Tuesday, December 4, 2012

White girl your parents

You know, "Fuck you mom!" "get out of my room!" 

This to me was astonishing. I would sit on my friend's bed watching this go down and wondering, why the hell has she not gotten slapped yet?? This would not fly in my household.

My hispanic father commands respect, (or fear, which in some cases is the same thing) with a single look. "Ivanha Alejandra! come downstairs" and that usage of my middle name has me shaking in terror. Ok, not literally, but it does cause a chill to run down my spine, take extra time to go down the stairs, each step making me closer to my impending doom. The worse is when it's just to inquire what I would like for dinner or something equally mundane. There am I wondering what I did wrong, getting ready to look at the ground, eyes fixated on a specific tile, take my punishment gracefully; for nothing.

But of course there would be no other alternative. It has never crossed my mind to talk back to my parents. The few times I ventured to respectfully disagree, things did not go well for me. I ended up profusely apologizing for my disrespect and saying something along the lines of "I was totally wrong, I don't even know, I totally deserve to be grounded forever, I should have never left that bowl of cereal in my room." 

I will never understand how my friends did it and how their parents didn't react. 

and well that's all I have to say on that topic. 

not creative todayyyyyyyyy

or ever
 pzzzz

Saturday, October 27, 2012

Before I turn 30

I love making lists. And with all this worrying about am I doing enough? and bla bla bla... I decided to make a bucket one! (actually it's just things I wanna have done before I'm 30, so I have a good 12 years to work on it...) I think everyone should make one at some point. It can be really therapeutic, and possibly depressing if you don't cross out anything, but I'm just going to use it as motivation.

Here is mine: 

1.) Skydiving (duh, doesn't everyone have this on theirs?)
2.) Learn a new language
3.) Live in Italy
4.) Travel as a backpacker
5.) Go skinny dipping (bahaha sexy)
6.) Graduate college as a journalist ... I'm starting to see these aren't really in order of priorities.. or are they? ;)
7.) Write my own column 
8.) Go Bungee jumping
9.) Run one hour without stopping (maybe let's make this 40 minutes)
10.) Be a good driver, with a stick
11.) Live within a tribe (far-fetched, but AWESOME) 
12.) Break one important rule 
13.) Get a tattoo
14.) Cook something that tastes good
15.) Play a song on the guitar
16.) Eat a brownie that has marijuana in it 

and these are my meaningful life goals! I should probably revisit this and add other things possiblyyyyyy

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Hating on the U.S measuring system :)

“Want to go for a run?,” “sure!” I answered, then I asked the simple question of how much would we run, but of course this wasn’t really a simple question. The answer was six miles, which for me has no meaning. Therefore I am faced with the task of converting to kilometers, and let me tell you, maybe it’s really simple, the difference isn’t that big... whatever. Math is not my strong suit, that means I have to go on the mighty, solution-to-everything-internet and look for a site that does it for me. Yes, I know; how lazy, how dumb, and why don’t you just use the calculator on your cellphone?  True, maybe a little, and no can do. What good is the calculator if I can’t remember the equivalence in the first place. 

Now, I ask, WHY? What the fuck is an inch? Miles? Fahrenheit? What's wrong with the perfect sense making metric system? Every other place in the world uses the same UNIVERSAL system, kilograms NOT pounds, kilometers, NOT miles... centimeters!! 

Trying to have a conversation about almost anything becomes exceedingly difficult, beads of sweat start materializing, my forehead wrinkles and my eyes shut deep in concentration as I desperately try to convert my height from 1,70 meters to feet, just so I can casually chat with a friend, or maybe fill out an application for the gym. I can’t even tell if it’s cold or not by a simple look at the weather reports or at the temperature sensor, because 40 degrees is quite hot to me, but oh wait! it’s in Fahrenheit, a whole different world in comparison to the simple and easy Celsius. So, obviously 40 degrees Fahrenheit is not shorts and a tank top weather.... 

And like this many other examples in day to day life, that make no sense at all.  Seriously, I just want to understand the reason, why use different measuring methods, and really annoying ones at that. Life could be so simple, everyone could understand each other, stripping away the hassle of conversion. That room in our brains it occupies could be free and used for other way more important and productive purposes.

Most businesses in the U.S have realized this, and utilize the metric system in order to be more productive in an economy that is increasingly becoming more globalized. Globalization is a huge part of the world today, nonetheless there is still the U.S measuring system, the only major country in the world who does not use the metric, which in my humble opinion is much more practical.  

Even the names of the units are disgusting.  The word pound makes me cringe, and don’t get me started on yards... it should just be the name of a stick, not a distance. On the other hand the names used in the great metric system are logic based. Take centimeters and meters, a centimeter, 1/100 of a meter, it’s explicit in its name. The name is explanatory! As I said before, it’s all about practicality, which obviously the U.S system lacks.  



Thursday, October 18, 2012

Presidential Debate Discussion

Sitting in class. Can't concentrate on anything. Debating on Romney's wording, but really I'm just debating internally on taking a furtive nap. Now, how would be the best way to do this? Maybe I can manage to close my eyes and sneakily nod off while holding my pen. This way it will look like I am attentively listening, waiting for that piece of indispensable information that I just can't wait to transcribe onto the page.

Gun policies. And binders full of women.

Maybe I'll let my hair down, thus creating an effective shield for my face. This barrier will provide a perfect mask for my clever ruse. Who is to say that my eyes aren't completely open with anticipation? Eager to absorb knowledge behind my beautiful, untamed locks of brownish/ other-colorish hair?

The right wing sees Obama as an angry black guy.

Wait, that sucks! Those stupid right wingers... I could just invent an illness. Get out of class now. That sounds delicious. I'm so tired I've become delirious. If I were to stay because, honestly, I'm bad at lying, I have to perfect my methods. What can I do to prevent my head from sliding off my arm once I reach that idyllic state of blissful, oblivious rest? That would probably wake me up and bring attention to my predicament... I could lean against the chair, but at the same time have my elbows on the table, while tilting my head so my hair covers my face, simultaneously holding the pen against the paper, so it doesn't slip from the grasp of my idle fingers.

Yes, I have carefully outlined a plan that looks promising. If I can master this artful form of sleep I will have in my hands an invaluable weapon.

Obama goes on the offensive.

Time to try it out......

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

So I found this somewhere in the interwebs and I couldn't resist... I had to post it!

Date a Girl who Writes

Date a girl who may never wear completely clean clothes, because of coffee stains and ink spills. She’ll have many problems with her closet space, and her laptop is never boring because there are so many words, so many worlds that she’s cluttered amidst the space. Tabs open filled with obscure and popular music. Interesting factoids about Catherine the Great, and the immortality of jellyfish. Laugh it off when she tells you that she forgot to clean her room, that her clothes are lost among the binders so it’ll take her longer to get ready, that her shoes hidden under the mountain of broken Bic pens and the refurbished laptop that she’s saved for ever since she was twelve.
Kiss her under the lamppost, when it’s raining. Tell her your definition of love.
Find a girl who writes. You’ll know that she has a sense of humor, a sense of empathy and kindness, and that she will dream up worlds, universes for you. She’s the one with the faintest of shadows underneath her eyelids, the one who smells of coffee and Coca-cola and jasmine green tea. You see that girl hunched over a notebook. That’s the writer. With her fingers occasionally smudged with charcoal, with ink that will travel onto your hands when you interlock your fingers with her’s. She will never stop, churning out adventures, of traitors and heroes. Darkness and light. Fear and love. That’s the writer. She can never resist filling a blank page with words, whatever the color of the page is.
She’s the girl reading while waiting for her coffee and tea. She’s the quiet girl with her music turned up loud (or impossibly quiet), separating the two of you by an ocean of crescendos and decrescendos as she’s thinking of the perfect words. If you take a peek at her cup, the tea or coffee’s already cold. She’s already forgotten it.
Use a pick-up line with her if she doesn’t look to busy.
If she raises her head, offer to buy her another cup of coffee. Or of tea. She’ll repay you with stories. If she closes her laptop, give her your critique of Tolstoy, and your best theories of Hannibal and the Crossing. Tell her your characters, your dreams, and ask if she gotten through her first novel.
It is hard to date a girl who writes. But be patient with her. Give her books for her birthday, pretty notebooks for Christmas and for anniversaries, moleskins and bookmarks and many, many books. Give her the gift of words, for writers are talkative people, and they are verbose in their thanks. Let her know that you’re behind her every step of the way, for the lines between fiction and reality are fluid.
She’ll give you a chance.
Don’t lie to her. She’ll understand the syntax behind your words. She’ll be disappointed by your lies, but a girl who writes will understand. She’ll understand that sometimes even the greatest heroes fail, and that happy endings take time, both in fiction and reality. She’s realistic. A girl who writes isn’t impatient; she will understand your flaws. She will cherish them, because a girl who writes will understand plot. She’ll understand that endings happen for better or for worst.
A girl who writes will not expect perfection from you. Her narratives are rich, her characters are multifaceted because of interesting flaws. She’ll understand that a good book does not have perfect characters; villains and tragic flaws are the salt of books. She’ll understand trouble, because it spices up her story. No author wants an invincible hero; the girl who writes will understand that you are only human.
Be her compatriot, be her darling, her love, her dream, her world.
If you find a girl who writes, keep her close. If you find her at two AM, typing furiously, the neon gaze of the light illuminating her furrowed forehead, place a blanket gently on her so that she does not catch a chill. Make her a pot of tea, and sit with her. You may lose her to her world for a few moments, but she will come back to you, brimming with treasure. You will believe in her every single time, the two of you illuminated only by the computer screen, but invincible in the darkness.
She is your Shahrazad. When you are afraid of the dark, she will guide you, her words turning into lanterns, turning into lights and stars and candles that will guide you through your darkest times. She’ll be the one to save you.
She’ll whisk you away on a hot air balloon, and you will be smitten with her. She’s mischievous, frisky, yet she’s quiet and when she has to kill off a lovely character, when she cries, hold her and tell her that it will be alright.
You will propose to her. Maybe on a boat in the ocean, maybe in a little cottage in the Appalachian Mountains. Maybe in New York City. Maybe Chicago. Baltimore. Maybe outside her publisher’s office. Because she’s radiant, wherever she goes. Maybe even outside of a cinema where the two of you kiss in the rain. She’ll say that it is overused and clichéd, but the glint in her eyes will tell you that she appreciates it all the same.
You will smile hard as she talks a mile a second, and your heart will skip a beat when she holds your hand and she will write stories of your lives together. She’ll hold you close and whisper secrets into your ears. She’s lovely, remember that. She’s self made and she’s brilliant. Her names for the children might be terrible, but you’ll be okay with that. A girl who writes will tell your children fantastical stories.
Because that is the best part about a girl who writes. She has imagination and she has courage, and it will be enough. She’ll save you in the oceans of her dreams, and she’ll be your catharsis and your 11:11. She’ll be your firebird and she’ll be your knight, and she’ll become your world, in the curve of her smile, in the hazel of her eye the half-dimple on her face, the words that are pouring out of her, a torrent, a wave, a crescendo - so many sensations that you will be left breathless by a girl who writes.
Maybe she’s not the best at grammar, but that is okay.
Date a girl who writes because you deserve it. She’s witty, she’s empathetic, enigmatic at times and she’s lovely. She’s got the most colorful life. She may be living in NYC or she may be living in a small cottage. Date a girl who writes because a girl who writes reads.
A girl who writes will understand reality. She’ll be infuriating at times, and maybe sometimes you will hate her. Sometimes she will hate you too. But a girl who writes understands human nature, and she will understand that you are weak. She will not leave on the Midnight Train the first moment that things go sour. She will understand that real life isn’t like a story, because while she works in stories, she lives in reality.
Date a girl who writes.
Because there is nothing better than a girl who writes.

Monday, October 15, 2012

Untitled.

I can't come up with titles so that's that.

Anyway, I haven't written a post in forever... I guess summer and lack of inspiration got in the way. But now I'm back at school and feeling like I have to do something with my life... so I'll blog.

Honestly though, am I the only one who feels outdone? outwitted outsmarted.. out everything?! People are so focused and competitive and are always busy. "Hey wanna get some coffee?" "No sorry I have 5 essays due tomorrow, my internship from 12 to 4 and then my job from 5 to 10 and then I will study for my 7854987 tests that I have this week." Meanwhile... I'm just like, "Oh yeah dude totally, actually I gotta a couple of episodes of Arrested Development I haven't gotten to yet... keeping busy ya know" So, obviously something is wrong. This nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me I'm not trying hard enough. I should be doing more, going out into the world and looking for all the opportunities that are out there for the taking. Probably. But truthfully I most likely won't. At least not yet. Especially since listening to those people just gives me a headache and makes me want to go take a nap.

However, I am writing about it instead of watching shows on my computer right now, so that's a start!... right?

In reality I'm not that lazy. I am currently employed at a store where my sole purpose is to sell a lot of TEA! You might be wondering what that has to with journalism (that is my actual major) and the answer is nothing of course. That's why I have this blog, kind of. At least now I have a cooler answer, "Hey Ivanha let's go walk around!" "Oh sorry I can't have to go to work right now" I don't have to mention it's just something I do because I'm broke and will have no impact whatsoever on my future career. I can just leave that part out. In fact I think I will leave that part out and commiserate with my fellow classmates about how busy we all are and how stressful it is that we have to start building our futures. Yes, I will do that.

Besides, How much could a banana cost? 10 dollars?



Saturday, January 7, 2012

R3lAti0nSh!pZz

Too much pride can damage a relationship. The word itself entails a mutual agreement to trust each other and a certain "certainty" exists between the parties involved of the interest of the other. It is obvious that if two people have agreed to solely be with one another any sense of pride starts to lack sense. The games have already been played, the cards laid out. Yes ok we're in love or whatever. Who texted first? Who called? Who said what? None of that matters. It's about feeling and doing what is being felt. Constant reassurance isn't needed. It is of no consequence how many times you say the words or who says them more, because no one should be keeping score. This, in my humble opinion, is no easy feat. It is hard to let go of old habits, in spite of how sure you are. I think fear plays a big role during this time. and it shouldn't. If it is true, if there is "certainty" as I mentioned before, fear shouldn't be a problem. It shouldn't exist. But yet it does. That's what it's all about, isn't it? Acting against your most prideful instincts, taking the risk...