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…

 

Christmas Lights

The Christmas lights have, at long last, been threaded throughout the dazzling streets of Rome. And as I walk along under the evening light, gazing at the beaded illumination, glowing sparklers and shimmering ribbons of bulbs- I experience a mixture of emotions- joy, nostalgia and regret. Joy- because how can one not be joyful in Rome around the holidays? Nostalgia- because…well I don't really know why. Maybe I just miss my family. And a bit of regret- because I am leaving for India in three days- which means I will fully miss out on the three most important Italian winter milestones: Christmas, New Year’s Eve and the Winter Sales (sigh…particularly due to the latter).

Right now- Rome is so beautiful, so festive- and so incredibly charming. But I’m sad- and as I sat on the couch attempting to find the words to explain how I feel, with MTV blaring on the television in the background, I heard Chris Martin’s familiar voice singing a new song, Christmas Lights. Coldplay sang… “Doesn’t really feel like Christmas at all.” Good song- just about how I feel- have a listen below…I guess I would call it my 2010 Christmas anthem. I have to say, its much better than Train’s overplayed Christmas song, “shake up the happiness, wake up the happiness, come on ya’ll…it’s Christmas time.”

I mean, come on. Seriously?

To make matters worse- I just found out that Limewire is under a court order to stop distributing software. Which means no Christmas music on my new hard drive. Sorry Mariah.

Of course, I am thrilled to be leaving for India- it's a trip I’ve been anticipating for the greater part of five years. On the other hand, having spent nearly 15 days of the last 30 in the Indian Embassy has not proven been the best launch to the magical experience I have in mind. In Shantaram, the author mentioned something about the Indians being the Italians of the East. Now, I haven’t yet been to India- but I have spent days waiting around the Indian embassy- and I can honestly say, based on first impressions (from a bureaucratic standpoint) that this statement couldn't be more true. I laughed when I read it. Yet- I cried when I realized it was true.

I have been completely at the mercy of this incredibly unfortunate culture clash. Simply put Italians (disorganized, slow, stubborn, proud, fiery and aloof) in an office, add a few Indians (indifferent, smug, stubborn and apathetic) and voilá- welcome to inefficiency and a lot of unanswered inquiries. Finally though, I am happy to report, I did manage to get my visa. Please don't get me wrong- the larger fraction of my favorite people in the world consist of both Italians and Indians- I am purely speaking on my experience with the employees of the Indian Embassy of Rome on Via 22 Settembre, 5 (in case anyone was wondering how to find where misery lives…)

I suppose one good thing about Italy is that its national colors are already green and red- therefore, only a few changes have to be made in invoke the “Christmas Spirit”- a snowflake here, a silver bell there- and there ya go. Along with the lights and the trees and the Santas in store windows- Rome is utterly freezing- but like .01 degrees too warm to snow- which is the worst. This weather means, to me; blue lips, walking around in my ski clothes, three horrible days of the flu and the interminable waiting for snow like Waiting for Godot. I am so pumped full of medicine it’s hard to really bask in the Christmas joy of hanging lanterns and glittering palazzi. I did feel good enough today to go to the dog park in Villa Borghese, where a baby Dalmatian maimed Dudy’s perfect little nose so badly I think he’s going to be disfigured for life. But as my friend Stephan says, I’m building up my sh*t capital so that the India trip will go off without a hitch. (here’s hoping…)

Oh, and I spent last weekend in Naples for the Baptism of my Boyfriend’s niece. We went to the family church in the tiny city outside of Pompeii where Antonio grew up. That was interesting as well. Here’s how it went (I’m going to do this in English):

Antonio: “Morgan I want to introduce you to the priest. He basically raised me” (at this point- I should have known to run)

Morgan: “OK”

Priest: “Hi Antonio. How’r’ya? This the girlfriend? Ah well, Antonio- I was watching you, you didn't cross yourself in the manner you were raised. (looks at me all knowingly) You should teach him.”

Morgan: “I’m Jewish”

Priest: (looks at me with an expression between shock and disappointment) “hmmmm ….well….(looks at Antonio) Are you going to convert?(Looks at me) I guess….you are still waiting for your God.

Whatever that means…

Morgan: (speechless)

Aunt of Antonio: (Interjects) “No she has Allah.”

Morgan: (still speechless)

Antonio: (babbles something inaudible)

Really? That was news to me…

So that was fun.

Now...I’m going to go out, eat pizza, and snap a few shots of some dangling lights before I leave for the third world. 

A dopo….

Back to School Playlist

I make playlists because there is nothing in my life that better defines exact snippets in time and emotions more than music. Since I am absolutely hopeless when it comes to making it- I have assumed the occupation of listening to it.

I make playlists because these are the songs that fill the empty spaces between my words and the songs that prompt my thoughts. I record my playlists because they are awash with the music that fills the cavities left by the language I am oftentimes unable to place. Or utter. Or identify.

So this is it- the last “back to school” playlist I will ever make. (unless, of course, I decide to pursue a PhD. Ha.)

Mika- Rain

Eros Ramazzotti and Anastacia- I Belong to You

Alicia Keyes- Doesn't Mean Anything

Lily Allen- Fuck You Very Much

Beatles- Don’t Let Me Down

Black Eyed Peas- I Gotta Feeling

Michael Jackson - This is It

Kings of Leon- Notion

Adriano Celentano and Mina- Acqua e Sale

Robbie Williams- Angels

Kate Rusby- Planets (thank you, Jessica!)

Hotel Costes 2, La Suite- Sympatique, Pink Martini and Night Over Manaus, Boozoo Bajau

Fanfarlo- Fire Escape

Matt Hires- Out of the Dark

Zero Assoluto- Per Dimenticare

Jay Z feat. Mr. Hudson- Young Forever

Akon- Freedom

Indietro

Yesterday, in an excessively long car trip from Milano to Roma, a song came on the radio- It's a new release from Tiziano Ferro- link below.

There was a line in the song that made me think about my own life at the moment;

“Il mondo va veloce ma tu vai indietro”

Translation; The world moves ahead fast but you go backwards”

(It’s much better in Italian- meaning and the sound of the words.”) But anyway- I was in the car, watching the mountains of Emilia Romagna pass me by and change into the Cyprus trees and palazzos of Tuscany when this song came on. I had heard it before- in a restaurant or a store, and immediately recognized it- but for the first time, I listened to the words.

I listened and realized that the serenity I have been searching for may have never had anything to do with me at all- but that everything else around me seems to move at an accelerated rate. “Il Mondo va veloce,” as time moves ahead with a fervor I seem to be incapable of abiding by. I don't think it’s an incapacity to move along with it- I can keep up and have done so in the past. It’s more about the lack of desire to pursue what I know won’t fulfill my desires when the pursuit is over.

Possibly, it’s why I was drawn to Europe in the first place; the slower pace of life, the ability to sit down, step back and enjoy. Although, even if I have somewhat found my place in Europe- the world seems to still move to quickly and I began wondering what it is that I am resisting?

Then this song came on. And Tiziano said, “ma tu vai indietro”- and the sudden thought occurred to me that- I’ve been heading backwards.

I’m still working this thought out in my own mind- in the context of my own life…but I’ve come to the conclusion that I am not so much regressing as moving in another direction. There is this strong current pulling me one way- pulling the world in one way- from medicine, to technology to the simple act of ageing. It has been said that salmon swim upstream. And here I am, a Salmon…swimming upstream my entire life- tiring myself out.

I once had a thought that maybe I would one day eat Salmon- despite my vegetarianism- being that salmon seems to suffer their entire lives- swimming in the wrong direction- struggling against a partly invisible force until they are either caught or die.

Although I don't see myself with quite the same strain as salmon undergoes- it's a mental strain…the desire to move in one direction while the world passes by at an unalterable pace. Its like a train ride through the countryside in a rare and beautiful part of the world- everything flying by the windows is so astonishing that you want to reach out and touch it- but before the view has a chance to register in your mind- it is gone. And even worse, something else even more beautiful shows up in its place and then, without fail, that too is gone. You feel the pull to go back and understand, feel and experience the first thing you saw- the lure to move backwards. By the end of the trip- you have only gotten a taste- a mere glimpse of each landscape. It moved so quickly that even the momentary memories are now fading. All you want to do is go back, all the while trying to figure out where it is you wanted to end up. That's what I’m doing- trying to figure out where it is I would like to end up.

And here I am, going backwards against all the flashing lights pointing me forwards. Maybe its time to give in and swim with the current. Because what is the point of it all? I’m behind and I’m only making it worse for myself because the world will never change directions- time will never slow down- the current will never slow its pace.

The last line in the song, out of line with my current thinking, is “Il bene più segreto sfugge all’uomo che non guarda avanti, mai.” Translating to; the most secret escape is to not look ahead, ever.”

So as with any important decision or fork in the road- there are at least two directions to go in. One, the most reasonable and probably the sanest of options, is to move forward along with the world and two, to ignore the world that is passing me by at the speed of light.

And what’s so bad about being a Salmon? There has got to be a reason they do it- a reason they were put on this earth, and in their streams- only to face a struggle. There has got to be a reason I have spent the bulk of my life moving in another direction. Unlike the salmon, maybe I can be strong enough to beat the current- or to stop the train even for a day. 

All I Wish For and All I Need

 “…caught in between all you wish for and all you need…” is the sentiment that has been lingering in my subconscious for days. These are the lyrics of a song that my i-pod appropriately stumbled upon during one particularly long metro ride, when I realized that the words reflected exactly what it is I have been feeling since the end of classes.

It’s an incredible song…listen: 

Michael Stipe & Coldplay - In The Sun

(this is the Michael Stipe and Chris Martin version…the best).

So that’s it- I think that I am, fundamentally, caught in between what I wish for and what I need. Maybe that's the human condition. Maybe it’s my condition. I suppose there are some fortunate individuals out there whose desires are consistent with their necessities. Lucky them. I, on the other hand, have entirely polar wants and needs- where the things I long for couldn't be more different from the things I require. I’m not referring to the “givens” as in- I need water but I want champagne…I need sleep but I want waking moments.

No, those aren’t specific to just me. (Trust me, I took a poll)

Instead, I boast a wide range of conflicting interests that tend to result in daily internal struggles:

I need calmness but I want chaos. I thought that the end of school- and the space between one obligation and another would be good for me- that I would finally be at peace after a long stretch of calamity. Instead, I find myself unsettled- frantically twitching inside my own head wondering how I found myself doing nothing and how to make it stop. I know I need still surroundings- serenity- to breathe and think and walk at a pace where the people behind of me start cursing under their breaths.

Instead- I want Bangkok in the dead heat of summer- I want Manhattan at rush hour- dirty metro stations filled with people, pungent smells and the sounds of bums singing and wheels screetching- back to back taxi cabs, feet pounding the pavement and the honking of horns. I actually like the feeling of fear in the pit of my stomach, sweat rolling down the nape of my neck- I want anger and love and hate and passion and desire all at once- traffic and noise and lights and the feeling that it will never end- that the pandemonium will continue for as long as I will…or as long as I can bear it. I know I require rest, my body knows it- sleepy afternoons with the shades drawn. But it’s not what I crave- It drives me mad.

I need a relationship with someone who can wrap me in his arms and shelter me from any harm that may threaten me. I should want a relationship that I feel safe in- that is comfortable and stable. I want to want devotion and harmony- peace and comfort. What I find myself craving- and subsequently seeking- is unrest…the dramatics and ups and downs- the passionate fighting and then if I’m lucky- passionate making-up. I don’t want to know how it will end and what’s around the next corner. I want to wonder- I desire the surprises and disarray. I make messes and if I can’t create them myself, I invite them in. I wait for turmoil to find me. The commotion is what I feed off of and when all that mess turns to something good- and healthy- and normal…I get bored and move on to the next fiery rapport.

I know this is not wholesome- that I should probably go for something more nourishing…but its what I do. It’s what I require.

I need to find myself a career path that is stable and comfortable and profitable. I should want a clean cut route- a 10 year plan. I’ve been making lists of attainable goals- 401ks and tenures. The things I want have no pension plans- no road signals- no straights and narrows. I don't even have a 10-month plan. And in the case that I did- I would probably swerve off the path at month 5, crash, and a little piece of me would die.

So what I NEED- is far from what I want. And now-in the serenity and long empty daylight hours that I thought I wanted…a time where I actually have a second to sit and look back on having accomplished a part of what I needed- I am slowly figuring out that what I knew I wanted has been the same all along. I’m undeniably caught in between all I wish for and all I need….and it seems like this is going to be a lifelong affliction. 

Summatime

Summer is officially here and I’m not exactly where I thought I would be (in more ways than one...) But let's talk location:

I’m in Barcelona- carting myself to and from school, doing my best to irritate anyone I can find- requesting the various letters and documentation that I can't seem to get right on the first, second or third tries. And then rushing between the lawyers and the local authorities- in attempt to renew my residency card (NIE) and the one thing I have found is that none of the aforementioned bodies can seem to communicate on an adequately explicit level and therefore, a process that should take a few days has taken over a week. 

I HEART  Spain.

Good news though; the paperwork part should be done and I’ll find out first thing Monday morning if it worked- or if I have to start all over again.

In a few minutes, I have to register for the second time for next year’s elective courses due to the fact that there was a “technical glitch” that wiped out all the previous registration efforts. This little mishap has caused me to yet again question the classes I have chosen. As my friend mentioned, "I'm trying not to think about it but I'm not sure if I can trust the younger version of me." 

There are so many directions to go in- I could take all the things that come naturally to me and have a chilled out year with uncomplicated pressures. OR I could take all finance and econ and challenge myself by entering the 9^th circle of hell. I could register for a bunch of management and strategy courses that I could then apply to almost any career I end up in, or I could mix it up a bit and keep it interesting. I have opted for the latter two options.

As long as I will never have to do Quantitative Models again- it should be smooth sailing.

Thus far, assuming all goes well and there are no more “technical issues,” I will be taking;

Strategic Business Simulation

Family Business Management

Entrepreneurship

Corporate Citizenship

The Transnational Manager

Management of Cultural and Creative Industries

Branding

Corporate Level Strategy

Leadership Power and Influence

Geopolitics

Sounds good, huh?

Additionally, I will be joining about 40 students on the one week China study trip in September in Beijing. I can't wait. More on that later…

In the meantime, I have to pray that the Catalan officials accept my residency for another year and then I can get a move on to the China Visa (seems I have sent a large part of my life applying for Visa’s). Once that is locked down- I’ll begin planning around Beijing. I’m thinking Shanghai, Hong Kong, Tibet (if there isn’t too much unrest) and possibly a beach in Thailand.

Speaking of beaches, between the bureaucratic b.s.- I’ve officially traded escuela por la playa and have spent a good few days picking the sand out of my wedgie with my classmates who are still around Barcelona. Between beers, paddle ball and rotating our bodies like meat on skewers- I’m actually getting to know my friends again- since I haven’t had the chance to talk to any of them since pre-term.

Once the official stuff is done and I get my passport back, I’ll be heading to Italy to get started on a few projects- and of course, to eat, drink and forget even more Spanish.

Here’s the official verano 2009 playlist:       

1.     Jason Mraz- I’m Yours

2.     Buena Vista Social Club- Clocks (Coldplay, Rhythms del Mondo)

3.     Oasis- Waiting for the Rapture

4.     Adam Lambert- Mad World

5.     Plain White T’s- 1,2,3,4

6.     Sum 41- Pieces

7.     Melendi- Caminando Por La Vida

8.     Alexander Rybak- Fairytale

9.     Jack Johnson- It Seems to Me that Maybe

10. Empire of the Sun- Walking on a Dream

11. Linkin Park- Shadow of the Day

12. Macaco- Moving

13. Parov Stelar- Kiss me Twice

14. S-Tone Inc- Con Mi Sombra

15. Thievery Corporation- El Pueblo Unido

16. Manuchau- Megusta

17. Brett Dennen- The One Who Loves You the Most

Pensando

Today was a day of thoughts. 

Of course it was a school day- a day of classes and lectures and coffee breaks and me asking the person next to me what the hell the number on the board means. But it was also a day of thoughts…a day of a lot of thoughts. 

At the gym, I thought about what I would cook for dinner. On the treadmill, I decided on spinach and chickpeas. By the time I got to the mats and started stretching, the plan was finalized: I was going to make minestrone and a smoothie. 

In class, as everyone was talking about MBAT and the past weekend in Paris, I thought about the last minute decision I made to go. It was a good decision. I’m glad I went although I don't think I would do it again. MBAT (especially the Squash episode) was an upsetting reminder of why I don't compete in anything athletic- and my genetic lack of physical ability. 

In elementary school, I was always the last to be picked for dodge ball. Although it never ceased to hurt my feelings, I knew my classmates were making the right decision...I wouldn't have picked me either. 

I don't think I’m ever going to compete in sports again- if only to spare myself the humiliation. 

I thought about my future today. Actually, I started thinking about my future last night after a little bit of a breakdown and about two hours of lying in bed feeling sorry for myself. I made a list of things to do with my life and as I was brushing my teeth this morning, a light bulb went off in my head and I think I may have figured it out. For today at least. I’m still thinking about this- a plan is materializing. Wait for it.

I thought about my dad today. It’s his birthday. I think he’s 58. We haven’t spoken in almost a year. 

I thought about growing up. Actually, I tried not to think about growing up but the shocking realization (thanks facebook) that all my friends are either married, getting married, getting engaged, pregnant or giving birth- I had to think about growing up too. I thought about the fact that I am not doing a very good job of it- growing up that is. Maybe if everyone else would simply stop doing it, I wouldn't feel so burdened by the veins I see in my hands when I look down expecting to see something completely different (i.e. a 20 year old version of myself). I have old hands and my friends are all parents. Wah.

Today, I thought about love. I thought about the love I have, the love I have lost and the love that is growing everyday. I thought about love that returns…after all the wounds have healed….and how easily they open back up again. And sometimes, they hurt just as much the second time around, meaning they never really healed at all. Love sucks. Especially the latter kind.

I heard a quote by Lao Tzu. He said, “Free from desire you realize the mystery. Caught in the desire you see only the manifestations.” I thought about this. And I thought about the fact that I desire far too much- that possibly, I will never be free from desire and the manifestations that corrode my insides unremittingly. How does one who desires everything let go of longing? Any ideas?

I have to work on an operations management case right now, otherwise I would keep thinking- keep having thoughts. Maybe the abundance of schoolwork piling up is a blessing in disguise- a reprieve from all this thinking.

Lastly, of course thinking is always accompanied by music. At least in my world. Therefore, here is today’s playlist…a mix of upbeat and utterly miserable…mirroring the range of emotions that all this thinking has put me through:

1. Mika- Happy Ending

2. Sinatra- Moon River

3. Rolling Stones- I’ve Got The Blues

4. Remy Zero- Save Me

5. Melendi- Maldita Vida Loca

6. Beatles- While My Guitar Gently Weeps

7. Damien Rice- Elephant

8. Postal Service- Nothing Better

9. Vasco Rossi- Vita Spericolata

10. Jose Gonzalez- Heartbeats

11. Bob Sinclaire- Love Generation

12. Joshua Radin- Amy’s Song

13. Adriano Celentano- L'emozione Non Ha Voce

14. Pink Floyd- Shine on You Crazy Diamond

15. Manchester Orchestra- Now That We’re Home

16. Red Hot Chili Peppers- Cabron

17. Rod Stewart- Maggie May

18. Amy Winehouse- Back to Black

19. Calogero- Un Jour Parfait

20. Edith Piaf- Je Ne Regrette Rien

Mushroomy Elephants turn one!

I began writing this blog on my 27th birthday. I created it as a gift to myself- an outlet- an instrument of truth. Today I turned 28 and my blog turned one. I find it interesting to look back and see how much my life has changed in just a year- how much I have experienced. 

Reading through the posts- and the transformation of my thoughts and ideas and realities- it seems as though blog-years are more like dog-years. I aged 365 days- but from this view- it seems as though I've lived seven.

Anyways- onwards and upwards. 

Happy Birthday Bloggy (and to me!)

m

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.

Las Canciones De Mi Vida

I recently moaned about the lack of time I have to listen to music. This is a mockery considering that up until this point, music has played a sizeable role in my life. I fear that in the end of this whole MBA/Barca experience, I will not be able to find a list of music with which to compile a soundtrack. 

I’ve always managed to assemble these anthologies- from the boom-box era when I sat around until the radio played what I wanted to hear- and I would rush to push “record” before I missed too much of the song, to burning CD’s that I would later listen to and consequently scratch due to excessive “repeat” on my disk-man, and now the simple pleasure of labeling playlists in my itunes- there have always been compilations of significant songs that serve as the souvenirs of momentous times in my life…

And of all the significant times I have had, I am sure that this is going to be up there with the best of them. A memory without music is a memory lost. For this phase of my life, I believe that would be the biggest shame imaginable. 

To that end, I began compiling a playlist. It’s comprised of the songs I listen to as I walk in the rain (whoever said it never rains in Barca was lying) to the bus stop. Some of the songs are the songs that randomly come on my i-pod as I sit outside the school waiting for my next class to begin, thinking to myself, “this is exactly how I feel,” whether the words match or not. Because with music- its rarely about the words- it’s the fact that every note, every melody, every chord touches something in your soul and makes you feel connected somehow to something you cant see, or touch, or explain- but you know is there. Certain songs possess the beats and rhythms I have danced to at 6 a.m. in Barca’s discotecas- when I should have been dressing for class. Others in hotel rooms on the Amalfi Coast or fashion-week parties in Paris. And a few are the songs that play in my head without any explanation- they just begin out of nowhere and linger for days.

And so these songs will become my soundtrack- a vehicle to carry me back to here- at some point down the road- in a moment of clarity or sadness or nostalgia when I want to feel how I feel now- where I am now- where, despite the rain and the lack of free time, I am extraordinarily happy.

Lastly, there are songs on this list that my best friend, Dana has sent me- in a package full of mixes. Not only did she listen to me when I made an offhand remark about not having a soundtrack- but she heard me...because the two of us have innumerable soundtracks together. She gets it...she named the mixes “Barca Mix 1, 2, and so on” She gave me the gift of the music that I haven’t had time on my own to discover. 

So here goes, the beginning of Barca memories via la musica….

1. Regina Spektor, Samson
2. The Killers, Human
3. Amos Lee, Baby I Want You
4. Ray LaMontagne, You Are The Best Thing
5. U2, Running To Stand Still
6. Leona Naess, Ghosts In The Attic
7. Jehro, All I Want
8. Coldplay, Viva la Vida
9. Rocha, Ya No Te Veria Mas
10. The Verve Pipe, Freshman
11. Eddie Vedder, Society
12. Jewel, Barcelona
13. Me’shell Ndegoecello, Beautiful
14. Kings of Leon, Cold Desert
15. Freedom Dub, Emotional Rescue (Hotel Costes 9)
16. Moby, Dream About Me
17. Patrizio Buanne, Luna Mezz o’ Mare
18. Damien Rice, 9 Crimes
19. Amy Winehouse, Back to Black
20. Yves Larock and Jaba, Rise Up (pref. club mix)
21. Black, Wonderful Life
22. Adele, Hometown Glory
23. PhonJaxx, Sensual
24. Coldplay, Lovers in Japan
25. Laurent Wolf, No Stress
26. Ben Harper, Fight Outta You
27. Juanes, La Camisa Nera
28. Thievery Corporation, Beautiful Drug
29. Shakira, Estoy Aqui
30. Black Kids, Love Me Already
31. Stephan Pompougnac, The Ballad of Sacco and Vanzetti

32. MGMT, Kids

33. GlasVegas, Daddy's Gone

34. Shout Out Louds, Very Loud

35. Kings of Leon, Use Somebody

Fight Outta Me

It’s quite clear that I have very little time to indulge in some of the small pleasures I used to enjoy on a regular basis. I’m not complaining. This is actually OK with me (at least today it is)- partially because I am so busy that I have no time to think about missing the things I am missing. It is also "ok" with me because I have found new pleasures- and these are serving as replacements for some of the lost ones.

Despite this predicament, I have become somewhat adept at discovering little pockets of time in which I can pander to my rudimentary desires. For example; writing during one of the 10 daily coffee breaks. 

Additionally, I go to the gym. I try to go to the gym. I don’t go to the gym to go to the gym per-se, I go to the gym(I cant believe I am admitting this) partially for the opportunity to listen to music. I miss music- my music- because buried within my music are the notes and sounds and lyrics that make up my memories. 

I have always said it, I stand by it, and I am sure I will elaborate on this point in the future. 

But right now- there is no music. (real music). So ten years down the road, when I am filling my days with other activities, surrounded by different people, different air, different architecture- what will I listen to in order to bring me back here? To this classroom, these streets, my friends- the restaurants I frequent. The color of the sky at dusk- the noise of the motos rolling by underneath my balcony… 

Moreover- how will I bring myself back to the sensory components of this experience? The mixture of mental, physical, and emotional- the overpowering fusion of being overwhelmed, sleepless, yet charged in every sense of the word- rundown and oftentimes disheartened, but extraordinarily happy- fulfilled on one side, void on the other…Barcelona- the emotions I associate with Barcelona. What music will define Barcelona for me in the future?

Maybe that’s something I need to work on. 

Either way, I went to the gym yesterday and my ipod was on random- random like the traffic in Barca, random like the selection of MBA students in ESADE, random like my life.

And a song by Ben Harper came on- “Fight Outta You”- from his last album, Lifeline (which by the way, is a fantastic album).

I was having a “down moment” and Mr. Harper was the perfect complement to the end of my 16 hour day, not understanding financial accounting or managerial statistics, and clashing with group members over immaterial concepts. I had never really listened to the song before- and although it doesn’t 100% apply to my mental state at the time- it does a pretty good job.

So below is a gift to my fellow MBAers- all those who are struggling with one of the many aspects of this new life as well. "There's always someone younger, someone with more hunger, don't let them take the fight outta you..."

xx

Oh Boy...

The first line of The Beatles, “A Day in the Life” has been ceaselessly running through my head for the past 24 hours:

I read the news today, oh boy…

This incident isn’t a great mystery to me, as I’m pretty sure it is a product of my subconscious letting me know that I’m not the first person, nor will I be the last, to become depressed by the state of the world.

It all began at around this time yesterday morning.

I was sitting in a comfortable, sun-drenched chair, reading the newspaper (Financial Times, to be exact), with the TV on in the background (FOX news, oddly enough).
While trying to figure out exactly what Exchange Traded Funds are (I’m still not sure) and proud of myself for recognizing “indices” as another way of expressing “indexes,” I overheard the modulated news voices in the background. Some newscaster or another was discussing the inevitable end of Hillary’s (by far, the best potential candidate we had come up with in years) campaign and the fact that Obama (ugh) will be the Democratic frontrunner against a septuagenarian who would like to stay in Iraq. Next story was about the fanatical polygamists in Texas- which was naturally followed by oil prices and America’s deteriorating economy (although everyone is too scared to call it what it is: a recession.)

With my brain actually hurting from doing my very best internalize the pros and cons of the multiple methods of index replications, I freaked out about (going to) business school and my lack of related understanding, and quickly turned to the New York Times article on the death of Yves Saint Laurent.
Fashion- I can do.

But even that depressed me. I may understand it, but I was still reading about death. The loss of someone so talented that brought even more splendor into the public eye- and that was the best I could do? Death?

Before I managed to turn the television off, there was one last news brief that managed to invade the room I was sitting in- and that was about the car bombing at the Danish embassy in Islamabad.

I threw the remote against the opposing wall so hard that the back fell off and the batteries rolled over and stopped at my feet as though bowing in servitude. I left my pile of newspapers strewn around the floor in a massacre of words and torn pages. I couldn’t handle it. I was so wound up that I found I was unable to eat or concentrate on anything I was meant to be doing. This is uncharacteristic for me- as I always remain aware of the state of the world BUT I don’t let the things that are out of my control affect me. I do what I can, take the necessary steps towards being able to do more in the future, and live my life the best way I know possible.

Yesterday however, it got to me. It all got to me- everything that has been building up: eight years of an idiot running (and ruining) the country, an environment sending out signals that it’s dying- that we are killing it- and is almost past the point of no return, wars, extremists, unnecessary death, hatred, incurable illness, hunger, natural disasters, tyrannical leaders…I could go on. I could go on forever.

And then, as music has a way of calming souls, The Beatles came to mind…and either Paul or John- Or Ringo or George- wrote down his thoughts one day- consistent with mine, as he read the news today, oh boy- and went on with his life…and made the world a better place with his contribution.

And hopefully-one day- I will be able to do that too.

Mom's Day Music

Today was the first Mother's Day in nine years that my sister and I were both in Miami and able to celebrate with our Mother together. It is probably the last Mother's Day we will share for a while as well.

Besides spending far too long in the cards section of the local drug store and eating enormous amounts of food, we drove up to Boca Raton to spend the afternoon with the rest of the family at my grandmother's condo.

I had made my mom a C.D. a while ago of songs I found (new and old) that I thought she would love- and it was the soundtrack of our two hour journey there and back.

Below is the playlist:
(and Happy Mother's Day!)

1. In The Sun, Michael Stipe and Chris Martin
2. Book of Love, Peter Gabriel
3. Hey There Delilah, Plain White T's
4. Wonderful World, James Morrison
5. Hold You in My Arms, Ray Lamontagne
6. Blessed, Brett Dennen
7. Congratulations, Blue October
8. Apologize, One Republic
9. Chariot, Gavin DeGraw
10. Set The Fire To The Third Bar, Snow Patrol
11. Crown of Love, The Arcade Fire
12. Portions for Foxes, Rilo Kiley
13. The Living Years, Mike and the Mechanics
14. Eve, The Apple of My Eye, Bell X1
15. Bones, The Killers
16. Summer Skin, Death Cab For Cutie
17. Not Fire Not Ice, Ben Harper

"Weep Not For The Memories"

One of my favorite parts of being in Miami is the opportunity to look through all my old boxes and albums and whatever else it is that I have left for my mother to deal with. Every so often, she implores me to clean out my closet and leaves me bins in which I am meant to put my things in order to be brought to external storage units. However, during the first big move after le divorce, I put vestiges of my youth into these “supposed” storage units and I haven’t seen them since- not even a trace. Personally, I believe that these units exist along similar lines of the “farm” that my bunny, Herman went to when I was at school one day in 5th grade…I never heard from him again either.

Needless to say, none of my snow-globes or dried out corsages, however tragically comical they are, will be seeing the insides of the removal bins.
Instead, each time I come home, my room becomes a war-zone strewn with dresses I’ve owned for 10 years and will never wear, and faded notes on lined paper passed to me by friends resulting in after-school detention for bad behavior.

Any way you look at it, I’m undoubtedly a packrat…and proud of it.
Who else can say that they have an entire bookshelf dedicated purely to the handwritten journals chronicling their life from the age of 7 and on? I love this sh*t!

As writing has always been a big part of my life, so has music. Therefore, I took the liberty of pulling out one of my first booklets of C.D.’s and had a little reunion with myself on the way to the dentist.
I found the collection absolutely hilarious and I thought I would share it.

Today’s afternoon playlist was as follows:

1. Under the Bridge, Red Hot Chili Peppers
2. The One To Be With You, Mr. Big
3. Always, Bon Jovi
4. Three Little Pigs, Green Jelly
5. From a Distance, Bette Midler (this was my first ever CD!!)
6. Loser, Beck
7. Weak, SWV
8. Again, Janet Jackson
9. We Didn’t Start The Fire, Billy Joel (I actually wrote out every word of this song so I could learn it. I can still recite it beginning to end…)
10. Bohemian Rhapsody, Queen
11. Closer to Fine, Indigo Girls
12. Jack and Diane, John Mellencamp
13. I Wanna Dance With Somebody, Whitney Houston (crack head)
14. Straight Up, Paula Abdul
15. Let’s Talk About Sex, Salt-n-Pepa
16. Jump, Kriss Kross
17. Come As You Are, Nirvana
18. Informer, Mr. Snow
19. Waterfalls, TLC
20. To Zion, Lauryn Hill
21. Crazy, Aerosmith
22. What if God Was One of Us, Joan Osbourne
23. Wonderwall, Oasis
24. End of the Road, Boys II Men
25. Life Goes On, 2pac
26. I’ll Be Missing You, Puff Daddy
27. I Will Remember You, Sarah McLachlan

p.s. my most treasured mixes could not be played due to the fact that the tape is now obsolete- and my many painstaking hours of recording songs directly from the radio are now worthless. I demand a revival!

San Valentino

The most widely accepted version of the legend of St. Valentine’s Day is as follows;

St. Valentine was a priest that served during the third century in Rome under Claudius II. When the Emperor decided that single men made better soldiers than those with families, he outlawed marriage for young men. Valentine believed that this was an injustice and defied Claudius by continuing to perform secret marriages between young lovers. When his actions were discovered, Claudius ordered that Valentine be put to death. Once deceased, Valentine became a Saint due to his martyr status.
Basically, he died for love.

It’s a nice story. I’m not sure I believe it. I’m not a Catholic anyway.

I'm sure we all concur that Valentine’s Day is a token “Hallmark Holiday”- a money making machine and an excuse for girls to demand expensive gifts from their boyfriends. On the upside, it’s an opportunity to celebrate love- and who doesn’t love love? I’ve never had a spectacular Valentine’s Day. This is actually fine with me- I believe that love should be celebrated every day.

My best Valentine’s Days have actually been my single v-days; going out with the girls, cursing love, and drinking just enough to not care about all the couples in love surrounding us.
My most memorable Valentine’s Day was in fourth grade. My mom gave my sister and me tennis bracelets with our breakfast and my housekeeper sewed some red heart-shaped patches onto my favorite pink dress. I got to school and ate so much chocolate that I puked in physical education.
I didn’t say it was a good day- it was just a memorable day.

I must also give a shout-out to Junior High School Carnation Drives. Carnations (available in a choice of red, white or pink) were sold to students in support of some club or charity. 50 Cents would get you a flower, a little card to indicate the recipient, and a guaranteed delivery on Valentine’s Day. The entire school-day revolved around the period when the carnation deliveries came. The amount of carnations you received was an attest to how cool you were. Year after year, I would hope that the popular kids would send me carnations. Moreover, I had always wanted a “secret admirer” (preferably someone not on the debate team) to make themselves known to me with the delivery of this “filler flower.” If I remember correctly, this never happened. The most carnations I received in a given year was probably around ten- and I wouldn’t be surprised if five of them were from my mom. What can I say? I was a huge geek.

I got cooler as I got older though- when it didn’t count as much, of course. Three years ago, I received a fair number of bouquets on Valentine’s Day at my office (this was during my New York dating days), and I wrote this horribly unappreciative (yet incredibly true) e-mail to my best friend;

“Another bouquet just arrived- I had to walk all the way downstairs to pick them up...I hate getting flowers. They die. And they smell when you don’t throw them out in time. And then...you feel obliged to keep the vase because it would be wasteful to throw it away, but seriously- what the hell are you ever going to use it for? It’s not like any of us are adult enough to actually go out and purchase fresh flowers at the market. Then, you spend all the time cleaning the grime off the vase only to watch it collect dust under your desk until one day you have a leg spasm and it shatters everywhere. If you don’t sustain horrific injuries, you merely have a bunch of broken glass to clean up while hoping that no shards went into your open disk drive. And honestly- who actually smells their flowers? Yeah, they're nice but are you going to sit at your desk all day with your nose stuck between the petals? And if you do- it’s pleasant for a moment until you pull your face away only to have your chin and collar stained by orangey-yellow pollen. Fun, fun.”

I still feel the same way about flowers. I hate them. If only I had received them when it counted- in 5th period Spanish Class 14 years ago!

Valentine’s Day does provide an excuse to eat gratuitous amounts of chocolate and make sappy love mixes...which I am perfectly content to sit at home doing. So, on a positive note, here is last year’s Valentine’s Day mix...it was a good one;

1. Kissing You, Des’ree
2. All I Want is You, U2
3. Romeo and Juliet, Dire Straits
4. I will Follow you Into the Dark, Death Cab for Cutie
5. Kingdom Come, Coldplay
6. Dream About Me, Moby
7. Lay Lady Lay, Bob Dylan
8. She’s Got A Way, Billy Joel
9. More Than Words, Extreme
10. Wonderful Tonight, Eric Clapton
11. This Year’s Love, David Gray
12. Better Together, Jack Johnson
13. Original Sin, Elton John
14. The Water Is Wide, Jewel, Sarah McLachlan and Indigo Girls
15. Heaven Out of Hell, Elisa
16. Amazing, Aerosmith

I hope everyone has a wonderful Valentine’s Day, whether or not you choose to celebrate it. As for me, I’m eating chocolate and letting my boyfriend off the hook.

But if I don’t get a card- he’ll be in trouble.

xx