Next Year's Words

"For last year's words belong to last year's language. And next year's words await another voice."
-T.S. Eliot
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
So here's to next year's words.
Happy New Year.
xx
m

Another Year Over

As 2009 quickly approaches, I have found myself back in Europe- with my week in the states as a distant memory. Now is the time for new beginnings, new doors, and a bit of reflection now that I finally have the time.

And as for my resolutions, seeing as though it would be careless not to make any, this is what I have come up with...

Study harder, write more, spend less, appreciate the things I have, take better care of the ones I love, live less selfishly, love less fully (as if I would ever be able to do so), wash the dishes more often, be happy with what I have, stop coveting the things I don't, brush my teeth more often, drink less coffee, make my bed, organize my notebooks (i.e. one per subject as opposed to 1 per 3), buy a rug, sleep more, study Gaudi, maintain my faraway friendships, cultivate the new ones, etc, etc...

But when it really comes down to it, as I said to my friend today while seated in one of the pews in Barcelona's Cathedral- 

"I only hope that I do 2009 as well as I did 2008."

And what a great year it has been...

Time to Breathe

Finals ended a week ago yesterday and as I put down my pen and walked out of the classroom that had become my bedroom, kitchen, living room, and study- I swore I wouldn’t look at another computer screen, tap another keyboard, or form any succinct thoughts that didn’t center around food, sleep, and boarding gates for the next 21 days।

My so-called “thoughtlessness” lasted a week- a pretty good accomplishment for someone who never ceases to roll some idea or another around in her mind at any given moment.
Its been nice. However, at this point, I don’t think I could eat anymore…its 5:45 a.m. and I definitely can’t sleep anymore, and to be completely honest- I’m sick of doing nothing.

Finals were ok. I wish I could say that they were easier than I thought they would be but they weren’t. I wish I could say that I did better than I thought I did, but I did just as expected. There’s no bullshitting in quant models. Which ultimately, is ok, because I actually understand what linear programming is and what makes it different from simulation. But enough about exam time- it’s one of those unavoidable experiences that a business school student must face and surpass and if lucky, forget. I’m in the process of accomplishing the latter as we speak.

I made the last-minute decision to spend about a week in Miami after I could eat no more bocadillos and hear no more Catalan. As much as I considered taking advantage of the substantial vacation time and jetting off to an adventure in some far away land, I made the difficult decision to come home, raid my closet, hang with my fam, and sleep in my bed- which happens to be far better than the two rock-hard Ikea mattresses I like to call my sleeping space in my freezing Barcelona apartment.

It’s not all bad though. I do miss my classmates…and Gazpacho.

And being here- emailing my schoolmates and teammates and friends, wishing them happy holidays and knowing they are sitting at their computers all over the world reading their e-mails in different time-zones, I cant help but think how lucky I am to have found myself in this situation…to know, that at this current moment, I have genuine friends eating Christmas lunch in Budapest, shopping in Rome, attending football matches in England, sleeping in Columbia and Argentina, taking afternoon naps in Iran, or simply enjoying (as I am doing) the pleasures of being home with family in any country in the world from Saudi Arabia to Morocco to Canada to Mexico, Brazil and Portugal. And then there are my friends who didn’t go home- who remained in their other home, in our new home in Spain, enjoying the fact that they have finally found the time to enjoy the city we have been residents of for the past four months.

Either way- I woke up this morning wishing that I could be with my friends- my new family- in order to wish them happy holidays- and to tell them myself that “we did it”…

now enjoy.

Running To Stand Still

A friend told me the other day that my writing has lost its humor...that it has become too repetitive...too dry...too "MBA oriented." 

Clearly, he isn't an MBA student so I wouldn't expect him to understand.

Either way- I deliberately decided to make my next post a funny one. I was determined. I thought to myself- I couldn't have become that much of a bore in four months. 

I sat through my entire lunch break brainstorming, not about how to approach my quant models exam (as I should have been doing), but trying to come up with something I could write both humorous and engaging but mainly- about anything non MBA-oriented.

It wasn’t a success. I closed my laptop, defeated, and trudged to my next class. 

So here I am, seven days after my saddening conversation- with the distressing realization that maybe I have become a one-dimensional uninteresting individual after all, having not written a word about anything unrelated to the Brazilian natural gas industry (Economics final report), the segmentation and positioning of bottled water in the Spanish market (Marketing), or the break down and assessment of various income statements and balance sheets (Financial Statement Management).

Furthermore, I can't think of anything funny to write. My life, right now, is JUST NOT FUNNY...no matter what angle I look at it from.

Except, of course, the fact that I went to speak to the professor whose mid-term I failed and asked for his advice on how to approach the final...his response was- get this- 

"study harder.”

F*cking Hysterical…

Running To Stand Still.

Inflatable Armbands

When I learned to swim, I had a wicked and ruthless instructor that came to my house twice a week and pushed me into the pool along with four of my unfortunate friends.

That's how I remember it.

My mom begs to differ.

I must have been about four years old and my only recollections of these lessons are of thrashing around in the water with burning and bloodshot eyes and later, sitting on the side of the pool and coughing while chlorinated water attempted to escape my windpipe.

When the sadistic instructor was finally fired after a number of painful months, my grandpa Louie ended up teaching me to swim with his steady calm and understanding. And ten years down the road, I developed into a water-polo player, competitive swimmer, a diver and a genuine species of fish in any type of water.

This MBA is like learning to swim. ESADE is an Olympic sized pool that I got pushed into from the highest diving board while my back was turned. I have been sitting on the side- dripping wet and coughing for the past few months. Every so often, I get a breath in- just to keep me going. I don’t have a “papa Louie” here to take me under his wing and slowly show me the strokes…to relay to me the importance of kicking- of breathing- of keeping my eyes open.

Finals are approaching. It’s time to swim- and for others to sink.

We have less than two weeks to our exams and I’m left wondering where the first part of my MBA went. I barely remember the day our classes began, and the rest of the hours seemed to have meshed into one long and fatiguing instant…like the middle lengths of a 500-meter swim. They just happen- we go through the passes, the motions- and before we know it, we are at the end of the pool with our hands on the side, ready to pull ourselves out and onto dry land.

Thanksgiving was last week and I have no memory of it coming and going, save for a glimpse of a huge turkey exiting the overworked oven of a classmate and the back of a toilet bowl due to a horrendous bout of food poisoning (not the turkey.)

I hear people talking about their holiday plans- we have three weeks off- and every so often, I open up a flight search engine to begin my planning...but I am stuck. I oscillate between going home and taking the opportunity to travel. Home, in itself can be one of three cities and the latter’s possibilities are innumerable.

I’m at a loss. In so many ways.

I failed a mid-term. That was the first time in my life that I ever failed anything. I had to look at the page three times to actually grasp the sad truth that that the numbers at the top of the paper weren’t inversed. Maybe Managerial Accounting isn’t as intuitive as I had thought.

Procrastination is not for the MBA student who intends to walk away with a degree at any point. As for Spanish, I can’t stop speaking Italian. I conjugate my Spanish verbs with Italian endings and Italian verbs with Spanish endings. I didn’t know the form “Vos” existed and I still think it shouldn’t. Not to mention Catalan. I’m supposed to be practicing Spanish outside of my 7 hours a week of classes but waiters see me as a vehicle to practice their English and everyone else speaks this peculiar fusion of Vulgar Latin, Occitan, Gallo-Romance, and god-knows-what that is doing nothing but confusing me more.

I thought I would find a balance between what I know and what I don’t know- but being that it's t-minus 2 weeks to the first defining moment of the masters, I am starting to realize that the scales are more than just slightly tipped- I’m about to roll off the damn thing and onto the ground- only to be trampled by papers, exams, and fear. Not fun. Not fun at all.

I remember in the beginning, I spoke about a communal enthusiasm- or at least an understanding amongst all of us students that we were about to embark on something momentous together. Well, three months later, and there’s definitely something collective going on- but it’s more of a shared weariness. I see my classmates with their feet dragging on the ground, their paces a bit slower than the first day, their eyes a bit dimmer, and their colors a bit more pallid. As far as I can understand it, I am not the only one who feels almost completely lost.

I keep thinking to myself that I am sinking…. but then I’ve never been a sinker. I’ve always had people around me- who support me enough to know that when my head goes under, I sometimes need “floaties” (inflatable armbands...preferably pink). 

So I’m just hoping that I can learn the Spanish- No, the Catalan word for “floaties,” and make it through this horrendous realization that I’m no good what-so-ever at the numerical/methodical/statistical/logical/disciplined side of life. I’m hoping that I make it through this lap- that I can pull myself out of the pool, at the other end- and triumphantly dry myself off and walk away knowing that despite the odds- I swam.

Gazpacho and Gaudí

Clearly, I don’t have the slightest bit of free time to explore Barca. This will change, I am assured. However, this sad fact implies that the continuation of my “things I love about Barcelona” list is on hold for the time being.

Deep Breath.

This doesn’t mean that the lists have to stop. Not at all actually- only the subject matter will incur a small alteration. But I'm an MBA student- a veritable chameleon- I can attack any problem from any angle- I can do this! 

So...below is an inventory of the small pleasures- the tiniest of details that make me smile- or make my heart skip a beat in my day to day life. Because for someone like me, its always been about the small things. 

First off, I want to mention that the Christmas lights are up and alight throughout the streets of Barcelona. Christmas lights make the world a more joyous place (despite the waste of energy, light pollution, complete disregard for the fact that Thanksgiving comes first, and oh yeah- I’m a Jew. (But when has that ever stopped me from eating too much santa-shaped chocolates and buying Christmas trees?)

So, without further ado, here are the small delights I’ve come to hold dear:

-Eating tangerines in class and smelling them on my hands throughout the day (even though my laptop keyboard is perpetually sticky)

-Reading the paragraph long synopses on the left hand side of the front page of the Financial Times every morning and then pretending like I actually know what’s going on in the world

-Listening to Hotel Costes, Vol. 9 ~ Stéphane Pompougnac on my trek home from school between bus 63 and the blue metro line

-Continuing my perpetual search for a comforter cover that doesn’t have bizarre patterns or inappropriate color schemes (its been three months now)

-Walking innocently along the street, glancing up, and remaining astonished by the fact that I am standing next to one of many Gaudi buildings that tourists flock to from the world over

-Weekends in Italy

-Face bubbles on BBM (if you don’t know, don’t ask)

-Skype dates with friends I thought had forgotten me

-Overdoing the pan con tomate and Rioja with friends at Cervezeria Catalunia after 16 hour school days

-Planning extravagant weekend trips…whether they actually happen or not is irrelevant- it’s the prep (the fantasy) that counts. Isn’t it always the fantasy that matters most?

-Arriving at the bus stop as the bus is arriving (as opposed to arriving as its pulling away- which is the case 95% of the time)

-When something is presented in class and I realize I actually enjoy the subject matter. Moreover, when something is presented in class and I have an intelligible opinion I can share with my classmates

-Drinking store-bought gazpacho straight out of the carton while standing barefoot in the kitchen

-Deleting any number of the manifold “mbacareerservices” emails without reading them (although I don’t recommend this as I’ve had quite a few close calls regarding workshops and speaking events), it’s a great stress reliever. Particularly the ones with the “urgent” notification attached. Totally liberating

-Discovering hidden corners concealed within the packed hallways and floors of school between classes in which I can exist in my own world- nothing like the reality of what I am living

As a final note: Barcelona has gotten cold. They didn't mention that in the brochure!

It was practically arctic in my apartment this morning...I woke up shaking and blue. Thus, I overshot my target and showed up to school in five layers of clothing (including waffled long underwear- yes bottom and top), uggs with fur peeking out around my calves, gloves, and coat. I haven’t stopped sweating since I ran after the bus this morning. 

MBA identity

No one tells you before you do an MBA that the MBA takes the place of your life- all your interests, your pursuits, your relationships, friendships, the things that make you happy- the things that MADE ME HAPPY. This is what I’ve decided- this is my melodramatic statement for the day…

I knew what an MBA entailed- I wasn’t fooled about this- we all knew business school is no easy task. But more than the content being hard, it’s the time-consumption that’s getting to me- the sheer bulk of daily hours being legitimately stolen away from me. And then I have to remind myself- I am paying for this.

How was I supposed to shift gears? Especially when I’ve always driven an automatic. 

How am I intended to push aside- leave behind- the things that I love? And furthermore, prohibit myself from gaining new pursuits. I am an MBA student. Why does that mean that I cant be anything else? Because right now- that’s how it is. That’s who I am: an MBA student and nothing more. 

Up until this point, I have tried to secede from this identity. I’ve continued to explore my curiosities and rummage through the things that fascinate me- to a lesser degree of course- and this week, that came to a screeching halt. Reality set in and I finally grasped the fact that as good as I am at sorting through my desires and necessary battles, it’s the battles that are winning and everything else that is being extinguished. It’s a choice I didn’t think I would have to make- and a choice I didn’t intend to make. I arrived at school on Monday morning, after a weekend of “being me” and I could no longer put on the face of the student that I am- and fully appreciate every concept being presented to me in my unremitting hours of classes. How does one fight that? How does one fix that?

How do I explain what I feel I am losing? My fervor is being extinguished- I have misplaced myself. Whatever it was inside of me that I could point to and recognize as mine, is gone. I came to Barcelona to acquire new passions, give my heart to other things…I decided to do an MBA because I wanted to explore more of the unknown, to create a broader understanding of the world so I could grow to love it even more. And at this moment, I think all that is lost and I need to redefine my purpose here. 

I know I wont find happiness in career web portals and market data research. As great as this MBA thing is, as much as I am learning and growing, an excel spread sheet will never take the place of a good novel and a revered guest speaker will never take the place of a good conversation. Not for me.

I watch my fellow students- and they are finding fulfillment and satisfaction in being enveloped by this MBA- not only the full days of classes, but the group work lasting until the morning hours, the dinners with fellow students, the weekend club meetings, the mba-related festivals, events, promoted affairs. 

There are couplings of students- budding relationships between colleagues- the possibility of love, the excuse for a distraction, any number of associations for any number of purposes are unfolding before me and within this little society of ours. There are promising friendships- of which I can’t seem to understand because I don’t even have time to work on my old friendships. And both these losses make me sad. There are plenty of individuals constantly reminding me that “things” will calm down second term- that we just have to get through this part- but that’s never been how I live my life- to merely “get through” it. Because who wants that? I don’t want to have an existence that I just “get through” I want to be devoted to every moment to the degree that I attempt to hold onto it with all my might. I want my fingers to bleed from their grasp. Yet now- I’m waiting for tomorrow and the day after and the day after- but for what? The next phase? What about this phase? THIS is what I wanted…this is what I aimed for and consequently attained. And now? I’m trying to “get through” it. 

That’s not how I live my life. And therefore, I have to ask who I have become- what did this MBA do to me? 

I lost the things I knew I would lose coming here- and then I lost a few things I wasn’t prepared for. Now I’m losing myself. Something I never thought possible. And I have to ask- is it all worth it? Ultimately, I know I will “get through” it- but I’m more concerned, at this impasse, about getting through it and coming out at the other end having preserved what I came here with- in hopes of adding more substance to what I already had.