"Boyhood" Movie Review

Back in April, I had the good fortune to watch Richard Linklater's "Boyhood" at the Phoenix Film Festival.

Tip: If you want to watch an indie film before it's released, check out the film festivals near you. Great films are waiting to be discovered at film festivals.

I love Linklater. He wrote and directed "Before Sunrise" and directed its two sequels. That trilogy of films that shows love and its evolution over the years. God, those films are good.

Sidenote: Jesse and Celine forever!

Anyway, "Boyhood" was filmed over thirteen years. The same four main actors returned every year for a few days to shoot scenes for the film, which is about a boy growing up.

If you want to stop there, go ahead and miss a great film. Why is it great? Well, first, putting together the challenge of filming over thirteen years and having the patience to say, "It's not done yet" helps. The easy route would've been for Linklater to cast different boys at different stages of their life and film the whole thing in a few months. But then, you'd miss the point. You'd miss Ellar Coltrane go through growing up, his dramatic voice change, and, my personal favorite, his many hairstyles. There are also the small bits of popular culture that we'll all remember. Because the film was shot during these actual moments in time, they feel more authentic than re-created for the screen.

The beauty of "Boyhood" is that it's a simple story, even though the making of it wasn't. We meet Mason Junior at the age of about 5, living with his mother and his pain-in-the-ass older sister, Sam (played by Linklater's daughter). As the parents, Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke are fantastic. They go through as much change as Mason does throughout the film. Despite them being already divorced at the beginning, each of them spends a good amount of time with Mason. The only person I wish we'd seen more of is Sam. She appears in a lot of the scenes, but her character doesn't feel fully fleshed-out as well as Mason's and the parents' do. But, then again, it's called "Boyhood" not "Girlhood."

I VOLUNTEER TO MAKE "GIRLHOOD."

Arquette is probably given the hardest role. A single mother who does her absolute best to provide and protect her children while also trying to survive in this harsh world. She is slowly betrayed and abandoned year after year. But she gets back up and continues to be optimistic. I'd love to see a supporting actress nod for Arquette. Her performance is filled with so much weight I felt like I wanted to help her carry something. Watch her tell her children they're moving and them arguing against it. It's exhausting and she shows us. Her final scene is heartbreaking.
Mason Sr.,  on the other hand, almost comes out as the hero in the story. He's the cool dad with the cool car. He's funny, charming, a musician. He enjoys his boyish years and then grows into a respected man.
The years are slowly etched into their faces. Every new scene includes a new wrinkle and some grey hairs for both. Again, something you wouldn't be able to appreciate fully if the film had been done in a short period of time. Makeup does a good job, but it can't replace real life.

But the real story is Mason's. He grows up probably thinking, "These adults are really fucked up." By the time he reaches his adolescent years, he's mostly determined to not follow in anyone's footsteps. You know, like most teenagers. Because, isn't that how they see us? We give them advice so they won't make the same mistakes we did, and there they go ignoring us and making the same mistakes.

It's the circle of life.

Mason rarely talks. He observes people's behaviors. He listens to his father, who actually makes good points in his many speeches in the film. He listens to everyone talk, even though we know and Mason knows that it's all a bunch of bullshit. Or maybe it's not, but at the time it is. There are moments when Mason is pushed, literally and figuratively, and you think you know how he's going to react. Those are the moments when Linklater forces us to think about our own psyche and our own beliefs about boys.

When I left the theater, I tweeted that watching "Boyhood" was like "watching my little brother's life." It's true. We live in an unfortunate world where we see or hear on the news mostly the bad things that young men do. But there are millions of young men out there just trying to get through boyhood.

Oaxaca en mi Corazon

For someone who talks the big talk about traveling everywhere, I really haven't been to many places. Sure, I've driven through half of the states in the U.S. but really, I've only been to two countries: the U.S. and Mexico.

Ah to be able to visit Europe and see the great Roman Coliseum, the Eiffel Tower, and Big Ben. Or go to Asia and walk the Great Wall of China.

So far, these are just dreams I have. Because, frankly, I have very little money to travel, almost no time, and there is that little fear I have of flying. 

That hasn't stopped me from seeing some amazing places in the towns where I've set foot, and Oaxaca was no exception.

I went to Oaxaca for the 4th annual FilmFest as an officially selected screenwriter. Oh yeah, in case you missed it, or, as the kids say these days ICYMI, I'm a full-fledged screenwriter now. The baby that I've been carrying and slowly bringing up these past God-knows-how-many years is ready to see the world. So I submitted the script to competitions and film festivals and Oaxaca FilmFest was one of the first to pat me on the back and say, "You did a good job."

My initial plan was to take a week in Vallarta to relax, maybe grab a family member who wasn't too buys, and head to Oaxaca in week two. Lady Luck had other plans, however, and a month before my trip, I got a call from Clear Channel telling me I've won a weekend in Las Vegas.

I KNOW, RIGHT?!

I shit you not, I started to think that maybe God was sending me a sign that I shouldn't go to Oaxaca because Death was waiting for me. You see, I've inherited a bit of paranoia and it's a wonder I still leave my house every morning.

So now my plans were to drive to Vegas, enjoy two free days of concert-going and a free hotel room, drive back to Phoenix, pack, get on a bus and head South. I was to leave Phoenix late Sunday afternoon and get to Oaxaca early Tuesday afternoon.

Yeah, that did not happen. I want to interject here to say that the buses in Mexico are top-notch, luxury buses. This is no Greyhound. This is a plane on wheels. Totally comfy, with built-in WiFi, and televisions. I dare any airline to present me with a better seat at the same price.

The problem occurred once I was deep into Mexican territory. Puebla, to be exact. It was here, three hours from my destination, that the teachers' strike decided to close off the toll road. We were stopped, that means the driver actually sat with us and watched a movie, for three hours. Then we were detoured another three hours. After the smooth sailing I had experienced for almost two days, we have to climb up one of the highest mountains I've ever been on and face the aforementioned Death straight in the eyes. Holy fuckballs those are some scary curves at some insane heights. Our driver was frustrated, we were tired, hungry, and a little frightened. Luckily, we arrived in one piece.

NO ONE WANTS YOUR AMERICAN MONEY!

Jesus, I made a total mistake not exchanging money at the border. Because, guess what, no one would take my dollars. I think everyone in Mexico knew the U.S. government was about to shut down and just basically said, "Yeah, let's not get involved." A very wonderful woman agreed to exchange $20.00 for me and I could not have been more grateful to her. Because of her I could pay a taxi to get to my hotel and pay for my dinner that night. I learned from her something that would prove true in the next five days: The people of Oaxaca are incredibly kind and generous. All of them.

It was finally time, six hours after I was supposed to arrive, to relax. But wait, the festival was going on. I'd already missed three events and if I'd stayed in, I'd have missed half of the events. So I decided to get out there and start shaking hands.

From the moment my script was chosen as an official selection to the festival, I started getting help from the organizers. They were helpful, professional, and extremely nice. When I arrived at the hotel, there was a package waiting for me with a map, itinerary, and my badge. Everything was organized down to the last detail.

That night I walked over to a bar where the shorts were being featured and the mezcal was running free. Yes, it was literally free. You don't want free mezcal. It's dangerous.

I made some good friends that first night. But I learned two things: One, I'm getting old and can't stay up past midnight anymore; and two, mezcal doesn't hit you 'til later. Plus, I wanted to explore Oaxaca in the morning and you can't do that tired and with a hangover.

Anyone who knows me knows that Puerto Vallarta is, to me, the most beautiful place in the world. That's because it's my home and it'll always be that small port where we caught fireflies and baby iguanas; the place where we'd spend Sundays out on the beach with a roasted chicken for a picnic; the place where my mom's childhood memories mix in with mine. Vallarta is no longer that place, unfortunately. It remains a small town only in my memory, because investors have come in and demolished the foliage and built their condos along the beach and into the sky. It's a tragedy, really. But this is the price of progress, I guess.

Oaxaca is still feels untouched by this. Or maybe it's because there is too much history that the town has been engulfed in protection. This is, after all, the place where the Zapotecs built their pyramids and where Benito Juarez was born. Though I doubt money-making scum have ever cared to crack open a history book, I'm grateful they've been left out of here. A woman at the market told me that they've fought to keep supermarkets and large companies out of the downtown area. Imagine a WalMart next to a 300 year-old church?

With a good pair of shoes and some change in your pocket, you can see all of the historic part of Oaxaca in a few days. My favorite place, of course, was the market. Walk in through the front entrance and stacks and stacks of bread cloud your vision. The women offered me several samples and, at first, I thought it to be too dry. As you continue to walk you're met by men and women showing you their menus and proclaiming that their spot is the best to eat at. I didn't doubt it for a second. I wish I could've eaten at all of the locations.

I tried three diners on separate occasions and the food was well-served, delicious, and made of fresh ingredients. All of them served me either cafe de olla, which is coffee made in a pot, or hot, foamy chocolate and a side of that dry bread which is delicious once dunked.

Sidenote: my mouth is watering at this very moment at the thought of such goodness.

Even the seafood cocktail I had was over-the-top fresh and delicious, I say this with amazement because we were at a six-hour drive away from the ocean.

The side entrances to the market are, well, a sausage fest :-) There were meats of every cut out on display and ready to be cooked to your specifications. Sausages, chorizo, whole chickens, etc. All of them just there for the taking. Perhaps a normal person would ask, "What about bacteria? Are there any sanitation inspectors here?"

I have no idea. I do know that around lunch time there were people lined up at all of the meat market posts buying. So I think it was all okay.

I can't express enough how good the food was in Oaxaca. My luggage was about 10 pounds heavier from all of the chocolate and mole I lugged back with me.

The festival itself was wonderful. The day after I arrived I dressed in my brand-spanking new business suit and pitched my script. It was nerve-racking.

About an hour before I was to pitch, I was informed that the video could only be 3 minutes long. I had researched for hours, taken down several notes, and prepared a 7 minute pitch. Luckily, I was one of the last people to go so I managed to trim it down.

We were told that we could look at our video and re-shoot if we wanted. I imagine myself sweating profusely, shaking uncontrollably, and outright mumbling for 3 minutes. So I opted for not seeing it and sending it off to the powers that be.

My pitch was the only thing I "had to do" during the festival. So the rest of my days were spent watching movies, making new friends, drinking, and talking about movies.

I absolutely love film festivals. It's the place where you can get together with other people who love films and the art of films and you geek out for days talking your film geekery.

I met directors, producers, and many of my fellow writers. There's no way the film industry will ever die if we give all of these brilliant people a chance to make their movie.

Among the people I met is a writer-director who presented his first full-length film at the festival. We are currently discussing how to bring my script to the big screen.

Totally worth the trip.

My cousin arrived two days after I did and we immediately decided that we were going to live in Oaxaca and never return to the States.

Right up until it was time to go, of course.

Maybe we'll still do it someday.

I love the fact that I had some family with me during the trip. We walked, we talked, we ate, and we partied together. I even got to play tour guide at Monte Alban, because I had been there the day before. Also, I got to take pictures after not being able to the because of stupid camera issues!

The final night was in a packed movie theater. Throughout the week, the event never felt like a competition. We were encouraged to see each other's films and talk to one another as colleagues, not competitors. I did meet a couple of the judges during my pitch, but other than that day, they were just people enjoying the festival with us.

So, needless to say, I was pretty shocked when they called my name for an award :-o

Yes, my first film festival and I won the award for Best Original Idea. That was quite a big, tasty cherry on top of my sundae.

And...like a big fat loser, I went back to my room right away. One, because I was wearing heels that hurt my feet, and two, I had to get up early to catch my bus.

I woke up early my last day in Oaxaca and ate breakfast in the Zocalo's plaza. The streets were quiet and the sun was shining. That's how I like to remember Oaxaca, happy and peaceful.

Good Intentions, Bad Decisions

I wasn't going to get too involved in this but since I can't get it out of my head I think the topic calls for a blog.

For the past couple of weeks I've been seeing ads on television about a new show from Eva Longoria called "Devious Maids."

First reaction: That looks dumb.

I hadn't noticed at first that all of the maids were Latinas (probably because I wasn't paying that much attention). It took two or three commercials for me to sit up and take notice...and get a little angry.
Angry on several levels. As a Latina; as a writer trying to break the stereotypes of Latina(o) representation in the media; as a supporter of Eva Longoria; as a writer!

Closer to the premiere of the show I caught a couple of blog posts. The first was by Tanisha Ramirez in the Huffington Post, here. The second was by Alisa Valdes author of "The Dirty Girls Social Club" (read it here). Ms. Valdes is trying to raise $250,000 to turn her book into a movie because, according to her, she doesn't want the characters to undergo the "Hollywood treatment." To see what she means by that, watch this:

Eva Longoria went on to defend the show. Wait for it...I'm posting another link...here.
Needless to say, she defends the show with as much passion as Ramirez and Valdes used in criticizing it.

I don't blame Eva Longoria. Well, not completely. The show wasn't created by her. She is simply an executive producer, which basically means that she put her name behind the show probably so that the creator wouldn't get the backlash.

You're a real gentleman, Marc Cherry!

But I am seriously disappointed in her. How the meetings went, I don't know. What pretty words they told her to convince her that this was a good idea, I don't know that either. But I am pretty sure they sounded like the words she is throwing at us to convince us that what is happening is the right course of action. She is saying: let's not concentrate on the fact that they are maids, let's concentrate on the fact that there are FIVE Latinas carrying a primetime television show.

Perhaps years from now there will be a retrospective on Eva Longoria's career and they will say "she was a trailblazer, she put out the only television show with Latinas as the main protagonists." Years from now I'll still have a problem with it. I will continue to ask: Why did the maids have to be Latinas?

That's my main problem. Ms. Longoria believes that maids' stories are worth telling as much as the stories of doctors and lawyers. Fine, why do they have to be Latinas?
Because they wanted to give the opportunity to underrepresented actresses to appear on a primetime television show as the lead characters. Fine, why do they have to be maids?

You see the problem? Any way you argue the show it comes down to this: it is a stereotype that we are trying to break away from and with this show it has been reinforced. Eva Longoria, a prominent and well-respected Mexican-American, WITH POWER, chose to back THIS show. Let me just throw something else in the mix: she has her own production company. She could've gone back and said "listen, let's tweak this a little bit." This didn't have to happen.

But wait! You say. What if the show is a success? What if I'm judging it just on a few ads that I saw and Eva Longoria is actually a genius that saw a diamond in the rough. What if this is the beginning of a new era?

For you, dear reader, I bit the bullet and watched the pilot episode of "Devious Maids."

Beverly Hills. The place where heartless, rich, doped-up White people live (according to the show). And some guy named Alejandro. Alejandro is there so that we don't rant about the fact that all of the rich bosses are White. The show, much like Marc Cherry's "Desperate Housewives" (a genius, this guy), starts off with a mystery.

Oh no, wait, back up, it actually starts with this lady threatening the maid with...wait for it...DEPORTATION because the maid is sleeping with the rich, fat, asshole husband. Got it? Because in case you didn't know, all maids are not only Latinas, but also illegal aliens.

Eva Longoria: "Actually, we are trying to show that this is what people THINK of Latina maids. If you keep watching you'll see a character declare that she is, in fact, an American citizen. Did I mention two of our head writers are Latinas?" *pats self on back*

o_0

So the maid gets killed. In "Desperate Housewives" the show starts when one lady commits suicide and then tortures the audience with her voiceovers from the beyond. The font colors of the title are the same on both shows?

Marc Cherry deserves and Emmy!

Let's meet the other maids. I forgot their names. Please hold.

Marisol is the new maid on the block. She speaks English without an accent. Literally the boss-lady says "I've never met a maid without an accent."

Marisol is also the above-mentioned American citizen, AND she went to college (actually, what the boss says is, "You sound like you went to college"). Which means that she can't possibly be a real maid. Which *spoiler alert* she's not.

No one saw the issue with this? No. One?
My blood pressure is rising.

At first I thought Marisol was a cop investigating the murder. Now I think she works in the legal field...and she's investigating the murder. Which means that sometime in the future Evan Longoria will say, "I told you so."

And we will reply with, "You're still missing the point."

Zolla has a boss that uses a lot of drugs (Susan Lucci, who should also be upset about the typecasting). Her daughter Valentina is in love with the boss' son and she makes us all proud by throwing herself at him in every which way possible. I can already tell you where this is going both for Zolla and for her daughter.

Carmen works for Alejandro and she is an aspiring singer. I don't know what Alejandro does or is but all he is seen doing is working out and being protected by some lady. The only African-American on the show works for Alejandro and has the hots for Carmen.

Ten points if you can guess where that storyline is going?

And poor Rosie has to work taking care of her boss' little boy, while her own little boy is in Mexico and can't come over. There so much irony in this story it would make Alanis Morissette's head explode. They also have an overly dramatic telephone call in the first episode, which did not melt my cold heart but rather made me roll my tired eyes.

Now that I think about it, these stories are stereotypical regardless of the maids' race. Which begs the question...say it with me, I know you can...WHY DO THEY HAVE TO BE LATINAS?

Did I mention the soundtrack? Let me just say that I don't know what goes on in your guys' head, but I'm pretty sure flamenco guitars and maracas don't play ever time I walk into a room. I like to hum the Imperial March sometimes when I walk :-D

PS - I know the pilot is a setup to the stories, but we only got to see one of the maids go home. Which means that those "stories to tell" are probably going to end up being workplace gossip. Curious, I wonder if they could've done the same setup in an office? hmmmm...

PPS - I just read a great article in EW magazine on Michael B. Jordan. He's a fantastic actor who starred in "Friday Night Lights" and "Chronicle." Mr. Jordan, an African-American, is on the shortlist to play Johnny Storm in the new "Fantastic Four" movie.

THAT is progress. 

Three Decades

After today, I will have completed three decades of life on this tiny planet. A small blip in Earth's history, to be sure. What's 30 years compared to billions? Hell, what's 30 years compared to people who have lived twice that long? Three times?

Perhaps nothing. But for the person who's lived it, it means something considerable. It means, first of all, that I've managed to stay in one piece, mentally and physically.

Sidenote: In my family we believe that we are meant to live only the time God has granted us. So I just have to stay sane.

It also means that my accomplishments mean something. I haven't discovered a cure for the C word, or any other disease; I'm not a great athlete; in fact I have no above-average talent to speak of; but our lives are not without meaning.

From what I can gather, I was an "oops" baby. It's okay, if we took a survey, most of us are "oops" babies. At least I wasn't a "holy shit, what are we going to do?" baby. My parents were young but with solid heads on their shoulders. I have to say, it honestly takes a lot of courage to accept that your life is about to change forever and face it head on. I mean, if I found out I was pregnant tomorrow (nine years older than my mom was when I came along) I wouldn't necessarily shit my pants...but I'd probably shart a little.

Did I mention I was the ugliest baby born that year? Yeah, they still kept me. Good people my parents. That, or the nurses caught them sneaking out of the hospital and stopped them.

I grew up privileged. Not rich, privileged. I was spoiled rotten by my large extended family. It helps when you're born at the beginning of your generation. I've lived in large houses. I've seen Christmas trees that are so big they bend at the ceiling. We used to have massive Easter egg hunts on my aunt's property. I used to point at something and it somehow found its way into my hands (not like magic, but, yes, just like magic). We'd eat out all the time, good restaurants too.
Humbleness is a necessary lesson, don't you think?

We moved to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico when I was in third grade. Imagine going from a being a stellar public school student, to being the new kid in a Catholic school who can't read or write the language.

Sidenote numero 2: My parents spoke only Spanish to us in our home. So, although Spanish was my first language, English was a very close second thanks to my cousins, school, and television (Sesame Street).

I struggled, as anyone would. But I pulled through.

After that we moved almost every year. WAIT, before you start playing the tiny violin I want you to know that I loved it. You see, I never had friends. So moving every year was a welcome relief :-)

I've lived in Mexico, California, Illinois, Florida, North Carolina, and now Arizona. I've driven across this country several times.

Because I was looking for my real mom ;-(

hahahaha no I wasn't. 9 out of 10 times my mom was with me. I get my gypsy nature from her. I got my nose from my dad.

Did I skip the part where I graduated with honors in high school and college? Oh yes, humbleness.

But, for the record, I did ;-)

College was the best time of my life. I got to live in school! I worked in the library! I was vice-president of the business club!

**crickets chirping**

Okay, okay, I got very very drunk once and threw up in front of everybody.
"Once?!"

Yes, once. Get over it. I didn't rack up thousands of dollars in student loan debt so I could drink away four years of my life. I'll have nothing to look forward to when I have my mid-life crisis.

Today I work in a windowless office and I'm a moderate drinker. I own my own house (once I pay it off) and I have good credit. I'm back in college to take classes for the career that I truly want, not the one that just makes sense.

I do believe that at 30 I have accomplished the American Dream.

All kidding aside, I'm proud of everything I've experienced. Traveling, learning, meeting new people, getting stuck in small towns, touring big cities, laughing, crying, loving, and losing.

I have lived a fantastic 30 years so far. The kind of life that makes me feel like I got hit with a lucky stick, but that I also know took a lot of patience and hard work.

Hear's to 30 more years, God willing.

No sir, I Like Big Bird

There was a statement in last night's debate made by Mr. Romney that made everyone sit up and pay attention.

"...I like Big Bird,.."- Mitt Romney

Twitter went crazy. In a matter of minutes, fake accounts were created in the name of Big Bird.
But there were probably a few people who weren't chuckling. Mainly the people at PBS who heard the presidential candidate say that, despite his fondness of the big yellow bird, he was going to cut the network's government subsidy.

Hmmm...that's kind of like when your boss calls you in on a Friday afternoon and says, "I like you John, you're a great guy. This is nothing personal, but we're making cuts and you're out. Sorry bud."

It's the nature of business, to lower spending and increase profits. That's how Mr. Romney sees the government, as a business; and he sees PBS as an expenditure that needs to be wiped out from the books. As a person that needs to be "let go."

Goodbye Big Bird, go somewhere else with your numbers and letters. Take your friends with you. Except for the Count, he'll be in charge of the Accounting department.

The Public Broadcasting System is not a person in a corporation using up resources. The Public Broadcasting System is a resource. It is as vital to this country's education as a computer is to an office.

I grew up watching Sesame Street as much as the next kid. And the ones before me. And I would hope the ones after me. I grew up in a Spanish-speaking home. Not because my parents didn't know English, but because they had a a clear idea of how their children would learn two languages: Spanish in the home, English in school. It worked. But when people ask me, as curious people are keen to ask, how I learned to speak English, I simply answer: Sesame Street. Because it is as true as the longer explanation. You see, after school my babysitter would take me home and sit me in front of the television with Sesame Street. School didn't end. I continued to learn.

We live in an unfortunate time where our education system is broken. Children are moved up in grades that they are not prepared for. They fall through cracks in the system. We are behind other countries in reading and math. Interesting, aren't those the primary things Big Bird and his neighbors teach? What about empathy? Common sense?

A television show is not a substitute for parents or teachers. No, but it can be an add-on to the education that a person is already getting, and I don't believe in cutting funds to education. Not for a child and for adults either. We don't stop learning because someone gave us a piece of paper and said "go forth and earn some money."

That money pays for bills. Bills that are necessary to our livelihood, and, frankly, cable television is not a necessary expenditure in my household. Do I suffer? No. You tell me you have the Travel Channel, well I have PBS and I travel through all of Europe. You say you learn new recipes all the time on the Food Network. Well I do too, on PBS we have America's Test Kitchen and I made the best fried chicken you've ever tasted the other day. Oh, you just learned something fascinating on the History Channel? Yeah, I watch History Detectives. There's also Nova, Nature, old episodes of Rob Ross painting "happy trees," and Half the Sky which puts focus on women around the world and the work that still needs to be done to create a true equality between the sexes.

I am a life-long student of PBS, and I will not be forced to stop attending their school because someone deemed their funding unnecessary. You will tell me, perhaps, that I should go somewhere else to continue my education, and pay for it. You will tell me that the government is not responsible for me. I can assure you that I know. I paid for my education and I pay my taxes. I am not asking for free television. I am stating what I want. Because Mr. Romney and Mr. Obama are applying for a job, and I am a board member, as well as every voting citizen in this country. As a board member I say this: I will not vote against my education and our children's education.

I will not vote against the Public Broadcasting System.

There are Plenty of Fish in the Internet

I just wish I could start a relationship about twelve years in, when you really don't have to try anymore, and you can just sit around together and goof on TV shows, and then go to bed without anybody trying any funny business.
-Liz Lemon

I do this for you, my faithful readers ;-)
How many dating websites are there? Umm.. probably thousands. All of them proclaiming that they can do the one thing you are incapable of doing yourself: finding a mate.
Solely for research purposes, I tried out four websites: Match.com, Plentyoffish, eHarmony, and OKCupid.
I just want to point out that it is a pain in the ass filling out the information over and over again. It comes to the point where you say "Let me search already! I don't want to talk about myself anymore."

PS - Finding a job is not all that different than finding a match online. There are thousands of sites and in each of them you have to fill in the same information over and over and over again.

Hmmm... they should put them together. Find a date and a job! Or one of the two.

First off is Match.com one of the first dating websites to appear on the Internets. It proclaims to be "The Leading Online Dating Site." O-kay. That's probably why it costs a lot of money. Right off the bat I thought this site was a pain. It tricks you.
And I hate to be tricked.
You see, it lets you do everything for free. You create a profile, you search for people, you can send "winks," BUT when you receive something it doesn't even tell you who it's from. So you're torn. Do I pay money just to find out what that unread message says? What if it's my soulmate telling me he's found me? What if it's the same guy winking at me that I winked at?
What if it's just a random person you share no interest in? And the message isn't worth reading?
It goes on and on. Pretty much, if you don't have the cash don't even bother because you won't be able to communicate.

Plentyoffish is scary and full of scary people. I don't even like their website. It looks like the trashy bar on the corner Mugged Ave. and Death Dr. Just stay away from this site. I feel dirty just having signed up for it.
The only plus side is that it's completely free. You get what you pay for. I'm just saying.

Next up is eHarmony which is the most time-consuming of all the websites. It is the "#1 Most Trusted Site." I've been told that eHarmony is a website aimed at the general public but really run by some right-wing, ultra conservative group. I have no idea. I do remember seeing some ads a couple of years ago with people who weren't allowed to sign up for the site.
ANYWAY. The site claims that you will find your perfect match because they have this formula and they only match you with people who fit you best based on this formula.
Write that down, because it's going to be important, and hilarious, later.
Here is the good thing about eHarmony, they do free weekends every few months. So if you're signed up and you like your match then you have the option at some point to communicate. For free. I knew a girl that did this and she got a free dinner out of it.
That is, of course, if you get any matches. Which, after about two hours of answering all of their multiple choice questions (at one point I just clicked on the middle choice), and waiting impatiently for the thingy to search, it turns out I have...
ZERO MATCHES.
Remember the time Ted Mosby went to that matchmaker and she found only four women for him and he felt all bad? Yeah, this was worse.
So the site gives me this little "hint" which basically says "stop being so picky." Okay, so I changed my parameters. I can date men that aren't as tall as I am. Sure.
ZERO MATCHES.
So, I go in and change stuff again. I can convince a smoker to stop smoking.
ZERO MATCHES.
Hmmm... I can date someone that lives in Timbuktu.
STILL NO MATCHES.

eHarmony boasts that it has 20 million registered users.

And you guys don't think I'm cursed. I'm laughing on the inside.

I want to mention that the only flaw I see in eHarmony's site is that you can't search on your own. You plug in your parameters and the site only gives you the matches that are of a high percentage with your answers. So, in theory, they think that they're better at knowing what you want than you are.

On to the next and my favorite of the four: OKCupid. I read about this site last year when I was very sick and this guy wrote a Glamour article about dating. Or it was about something, but the point is he ended up dating. Only thing I got out of the article was OKCupid.
So I went on the site. First of all, it's completely free. I love it already.When you have to pay to find a person to have a conversation with it just seems...what's the word I'm looking for...dirty. Part of the fun thing about this site is that the tools/help/menu is full of sarcasm. Like when I rate a person's profile too low it says "You're not picky." hee hee hee
Much like eHarmony, OKCupid uses a formula to find you matches. Unlike eHarmony, these questions are actually fun to answer. They're questions about ethics, logic, religion, sex, and personal beliefs. Some are made by the website designers and some by users.

What's that you say, you want an example? Okay, a simple one is, "Do you find glasses on the opposite sex attractive?" Yes, No, No Preference. Then you can put down what the answer you prefer your match to have. Yes, No, No Preference. But another question might be, "How willing are you to try new things in the bedroom?" You can also add comments if you feel the need to explain yourself or to be really funny.

Just a note: You don't have to answer the questions. Or you can choose to skip the ones you prefer not to answer.

The site then sends you "quiver matches" based on the criteria you're looking for in a mate and your answers. But the best part is that you can do your own search on the side and go through people's profiles. Why not? Sometimes the formula won't work. Why? Because it's a series of questions that only have two or three options. The world isn't black and white people. You cannot put together a World Series team with pure science.

Er...You guys have seen "Moneyball," right? No? Because it's really good.

Now, here's the bad side of OKCupid: Although it's "The Fastest-Growing Dating Site" it still only has a few members. Seven million to be exact. And since it's also a social-networking site on the side (which, you can link to your Facebook account) that means that the singles pool gets even shallower. **le sigh**

What I found as an advantage is that it seems that all of the geeks and nerds (aka my soul mates) have flocked to this site. Only a couple of guys that have messaged me have been creeps.

Really? You think "You should get wit me" is going to work? That's not even proper spelling and grammar!

So have I had any luck? Um...Good luck? No. Bad luck? Yes :-(
Which brings me back to why I don't think online dating works as a whole. It's great way to make friends and talk to people and share your beliefs and interests. But I'm a firm believer in physical attraction. Okay, fine, yes, it sounds shallow but it's not. You cannot have a working relationship with a partner without sex, and sex is about physical attraction. Now, if I happen to find a guy that I like on paper AND have physical attraction to... Well now we're talking!!

The best thing I can say for online dating sites is that they open the door to new possibilities. But it doesn't solve the dating dilemma. Which is that we're all cowards and fear rejection :-/

Here are a few tips if any of you should decide to try these or any other dating site:
- Do not put your name or anything private in your profile. Match.com doesn't allow this (they make you go through an approval process before you can make your profile public) but OKCupid and PlentyofFish aren't strict. Remember, once you sign up you basically have an e-mail address with the site. So just use that.
- Don't link your social networking account to the site. It just means that people can look at your private information (Facebook uses your real name). Also, I read somewhere that if you "check in" to a place your suitors/stalkers can see you.
- You don't have to answer everyone that e-mails you. They'll get the point. Also, don't expect everyone to answer your e-mails. Get the point ;-)
- Have fun. Whatever you do, don't start your profile with the words "I don't know what to write on here." Really? It says at the top "Tell Us Something About You." I must say that the best profiles are done be writers and sarcastic folk. If you need help just ask a friend. I'm sure something funny has happened to you in your life. Start with that.
- Don't be ashamed. Did you not see the numbers? MILLIONS of people have their profile out there. MILLIONS of people are single in this country alone. Let's stop the madness. So you had to go on the Internet to find a date. Big deal. Some people buy their groceries online. Their clothes too. Adult toys. Why the shame? The internet is part of our lives now, just remember that it's not your WHOLE life. You are a human being who needs human interaction. Use the Internet as one tool of many.

It's In The Cards

New Year! Wooooohooooo!

Not that 2011 was horrible but I'm ready for the new year. Why? Well because I'm all about starting things fresh and let's just say that I'm done with 2011. I got over the heartbreak (thank you Adele!), I got my ducks lined up at work, and I bought a new house.
It's like I'm standing at the starting line. On your marks, get set...
Yell "Go" already. Fire the gun.

Now I know that there are these rumors that 2012 will be a short-lived year for the entire human population. But seeing as though the end of the world has been predicted at least half a dozen times in just my lifetime, I'm going to be positive and just say that "que sera, sera."

On that same note, however, it's important to go forth with at least some clue as to where you're going.

Sidenote: Do you see how I've grown? The old me would've just gotten in the car and started driving. Good times :-)

So for this blog I've decided that instead of writing down the usual resolutions that I'd look to the cards to get a glimpse not of the future, but of what fate might have in store for me.

Here we go:

So let me start that I got mostly wands and pentacles which happens to me every time I've had a reading. Wands represent passion and pentacles represent health and money (yay). And also the card that I always, always get is a Queen. This time there are three.

First Card (General environment) - Queen of Swords upside down. This means that right now I'm having some communication issues. No kidding. Okay, let's see: I can't get my ideas down on paper, I get tongue-tied whenever I come across a guy I like, and, well, I let my hot temper get in the way of some very important things I wanted to say to certain people.
Yes, I'll agree this is true.

Second Card (Influences and Obstacles) - And we have another Queen. This time the Queen of Wands. So we can say that I am my own obstacle and influence. I totally have to get my shit together.
Small recap: this card represents having charisma and drawing people in, passion. Because she is positioned next to my other Queen, it means that these qualities are tyring to get to me.

**sigh** I really have to get my act together.

Third Card (Goal or Destiny) - Ten of Pentacles upside down. I am going to lose all of my money. Well, that's the worst-case scenario. It could mean an inheritance that I thought existed is really not there or that I will be involved in arguments over money. It also means that I should stay out of the casino.

Fourth Card (Distant Past) - This card is what has influenced me and guess what it is about: money. The Page of Pentacles means messages about money.

Okay, let's put these two cards into perspective for a second. I've been influenced by a good message about money (the car, the house, the spending). Yet, my destiny warns that hard times are ahead.

Fifth Card (Recent Past) - Hey look, money. Five of Pentacles upside down. This card actually is not all that great when it's right-side up, except that there is hope. So it seems that my recent past contains no spirituality and/or friendship. Just loss.

Hmmm... I have to mildly disagree. But let's continue.

Sixth Card (Future Influence) - Remember, the charismatic Queen is my immediate influence. This card is my future influence. Nine of Wands upside down. Oh boy, it means that all of the energy I'm putting into a final battle will be fruitless. I will lose.

And now for card seven (my present position) - Death. I'm sure everyone knows that this card doesn't always represent death but rather change or transformation. Now, it's really curious that this is the card I got as my present position. Because it is also associate with my sign, Scorpio. It's no secret that I've changed a lot this year. Physically and mentally I'm a different person than last January.
Why not? Getting your heart ripped to pieces makes you humbler, more aware, and eventually stronger. And subsequent rejection just adds to the muscle power (totally going to rise out of this one and I will end you family curse).
Plus, I have a new job that I'm very comfortable with. I mean, I haven't gotten the urge to leave yet :-)
Then there's the little things like buying my house, making a home and putting down roots for the first time in my life. I even had a puppy for two days which I took care of as if it were a newborn child.
And speaking of newborns, my nephew will be born in just a few days.
Yes, transformations are definitely happening.

Eighth Card - (Environmental Factors) Or rather how I influence you and how you influence me. Eight of Wands. This card represents energy and how to use it without wasting nothing. Things will get done quickly and with energy to spare.
So the next time you're in line at Starbucks for ten minutes do us all a favor and decide what you want BEFORE you reach the counter. Thanks.

Ninth Card - (Inner Emotions) Another Queen, of Pentacles this time. Meaning that my inner desires are to be successful. Successful in life, in exercise, in everything.

Wow, this one was no surprise. But let's remember that my desire for success can backfire if I don't think before I act.

Okay, now the final card - This is the final result once all of the other nine cards are taken into consideration and if nothing deviates from the plan. The Page of Wands and I'm glad to say that it's right-side up. This card means that I will be getting a message about a trip, my career, or something relating to passion (??) or spirituality.
So once I'm done with my inner struggle and I lose all of my money, I'm getting a message. That's actually really exciting when you think about it.

Alright, this is what's in the cards for me for the coming year (or maybe the coming months). Stay tuned and we'll see what happens.
Happy New Year!

The Meaning of Life

It was a few weeks ago, while I was at the Taylor Swift concert waiting for her to take the stage, that the simplest answer to the most difficult question popped into my head. We were watching the second of Miss Swift's opening acts and just before the last song the lead singer (and I'm sorry I can't remember who they were) said, "...life has no meaning unless you have someone to share it with."
Well, you bet your ass that sparked a fire in me. Unfortunately, I could do nothing but simmer. Who did this guy think he was? How dare he tell me that my life had no meaning! I would've liked to go up to him and strangle him Homer Simpson-style.
Now, of course, you're thinking that I'm overreacting. This statement has been said a million times by a million people. Countless songs, films, books, and poems have been written about this. What made me so angry at that particular moment?
Maybe it was just the perfect time. Let me set the story up for you, let's pull back a bit. At that moment, I was in the middle of purchasing my first home. At that moment, my job was (and still is) in a very stable place. At that moment, my family was healthy and happy.
At that moment, I was watching the phone waiting for a phone call--text message, Facebook request, smoke signal--that wouldn't come.

EPIPHANY!

Is my life really meaningless because there is a realistic chance that I'll never find The One?

No.

Hell no. I've worked too damn hard. The thousands of hours studying for school and working; the money saved for my house and good life I've provided for myself; the concentration and commitment to be as good as I can be at what I set out to do.
Now THAT'S the meaning of life: To do your absolute best with the tools you've been given.
I was given an analytical mind and determination. I also inherited a great deal of pride, straight down from my grandparents and probably their grandparents. That's not always a bad virtue.
You're probably thinking that if I applied myself just as hard to being social then I'd be all set.
Well, yes, and no. It's not like I haven't tried. I'm fully aware that no matter how much I fill the rooms up of my house with my stuff, there will come a point (on a dark and stormy night) when it will feel so empty and quiet that screaming will be my only option to prove that there is life.
It's just that I don't understand. Grades are easy: you do the work, you get an A. Work is easy: you show up, don't screw anything up, and tomorrow you get to come back. But people? There's no analytical formula to people. As much as Cosmo tries to break down all of the rules, the fact is that there are no rules.

Sidenote: Actually, I've followed the rules and that didn't work (see above).

So what do I have? What will have been the meaning of my life if I died tomorrow? All of the tangible things that I've worked so hard to acquire will be gone and the future that parents pass on to their children will not be passed on by me. Will it be counted as less successful because I didn't create a family?
Yeah, right. If I mention Steve Jobs you will think "Apple" (don't foget Pixar!), not "father and husband."

You want me to sort through pages of numbers and find out why the damn thing doesn't balance then I'm your girl. You want me to create a memorable impression on someone by just "being myself" then I'll give it a shot, but I can't promise any results.

Because the best with what I have is all I can do. That's all anybody can do.

Bo-ring

It is with a heavy heart that I report that I have NOTHING new to report. Nothing new on the house hunt. Nothing new on the man (?) hunt. All I've been doing is working, reading, and watching Friday Night Lights which is an awesome show but I think I got all of my TV watching out of the way in my younger years.
The one silver lining is that although I'm no longer actively counting calories (it's just so much work and I don't always have internet and I don't have a gynormous phone with apps) it seems that I'm losing inches. Or that the inches have moved from one place to another. No weight lost, just inches.
Anyway...last four months of the year are coming up and that always makes for good blogging.

Second-date Update

Riddle me this Batman: How are house-hunting and dating alike?
Apparently, a lot.
I've made the grown up decision to purchase a house.
Also... I.... went on a date. Two, in fact. I know right? Crazy things are happening. Soon pigs will grow wings and fly! But I wouldn't count on hell freezing over just yet. As I write this I must inform you all that a) I have not purchased a house, and b) I'm back at square one on the dating "thing."
I know that my singlehood is legend and that there is even talk about a "family curse," but the reality is that a) there is no curse, and b) the legend is, as always, not as true as we'd like to believe (or not believe?). I am normal. I am part of a large group of people who are single. Actually, a very large group of millions and millions of people according to the U.S Census Bureau.
Although our single status doesn't stop us from waking up, going to work, and enjoying life, most of us would like for it to GO AWAY. Hell, some people will pay good money to have it go away.

Sidenote: I don't have cable but as I write this I'm at my brother's house watching "Millionaire Matchmaker" and it's awesome. I love this lady. She just burned a woman's "wish list"heh

The other legend about me that everybody knows is that, well, I'm part gypsy. I went to a dozen schools as a kid, I've lived in several states and two countries, and my attempts to escape from Arizona are as bad as Jim Carrey trying to escape his town in "The Truman Show." I just can't seem to stay in one place. Except now. I just passed the 6-year mark (on and off) of living in the same state. Hell, I've been living in the same neighborhood all this time. That's unprecedented. So since things are going well and my job is stable. I've decided to plant some roots.

And here's what I learned about my two mini-journeys.

First - you must gather information. "Buying a house is a big responsibility and should not be taken lightly." Yeah yeah, tell that to the people who screwed it up for the rest of us. Look, I have a job, a social security number that is actually mine, and money. I'm ready to buy.
Don't blame me for the past. Yes, learn from it and be cautious but don't make the assumption that I'm out to screw you over. I have my shit together. That goes for both lenders and men.

Second - get a wingman (or a real estate agent). You need someone who will help you make wise decisions. Who will listen and understand what it is that you want and help you achieve that goal. Second opinions are always good to have but don't let them make the decision for you. Consider wingmen (or wingwomen, or compadres, or comadres, etc.) as a second pair of eyes, not a second brain.
My real estate agent has a list of essential things that I want in my house. If one of the homes clearly lacks what I'm looking for then we cross it off the list. If she sees potential in something she has me take a look and form an opinion. On the other topic: my bff patiently listens to me bitch hehehehe

Third - narrow down your choices. According to Zillow, there are 24,000 homes for sale in Phoenix. I'm not sure how many straight, single, men there are but for this blog's sake let's say 24,000.
Let me make one thing clear, there's no line of guys waiting outside my door wanting to ask me out. But, I'm not completely without choices. As I said above there have to be a few essentials that you're looking for. And the number one, non-negotiable essential for a guy to have is that HE MUST BE SINGLE. Don't give me any of that Ross Gellar "we're on a break" crap. Don't tell me that things "aren't working out" between you and someone else. Don't be give me the "well, we have an agreement" bullshit. In fact, I am declaring a three-foot radius around me as a "No Bullshit Zone." Done, basta, finito.

Four - once the search is narrowed down, you must explore further. So we went to see a total of four houses a couple of weekends ago. I only wanted one. The same occurred with the above-mentioned two dates. I know what I want, but not only that, it's a feeling too. A connection, if you will.
Now it's not that you automatically start putting in your furniture, knocking down walls, looking at color schemes. And you definitely don't start planning a wedding and thinking what your children will look like. Do we learn nothing from Cosmo, television, and movies? What I mean is that...I was interested.

Which leads us to step five, make an offer.

AND THEN YOU GET REJECTED!

Okay, okay, that's not exactly how it happened. Don't get me wrong, that's what the end result was, but it wasn't that cruel. See the thing is it would be great if everything and/or everyone just bent to our will but unfortunately that's not how the world works. At least not for me. Remember that documentary about Michael Jackson? He went into that Las Vegas furniture store and pointed at what he wanted. Done and done. Yet, was Michael Jackson ever really happy? Look again and you see that the owner is just indulging him and the cameras. Who knows if that furniture ever made it to Neverland Ranch :(

Totally lost my train of thought.

Ah yes, the offer. A stressful situation if I may say so. Put an offer on a house, it gets accepted, and as my real estate agent pointed out: "This is the door you're gonna walk through every day for several years." Not the same thing as with the guys. With the guys it's more like "Do you want to continue learning about this person and seeing what can happen?"
Then comes that sting. Ouch. You get so excited about the possibilities, you've thought about things, you've made sure your Ts are crossed and your Is are dotted. So why the "no"?
Who knows. Actually, I do know because I had to give my own "no". What were my reasons? Sure it's a buyer's market, but that doesn't mean you just go in and get what you want.
You can try to to argue the situation, "But I'm a solid person, blah blah." You can try to re-negotiate, "Tell me what you want and we can work things out." Or you can just accept that it's not meant to be. Actually, you should just accept it because it's unlikely that you'll change a seller or a guy's mind. Let's be honest, you put up the best offer you had. If it's not enough, it's not enough.

There are still 23,999 other houses for sale :-)

The search continues.

Baby Steps

Change.

Whoa, it's difficult. I should've known this. I was warned many years ago but my ego doesn't let me listen to others' advice. At twenty-eight it's difficult to get out of any habit. These past six weeks I've concentrated on two: my nutrition and my anti-socialness.

As a card-carrying member of the Fat Kids of the World, not eating whatever deliciousness I want is like asking Paula Deen to cook a meal without using butter, mayo, or heavy cream: damn near impossible. Paula would have to re-learn everything she knew about cooking. Therefore, I set about to re-learn what I knew about food.

Sidenote: I'm not a believer in "diets." I hear too many people complaining and being unhappy when they're on them and most of them regain the weight. What I set out to do was learn about calories and nutrition and thus make educated decisions about what I put in my mouth.

THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID! (You were all thinking it)

So here's what I learned:

1) Even the tiniest food has a value. I used to wonder why I could work out and not lose any weight. Well that's because I was doing the "exercise" but not the "diet." You would think that someone who has watched so many seasons of The Biggest Loser would have learned this already. But no. As I said before: I like food. I like going to Paradise Bakery in the afternoons to get a chocolate-chip cookie. Or rewarding myself on a job well done with a greasy mushroom swiss burger and fries (Homer Simpson drool). Or, my personal Achille's Heal, a mocha frappuccino. Yeah...that had to stop. Everything has a value. I'm very conscious now of calories, fat content, grams of fiber, sodium, etc. Oh and most of all, I'm conscious of how long it's going to take me on the treadmill to eliminate those calories (usually a long time). BUT that fat kid inside me, the one that will be with me forever because I honestly love that huggable pork chop, still pokes me in the stomach sometimes and says, "c'mon, it would be a sin not to try it. Just a little bit." Nobody's perfect ;-)

2) Coffee and lattes are not the same. Hello, my name is Susana and I'm a Starbucks addict. I go there every morning. I have a gold card with my name on it. The baristas know what I want and how I want it. A couple of times the line was so long that I got my drink delivered in my hand and I was told "it's on the house." Yeah, I'm THAT person. Well, I WAS that person. You see, calorie-counting is exactly like keeping a budget: you have to cut the fat. Interestingly my financial budget had room for morning latte but my nutrition budget didn't, lol. I cut it out and now I walk every morning into the coffee place in my building and order their blend. It's very good and the barista has now remembered who I am and I don't have to tell her that I don't want a receipt. I miss my friends but I'm sure they'll understand. There are plenty more addicts for them to cater to.

3) Fruits and vegetables are bomb! Okay, this one I have to give to my mom because she's always tried to feed us, if not healthy, then at least not heart-attack-inducing meals. She's always taking the fat off of things and she uses grease as little as possible. But one of her tricks was to get us to eat fruits and vegetables without us really noticing. She purposefully mixes green beans with the corn so that we won't pick it out. She doesn't buy potato chips but instead cuts up fruit and puts it on the table, knowing that she raised four fat kids that can't resist anything. So when I read that when I get hungry between meals I should eat some berries or carrot sticks as opposed to a Kit-Kat Bar... well, that one wasn't so hard.

Of course I relapsed. As I write this I can still smell the french fries from this afternoon's trip to Jack in the Box on my fingers. I've also been lagging on my exercises (next blog) but that's what Monday's are for. The point is that there is a light in my brain that has been switched on and I will always be aware of the repercussions of ignoring that light. This isn't about weight. I've lost a lot of weight over these past few years and I am incredibly happy to say that I'm deeply satisfied with my body right now (that's a first). This is more about health and nutrition. Food and I are no longer lovers, we're really good friends.

So does my satisfaction in my physicality have anything to do with my tiny step into being more social? Consciously? No, it doesn't. Subconsciously? I'll leave that to you Psych majors to figure out.
I think that gradually I am losing my distrust in all of society and being more selective about who I just don't want to know/see/listen to. Some people are nice. Some people are honest. Some people of the male persuasion can be nice, honest, and cute. Granted it's like searching for the Holy Grail, but there'll be adventures and experiences along the way. With that being said: I am now taking a step towards being social, and perhaps it could ultimately turn into taking a big step towards reversing the curse. Because, just like with the diet and exercise, this stuff doesn't happen on its own. No one is going to knock on my door and say, "Hi, wanna be friends?" Geez, that didn't even happen in elementary school. I gotta make the effort. So here goes the baby step...

I feel a little dizzy and lightheaded. Does this go away?

A Lake, a Snake, and Tiny Tim

It's taken me forever to write this blog and I do apologize to my fellow travel companion for my procrastination. Yet, it took her almost a month to get her film developed so I'm calling it even :)

Last month, Memorial Day weekend to be exact, my cousin and I decided to go on a road trip. I believe I can speak for both of us when I say that a few days of escape from the world were completely  necessary.
Leave behind the problems, the worries, the heartbreak, and get in a car and drive! (That might be my new mantra).

We started from South Gate (representin') in the early morning. Of course every time I go to South Gate I must stop at my favorite coffee place "Tierra Mia." For you millions of readers out there, you must go! It's delicioso. I hear rumors that there is one in Norwalk but SOMEONE hasn't taken me. I shall keep the name of the guilty party secret. For now.
So off we go towards Lake Havasu, a place neither of us had ever been to. We weren't sure what we were expecting to find. It is, after all, a lake in the middle of nowhere and it was a long holiday weekend. I do believe my cousin held the desire of getting in a bar fight, get me drunk, and get me to hook up with a boy. But more on that later.
We arrived (if memory serves correctly) at around two in the afternoon. The lake was visible from the highway but, swear to the Big Guy in the Sky, it took us like two hours to actually reach the water. We had no idea how to get TO THE LAKE.
We were so hungry that we parked by London Bridge (an actual bridge from London, duh) and had fish and chips at the first place we sat down. I suggested that before the festivities start we should find a place to crash, seeing as though the hard-core party people would be arriving soon. Thus we did two things: we drove all the way back to the beginning of town, entered WalMart and bought two chairs; and we found a hotel room.
And what a room it was.
A corpulent man (big word, I know) in charge of the Motel 6 gave us the key to our room, which was magnificently overpriced, and we lugged our things inside. Or at least to the door. The smell that hit us nearly knocked us over. It was...piss. Yep, no other way to describe it. It smelled like piss. We go back to said innkeeper and informed him of our little problem.
"They all smell the same," he says.
What? Did he personally piss in all of them so they could smell the same? WHAT?!
So he follows us to the room and walks in and he says...nothing. Because he can smell it. He then opens the door to the room across the hallway (which smells relatively better) and says, "This one doesn't have a bathtub."
Really? You think I care about a bathtub at this point? Thank you, we'll take it.
Finally we left our things and proceeded to find out how one gets to the actual lake. Sure, if you have a boat it's easy. Anyway, there seems to be some sort of beach-like thingy but there were too many people there so we drove (more driving) to the part that is owned by the government. True story.
We took out our chairs, unfolded them, and sat down to relax. There were only a few people, the water was clean, and the sun was setting right in front of us. It was great.
Of course we got hungry again. Time to clean up and hit the town *woot*
Okay, disclaimer: I care very little for bars, drinking, and "hooking up" and even less about putting those things together. Which is why I'm about to tell you about the best, most delicious friggin salad I have ever eaten in my life.
Okay, so we go to this place called..? Who the hell cares, it was pegged as a Mexican place. It was pretty  empty, most of the customers were being seated outside. The waitress seats us at a big round table with like seven chairs and I tell her there's no need for this since there's only two of us.
"Susana, sit down"
"No, why do we need this huge table?"
The waitress moves us all the way to the end and it's then that I find out that the table across from us was full of cute boys. Oh well, I'm hungry. Our waiter (because the waitress got huffy) was very nice and my cousin only ordered drinks while I, being a card-carrying member of the Fat Kids of the World, ordered a salad. A scallop salad.
From the balcony we can see some outdoor bar (??) and hear their fantastic DJ. Of course I'm being sarcastic because anyone that would take Adele's "Rolling in the Deep" and mix it with Techno should be shot. Is there no respect anymore?
Anyway! Did I mention that my back is turned and I have no idea who is around us? This will be important later but in the meantime my salad arrives.
O.M.G. I'm not kidding, I want to drive the who-knows-how-many hours back just to eat that salad again. It had these gigantic scallops that were cooked perfectly. The greens were fresh. It had just the perfect amount of dressing and there were pieces of mango scattered about. *insert Homer Simpson drool*
So as I am having fantasies about kidnapping the salad chef, this guy comes up to us and starts talking. He needed to smoke (strike 1), he looked very young (strike 2), and his name was Tim (ball 1). Let me say this to the future mothers of America: Don't name your kid Tim. He will have to forever endure being called Tiny Tim and while it might be funny when he's young, it will not be flattering when he's older.
PS - I'm not the one who started calling him Tiny Tim, though I did think of it.
So Tiny Tim is smoking just outside our area and he starts talking in a Southern twang. Turns out he's from Asheville, North Carolina (one point for Tim). Had he been relatively sober and not thinking with the "other" brain we could've had a conversation. But, alas, Tim and his friends were not sober and were not interested in conversation. In fact he actually said "We're gonna go to BJs"
??????
It's the name of a club.
"You should break your car in and hook up with Tiny Tim," is what I was told by the devil not on my shoulder but sitting right across from me.
"Umm... no," is what I answered. Though I will admit that the thought passed through my mind and stayed there longer than it should've.
Tiny Tim said goodbye and gave us his number in case we wanted to "go on the boat" tomorrow.
From there we left too to see if we'd get into a club but neither of us felt like paying $20 to get into a fight. Therefore we walked around and watched people grinding on the dance floor and this sad drunken creature hopping up and down to a horrible song. No one paid attention to her and it was pretty sad.
Drunks *sigh*

The next morning we went hiking. Again, the purpose was to start at the trail and reach the lake. We walked and talked and were generally having a good time until I hear a hiss!
It was a snake! A snake! Hissing at me!
Yes, I jumped about three feet in the air and yelled. The thing watched us walk away but we were more attentive after that and I think I counted about a hundred lizards and a rabbit because of it. There is a slight drop somewhere when you start to enter the "crack" in the mountain.
btw, the person who wrote the guidebook either has a great sense of humor or has no idea what double meanings are.
So we had to slide down this rock but to get back up (if we made it back) we had to hold on to a rope and climb. Ummm...I don't think so. I don't approve of climbing.
"One of us should try it first."
Yeah, the one of us that isn't me.
After about a half hour of debating and going back and forth, the one of us that isn't me slid down and climbed back up.
"It's really easy," she says a bit too enthusiastically. Why aren't we in Tiny Tim's boat?
So I slide down, fairly easy; and then I climb up, also fairly easy. The lesson: things are worse than what they seem.
Okay, let's keep going. Did I mention we were looking for the lake? Did I mention we didn't find it? Again. Who the hell knows how to reach this damn hole but once we reached the part where there was nowhere else to go but back, well we went back. Walk, climb, trudge. Wait, where are we?
We perhaps got a little bit lost. We perhaps came out on the highway a few yards away from where we parked the car.
Not only is my car a beautiful sight all on its own, but it also had water. Warm water, but water nonetheless.
On our way back we stopped at Dairy Queen to eat ice cream and plan the next leg of the trip which I will not relate because it has nothing to do with a Lake, a Snake, or Tiny Tim whom we never heard from again. I hope he found BJs.

The next post will come sooner, I promise. It's really exciting, I've been counting calories. Oh and there was also that other thing.

Sober May

I just read the last post and realized that only three people probably know what the hell I was writing about. The rest of you possibly thought I literally got drunk. My apologies. Sometimes I write these things so fast that I don't stop to consider that, well, you guys don't know what I'm talking about.

So let's see how I can word this - I've been listening to a lot of Adele, and I know how she feels. I also threw in a bit of Pink, Alicia Keys, a whole lot of Country, and, of course, Bonnie Raitt's "I Can't Make You Love Me" which I consider one of the saddest songs ever written.


Got it? If not, then look it up or ask your neighbor.


So with my drunken/foolish/stupid days behind me. I awake to nice little hangover in the beginning of May. As we all know, this hurts. Literally and figuratively. It hurts a lot (Yes, even for cold-hearted Scorpios). All you really want to do is throw up, take an aspirin, and get into bed. Then repeat. You're mood shifts from tired to grumpy to sad (could not have borrowed the Adele CD from Sarai any sooner).
My mom was talking to me about something today and she said, "It was a couple of weeks ago. When you were sick." Yes, yes I was.

"Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed a little in love now and then. It is something to think of, and it gives her a sort of distinction among her companions." - Mr. Bennett in Pride and Prejudice.

**I would like to interrupt this blog to report that I just spilled a bunch of water over my table and it almost reached my brand-new laptop. Luckily it did not reach my new toy but that's because it was soaked up by the very important paperwork I had on the table. I want May to be over now!**


BUT... hangovers don't last forever.


**Let me interject once more to say that the last statement should also be applied to the current Hangover movie franchise. Really you guys? It's the same script except they've changed the location from Vegas to Thailand. I realize this has worked for the Fast & Furious franchise but I do think we're all burning an awful lot of good brain cells here. I'm just saying.**


As I pointed out in the last post, May is a stand-alone month this year. The decisions made this month have led me down a different path than if I had stayed in my drunken state. (I really hope you Psychology majors are having fun with my metaphor. Comments and analysis are encouraged). I could've kept drinking but that would've only postponed this blog and probably sunk me deeper into the hole I went into.
Obviously it took me a minute to crawl back up and I still have the sense that I'm off-balance (i.e. I can't listen to Lady Antebellum's "Need You Now"). It might take another month or so to fully cleanse the system and that requires some focus. So for the month of June we (by 'we' I mean "Miss I-Kick-Ass-and-I'm-Going-to-Take-the-World-by-the-Balls" me and "Miss I-Want-Normal-and-Simple" me) are going to:
a) work out and focus on our health. Well, we do share one body;
b) be positive. Which could be fun given the difference in what both 'me's think is considered positive; and
c) regroup. Because, apparently, I've been ignoring a goal that--drunk or sober, one personality or two-- I should've never taken my eyes off of.

So stay tuned for... June Bloom (?) June-Never-Saw-This-Coming (?)Okay, I got a whole month to think about the title. But no worries my faithful readers, you do not have to wait a whole month for the next blog because there was a road trip this past week :-) Stay tuned for the details of our bank heist, hiding in canyons and fighting off deadly snakes, and meeting sexy-yet-dangerous men.

Disclaimer - Some of the details of the next blog may have been created by the author's imagination. By 'some' we mean 'all'.

Mid-Year Update

It’s May. Usually I put up a mid-year blog post to see how things have progressed. I’ve always said that the most interesting things happen to me in the last half of the year. With the prospect of two weddings, a possible week-long vacation, and the usual celebrations, I’m sure the end of 2011 won’t disappoint. But this year I’m jumping the gun on my mid-year update because, quite honestly, it felt like the past four months were jam-packed. Also, I’m predicting that the month of May is going to be a stand-alone month. It may very well define the rest of the year.

Someone told me at the beginning of the year that I had too many resolutions:

1) Work hard and play hard

2) Volunteer/Be charitable

3) Write/Finish certificate program

4) Travel

5) Reverse the curse

Perhaps. It would also explain why January through April was so crazy. In February I took out the “Volunteer/Be charitable” resolution because it didn’t look like I could fit it into my schedule. Yet… I was pretty effing generous the last couple of months and, yes, it counts even though I’m not happy about it. So the resolution stays!

I also sent that $10 text message to the Red Cross 

The first resolution, I have to say, is the best one. I’ve gotten into a good groove at my job, the office is taking shape nicely (finally put up some stuff on the walls), and I have not feared for my job once in the past four months. I’d say that’s pretty darn good. It’s that confidence in the fact that I am good in at least ONE THING that really helps me get out of bed in the morning.

I also bought a sweet new ride and, well, let’s just say that life has treated me very well in the “work and economy” department.

Stay in school kids ;)

There hasn’t been much travel which is both sad and a relief. I went to LA in January to, once again, attend a taping of The Ellen Show. Once again, we left with a crappy gift (a Bruno Mars CD which is good an all but not up to the standard of say, an iPad). I think I’m done with The Ellen Show. I also went to Prescott to visit my peeps for a weekend and play Glee Karaoke (awesome!). At the end of May there is a road trip planned and I still have a week’s worth of vacation time (and a new car!) to plan something else. I think I hear the East Coast calling my name.

I have to admit that my other two resolutions took the biggest toll on me. January started off fine. I thought I knew exactly what to expect. What’s that saying? “If you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans.” A small tremor in February warned me that something was happening but it wasn’t until the next month that the earth really shook and chaos ensued.

I completely took it for granted that in March I was starting another class. (Insert sarcastic tone here) Excellent! Just in time.

In my novel writing class we learn that the key to a good story is to keep piling on trouble onto the protagonist.

By mid-March I knew I was in a novel.

What to do? What to do? This is the moment when one’s brain is so flooded with information and choices and dilemmas that it literally shuts down.

Therefore, one loses the ability to think rationally.

Therefore, one does stupid things.

No regrets. I think it’s healthy to do something stupid every once in a while: jump out of an airplane, get really drunk, jump off a cliff (that one’s a metaphor).

So let’s just say that in April I got really drunk and jumped off a cliff (I won’t jump out of an airplane cuz I don’t like to fly). During said drunkenness I also considered dropping one of my classes, which would’ve impeded me from obtaining my certificate :-0

With a slight hangover, I would like to give a warm welcome to Sober May.

Welcome To Adulthood, Here are Your Keys

Wow, I went from one blog a week to one a month. That's amazingly pathetic on a couple of levels. Then again, if I had time to watch every Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode (again) you bet your ass I'd do it.
But, alas, I don't. I have become a full-fledge adult. It bites.
Here in these United States of America, people move to different levels based on age. At 16 you get your driver's license and thus become the newest errand boy/girl. Congratulations. At 17 you can go see rated-R movies without being accompanied by an adult. Said adult is usually your cousin or whatever but, hey, more popcorn for you. At 18 you can vote and, if you are male, be drafted. Again, congratulations. 21 is the year we all show our true IDs to buy liquor, but by this time we've already decided how much we can handle and what drinks we like. It's really not that fun, get over it. Finally at 25 your insurance goes down.
There are no milestones after that until you reach 55 and you start getting senior citizen discounts. Then there's retirement which changes all the time so who the hell knows.
ANYWAY... My point is that these are just numbers. Maturity comes to each of us at a different age. For example, I didn't get my license until I was 18 because I didn't have a car and I didn't want to pay. I'd been getting into R-rated movies since forever because I snuck in. I didn't vote until I was like 24 and I didn't have to get insurance until now, at 28, because that is when I bought my first car.
Yes, I bought a new (new) car.
It started when the Altima went in for her tune-up a few weeks ago. My trusty mechanic called me and said that blah blah blah (some kind of car-speak) I needed a new car. Basically the oil had engine parts in it. That's bad. So bad that he wouldn't even consider fixing the engine because it would cost me a lot and it might break again. I'm not gonna lie, I was very sad. The Altima and I have been "there and back again." I was almost at 170,000 miles. We crossed the country three times, almost made it to Chicago, and drove the Pacific Coast. First time I drove that car, I totally got lost and drove around Los Angeles for hours. It was the beginning of a beautiful journey, and now it's ended.
Of course the easiest thing to do was get a new Altima. Duh! But being the rational person that I am, I decided to look around first. For two weeks I asked questions, looked at car deals, checked out the financing, etc.
Since buying a car is a family deal I took my mom and sister with me to test-drive the cars. I thought it would be fast. Pick out a car, drive it, decide if I wanted it or not. Turns out that's not how it works. They suck you in. Like the mob!
We arrived at the Toyota dealership at noon. Immediately a very nice, handsome guy got us in. He had the Altima checked for a trade-in price while we browsed. First was the Prius because I consider myself environmentally friendly. Except that the Prius is kind of slow and it feels like you are inside a nut. Therefore we must screw the envirionment for a little while longer and find something faster and bigger :)
By this time we have another seller with us because it turns out our young man is on his second day at work. I really feel the pressure to help him make his first sale, but he's not that cute. Next is some crossover thingy that we all love but when the price-tag is shown to me I forget all about Mr. Fancy Four-wheels. Finally we drover Mr. Best Seller, the Camry. The Camry is a spacious car but it didn't grab me. If I'm going to spend the next ten years with something (or someone) I want to be able to say "I fell in love at first sight" or at least "It may not look like much but damn it's a good ride."
Now comes the hard part: escape. I don't know why car dealerships are out in the open when it feels like you are trapped inside a cell until you agree to sign a piece of paper. Granted, I was being really nice because they were being nice. Yet, every time I asked for the FINAL PRICE they kept leaving and muttering in silence. Does no one have Excel on their computer? Perhaps a calculator? Three hours after we walked in I walked out with a number (final?) and hungry as hell. The three of us went to eat and I received not one, but two phone calls from the dealership across the street. Something about the cars flying out of the lots. To which I asked "You have flying cars?"
Now let's move over to our friends at Nissan. There was no eager rookie waiting for us here. We met with a nice, no non-sense woman who right off the bat asked me how much I wanted to pay a month. When I told her my figure she gave me two choices. I immediately fell in love with her even when I pointed at a nice car and she said "that's not in your price range."
ALRIGHT!
We have two options. A crossover (I already forgot the name) in black, very simple features, drives well, and good MPG. OR the Altima. Not just any Altima. An ocean-grey, brand-spanking new Altima. "It corners like it's on rails." Yeah, I still don't know what it all does but did I fall in love with this car? Yes. Is it a good ride? Yes. At least we know that if the curse continues I have a damn good car.
Now it's time to play hardball. That took about an hour which was unnecessary because if they had run my credit sooner then we all would've gone home sooner. By this time we are all exhausted so I send my mom and sis home in our old Altima because the trade-in was so proposterous that I am deeply offended and give them a firm "no" that I really means "fuck you."
You would think that deciding on a car would be the longest part, but it isn't. Turns out there's a shit-load of paperwork to read and sign. Of course they're expecting you NOT to read it. But n matter how tired I am I read ever line because a) that's what you should do and b) the finance guy was being a condescending douche-bag.
Did I mention that both dealerships sent in a Hispanic finance specialist. WTF? Both of them tried to sweet-talk me in "our community's language." Fuck off. I'm speaking the universal language of Money.
FINALLY at 11:00 p.m. I go home with a brand-new baby :)
Just like any new parent I can't sleep that night. What did I just do? Can I do this? I just made a long committment. What if something happens? I tossed and turned all night with nerves, stress, and worry taking over me. In the morning I look outside and check if everything is okay.
I just now, two weeks later, took the car out for it's first real drive. I was nervous and we haven't quite gotten used to each other but the trip went well. "Breezy" (as she was aptly named by my cousin) is cool, fast, and very smart. She likes the highway but moves easily on the streets too and she likes to play the radio real loud in both situations. She doesn't like dirt, which is something we have to work on.
Anyone else will tell you that nothing has changed. In fact, several people asked when the first road-trip would be. Although I'd love to do it, I also know that I can't. It's not that I'll never do it again (really? c'mon) but it's the very sudden sense of responsibility that I've acquired. Here is a piece of metal on four wheels that represents several aspects of my life. So tomorrow instead of a road-trip, it's off to work. When the paycheck comes I have to pay the bills first and then decide how much I can splurge. That's how adulthood works :-)