Coffee

Phonecalls, deadlines, emails

The constant beeping of

one machine or another

Text messages or meetings

Lots of people to meet

Even more people to be

The names are dropped

Secret handshakes in the backroom

To-do lists extended

Late nights; early mornings

I want to be a black hoodie

Dark sunglasses

Running free and nameless

An inconsequential member

of the human race

With little in the way of

 identifying characteristics

And that “anonymous” type of face

No time to indulge in fantasies

Where’s my coffee?

Red lipstick, black suit

a knack for running in heels

Phone and neck attachments

Shoulders constantly creeping upward

Ravens circling over my head

But no matter; only time for

Conference calls and deliberations

Too forward focused

Balance failing; dark circles

More wrinkles

Shrug responsibilities

In all the ways you know you won’t

Wanderlust escape artist

A knack for running barefoot

Through sunny beaches

I want to be an endless Sunday morning

Reading quiet with dog at feet

Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me

Kettle warming

For my chamomile tea

Validation sought

Over “I’m just too busy…”

Overextensions 

Acting out accordingly

When’s the last time

I saw my family?

I gotta run, I gotta get this done

Forfeiting personal needs

For the sake of each company

Don’t keep much company

No real company

When’s the last time you were held?

Like, really?

No matter now,

Where’s my coffee?

Where’s my coffee?

The Chicago Project: Validation and Humility

This past weekend I went to King’s Spa with some girlfriends of mine.  King’s Spa is a Korean spa so for the first part of the experience you get completely nude in a room full of other women to enjoy a steam room, showers and hot tubs.

King's Spa 

My girlfriends came up naked and we all looked at each other for a moment before one friend said: look at us; we’re beautiful.  We – as a whole – not based on this superficial notion of beauty but based on our willingness to share this experience with each other.

That set the tone: validation.

My friend has this tattoo on her arm: it says: do not seek outside of yourself in Latin.  I pondered this as an array of different bodies walked past me.  Body-positive experiences are something I’ve been intentional about having lately starting with the naked bike ride and taking my next steps with my yoga practice.

Throughout the evening I pondered the notion of validation within our society and seeking it from external factors.  I’m very guilty of this – as we all are.  I seek validation from the men I keep in my back pocket to make me feel attractive or the books I read to prove my intellectual prowess and the social circles I maintain to show some sort of status. Still, I keep coming to the same conclusion:  when you lose the ego you feel no need to be validated by others.

Humility is honest; it’s vulnerable and damn it, it’s scary.  It’s sitting naked in a hot tub and feeling at peace.  It’s telling the truth even when it hurts you to do so.  It’s smiling at a stranger on the street with no expectation of receiving a smile or recognition in return.  It’s walking into a room with quiet confidence knowing you have nothing to prove. 

It’s also very hard work as we fight against our conditioning in this society.  The ego likes to keep one safe.  The ego keeps my sunglasses on as I follow the beat of my heels hitting pavement attuned to my ipod making no human connections walking down my street.  The genuine me, however, wants to be honest, vulnerable and notice how lonely everyone really is and say, it’s okay, look at us; we’re beautiful.

We Found Love in a Hopeless Place...

I was out with some friends hitting up various nighttime establishments.  At the end of the night, I wound up at this upscale lounge; the type that has bottle service and the women’s skirts barely cover their behind wearing shoes they can barely walk in not to mention dance in.  Not my type of joint, generally speaking, but a kind stranger handed my friend and I a vodka cranberry each as we walked in so we thought we’d go with the flow and make the best of it.

That is until I went into the restroom and overheard the conversation.  Some young woman was discussing getting her third boob job and I looked at the bathroom attendant and whispered into her ear: “I’m so sorry you have to listen to this bullshit all night.”  She chuckled and I went back upstairs.

I found my friend and then the exit and as I am waiting for a cab the bathroom attendant comes out and she thanked me for what I said; that it was hard to hear these women complain about their lives sometimes and that her best friend just lost a baby yesterday and that she was just so tired…

All I could do was hug a stranger on some street corner at 2:30 a.m. as my only reply. 

Poltical Manifesto

I know people who believe being patriotic means listening to all the messages the media sends us.  It means embracing capitalism in its current form, enjoying steak and potatoes and apple pie and supporting any big business because after all, corporations are so American.

I know people that are afraid to say what they really want to say when it comes to politics because they fear the repercussions on their career, status and circle of friends.  I felt fooled into that role for a minute and then I remembered what it was to be an American in the light of this mass movement: Occupy Wall Street.

Being American means you have a right to an opinion, a voice and the right to protest your government when you believe they are wrong. 

I’m not going to pretend to be intimately involved with the movement.  I’m not and in fact, only recently have I begun to pay attention.  What’s so unique about this movement is that it’s not a movement based on a single issue, but rather on the greater discontent of society as a whole.  It’s a multi-generational movement and yet I can understand those Gen Yers out there the most.

I was born in 1984.  I came of age in a period of disillusionment.  I have few friends that didn’t owe at least 15 grand by the time they were 22 and shot into the “real world” without much cushioning and consistent calls from loan collectors.  I was born into a world of shifting powers and globalization all of which contributed to my worldview.

This however, does not hinder my vision of the world I’d like to live in.  I thought I would breathe some life into this vision and share it with you.  Rather than say what is wrong with society, which I think we have a tendency to do too often, I am going to write what I’d like to see.  Politicians – take note:

1.      .  I want the people we elect to office to look more like real Americans.  This means they have average American salaries (the real average, not the congressional average which is NINE TIMES that of an American).  This of course, means that there must be political reform as to how we run our elections which can cost up to millions of dollars in media buys, marketing and staffing.   I want our politicians not just to mirror Americans economically but also racially and by gender as well.  I want more parity in our elected officials because I don’t believe I can be represented by a 65 year old millionaire white male. 
2.         I want universal health care for all.  How do we do this from a budget standpoint?  Here’s a suggestion: invest in holistic health care practitioners that address the underlying problem rather than the symptoms.  All healthcare practitioners should prescribe as much preventative medicine as possible.  This however, cannot happen if people cannot afford to get regular check-ups.  We are the ONLY industrialized nation in the WORLD that does not have universal health care for its people.  What does that say about the priorities of one of the richest countries in the world if it can’t even invest in the health of its people?
3.         I want less spending on war and more investment in green technology, education and small businesses.  It becomes a huge problem when the military industrial complex becomes far more powerful than the citizens, something I fear has already happened in our country. 
4.         I want my future children (if I have them – still concerned about the world’s overpopulation issue – largest threat on earth to mother earth) to grow up in a better society where are differences are celebrated rather than similarities rewarded.  What I mean by that is for people to stop talking about diversity and to live it; this means more diverse individuals in positions of power as authors, politicians, business leaders etc.
5.          I want a lot less sexism in every single media outlet worldwide.
6.          I want a lot less sexism in every single boardroom worldwide.
7.          I want the farming industry to stop putting chemicals in the soil.
8.          I want any animal farmed for its flesh to live full lives where they roam free, see sun, and eat what they are intended to eat i.e. cows eating grass instead of being force-fed corn which they can’t digest, etc. and killed with compassion for their being.  I want the FDA to regulate HUMANE practices across the board.  As Gandhi said: “The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.”  
9.           More than anything, I want my American peers to rise up and do something about what they see wrong in this world.  That is what inspires me the most about Occupy Wall Street.  People standing up for what they believe in is what our nation is built on.  It’s not shopping malls and mass consumerism; it’s not corn-fed cows and hormone injected chickens, it is democracy.  This nation is built on the belief that majority rules and that belief is being challenged by the tiny minority.  I don’t want to live in a country where everyone is too comfortable, stagnant and placated on their i-pads and playstations anymore.  I demand much more.

Thank you to the OWS movement for the inspiration!  Everyone else, do with this, what you will and take action – join a movement, go vegan, spend less time watching television and more time campaigning for issues close to your heart.  Donate time or money to what you believe in and leave this world better than when you came into it. 

Love,

Jen

A patriotic American Citizen

Day 19: Staying out of Hospitals

One thing very few people know about me is that I HATE hospitals.  Yes, I know no one really likes them but I think I hate them more than most people.  I loathe the smell.  I hate watching the half dead – their yellowed faces waiting in wheelchairs attached to complicated machines, the tubes of fluids, white coats, white walls….all of it.  You walk in there and it’s as though you've crossed between the world of the living and the world of the dead.  I’m particularly sensitive to this change.

I had a meeting at a hospital this past week.  In a weird way it reminded me of why I’m fasting.

My mother thinks that I’m doing it to lose weight  but it’s not about the weight.  Dropping weight is definitely a welcome side effect but not the purpose.  The reason is so that I don’t end up between worlds: in purgatory with white walls and white coats.  I’m doing this fast for my health.

Allow me to explain: I don’t have many fears.  Spiders could crawl all over my skin, I’m not afraid of walking around in dark forests at night – I find it riveting.  I have lived alone in deserts, owned snakes etc.  One thing I do fear is not being in control of my body or health.  I fear cancer; diseases so severe I cannot cure them of my own accord.  I fear having to be bedridden in the world of the half dead.

I strongly believe and have always believed that what we put into our bodies creates health or disease.  I became a vegetarian when I was 15.  When I was 18 I explored veganism (poorly – do not do this when you don’t know about nutrition and are living off dorm food).  The past few years I’ve teetered back into eating the occasional poultry dish (but never beef or pork) while remaining primarily a pescetarian.

One thing we don’t think about nearly enough is that the meat you eat today is not the same meat that your grandfather ate on his farm.  The fruits and vegetables you enjoy today are not the same that your great grandparents grew.  These are chemical-laden products produced for mass consumption and profit.

Here’s some food for thought: if you don’t drink organic milk chances are you are being exposed to the Bovine Growth Hormone (BGH), an artificial hormone given to cows to increase dairy production.  The United States of America is the ONLY industrialized nation where milk produced with the aid of BGH is allowed to be sold for human consumption (thank you Monsanto lobbyists).  Let’s think about this – rapid growth means rapid cell production.  Rapid cell production…isn’t that like cancer? 

Beef cows get treated with similar hormones to develop more meat because more meat = more $$.  We’ve all seen the heart breaking videos of chickens with overdeveloped breasts that they topple over.  Yes, you may say I’m crazy for fasting for 40 days and detoxifying my body by living off fresh vegetable and fruit juices, but considering you just had Burger King for dinner (and some hormones that probably cause cancer), maybe I’m not so crazy after all. 

The idea of a juice detox or any fasting detoxification program is to give your digestive system a break.  A liquid diet saves it the energy and constant work of digesting your food so your body’s energy can be spent on cleaning out the other organs, revitalizing cells, etc.  Juicing maintains 95% of the nutrients from the fruit or vegetable which means your body gets tons of micro nutrients to help your cells stay healthy.

So perhaps I am crazy or perhaps I'll avoid hospital beds and machinery a little bit better than others.  I can only hope.

Why I Really DO Love My Solo Life

What the hell does it say about me when my friends send me articles like this:

 

 “Lol-this article made me think of you: Ladies if You Want to Pick Up, Wait Until You're Ovulating."

  

I guess the advice is useful and from an evolutionary and genetic standpoint, it makes sense, but WHAT exactly do my friends think of me if articles like this remind them of me?

I went to my parents’ house a few weeks ago. We went out to eat and afterwards my mother decided that we should go to the huge statue of the Virgin Mary (Virgén de Guadalupe) to pray. I’m not one to pray to Christian relics (read more here), but she’s my mother so I reluctantly sat on the bench with her looking at the flowers, candles and souvenirs: the physical embodiment of heartfelt prayers left at the Virgin’s concrete feet.

I watched my mother’s face as she focused hard on something. I asked her what she was praying for thinking that maybe her cousin’s passing had weighed heavier in her mind than I had originally thought.

She turned to me and said, “I am praying that you find a husband soon.”  

Oh.my.GOD!!! I didn’t know whether I should burst out laughing at this statement or take it seriously and thus take a more sensitive approach. I couldn’t hold it. I laughed. Hard.

“Yenny, you know that this is how Juliana found her husband. Her mother prayed and prayed to La Virgén and now look, she is getting married.”

“Oh, I thought she was getting married because she’s seven months pregnant, but I see your point, it must be because La Virgén willed it.”  

“Yenny, la Virgén makes miracles happen.”

What the….?!?! Me finding a boyfriend is not a miracle! Oh dear God, is it? Maybe, considering the shitty dates I’ve had lately. Well, in that case, I guess I used to be a little miracle machine – like for more than 6 years of my life and I can tell you it didn’t feel THAT miraculous.

I had a conversation with some single friends of mine regarding everyone else’s’ emphasis on relationships. I didn’t notice when I was first starting my career how everyone always asked if I had a boyfriend. I must not have noticed because I gave them the right answer. I was always in a relationship; as such, people reacted very warmly to this asking me for details about whatever boyfriend I had at the time. It almost seemed comforting for others around me to know I had a boyfriend, especially my family, despite whether or not they liked the guy I was dating at the time.

Now all of a sudden someone asks and you say you’re not seeing anyone with a huge smile on your face and there’s still that silent awkward little pause or people say: oh don’t worry, you’ll find someone. Really? Oh good, I was worried that I was going to die alone with those nine cats that I’m allergic to in a lonely apartment on the south side with no friends and no children to take me to a nursing home. Thank you for reassuring that that won’t happen to me.

In these blogs, I feel as though maybe I focus on the bad parts of being single like the horrible dates, but truth be told, no one likes to read about the good ones because that’s boring. Also, I don’t go on good dates because I care too much about the blog and you fine people. 

But today I’d like to list the things I love about not being in a relationship:

• I have made SO MUCH art! I’m talking drawings, music, writing…
• I come and go as I please with no need to explain anything to anyone. Save for my job, I’m truly free to do what I want when I want without need for discussions or compromises.
• I’ve met so many new friends that I feel like I will know for life – some from having gone on dates with them and realizing that amazingly lovely friend vibe rather than a romantic one. Not being attached to a relationship opens doors for many other types of relationships to enter your life.
• I love finding comfort in feeling unsettled. It drives me more than most things in life. I am completely portable at all times. The world is my oyster – I can roam through it at any time seeking only to please and care for myself.
• There’s a sense of complete uncertainty that authors and poets romanticize in their memoirs that seems more prevalent when you’re single. The kind where you don’t know exactly where you’re going or how you’re going to get there, but you know you’re going somewhere. Freedom breeds a certain type of youth regardless of age where the ride of your life could be parked on the corner of the dance studio you pass by or it could be waiting for you downstairs from your favorite coffee shop.
• It’s summer and everyone tends to wear less clothing and since you’re single, you can look AND touch.  
• You actually have time between your job and career oriented activities to nurture your hobbies, go back to school, and hang out with new and old friends.
• You don’t feel dependent on anyone. You are a full and whole person on your own. Regardless of how independent you may feel in your relationship there will always be shared activities and things that the other person takes over doing for you because they’re better at it (like dividing household chores or finances or even being the “strong one” usually). When you’re alone there’s a growth that occurs that is unparalleled to growing with another person. Many times it’s from having to do those tasks you don’t like; or having to be that person that you’re not best at being (like the serious one when you thrive on being the fun one).
• I love being my own best company and being completely content without missing anyone else when I’m alone.

Happiness in a Bottle?

I was in Missouri this past weekend for the True/False film festival. The True/False film festival is a documentary film festival that I love going to every year. While I was there I was fortunate enough to meet this Jordanian psychiatrist. We stayed up until 2 a.m. one night smoking hookah, drinking wine and talking about life. He had moved from Jordan to the U.S. as an adult and I could tell he was still trying to understand Americans.

We talked about America and his profession. He told me the majority of his patients didn’t like talk therapy. They were obsessed with instant gratification. “They want pills. They want to numb out whatever they are feeling so not to deal with it. You should see the looks of anger when I write them a referral for some talk therapy rather than pills.”

“I could see that,” I replied. We are not accustomed to having to go through the work of our mind or emotions to find happiness.”

“What is this happiness?” He asks. “Americans are so obsessed with the idea of happiness. They want to be happy all the time. It’s impossible, what one should aim for is to be peaceful and content. You can’t be happy all the time.”

I had never thought about a culture obsessed with happiness, but since that conversation I realize how much it’s sold to us. A new car will make you happy. A granite countertop will make you happy. Things will make you happy. Pills will make you happy. We are obsessed with instant gratification.

I start to wonder if it’s a unique phenomenon. Other cultures must want to find happiness too but perhaps they are more comfortable in the placid and tranquil contentment. Perhaps they don’t seek the highs we do.

I wouldn’t know; I’m American.

Online dating and the American way...

I was talking to my friend the other night about dating and how unnatural it felt at this point in our lives.

“I know what I want now, and I’m not sure if that is making things easier or harder for me.  I meet people I am mildly interested in, but no one that I really feel an intense connection with.  It’s hard to know whether I want to go on a second or third date with them…I mean I like them and could potentially feel more for them but I don’t feel anything so much initially.”

I remind her about how we met in college and how it wasn’t necessarily this instant bond we created; it took a lot of time to build a strong relationship together.  “That’s just it,” I say.  “Relationships take time; creating emotional bonds with another person not only takes energy, but also time.”

We talked then about American culture.  We Americans are not used to taking time to achieve what we want.  We are a very quantitative culture.  Conversations with my girlfriends soon become one of: well, we’ve been on four dates so far and he has called me 8 times and texts me at least once a day etc.  We have this little habit of trying to quantify what it is to have a relationship, to be cared for, to justify our feelings.

I just saw this Ke$ha music video where she featured the dating site, Plenty of Fish.  Dating sites have become very popular among Generation Y, the generation that tends to be more comfortable with technology.  It seems so counterintuitive to me that human beings are trying to date in this way.  To each his or her own when it comes to dating, but to me sorting through a bunch of men’s pictures and profiles (while I really wish it were that easy) seems so unnatural.  After all, I think my most successful relationships didn’t have the qualities I could pick out so easily on a list, but each in his own way had something I needed to experience at that moment of my life, whether or not I was aware I needed it and I ended up lasting years with them.  I think we have a tendency to think we know what we want, but do we know what we need?

Even the idea of choosing a boyfriend or girlfriend like we're picking out our furniture feels awkward, and yet I feel it's a uniquely American thing.  As analytical beings we want to measure our options and choose the one that fits our individual needs best, but I'd be wary when it comes to doing this with relationships.  Relationships are not business transactions that can be measured so simply.

Quantifying when it comes to relationships isn’t always a bad thing.  Much can be told of the seriousness of a relationship when it surpasses the one year mark or the five year mark.  However, when you are just casually dating, you cannot expect to have deep feelings of trust developed after just three dates.  That being the case, how can one discern whether or not to continue seeing someone or not?  Who is worth the time investment?  Who isn’t?  

On a side note there is this blog that is HILARIOUS and superbly written that I highly recommend you check out about online dating.   Two cousins share their experiences dating online and then document the good, the bad and the ugly for your entertainment: http://www.thisonetimeonmatch.blogspot.com/

I am Mexican; I am also American. I am both.

Last night I made some friends.  This Aussie girl named Tash.  Tash is 29 years old.  She lives a rather transient lifestyle.  She will go from place to place and stop in spots where she could make money working in the hospitality industry in whatever country she happens to be in, saves up quite a bit and then moves on and travels for months at a time again.  Last country she worked in was Canada and on her itinerary next is Oaxaca, Mexico; Bali, Indonesia (for a family reunion); then back home to Australia.

Matt is from Israel and I swear he has the most beautiful eyes you´ve ever seen.  He used to be a dancer and you could tell when you do yoga with him.  He´s from Israel and just got done with his mandatory military service there and is travelling a bit before going to medical school.  He is a darling and very sweet.

There are others...Amanda, the Londoner with a slight Cockney accent is hilarious.  Then there´s the cute, calm and reserved German boy whose name I don´t remember.  There´s Simon from Sweden who has red hair.  It´s almost like the U.N. in here.  Just listening to the lodge in the morning I hear a myriad of accents and languages: French, German, Israeli, Italian...  There are many people here from Spain, Argentina, Venezuela as well.

The crowd is primarily younger in their 20s and 30s but there are quite a few older couples here too.  Its so diverse and tolerant execept for one thing...

The lodge is circular and all around there are flags from different countries: India, Cuba, Jamaica, Canada, Mexico...all countries in North America are represented except for one.

"Whoa why are all the seagulls flying over here?" asks Tash as we lay out on the beach.
"Probably some stupid American is feeding them." Replies Isha.
"Hey, guys, um...I´m an American..." I say laughing hysterically.
"Oh shit, sorry!" They reply.

It´s no biggie.  I get their sentiment.  I understand. Furthermore I´m on an island right outside of Cancun.  Cancun...the land where Americans come and drink until sunrise leaving their vomit on the streets for the Mexican people to clean it up.  Cancun, the land where Americans stay in one hotel the whole time and never leave.  Cancun...the land where Americans would rather swim in the pool than the ocean.  Cancun, the land where Americans come to wave around their dollars without even learning to say "thank you" or "please" in Spanish.

"You don´t seem American.  They generally stick out here like a sore thumb." Says Amanda.  "I am here and therefore I am Mexican when I am on this land.  I´m also half Cuban but have not been there yet." I reply. 

It´s funny, I don´t know who I have more in common with or whose company I prefer here: the women sitting outside of their artensenia shops or these new traveling friends I have made.  I don´t reply to the Mexican men on the street who speak to me in English pretending I don´t understand.  I am in Mexico, speak to me in Spanish...I am not one of them, I think to myself.

Yet, I am very American.  I am a patriot. My eyes gleam with pride when I start to describe Chicago, my home, my city. I love and respect our President and would be honored to serve him, if only in these moments, as a better ambassador and representative of our nation abroad.

Quick blog fact: This post is the blog´s 100th post. I read somewhere in the blogosphere that a blog isn´t considered serious until it at least has 100 posts. Here´s to being a serious blogger.