Las vacacciones

No te preocupes porfa- todavía estoy aquí y no he te olvidado. Bienvenidos a las vacacciones de Navidad~ No tengo nada q hacer (salvo mis horas de servicio, matame) y entonces puedo dar más de mi tiempo a escribir. Y buscar trabajo. Y leer. Y generalmente organizar mi vida por fin. Es loca que hace un año fuimos en Esp. para Navidad. O como pasa el tiempo...

obviously

Boys cannot be changed. Like all girls I always learn that the hard way.

PUKE

I should not be concerned about my writing abilities. I am so pissed off at Stephenie Meyers (ps who spells their name like that?) Twilight not only is a bunch of fluff and insubstantial bullshit, it's also poorly written. And Ms. Meyers is definitely rakin' in the muns. Everyone and their mother is going to see that godforsaken movie this weekend... and it is the SECOND one of the series for God's sake. Puke. The only reason I read it (well, them) last year is because those books were the only thing in English I could find. Also, like everyone else on earth that reads this shit, I was just waiting for them to do it, or at least kiss. Hate. them.

This weekend is the last home game. I guess I am kind of sad, but in light of the fact that I skipped out on an entire football season, I am not terribly torn up. I will be back next year for a game, I just won't have to stand the entire time. Don't get me wrong, I love being a student here and being in the student section but in a way I am ready to move on. I got a class ring. Now probably my most prized possession, especially because the gem is zircon, the kind Dad has. Keepin' it in the fam. So excited to go home for break.

annoy

I am so sick of the technological revolution. I feel like one of those old grandmas who is frustrated with her giant land line phone and cursing all new technology. Or like some older IT person who is losing his job to some punk who blogs too much and builds robots. I definitely will be that person. Only now the differences, I feel, are so much bigger among different generations of kids because the tech is changing so fast. I will lose my job some day to one of those 9-year olds with a Blackberry. I don't even know how to answer a Blackberry.

This stems from my frustration in staying at the office an extra hour and a half to upload the online version of the paper. I so lament the decline of print journalism. What will you wrap your fish and chips in if we go totally paperless?

Bones and dogs

Notre Dame. You know I love you and you will be in my heart forever. But I have a serious bone to pick with you. Let's start of first of all just with the fact that you can't teach an old dog new tricks. And I am no young pup. I am 22, aka one year older than the legal drinking age. Why you gotta go giving me 30 hours of community service plus alcohol class... for the second time?? You're nuts. Guess what. Game day means people drink. How about focus on those nutcases cursing around small children or spraying beer on innocent bystanders? I was just minding my own business. Your antics will not teach me anything. Obviously I will not do that again but not because of you. Being removed from a game just sucks. I learned that on my own. Also, a $10 parking ticket for crossing the line? Are you serious? I park in that very spot like every other day. Get a life and stop gouging me of my precious dollas.

Second of all. I just want to say, as put so eloquently by my roommates sister's boyfriend (what), please just let the children play. It's neither appropriate nor legal (wait, is it?) to pull over a cab and breathalize all its innocent passengers. It's not nice to discriminate against people in the stadium just because they are dressed completely in gold. We only have four years at this fine place. Let the children play. It makes me sad to see those cutthroat students pissing their college life away in some research basement. I would rather see people being asked to tone it down a bit. Call me irresponsible or whatever (even though I have gotten much more on top of my game than before) but do what the Spanish do. APROVECHAR.

Third of all. This does not have to do with Notre Dame. This goes out to boys. Man up. I think I know how to put you in your place if not. At least Weezy knows. I really do miss MJ also.

Greatest City Ever Cultivated

Found this on a friend's status and it's so true.

I grew up where.....
- You hate Penn High School sports
- You hate being stuck behind a Michigan driver because they can't drive
- You go to the Niles Haunted House
- You know that its impossible to drive anywhere near Notre Dame du...ring ND Football games
- You remember ice skating at Howard Park then going to Barnaby's
- You remember when Scottsdale Mall was shut down...and you still don't care.
- You drive the whole 45 min from SB to Lake Michigan just for the best burgers at REDAMAKS!!!
- You go to UP mall just to walk around even when you have no money..because there is nothing better to do in South Bend
- You always yell at people when they call pop, "soda"
- The second it hits the 45-degree mark in late February, you’re doing the shorts and flip-flops again
- You didn't think IU was worth anything except for partying. (even though it was rated the 3rd best music college)...and then you got mad when you found out they're making it harder to get into
- You go to Hacienda just for the chips, salsa and ranch dip.

nadir

A mess. A competent mess, though. A mess who is still a good daughter and good friend. A mess who cares and who is loyal. A mess nonetheless. Feeling like shit.

currency

h8 it

over again

NOW what is there to talk about? My biggest fear is that I too will become someone whom people find predictable. My heart sinks when I think of people like that, and how fun they used to be. I don't think there is anything wrong with restlessness. Isn't forever long enough to be boring?

why do I bother coming to the lib

ps a word to all "studiers" here at club Ted: plz don't make out in the table in front of me it is distracting and gross

still swimmin'

Vowing to be a little more diligent with this.

Dad was here last weekend (MSU.) It's funny how here we identify weekends by who we played. Regardless, we won and it was so nice to have Dad here. He took me and Ellen and some friends to Barnaby's after the game and he took me to get my class ring Sunday, which we won't tell Mom apparently. I got a really pretty omicron jewel in mine— just like Dad's. I like the idea of keeping it family. I feel so well taken care of whenever the parents are here. For instance PJP filled up my gas tank, which is so nice.

I feel like everything I do these days, however, is in some attempt to prove to them I can take care of myself. They know I can and I will totally when the time is right, though, which is more than evident in the way they have gone about raising me and my sisters. I talk to them about once every two weeks, if that. I think my mom thinks it's weird if I call. She assumes something is wrong. My dad expected me to have moved in and assembled all that damn furniture in my room by myself. Is that weird to look back on? I am 22. I want to assume I am pretty independent. Maybe they just like babying me and Ellen when they can because it's so seldom. Like how Mom cleans my bathroom at home or puts my clothes in the dryer or makes sure there's plenty of coffee in the morning.

Then again come to think of it, she has never made my bed, cleaned my room, done my laundry or known what homework I have. Neither has Dad. Have they forever been preparing me for being on my own? Because now I think it's going to be a pretty easy transition now, no matter where I am. I still don't want to rely on their help with getting there— wherever "there" is. That is still an annoying question to deal with. What am I supposed to tell people when I don't know the answer myself? I need more time.

Another thing. I am slowly getting back into the swing of life here that I had forgotten since Spain. I think I kind of turned Spanish since being there— at least with their whole nonchalant tude. Nothing is a big deal anymore. Which is a great thing and kind of a bad thing, like when it comes to things like deadlines. It does me a lot of good to be stressed out and nervous some of the time I think it whips me back into shape. But it leaves me (and the ten other people with whom I live) in this perpetual state of sick, exhausted and surreal weird state.

sentiment

I don't feel unlike someone has placed my head upon a t-ball stand and is taking consecutive powerful swings. Overload. Such a change of pace from this past year in Europe, when comically little was expected of me. Now I am being pulled in 23423 different directions. Guess I'm just not used to it. And I still can't get myself to the point I was at freshman year, for instance, when I was so absorbed in everything completely and unfortunately. Now I can def still be sure to make time with the roommates to do mindless shit like watch Gossip Girl and make fun of Momence.

This past weekend Ana, Dad's cousin, told me I am like her, the kind of person who needs to see instant results to feel any kind of satisfaction in what I do. This makes me realize why I decided that this summer's internship at ILP was definitely not the kind of thing for me— because I felt useless. But this weekend I found out that one of the grants I had applied for with Bank of American was approved! Not a huge amount but when it's a nonprofit whose annual budget is like 200 grand every little bit counts. I feel like I actually did something tangible for them. Any future in nonprofits? nooo gracias still

Home sweet Marion

I went home this weekend, as in down 700 mi to Charlotte. It's like I had never left. Weird, maybe because it's only been three weeks. Anyways. It was terribly hard to tear both me and my sister away from the prospect of Saturday, when my friends would be renting an RV to go to Ann Arbor for the game. Poor us. Back home for a wedding, of all things. I don't know what the pissiness was all about. I just was bummed about missing a weekend. It was so nice to see all of the family, especially the Schrade kids who are the best in the world. Krysta was the flower girl in B's wedding and took about 3 years getting down the aisle, as she insisted on handing a rose bud to every person on the end of each row, of which I was one [sweet.] I amazingly didn't stutter any of the words of the First Reading, nor did I trip down the altar stairs in my red heels. Overall a great success. I turned into waterworks of course when I saw B's face as he looked at Megan. I haven't seen anyone so completely crazily in love in a while and it got me. I kept seeing that skinny tan cousin of mine who would wreak havoc on Isle of Palms with me when we were little. Now he's all grown up.

A good time was had by all at the reception, especially when I convinced the DJ that playing Ruben Blades would make the Ecuadorian women lose their minds. The damper on the occasion was the game which apparently we fudged up. I guess I am glad I didn't go then. But now it's nice to be back here, sitting at my crappy little desk working away at my homework once again. But only after I had to, obviously, spend hours catching up with everyone about the mad drama that went on this weekend, again. Welcome back to Marion.

This week is going to suck suck suck. Aside from the newspaper owning my soul and the added pressure of careers (did you really have to make a fair to remind me?) there of course are obligatory random meetings and another impending game weekend. And Dad coming this weekend. He was not too pleased with my body art. I'm on thin ice again it looks like. "Oops."

dsfn3r9

I cannot decide if I hate sleeping or I am just really bad at it. We got out of the office tonight at a record 12:45. Plenty of time to finish the paper. Which I did. Then looked at facebook pictures from Spain for two hours. I want to go back to Europe.

Please remind me to schedule my wedding on an extremely significant NCSU football game.

xoxo

Better than Christmas morning

My Inside Column from Friday's paper:

For my first Inside Column in over a year and a half, I would hate to make mine cliché and just reminisce about my college experience and how awesome football season is. Sorry. I read those and so will you.

Since I was in Spain last year and only had the opportunity to watch one Notre Dame football game total (thanks Lisa), I think I am easily more excited for Saturday than any year I have ever gone to Notre Dame football games. Which have been a lot.

I used to live in South Bend, and in grade school, my mom and dad would tote my two sisters and me to family tailgates every home game Saturday. From there they would force us to go around with our little box of candy bars to sell to all the over-served and overly enthusiastic ND fans.

This was the annual Candy Sale, the creative fundraising effort of my dear old Saint Joseph Grade School on Hill Street. Who could resist mediocre, overpriced candy from a sweet-faced kid in a school uniform? While I hated selling the candy and probably decided at that point on I would never be a marketing major, I did love the excitement of football Saturday and deep down vowed to never leave it completely.

High school rolled around and those Saturdays did not change, but now I was ditching my parents and rolling into tailgates with my friends after biking from our Wayne Street houses. After sipping Diet Cokes for a few hours with family and friends we would bike back and resume everyday life.

Notre Dame to me then was then still my comfortable background playground, but the prospect of actually belonging there did not really cross my mind. I thought of Notre Dame as a place for overachieving, out-of-state kids. I crossed it off my list.

And then, after a cross-country move and a change of heart, came freshman year. Suddenly I felt just like I did as a third grader, when everything was big, intimidating and exciting. As the games went on the novelty of it all faded only a little, and then suddenly I was gone and only hearing about football game three days after the fact, from people’s Facebook stati or from my frustrated dad.

To be back here again this year brings me back to those SJGS days. Everything to me now is big and foreign again. The novelty is back, but with the privilege of sitting in the senior section.

Keep the novelty alive. Study abroad and buy candy from a grade school kid. Go Irish.

Insomnia

Really I can't sleep until like 4 or later. What is this? Did my laundry. And my roommate's. Then my nails and cleaned the room. Resumed work and will keep reading until I fall asleep.

I went to the dining hall tonight with my sister. It was terrifying and crowded and people are constantly hassling you and running around frantically. Not going back there anytime soon. Was I one of those little frantics?

It's good now because I have zero form of routine whatsoever, besides the class schedule I am unfortunately stuck with. Everyday should be different, I think, because it can be so easy to get comfortable with a norm. Which easily translates to monotony. But in my case, I used to flip out if that norm was in any way altered in my day-to-day. I would "mix it up" by going a different route to class. Great about being out of the bubble.

Seniority rules

It seems like just yesterday I too was one of those babyfaced 90 lb freshmen. I remember I called my parents crying approximately four hours after they dropped me off, begging them to come back and get me— all in light of Frosh-O activities, which led me to believe Notre Dame was the lamest place in the world. Freshmen year was over in like four minutes, as was sophomore year. Junior year was an overwhelmingly surreal blend of travel, siesta and sangria and boom here I am back to reality. Well, not exactly. Our house is two people away from a brothel, and I think that so far it's lived up to its expectations.

It's really weird though because none of me feels any older or by any means have any more answers than I did when I was that freshman. A hefty number of books have been read on my part since then. Hundreds of pages have been written. Thousands of miles have been traveled, but do I feel any more ready for that daunting thing they call reality? Unless the next nine months do something to dramatically make me more mature I don't think I will be any more ready. Now I just look at all the kids running around campus with their laniards around their necks, introducing themselves to anyone who passes, carrying campus maps and trying to get into the bars with their jank fake ids. Not annoyed at all. I wish I were there again actually.

Went to Annie's for dinner tonight with Ellen. I am so lucky to have basically another mom so close. And I love South Bend still. Thanks to all the loyal reader(s?) esp those who loyally remind me to update.

What to do when your head is abt to explode

Would someone beam me to South Bend immediately if not sooner. I love love love home but sometimes feel like a kid who is too tall for their little race car bed and my feet stick out on the end. Growing up and growing out. As my mother's mother always used to say, healthy birds fly.

Ninety and Sunny

Always in Chi I would, starting Monday, count down the days until Friday. Now everyday is Friday when you're unemployed. That's a word that scares the crap out of me, especially with the impending horror that is graduation. I feel no further ready for the real world than I was when I was 15. What if what I get out there, ready to fend for myself and do something good, I don't go anywhere? What if I am just a little girl still clueless and fumbling? Most of the questions I had going into college go unanswered yet. I just have this huge fear of being in this exact same place, on my comfy bed in my parents house in August with no obligations, next year, jobless. Why in the world am I worrying about this right now.

Beach tomorrow for a week. Much needed reading catch up time and of course quality time with the Peralta clan. Bliss= beach, book and a beer, says my cousin eloquently. Then I cannot wait to get to school. So much happens.

A few notes:

I think my parents love the dogs more than me and my sisters.
Had a dream someone stole my drivers license. I flipped out only fearing that I would have to take my passport to bars.
What is the public radio station like in Austin?
I wish I were either going to Coldplay or in Chi going to Lolla tonight.

and the livin's easy

Back in Charlotte. I have been under a lot of pressure and faced with daily responsibilities the bog me down- like walking the puppies and putting the dishes in the dishwasher (4got abt the luxury of home appliances like that) and depositing checks and stuff of the sort. Not to mention the arduous tasks I must get done before going to school. Like shopping and doing my nails and working out and watching reruns of Entourage. I have recently been most stressed abt outtanning my sisters and cousins.

OK so the living is pretty easy down here, once again. I am trying to soak it all in before the whirlwind of senior year in just a few weeks. I forgot what [real] classes are like. What it might be like to do more than, say, 3 hours of homework per week. I am excited though in a nerdy way. I fear I might be one of those awkward returnees who gets lost on the way to class, forgets words and whom people ask if they transferred because it's been so long.

People down here on a day to day basis are definitely not as quirky as those whom I met in Chi.

F***book is kind of like a mundane and non-famous version of People magizine.

Read it&weep

Bienvenidos.

I have been here in Chicago (and Cicero) for the past 8 weeks, interning for a non-profit organization called the Interfaith Leadership Project. The experience has been a surreal mix of rewarding, challenging and difficult-- only because I have really begun questioning some of the beliefs I have long held about tough issues like immigration, which is something on the table everyday at work. When I came here Gammy specifically told me to be careful and to do help people but only legally. Duh, I thought at first. But having been here I am realizing more and more what she means. She's an immigrant too so of course understands the plight of people dropping their lives in another country to come here. On the other hand, she is the most anti-illegal immigration person ever. I am starting to feel here that sometimes we are catering to immigrants, bending the rules to accomodate. I thought I was all about the agenda here initially but stepping back, I have realized the race card is pulled out all too liberally sometimes. Everyone gets towed in Chicago. Tons of people get foreclosed on their homes, no matter where they are from. People are poor, white, black, Mexican, whatever. Trying to create drama where there is none is a damn shame.

I don't feel badly questioning some of this, but at the same time it definitely prevents me from becoming fulling empassioned in this cause. All I know is that I could never work for a non-profit professionally because I guess I don't feel screwed over by the system enough. And I don't see enough concrete progress in the work here. I know that comes with a territory of non-profits, of course, not being able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I guess I just like to see evidence firsthand that something is getting done.

"Yuppies out of Pilsen" was a sign I read on the way back from the gym the other day. I laughed at first but then thought about how incredibly ridiculous that statement is. The neighborhood is up and coming. That's a nice way to put it. Other people see it as the ghetto. Up and coming, though, refers it is on its way up. Progress is good. Ipso facto, gentrification is progress. People taking pride in their buildings. Cleaner streets. Less crime. Unless we want to pull the race card again. Would I be one of the "yuppies" to whom the sign refers? The white hippies riding their bikes to work also? I thought we took pride in a diverse community, folks.

MLIA

I lost something when I came back to the United States and was not able to everyday publish online what was going through my mind. I soon realized, however, that it seems like everyone is blogging. Blog. To me it sounds more like someone burping or some kind of technical acronym. When someone blogs, he or she assumes that his or her life is interesting enough to publish. Moreover, he or she assumes that people care enough to log in and read it. I cannot really think of a more self-indulgent activity. At the same time, I find myself drawn back.

When I was in Spain, I felt like my everyday life was definitely worth sharing. Now that I am back here, however, I feel like my life is average [MLIA]— my craziest day-to-day experiences are the freaks on the el or the creepy man selling elotes on the corner. I cannot hop a train and go to Madrid for the night. We do not stay out until 7 am. Apparently MLIA was already taken as a site name.

The only reason I continue to write is because I still find myself outraged and entertained by the everyday life here and now. I like feedback on what I have said in these things. And the name references the nickname my little sister gave me when she was two. So maybe I am submitting to all of those yuppie stereotypes and truisms but whatevs. xoxo