ooh, another entry... how exciting

I guess I really should've been posting this much while I was still in exciting places, doing exciting things, but alas, I'm home and I'm bored, so I'm going to post a lot. (I really need to get a job, and soon). I've been so bitter at my friends who are now with guys. Timi is really happy and I'm happy for her, and I even like her boyfriend, but I can't help but hear this voice in my head that says, "She's gonna leave you soon. In fact, she already may have in a way. Soon she'll get married and have babies, and be too busy and you'll be all alone". And that would be good and well, because in a way I've always expected her to do that at some point. I've been preparing myself for it for some time now. Now there's Korin who is possibly moving in with her boyfriend temporarily or permanently. She poses a whole new problem because I always felt like she was my "partner in crime" or something. Like we'll go around the world making trouble for ourselves and everyone else and have a great time doing it. I know I'm being a complete hypocrite of course, because only a few months ago I was in their situation. I guess the fact that I gave that up to do what I really want to do with my life (Yes, at the moment that consists of living with my parents in Torrance, but I have plans... oh yes, I do), makes me feel like they should too, which is absolutely dumb, I know. What they have is better than what I had, and "living my own life" wasn't the only reason for me ending my relationship, but nevertheless, I'm bitter and I want all of my girlfriends to leave their boyfriends, move in with me, acquire several cats and live happily ever after. Hah, wait, maybe I'm a lesbian? A polygamous one, no less. Well, if I ever wanted to give my mother a heart attack, this would be the winner. Or am I just lonely? I think that I am, but not for a relationship. I know a relationship would fill that gap, and it's sad that many people do choose that route. I just don't understand why I can't fill it with what I really want, which is close friends who aren't distracted by their own hole fillers a.k.a. boyfriends. Here I am being cynical again. Of course they're not just hole fillers, they're nice friends who you can have sex with too. Except that they're more than just that. They're possessive and they need constant attention, the way that friends don't. But wait, have I just come full circle and am I the "boyfriend" that I don't approve of? Am I annoyed at the boyfriends because I am "the boyfriend"? This is all terrible, and terribly confusing. I'm going to bed. Good night!

about my writing

As requested by Timea Farkas, I will be changing all of my "me and Name" sentences to "Name and I" sentences to make my writing more grammatically correct. =)
But seriously, the previously mentioned person complemented my writing some weeks ago and it made me a bit self-conscious. I feel like it's been showing in my latest entries, partly* because I'm afraid to write badly, and partly because I've been trying harder to make them quality pieces of work... or something like that. I know I'm not a bad writer, but I also know I'm not at all an excellent one... yet. I think that if I work on it and practice more, it could become quite decent. I'd say I'm at about a 5 out of 10 of my writing potential. Of course I got this number using my precise writing goodness calculator. (That one was a huge Rena-cliche by the way). Being in this in-between stage makes me nervously satisfied with some phrases and paragraphs because while they look good to me, stylistically, structurally and grammatically, I feel that any critisizm would hurt badly. What I'm trying to say here is that I am trying to write well and that I can only hope that from time to time I succeed.

Now I've only made myself more self-conscious. Go me.

*Actually, this one I had to look up: partially, partly - partially is of degree, eg, partially deaf; partly is of extension, eg, partly under water

...might never live those days gone by, but we can try...

Yesterday, January 26th was the two year anniversary of the death of my cousin Mourad. He was in the Marines and he died in an helicopter crash in Iraq. If anyone used to read my LiveJournal I wrote about this when it happened. I was pretty upset and I didn't know why. I didn't even know what sort of a person my cousin was at the time of his death. My clearest memories of him are of both of us being around 5 years old and me making him a tea party when he came over to our house one time, and also playing with him at their former San Luis Obispo home when I first came to California at around 11 years old. I remebered today as it happened two years ago, and I remembered sitting on the roof of my King St. house crying into my cup of tea while smoking my first non-drunk cigarette. I remember telling Larkin about it and him consoling me and how his dining room looked blurry over his shoulder.
As strange as this sounds I haven't seen him or my uncle Rufat(my dad's brother) or the rest of their family in probably four or more years, even though they live in San Diego. Our families have never been that close, but I think that's mostly because my mom and their mom aren't that close and my mom is normally the initiator of family gatherings and if she's not motivated, no one is. I didn't go to the funeral because I was up in Santa Cruz in the middle of midterms, and I also didn't go to the one year anniversary for the same reason. This time I couldn't "escape" this family gathering, and headed down to San Diego yesterday afternoon with my dad. A group of about 10-15 people went to the cemetary to set down some flowers and then we went to a local Christian orthodox church (my aunt is pseudo-Christian I think) where a priest performed a special service just for our group. The whole time I felt pretty awkward because first of all, I no longer felt actual sadness at this point, and also because I couldn't really relate to my cousin (his sister) Shayla and their friends because I felt like they had this bond that I've missed out on during high school and college. Last time I saw her, she was a skinny 13 year old and now she's almost 18, graduating high school, has awesome individual taste in clothes and music and is way ahead of where I was at 18 in terms of alcohol tolerance. There was also a whole lot of Russian family friends' children at whom I used to scoff at as "those super-Russian kids", who now happen to all speak in English to each other. It was very odd because these kids are around my age (18-24), they're Russian and/or Azeri, Jewish, Armenian, Georgian, but also as perfectly intergrated into California life, accent, etc. as I am. I've been passively looking for this combination all through college and it's been right inside my family this whole time.
After getting well-buzzed with my "little" cousin and her friends, exchanging emails and promises to keep in touch more (time will only tell if we fulfill them), I left a previously dreaded, awkward engagement with a huge smile on my face, good food in my stomach, good feelings flowing through my still slightly reeling head and memories of 5 year old Mourad drinking imaginary tea from a tiny teacup. I suppose I'll take what I can get.

Encuentra la felicidad en el trabajo o no serás feliz.

Find happiness in work and you will not be happy. So said Christopher Columbus. Should I commit to a job that will most likely make me miserable for 8 hours of my day, 5 days a week for 2 years but will pay off all of my student loans? First off, let me say that this opportunity isn't knocking on my door, not even close. I have to go out and try for it, but I suppose I have an "in" at this bank and hopefully this time I won't mention any plans of studying abroad at the interview, which is what guaranteed me such a swift rejection last time. I consoled myself by saying that I don't want to be tied down my senior year in college and it made sense at the time. I was relatively happy at the library and saw no reason to leave except better pay. But I was unwilling to give up my life for better pay. Times have changed, I've gone to study abroad and right now I need money to intensely pay off my loans and be a free woman in 2 years time. But that's 2 years out of my 20s. I see these craigslists ads for writing interns, light editing positions, internet magazine contributors... jobs that in a way seem completely out of my sphere of interest (and perhaps reach), but at the same time, jobs that would excite or challenge me in some way. Excite me more than offering yet another credit card with a low interest rate to the next customer.
I find that being home limits me as well. I can feel this unspoken and invisible pressure to go for the bank jobs as opposed to the creative jobs. There's also a certain unfavorable disposition towards the shit, temporary jobs that would give me immediate cash, such as the graveyard shift as an LAX shuttle dispatcher (ha!). Not that I'm really striving for those jobs, but the fact is that I would consider them more seriously if I didn't have my mother's disapproving aura permeating through my brain. On my own I'm a bit less picky, a bit less "clean" and a bit more idealistic. I feel myself quickly sinking into the quicksand of my mom's household and to escape it I need some sort of privacy, my own space to talk on the phone to any employer that I want, any friends that I want, at any hour of the day. There's no actual restriction on my life in this house, but there are disapproving glances and those glances will slowly kill my individual self if I don't do something about it quickly. The rooms are getting separated tonight and I'm getting my own bedroom back. Decorated the way I want, arranged the way I want and containing my now grown-up life.

I'm back!

I was reading over my last post and I thought that people who read it probably figured that I stopped writing because I've killed my sister and went to some Venetian tourist jail. Au contraire! I went to Paris, and me and my sister actually got along quite well there (for most of it). She's still a huge pain in the ass, but she's my sister and I love her, and she makes me laugh... sometimes with her, and sometimes at her, but nevertheless we had a good time in Paris except for the problem of my insane relative. The relative whose apartment we stayed at in Paris is my grandpa's cousin. She's married to a very rich French man, and has a little yappy dog of the Papillon breed (look it up on Google images to get a greater understanding of my aunt). Thank god she decided to stay at her husband's Parisian suburb house instead of the apartment with us because if she hadn't she would've ruined our Paris experience completely. I won't even go into the details of what hell she put me and my sister through by introducing us to her friend Elizabeth who is as crazy as my aunt-person, and a huge bitch on top of that too, but in the end we somehow got blamed for breaking an antique statue that my aunt had in her apartment, attempting to steal her camera, and also me having several men at the apartment when Elizabeth came over to pick up the key before I left. All of these things are not even close to what could possibly be the truth. Nothing got broken or stolen, and no men were ever invited by me to my aunt's house (though one sicko did prank call me when I was all alone there to say "You fucking bitch, I'm gonna getcha..." which was actually kinda scary and worrying at the time). Please... do NOT ask, unless I see you in person and you want to hear all of the horrific but hilaroius details of that ordeal. Oddly enough, between all this complete and utter insanity, I managed to fall in love with Paris. I can't begin to explain how incredible the city is, how many things there are to do and see and how it makes you feel just walking around, going into random tiny shops, bookstores and boutiques, peoplewatching while eating your Nutella crepe at Place de Vosges, getting lost in the Louvre... I can't say the same about Parisians though. When I go back, I'm definitely taking an arsenal of at least basic French because from the get go those people are just not very nice at all. Such a change from Spain. Sure, there are some bitchy Madrileno store clerks, but I found the general Spanish atmosphere to be a lot more friendly and welcoming, even before I could speak any Spanish.

From France I went back to Ireland, which I didn't end up seeing at all because I wanted to spend as much time as possible in Paris, so I only went back to Shannon to sleep there my last night in Europe and fly back home. The last day in Paris I finally understood all of my Cordoba classmates in their lamentations about wanting to go back home. I was in beautiful Paris, and really, all I wanted is to be in ugly little Torrance with my family. This was one of the oddest things about this trip. I actually truly missed my family. Not Timi, not Korin, not Larkin, not anyone. Just my mom and my dad and my cat (I saw my sister just two days before that), and our little apartment. It felt odd but nice, and the funny thing is that it hasn't gone away yet. I'm still as happy to be home as I was 4 days ago. I still haven't fought with my mom (though I know it's bound to happen sooner or later), I still haven't gotten that sick, suffocating feeling I usually get on about the second night of being home, and I still haven't gotten the extreme urge to hang out with friends or go out. Now, I'm not even suggesting that it's not gonna happen, I guess I just feel like something is different. I don't feel completely awful about living at home, especially since I've realized that I do have a bunch of friends in LA, some that I knew were here, and some that pleasantly surprised me. So I guess I won't be stuck watching Russian TV with my family when I get home, though for the next few days, that might suit me just fine. =)

Socorro!!!

That means "Help!" in Spanish. I'm in Venice, Italy and while I'm supposed to be loving it because it is an amazing city, I'm being driven up the wall by my sister. She's a great artist, but I think the one thing that she's better at than art is driving me insane. Oh yes, she has that art down to a T. I won't go into detail about exactly what she does to drive me insane, but let's just say that any sort of fun or intersting activity that doesn't involve looking at paintings is out of the question. I honestly wish that I hadn't come to Venice. I know I will later, and I know I'll have such a better time, so why am I here now? Because I was decieved by my own optimistic mind once again. I thought that we were family and things are going to work out ok. Things are not ok, and when she acts like they are it drives me even more insane. Larkin was right, I will be miserable at home, so for that exact reason I will make just enough money to afford moving out, and then get out of there as soon as I can. Thank god that I'm pretty sure I have a temporary job lined up as soon as I get to LA, or else I'd panic.
We are leaving for Paris tomorrow and I can't wait, because there I will really be able to get out on my own and do whatever the hell I want. In Venice and in Antwerp we were stuck together because we had the same host and I felt strange just breaking off of them, though I wanted to so badly (and probably should've). There is absolutely no way that I'm paying her back for these RyanAir tickets. On top of everything, she has the nerve to tell me that if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't get to see Venice or Belgium. Excuse my French, but fuck that! I'd rather not be here at all and not almost ruin my first impression of there amazing places than be here like this. I'd rather be spending extra time in Paris and in Ireland by myself than being driven insane by her "company". Traveling alone was sooo much better! At least I met normal people at hostels.

End of rant.

NYE and Antwerp

Feliz Ano Nuevo!

(I also posted pics on my previous posts, so go back and look at them... now)

My New Years Eve turned out a lot tamer than I expected it to be, mainly because I didn't want to spend €30 on a couple of hours in a discoteca (which I now think was a mistake) and because after ringing in the new year at Plaza Catalunya in Barcelona with 6 portuguese speakers, we couldn't get into any of the bars, so I decided on going to the airport earlier than expected. After a flight to Paris and a 1st class train to Antwerp (they didn't have anything cheaper than a youth priced first class ticket, which actually wasn't even that expensive... 1st class is nice though), I was met by my sister an her non-axemurderer internet friend named Steven. After about 10 minutes of "Oh how nice, it's my sister!" I began to want to strangle her once again. Ah the good old days. She's not only driving me crazy, she's driving Steven crazy, which proves to me that I don't have these feelings just because she's my sister. Steven actually is really nice and interesting. He works at the library in Antwerp and he loves his job and he's almost making me want to go to library school. If the translation thing doesn't pan out, that's probably what I'll do. It's a bit too static of a job for me though. I dunno, maybe I'll save being a librarian until I'm older and more settled down and have actually chosen a place to live in this world.
Antwerp is beautiful. The central area is so alive and there is a great museum (in which I spent too much time because my sister would not leave), gorgeous buildings of all different eras, and I have to say, the best shopping I've seen anywhere. That includes Paris. I guess Antwerp is considered very stylish and there is a fashion institute, a fashion museum and people in general are very stylish. Overall, I love it, and I have the nicest host to show me around. As long as I pretend that my sister isn't whining and complaining every 5 minutes. Yesterday we went to Bruges, which was really beautiful as well, but a bit too touristy, and tomorrow we're going to Brussels. Should be exciting. My sister is cooking right now... let's just hope that after this dinner I live to see Brussels. Ciao!