooler climates. Almost everything is closed for weeks out of the month, leaving only the tourist spots up and running, and not to mention overcrowded. Not only has it reached 101 degrees, there are also tourists everywhere, and the options of things to do are limited. Hot and crowded. Not a good combo. I wish I was at a beach somewhere in the south of France, too!
Nonetheless, I'm happy to be here and loving the fact that I can say I LIVE HERE! Ok, so I don't have an apartment of my own to call home, but my clothes are hanging in a closet, and thats basically the same thing, right?
Whenever I'm wandering through the streets and see the Duomo peaking through an alley, I feel the urge to stop and pinch myself. Is this real life?! I'm in love with this city and I am SO HAPPY I made the decision to come here. All the stress and bullshit was worth it. I know this feeling of a new place will wear off sometime, but right now I am drinking in every drop. I never want it to end.
Have any advice where I should eat or visit? Tell me in the comments!
Friday, July 10, 2015
Less Than 1 Month Until Moving to Europe
Countdown: 20 days
What I’ve been doing in the past
couple of weeks:
- Canceling magazine and other subscriptions
- Unsubscribing from emails I won’t need abroad (coupons, store sales, etc)
- Switching the utilities from my name to my “roommate’s” name
- Dental checkups and procedures
- Doctor appointments and follow ups
- Travel vaccinations (I advise starting these 2 months before you leave)
- Changing my address to my mom’s at the post office
- Spending time with friends and family
- Packing, packing and more packing
- Purging old clothes and unnecessary things to give away, sell or donate
- Haircut with an easy going style
- Putting things aside to put in my carry on or checked bag
- Reconsidering the things I set aside to take along
- Drinking all the wine on my wine rack (because you never waste wine)
 |
| This is the "after" picture and isn't even all my shit! |
My
apartment is filled with boxes stacked high and wide. It feels empty, and less
and less like my home. My special things no longer decorate the walls or fill
the shelves. In an attempt to fill the barrenness, S has hung a few comic books
around, but they don’t quite fill the void.
Since we
officially had The Talk last Sunday, it’s been a bit strange, but mostly
relieving. We both agreed we no longer feel a romantic connection and it is way
easier being best friends than it is being a partner. I expect too much, he’s
irresponsible. I need something else that he can’t give me anymore. Being with
me has become a chore to him. It’s just over. We still love each other and
living together has been mostly fine since, but there is still the feeling of
impending doom of my absence. We still behave like we are a couple sometimes,
but old habits are hard to break. After this week, I should be all packed up
and have decided to switch off staying with my Grandma and parents until I
leave. It’s all very emotional, but I know this is nothing compared to how I’ll
feel when I get to Florence and it all hits me.
On a
lighter note…
 |
| Take me out to the ballgame |
I cried the
day she left. I doubted my decision again, but I remembered what she told me. I
can always come back home if I don’t like it. This is something I’ve always
wanted and now I’m finally getting it. No matter how hard it will be, I’ll
still be there fulfilling my dream. It’s a win-win no matter what. This is why I need her.
I think I'll miss America...
I think I'll miss America...
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
I'm Actually Leaving: Moment of Weakness
To misquote Will Ferrell, "I love wine, wine-y, wine, wine!" That wasn't it? Oh well.
Countdown: 4 weeks and 5 days until departure.
So, I've been feeling my reality lately. This past weekend, I went to Bed, Bath & Beyond to spend a gift card I had. I figured I could buy a few things for traveling, so I went and took my time on a Saturday afternoon. The bed linens, the curtains, the kitchen appliances, I enjoyed it all. I love interior decorating. Making a new apartment feel like a home, customizing a space, choosing a new color scheme. I love making things cozy. Until it hit me. As I was wandering down each isle, I became more and more aware of my situation. I have no home. I can't decorate, I can't "nest", I can't get comfortable. This is my reality.
As I browsed the bedding section, I fought back tears. Stay strong. I can't take any of this stuff with me. Who really needs stuff anyway? I don't. Fuck stuff. We Americans think we need so much until we realize we don't. The problem is, we don't realize it until it's too late. But I have. I know that this is only more crap I won't need later. More things that will take up valuable space in my carry-on. Whatever I need, I can get in Italy.
Next thing I knew, I was bawling my eyes out sitting in my car alone in the parking lot. What am I doing? This is real. This is happening. I don't have a home, I won't have a home for a long time. I can't believe I'm doing this.
As I'm sitting there, totally aware of my normal behavior, and consciously avoiding it, I thought about my adult life and how many places I've lived, decorated and felt comfortable in. That made me cry harder. This was the first time it hit me. I already missed the people, the places, the feelings. I was scared to leave home.
Countdown: 4 weeks and 5 days until departure.
So, I've been feeling my reality lately. This past weekend, I went to Bed, Bath & Beyond to spend a gift card I had. I figured I could buy a few things for traveling, so I went and took my time on a Saturday afternoon. The bed linens, the curtains, the kitchen appliances, I enjoyed it all. I love interior decorating. Making a new apartment feel like a home, customizing a space, choosing a new color scheme. I love making things cozy. Until it hit me. As I was wandering down each isle, I became more and more aware of my situation. I have no home. I can't decorate, I can't "nest", I can't get comfortable. This is my reality.
As I browsed the bedding section, I fought back tears. Stay strong. I can't take any of this stuff with me. Who really needs stuff anyway? I don't. Fuck stuff. We Americans think we need so much until we realize we don't. The problem is, we don't realize it until it's too late. But I have. I know that this is only more crap I won't need later. More things that will take up valuable space in my carry-on. Whatever I need, I can get in Italy.
Next thing I knew, I was bawling my eyes out sitting in my car alone in the parking lot. What am I doing? This is real. This is happening. I don't have a home, I won't have a home for a long time. I can't believe I'm doing this.
As I'm sitting there, totally aware of my normal behavior, and consciously avoiding it, I thought about my adult life and how many places I've lived, decorated and felt comfortable in. That made me cry harder. This was the first time it hit me. I already missed the people, the places, the feelings. I was scared to leave home.
Friday, June 19, 2015
10 Things I Will and Will Not Miss About Los Angeles
With every day that goes by, I am mentally preparing to live in an entirely different world. Along with the preparation comes a running list in my head of things I'll miss...like when I'm walking my dog on a warm summer evening and I stop to take in the moment and let the sunset kiss my face. Shit like that.
So, let's get to it.
Things I will miss....
1. American Breakfast.
I love eggs. That's a weird statement, but it's true. Omelets, scrambles, over easy eggs with french toast. I love it all. I enjoy having a large breakfast to start my day, and what's even better is having all the options we do. Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. Ok, I'm seriously sad now.
2. LA weather.
Do I really need to explain this one? Every single day is beautiful here. Even the gloomy days are nice. They're refreshing and welcome. I mean, we have to take advantage of the handful of gray days we get a year...when else would the twig girls get to enjoy their iced pumpkin spiced lattes and take selfies when they're "deep in thought"?
3. The mix of cultures.
LA is a huge cultural melting pot, and I love the fact that I could just hop over to Little Tokyo, Korea Town, Little Armenia, or Olvera Street when I need some spice in my life. Speaking of all those places....
4. Lots of food options!
Not only is LA known as the Foodie Capitol of America (ok, maybe I made that up) because of all the amazing chefs who come here to try something new, but the diversity in cultural food options is amazing. Growing up in Southern California, you learn very quickly what good Mexican food looks and tastes like. I love it, and I love the fact that on any given day of the week, I can get authentic, delicious Mexican food to satisfy my craving. Then, another day, I can get amazing Japanese, Italian, or Mediterranean food. I think I might die in Europe....I need options!! I'm spoiled.
5. Following your dream
No, it's not a myth; the streets of Hollywood are literally paved with gold...okay, it's actually glitter, but it gets the point across. I love that people from all over the country come here in search of fulfilling their dreams and that anything is possible here. It truly is amazing and you can always spot the fresh new faces full of hope before regret, doubt, depression, and desperation take hold. Hey, the restaurant businesses in LA need to stay afloat somehow, right?
With all that being said, let me tell you things I will NOT miss...
1. Plastic bodies and fish faces.
Fake boobs, swollen lips, bad botox, and everything in between. Everyone is trying to look like they're 26 and let me tell you, it's sad. Not hot, not attractive, not sexy-- sad! You really get to see the insecurities of a person. It's everywhere. I will not miss that.
2. Shallow people
"What do you do?"
"I'm an actress!"
"....oh."
Not only is everyone you meet anywhere trying to be an actress, singer, model, or all three, but you overhear their shallow, stupid conversations in public all the time! You really can't escape it. Scratch what I said earlier about loving the fact that everyone moves here to follow their dreams. It's annoying! It gets to the point where you assume everyone you meet is in the industry ("The Industry" meaning film, obviously), and the place you're eating dinner has signed headshots of people you've never even heard of covering it's walls when you realize your server's face is among them. I can't even explain to you how annoying it is, as a local who grew up here, to be constantly bombarded by starry eyed actors/models/singers who "just wanna make it". Ugh, give it a rest! You came to the most concentrated pool of your own competition in the world, what makes you think you're any different than anyone else?! I. Can't. Stand it! Also, people who have ridiculously amazing bodies. You look great, but don't you have anything else you're working on? People go hiking in full hair and make up just in case. It's truly ludicrous. Rant over.
What was I talking about? Oh, right...
3. TRAFFIC
This is a sensitive topic for me. I loath it with every fiber of my being. I am so excited not to have a car in Italy.
4. WASPs
White Anglo Saxon Protestants. Or, for the lay person, rich, entitled middle-aged white people. I grew up as a minority in the ghetto, so I may be a little biased here, but I notice it all the time! Old rich white men in their sports cars cutting people off driving (and their fake, botoxed wives in the passenger seats) anger the crap out of me. And, the worst part is, they run rampant in LA. I will not miss their mentality that money fixes everything and status is the kind of car you drive. We all know your wife is cheating on you and you cry yourself to sleep at night. Can money fix that, asshole?! Also, they treat my dog like he's a monster.
5. Keeping up with the Joneses (or, Kardashians).....god, I can't stand them....
All the celebrities who live here set the precedent. Everybody who's a nobody wants to be like them. People wear masks here everyday and make themselves sound like so much more than they are. It's fake. So, if you haven't been following, their insides AND their outsides are fake. I am so looking forward to get out a place where fashion is appreciated, but the passion and history and experience is important.
So, there it is, folks. What I love and hate about living in LA. I can't wait to move to Italy!
Have any additions or questions? Leave a comment!
So, let's get to it.
Things I will miss....
1. American Breakfast.
I love eggs. That's a weird statement, but it's true. Omelets, scrambles, over easy eggs with french toast. I love it all. I enjoy having a large breakfast to start my day, and what's even better is having all the options we do. Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. Ok, I'm seriously sad now.
2. LA weather.
Do I really need to explain this one? Every single day is beautiful here. Even the gloomy days are nice. They're refreshing and welcome. I mean, we have to take advantage of the handful of gray days we get a year...when else would the twig girls get to enjoy their iced pumpkin spiced lattes and take selfies when they're "deep in thought"?
3. The mix of cultures.
LA is a huge cultural melting pot, and I love the fact that I could just hop over to Little Tokyo, Korea Town, Little Armenia, or Olvera Street when I need some spice in my life. Speaking of all those places....
4. Lots of food options!
Not only is LA known as the Foodie Capitol of America (ok, maybe I made that up) because of all the amazing chefs who come here to try something new, but the diversity in cultural food options is amazing. Growing up in Southern California, you learn very quickly what good Mexican food looks and tastes like. I love it, and I love the fact that on any given day of the week, I can get authentic, delicious Mexican food to satisfy my craving. Then, another day, I can get amazing Japanese, Italian, or Mediterranean food. I think I might die in Europe....I need options!! I'm spoiled.
 |
| The more disgusting it looks, the better it tastes! |
5. Following your dream
No, it's not a myth; the streets of Hollywood are literally paved with gold...okay, it's actually glitter, but it gets the point across. I love that people from all over the country come here in search of fulfilling their dreams and that anything is possible here. It truly is amazing and you can always spot the fresh new faces full of hope before regret, doubt, depression, and desperation take hold. Hey, the restaurant businesses in LA need to stay afloat somehow, right?
With all that being said, let me tell you things I will NOT miss...
1. Plastic bodies and fish faces.
Fake boobs, swollen lips, bad botox, and everything in between. Everyone is trying to look like they're 26 and let me tell you, it's sad. Not hot, not attractive, not sexy-- sad! You really get to see the insecurities of a person. It's everywhere. I will not miss that.
2. Shallow people
"What do you do?"
"I'm an actress!"
"....oh."
Not only is everyone you meet anywhere trying to be an actress, singer, model, or all three, but you overhear their shallow, stupid conversations in public all the time! You really can't escape it. Scratch what I said earlier about loving the fact that everyone moves here to follow their dreams. It's annoying! It gets to the point where you assume everyone you meet is in the industry ("The Industry" meaning film, obviously), and the place you're eating dinner has signed headshots of people you've never even heard of covering it's walls when you realize your server's face is among them. I can't even explain to you how annoying it is, as a local who grew up here, to be constantly bombarded by starry eyed actors/models/singers who "just wanna make it". Ugh, give it a rest! You came to the most concentrated pool of your own competition in the world, what makes you think you're any different than anyone else?! I. Can't. Stand it! Also, people who have ridiculously amazing bodies. You look great, but don't you have anything else you're working on? People go hiking in full hair and make up just in case. It's truly ludicrous. Rant over.
What was I talking about? Oh, right...
3. TRAFFIC
This is a sensitive topic for me. I loath it with every fiber of my being. I am so excited not to have a car in Italy.
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| This is real. I know this exact spot. |
4. WASPs
White Anglo Saxon Protestants. Or, for the lay person, rich, entitled middle-aged white people. I grew up as a minority in the ghetto, so I may be a little biased here, but I notice it all the time! Old rich white men in their sports cars cutting people off driving (and their fake, botoxed wives in the passenger seats) anger the crap out of me. And, the worst part is, they run rampant in LA. I will not miss their mentality that money fixes everything and status is the kind of car you drive. We all know your wife is cheating on you and you cry yourself to sleep at night. Can money fix that, asshole?! Also, they treat my dog like he's a monster.
5. Keeping up with the Joneses (or, Kardashians).....god, I can't stand them....
All the celebrities who live here set the precedent. Everybody who's a nobody wants to be like them. People wear masks here everyday and make themselves sound like so much more than they are. It's fake. So, if you haven't been following, their insides AND their outsides are fake. I am so looking forward to get out a place where fashion is appreciated, but the passion and history and experience is important.
So, there it is, folks. What I love and hate about living in LA. I can't wait to move to Italy!
Have any additions or questions? Leave a comment!
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Breaking Up to Travel
Ah, the familiar phrase I've Googled many, many times.
If you're thinking about it, you're already on your way. I'm speaking from experience. In the 3 major relationships in my adult life, I can honestly say that my wanderlust was a major factor in our break ups. Italy is seriously my mistress....er, mister?
Exhibit A: College Sweetheart, who we will call "J".
J was every girl's dream. 6’4” collegiate athlete, gentleman, scholar, and my god we were hot between the sheets. Seriously, best sex of my life, for THREE straight years! He was an aquarius and we worked. However, he wanted the typical American dream: white picket fence, beautiful blonde wife with a heart of gold (that could have been me), anglo babies, and to retire on our pensions where we would travel once a year to an English speaking country. Snore. Clearly, that wasn't my dream. It wasn't until later I realized this and our problems arose. After getting our own apartment that year, his getting accepted into a masters program, having our 3 year anniversary, and celebrating Christmas with each others' families, all of a sudden I felt panicked. A week later, I broke it off. It was the biggest heart break I had ever experienced, but what was even harder was that I did it to myself. I had to live with my decision. From then on, I knew I needed to travel. We had fought about Italy, mostly, in the last stretch of our relationship and every day I felt more and more sure of my heart's wants. I needed to go. He didn't understand and that's where we divided. A month after we broke up, he was already dating another girl. The day I came to say goodbye since I was moving back to California, I told him that I knew he was going to marry the new girl and I told him I was going to crash his wedding. He ended up getting married to that same girl 4 years later. Their wedding was last month and I just found out last week. FML…hence the “that could have been me”. The rest is history, I guess. Nothing compares to your first love. You’re vulnerable, open to new things, and want it so badly to work out. You imagine getting married and having babies, and what it would be like to live out your happily ever after. To this day, nothing has come close to that relationship in all the ways that made us so great. I know he’s happy now, and I’m happy for him. As much as it hurt, I know I made the right decision and am so happy I did.
Exhibit B: The Fun One, who we will call "A".
A was the next serious relationship I had after moving back to California, post J. It had been about a year since the break up and I was ready to try love again. I knew I didn't want anything too serious, and A seemed like the perfect choice. He was fun, social, outgoing, and spontaneous. I loved it all. I didn't want anything serious; serious meaning "ready to get married, like yesterday", which I had experienced when I was casually dating around before I met him. Yeesh. A seemed like the perfect guy for where I was in life. He was actually the one who had helped me get to Italy in the first place, and for that, I am eternally grateful. They say some people come into your life for a reason, and I truly believe A was in mine to help me get to that place. We had a ton of fun, and went out almost every weekend with our amazing group of friends. When I came back from my 2 week trip to Italy, he realized that he "didn't want to be without me" and asked me to move in. I was extremely hesitant, but sometimes you gotta take chances in life. So I did. As the relationship went on, I realized it just wasn’t right. Maybe I outgrew our dynamic, or just felt that I knew there was something else out there for me, but I knew in my heart that it was time to go. He's a sweet guy and I still think positive things about him, but he wasn’t for me. In the midst of everything between my first trip to Italy and our breakup about a year later, I had already planned a second trip to Italy and was going to be an Au Pair in Florence that summer. After our relationship ended, I swore to myself that I was going to keep my head down and focus on my trip that was coming up in 4 months....well, that didn't go as planned….
Exhibit C: S, The Creative One.
What a roller coaster this relationship has been. I met S only shortly after A and I had broken up and, I'll admit, I was in no place to start anything new. But, when has that ever stopped me?! Apparently, I'm a glutton for disaster. Textbook self-sabotager. S and I started seeing each other without realizing what we were getting into. He was new to LA, with a hopeful acting career and I was a poor dreamer living on my friend's couch until my trip, working at a coffee shop. He had this intelligent, artsy, sarcastic, hot nerd thing about him that I couldn’t resist. We hit it off right away and kind of stumbled into something without meaning to, and things got real serious real quick. Too much pressure too soon was a recipe for disaster. My second Italy trip was growing nearer and nearer every day and things were not getting any easier. In fact, they were really rough in the beginning. He had about 100 pounds of emotional baggage from his last relationship, and I was caught between looking forward and walking backward. I told myself I didn't want a relationship during my travels, but again, things happen. My second trip didn’t last as long as planned, but when I came back, shit got real. Next thing you know, we were 10 steps ahead of where a normal relationship should have been, but as we discovered, we’re not normal people. There was no time to really think about it, so we ended up signing a lease and moving into our very own apartment. Crazy. Through A LOT of ups and downs, we grew closer, understood each other better from our experiences, and learned a lot from each other. Things were going well after a year and half, and somehow we ended up rescuing our dog. I love my puppy child, don’t get me wrong, I just think hind sight is 20/20 and we really should have waited like we agreed. 2 months after getting a dog, I graduated with my bachelors degree and the travel bug bit again. Italy. This is about when I decided that I wanted to travel before it’s too late and right now seemed like my window of opportunity. S and I talked about it since he knows how important traveling is to me and we came to the agreement, through a hypothetical scenario, that he would support me if I wanted to teach English abroad. The following month, I enrolled in my TEFL course and here we are.
As you can see, Italy has been a major part of my break ups my entire adult life (among other things). I don't really believe in coincidence, which is why I think it is a serious calling. The feeling has been unshakable each time, like my soul is being called home. Cheesy, I know, but it’s true.
If you can relate, I’m telling you it’s worth it. The way I see it is, if you were meant to be with the person you’re with, then it will happen when and how it’s supposed to. If you’re thinking about leaving everything and everyone to gallivant the globe, then your mind is already made up. You wouldn’t be having those thoughts if it wasn’t what your heart truly wanted. It really does know what you want, and if I hadn’t followed mine when it told me to break up with J, I would probably be married and starting a life right now that I didn’t necessarily want. Sure, I’d be happy, but deep down inside I’d know this isn’t what I want. I told myself, after leaving J, that I did the right thing because I know that as the years went on, I would end up resenting him because I didn’t do what I wanted in my life. We would end up in an unhappy marriage and probably get a divorce all because I missed the signs from the universe and didn’t listen to my heart to go down the path I was meant to. Justify it however you want, but I can tell you with confidence that every hard decision I’ve made thus far in life has lead me here, and I couldn’t be happier.
When I planned my second trip to Italy, I was debating my relationship with A, and found this amazing blog post that helped me through a lot. Reading it now is even more eye opening. Check out Bacon is Magic's post about her experience and how she got through it here --> http://www.baconismagic.ca/chile/walked-away-from-love/ I really loved the way she opened up and told her story.
Did you ever break up to travel, or try to continue your relationship long distance? How did it end up? Have any advice? Leave a comment and tell your story.
Friday, May 22, 2015
Travel Plans: What to Do When Plan "A" Doesn't Work
So, Plan “A” didn’t work out. What
now? Freak out? Cancel everything? Seek refuge from your bed and cry into your
pillow until you fall asleep? Ok, that may be my way of dealing with things, but
I can’t be the only one, right?
Recently, while casually looking at my
calendar, I suddenly realized that I only have about 8 more weeks until I
leave….that’s only 2 months! Panic mode ensued and the following couple of days
were predetermined to be ruined. Now, normally, I’m a strange mix between fun, spunky Pinkie Pie and inappropriate, kickass Pam Poovy, but during panic mode, I was like, totally a Droopy Dog and Panicky
Smurf combo. Not fun.
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| This is how I feel when people say something negative about what I'm doing. |
I had an emotional breakdown and started worrying about all the things that could go wrong, how ill prepared I was, and of course, my sad little savings account which I check everyday just in case any magical money appears over night. Still hoping.
At this point, getting a third job
would help a ton, but I’m struggling with the type of job I could get since
scheduling is a problem with my other necessary jobs. I’ve even looked into
temp agencies, which are still in the works. Another issue is the amount of
time I would keep the job. I would need to find something in the service
industry for 1) the tips and 2) the high turnover rate so I won’t feel bad when
I leave. I’m not entirely selfish!
My initial Plan “A” was great back in
February when I applied to be a substitute teacher and had full time
availability. Unfortunately, the company had other plans and took forever with
my hiring paperwork, costing me over a month of time without working yet.
Looking back, I probably should have looked for something else right away to
fill the unknown amount of time before I would start teaching, but hindsight is
always 20/20.
Now, at my 2 month mark (have I
mentioned I only have 2 months left?), I’m doing the math and it’s not looking
good. To overcome my Panic Smurf freak out, I began thinking of my options for
jobs and other things. After searching all over Indeed for American companies
with offices in Italy, remote jobs for American companies, and thinking of
other ways to make money working from my laptop abroad, I realized as I was
doing all of this, I was sitting in the one place I spend most of my time. The
coffee shop. Not only do I know most of the employees, and how things are done,
the manager also knows me and my boyfriend by name and starts our drinks the
minute we walk in. In other words, we’re regulars. Why did I never see this
before? I spend my entire morning there anyway, so why not get paid for it? They
started hiring recently and haven’t had much luck with the people they’ve been
training. LA is full of unreliable people, actors especially. Ugh, actors. So,
I had a nice little conversation with the manager, told her that I can work for 2 months, and she's going to put in a good word for me with the owners. Extra income and free coffee for me, and a competent, reliable
employee for a couple months for them. Winning!
Being adaptable is an important
characteristic for a traveler to have. If Plan “A” doesn’t work out, you need
to be able to think quickly, and stick and move. I’ll be honest, forethought
isn’t a strong point of mine, especially if I have painstakingly strong faith
in my existing plan, so there is always a disconnect between where I am and
where I see myself. Obviously, this isn’t something I’m proud of, but at least
I’m honest with myself. I am, however, resourceful and when I take the time to
look around, I can come up with new ideas pretty quickly. If you’re stuck in a
bind, try to think outside the box. Super cliche, I know, but sometimes the answer is right in front of
you, or in my case, you’re so close to it (maybe even inside of it), that you
don’t see it. In addition to this idea, I also plan on heading down to the main street of my neighborhood and pass out my resume to every
bar and restaurant like a frat party flyer being distributed in the dorms! BOOM! That, my friend, is called hustling.
Now, for my new outlook and daily mantra, "I am so happy I have $5,000 in my savings account before August!" Put it out into the universe and let it happen!
Now, for my new outlook and daily mantra, "I am so happy I have $5,000 in my savings account before August!" Put it out into the universe and let it happen!
Also check
out my post 8 Ways to Save For Your Next Adventure for more ideas!
What do you do if Plan "A" doesn't work out? Tell us in the comments below.
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