Because I Want To

Lately, I've been thinking about selfishness a lot. My whole life I have been told that being selfish is bad, it's a negative virtue, it's not one of the Fruits of the Spirit and frankly, it just sounds bad. However, I am slowly coming to the realization that selfishness, in moderation, is actually really good; I'm even making a point to be a little more selfish everyday. Because I have spent an awful lot of my life making sure that I am not a selfish person, and every time I do something a little bit self-centered, I justify the hell out of it. It happens everyday, someone asks me why I don't eat certain things, or go out more, or why I dye my hair or wear makeup and I justify it with some socially acceptable response but most of the time, it's just because I want to (or don't want to) do those things.
.


But there is nothing wrong with doing things for me, I deserve a little more self attention than I have been giving myself. Maybe I'm confusing self love for self centered, but either way, the point is pretty much the same. I don't really love myself, and as a result, my self, suffers. A lot.

So, all that being said, I've embarked on a little self loving mission. I'm spending a little bit more time everyday doing things that make me happy and that make me feel good. I'm going out of my way to help me, and I'm trying to spend less energy on explaining myself. More and more I answer the question "why?" with "because I want to..." and less with some form of explanation that the questioner will like. By default, I find myself being more honest and more comfortable with that honesty. I'm not saying that I've stopped helping the little old ladies across the street, or that I don't say yes when someone asks a favor. I'm a saying that I am making time for me and doing things for me which are things I never really have done before, much less been happy about them. I am not selfish for wanting better that what I have right now.

xxx

Fish Out Of Water

I don't know if it has to do with the fact that I've binged watched some particularly traumatic Grey's Anatomy episodes today, or if because all I want is cold weather and a pint of Guinness, but today is the kind of day that makes me miss London. I'm sure most, if not all, of you will be in agreement that I've done it to myself but when it's a 100 degrees outside and all you have is watery, sad, gluten-free beer, a girl gets a little desperate. I'm sure you've all gathered, due to my basic need to post about it every-freaking-where, that one year ago to the day I moved to London. That being said, I've spent my day in one of the most exquisite form of self torture. I Skyped my old flatmate, listened to Sam Smith on repeat, daydreamed about biscuits( I attempted to have tea but it's way too hot for hot tea), and even regained my mutilated, half there/ half not there British accent. So I'm not really sure of where today's blog post is going, or what direction it may take, but I can promise you that there will be nostalgia, slight narcissism, and a wanderlust that is verging on pathetic.
One year ago I was on a plane somewhere across the Atlantic, but that's not exciting so I'm going to skip ahead. Or around, whichever. I think that for most words and colloquialisms, their definitions are relative. For example, when I hear the words, "out of my element" do you know what imagery comes to the front of my mind? It's an image of my parents waving to me from a taxi cab outside my flat, it's me standing there in the rain with two suitcases that weigh at least as much as I do. That's what I define as "out of one's element" or "fish out of water". Frankly I never pictured or defined those phrases as having a happy definition, I mean a fish out of water is a dead fish so you can understand why. But the moments when I most felt like an outsider in my life, turned out to be some of my favorite moments, like when people stare because of your accent, or when you leave the house without an umbrella because, well, you're from California. Or the times when you call Maltesers, Whoppers and everyone thinks you're insane. Or when people ask how you managed to lose all five fingertips on one hand, in presumably, one go, or when they ask how you can be 21 years old and so utterly, God-awful at video games. I think it's those moments that define who you are, I think that it's when you don't fit in that counts. I happen to like who I am when I am a fish out of water, because when I'm in the water I get caught up in a hundred different currents that push and pull until you drown in them. I guess what I'm saying is be out of your element, be a fish out of water. Well, no actually, don't be a fish out of water because then you're a dead fish. But maybe be a fish out of water for a little while, just long enough to leave you gasping a bit, until you flip flop your way into a new and exciting part of the water.
P.S. I think I may have overused that metaphor...oh well, just keep swimming friends!

Wonderland

I rediscovered a blog entry that I wrote in December 2014 and never published. Better late than never right?

After an unexpectedly thought provoking conversation with a friend recently I've decided to make this blog post about the best parts and biggest lessons of living abroad thus far. Care to join me down the rabbit's hole?...

Number 1:
(Frankly it's the only one you really need)...Living abroad is one massive, kick you when you're down, throw you up on cloud 9, rock n' roll adventure. Nuff said right? As if living on your own, out from the shelter of your parent's wings isn't difficult enough, some of us crazy souls decide to do it abroad. In which case the chaos becomes la demence and our demented ideas have to be translated into a different language. Our normal diet gets pushed aside in a frantic endeavor to fit in or to be brave and try that terrifying dish, and your skepticism on public transport gets shunted aside because Mr. Budget is an obnoxious, rude bastard who takes precedence in everything. Yet, despite all that, you can't help but grin because here you stand on your own two feet, poorer than ever, but not giving two shits because you can't help but feel like a shining beacon of independence. Even if you're the only one to notice.

Number 2:
You find yourself, often in the most bizarre, unexpected places and times. And yes I mean that in the cheesy way of "finding who your true self is...". Hush, I'm going somewhere with this. Nothing is newer to me and more foreign in this country than myself. Every single day I learn something new about myself, and it's kind of exciting. Most of the times it's incredibly ill-timed and awkward,(stumbling out of the tube and landing gracefully on your knees and realizing that you officially are as clumsy as you've been told) to getting lost and ending up in Southeast rather than West London and consequently realizing that you actually can find your way home without your parents. Other times it's a little more unpleasant (Me? Staring at you? Oh no no Ridiculously Attractive Person With An Accent to Die For, I was just really intrigued by the utterly blank wall behind you. No really) those are the moments when you realize that your social skills absolutely need more work. Then there are the moments when you sit alone in your flat and read out loud to yourself in a British accent and thus start laughing hysterically, at yourself and you realize that there's something kind of wonderful about finding your sense of humor. So what if it's a bit immature, dry and twisted? It's yours and you are not obligated to appease to everyone's personal taste in humor. If you can laugh at yourself, you're doing alright. There are the moments when you realize that not everything you do reflects who you are but sometimes how you react, shows who you aren't. There are a thousand and half moments more but we can pick those apart later.

Number 3:
Life is a continuum of moments. Awkward moments, sad moments, funny moments, inappropriate moments, drunk moments, and heartbreaking moments. I believe life is meant to be lived in these moments, as they come and as they go.

Number 4:
This isn't just for living abroad but it needs to be said. Pants, just aren't always necessary.

Number 5:
I think this the most important thing I've ever learned, so if you get anything at all from this sporadic writing, let it be this: the world is actually ten thousand times more vast than you think. It's also ten thousand times bigger than that. It's just freaking huge. Your safety net might actually be a cage that's holding you back, and your sense of responsibility might just be a crutch to keep you safe and secure. Living here in London has Rocked. My. World. It's grabbed me by my ankles and Hulk smashed me around like Loki in The Avengers and I am ever so glad it has and I can't wait for the next time around. It's as though all of a sudden I get that, comparatively, America is tiny. My world was tiny, and still is pretty small, but each time I test that safety net and break through my comfort zone, my worldview get's a little bigger. So screw the net, take a leap and do something daring, or outrageous, or unexpected. I guarantee you won't regret it for a moment.
xxx

An American-Londoner in America

You know, I sorta thought writing this blog might encourage me to break away from the rather sporadic and annual entries I always made in my journal. It appears I have a lot of catching up to do, seeing as it was December when I last wrote, let's start there.

So. December. Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza, New Year's Eve and all that. My December rocked, three of my best friends came from California to visit me in London and we had such an amazing time! I loved getting to play tour guide and show them around the city, to all my favorite landmarks, restaurants, and parks. It's so cool how you can not see people for nearly five months and then suddenly they're in your living room drinking tea with you and it's like nothing at all has changed. You laugh, joke and poke fun at each other like you've done a thousand times before, never mind that it's been months since you all hung out. We spent so much time having a wander around the city; museums, parks, and pubs were our bread and butter, and then there was the Harry Potter Warner Bros. Studio Tour...*WARNING-SEVERE NERDING AHEAD* Yes, yes I know you're all jealous of this particular adventure and you should be, because it was spectacular. It took the lot of us around two to two and a half hours to get from Ealing to Watford but it was worth every second. The tour starts off with an introduction to the whole thing( blah blah show me the Great Hall already!!!) and then you are lead through the giant, wooden doors of the Great Hall just like eleven year old you always dreamed you would be. Inside the Great Hall(let me just point out that if you don't know what the Great Hall is- then go watch the Harry Potter series you Muggle) are long tables filled with delicious looking fake food and a myriad of props surround said tables. There are outfits worn by characters and massive Christmas trees with painstakingly detailed ornaments and baubles covering them. After this experience we were led into my favorite part of the tour: a ginormous room filled with basically every prop, set, backdrop, and cool nick-knack you could possible fathom, along with a little blurb about some of the main crew members. There were the directors and producers, script supervisors, costume design and makeup design, which was particularly awesome to see. You could also see the sets for the Burrow, Gryffindor Common Room, the Potions class room, Ministry of Magic and many more. We could also see the special effects used to make the broomsticks fly and  to make ordinary objects appear to move on their own as if by magic. It was so cool to see the amount of detail and creativity behind the most minute of props. After this was a cafe where I tasted Butterbeer for the first time, and it was delicious, like liquid butterscotch. Next was a series of outdoor sets and props such at the Hogwarts Bridge and number 4 Privet Drive, along with Hagrid's motorbike and others. This portion of the tour probably would have been more enjoyable had we not all been freezing our arses off in the winter wind. As the tour winds down we were led through the more technical aspects of the "behind-the-scenes", here we saw the animatronics, prosthetics, and aqua-tronics used to create the many creatures found in the world of Harry Potter. Finally we got to see a model of Hogwarts school recreated down to the last detail. All in all the tour was awesome and it awakened the little kid in me, who, let's be honest, didn't need much help being awoken.
*END SEVERE NERDING*
We also got to see The Lion King in South Bank which was remarkable and ingenious. The transition from cartoon movie to the stage was flawless, epic and so colorful. The talent was incredible, the singing, acting, makeup and set design all stood out to me as particularly extraordinary. It was so much fun having  my best friends there to explore and experience the city with me.

Once school started again we had six weeks left until graduation, in the first two weeks we delved into more advanced casualty, exploring broken noses, medical casualty, extreme weather, as well as more detailed character makeup. I loved these two weeks, not only because the learning material was fascinating and challenging, but because our tutor Amanda is so talented and she taught me so much I never knew. The next four weeks were dedicated to advanced fashion, where we spent a solid week learning different techniques for a smokey-eye and spent a whole day practicing winged eyeliner and refraining from pulling our hair out, and don't even get me started on lip day. In the last week we had a professional photo-shoot with professional models and photographer. This was terrifying at first, as we practiced in the days leading up to the shoot but when we got there I was pleasantly surprised to find it a relatively relaxed and laid back atmosphere. I was so pleased to be there working on my gorgeous model Alice and I am so happy with the results.

Then, quite suddenly, the last day of class was there and then we were graduated and school was over and I found myself facing the dreadful prospect of trans-Atlantic moving all over again. After a stressful yet fun week of packing and saying goodbyes and embracing the ambiance of London before leaving, I was all of a sudden driving to the airport and realizing that I was leaving behind the place that had captured my soul. And so, with a heart heavier than my over-sized extra suitcase I boarded a plane and spent nine hours with my neighbors elbow in my ribs. After that, my befuddled and sleep deprived brain managed its way through customs and on to my connecting flight with fifteen minutes to spare, and then I woke up in Sacramento to a small-town, sleepy airport and my darling parents. It's funny, having not seen them in person for so long, the second I did see them, my brain kind of said, " Right, so that's Mom, and that's Dad, and what was so unusual about this again...?" and then I had to adjust a bit.

And so, after a week of said adjusting, on many levels, here I am, pretty much adapted to the Pacific Time Zone and driving on the right side of the road, being 21, hearing American accents everywhere I go. Actually that last one still throws me off. I do seem to have difficulty shaking the British terminology however, seeing as I still go to the "toilet", order "chips", and my greeting of "morning" still has a very muted r-sound. But whatever, I think after six months abroad I have the liberty of speaking however I bloody want to. I have to admit however, that it's been really strange having moved back to Chico. I almost feel like I've forgotten how to function without the Underground and my trusty Oyster card. I miss the smell of fresh chips and cigarette smoke as I waited for the bus. I miss complaining about the cold and wearing at least two pairs of socks no matter what. I miss Primrose Hill, street food, the men on the Northern Line, I miss my church and I miss walking through the city and reveling in the strangeness of it all. I miss my flatmate Stef, I miss our lazy nights, our clumsy moments of falling down any flight of stairs nearby. I feel so lazy driving everywhere, and I can feel myself getting to comfortable here, there's no surprises, nothing to keep me on my toes. I'm sure there will be at some point, something will come take me by surprise but for now I feel so...stuck. I'm sure it will go away once I get working more and a busier tone to my life, but don't ever let anyone tell you the return trip is easy. But don't let anyone convince you it's not worth the trip either.

At any rate, I think that's you lot all caught up, hopefully my writing will be a bit more frequent, but I wouldn't hold your breath for it.
All the love my friends
xx