FEMALE SPORTS REPORTERS - Real Madrid/LA Galaxy @ Rose Bowl Aug 8

It may be easier for a woman to enter a traditionally male dominated profession. Soccer is the biggest sport in the world outside the U-S. The overwhelming majority of journalists who cover the men’s teams, are also men. For the last two weeks, Real Madrid C-F, one of the best teams, with the top, most expensive players like Cristiano Ronaldo, and their new coach, acclaimed Jose Mourinho, have been training at the U-C-L-A and played two friendly games here in California.

While sitting in a press conference with Mourinho, I noticed that the women were the clear minority. In the press box with all the writers at the Rose Bowl the day of the game, only eight of 55 writers were women; down on the field with the photographers and videographers, even less. Breaking into the “old boys network” can be intimidating for women who want to enter the sports reporting field as journalists. Fortunately for anyone who plans to pursue a career in reporting, one British reporter from The Sunday Times covering the Real Madrid-LA Galaxy game noticed a significantly more relaxed and friendly rapport between journalists in Los Angeles, as compared to the cutthroat competitiveness he experiences in London. Though disturbingly, he explains that female journalists in the U-K who secure key interviews are often rumored to be having relations with players.

Instead of being put off by being one of the only women present, I took the opportunity to flip it to my advantage, and turn the extra attention, into access. Never underestimate the power of a smile to disarm people. With good energy, people are more willing to share advice, experiences, good quotes, and contacts; everything one needs to enter and succeed in the field of journalism. On the field, the A-P photographer lent me one of his camera lenses so I could procure better photos, something he admits never having done before. In the mix zone, where reporters fight for post-game interviews, I was able to conduct the only interview with Pepe, one of the Real Madrid players.
Working as a sports journalist is a highly competitive field, but there is a space for women to enter and bring a new perspective and experience to reporting.

Mourinho the Mighty

At a UCLA press conference today, Real Madrid’s saving grace coach Jose Mourinho spoke about his philosophy as he joins a team of full of expectation and “specialness”. Mourinho stresses the clean slate he comes in with. “I didn’t see much of Real Madrid last season” he comments as he feels the past is exactly where it lies, in the past. Though he feels it is a gamble to come in and dramatically change how the team functions, this may be necessary after last year’s disappointing end to their season.
This is a new era for the team. Even team captain, goalkeeper Iker Casillas, in Mourinho’s opinion is just now becoming the real captain with all its responsibilities; Only now is Casillas ready for that job. He felt that having other players with leading roles like Guti and Raul did not allow for Casillas to truly reign. “He joined the team two days before. I could see it is a sign he want to be with the team,” says Mourinho of Casillas and his dedication to the squad. He does not want his captain sleeping on his success. Real Madrid has its final practice tonight at 5pm at UCLA before the game against the LA Galaxy at the Rose Bowl on Saturday evening.

TAN TAX

Yes the news in los angeles gives us all the important information. There is a new Federal Tanning Tax. It is a 10% tax when you fake-n-bake in a tanning bed. The people are outraged.

It is to raise something like $2.7 billion for health care reform. I may be biased because I have never used a tanning bed, but it makes perfect sense to me. If someone is going to put themselves purposely at higher risk of skin cancer by frying themselves in a human panini machine, and then tax money in the health care system which we are trying to universalize, will be used for them, then pay for it!

FURIA ROJA world cup 2010

I am born and raised in Los Angeles, I carry a US passport so ultimately my loyalties lie with the US National World Cup team. With that said I am also just a little obsessed with the Spanish Team. More than half the players are on the F C Barcelona team during the year, so it makes it easy to love them.

The other half of the team is from Real Madrid. I am not usually a fan but Casillas, the goalie is adorable, and Sergio Ramos is such a drama queen that he is fun to watch as he takes everything so personally.

There is so much talk about the teams potential to win this years world cup, as the European Champions. From a non-technical point of view, the reason they seem to me to have such a solid shot, is that they almost all play together during the year on club teams. Almost all. Our dear striker, El nino Fernando Torres, plays in the English Premier League.

Our boys play as a team, their cooperation is evident. All we need to win this world cup, well, is MESSI!!!!! Our back and mid field is solid. Even Barca's pretty boy Pique is bleeding all over the place taking hits for the team. But our shots aren't going in the goal. It makes me realize the Barcelona's team is mainly Catalan except our strikers. At least in my short 5 years of following the team. Ronaldihno (Brazil), Eto'o (Cameroon), Henri(France), Ibrahimovic (Sweden), Messi (Argentina).

David Villa was most recently signed to FC Barcelona, and is one of the strikers along with Torres on the Spanish team. Villa's almost-hat-trick today was sign that we may be back on track.

I'll keep watching and keep believing!

The BIKINI question

Every summer gyms use “Bikini Season” also known as “summer” to people who don’t live by the water, as a marketing ploy to register new members. Shape magazine features articles on getting a bikini-body and which shape suit suits you.

As I sit writing at a café in a small residential town in LA, a mother and her young daughter, no older than 7, walk by and a woman turns around at them, yells

“You’re fat,”

Pause.
Slowly enunciating as she aggressively continues,

“You’re a fat cow.”

The mother just stares at the woman. She checks her daughters face for a reaction. I must editorially mention that neither the mother nor the daughter is fat, not even close. The woman who accosted them was clearly suffering from some kind of (and I’m no medical expert) psychological or control issues, it was definitely more than just being mean, or bitter

Along side the shock two questions come to mind.
1. Apart from obvious health reasons, why is being called fat such a heartbreaking insult? 2. What kind of messages do we send to our children when teaching moments like these arise? As it is bikini season, after all.

I didn’t hear what the mother ended up saying to her daughter, she stayed calm, seemed taken aback to be honest, but she knew it was a crucial moment. You cannot smooth over a comment like that with a generic “She’s crazy, you’re not fat”, which is merely more putting people down for no reason, especially when the mother was probably hearing the worlds aimed at herself, and her societally accrued self-doubt and confidence issues.
If she replies, “No your not”, it can come off that she thinks fat equals bad and you don’t want to be this negative thing. There are levels of fat, of health and of consciousness, of course, but I am not referring to the health implications of obesity. I am talking about what if feels like to be marginalized and treated badly based on physical appearance. This links directly with why 8-year-old American girls are already talking about dieting. Worst-case scenario, this is when body consciousness turns into eating disorders, self-deprecating behaviors and low self-esteem.



Most importantly, how do I, as someone who has always been chubby, but also always been an athlete, and never had a balanced healthy relationship with food, try to teach healthy behaviors and associations towards food to my children, so when bikini season comes around each year, they can just put on their suits and hit the beach or pool without hesitation?

To be health conscious, but not obsessed, enjoy food, but realize its fuel and not filling voids or other unsatisfying parts of life. We cannot expect our parents to be perfect, but nor do we want all their baggage and issues stock piled in our lives as young people.

One answer seen most recently on Jamie Oliver’s new show The Food Revolution is taking seriously how much influence schools have over our children. What they eat all day, not only feeds their bodies, but their minds as well. Supplying food for energy to pay attention, but not to be hyperactive. I fully support giving schools the permission to demand healthier and natural, less processed foods in their cafeterias.

To be an example as parents, as friends, as teachers, as celebrities, is also imperative. Whatever we choose to keep in the fridge at home is what our children eat when they are home. If there is no soda, we drink water, juice, and milk. Let us be a part of raising a new generation of healthy, active, proud, young people.

FUTBOL

Soccer is still in its infancy here in America. That’s one European trend we haven’t followed suit on. In order to build a strong American team for the world cup, we need to be able to pick from the most elite pool. And though I love the American national team, and am excited for us to play in south Africa this year in the world cup, the reason that Brazil, Spain, and England, for example, have such strong teams is that young people grow up immersed in a culture where football (as it is better known in every other country in the world outside of the US) is mainstream. It’s accessible, all you need is a ball and your feet.

This time last year, when the Champions League was coming to the height of competition, I was living in Barcelona, Spain. I’ll spoil the story and for those who don’t follow soccer, Futbol Club Barcelona won every single competition for the year, a triplet of Champions League, King’s Cup (Copa del Rey) and Spanish League (La Liga).

After each round: Quarterfinals, Semifinals, big Liga games in between, the city banded together on the street, in bars, in their homes on their balconies in support of the home team. Flags draped the balconies, blue and red jerseys colored locals and tourists alike.

The night Midfielder Andres Iniesta scored in the last minute of a 0-0 game taking us into Champions League finals Barcelona's fate was sealed in history. After the game, everyone rushes to the streets. Cars are driving past honking to the rhythm of the team’s anthem, flags and horns flying out the windows. Crowds rush towards the jam that is the center of town, Plaza Catalunya, first 100.000, then 150,000, soon almost 200,000 people crowd to Canaletas the famous fountain at the top of the famous Ramblas promenade.

I squeeze my small frame in between hoards of screaming, jumping, dancing, smiling, crying, singing fans, Cule (followers) they call themselves. The air is red from all the fireworks and sparklers being legally set off. The magazine stands, metro signs, traffic lights, fountains, and lampposts are branches where perched fans call out to their fellow football lovers.

I magically find myself dead center of it all, and see no better place to experience the thrill of this win then climbing the closest lamp post at the top of La Rambla. My black satin mini dress does not stop me from hiking myself higher and higher to reach the 4 people already posted above the sea of painted, effervescent faces. I start singing the Hymno del Barca, in Catalan. Everyone claps along with me at the right moments, fists pumping in the air as we come to the end of the song, Barca Barca Baaaaarca! The adrenaline I imagine comparable to the players on the field of the 110.000 person stadium.

Now maybe I joined the bandwagon when I became a fan of one of the best club teams in the world. It is the inescapable energy of the Barca fans, the die hard “Sang Cule” (Those whose love of the team runs through the blood in their veins), and how the players are all so humble and feel the fans are the 12th player on their team, without which they cannot be Barca. How could I ever have resisted?

Definitions of Feminism

In today's LA times Opinion section Meghan Daum was talking about how Sarah Palin is calling herself a Feminist.

http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/commentary/la-oe-0520-daum-fword-20100520,0,4933552.column

I have been a self-identified Feminist for years, lucky to have been raised by strong, opinionated, caring women who taught me to respect myself as a woman and see my special place in the world, but never that I was on a different playing field than men (be it above or below).

Over the years I have come to realize this is a unique way to grow up. I want to address first Palin calling herself a Feminist, and second, how individuals define feminism.

The Palin Issue. I admit it wouldn't be the first identifying marker I would place on her. I am assuming it's all politics to just get people talking about her (all press is good press). I am a believer in people being able to identify themselves how they see themselves. To give a polarizing example, gender identification. Those in the Trans community who consider their gender fluid, or who feel they were born into the body of a different sex than they feel to be, in my opinion, should be allowed to decide for themselves how they live in their own bodies.

With Palin the abortion argument obviously arises, as she is a staunch anti-abortionist, and I staunchly pro-choice. The reason I would choose not to exclude Palin from the group of people who identify themselves as Feminists is that I would be deciding for her how she feels, or what is right for her. I cannot do that. For the same reason I am pro-choice. Each person should be able to choose what they do with their body.

However, it is hypocritical for her to call herself Feminist and say she can define it for herself if she does not want other women to decide for THEMSELVES what they do with their bodies, ie the difficult decision of abortion.


DEFINING FEMINISM FOR OURSELVES

I pose the questions...

how do you define feminism in your own life?
How do you see Feminism in the world around you?
Do societal definitions and your own match or come into conflict?
How can we rectify them?


My definition has always been seeing, treating, and experiencing the genders equally. Of course there are innate qualities born to women and men, places our bodies and brains excel, but the idea of feminism is the idea that it does not make anyone better than anyone else, or more entitled

I'm and AUNTIE... o tia si preferias

life in LA isnt quite like normal... well except being at the beach in winter thats about as normal and pumpkin pie on thanksgiving :) and I love it.

so my big sis had her first baby. a boy. i'm the youngest so i have never raised a child. babysitting yes but, this is way more involved. i actually loved someone before they were born, is that even possible? yes. and i get up at night with her most of the week, and i love it. if i don't hold him in my arms for a few days there is something missing.

so the responsibility of teaching him spanish falls on me. that works. its actually kind of selfish. this way if i always speak to him (already going to be bilingual, this will make him trilingual... and american, almost unheard of here... totally typical in europe though... jealous much...yes.) then i will also always have someone in the family to speak spanish with and i will never forget the language. its a two way street. so thats my brilliant plan with my ridiculously adorable sobrino (nephew). ps not even kidding. beyond normal baby attractiveness.

Making the Grade?

I have been tutoring, most recently math an English essay writing.

There is a serious problem

Tutoring keeps turning into therapy or parenting

Mind you A+ students are less likely to be using a tutor, these are students looking for help because they aren't making the grades. But in a one on one setting, on that supports them, geometry that never made sense or writing with figurative language clicks.
My qualm is I spend more of my class time not teaching the material but reassuring them that a bad grade doesn't mean they are worth less or that their writing isn't good, it just means their teachers are looking for something different. They lack academic confidence. It became easy for me to get an A as more and more people told me how smart I was. There was a shift. My expectations of myself changed as my grades went up and they never fell.

Maybe everything in my life turns into a therapy session (daughter of two psychologists) but maybe more young people need someone to address the various reasons they are not succeeding in school. One of my girls doesn't have a lot of friends at school, which means harder to find a study partner (I told her, just ask to study with the smartest person in the class, you will not only soon be beating her, but also probably become friends).

I could go on but the truth is I am so priviledged. My parents made time to help me with homework, wree involved in my education, had the educational background to be able to help me even as I advanced through the years. There are so many factors.

One of my 7th grade students has been in America for 4 years now and has learned English remarkable well. She struggled with using imagery in her writing. But instead of instructing her how to improve that, she was only told to do something about it. So I ask her about a scene she knows well, getting off the bus after school and the walk home in downtown LA. Her personal voice, her experience was overwhelming. She only needed to be asked what she felt like, what she heard, what it felt like before the image was thick in my mind. She is nervous and on edge when she passes an alley or when her heart rate spikes and she feels uncomfortable when men yell at her as they pass in their cars because she is two years older than the other girls in her grade she is friends with and her body shows it.

I only wish I was not told for the first time how important my voice and experiences are in my writing. That they are valid.

So that is what I tell my students. And with this realization, they become more confident in their work, their personal truths on paper, their vulnerability. And they begin to see the academic success they deserve for all the effort they put.

friends of convenience

Well let me preface this with I am back in Los Angeles. In Barcelona I avoided Starbucks at all costs, it is basically the American embassy of the city. And here I find myself having lunch in Culver City with a friend and she has no Internet at home and needed to do a sexual harassment online training course for work. So, here we are at Starbucks. First, I take issue with lunch costing almost 20 dollars these days in LA, with tip included, something I have gotten un-used to in Spain, it not being the culture. Second, I know Starbucks has (now let me pick the perfect word here… poor, bad, horrible, shitty, unfortunate coffee) sub par quality coffee considering they are a coffee shop, not a restaurant with fabulous food but not the best coffee, which is annoying but not ridiculous. I’ve gotten spoiled with delicious Spanish coffee even at the old man bars on the corner, nothing fancy just a good roast, hot when you order it not served in a paper cup, small, powerful and rich. So, I thought an espresso would be a safe bet here at Starbucks. I ordered it “for here”… what a concept. They guy comes back with my drink in a bowl made for a double latte like a good 16oz mug. And there at the bottom is my single shot of espresso. Like the sad left overs of a larger American sized coffee. The cold mug turned my sad shot into a luke warm mess. (This is besides the fact that the espresso just was not tasty. So I get it iced, he fills the bowl up to the brim with ice,

Maybe all this is silly and trivial

In fact it most definitely is, but I just find it absurd that they have become the most recognized coffee mark in the entire world and their coffee sucks. Yet it’s full in here and we had to wait for a table.

It’s just like people there are those people who are just not good friends, or just overall low quality, yet they dress up, are in the right clubs, offer to let you use their wifi and are always around so they are convenient friends and you hang out with them, even though you don’t really like them.

Brilliant marketing but it scares me because what if in our lives we settle for convenient friends, or just add enough sugar to our coffee so you cant even taste what it really is like. How do we really know what we are getting ourselves into?

Everything I'm stoked I did in spain.com and that which remains on my list.

My new website idea. Everyone does crazy ass shit in Spain, I mean this is the home of San Fermines, the running of the bulls where people dress up and volunteer to be chased by bulls down a confined corridor that has a dead curve and people get trampled and then look forward to it again the next year. Shit. When I got sick this year and had to give up my bus ticket to Pamplona, I was bummed, I was ready for the calimoxo madness. Ps calimoxo is a typical Spanish drink, mostly drank by young people which is a mix of cheap red wine and coca cola. Aka sugar. Kind of like cherry coke with a kick… the kick is in the morning when you kick your self in the ass for your raging hangover from all the sugar. And generally speaking you can only drink it on the street or corner.

1. Ride on the back of a motorcycle, like a real one, with the bartender from Nasty Mondays.
2. Get a Spanish boyfriend
3. Go on vacation with said boyfriend
4. Climb a giant light post by Canaletas at the top of La Rambla after Barca won champions league, this included wearing a mini black dress and yelling in Catalan all night…. Ps I don’t speak Catalan
5. Play Capoeira on the walkway leading up to Arc de Triomf
6. Ride bikes all over the city
7. 2 six hour bike rides, first down to El Prat with a recently unemployed stranger and second up to Costa Brava with jace, my homeboy who is way hardcore in outdoor activities.
8. Disco bowling in Costa Brava on a Saturday night
9. bleaching my precious brown locks blonde as sunshine and dressing up as Pamela Anderson for Carnival then chasing Andre Aggasi and Rafa Nadal down the street in a red Speedo and Uggs in the middle of European winter outside one of the only bars in Granollers (a small city just north of BCN) trying to save them, because I was Pam in her Baywatch days.
10. Meeting Theirry Henry at the movies (Yes I was that girl.... I have a picture)
11. getting kicked out of OttoZutz…. Who doesn’t get kicked out of Ottozutz?… and subsequentially permanently banned (when I was blond, perhaps they wont recognize me as a brunette
12. Dominate karaoke at George Payne Irish Pub every Sunday including a Freddy Mercury performance of “Under Pressure” where I climbed the stairs took the cordless microphone and sang with one leg over the railing in a back bend
13. Win a date with a Spanish guy on a new international dating show called Loose Screws BCN.
14. Discover the one and only frozen yogurt place in the city.
15. Drink hella leche merengada during the summer
16. Meet the only Catalans in Granada
17. Get invited by Steve Aoki and the bloody beetroots to their show at Apolo and pre-game backstage with them and then onstage during their show… which has inspired me to not only buy acid washed jeans like Steve Aoki's but also like electro music. It was my first and only electro concert and I didn’t know how to dance to that type of music so I went with your basic Tae-bo moves like the punch it out and spastic up and down. Trust me, it worked.
18. 2 calcotadas (calcots are a vegetable that is a hybrid of a leek and an onion that you cook on the bbq, it is this huge bbq party and the sauce you dip them in is actually the best part.
19. Drink wine out of a porron without spilling all over my face (it’s a Spanish jar with a pointed tip to pour from and you pour from a long distance and it streams into your mouth, the closets mental image I can give unfortunately is like a pee stream.
20. Take a pool raft out into the ocean to do a buoy swim with Mallory and race back for unspoken fear of sharks
21. Get paid to be at both the Formula 1 and Moto Grand Prix in the Montmelo Circuit right outside Barcelona working for the Renault Alonso and then Yamaha Rossi teams (when Valentino Rossi won that race in the last seconds of the race and went on to win the title of World Champion for his winning season bt-dub)
22. Watched more sunrises than sunsets this year.


My only two unaccomplished goals were getting to ride or party on someone's boat (which I was invited so I got close), and riding on the back of a police motorcycle but not being in trouble with the law as the reason for being on it... a lofty goal.


WHAT RANDOMLY SATISFYING ADVENTURES HAVE YOU ALL DONE?... spare no details

BIGGEST pet peeve in the world.... Wait for it.... People who are flaky

I have been blessed with an amazing family who I love so much. Yet somehow, we all suffer the same fate, flaky people in our lives.

I hate flakiness more than people's feet on my pillow (washable), touching the metro hand rails (disinfectable), people who cough or sneeze into their hands and then try to shake my hand or touch me in some way (obviously it has come to my knowledge that I am borderline germaphobe)...

The point is it is a constant battle with friends, best friends, boyfriends...

Who taught people it was ok to say you will be somewhere or do something and either just not do it, or let you know when they are already supposed to be there.... that they are not coming?

For example, in my spanish class our teacher was explaining that when making plans, using the future tense, means low probabilility of something happening. Let me highlight this example. We will see each other there at 8pm (Nos veremos alli a las 8). Sounds pretty solid as a plan, no? NOPE, use of the verb "to see" in the future means, maybe I will be there. If they say however, I see you at 4 (te veo a las 4) in present tense, which sounds really weird and is improper as far as English goes, it means they will most likely be there.

All I am saying in a lot of words is, just say I am not sure if I will be there, or I will try but it is not guaranteed, or you are not my top priority in the moment so whatever works best for me at the time.....

let's get real.... then I won't have my hopes up and feel let down. Then I can adjust my expectations.

So I ask that of... well everyone I know.

Let us all show our friends and family or whomever your loved ones are, that we respect them and that our word is worth something.

ballers, shot callers

Passeig de Gracia.

A man races past me on his bike, in a beautifully tailored navy suit. Being a business man isn't all business. When he past me I saw he had

PEGS! off his back wheel.

life lesson, can't take yourself too seriously... and lesson number two, ride bikes around the city. They don't polute, you get exercise, and you can avoid all traffic. (on the 405 in LA at 6pm I could probably rollerblade between the westside and the valley faster than a car could go.)

Tday part deuce

The Catalans already have Bon Nadal, Christmas decorations up by mid-november but I am still thinking about Thanksgiving.

In my high school French class I used to make a calendar at the beginning of every school year to mark down the days to thanksgiving and each day in french class I would tick away a day. Fat kid at heart much?

Anyway, holiday joy brings holiday stress, especially in los angeles. I'm not talking about family, my family rocks, I love holidays with them, I'm talking about gluttony. So every year on thanksgiving I go on a run or a swim in the morning. As if an hour work out makes up for eating a weeks worth of food in one night,

or does it?

So I went on my run this morning, but it's very different running around Barcelona. Living in Europe is such a stereotype of living in Europe sometimes. I just you know, pass by Sagrada Familia, the most famous Gaudi church on my way down the street, see little kids dressed up (no idea why, but I was loving it and in total approval) as a princess and Peter Pan playing over a steam drain in the street (no idea what those are actually called, the ones that you walk over and they blow up warm air) and they were loving the Marylin Monroe dress flying up effect, there are a bazillion old people, cute couples and best friends dressed to the 9s for Saturday stroll, bright red lipstick on, pearls, or with their farmers market rolly carts. There are stores that sell only candles or only light bulbs or only statuettes or only pajamas... see everything is specialty, the super market concept that one place has everything is not nearly as appetizing to them.

Like who really makes a living off a light bulbs only store? (This was a recent topic of conversation... stimulating really)

I live for all this, the super European, life on the street strolling, passing monuments, living in history kind of life. So Although I miss my American Thanksgiving tradition of Aunt Maita's stuffing and my deal with my sister not to eat pumpkin pie for the two months before Thanksgiving, what this holiday has come to mean (obviously its origins are not so beautiful or glorious... rather hideously hateful, and bloody... and stemming from the Spanish monarchy)... so what this holiday now has come to mean is being thankful. Taking time to celebrate with loved ones.

So cheers and happy Thanksgiving from Barcelona, Spain to my friends and family who are all over the world right now. I love you all.

Thanksgiving in Barcelona

I spend all year trying not to hang out with too many Americans, not that I don't love my people, but it makes it hard to speak Spanish if I am with English speakers all the time.

And then comes Thanksgiving. My all time favorite holiday. (Maybe a tie with Halloween and 4th of July) but, there is nothing like the family getting together and scarfing down as fast as possible so you can eat the maximum possible stuffing, yams, turkey cranberry sauce, mashed pototoes, maybe some salad so my mom is happy... all before the 20 minutes it takes for your stomach to tell your mouth to STOP cause your beyond full and about to explode and might have to wait a while before you can eat seconds.

That's when I say, "thank god for the dessert stomach"

My family, my older sister actually, made an interesting discovery as a child. We, humans, actually are more similar to cows than we thought. We too have two stomachs... the regular one, that we spend our whole loves hearing about, and the Dessert Stomach. This is a smaller, yet separate vacuous space that is reserved for sweets and desserts after a large meal when you feel there may be no hope left to eat more.

There we have reserved space. It somehow never gets filled from a regular meal. As my sister always says,

"There is always room for dessert"

And now you know. The Thanksgiving secret has been passed.

What if you're not in love yet?

I was told by my friend's mom that if you're not in love with your boyfriend, he's not your boyfriend, he's your friend.

I disagree, you have to start somewhere, right?

(This is going to be a lot of questions, they are not rhetorical, anyone feel free to comment and answer them.)

Is it worth being in a relationship you see as dead end for one reason or another if in the moment it fulfills something in your life?

What happened to my personal favorite metaphor as dating being like wine tasting in Napa or Santa Barbara.... you can't know if it's your favorite, even if you like it, if you haven't tried the other options. But at what point do you decide you don't need to try more options that there might always be someone else, or another flavor you come across, that you like, but right now, you have one in your hand for sure that works, that you like.

Were relationships this complicated in the 50s, when Ricky and Lucy slept in separate twin beds as tv husband and wife?

So is he a boyfriend or a friend...

Dear Henri... with an "i", I now realize I am not a blogger unless I blog

I got called out so hard tonight.

My path is a little unclear at the moment, I have my hands in a lot of different projects and ideas, one of which is getting a legit blog going, that I am proud of, to say the least.

It is hard to blog. It seemed so easy at first, just write anything.
But blogs are no longer just online journals. They have purpose and meaning, bring awareness. They motivate and inspire, they tell stories with pictures and words.

For any fashion blog followers, I went to The Sartorialist's book signing tonight right outside Barcelona. Scott has turned his blog, which is a street style photo blog, into a book, into a following,... basically living my dream he just did it first. (kudos)

Everyone was dressed straight out of Ugly Betty, more the Marc or Amanda than Hilda styles, ready to be photographed, wishing Scott would be taking photos of them, and excited to meet the man behind the camera. It is nights like tonight when I remember why I started taking film photography classes when I was in 9th grade.


This was also a networking event, these are people in and around fashion. I knew I should be working the floor, but with an amateur blog, no business cards and an unclear path to the future, how can I approach selling myself...

Enter Sara and Henri. Two people I met tonight, very kind, I would say interesting... but I now realize, I was the one talking the whole time and I barely took the time to ask them more about themselves. Is it not me looking for advice and direction with my career? They both were well into their careers.

They did everything right. Asked questions, follow ups, related to me, to where I am from, and I answered and talked (cause I do that when I am out of my element or nervous). I now realize

Shut up
listen
ask questions

talking about me taught me nothing tonight. I missed a great opportunity to find out more about people who are pursuing careers I am interested in. (If you are reading this, please get in touch with me before you go to NYC. And good luck with everything there)

LISTEN

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Quarter Life Crisis... the post-college years

The theme of my life, besides the eternal search for happiness, has been what am I going to do with my life now that I am the proud recipient of a University diploma.

Stress stress STRESS stre-esssss.... I have been living in Spain for over a year now and it has become very obvious over the year how ingrained I am with the American ideas of success career money happiness future career path the right choice the responsible choice self motivation relationships. always moving. forward.

Ask anyone who knows me, I am a pro at vacation and living a stress free life, but the idea of heading back to Los Angeles, just the mere idea of leaving behind the life I have made in Barcelona, is constantly leaving me dragging my feet.

I have this conversation with all of my friends. We all feel like we are the only ones who feel this way, but obviously its pretty wide spread.... my sister calls it.... MY EARLY TWENTIES.

Straight A student, UC Berkeley graduate... top of my class in fact, passion for Capoeira, photography, writing, reading, learning.... I was a professional student my entire life and I learned how to do my job well.

And then,
I graduated.

Where is my big fancy job? And perfect partner? Weekly lunch with my girlfriends?

University life did such great job of getting me interested and involved in so many new topics, people, activities, within my community, yet never quite taught me how to take all this raw talent and interest and refine it. How to get a job after college 101. That should be a general requirement instead of Oceans, that physical science class I needed to graduate.

I moved to San Francisco directly after college and found a job with a company that took itself way too seriously and was all about developing raw talent.....I cried from 7am to 720am Mon-Fri to my mother on the phone in LA for almost 6 months on the trolley car ride to work... Never take a job that even has the words COLD CALLING in the description.

Needless to say I peaced out for Spain.
I've been told many times that it was brave of me to move here, with no job, no ... anything.

It was probably the easiest decision of my life.

and it was time... to FIND MYSELF

My very own Eat Pray Love, less yoga, more tapas and beer.

I went from sports and academics to being a cliche English teacher (with the best students ever who I am actually obsessed with and their amazingly kind parents who semi take me in as their daughter) and international party girl working in Club party promotions with international DJs and music groups. Seeing more night than daylight gets old. Waking up at 3pm gets old.

The worst part is, people here think of me as a party girl and nothing more. And I'm afraid that is what I am becoming. Learning Spanish, reading books in Spanish, ... doing everything in another language, is a dream come true. It's an extra tinge of flare that makes every day here more exciting then in America.

But I still haven't "found myself"... who even came up with that idea? It was definitely a creation of a marketing director who was selling travels to far off places, and a book deal.

So the crisis is how to motivate when there is no external motivation here, when I have no friend to go on a run with me or go to a cafe and blog or journal or paint with me. But do I go home if I am not finished here?

How do I know when I'm finished? Everyday I choose to stay, I open the door to possibilities here, and close doors to all the possibilities in every other city in the world. To a different boyfriend, a new job, one that might even forward my "career", to meeting new friends in my home town, to learning a different language or culture or person....

After I talk to every one of my friends, and sisters, and parents, I then like to think to myself, what would some of those old men who play cricket on the grass by Arc de Triomf or on Passeig de Sant Joan... what would they tell me to do, after having seen it all. And I always come up with"

I have my whole life ahead of me to find a long term career, the perfect job (if it even exists), time to find the perfect man, time for a doctorate, for a family... stop wasting time worrying when ....

it is being YOUNG that is the only thing I can't get back later.

Post-college is not so much a crisis, it's realizing we are finally free to make our own decisions, sometimes big ones, ones that effect other people, some times small ones that just leave a momentary sweetness on your lips.

Turning 25 is a gift. My cousin died when he was 24, I could live a complete life without ever having a "serious job" but I could never live a complete life without taking the time out for me to travel, to love, to explore, to be selfish at times, to be independent of my family, to be connected with my family, to create relationships, and so

I redeclare these years, the best of my life, and I live them now, no regrets.

Cheers.

Mating and Dating, US Spain Relations

I think he thinks he's my Novio (boyfriend)..... He definitely brought up the N word last time I was with him.

The eternal single girl, pride in independence and individual decision making, may quite possibly have broken down, and started dating a guy for more than two weeks.

I've noticed that when it's a friend of a friend, someone coming with some sort of trusted recommendation, the success rate when meeting new friends or potential lovers is about 97%. Our friends know us best don't they? This isn't Mom or Bubby trying to introduce me to a nice, Jewish boy from the NY burrows.

I was at a birthday party with a bunch of Finnish, British, and Spanish folks... and for the first time probably in my life, I started talking to the shy guy.

Really any excuse to practice my Spanish skills.

Without the pillow-talk details I will say this. Over the last few weeks we have been going back and forth between Barcelona and his town about an hour south of the city. One night laying on the beach at sunset, yes I respond to cheese filled romance, I mentioned how I told a girlfriend of mine we like to make-out for a few hours at a time.... without stopping to breathe. His response:

Hasn't she ever had a boyfriend before?..... Nunca ha tenido un novio?

Excuse me ... a what....?

What does that mean?
1. Literally has she never liked a guy enough to do that?
or
2. He is my boyfriend and that's why we do that and why can't she relate?

ummm.....

I thought American guys moved quick, but they move quick in another way, very hit it and quit it. Spanish guys, let you know that they are your boyfriend, your novio, and then walk around holding your hand so everyone else knows and make it hard to date a few people at once.

What happened to dating being like the sampler platter. Just trying to figure out what we are looking for.

Us Spain relations... we may just need a little more Clinton.

4th of July in Spain

The idea of not doing the Palisades 5k in at 8am meeting outside the local library this year to start my 4th of July was almost depressing, minus the fact I didn't have to wake up at 6:30am on the 4th of July to run, which I hate doing. But there is nothing like meeting your perky friends, seeing your 3rd grade teachers, and Ben Afflect running with a stroller while touring my hometown.

This year, no Palisades, just Barcelona. It is hard to celebrate blatantly American holidays in foreign countries. But I definitely made the best of it.

I started the night before and made it home at about 6:30am when I passed by favorite bakery and the French baker was outside and asked if I wanted a fresh croissant. I dropped my bike and cried out...SIIIIII! (of course the day we celebrate independence from Britain a French guy would be my ally) We sat and had breakfast til about 7 when I went home to get a few hours of sleep in prep for what would be another 24 hours of 4th of July celebrating.

I woke up craving a greasy hamburger.

Barcelona is not known for its hamburgers so i spent a good amount of time online researching...seriously....the best burgers in the city. This is the 4th, it's no joke to me. I came up with Betty Fords al final, based on a surprisingly large supply of American bloggers who are the only legit source for this project obvi. I never made it there as my boy Suji has a roof with views of Montjuic, Tibidabo and the rest of the city...and a BBQ. We hit the boqueria for fresh patties to grill up and invited a few friends. There are so many Sweedish people in Barcelona, it is incredible how much they travel by the way... two of them graced us at our little rooftop shindig.

The perfect relaxing day, way too hot, resident dj put on tunes, we had water falls and cootercoolers, and burgers! The sun is out til 10 here so i had to force myself to leave at 830pm because Mataro is havina a music festival this week and I went to see Manu Chao with my friend Jace.

When in a foreign country put on your red white and blue and go to a show or do something to celebrate that is different. Manu Chao puts on a show! His guitarist is a straight up genuine musician. He played punk guitar, rock n roll, classic spanish guitar on an acoustic, rumba... it was non stop.

I obviously pushed my way up to the front of the crowd, which always means ditching friends and making a meeting place for after because there was a good 10,000 people there. A big outdoor space, I had actually randomly been there before not realizing when I rode my bike with Jace from Barcelona to Costa Brava and we stopped there to check out the fresh graffiti art. Comparable to that of Granada, which for anyone who has been knows that is saying a lot. Pushing to the front, my second favorite thing to do after pretending I am Spanish when I go out and meet people at night, worked out about as well as I can hear today... not well. I landed in the mosh pit, never a good idea without closed toed shoes and being so drunk you can feel yourself being trampled Pamplona style...so I gave in and took it a few feet back.

It must be amazing to look out and see and hear thousands of people singing your lyrics with you, jumping, smiling, waving their hands, dancing and enjoying your art, your creations. The moon was gorgeous, it was already after midnight when he even went on and he went til 3am. That is how they roll here....concerts at the Staples center in LA end by midnight. Here, there was another act starting at 3am after Manu chao.

The best part is when this guy gets on stage and starts "grooving" with him. I am calling it that cause he had some old school dance moves. Anyway, the cops let him dance a little then come on stage to kick the guy off and Manu Chao straight up puts his guitar in the way of the cop and tells the cop to get of the stage and let the guy to do his thing.

Look who is in charge tonight. FOURTH OF JUUUU --- LY

Baller night. Too bad the bus, that arrived at 4am to take us back to BCN got over taken by the people, someone pryed open the back door and about 75 people packed in and only one person had paid and and entire bus was full. Bus driver panic. uh uh...you have to pay. You can not do that. Yeah try getting a bunch of Catalans to get off the bus when you are but one small man.

Duh call the cops. It took an hour to get everyone off the bus, three cops, the front door was jammed.... drama drama we left an hour later for what should have been a 20 minute ride to Barcelona. The reality is.... I pushed my way to the front and got on as one of the first and never left the bus... and made friends with all the crazies squeezed in.

Great, Epic 4th