I can't remember where it was I read that one of the key elements to writing a 'tween or young adult book was to make sure you had an awkward, relatively weird, outsider kind of protagonist. This made sense to me since teenagers, especially pre-teens, are all kinds of awkward. In fact, today we needn't think any further than Twilight and its leading lady, Bella Swan, who embodies clumsy, awkward and weird all in one package. When I was younger, I used to be drawn to these kinds of characters as well. Deenie, Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, Blubber, Ramona Quimby, Age 8, and of course, Anne of Green Gables, were all books that I adored when I was younger. I'd go to the library, check them out, read them, re-read them, take them back and repeat the process the following week all over again. I loved them because each protagonist was, in a word, weird. Since I considered myself to be weird too, reading about kids who were awkward and totally different from the norm allowed me to believe that I had a posse of like martians ready to hang out with me at any given notice. Books were my escape and my entertainment, more so than television or anything else available to me (which, let's face it, was very limited). I was constantly fighting against being different and desperately tried to be "normal" like everybody else.

When we first arrived in San Francisco, I can safely say that I didn't notice that I was different. My classmates were all different too. Some were Chinese, some were Korean, some where Russian, others Italian. I had a Mexican friend and a Filipino friend and I sat behind a red-headed boy named Billy in class who was probably of Irish-decent or something. We all attended Catholic school and as such, wore uniforms to school everyday. Because of this, no one noticed if someone had "cooler" clothes and the concept of "designer" anything just wasn't our reality due to our age and our different backgrounds. Then of course there was the ONE thing many of us had in common besides this: being the first generation "Americans" growing up in a major city. When we went home, yes, some of the kids spoke English with their parents and siblings, but many of us went home and spoke a completely different language! You'd see the influences of our parents' heritage in our packed lunches which ranged from PB&J to sushi to some kind of Chinese soup that was heavy on the cabbage. Sometimes you'd go over to a friend's house and notice the traditions there: removal of shoes before walking in, eccentric, colorful art hanging on the walls, spicy cooking and the rich smells associated with it and multi-generational households that included the grandmother and sometimes even the great-grandmother! We lived in a city so many of us took the bus to school and as is the norm living in a city, many of us lived in apartments or flats, not always houses. And you know what? Because of this, I don't recall any of my school mates and/or friends having pets.

To me, all of the above foster great memories of my childhood. I wasn't weird because we were all "weird." I wasn't any different than my Korean classmate who removed her shoes before going inside her apartment and who brought sushi for lunch. Whereas I went home and spoke Spanish with my mom and ate "lentejas" for dinner, my Chinese, Mexican and Italian friends had their own traditions and day-to-day at home that greatly differed from my own. Such was the melting pot of my early years that soon took a nasty turn to dullsville Suburbia when I turned 14. It was at this age that we left San Francisco and moved to the Peninsula, 30 minutes south of the city. With this move came a change of school and a new chapter of my life that took an eternity to shake myself out of: weirdo martian from another country chapter.

From the time I was 14 to oh, about age 28 or 29, it was a constant battle to be considered part of the crowd and "normal." I moved to Edward Scissorhands town and realized that the melting pot that had been my home for as long as I could remember, was no more. I found myself in a place, in a school, in a town, where every single person was "normal" and even those of a different ethnicity were, to the naked eye, diluted. I became self conscious of the fact that my mom didn't speak English fluently. I was anguished like only a teenager can be over the fact that we didn't live in a house like everyone else did. I didn't grow up playing soccer so I immediately signed up for AYSO soccer and made a fool of myself trying to perform with non-existent skills. At 14 I had never shaved my legs because my mom never told me about it (in Chile people wax and she grew up always waxing, something she obviously thought I would do too once I was old enough.) All of a sudden I was the brown, hairy girl who moved from SF! No I didn't have Guess jeans but realized soon enough that if I was going to be anybody at the new school, I NEEDED GUESS JEANS (is 14 too young to be sporting $80 jeans, anyone, anyone?) I didn't even know about the GAP until I moved to this said Edward Scissorhand town and apparently, by the time I hit high school, it was the only option for my wardrobe. That and Eddie Bauer's flannel shirts, what with the grunge thing in full effect.

I looked around and realized something that rang true in high school, college and some time after college as well. To be popular, interesting, solicited and listened to meant that you had to somewhat blend in and only stand out in the most traditional of ways. In high school this meant that I had to be in student government (all the cool kids were in student government.) It also meant that I had to be in drama but this only lasted through my freshman year and I gladly gave it up in lieu of the school newspaper (which incidentally, wasn't "cool" by any means.) So I ran for Student Body Secretary my senior year in high school and lost to one of my classmates who was (and continues to be) Ms. Overachiever (actually now she's Dr. Overachiever). That was a blow but thankfully, since I ran for a "big" office, I was given a pity prize and co-chaired something that had to do with school clubs (my co-chair was another popular girl, known more for her work in dance and performance arts.) I didn't wear the right clothes, didn't run with the right crowd (though GOD KNOWS it wasn't for lack of trying!), didn't play the right sports, I didn't dance or do drama (which in my high school was the epitome of cool.) I did manage to break into Honors/Advanced English (again bc all the popular kids were in that class) and ONCE even pulled off the 2nd highest grade on a term paper (the highest grade went to Dr. Overachiever, I believe.) Still, I felt I had proved something to the "right" crowd.

By the time I got to college, I'd somewhat mastered the wardrobe mess I had when I first arrived at a public school and found my own style (or lack thereof). This wasn't a major issue in college for me. The major issue was once again being the one "foreign" girl in a sea of ... politely speaking, non-foreign boys and girls. Many grew up in suburbia, had a mom and a dad (dad was always a lawyer or some corporate executive and mom was most likely a school teacher) and I just had my mom. My mom who was a nanny, a great one at that, for a very successful, very wonderful family. No, there was no dad. No we didn't take vacations to Tahoe every winter and summer. No, we've never owned an SUV. What was that? Was I going to Europe after graduating college? Um, no. I guess I could have done myself a favor and NOT gone out and join a sorority which only served to remind me how different, poor, weird, and non-mainstream I really was. Instead I DID join one, proceeded to binge drink to fit in, gain 15 pounds my first year at Davis, spend money I didn't have on monthly sorority dues and pretty much drag myself through the mud trying to "be cool" and fit in with those I considered to be cool. That's not to say or imply that people weren't NICE. They were nice, actually. It's just too bad that I was so awkward about being different that they couldn't get to know me for me. It wasn't their fault, it was mine. I assumed they thought I was weird and so I took that as fact and acted accordingly to try and fix it. The irony is that people who are NOW my good friends post-college are women who 1) weren't in a sorority or 2) are the "cool" girls I wanted to impress who are more impressed with my weirdo foreignness than whoever it is I was pretending to be in college.

Life works in the kookiest of ways, really. Post-college it was through work, my career, travel and my accomplishments in the workplace that actually helped me shed all embarrassment for being different. I was given opportunities at a relatively young age that NO ONE my age had and that made me feel like a bad ass. I ended up working for a Japanese company and getting to know a culture that was a million times removed from both my own and actually LIKING and APPRECIATING it. It dawned on me that different was funky and I liked it. It also finally dawned on me that "normal" was so boring, I could die. Yawn. It helped that I was back in San Francisco (albeit for work only) and that I could once again be reminded that the melting pot existed and that I was a fabulous part of that.

The irony is this: I'm now living in Chile and again, I'm reminded with constant lucidity of how different I am. I'm a gringa in a Chilean world. I'm weird, I'm a foreigner and I'm not "normal" (what's this about wearing open-toed shoes before October??!!! Owning a Bulldog? Not partaking in "once" and checking my blind spot when I drive?) That's ok though. This time around in life I'm fine with it. I'm actually in the process of maintaining said weirdness, working off it and finding my place in this Chilean world. I'm sorry to tell you Chile, I don't plan on playing the role I once did of fitting in. This is me, foreign and awkward, take it or leave it.

Labels: fitting in, memory lane, weird

There's something that is quite evident between Chileans who live outside of Chile, something that I too used to share with enthusiastic vigor. There is a tendency to idealize this country and recall with a deep sense of nostalgia all the memories ever created during the time spent in this narrow land. It wouldn't be fair to begin this blog immediately removing myself from this since in reality I spent the majority of my life in the exact same state of mind as those I now observe as quite nostalgic.

Growing up as "foreigners" wasn't an easy feat in the San Francisco Bay Area, especially during the early 80s when being Latin wasn't necessarily celebrated. Sure, it could have been worse (we could have been living in the middle of Kansas or Minnesota) but it took a bit before being Latin was actually celebrated. Even as I recall high school and certain "movements" by the Latino groups, this was mainly centered around Mexican-Americans, who, let's face it, far outnumbered the Chileans. As such was the case, the small close-knit group of Chileans who lived in the Bay Area had a reduced network of neighbors and peers who "got" what it meant to be Chilean and who understood firsthand all the idiosyncrasies involved with being Chilean. My thought is that the likelihood of building and sustaining nostalgia bubbles involving all things Chilean was much, much greater because the real thing was much, much farther (it's not like we could walk down the street and hit up a Chilean restaurant just like that.) Everyone who surrounded you felt the same distance, the same void, the same yearning to be closer, the same awe, the same patriotism and much, much more. The result was always the same when groups of Chileans got together: it was as if celebrating the 18th of September each and every time. Cuecas (Chile's national dance), wine, "ensalada a la chilena," a good asado produced our own little Chile no matter the occasion. - birthdays, anniversaries, marriages and even 4th of July resulted in the creation of a little Chile.

The fact that we were greatly outnumbered by Mexicans and Central Americans only perpetuated the nostalgia bubble. It was as if being the cheese that stands alone meant that it was our duty, our calling, our right, to show the world "We're Chilean, dammit! Not Mexican! We don't eat burritos!" (Actually, neither do Mexicans.) And in feeling this national pride, we tended to migrate towards others who shared like sentiments and who would join us in talking about how great Chile was or who would take the time to comment with us on the breathtaking, majestic beauty of the Andes Mountains. If we came across Chilean tourists it was if we'd been reunited with a long-lost sibling and we bombarded them with questions about "la patria" - now I realize that in acting this way, I'm sure that the visiting Chileans pretty much surrendered to the fact that Chileans who lived abroad were weirdos. We stopped at nothing, even inviting them to our homes for an "asado" because LORD KNOWS they must miss it, right? I mean, we did!

The distance between San Francisco and Santiago meant that when you took time off to vacation in Chile, you went for at least two weeks. Some people, like my mom, rarely went for less than one month. ONE MONTH of vacation, can you imagine? But people did this and no one thought anything of it. During that time, you jam packed your days traveling from north to south, to the coast and back again and made sure to visit each and every family member and friend who ever meant anything to you, even if that meant having back-to-back asados. It was great to visit, especially during summer in Chile, because the family would usually try to coordinate their vacations with yours. You can imagine the nonstop fun that resulted with a handful of people on vacation, ready to let loose, go to the beach and have themselves a whole heap of fun. You'd spend Christmas and New Year surrounded by family, enjoying the hot weather, eating, drinking, dancing and being merry. All of this was quickly compared to the cold, gray, desolate life you returned to when you went back home to the San Francisco Bay Area and of course, you quickly saw Chile as the only place in the world where you could possibly be happy.

Immediately returning from sunny, warm, family-oriented vacations, it was easy to recall the memories of a short time ago, when you were setting the table for "once" (tea time), going to the grocery store to pick out the meat for the asado in the evening, opening a bottle of red wine so that it could breathe or sitting down with a "pucho" (slang term for cigarette and no, I don't smoke) ready to discuss the latest happenings with friends or friends of friends.

I was part of all this, an active part of all this. Nothing was better than Chile. Chilean wine was better, Chilean seafood was better, the Chilean way of life, the fact that people knew how to balance work and life, the proximity you had to others, the way people knew their neighbors ... I would be in awe just standing in line at the supermarket, listening to the Chilean accents all around me. Each and every single vacation abroad was to Chile and when I returned, I'd immediately calculate when I could return again. Back home, I had an entire wall in my apartment dedicated to Chilean artisan crafts. I had a sticker on the back window of my Jetta with the Chilean flag on it. I had a notebook that I carried with me to all meetings, in SF or elsewhere, with a panoramic view of Santiago. In short, I was obsessed with my "patria" and made sure to say it loud, say it proud, every chance I had - "I'm Chilean!!!!!"

Then, I moved to Chile and began building my life here.

There are so many great things about this country, it would be unfair to say that I was completely wrong to idealize it when I lived back home. But it would also be unfair to not acknowledge that living here is considerably different than visiting. One of the first things I realized is that there really isn't a work/life balance. People work a lot and they work constantly. Vacations are usually reserved for 1-2 weeks in February and a week in August - that's it. It just so happened that when I would visit in December/January, family members would coordinate their vacations with mine. The food is good, but honestly, there is much more variety and richer tastes elsewhere - notably for me, in the U.S. Wine is amazing but then again, I miss not having the option of a California wine, New Zealand wine or Australian wine. It's just Chilean, all.the.time. Also summer here is suffocatingly hot and most of the time, you have to endure it in Santiago because an escape to the beach is 1) expensive and 2) requires reservations far in advance during the peak summer months. Also, I don't really see any difference in the way people live their lives here in that, most of the time, people go on their merry way, following the routine of their lives and rarely weaving in and out of other people's lives. In short, it's not all that neighborly as I once thought it to be. One more thing: we don't do "once." In fact, I don't even LIKE "once." There was once a time when I truly longed for it. Now I just find it utterly mundane to repeat breakfast a second time around. Finally, unfortunately enough, I take for granted the fact that my entire family is here and that, as such, I could pretty much see them more often than I ever could. If not more often, at least, much more easily than before. I'm as much of an "ingrata" (ungrateful or, in this case, absent) as everyone else in my family and because of this, we never see each other! And it's a damn shame.

When it comes to Chile and the nostalgia it promotes in Chileans who live abroad, I'm on the other side of the looking glass now. I see them and I hear them talk about Chile with a sense of longing and a sense of pride that I no longer share. I see their pictures of the September 18th celebrations that were held back home, and they enjoy it with 100% more patriotism and passion than I've seen in the two dieciochos I've spent living here. Their Chi-chi-chi, le-le-le's are louder and more heartfelt, especially compared to mine, which haven't been uttered in well over a year. When I see these people on Facebook or in person, hear them over the line or in front of me, I no longer recognize those sentiments - ones that used to define me as a person! It's like I'm looking at a picture of a great-great-great grandmother and trying desperately to find a nose-hair of resemblance.

I don't recognize myself in them, or in their sentiments anymore, and I can no longer relate.

Labels: friends, history, memory lane, move

I'm intrigued by kids, especially those with imagination and drive. This is because on the other hand, I've seen my fair share of the typical kid and his/her antics. I know it's not their fault these kids have nothing new to offer; it's mainly their parents fault and in light of that, I think the majority of parents today are really proactive about how their kids develop and how they are stimulated. It's a sign of the times, I believe.

Which is why it's no surprise that some very close family friends back home have accomplished something that I too hope to accomplish when I have children: they're raising women leaders who wish to make this world a better place.

I reject the idea that if one is a girl, that girl needs pink and needs dolls and needs cutesy this or that. Girls aren't bubbles, fragile and likely to burst if poked. Further, girls, just like boys can very well be encouraged to run, explore, climb, question, think, laugh, build, rearrange and a series of other active verbs that right now escape me but that are traditionally seen as boy behavior.

Our family friends have three girls: Kylie (11), Devon (10) and Piper (8) and these three girls think big. They started a club called Earth Savers Club for Kids about two years ago, initially with the belief "think globally, act locally," with the purpose of picking up trash around their neighborhood in Northern California. But big thinkers and doers don't just settle on the first idea that comes to mind, no matter how old or young they may be. No, they decided that to go BIG would mean reaching kids in other parts of the State, country and world and encouraging kids to pledge their commitment - however they can - to saving the Earth. Some kids pledge (via the website) to eat as much organic food as possible, others pledge to pick up garbage and recycle more, while others pledge to save the Earth by simply walking more. Um, did I mention these are KIDS making said pledges?? Rock star kids, all of them.

A local newspaper called "The Almanac" did a short report on these three girls and their hope for the future. But the real gem that lets one truly appreciate where these girls hope to go and what they hope to accomplish is the actual Earth Savers Club for Kids, a colorful, interactive website that invites kids from all over the world to join the global effort to save the Earth's natural resources. As 10-year old Devon reminds us in the article she wrote for an e-magazine, "the Earth can't be saved without kids." Call me crazy, but if I were a parent, I'd definitely use this site to encourage my kids to participate in their own way.

An epilogue to ponder ....
On a personal note, I've known these girls since they were babies. In fact, I've known Kylie since she was 4 months old and I "met" Devon and Piper days after they were each born. My mother used to be their nanny when we lived in California and we were as much a part of eachother's lives as any blood-related relatives. We've had the opportunity (and honor) to watch these girls grow up, celebrating with them, vacationing with them, sharing with them and to watch them individually become exactly who they chose to be ... They are the reason I reject the notion that girls - and women - aren't capable of excelling beyond our everyday imagination (and expectation). I've seen it first hand numerous times and in the simplest of forms, such as conversations with them or everyday play with them. In any case, I'm proud of them and of the girls they have become ... I look forward to marveling at the women they will be and I hope that one day, if I have a girl, I too can accomplish the feat of encouraging her to look around and consider how she can help make things better.

Labels: California, friends, how it should be, memory lane

I can't believe that I haven't written a single blog post about music to file under my so-called "general malaise of irrelevant topics" that "I trust you'll enjoy." To quote myself. [For those out there just itching to read about my version of Chilean life, don't worry. I have a blog brewing on my experience in Graduate studies in good ol' Chilsters due up next.]

Now, I'm not about to proclaim that I'm anywhere near being a music guru and I am certainly no Rob Gordon (John Cusack's character in "High Fidelity," which, by the way, if you haven't seen it, get off this blog and go watch it immediately. You'll thank me later.) With that disclaimer in full effect, I can attest that music has always been central to my life and many times, I find that I can remember certain periods in my life just by the music that's playing. Also, depending on the type of music, I can even remember the point in time, historically speaking, in which it was released (or at least, was popular to me.) A great example of that was Madonna's "Like a Virgin" album which was released in 1984, when I was a wee tyke of 7. I remember the MTV Music Video Awards when she did that risque song on stage. Pure art.

The first song I'd like to highlight from my past is one from ABBA. Man, did my mom LOVE that group and I can't begin to tell you HOW MANY TIMES, I heard this song:



My mom obsessed doesn't begin to cover it.

As I grew up (in the 80s, mind you), cheesy 80s love songs were released by the multitude. Elton John, Air Supply, Chicago, Stevie Wonder, Atlantic Star, Billy Ocean, Lionel Richie and many, many more flood my early 80s memories and none more so than this one:



I actually owned this cassette and played this song on repeat, just as my mom had done with ABBA. Obviously, I learned it from her. Play, Repeat.

My most significant music memories during the late 80s were related to Poison, George Micheal's "Faith" album, Madonna, Guns n' Roses, Bon Jovi ("Wanted Dead or Alive" poignantly stands out in my mind), and of course New Kids on the Block. (Don't ask me what one had to do with the other as it made perfect sense to me to like all of the above at the same time. ) The late 80s also weaved in some Paula Abdul...



...and this particular song was quite popular when I was in 7th(ish) grade because the popular radio station back then, X-100, had a DJ named "Super Snake" and as you can imagine he was in his 7th Heaven with this particular song and as such, he played it constantly. Naturally I danced to it like mad in my room and watched the video incessantly. And for all my younger peeps out there, yes, Paula had a career before American Idol even became a pilot being pitched to Fox.

Believe it or not, it was also around this time that an 8th grade friend of mine introduced me to N.W.A. and I was so moved by the sheer naughtiness of the lyrics that I immediately went out and bought myself their "Straight Outta Compton" album (on cassette, of course) and I've since then been a fan of that particular release.

Then the early 90s hit and it seems to me that his was the time when Rap and Hip & Hop were beginning to inch their way from the city streets to middle-class suburbia and beyond. Bel Biv DeVoe were immensely popular in the early 90s and as horny little 8th grade kids attending school dances, we were all about "freaking" to this song ...



and need I remind you all of this song, which came out during my 8th grade year (1990-1991)...



Yo, VIP!

As you can see, and as I recall, during this time, the good came with the bad. Boys II Men came out during this time and they made singing a Capella pretty damn awesome and not to mention, popular. But the bad came with the likes of Right Said Fred and their "I'm Too Sexy" which seemed to take the country, and definitely my high school, by storm.

But how can we even mention the early 90s without highlighting the two most important music genres to come out of that decade: Grunge / Alternative Rock and Gangster Rap. Loves and loves!

Anyone who remotely knows me, knows that I have an affinity to all things Snoop Dogg, Dr. Dre and Tupack Shakur. Frankly, with musical geniuses such as these, how can one not? As I mentioned, I had dabbled in some of Dr. Dre's earlier work with N.W.A. but his collaboration with the likes of Snoop Dogg seriously blows my rap-inclined mind.



On the other side of this coin lies the influence of grunge music on my life at the time. I can't say that I was fully anti-establishment and it's not like I threw my school work out the window and blew the joint to go out and buy Doc Martens. I was never a big fan of Alice In Chains but particularly enjoyed Soundgarden, Pearl Jam and Nirvana and did my part in wearing cut off shorts with thermals underneath, v-neck tshirts, flannel shirts and in sum, look like a total mess.

By the time I graduated high school, the gangster rap genre had evolved a bit to include the likes of Coolio...




A simple message really ... life IS too short, so love the one you've got.

College progressed, great songs were released: "A Long December" by the Counting Crows, "Love Rollercoaster" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Criminal" by Fiona Apple and of course, Dave Matthews Band became wildly popular. All of the above marked me in some way but two of the songs that stand out the most from those days in the late 90s are ones that were actually released DECADES before ...



and



And every time, these songs take me back to driving on the California roads, dancing (or grooving) in the car with my best friends, sun overhead and our hair blowing.

The remainder of college contained music from Britney Spears, Backstreet Boys, Smashmouth, Ricky Martin, Destiny's Child, TLC, Blink 182 to name just a very few that I was particular keen on. Grunge and even Alternative Rock had subsided and with the likes of Eminem, a funnier version of Gangster Rap emerged...



And from then on, I of course became a fan of the Dr. Dre protégé!

Sigh. This felt good. I like looking at snapshots in time via music that touched me in some way. There is SO MUCH MORE too! "Son of a Preacher Man" was a huge deal for us after the movie "Pulp Fiction" came out and in fact, that whole soundtrack was a must-have at our college parties. Then there's the music associated with the ex boyfriends, whether my own or that of my best friend's (we each made the other listen to music relevant to our romantic relationships.) And I feel like I hardly touched on the pop music scene that exploded with the inception of "Hit Me One More Time" by Britney Spears. But honestly, who has the time for all that? I could on and you could go on reading and we'd both get nowhere relevant to the now.

But now that I think about it ... if I was able to spark a little something in you, a memory, an "I remember that song!" exclamation of some sort ... or better yet, if I motivated you to go back and dig up some old tunes anywhere, even via You Tube, I feel immensely satisfied as I feel I've done this world some service. Again, by no means do I claim to be a musical genius and I'm quite aware that you are much more likely to have further, more elaborate insight on the music of our generation.

I hope you share it with me and others. Sharing music and living music, whatever strikes your fancy, is a-ok with me. To conclude, I'll circle back to the beginning and leave you with one last song from ABBA that really quite sums it up. At least for me.



[p.s. These You Tube videos seriously crack me up. Especially the first ABBA video with the snowman!]

Labels: memory lane, music

Earlier this week I had some time on my hands (as I was trying to avoid studying) and so I began Facebook check-in's with my friends and acquaintances. I do this every so often just to see who's had a kid, who's getting married, who's bought a house, who's sick and who's annoyed with work (and to what degree.) It's good reading and I highly suggest it, though highly recommend you stick to people you know otherwise you cross the line into weirdo territory. I digress.

Anyhoosers, as I was doing this, I came across someone who is FB friends with an ex's family member and I was immediately hauled back to memory lane recalling how God-awful that ex was and seriously took a second to THANK GOD I was no longer in that atrocious relationship.

From there (again, all in an effort to avoid studying for this upcoming exam on Saturday morning), I decided to take a moment in my happily married life and contemplate the road I walked (or crawled depending on the relationship) to get right where I am at this very second. It's good to reflect on where you've been, if only to cherish even more where you are. Another thing I highly suggest and not just with ex's but in all aspects of life.

I was always a long-term relationship kind of girl, beginning with my first boyfriend ever which I "dated" for about a year and half. I say "dated" because when you're 15-17 years old, how much of this is really, truly dating ... isn't it more like, obsessing about one another, feeling sick with insecurity and locking lips? Or is that just me? He broke up with me to date a girl from another high school and as a result, I remember being traumatized and stripped of any desire to get out of bed. That lasted about two months, as I listed to Pearl Jam's "Black" on repeat (CDs were widespread then so it was easy to just press one button and instantly hear the anthem of my broken heart.) It was that or Guns n' Roses "Don't Cry." What can I say? My 17 year old heart was shattered - and worse! It had been replaced by a girl at another high school!! I remember doing some questionable investigating to find out how they had met in the first place and I came to find out they had met at the gym. The gym! I didn't even own running shoes...

Boyfriend #2, looking back, I can now identify as a creep-o with an inferiority complex so severe, he actually chose to date me, someone 7 years his junior! I was still in high school, he was a college drop out. Need I say more? In short, looking back, the me-now can definitely identify the him-then as a Grade-A LOSER ... but the me-then didn't know that. I blame him, really. Shouldn't he have pointed out that an 18 year-old should be hanging out with other 18 year-olds? He was a nice enough guy, helped me with term papers and the like, but his antisocial antics got old AND the fact that he lived at home and didn't have a job became beyond embarrassing. We broke up after about 3 years when I finally met someone closer to my age with the same values as me (hi, work ethic anyone?) and who would actually hang out with my friends. I felt like I had struck gold!

Boyfriend #3 was fun, smart, came from a good family, and was a lovely boyfriend for the year we dated. In fact, I'm FB friends with him! He's married now and has a very cute daughter and in short, looks very happy and I'm happy FOR him. Seriously, the only bad thing I can say about that is that I liked him a lot more than I think he liked me at the time... as a result, I of course drove him away. Don't get me wrong, I think he really did like me. I just seemed to think it wasn't enough ... Which led to yet another broken heart and feelings of "What's wrong with meeeeeeeeeeee?" It wasn't him, it was me. I see that now. And because of that, I can look back and think "he was fun. I liked him. Good guy to date, glad we hit it off," walking away with no ill feelings and instead, feelings of complete neutrality. I find this to be a good thing.

After Boyfriend #3 I entered a period when I bounced around a lot, not really finding myself in anything that stable or promising. I dabbled in dating the first boyfriend ever (high school guy) again but that ended sourly and I have nothing good to say about that second time around. I did learn that it's no good to re-date someone. What's that book called? Something about being called a break-up because it's broken? Point being, don't re-date someone. Does it ever end well? I guess it can, but in my case it (thankfully) didn't. After that, I dabbled in a long distance relationship with a Chilean I met in San Francisco... he was in the Chilean navy, still is actually. He's another guy I'm friends with on FB and he too is now in a long-term relationship. Again, feelings of happiness (for him) and neutrality can best describe what I feel when I remember him.

That's the thing though. I never even remember these guys except when one thing leads me to another, as was the case the other day, and I remember something. But even that thought is so fleeting, it's like all of this happened to another person. But that's how it goes, right? The me I was back then was a less developed, less evolved version of me now.

If I have a daughter, I'll take her through all of these lessons on dating. I'll tell her that sometimes, guys look awesome on the surface ("on paper") as was the case with the first guy I made mention of at the beginning of this post (remember? I said I came across an acquaintance's FB page who is friends with a family member of his). What seemed to be, wasn't really and I got caught up with all that glittered about him. Turned out he was a lazy, unmotivated, racist (yes, racist), uber conservative little punk with delusions of grandeur (and yes, I really DO need to learn to form an opinion.) Our break up seemed detrimental at the time but looking back, all I can think is "There is a God and he's definitely looking out for me." The funny thing is that he (and his entire family) probably thinks I'm a crazy, Latina Jezebel who ended up looking for a relationships on Cragislist "Women Seeking Men" section. I'm not gonna lie. I came this close and decided against it. :o)

But I'd also tell my daughter that sometimes, really nice guys come along and you date them for an eternity of four years. I'm not sure what number this said boyfriend would be but let's just say he was Mr. All-American Nice Guy. No complaints, bad juju or ill-feelings come about in relation to him and actually, we had a great time together. He's now dating someone who is far better suited for him and honestly, I'm happy for them both. It didn't use to be like that. Sometimes one's ego gets in the way of being happy for those who deserve it but time takes care of that discrepancy in personal judgment.

The final thing that happens before finding THE ONE is this: you meet someone and you instantly click. You think, "OMG what have I been doing my whole life when this person was floating around, existing without me and I was doing the same thing! Blasphemy!" You can't conjure up anyone who is cooler, has a better story, a better career, a cuter face, better taste in music or personal style and you immediately become convinced that this is what life has been saving for you. This, right here, this guy, is your prize for all your failed relationships past.

HA!! Except that's not how it works. See, right before you meet the one, you meet the one who could-have-been or almost-was (which is VASTLY different from the one-who-got-away). This guy is the one who gives you the final reminder that a guy who is in it for the long run, in it because he's convinced you're the best thing since sliced bread, will do insurmountable things to be with you. Will climb every mountain and swim every ocean just to be near you (so to speak). Simply put, the guy who's in it to win it will follow through with some integrity. The guy who almost-was but didn't quite measure up was the guy before G and it was a fresh SLAP IN THE FACE reminder of all the sh*t women need NOT go through with the opposite sex.

That's how it goes you know. You have to be crawling on the ground, licking the floor miserable, having endured the most pathetic of showings by a guy, to realize that it's far better to be alone than with the guy who could never measure up.

So maybe some people never had to be alone in order to find themselves before THE ONE came along. We all have our own roads and this just happened to be mine. Still, I don't think I would have changed it all that much. Yeah break ups suck and there were some that were horrid for me ... where my face would be a disfigured mess in the mornings because of endless crying the night before. But it helped me learn that each time I became someone's ex-girlfriend, I was closer to becoming someone's THE ONE (or wife). I always like to say that dating was like trying jeans on for size. You have to try a million on, and endure pure frustration (some too long, some too tight, why do those look better on her than me, I have no butt, etc) before you find a good pair.

What a long strange trip it's been .... and where I am because of it, is worth its weight in gold.

Labels: G, memory lane

I was just thinking the other day how random it might seem that I'm here in Chile at all right now. A California girl in most senses of the term and I'm HERE?? Of all places, here???!! Well, there IS a story to be told of course, that involves two people, living their random lives, and randomly, coming together to realize "oh yeah, I love you!"

Obviously I'm talking about how Gonzalo and I "met" and fell in love. I say that we "met" because really, we "remet" since we were first introduced back in June 2005 during a convention in New York City (see logo below for your viewing pleasure).


He was married back then (in the typical Chilean fashion, where getting married at 25 is no big deal, and having kids at 27 is even lesser of a deal) so when we met it was all about work. In fact, I can't even recall our meeting together though I'm sure I talked about Naruto or some other brand and he talked about his company and the cool notebooks they make.
My schedule at that convention was jam packed. The reason I know is because every year at that convention my schedule is packed, so I can assume that 2005 was no different. And also I'm pretty sure I was dating someone --- let me think --- oh yeah, I was, though of course now he's an inconsequential person who was merely there to divert my attention while I waited for the man of my dreams (AKA Gonzalo) to come along.

Cut to June 2008, same convention, different year.

His reality: dating someone.
My reality: had recently been annihilated by a spineless little fraction of a man and my entire belief in the concept of love had plummeted to the depths of the Titanic in the cold Atlantic.

So perhaps I sound a little melodramatic ... but let me tell you, I was devastated and the concept of throwing about airs that I was fine and dandy, while attending to business at this said convention, left me exhausted. Though obviously that didn't stop me from partaking in the festivities of 230 Fifth one of those evenings, where I happened to run across my future fiancee.

See a pic of us having a good time at that said encounter.


But he had a gf and I was somewhere else...and though we shared a cab to our respective hotels that night (and I think we may have flirted for the first time ever) he was a pure gentleman and he dropped me off at my hotel before whisking away in NYC's yellow cab finest.

That was the first time I had seen him out of his "nerd" element. Seriously, in the work capacity I don't think anyone compared in the NERD ALERT category. And during meetings? DRY AS A BONE. I think he may have cracked had he tried to smile at any given point during a meeting. So you see? This encounter at 230 Fifth in Manhattan, though brief, was ultimately important because a saw a lighter side of him...and it was cute.

Fast forward to October 29, 2008. Bellavista. Santiago. Chile.

I was still living in CA but my mother had moved to Santiago after 28 years living in the SF Bay Area. In October she had been in Chile for a little over two months and on this particular day, it was her 60th birthday. I was in Chile on business and was going to tack on some much needed vacay time to spend with her. On October 29th a group of us went to a restaurant in the Bellavista area of Santiago to celebrate my mom's bday. One of my friends (and work associate here in Chile) who happens to also be good friends with Gonzalo, invited him to join us at my mom's dinner. Random? Perhaps. But the sentiment that evening was truly that of "the more, the merrier." Up until that point my only encounters with Gonzalo were either all about work and then that one time at the rooftop bar in NYC. That's it. And now he was on his way to have bday dinner with my mom and my sister??? Yes, slightly random but again, the mood was festive that night so it didn't dawn on me to be anti.

And of course he showed up in a manner in which I had NEVER seen him before. Mr Nerd Alert NO MORE... now replaced by Mr Jokes and Life of the Party.

Note the pics of that eventful night:


And what about this one? Look at my face!


Ahhh good times. You can tell I was taken aback by this "new" Gonzalo before me. And what of our realities at that point in time? Him - single. Me - finally getting over the ultimate annihilation from months before and ready to MOVE ON! Of course back then I had NO inclination that moving on would be with someone who lived in the other extreme corner of the globe! But that comes later ...

I was in Chile for two weeks, vacationing, as I had mentioned and seeing my mom's new life in Santiago. In that time, Gonzalo and I went out - in groups - twice. Once we went dancing... see pics here:


Or Mr Dancing Queen here:


We had a blast, but being the lady that I am, I excused myself at about 3 am and headed home..leaving him to continue dancing with friends.

We went out one more night during that trip, seen here in a pic that at present is framed in our home office (we didn't know that this would be the case when the picture was taken. Geez we hadn't even smooched at the time it was snapped!)


And then I went home to California...and there was this emptiness that went with me. I later figured out that it was because I REALLY liked him. REALLY REALLY TRULY liked him. So we did what any normal long distance couple does: we Skype'd day and night, whenever we could, we were on Skype. Skype allowed our relationship to evolve and I will forever be grateful for that little piece of technology. Daily Skype calls, phone calls, Facebook messages (and I mean LOOOOONG EMAILS via Facebook mail), emails, text messages, carrier pigeon - what have you - led to his first visit ever to SF, as seen here in this self portrait at Twin Peaks:


That trip was a good time! We made French Onion Soup from SCRATCH together! Yum!


We also had some profesh pics taken by this AWESOME photographer in Napa named Sarah Lane... TRULY amazing work... and our favorite pic of that session:


Yes, that's really us.

Ahhh memory lane. Such a sweet walk it is. :o)

That led to a quick rendezvous in Mexico where he had to go for work and heck, I figured that I might as well take advantage of the fact that he was a mere 4 hours away from me on a plane, rather than the usual 14+ it takes to get from SF to Chile. And so I flew to Mexico City for a stay that lasted only a little over 36 hours...


Well, to make a long story short... all of the above led to this:


Followed by this:




Which led to THE EVENT which you all know about due to the pics I've most likely made you view not once or twice but more like three or four times... but it's nice to remember (ooooh warm fuzzies!):


And THAT, my friends, brings us up to speed to riiiight about now.

That there, is a love story that took less than six months to unfold but which began with two people, living their own lives, who happened to meet over four years ago at a random convention in the best city in the world - NYC. Two people who, for the next few years, would go their separate ways and live their own lives, unaware of the existence (to a degree) of the other person... but where on one fateful night over four years later, in Bellavista in Santiago Chile, everything changed.

Labels: G, happy place, LDRs, memory lane