True Life: I'm a DJ

So, with the free will that this blog permits, I'm gonna oblige myself and do a lil shameless and bragadocious self-promoting.  I'm not usually one to be a spotlight"whore" but tonight I think I'm kind of a badass, to be frank.  The thing is---- is that I'm a radio star.  Maybe you didn't know that about me.  At least I like to think that I am... although really only like 2 people listen, but tonight I am playing frakking awesome music and am stoked to be sharing my love of beatz and tunez with those clicking in to my show.  Famous, my friends, famous.  Haha!  Not at all acutally, but I dream, I dream...

Being completely honest though, doing this show (every Tuesday, 8-10 Chile time.. tune in peeps!!) is always one of my favorite parts of the monotonous week of blahness.  I always leave on such a high, and the two hours FLY.  Never feel like I can fit enough songs in the short span.  Dance.  Grin.  Sing along.  How can that not be awesome??  For yours truly it's quite the release.  Hard to have a bad day on air.

So, taking a gander, I'm assuming that this is the feeling that you're supposed to have when you're "working but not working."  Can't say I get this sensation in the office.  No way Josè.  Yeck.  The only other time I am blessed with this time-flying, no-concept-whatsoever of the hour is when I sit and paint.  Could do it for 9 hours and have no idea that 45 minutes have slipped through my brushes.  Clueless.  Something to aspire towards in a career related perspective for sure.  Can I be a DJ-ing artist?? Not likely, unless I'm in the market of vagabonding.  But-- I'm gonna take a sip from my fleeting half full glass and presume that somehow I'll find the path that leads to this sort of hourless bliss. 

But for now, I'll delight you peeps with the playlist from this evening's show.  I can't help but say it rules.  Enjoy-

Metric - Collect Call
Matt & Kim - Good Ol' Fashion Nightmare
Interpol- All Fired up
Au Revoir Simone - Anywhere You Looked
Lykke Li - Breaking it Up
Of Montreal - Bunny Ain't No Kind of Rider
Matt & Kim - Cutdown
Regina Spektor - Dance Anthem of the 80s
Animal Collective - Derek
Wolf Parade - Disco Sheets
Arctic Monkeys - Do Me a Favor
Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Down Boy
The New Pornographers - The Fake Headlines
Matt & Kim - Ginders
Wolf Parade - Grounds for Divorce
Tapes n' Tapes - The Iliad
New Young Pony Club - Jerk Me
The Dodos - Longform
Fleet Foxes - Quiet Houses
Metric - Satellite Mind
The Unicorns - Sea Ghost
Of Montreal - Sink in the Seine
Wolf Parade - Soldier's Grin
TV on the Radio - Stork and Owl
Shocking Pinks - This Aching Deal
Pixies - Vamos
Yeah Yeah Yeahs - y Control

And, as a special request... One eskimO - Kandi

The After Shock- Thoughts and Reflections

I have been meaning to write this blog for about a week or 2 now. Some how it kept slipping away from me. Not because I'm not up to analyzing and facing catastrophic and jarring events; to be frank, it takes time to reflect. And get real folks, it's not like I'm facing a deficit of spare hours these days but you gotta catch my drift when I say that it's been something easy and convenient to put off. Reliving and reminiscing about a tragedy is not ringin´my bell. --- Especially after the three, THREE, aftershocks (7.2, 6.7, 6.0 mf's) that rocked my office, and re-jolted those memories of the night of the 27th right into plain, unobstructed and tear-inducing leg-quivering consciousness. Because, from my frame of reference and life experience with EQ's, every time the earth moves, there's gonna be a 8.8 Richter- sized explosion. Not sure if I can ever "get used" to the temblores. And, people, plz stop cooing "tranquila" to me for Christ's sake.

Essentially, I have run the complete gamut of human emotions in one week-- profound sorrow, a fear for my life, heartache, pride, anger, helplessness, empowerment... No wonder I could barely concentrate enough to put on socks. Never have I felt so zombie-like even after the world's sloppiest night of binge drinking. I simply could not function. Paralyzed with a heart wrenching tembl-over.

Getting to work on Monday the 1st, I was literally SHOCKED at how cavalier everyone was acting. Like, yeah, something kinda strange happened over the weekend but it was like no biggie. So some of the roof fell down. So there are cracks in the walls all over the place. NBD bitches. Well, yours truly on the other hand-- emo wreck. Emo frakking wrek. Could barely speak. As a result, I started to get hella pissed at all my peeps for being so blah-nonchalant about it. COME ON PEOPLE GIVE A SHIT. It was the classic: "oh- yeah that sucks but nothing happened to me, so it doesn't affect my life." Sparked quite the rage in my guata. Here I am the rando gringa-- heartbroken, sob-prone, and devastated for this country and these people, and my coworkers who are, um, actually Chilean are acting SO NORMAL. Cue freak-out. It didn't compute.

But- come Friday, the country was awash in ways to help, cuentas corrientes in which to donate money, groups of students building techos para Chile, the country mobilizing itself to repair all damage in 48 hours. "Chile Ayuda Chile" the campaign was dubbed and, people, Chile really did help Chile. It was amazing how the whole country simultaneously opened their wallets, sacked their pantries and flooded volunteer centers. Together with some amigos, we pooled together a modest fund of $$, bought food and supplies for 10 family boxes, tossed 'em in the camioneta and valiantly drove to the campo-- we were gonna save the day. Riding in on our 4-wheeled white horse, it was almost impossible to pass through the streets because SO many people had congregated to bring supplies, rebuild homes, and fork over their weekend. Bypassing the masses, we drove around looking eagerly to dispense our little boxes made-with-care to families in dire straits. We were totally box-blocked, though, and found that of all the homes we went to, ZERO families took us up on our offer. They denied, with overwhelming kindness and gratitude, our goods, stating that they really weren't in need. Shockingly enough, no one took advantage of us. I couldn't believe it. Despite all the unnecessary looting in Concepción and the cultural undercurrent of stealing and entitlement, we were shied away and told to give to those facing true desperation. Consequently, after a day of literally driving around in circles (how cranky was I to be honest), we packed the truck bed with more than what we'd arrived with, and brought all the goodies to a house in Santiago, to a family taking everything to the Isla Juan Fernández (Robinson Crusoe Island.. read link, amazing story)-- hit horrifically by a raging tsunami. So, after a day of what felt like doing nothing, we finally we able to do something.

Not to mention the fact that, during the last minute Telethon, the goal of raising a quick $15million USD was more than DOUBLED. More than doubled people. Amazing. I was so surprised by these donors because on a day-to-day basis Santiaguinos can be seriously unpleasant. Walking down the street, in supermarkets, etc- if your walking in anonymity, you have the Chilean free reign to be an absolute asshole. Cue the Santiago-stink-eye. I've seen countless old peeps get pushed outta the way on the metro, people cutting you in line left & right, violent fights for absolutely no reason, and let's not forget about the nastygrosssickeningflaite "men" piropo-ing the women like we're carne... Por eso, I was so surprised at the instantaneous solidarity. Which made me think: what if Chileans (slash people in general) were like this all the time?? What if this spirit of service, one-worldedness, selflessness hung around long after the rubble is trucked away and normality restored?? How cool would that be?? Improbable but something to consider.

Anyway, hopefully this will be my last EQ related post. Hopefully things will return to semi-normality (hmm, country wide power outage this evening isn't a good sign) and we can rebuild, repair, restore the South, those who lost everything, those who need new homes. There is so much work to be done, but if the airs of the Teleton blow away the pre-EQ smog, I think we'll be as good as new in no time. Fuerza Chile...

The Earth Parts, II

We left off on the corner of Antonio Varas and Providencia. The cupulo of the Cathedral strewn to pieces, shattered as if a dismayed wrecking ball had snuck up upon it and smashed its bells into silence. Oh my god... Now, if this were any normal moment, there's no chance in hell a person could stand in the middle of Avenida Providencia and survive- it is one of the busiest thoroughfares in Santiago, a loud mess of cars, buses, drumb-bangers, prostitutes (at night, and of course, on my street corner), motorcycles, etc. But that night, this particular night the earth parted, there were what seemed to be hundreds of people wandering, shocked, scared, dazed in the middle of the street. Cars were halted, everyone gaping at the fallen idol-- my first sign of the gravity of what had shaken us.

But we have to keep moving. How are we going to get home?? For those of you who are interested in cartographic evidence, this is the distance we transversed in our attempt to get from A to B ASAP. It was not a short (or pleasant) walk (in sand filled ballet flats). Essentially from the metro Manuel Montt to the Estadio Nacional. Totally different comunas. What would normally be about a half an hour bus ride. We walked. Walked so fast. Did not stop. Slowed down, yes, attempting to overhear the news on various portable radios. Yes, to rubber-neck at damaged homes, buildings, restaurants, walls. Damaged people.

Nothing physical, no, but people of all ages-- most in pajamas, sitting, standing, pacing on the lawn of their apartment buildings, shaken, battered by what had just occurred. Grandmas, babies, mothers with children in their arms. Fear in everyone's eyes. Concern and uncertainty emanating from every face we hurriedly passed. At one point, I hear someone running behind us. Usually, on a normal non-quaked evening, that spells danger. Someone is going to rob you. Run up behind you and grab your purse. That was probably the most asustada I felt all night. Nearly broke poor LL's hand/wrist/arm. But the young guy sprinted past us, didn't look back. The robberies hadn't yet begun...

For the sizable distance, we arrived in (personal estimation) about 45 minutes to LL's house as the sun was forcing its first rays upon us-- lifting up the comforting curtain of darkness and ocular oblivion. Without the sun, the cracks and breaks are less noticeable...

LL tears open the gate, opens the front door and immediate starts yelling his brother's name. Tom and I stand, tired, exhausted. His yells start to get more and more desperate as he begins to realize that his brother is no where to be found. Yelling, running through every room in the house- LL is panicked. We begin to notice that the insides of the home appear as if it has been robbed. Furniture displaced. Drawers opened, dishes fallen, broken. LL's brother appears... walks unphased through the front gate. Poor kid was alone sleeping, the EQ stuck, and subsequently left the house to check damage. But was OK. Walk to the upstairs bathroom-- everything on the floor. A million little nail polish bottles strewn about the tiles-- a rare sight in what is usually a freakishly tidy house (in comparison to mine).

Turn on the TV. The destruction floods our eyes. The information, facts are overwhelming. It was almost 6 in the morning. Had to sleep. Exhausted.

Wake up often. Wake up to the news. Wake up to the worry of what my parents must be thinking. Wake up to more tremors that leave me nearly in tears, rushing out of the bed and downstairs-- where I come to see LL's pool half empty. Backyard tsunami.

Sleep, contact family, sleep. Eventually we get Chinese food. I eventually go to my house. I knew it would be a mess only because I have open shelves in the kitchen. Sure enough all the bottles fell, creating a stinky explosion that, after seeing various images of the damage in the south, I was more than happy to clean.

The rest of the weekend, and week for that matter, was a blur. I felt like a zombie. I semi-forced LL into staying with me at my apartment because I was still so scared of the aftershakes that haven't stopped rattling the Region Metropolitana and surrounding areas.

Basically- we were so lucky. So f-ing lucky. People lost their lives, their homes, cars, their family. Some people in the southern regions that were more strongly affected are still without water, light, or communication. Entire communities have disappeared. If the only thing I lost were condiments and part of my sanity, I'll go ahead and count my lucky stars. We were so lucky. So, so lucky.

Stay tuned, yet again, for part III-- reflections, thoughts, etc... There'll be no shortage, that's fo sure.

27.2.2010-- The Earth Parts.

I should have written about it before, before the looting started, before the Teleton was hurried into action, before I could let it sink into my heart, my mind, what will forever be etched into my memory. But I couldn't. I just couldn't. I found myself being forced to talk about it with everyone (understandable) which left an already shallow depth of words nearly nonexistent. Evaporated. Drained. And now after yet another, after another, after another aftershock (temblor) I feel somewhat ready to put into words the night of the 27th, the night the days got shorter, the night I have felt more fear than ever in my life, the night I was so lucky.

(If you didn't already know that there was a devastating 8.8 magnitude earthquake in Chile this last week, please stop reading and crawl back into your ignorant hole.)

It was a totally normal night. LL came and picked me up from work, we lounged around his house, and eventually around 11:30 we pull ourselves together, hop in the car-- probably the first time ever LL hasn't driven us to our get-together destination-- chauffeured by LL's younger brother, and head for a friend's apartment. Buy pisco and coke (a-cola) on the way there. Everything is so fucking normal. Looking back, so, so normal. We sit around the table- drink, converse, eat pizza (another first, believe it or not). A Chilean replica of GU. We lament that our good friend Tom is, after a 2 year run in Chile, is going back to Canada-- which is, in fact, the reason we're all together in the first place. Despedida.

Why don't we play Cacho?? Bueno... Well, I never learned how to play- not because I was interrupted by the earth parting, but it seemed entirely too complicated and why don't you have 5 people explaining a million rules to you at once in Spanish and see if you understand... Needless to say I pulled a NNansen and was 100% zoned out of the game. Usually I atleast try and play... Ni cagando esta vez. Start drifting off into a pisco induced siesta... In and out of sleep. Try to not be the loser sleeping on the couch while everyone was having fun. Fail. Zzz.

3:34AM: I didn't even feel the beginning tremors. I didn't feel them... Just was awoken out of my dreamy-half-awake state to LL and everyone in panic. He grabbed me and we huddled under the door frame (earthquake lesson #1). It became unbearable. The apartment building, I was sure, was going to collapse into a pile of dust. It was shaking the way a house made of jell-o would move. So easily unhinging. The walls began cracking, things falling off the shelves. GO GO GET OUT, GET OUT, RUN. Trying to dash down the stairs as they are moving violently underneath us. Just get out. Get. Out. Out before the building collapses upon us. How we got out safely is still beyond my comprehension...

Run out onto the street as a motorcycle falls over, as the bricks from the walls begin crumbling along side us. The trees and plants are shaking as if there is a hurricane. In the street we aren't safe-- the telephone polls appear to be tumbling, the cables snap. Are they going to fall on us? WHERE DO WE GO?

8.8 richter. 3 minutes. 7th strongest earthquake ever recorded. 700-800 times more powerful than the earthquake in Haiti that stole nearly 230,000 lives. Most terrifying event of my life. Shaking standing in the street, the power is out. For the first time, the Santiago sky bears unabashedly its stars. Car alarms blare in all directions. Time stands still. Grip LL, grip and don't let go. Trembling. On the verge of tears but paralyzed. Paralyzed.

But we have to go. Get home to LL's brother who is home alone. Alone-- not something I can fathom. JC drops us off on the corner and as we turn the first sight we encounter is the entire top of the Iglesia de la Divina Providencia (2 metro stops from where I live)-- an emblem of the Comuna de Providencia, fallen into the middle of the street. Crashed to the ground.

Its mangled wood, bricks, moldings lay strewn in the street, on the sidewalk as a massive pile of traffic and onlookers converged, with mouths agape. Silent. Golpeado.

...The walk home and following events are another story in themselves which will I will post tomorrow or the day after. Honestly, it's too hard to write in one post. It's almost been a week and it still brings me to tears. A reparar mi corazon voy yo......

(stay tuned for part II)

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.

----------------------------------------
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???