Food 4 Thought--- Inter"racial" Relationshipz

For the 3 people who read this blog, you probably know that I am dating (pololeando/noviando/whatevs) a wonderful, superawesomemanofmydreams Chileno (LL) who is pretty much too good to be true. Fact. So in the 8 months we've been together, it's never really crossed my mind that we are supposedly in an "interracial" relationship. Hmm. Let's take a gander, skal vi?

The other day I was reading Cosmo (don't judge, any US magazine is a good one in this situation) and I came across an article (can't find the online version, damn) that highlighted the relationships of four interracial couples-- most of whom were pairs of a white person and a black person (PC?? i can never figure that out...). They're talking about how, to them, it doesn't matter that their partner is of a different skin tone and that they find it horribly out of date that people still frown upon them. These debbie-downer frowners most often are encountered in the form of old-fashioned g-pas and g-mas who haven't really moved past the whole two-separate-water-fountains ordeal. And another common DD frowner category noted by those in the relationships tend to be black people who think it's "whack" or "disrespectful" for a black woman to date a non-black man and vice versa. There was one couple, a black man and a Hispanic woman, who mentioned that they enjoyed being together because not only are they able to see two different view points, but they are able to share (and or commiserate) various race-related issues and experiences. Nothing ground-breaking or new, but a marginally-interesting read (it was Cosmo, people, get real).

Obvio that it occurred to me: "Wait! Am I in an interracial relationship?!??" Amigos- the thought has literally never crossed my mind. Sounds dumbo but I'm not lying!! I think my brain has conceived the notion of an interracial couple as a pair of people who have noticeable physical differences (most obvously skin colors, god that is so lame... are we really still looking at people through that horribly shallow lens??). Cemented semantics, I suppose. Well, as it appears, I do, in fact, find myself in an "interracial" relationship. I think... Well, I don't know... Not convinced at all, actually... Are we really difference races?? The word seems so drastic, makes it appear as if one is a zebra and the other is a giraffe.

According to the American Association of Physical Anthropologists (legit bitches), "the term race or racial group usually refers to the categorization of humans into populations or ancestral groups on the basis of various sets of heritable characteristics." Yes, I suppose LL and I come from different ancestral groups... but really at the end of the day- mine are from Norway (jeg elsker deg!!), Ireland, and France, and his are from Italy and España. If I'm not mistaken, all of those countries are in Europe. Hmm, and the plot thickens. And as far as "heritable characteristics" go... well, our eyes are different colors?? He tans better than I do?? I had braces, he didn't????? I'm sorry but for me, these kinds of facets just don't constitute a difference in race. Punto.

How I would classify us, on the other hand, is as bilingual, inter"national" or inter"cultural" because, at the end of the day, those are really the only factors that separate us (or- better yet, bring us together). Interesting to think about. Really, the challenges that we most frequently affront stem from cultural idiosyncrasies, differences that have nothing to do with one's "race" but all to do with the location in which one was raised, nurtured, and learned to be oneself. How one views society, how we face obstacles, how one perceives the world around them are the differences that comprise our inter"cultural" relationship. I must add though, that where one is born and subsequently lives their life is more often than not linked to physical characteristics-- but that's a whole other pond I'm not gonna wade into at this moment.

Interesting. Verrrrrrrry interesting.... You'd think the whole interracial notion would have popped into my brain by now... but gosh... I think I've just been too busy falling in love to notice...

Crazy in Love

Ok- so I've been somewhat of a blogging bum the past 2 weeks but nowwww I have SO MUCH blogworthy material I don't even know where to begin!! Aaah!

To start off, I'm gonna be honest people... I've been in a funky little funk the past week (emo wah wah stuff of which I will graciously spare the depress-o details) but today, Monday of all days, I am HIGH ON LIFE mothaf&"$%ahs!!! Can't stop singing, walkin' with a spring in my step, sans the standard Santiago stink-eye. Happy as a little clam.

WHY?!?!?

BECAUSE BEYONCE F-ING ROCKED MY WORLD!!!!!!!!! I'm not kidding- allow me to introduce to you her new #1 FAN: yours truly. I love her. I want to be her groupie. I want to be her BFF.

And this story is pretty f-ing awesome, so I urge you to retract your gag reflex and read along.

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So- last week, my <3 style="font-style: italic;">Movistar saying that he'd won 2 free tickets to the Beyonce concert (at.. Movistar Arena) on the 14th. I, naturally, thought it was a joke. Free things in CHile?? Free Beyonce tix?!? In CHile??? Me estay weveando!?!? He called the company who said that all he had to do was go to the Will Call area to pick them up before the show started. Hmm.. I just kept thinking that we were being Punk'd and we'd get there and get gakked on old-school-Nickelodeon style. But, mis amigos, t'was not the case. Not case case at all.

We go to pick up the entradas and then are taken to a little booth where a girl is waiting to "escort us to the VIP lounge." WHHHATTT?!!? Then-- a photographer from El Mercurio, Chile's most prestigious newspaper, kindly asks us if they can snap a photo of us for the Vida Social section. UH, DUH!! Please don't trip on my red carpet when I become famous. But seriously!?!? I was so excited- embarrassing actually. Poor LL. Duh- I was taking a million pictures and kept saying "OH MY GODDD!!" and smiling the token "drunk goon" smile the whole damn time. Did I care, hell no. It was AWESOME. And the concert hadn't even started.

But let's take a quick voyage back about 30 hours to Saturday morning. It's 12:00 and LL, Tomás, and I drive to the airport to pick up Tomás' GF who'd flown in to visit him from Nova Scotia (burr.). While waiting and wandering around, we hear buzz that miss B was landing and was gonna be making a quick appearance. Hmm, sounds more interesting than listening to the creep-o with Nuts-4-Nuts smeared all over his face talk to us. We casually, non-starstruckedly, meander to a special exit where all the press and paparazzi were hangin. Playin' it cool man. Well, they begin to block off the exit (word o' mouth spreads like fayah) and we pretend like we belong. I speak in English on purpose. Wait wait wait... annnnd, after a few backup dancers, and bodyguards the size of Shaq+theYeti, she emerges thru the door looking SMOKIN HOT in sky-high heels, shorts, a reallyf-ing cute hat, and Ray-Bans... all smiles, stops and says "hi" (Heyyy Giiiirl!!!) and casually walks to her SUV. OGM OMG OMG OMADFKGHÑ. She was SO cute and I immediately decided that we are going to be BFF. I love her. LOVE her.

Back to the VIP lounge. We walk in the door, flash our wrist bands, and are ushered into an awesomely DJ'd, free drink, free appetizer, haven for "people who are important." We feel cool. Actually, LL feels like an idiot because I'm an embarrassing wreck of excitement. Sry, it cannot be contained. It was unfortunate that it was Sunday night, or I would have aprovechado the hell outta those pisco sours and tequila sunrises...

We are there for about an hour before the attendants began to traipse around to each person saying, "it's starting!!" LL and I run (literally... now we are both embarrassing) to the cancha where Señorita Beyonce opens with: Crazy in Love. I AM CRAZY IN LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!! She is so sexy. Her voice is outta this world. She is- a performer. I, indie music DJ extraordinaire, am not accustomed to concerts that are... shows. The lights, outfits, dancing- todo- was 100% captivating. And she was so adorable! Smiling, genuinely loving what she is doing, passionate, moved almost to tears seeing/hearing all of her fans volviéndose locos. You could feel, see her sincerity. As quoted by Publimetro this morning: there are 4 reasons why Beyonce is a diva- she truly sings, she is an incredible dancer, she knows how to put on a show, and she exudes sensuality. Exactly right on. Her voice gave me goosebumps. De verdad. And not to mention, last year , Forbes listed her 4th on its list of the 100 Most Powerful and Influential Celebrities in the world, 3rd on its list of the top-grossing musicians, and number ONE on the list of top Best-Paid Celebs Under 30 with over $87 million dollars in earnings between 2008 and 2009. You. Go. Girl. What a badass... There's a legit role-model for all you cabras chicas... And as mamallama states: "oh, she is just so classy." It's true.


So- if you are ever in the market to listen to an amazing voice, gawk at a sexy mamacita, and be generally entertained, I'd definitely recommend pony-ing up the plata and attending a concert of hers.

And if you use Claro, Entel or anything else but Movistar... I don't think I have to tell you what to do...

How important is $$$$$$$$$$$ to you??

In college, I went through the pretty tippy phase of thinking, "it doesn't matter if I don't end up making money" blah blah blah because I'll be self-fulfilled and all that hippy, happy love noise. Well, my friend, I'm learning very quickly that life costs $$. No frakkin' free lunches involved. Actually, that's a lie. At work, I get free lunch. But it gives me serious IBS, so maybe not so worth the glorification. There are bunches of bills to pay and here in CHilito, you are charged for everything possible. Go pee? $400 pesos. Own a bank account? $4000 pesos/month. Etc, etc. Not to mention that it's not exactly cheap for me to go home every once in a while (once per year?? yikes...). There's a quick $1300+ chalk right down the tube. Chalkity-chalk-chalk.

It's not that money is the most important thing in the world. Trust me, if that were the case I sure as shit would not be living here. The salaries are pesimo and competition rife (it's tricky when a country has 16,000,000 inhabitants and few job positions that are all located, pretty much, in one city in the whole country). But to be fair, the cost of living is lower (for me at least- no car, rockin a pre-paid phone plan, siphoning internet from my amigos in 31, etc) and, at times, I run an advantage for being a foreigner (hmm, rethinking that actually...) in competing for jobs in international companies looking for someone who is a native English speaker, who also manages Español. As always, a plus and a minus.

I always thought that money wasn't going to be important to me- and honestly, living a Polly-Pocket lifestyle really isn't all that hard/demanding/agonizing. I don't go out on shopping sprees- unless it's purchasing a robbery-proof purse, of course... I don't have an oven/functioning stove, therefore, I spend, what, $10 a week (?) on food... little things that are financially manageable while obv leaving room for fun things like Pisco Sours, el cine, and weekend trips to la playaaa. BUT- what I do tend to mull over in my ever-spinning, over-worrisome brain are the multitudes of possible problems that could stem from such a PollyPocket paycheck. What if I have to make an unexpected trip home?? Pow- there goes all my cash. Get sick/fall and get hurt for realz?? Will take forever y más allá to pay back. And what happens when I become a real, non-PP, adult?? With, like, other things (ehhh, kids???) to worry about. Honestly, all I want is for my little niñitos to have the same opportunities that were available to me growing up. No silver-spoons required, but I want them to be able to go to a good school/university, see the world, go on fun-fam-vacays-- you know the tippy... And my dad worked (works) his ass off to provide my family those things. Twelve hour (+) work days- everyday. EVERY. Day. While always finding time to tuck us in and give a back scratch (24 and still love 'em).

//So, is it wrong to make decisions based off of billz?
//If you had an opportunity to work somewhere that you weren't floored about but payed you much better than your current situation, would you?

My boss, el viejito, is always telling me how he thinks our generation is failed and flawed for searching for who we are, looking for opportunities that lead toward self-actualization and personal fulfillment. Are those bad things?? I'd say, hell no. But at the same time, in this world, this economy (as tired as you are of hearing it), should you pass up employment/experience just because it's not your ideal path? Lose out on a job, when they are so few & far between, for such idyllic reasons?

It's these confrontations our generation, in my buzzzziest opinion, are faced with grappling. How do we go about being our best self, doing what we love, carving a path of fulfillment while balancing our bills, our unexpected expenses, unemployment, our life? It's never gonna be a cake-walk, that's fo shizzle. Not gonna be many free lunches (unless ur lucky!) or puro green-lights- but what else can you do than hope for the best, that everything will work out??

//Thoughts?!?
//Advice??
//Anyone feel the same???
// Am I waxing poetic to yo misma???