The World Today

I sit down and I write about my life- my world. I ramble on and on about daily episodes, transient sentiments, long-ago memories and future uncertainties.  Occasionally, I touch on something “valid” that strikes a chord with a reader here, or a reader there- and then realize, again, that it’s the small stuff that connects us- i.e. a new song, the photo of a foreign city or a clever quote. Hence, I continue to write about my woes, about the good times and about the stupid bits and pieces that really don't matter in the grand scheme of things.

But recently, more frequently than not, global catastrophes are taking place and I choose not to write about them. This doesn't mean I am not thinking about them- the honest answer (and excuse) is that I just feel so helpless, so powerless- and I suppose that even mentioning the current international misfortunes and tragedies would be a waste of everyone’s time. Nothing I could say would shed light on the situation- or create any comfort for those suffering. It’s all being covered…and will go down in history books- to be studied by future generations of scientists and sociologists, anthropologists and geographers. But what about us- here and now? How are we supposed to take this?

I seem to be overwhelmed by bad news, fears and sorrow. I sit down to write about my latest adventure and all I think about is how selfish I am. How can I be enjoying myself when the planet is falling apart? In the apt words of Stephen Tyler, “There’s something wrong with the world today, and I don't know what it is.”

When various birds and fish started suddenly dying- and multiple countries began publishing puzzling statistics- the nihilists were arriving in droves with Armageddon premonitions, and I continued to write about cooking pumpkins. When an earthquake hit China last April, I made a reading list. When the volcano erupted in Iceland I wrote about socks. And when the capital city of Haiti was struck by a 7.0 earthquake, I droned on and on about falafel, cheese and in-flight magazines. Maybe I was doing the right thing, maybe not. One certainty is that the world will go on, it always goes on- humanity always recovers.

At night, I lay awake in bed, with images of that day’s newscasts scrolling through my mind- wondering about Japan- the death tolls, the devastation, the nuclear reactors and associated risks. And yes, Japan will recover too. But what about the unborn babies who will come into world from the bellies mothers exposed to the radiation? And the children who waited, in vain, for their parents to pick them up from school, not knowing whether they will ever see them again? What about the innumerable families whose homes were swallowed by the waves of the tsunami?

Then, of course, there’s the lingering question: what’s next? Because it will happen again- and we don't know when, and we don't know where- whether it will be right here, or next door, or so far away that it seems like a nightmare that we will wake up from.

On the other hand, and on the other side of the world (although only a few short kilometers from Italy)- there is a war. Operation Odyssey Dawn. Civilians have perished at the hands of their own leader, casualties are rising, and the words “installations, bombings, forces, targets, sieges and so on” are making more appearances in the news than they have since Iraq eight years ago. Gheddafi is promising “a long, drawn-out war with no limits” and I’m writing articles about marketing and researching natural dog biscuit manufacturers.

I don't know if the world is a scarier place than it was 100,200,1000 years ago- or if the information age merely gives us what it has promised to- information. And here I am, trying to figure out what to do with this influx of data and knowledge. How am I supposed to react? And more importantly, should I be doing more? I wish there existed a handbook to tell me the appropriate reaction to diverse situations. But alas, there is no instruction manual, and there is no guidebook on how to save a world that seems to be imploding on itself.

So I guess I must answer with what I find most suitable in this situation. I watch the news, I write, I contact my friends in Northern Africa and Japan to make sure they are OK, and I promise myself that This Too Shall Pass just as all the other wars have passed and cities have been rebuilt. And I hope that the scars- mental and physical- will one day heal. I hope that future generations we will be better prepared to deal with environmental disasters. And I keep thinking to myself that all those insipid beauty queens had a point as they stood on stage, lights glaring in their faces, spreading their phony dreams of “world peace” as the rest of the world lauged. But the world isn’t laughing now. No one is laughing now. There’s something wrong with the world today…

 

And a New One Just Begun

I was wondering…how does one welcome a new year with enthusiasm when the old year was already so good?

Truth is- I would have been perfectly content sticking to 2010. The arrival of 2011 means that I am less than a month away from hitting 30…an age I was planning on avoiding…

2011 means that I graduated from my MBA “last year”- not “this year”- soooo…..no more excuses.

2011 means that if the Mayans were right- this is it. Our final year. Our last remaining chance to do everything we told ourselves we would. And even if the Mayans were wrong- the New Year means we are all (me…you…them) one year closer to the inescapable finality of our time on this earth.

I have never been good at making resolutions- and even worse at keeping them. I.e. Eat less- sleep more. Bitch less- write more. Spend less- smile more.

Truth is- whatever resolutions I would have made- had I bothered to make any- would have been the general rules I attempt to live by on a daily basis.  (And usually come up a bit short).

But enough of my unconstructive ranting. As with every dark cloud- there promises to be a silver lining. Therefore, my resolution this year will be…(drum roll please)… to seek the light out from the dark- to live within the silver lining- you know, glass half-full kind of thing.

Instead of moaning about the Christmas lights coming down and the dumpsters full of half dead pine trees- I’m perusing the stores, making a check list of all the goodies I plan on buying when the sales start in 3 days. And yes, I may be getting older- but I am convinced that I am also wiser. Plus- although the New Year means that I have no more time to fit anything into last year- I am told that we all get a clean slate- that we are absolved of our past transgressions and indulgences- saints and sinners alike- and everyone in between…

Other than that, the transition from one year into the next means what it always inevitably does- a chance to celebrate.

Being that my life, currently- is pretty much a infinite holiday- one big, fun stimulating feast of extravagance and excess…it was a bit hard for me to allocate too much importance to New Year’s Eve. But it seems that everyone else around me insisted- so in normal Italian New Year’s fashion- I attended a fabulous party with fabulous people at a fabulous locale- I ate too much, drank in excess, danced just enough, had my new years kiss and managed to not burn any body parts with sparklers. And due to the horrible man walking around with a bottle of Sambuca- pouring that syrupy sweetness down the throats of innocent party-goers (including myself)-I spent the following day ringing in the New Year comatose on the couch- nursing a hangover and begging Dudy not to pee on the floor until I had the energy to get up and take him outside.

Now that the festivities have officially come to an end- and I have finished complaining- I can only hope that 2011 brings me as much excitement, happiness and pleasure as did 2010.

Happy New Year! And may all your resolutions come true…

Chapters

Ok, so I took a little hiatus- but don't get me wrong, just because the MBA is over- “I Bet Elephants Taste Like Mushrooms” lives on. I began the blog before the MBA and although I never aimed to be labeled an “MBA blogger,” my writing took its natural course and I did, in fact, become the ESADE MBA blogger- or one of them at least.

Now, however- and to my own chagrin- I am no longer an ESADE MBA student. I am not a student at all…I am unemployed. It’s quite a fine line, actually, between playing an active role in the academic system and unemployment.

I do have an MBA though- which is more than what I could have said for myself two years ago. And I plan to forge on in the world, as the same person I have always been- with the same goals and the same dreams and desires…only this time with all the knowledge that the MBA has brought me, somewhere in this brain of mine. Not so bad, right?

So as I sit on my couch in my new home in Rome (yes, I moved to Italy…more on that later)- I am sorting through the millions of emotions whirling around in my heart, while my weary head is working on grasping the fact that my life in Barcelona is actually over. The MBA is over. Everything I lived for the last two years is just a memory- but an amazing memory at that.

As for the time between the actual graduation and now- it’s been a frenzied whirlwind. I spent another few days in Barcelona- doing everything I should have done while I lived there but I was too busy “living there,” like visiting the Picasso museum and taking the two-hour trip out to Montserrat. And then I occupied myself doing everything I loved doing when I was living there “just one last time.” This time though, I dragged my sister along with me. We ate Maoz falafel in Plaça Reial, drank Cava Sangria at Cervezeria Catalana, and spent hours window-shopping while sipping Starbucks on Passeig De Grácia.

And in between doing everything either for the first time or the last time, I ended my memberships, closed my accounts and gave back my keys. I made numerous trips out to the recycling bin and disposed of finance books, old exams and term papers that took months to write but only moments to throw away. I packed my life into my dusty suitcases and donated whatever didn't fit to whoever would take it. I went to dinners and goodbye drinks. I sang karaoke once again with the same group that sang karaoke with me in Beijing last summer. I drank my favorite German beer with my favorite Germans and ate my favorite Indian food at the home of the best cook of the MBA, Saurabh.

I ran around for four days saying goodbye to everything and everyone that I have taken for granted over the last year and a half. Then, on my final night in Barcelona, outside of a bar at about 3:00 a.m., I couldn't take it any longer. The realization that the end had come and gone and it was finally time to move on- hit me like a ton of bricks. The knot in my stomach tightened, my throat closed off mid-sentence and my eyes started burning. While saying not “adios,” but “hasta luego” to a number of friends, I suddenly found myself in the middle of a street challenging my tears, in vain, to stay within their ducts. It could have been the alcohol or possibly the emotional exhaustion- or maybe it simply happened to be the moment that life decided to hit me with the truth- but I couldn't bear it any longer. I couldn't take any more pictures pretending to smile; I couldn't give any more hugs without feeling my body heaving with tears. I couldn't look into the eyes of any more familiar faces, not knowing when the next time we are together would be, and say goodbye. I just couldn't. So my sister put me in a taxi, I went home, finished packing and ineffectively attempted to sleep. A few hours later- I turned the lights off, took the Spanish SIM card out of my phone- and left Barcelona for one last time. And that was it.

It was a slightly bitter and exceptionally sweet end to one of the best chapters of my life. And even now- contentedly sitting in my beautiful apartment in Rome- commencing a veritable “vita bella”- I am filled with excitement, a bit of sadness and enough nostalgia to last a lifetime.

 And as I mentally close one chapter, I am realizing, above all else, that I am ready for the next. 

Tomorrow

In life, it seems as though we are always planning for what comes next. We are taught to prepare for tomorrow- to organize, practice and ready ourselves for what is approaching- or the idea of what is approaching- because in the end, life never ends up the way we planned.

I’ve slowly begun to notice that everything around me is pointing me in the direction of the future- it’s preparing me- warning me- pushing me towards something that doesn't even exist yet. This utter exhaustion, born from relentlessly staring straight past what is right in front of me, struck me this morning when I realized that even the fashion industry is forgetting today and thrusting tomorrow upon its followers. Fashion, to me, has always been about immediate gratification- living the NOW aspect of things. i.e. spending money I don't have for a quick adrenaline rush- only to later find whatever it is I bought lying dusty and underused somewhere in the back of my closet. Fashion never had anything to do with the future- until I had the startling realization that as soon as I finally splurged on “this winter’s hottest boots,” I received an email from a fashion magazine advising me to, “get the top 10 must haves for Spring.” Screw the spring. It’s still cold out. Night continues to fall far too early and I still have yet to plan my winter ski trip. I’m not done with winter. I’m not ready for the future…not ready for it in so many ways.

Nevertheless, we work our asses off to save up in hopes of one day enjoying our overloaded bank accounts and at the very least, our 401k’s and pension plans. We hire lawyers and write out our wills so that should that day never come- and we can’t spend all that hard earned money- it’s left to make someone else’s future better. We cut butter out of our diets, eat less chocolate and drag ourselves to running clubs or gyms so that we can improve our chances of ageing gracefully- and living longer.

This whole MBA thing was about the future from the very beginning. I was working in New York, perfectly happy with my life and job- and then I began to muse about my own future. It was over four years ago when I decided that, one day, I may want to do an MBA. So I bought an MBA guide, hired a Kaplan tutor, and took the GMATs. Later, I changed careers and put the MBA guide back on the shelf- saving it “for the future.” Two long years after that, I figured that maybe I was ready to become a student again…so I started applying and was accepted. And in the time in between the moment I chose to come to ESADE and the moment I got here, I was preparing to be a business school student- even though, in retrospect, I really had no idea about what that implied.

I arrived- and from the very first day, we were told that we had to start planning, yet again, for the future. We weren’t given any time to just bask in the whole “I’m a student and nothing more” aspect of being once again a part of the academic system. We had to choose between industries and potential career paths from the first week. We have been bombarded with career fairs, internship searches, interviews, CV writing, interview workshops, career counseling, applications, and the like…I could go on forever.

Now, at the end of the day- at the end of the MBA, I find myself where I was when I began- not 100% sure about what I should do with my future- with about a million options- and a year and a half gone, filled with a bunch more planning that honestly- didn't really change the outcome of anything. I would probably be sitting in the same chair, in the same class, with the same job opportunities and the same disorderly thoughts and grave reservations- than if I had spent the last year and a half NOT planning- and just learning. But then again, I will never know that, will I?

So here I am, still unsure of where I will be going the day after graduation- with a blurry path ahead of me- and of course, still wearing last season’s boots.

"'cause every little thing, gonna be alright"

Two months until graduation and apart from abundant weekend festivities and lunchtime banter, there’s an unsettling frenzy descending upon the student body of the graduating class. Several different sentiments are suspended in the air above our heads. It’s like a current- an electrical charge that we are each carrying with us manifesting itself as fear, desire, apprehension and even some sadness. A few people are doing their best to party as hard as they can every chance that they get, because they know that this is it. For this particular crowd, school has taken a backseat to everything else- but to no detriment- as classes are generally light in both time and work-load.

Other people have been hiding out, due to job search anxiety- and the reflections in their eyes consist only of career search websites and cover letter drafts on their overused laptop screens. I get these people- I see why they feel the way they do and occassionaly, I can commiserate. But at the same time, I’m not one of them- not yet. I’m still working on finding my balance.

Of course, I have my freakout moments. Of course, my CV is perpetually in an open window on my laptop. And of course, my wheels are always turning, visualizing, scheming and thinking about what I will be doing after the MBA.

Monday and Tuesday of this week was “Winter MBA Career Fair.” Around 30 companies came to ESADE, generally industry-focused. Presentations ranged from L’Oreal and Nestle to Roche and Pepsico. I never actually expect to find a job at a career fair, and to be honest- my time is probably better spent working on my resume. At the same time, one never knows when the best opportunities may pop up.  And at this point in the MBA game- with graduation looming at less than a two month distance, skipping any networking occasion would be careless.

The fact of the matter is, I’m not sure about anything other than the fact that I am not sure. And that the day after graduation- I’m not going to just disappear if I don't have a job. I’m not going to discintegrate into thin air. Something will happen. Something will come up. Time will push forward, I will move on, and one day- hopefully sooner rather than later- I will end up doing something that I can say with some sort of conviction; “I was meant to end up here.”

In other news, ESADE fell to numner 19 in the FT MBA rankings. As long as it stays in top 10 in Europe and top 20 in the world, I wont ask for my money back.

And as a side note, I beat all the boys in their weekly poker game the other day. I think that's the MBA’s numbers/probablility/statistics working… And then as an homage to all the CSR courses and seminars, I donated my winnings to Haiti.

Here’s the Red Cross link, should anyone else desire to give a little back: http://arc3.convio.net/site/PageServer?pagename=ntld_main&s_src=RSG000000000&s_subsrc=RCO_BigRedButton

The funny thing is though, except for the brief moments in the middle of the night when I wake up sweating, imagining nothing but a dark abyss after the MBA…and the all-too-often converstions I have with those “super motivated” students wondering how many CVs I have sent out and how many networking events I have attended, Im really not that stressed. I’ve always said, excuse my language but, “shit just has a way of working itself out.”

So as much as I do sympathize with my fellow classmates who cry themselves to sleep at night, experience has taught me that- above all else- I will be just fine…probably better than fine.

And recently, while revising the 1000th version of my CV and his 50^th job application, my classmate gently declared, “I hate you because when its all over, you are going to walk away from this MBA with the dream job I will never be able to get.”

God, I hope he’s right.

"Of our elaborate plans, the end."

OK, so it’s been a while since I last wrote and for that I apologize. If I had a valid excuse, I would probably mention it. Truth is, I don’t. Whether it was the fact that “Christmas Break” was three weeks long and I did nothing but eat, drink and be merry- or the fact that I decline to admit to myself that the MBA is reaching its end and therefore am refusing to acknowledge anything of the sort- I have barely opened my laptop since finals.

Now, after an idyllic Christmas in Rome, an absolutely perfect New Year’s in Cortina and many long and lazy days eating my way through Italy- I find myself back in my sub-zero Barcelona apartment- complete with a new family of roaches who seemed to have made a home of my kitchen cabinet. Nonetheless, we are two days into the final term and I’m already short on sleep. This deficiency, however, is no longer due to absurd amounts of work and early classes. Instead, I am now losing sleep as a result of the knowledge that in less than 10 weeks, I will be graduating.

School commenced as it always seems to do after any sort of break…classes began as seamlessly as they ended, we welcomed the new faces here on exchange, said hi to our old friends, dusted off our computers and dug the course books out of our mailboxes. I’m not worried anymore about making it through- If I’m still on the roster after the first year, I am confident that I will be a permanent fixture in ESADE until I am handed my degree.  What I’m worried about is the imminent end. On March 26^th, we will be official MBA’s. That’s exciting. What’s not-so-exciting is March 27^th. “The Morning After.” I will wake up…and then what?

Of my classmates, I think only between 5%-10% have post-grad job offers. And of the remaining 90% of us, there are a good number who are still unsure of what they want to do and where. Although I do wish the best for my schoolmates and their futures, it makes me feel much better that I am not agonizing alone in this quiet disorientation.

It seems that throughout the last four years of my life, I’m continuously heading towards the end of something and the beginning of another.

I’ve heard, read and described the life of an MBA student in countless ways. From “incredible whirlwind,” to “bizarre ride,” MBA students around the globe assume a broad array of emotions throughout their programs. To me, its like I’ve lived an entire miniature life in this finite period of time. In the all-too-short 18 months, I’ve experienced more than my fair share. But the part I’ve loved most about it- is all the many little beginnings and endings wedged in between the margins of the one big beginning and end- the day we began to the day we finish. It’s almost as if- in this one imposing pink building on this one quiet street in this one European city, we have all lived a whole life together, complete with a dawn, a period of growth, a dusk, and a new family that we probably would not have chosen but have grown to love. Now that we are approaching the ultimate end of this part of our lives- all the slightly inconsequential beginnings and endings begin to take on more significance and I have found myself trying to cram as much as I can into the next two and a half months. I’m already starting to miss parts of my life here in Barcelona.

My best friend said to me as we were discussing job searches on the way to school today, “Our little party has come to an abrupt end.”

I couldn't have put it better myself.

O! Say Can You See...

A year ago, I may have lamented about being stuck in Spain during Thanksgiving- with a 7:30 wake up call, classes all day and not so much as a suggestion of a cornucopia.  What makes it harder though, is the thought of my fellow Americans at home with their four-day weekends, the company of their entire families and a table full of enough food to feed a small country. Today, however, during my second Thanksgiving in Spain as an ESADE student- I'm surprised to find myself with only a shy hint of homesickness. Instead of longing for traditions of the past, I have a new tradition in which to partake.

After class, I will be picking up the ingredients for the creamed spinach I plan to cook for 40 students at our second annual Thanksgiving feast. Being that the MBA lasts only 18 months, it’s infrequent that we have the opportunity to create traditions. This year, we're not starting something new- we're not trying something out that hasn’t been done before. This year, our Thanksgiving celebration will bring with it a familiar quality- Manu with his famous Sangria, Felix busily basting (or whatever it is you do with poultry) the turkey and Vicky with her fabulous all-American apple pie. Thanksgiving in b-school is a new tradition, but a tradition nonetheless. And for that reason, I welcome it into my repertoire of unforgettable pastimes- into my MBA memory bank.

When I was little, after sitting around the Thanksgiving dinner table with my family for hours- full bellied and nearly ready for our early evening naps, we were all acutely aware of the fact that there was something to be done to signify the conclusion of the feast. Every individual- from Nana Annie to eccentric aunt Liss, would stand up on their chairs, place their hands over their hearts- and sing “The Star Spangled Banner” at the tops of their lungs. Being that the only person in the room that could actually carry a tune was my sister, it wasn't a pretty sight. However, our feigned patriotism stands out for me as the symbol of Thanksgiving in my home.

The Witkin clan chorus is family tradition that began at some point with my grandpa’s odd outburst of song, and will continue throughout the generations to come (on my part, at least).

As I got older and didn't live at home anymore- my mom never failed to fly me in for the Thanksgiving festivities. And each year, we continued the singing ritual. In later years, my parents divorced and although our Thanksgiving dinners took place in two different locations, at two different times- we still sang “The Star Spangled Banner” with gusto. And although, as the years have passed, we have suffered the loss of loved ones and welcomed new additions to the family, the custom holds strong and the neighbors can still hear our wailing from down the street.

At some point in the last decade, in addition to our singing, we somehow managed to add another tradition to the mix. I don’t remember exactly when it began or from whom we adapted it- but it is still maintained among family members on Thanksgiving regardless of how far apart we may be.

Now, after all the food and the subsequent singing, we go around the table and ,one-by-one, give thanks for everything good in our lives- everything we appreciate, everything we recognize as a blessing. We were never necessarily patriots, nor are we religious- but I was brought up to "Carpe Diem"- and to appreciate all that I have. Maybe this tradition began because amongst the wine, turkey, tofurky, the chatter, the airport runs, the days and days of shopping and cooking and preparation- Thanksgiving loses its meaning- that is: the day of thanks- the secular type.

I was thinking...if I stand up on my chair at dinner and attempt to hit the high notes shrieking “…and the rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air…”, my classmates might finally consider me certifiably crazy. Therefore, I am simply going to stick with giving thanks.

We have about four months left in the MBA, so it seems that now is as good a time as any to define what I am grateful for. Last year, when our first Thanksgiving together came upon us- each friend filled the voids left by family members back home carving the turkey and mashing the potatoes. At that time, this year’s Thanksgiving felt like a lifetime away. Now it’s here and is most probably the last thanksgiving I will ever spend in Spain. That said, I know I have plenty to give thanks for:

I am thankful to Ray, my GMAT tutor, without whom I never would have rocked the math section and therefore, probably wouldn't be doing an MBA.

I am thankful to Mary, the career services dynamo who interviewed me 2 years ago. Not only did meeting her make me hands-down choose ESADE, but she let me in. She had faith that this artsy, creative non-business person would actually be able to succeed in an MBA.

I am thankful to my mom and stepdad Peter, who have given me all the opportunities in the world. They are the ones who pushed me to do an MBA and they are the ones who pay my credit card bill when I realize I have no money left in my Caja Madrid account because the stupid Euro has skyrocked.

I’m thankful to all my friends here at school, who made the MBA what it is- who made the tough parts bearable and the good parts even better. These are the people whose faces I see every morning on the bus when the sun has not yet risen and the faces looking at me from across the room with the same tired eyes or knowing grins.

I am thankful to Papa Louie who began the singing tradition, and who I miss more and more each year.

Most of all, I have to give one more shout-out to my mom who worked her ass off to  make every thanksgiving of my childhood and early adulthood extraordinary. We should all be lucky enough to have a mom like mine.

Unambiguity

I have hundreds (literally. hundreds.) of unfinished drafts of random thoughts and three-worded descriptions of things and people and places. I’ve done so much in the last few months- encounters and meetings and mornings and evenings- that run periodically through my mind at the most inopportune times. They all mean something significant to me but I cannot seem to turn them into evocative language. I cant put my finger on what the significance of any of it is- and where the lessons can be found.

I spent a month in China- it was a life changing experience- and I have yet to write about it. I spent a summer vagabonding around the world for what will probably be the last time in my semi-adult life. I’ve lost someone important to me. I am back in Barcelona for the final months of the “MBA period” of my life- something I can never get back but am anticipating the end. I’ve ended friendships, I’ve strengthened bonds, and I’ve spent a lot of time wondering about the people in my life- and whether they belong here or not. 

 I’m in the process of making changes- of making decisions- big decisions…and for some reason, I feel like the consequences or costs of these decisions will be the lasting kind. And because of this, I’ve become inert. I can’t write a simple sentence about a simple experience. I can’t move. I cant say “yes” because “no” might be the right answer. I can’t look up cause I’m afraid of what I’ll miss by not looking down.

These are the biggest decisions I have ever had to make and they are looming so close that I am beginning to suffocate. It’s not about choices- because I’ve never been a believer in selecting only from what is laid out in front of me- instead I’m trying to figure out what brings me joy and then somehow mold that into a career for myself- all the while creating something sustainable, profitable (enough to validate this whole MBA thing), valuable and most importantly, fitting.

I came here a year ago not knowing what I wanted to leave doing- I had some ideas, some suggestions and some thoughts- yet everything I had outlined has expired. And every path that I had routed has either become a dead-end or so obscured that I can’t make it out anymore. This isn’t a bad thing- it’s just an unexpected thing.

I don't know how many people embark on an MBA with the objective of mapping out the rest of their lives- at least their professional lives. I had laid on the expectation and then sat and patiently waited for something or someone to come calling- showing me the way…

Unfortunately, “the way” is just as blurry as it was when I began- as it was when I graduated college, as it was when I found my first job, my second, and third- and “my path” is now as shadowy and dim as it was when I began my MBA. I know more about myself- and I have more knowledge, there is no doubt about that. I can DO more- much more. But it is where I want to apply this knowledge that is vague. There are no classes about this. Not in business school.

Right now- I am wishing I were one of those people who came to the MBA with a plan. Unfortunately, the MBA was my plan. I had hoped that throughout this experience, a more concrete idea would form- but it hasn't. The MBA is still my plan. And when it’s over? Then what?

Until that fateful day, I will keep attending career fairs, keep writing sentence-long journal entries and then abandoning them. I’ll keep reading cases and waking up for classes and hopefully- before too long, I´ll have a clear direction to go in. I’ll see everything that is indefinite as definite- and everything ambiguous as decided. I’ll be able to define all my relationships and compartmentalize them perfectly. I’ll find the words I’m looking for and I’ll use them as they were meant to be used. I’ll do with my life what I was meant to do all along- whatever that may be.

Go-Time

In the unofficial/unwritten guidebook about MBAs, the second year is a breeze. We actually get to choose our own courses and therefore, tailor them to our interests and needs. Schedules are a lot looser and free time is actually free.

What I didn't expect was the squeeze- the time when you are so close to the edge of something that you know if you don't go left and you don't go right- you are going to fall right off. And after two years and a lot of dinero, you definitely can’t go backwards.

So it’s decision time- time to make choices. And if I were to write this “brochure”- direct and openly, I would have a million footnotes in there too. Like all the peripheral influences making these choices harder.

I know that not everyone is like me, that there are many different profiles found amongst MBA students...but I know and understand my situation- and I know that 1. I am not married. 2. I am 28 years old  and 3. I'm still searching. I think I would be more “OK” with a new beginning and a new path if it weren’t for everyone around me seeming to exist on a different level.

I spent my first long weekend in quite some time at home. I hung out in my flat, didn't leave Barcelona by plane or train and I gave myself the gift of “me” time. This means: catching up on Grey’s Anatomy and Entourage. It means listening to the Beatles and eating grilled cheese in bed. It also means scanning facebook in order to catch up on all the gossip I missed.

In the past, my perusal of facebook consisted of seeing who got fat, who got a great job, who moved across the world. Now- it’s more of a tally of who is married, who is engaged, who is pregnant, and who has kids. This info isn’t too hard to unearth- considering the people I know who kindly put their sonograms as their profile pics- and each new wedding photo or honeymoon shot or adorable little family foto is like another thorn in my side. Because at the end of the day, here are all the people I grew up with – and they have families and secure futures and its kind of all just settled in a nice and tidy parcel. And here I am- on the totally opposite side of the spectrum- deciding on a new career- making choices about who I want to be, what my professional goals are, how much of a difference do I want to make in the world and what continent I want to tackle next. And yes, this is me…I am an explorer and I have so much more I would like to accomplish before I do any kind of settling- but at the same time, I have the moments where I wish I had chosen an easier path.

The unknown is scary…but the unknown for someone nearing 30 is far more terrifying.

Before the MBA, and during- I had this as my identity: Business Student in Barcelona. The future was just the future and the past just the past. Now the future is approaching at lighting speed and I am realizing that I can no longer hang on to the “ESADE student” identity that has been my padded cushion for the last couple years.

I am not a wife, I am not a mother and it doesn't look like I am any closer to having a ring on my finger than I was when I was applying for the MBA. I can’t go backwards, I have learned that. I don't know what’s to the left, and I don’t want what’s to the right.

So as time passes far too quickly, I realize that I am being pushed forwards- frenziedly- and six months from now, I will fall off.  It’s up to me to figure out what is waiting at the bottom.

It's “go- time”…and time to get rid of my facebook account.

Deviating

After arriving home from school yesterday, my entire evening was consumed by fervently reading about Vampires. By fervent, I mean that I’m on book three of the Twilight series. While I should be ashamed of reading novels written for pre-teens as a 28-year-old MBA student, I’m not.

We all have our things. We all have our vices. If my current vice happens to be obsessively reading about fictional affection between mortals, vampires and werewolves - so be it.

There are other things too- other things I shouldn't admit but I will because I have difficulty keeping my own secrets.

Other things- like the fact that although I live in Barcelona, I was actually hoping for a Chelsea victory last night. Definitely shouldn't admit that…

On my way to Spanish on Monday afternoon, I got distracted by BCBG’s summer collection and never actually made it. Instead, I updated my wardrobe.

I have additional issues to identify- I’m not done. These aren’t vices- more like deviations or irregularities. Things about me most people don't know- not because I wouldn't admit to them, but because these things would never come up in any normal conversation.

I have webbed toes, just two and it’s not very noticeable, but there’s no doubt about it- they’re webbed. I inherited them from my grandma.

I often pick up and consume chocolate bars on the way to the gym.

I’m terrified of dying- not of death, but of losing life- and of what other people will find on my computer and in my journals. Death is embarrassing.

I hate being cold. I hate it with a passion- It’s actually painful for me. After last weekend, I hate Milan too.

I still don't “get” Twitter.

I’ve had my heart broken many times- but I keep going back for more…I let myself love far too easily.

I spent Monday night developing old photos and sticking them all over my room in college-dorm style. (so much for my sophisticated pied de terre). 

I missed my friends. I missed my old life- so I surrounded myself with memories of it so as not to feel so far from them. Now I wake up and the first thing I see in the morning, looking at the wall across from my bed- is my best friend smiling at me as we were walking up 5th avenue eating ice cream in the middle of the summer.

What else? I don't have an internship yet. The “not having an internship” isn’t the distressing part…it's the reason for not having one;

About 70% of the students in my class don't have internships yet, but that's to be expected. I cant say that I have been the most proactive in my search but every effort I do and I don't make- is highly considered and calculated. I don't know yet what I want to do- with my life, that is. I have NO idea where to consign the remainder of my working years. In terms of accepting an internship just to “have an internship,” why would I want to spend three critical months in a place I know I don't want to end up?

The MBA has provided me with a type of clarity I didn't expect. Although, in the last 8 months I have not learned exactly what it is I want to do- I have learned what I don't want to do. This is useful- we spoke today about “The Paradox of Choice: Why More is Less.” Therefore, it would logically follow that “Less is More” and if I’m narrowing down my choices- I ultimately am left with “more.” So thank you, grad school, for showing me the dark- nay, the light.

I’m not scared of the internship because it would be hard…of course not, I love a challenge. I’m not anxious about returning to the work force- the time is so limited; it would just be like a stop on the way back to the MBA. What I’m fearful of is the opportunity cost of the opportunity. I, once again, am being indecisive. (surprise, surprise). 

I’m nervous to choose something wrong- to waste my one MBA summer on an experience that will only show me another path I will choose not to go down- another bolded “NO” on the list of things I could have done with my life but ended up realizing that they were not for me.

On certain days, I wake up inspired and I think I have found the solution…I look for internships and when the opportunities start to materialize, I go to bed and wake up with another idea- edging out the original plan due to the fear factor of doing something wrong- losing out on an even better opportunity- the PERFECT opportunities…the opportunity cost.

I am not the typical MBA student…that is clear. So what makes everyone pushing me to prostitute my resume around to big multinationals think that it's the right thing to do? 

I’m going for something less traditional- if it takes me a bit longer to arrive there- that's ok with me…nothing genuinely worth anything in life is ever easy.

Therefore, a large part of the reason for not yet having an internship is the fear of making the wrong choice. Not immobility- but trepidation.

I could go on- I could justify why I didn't apply to any mammoth pharmaceutical companies or global banks for the summer…or I could continue to list all my imperfections or the trivial mistakes I make daily. But I cant. I have to study for my Corporate Finance midterm because I wasted last night reading at a first grade level. I can’t say that I didn't enjoy it either.

To Exchange or Not To Exchange

That is the question.

(The question that has to be answered by the February 23rd deadline). 

The question, that is, whether to go on an exchange program or not.

Study abroad…yet again. Exchange, denoting change: a change of country, of home, address, of friends, cuisine, clocks, beds, schedules, exchanging everything that has become comfortable for everything that is wholly foreign- unfamiliar- unknown…one more time. 

To most, this great disturbance of life as we know it is nothing but an inconvenience- a hassle that anyone in their right mind would try to avoid. Maybe it's something I should be avoiding, especially given that I only moved here six months ago.

Be that as it may, this time- just like every other time- I have jumped at the opportunity to turn my life upside down. 

Study abroad? Porque no? A chance to further the breadth of my knowledge- of my understanding of the world? That's what I’m talking about. This is my territory…this is what I know. Throw me into any country, on any continent- without anything familiar in sight- and I’ll become a local. 

Put me in tax law class and I’ll forever be a foreigner.

There are, however, a few obstacles. There is, as always, the burden of choice. Where to go? When to go? And how the hell I’m going to get in. Seems the exchange thing is pretty competitive.

When to go? That's pretty clear. I’m looking at first term next fall. Yet there is always the chance that I'm going to pull a “Florence 2001” and simply not go back to my home school. Although- DC is much less alluring than Barcelona.

Where to go? That's where the big question mark is. Under normal circumstances- the criterion would be based on where I have never been before- or the furthest destination possible. This time however, there are other factors to take into account. Such as; courses offered, faculty, spaces available for exchange students, language spoken, language taught, curriculum focus, ranking (FT primarily), and so on and so forth. And then, of course, the be all end all of most major decisions while not earning an expendable income: The Mom. Here’s how that has gone so far:

Me: Hi, I think I’m going to go on exchange. What do you think?

Mom: Morgan, aren’t you already ‘studying abroad’?

Me: Well, yes. But it’s different. It's a good opportunity. Learn a new culture, a new language, a new experience.

Mom: Again Morgan, didn't you just get to Spain? Aren’t you still learning the Spanish culture, the Spanish language, isn’t everyday a new experience?

Me: Well, yeah, but I am ready for something new.

Mom: At this rate, in a few years, you’re going to be applying to a PhD on Mars.

Me: Anything’s possible

Mom: Morgan, what is it exactly that you want? Why is it never enough?

She does have a point. After all, she has never not had a point. And that, the “being enough” thing, has plagued me for as long as I can remember. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. I want more. To that end, I finished my application last night. We can choose up to ten schools to apply to. I applied to ten- just to be safe.

Here’s my list, in order of preference from one to ten. Please don’t try to find a rhyme or reason to the order- because I don’t have one:

1 China Europe International Business School – CEIBS (Shanghai)

2 HEC MBA PROGRAM (Paris- well, the outskirts of Paris unfortunately)

3 Chinese University of Hong Kong

4 Fudan University (Shanghai)

5 NUS Business School (Singapore)

6 Australian Grad. School of Management, Univ.New South Wales

7 SDA Bocconi (Milano)

8 Leonard N. Stern School of Business, New York Univ. (NEW YORK BABY!)

9 Pontificia Universidad Catolica de Chile (Santiago, I believe)

10 University of Melbourne (G’day mate)

So the decision of whether “to go or not to go” is no longer in my hands. “Where” to go is more like it. And “how” to afford it is yet another. But when there’s a will there’s a way…this I know, if I’ve learned anything.

“The undiscover’d country from whose bourn no traveler returns, puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have than to fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all: and thus the native hue of resolution.”

There’s some food for thought.

It may be a bit dramatic of me to introduce the contemplations of Shakespeare, being that studying abroad isn’t quite as absolute as death- but “to exchange or not to exchange,” isn’t lacking in its own form of dramatics. And thus, this undiscovered country in which I hope to live- despite the “unknown”- calls me. “That I know not of” beckons. And conscience? Forget my conscience. Cowardice I know not of.

Sorry, mom. Again.

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

Vision Versions

In ESADE’s hopes of turning us MBA students into great leaders, we have all found ourselves in the midst of a “Leadership Assessment and Development Program." As described by the school, “The Leadership Assessment and Development Programme (LEAD) is personalized and provides each students with the tools he needs to improve his leadership abilities and to incorporate new competencies during his career. The programme detects those skills that individual students particularly need to enhance. After completing the training and evaluating the results through group activities, coaching sessions, and teamwork, participants are aware of their strengths and weaknesses, helping them develop the skills that will be vital in their chosen careers.”

One of the first assignments, amongst a number of evaluations, questionnaires and presentations in the past few weeks- was to write a “Personal Vision” statement of around 10 pages. The first draft was due a week ago (final draft to be handed in by the end of the month) and from what I observed, the deadline created more anxiety amongst students than any one of our four-hour finals.

Ah, the irony!

Either way, in this “Personal Vision” statement, we were meant to define where we see ourselves in the future- taking into account all we have encountered in the course thus far- our learning styles, values, and so on and so forth. 

My written response, of course, danced around the question with shapes and figures rarely present in the context of an MBA- it was a waltz- an unintentional waltz, but a waltz nonetheless. If my “coach” manages to extract anything of use from the ten pages of adjectives and metaphors I finally handed in, she’s a certifiable genius. 

I wish her luck.

On the other hand, one of my closest friends in the program sent me her first line and I absolutely had to blog about it…seeing as though it would be wrong to plagiarize. She revealed that she is writing her personal vision, “In the hope that I can sort out some of the noise that fills my head and organize the brilliant yet sporadic moments of truth that come and go often too soon and sometimes too late.”

Now this is truth. This- I love. This is where I am coming from. 

She is so right, not just in the context of the MBA- but in life. There exist these moments of truth- of recognition…and if we are lucky enough, they don’t pass us by. Because as she mentions, “they” come too quickly and oftentimes, a bit too late. 

Furthermore, these points of reference are fleeting. Whether it be sitting in class and finally understanding a new concept before it evades me once again- or like last Friday night, on a private boat- sailing at 1:00 a.m. in the eye of a storm leaving from Sorrento to Capri, amongst some of the people that make me happiest in the world- there is truth. It lies in these moments- we see it, and feel it- for a split second, and then it is gone. And with these momentary sparks that dart in and out of our lives, we are meant to decipher our hopes and aspirations- our “personal visions.” 

Now, can someone tell me how to do that? 

Because these moments are rare- and disorganized- and in dire need of not only order and regulation, but of longevity. If only we could take one of these instances- and make it permanent- prolong its existence for enough time to understand it. If only I could bottle these moments- and keep them on a shelf- just to know that they are there- that I had them once. Then again, maybe doing just that that would kill them. 

Like fireflies. 

When I was little, in summertime, the yard would be full of fireflies- the enchanting nocturnal bugs that intermittently light up and shine just for half of a second to let you know that they are there. I tried to catch fireflies once and put them in a jar- because I wanted them to shine in my room as I slept…and by the time I woke up in the morning, I had killed them.

Maybe that was a lesson, not only as a lesson then in losing something you love, or being kind to nature- but a lesson for later in life. In that- sometimes things will exist and then they are gone- and that’s just the nature of what they are- that’s what makes them special. 

So now its up to me, and people like me in this MBA- to take the shadows and echoes of these moments- once the light has already flickered and died- and turn them into something concrete…a future, a plan, a vision.

Now as for my "personal vision," after ten pages of words and theories and disjointed thoughts of potential goals, I concluded with;

“I hope to be challenged everyday- to find myself on a career path where I am confident in my skills. I never want to question my capacity to do my job and to lead others. I hope to make a difference. I hope to leave a mark. I hope to be surrounded by people who both stimulate me and appreciate the stimulation I provide them. 

I must be passionate about what I am doing. I want to use my creativity but at the same time, I want to know that whatever it is I do daily- is actually making an impact. 

I want enough time to pursue my passions but at the same time, I want my job to include my passions. I want to fuse that which I love and that which is lucrative. Again, if I knew what that was- I wouldn’t be here now…I’d be doing it. I don’t need all the money in the world, but I want enough to allow for comfort. I never want to worry. I don’t plan on a family at the moment, but if and when I do have one, I never want my children to be in want of anything.

I hope to travel- and most likely, to live internationally. I hope to work with many people from many cultures- and spend significant amounts of time in different parts of the world. I hope to constantly be learning- not only a propos the subject matter of my job, but exterior things as well. I hope to have people around me that can constantly teach me- teach me about themselves, about the world, and ultimately- about myself. I don’t want to be forever shifting, but I don’t want to ever feel stuck- maybe I will be in a few places long enough to call them home.

I hope to be a leader. I hope to be adept enough- at whatever it is I am doing- to be in a position of leadership. I hope to not only direct, but also to guide. I hope that people who work for, or under me, will gain something- will be inspired by me. I don’t expect to change people’s lives, but I intend to make an impact. I hope to one day impart some of the wisdom that I have gained through my many experiences in friendships, jobs, and in life. 

I hope for enough freedom so that I never feel trapped, but enough security so that I never feel unsafe or unsure. I like the unknown. I never want to find myself in a career where I am 100% sure that I will be in the same seat, doing the same thing years down the road. I want to always be challenged, and it is not important to me if I don’t exactly know what is around the corner- as long as I know there is something awaiting me there. 

I want to work hard, but I don’t want it to be for naught. I want to see results- changes. I never want to race against those I work with- only with competitors. If I work in a team, I will do my best to make it cohesive. I hope that everyone will seek the greater good of the group- and not the individuals. 

I hope to learn something everyday- but I also hope to teach someone something everyday. I hope to be respected- I hope to interact with others, to understand them and to help them understand me.

I don’t have any strong desire to change- but there are a few qualities in myself that I would like to tone down or build up. I hope that after this MBA, I will be more patient- with everything- with myself and with others. I hope I can learn to be a bit more selfless- a bit less judgmental. I see the good in others- but I have to learn how to better extract that good and apply it to my own growth. I hope that I can learn to be a bit more diplomatic- less candid- less aggressive. I hope that one day, I will be more organized, more direct. I hope to learn to prioritize in order of importance- as opposed to prioritizing in order of desires. I have many flaws- but I also know that these flaws can sometimes be assets- so in a way, part of my “ideal vision” is to find a career where the things that have held me back, can actually push me forward. 

And maybe, one day, I will learn to not speak so generally. About everything. But for now- it works.”

I suppose we will soon find out what kind of leader they will make out of me.

The Comforts of Home

I booked my ticket to Barcelona. I’m moving to Spain and there’s no turning back now (not that there was really any turning back when I paid my school deposit- But that’s immaterial). Therefore, in about one week- I will say goodbye to my life as I know it and begin anew. 

Before I get totally weepy eyed about all that I am leaving behind, there are a few things that come to mind as I think about what I will be gaining. Beyond all the givens- like having experiences I will look back on for the rest of my life- there are some aspects of this move that are comforting to think about as I struggle to fit my life into a few suitcases.

First and foremost, I will have a home. It’s been a while. Come to think of it, I haven’t lived in one place for longer than a few months in over two years.

I’d like to consider myself easily adaptable and therefore, I believe I have made a life for myself in each city I have inhabited in the past but- still. I haven’t had a home.

There are the small things that we take advantage of when we do have mortgages or leases… I know I never appreciated them. Instead, I complained about how “stuck” I felt. It was as if my things were keeping me where I was- and not my desires. This time however, its different. This time- I’m moving somewhere, for a set period of time, on my terms.

I can’t wait to have a local bank account, a blender, my own sheets that I know I will be sleeping in a year from now. I can’t wait to have a hairdryer that won’t require a converter.

I will have a local grocery store, a coffee shop whose menu I will see enough times to memorize, take-out menus on my fridge- I’ll have a fridge!  

I’ll have shelves filled with my own books- the books that I’ve loved- the books I’ll have read over and over and the ones that will bring me back to a certain place at a certain time when I touch their spines.

I’ll have photos- in frames that aren’t swathed in bubble wrap- of people I know and adore. Ill have a mailing address that isn’t “Care Of” someone else.

I’ll have a “shoe guy” to fix my worn out soles and a regular hideaway to ease my soul.

I’ll be able to buy monthly metro cards instead of single rides and I’ll have stable Internet access- no more stealthily stealing neighbors’ connections or WiFi hunting.

I’ll have bills. Not that I’m sooo looking forward to bills- but at least they’ll be mine.

I’ll have a local doctor that will remember my name and a regular salon that will remember my hair.

When someone asks me directions, I’ll know what to tell them- instead of shrugging my shoulders and explaining that I’m a tourist too.

I’ll unpack my bags. Completely. For the first time in years. 

I’ll be a local. Eventually. Regardless of how long it takes to consider myself a local- I’ll know that it’s coming- and booking my flight there was only the beginning.

The Next Step

I’m back in England- for a limited period of time. It’s kind of that in-between period, neither here nor there, where I am no longer wrapping up my life in America but I haven’t yet moved to Spain.

Therefore, I have this time to reflect, relax, and maybe even define what it is I want out of the next year and a half of my MBA in Barcelona.

After far too much introspection on a trans-Atlantic flight (my personal entertainment system was on the fritz and I cant sleep on flights), I realized one very important factor about this experience ahead of me.

I think, for the very first time in my life, that I am leaving for a new country (and there have been many) and leaping into an entirely new experience, when I’m not “running away” from anything. 

Don’t get me wrong, my life has been great up until now- but I’m fickle and have had a tendency to become bored with jobs/cities/people. 

It’s the whole “familiarity breeds contempt” theory. 

I’m hoping this affliction will change as I get older, but for now- it’s the resentment with what is known to me that drives me. 

Consequently, as soon as I become comfortable and secure in a situation- I begin looking for a way out- the next step. As they say, hindsight is 20-20 and if I am to be completely objective- it would only be fair to admit that it wasn’t only the familiarity of situations that drove me to change my life- but there has always been a tinge of unhappiness polluting whatever life it was I happened to be living at that time. 

For example, when I left DC for Italy, I can’t say that I was completely pleased with what the GW University experience had afforded me. And two years later, when I left Milan for Rome- I hated Milan. And when I left Rome for New York- I was sick of my job and in an intense relationship I wasn’t ready for. And when I left New York for France- I was bored with my American existence. And these are just a few examples- there are at least ten more cities around the globe that I could name…but that would probably scare off anyone who met me in a certain city and considered becoming my friend.

But something has changed…and as detached as I can tend to be, I am at a point where I am unable to step away from myself to consider it. All I know is that I am- at once- excited about what is ahead of me, I can smile about what is behind me, and I am actually a bit sad to leave what is at hand. (And what a good feeling it is!)

This realization has breathed new life into my forthcoming move- if it were at all possible, I am now even more eager to begin. With the knowledge that I am committed to this experience, and I have committed to it for no other reason than the mere fact that it is something I desire for myself, I know that the next couple years will be remarkable. And with the bittersweet sadness of leaving my current life, comes the tremendous realization that I’m doing this because I want it- and not as a means to avoid doing something else. 

Nothing Good Ever Comes Easy

I don't know what it is about New York that brings out the introspective aspect of my personality- maybe its the sense of longing I get while I'm here- being that I miss it. I miss the life I had, and part of me (yes, I admit it) is scared for YET ANOTHER new phase... Maybe I just have too much time to think while I'm here. Or maybe it's because my time is limited- it's impermanent- so I'm forced to cram everything in, meanwhile- thinking about what came before and everything that is coming after...who I was then and who I am now and who I may be when I come back the next time- if and when I do come back.

As always, I've loved every second of being here. It's rainy and grey and the only boots I brought are ruined but I wake up happy. I wonder if I'll feel this at peace during the next chapter of my life- if I will wake up in Barcelona, surrounded by friends who challenge me and make me laugh, ready for whatever the day will bring. I hope so. I hope that Barcelona becomes my home and not just a city that I'll live in. I think it's rare to find a home. I've lived in many cities and few have actually felt as good to me as New York did...and still does.

Last night I caught up with an old friend of mine- over excessive wine and backgammon.
At one point during the ebb and flow of our conversation, the question was raised as to why I do the things I do. I mean, there I was- with a great friend- engrossed in fabulous conversation in a fabulous apartment in a fabulous city- and I left! I left all of this- one of my first true homes, New York, and the life I had made for myself here. And now? Well, now I'm leaving again- heading off into more unfamiliar territory...doing an MBA in Spain of all places. My friend brought up a great point. He said that I never make it easy for myself. And he was right.
My reply was; I only do the things I'm most terrified of, their return is always the greatest. The more I have thought about this statement of mine, the more I realize how true it is. I know it's been said before- and I'm not claiming to be any wiser than I am- but I do seem to consistently choose the more formidable routes...never making it easy.

I know (very well) what it feels like to get off of a plane in a new country, with overweight luggage and only a smudged address scrawled on a scrap piece of paper. It feels like it was only yesterday that I went through it- and it's hard. It's lonely and its scary but It's worth it. VERY WORTH IT. I just have to remind myself of this when my heart starts beating fast in the departures terminal as I am going over the few phrases I can pronounce in Catalan. I'll think back to New York and when I moved here at 23- And then two years later- sad to leave because it HAD become my home and I loved it here and knew it like the back of my hand. And now, almost four years later- coming back just to visit- and still knowing it like the back of my hand- as if New York has become a piece of me.

I can only hope that four years from now, I will go back to Barcelona- to visit- and walk the streets I'll know well, eat at the restaurants that will have become my regular haunts- meeting up with friends that although strangers today, will one day remind me of who I was, keeping me grounded, and recalling the priceless moments we shared.

So enough introspection for one day- I'm off to dodge rogue taxi drivers, ruin another pair of shoes on the damp streets, shop in overpriced boutiques for new ones I don't need, and eat my favorite lunch in my favorite SOHO restaurant while planning a massive party for Saturday night...
See? I NEVER make it easy!