I'M TIRED OF NETWORKING.

Job crisis, No. 100000000000000

So I've basically deduced 3 routes:

Entertainment industry assistant position - I'd be an assistant (which would suck), but to some awesome entertainment executive in the department I want, for like 2 years, learn from exposure to the department, get promoted to a job in the department, and then work hard to try and eventually climb the corporate ladder.

Entry level advertising agency or entertainment industry position - I'd get to actually do real work (although still entry level), but for almost no pay, and work hard to advance quickly and bide my time until an opening appears in the department I want to work in in a company I want to work for. Repeat.

Corporate marketing - I go corporate (ex. American Express) and be less passionate about my work (credit cards!) but much more comfortable (higher pay, benefits!). Climb the ladder and HOPE for a lateral move into the entertainment industry (which would only happen at the top top level) or I'll find out I'm too bored and want to go back into the entertainment industry and have to start from the bottom, which I could have done from the beginning.

WHAT A DILEMMA.


On a happier note, around this time next week I'll be off to China!


PS. Val and Francis - I'm going to a midnight screening of The Room tomorrow night for some drunk, screaming, spoon-flinging fun. DO YOU UNDERSTAND LYYYYYFFFFEEEEE? Which reminds me, check this out if you're brave.

Recovery and Revelation

I got ill for the second time this month. I think it was the flu both times. But now I'm better. I wasn't able to go into work due to my condition, so I'd been in bed for most of the week, falling into my disgusting routine of watching endless amounts of television. I'm all caught up on a couple Argentine soap operas, both of which are horrible...I think the Asians have mastered the art form at a level unmatched by the rest of the world.

Anyway, yesterday, I was feeling well enough and craving American food. (As I wrote before, Argentine cuisine is painfully limited to an either bland or unpalatably salty derivative of Italian cuisine.) I ventured into a downtown McDonald's establishment and ordered a "Big McTasty, y por favor agranda el combo". I sat in the middle of the dining room on the second floor. Took off my jacket, then my vest, then my sweater. Put them on the chair beside me. Opened up my McTasty oh so delicately and commenced. I thought I might weep. It was so fucking good.

Later that evening I went to a bar with a friend where I met his other friends, one of whom is gay. He wasn't cute, unfortunately, but we immediately got along quite well. I was invited to his house, since everyone wanted to go out and I wasn't feeling well enough for a crazy night of dancing/drinking.

La Plata is the administrative capital of Buenos Aires Province. It is a city that was planned before being built and there are no sky scrapers. The city, which is 500 blocks by 500 blocks (roughly), is in a perfect grid system with a plaza equally spaced out every 10 blocks or so. The weird thing is, there are no clearly marked retail zones and residential zones except along the avenues. There are no neighborhood covenants which dictate architectural standards. There are no spaces between houses, it's like a continuous series of rowhouses. Finally, you often find BEAUTIFUL houses right next to a dilapidated piece of shit. Most of the time, you can't really tell from the outside.

Anyway, my newfound friend drove us to his house and when we got there, I was like uhh...this looks like a piece of shit. But then, he opened the front door and I found myself in the most charming foyer lined in marble with old antique furniture pieces and beautiful Baroque paintings in gilded frames that must have weighed a ton. His father, dressed in the most intimidatingly beautiful suit, greeted me with a kiss and a handshake and grilled me about where I came from, what I thought of Argentina, etc. We went into the kitchen where there was this box overflowing with bite-sized desserts and sandwiches and we ended up eating and talking till 6 in the morning.

This kid's grandfather was the cousin of Spanish Dictator Francisco Franco, which was hilarious to tease him about, until his father overheard me and lectured me on how Franco was trying to preserve Christian conservatism in a country that was losing its way to Socialism and Sexual backwardness. HAHA. Furthermore, this kid has 4 citizenships: Argentina, Bolivia, Italy, and Spain...and he has a passport for all of them except Bolivia. Crazy, huh?

Anyway, that's my update. Sorry it sucked, but hopefully I'll have better stories for you now that I'm feeling better.

Twilight Zone

Also, Beijing is a place where some weird shit can happen. Case in point...

Last week I was leaving my friend's apartment and saw that my new bike (I had just bought it a week before to replace another bike that was stolen) was gone. That bike cost me about 500kuai (about $75) and I was pretty pissed that it was stolen. I even had two locks on it because I thought that would deter thieves, but apparently not.

The next morning I'm going that same friend's apartment and my bike is there again, propped up against the wall. The two locks are the gone but the bike is in perfect condition, for whatever reason returned by the thief. But now my friend's bike was gone. None of it really made any sense.

Her bike has not yet been magically returned.

ZHONGGUO

A lot has been happening here in China. It's mostly been things like art openings or parties or dinners and bars, with occasional shows or other more unusual events. For instance, spending a night in a half-built castle, the centerpiece of an abandoned Thai-invested Disneyworld rip-off amusement park called "Wonderland". The locals had commandeered the land and had begun growing crops over the unfinished construction. The sight of a concrete castle towering over golden fields of crops, surrounded by mountains, is a "Wonderland" in its own way.

The particular art/music/fashion ("culture", I guess we'd call it, although reserving that term for only these activities seems to belittle everything else about this place) scene here is relatively small. It feels that way, at least. Earlier this week I went to a launching party for a magazine. Last night I went to an art award party run by this high-end cognac brand (Martell or something, I can't remember…clearly the cognac was fairly effective), and afterwards went to a rooftop club/bar's grand opening and then went to a Russian club with some models.

The most fascinating thing about this place is the juxtaposition in both time and space of radically different things. I suppose this is characteristic of many large cities, but for whatever reason it feels more obvious and poignant here in Beijing, maybe because of an emphasized clashing of cultures. One moment I am overstimulated in a skeezy club watching Russian girls dancing in lingerie, then thirty minutes later I'm passing by small, quiet gatherings of people cooking food on sidewalks. Even in that latter instance is some strange contrasting situations. On the way to my place out in west Beijing, I always pass by a small group of four or five people on the sidewalk, sitting around a small fire cooking and eating together. It's 3am, and they are on the next block from my apartment, an area with the reputation as Beijing's electronics center. Here they are cooking kebabs over an open flame in a way that could be described as "primitive" (I don't mean it in any condescending or offensive manner although it's hard to use that word without those implications) underneath these silhouettes of monolithic electronic department stores.

But as I was saying before, the "culture" scene here is relatively small and fairly easy to break into, especially if you're a foreigner. The "culture" scene here is run almost exclusively by foreigners and it almost seems like a form of cultural imperialism, these Westerners imposing upon Chinese youth what's "cool", and funny thing is that Chinese youth are all to eager to accept the teachings of these arbiters of hip. The (young) Chinese tend to romanticize foreigners in a perverse sense. Perverse in that this reverence is so potent that it almost turns into some kind of reverse-racism where other young Chinese people get the blunt end of the stick. For example, Chinese guys are no competition against white guys, because Chinese girls look up to white guys and down on Chinese guys. This doesn't affect me personally, but it's still infuriating that Western culture has penetrated so deeply into Chinese culture (pun intended).

In so eagerly accepting being told what's "cool", they altogether miss out on the fundamentals of "cool", that to be cool is to be your own and do what you want to do. I'm oversimplifying but basically, doing what other people tell you to do isn't "cool".

Anyways, it is easy for a foreigner to break into the scene here. That is precisely the reason why a lot of foreigners end up coming here. It's called "LAH", or "Lame At Home". If you're lame at home, come to China and you'll be considered cool. I can't say this is true for all foreigners (I'm cool at home too, duh). Most of the foreigners I know here are genuinely awesome people and came to China for different reasons than feeling like a loser at home. But there are certainly some that you meet that clearly escaped to China so they could live out ridiculous fantasies of fame and prestige that are so easily played out here.

A good vacation

No one knows what happened to the middle of our internship, but whoa, it's almost over! This time next week, I will be sleeping in the comfort of my own bed. It will be amazing.

Everyone is SO excited to go home, but sometimes when I'm bored at work (i.e. now), I start reminiscing about this trip and how great it was... despite the obvious fact that I'm still here/not ecstatic about it.

When I think back on my days here, little things seem to override all the drag and frustrations I've felt. Little things like spending all of Thursday trying to make dumplings and forcing each other to eat peanut butter, chocolate, and bananas wrapped in raw dough; like everyone singing Home (see below) over and over on Friday and then--as we progressed to more intense songs and finished off more bottles of wine--dancing/thrashing around the dinner table; like eating out of huge pots on Saturday and playing with orphans who, to my relief, seemed happy and loved; like sitting in silence at a bar on Sunday, tears in everyone's eyes as montages of dreams made and broken (GHANA) played over and over on the TV.

It's like my disappointment gets scrunched up into one small ball, whereas these little memories expand and exaggerate into epic moments filled with emotion, bonding, and meaning.

I guess it's comforting to know that those small moments are enough to make me look back and say that it was a good experience, despite how badly I want it to be over...

notes:
(1) related article on the psychology of holidays and what makes a vacation a happy one.
(2)related video

Update

So recently I've been seeing my future in numbers and it's not pretty. NYC housing costs (approx 1500 a month if I'm lucky), my potential marketing salary (GIVEN that I get a job to begin with) to be 50K AT BEST, $10 for a pack of cigarettes, my amounting student loans, future cell phone bills, the fact that I'm turning 22 soon, and the list goes on.

Accompanied with this dose of reality, my internship in NY has also revealed things about myself to myself:
I drink a cup of black coffee everyday. Can't be healthy.
I always pick lounging around and generally being lazy over going out and getting crunkkkkk. So antisocial.
I have relinquished control over my intern group project. Very surprising. Although this might influenced by the fact that I believe the project matters very little.
I tend to accidentally curse in front of my co-workers. Not so good.
I am kinda attracted to my married co-worker? Really not good.

On a completely unrelated note, I've just learned the word "meme" and have discovered many internet memes I'm completely behind in knowing about. My favorite so far:

Brother Sharp, China's "most stylish beggar" and "a starkly handsome Chinese man walking with a model's measured gait, and wearing a rag-tag but well co-ordinated overcoat on top of a leather jacket. His eyes peer into the middle distance, in what one fan described as 'a deep and penetrating way', and he strides confidently forward."

la plata, buenos aires

so i know it's been forever. p.s., i love the new format of the blog. kudos to linda, i'm guessing?

i'm so sorry it's been ages since posting; life here is time consuming albeit slow. very slow. too slow.

anyway, i arrived in buenos aires a little over a couple weeks ago. they don't have as strict of emissions standards here so all the cars emit a LOT of exhaust that makes the entire city smell like a garage perpetually. the weather is temperate to cold. there are a few days when it's perfect, but it doesn't feel perfect because of the pollution :(

it's okay though. the architecture's absolutely beautiful in the city. i actually am working in la plata which is the province capital, about 45-50 minutes away from the center of buenos aires.

work here is slow. i don't have very many official assignments, but i've taken over an account, which basically involves an agreement with the local produce distributor that allows a local cooperative to obtain about 10,000 kilos of fruit per week for free, with which to make marmalade. i'll help with the accounting/budgeting/marketing/and distributing. i am working with this great culinary professor who is offering her services/expertise to the women.

speaking of food. it's horrible here. NOBODY can handle spice here. ugh, i have to venture into the city to find a korean or mexican restaurant but i haven't really had the opportunity because the office allows for a food stipend but only if i eat with them or go to a location within la plata. and i've been spending way too much money.

i could go on an on but i'm gonna end with a dramatic story. this past friday, the other interns and i went to a gay club called AMERIKA. it's known for being really scandalous, but i didn't know HOW scandalous. it was about 4:30am and i decided to explore the other parts of the club. i went through this walkway/balcony that connected the cumbia/latin music room to the electronica room and i noticed that the entire balcony was dark and filled with people even though there wasn't any music playing in that section. i ventured in to see what was going on and realized it was hundreds of gay argentine men/boys feeling each other up, making out, giving each other handjobs and blowjobs....

i immediately got like 10 hands groping me through my clothes and got pulled aside by this really hot paraguayan guy about my age. he had a ripped body and his clothes were off, he made me start stroking his **** while making out with me intensely. i couldn't resist but after a while decided to get out of there because other guys were joining in and trying to get my clothes off. by the time i stumbled out of there, i realized i had been robbed of my passport, my credit card, my penn card, my cell phone, and some money.

SHIT.

oh well. going to the embassy either tomorrow or friday.

jaded?

Two weekends ago, I went to a World Cup game (so great!), and on the way back we somehow crossed the Botswana border illegally… it’s kind of a long story that sounds like it should be exciting but isn’t. Ending: I was an illegal immigrant for about a day but have since then regained my status as a legal visitor.

Last weekend, we went camping in the Kalahari Desert, which was absolutely beautiful but so effing cold. Despite sleeping with 5 layers of clothing, 4 blankets (not including the one wrapped around my face), and 3 pairs of socks, I still woke up shivering and couldn't feel my right foot for ~2 hours. At least I didn't get iced like one of the guys did at 6:30 AM (bros icing bros!). Unfortunately, we have no crazy stories about lions and leopards coming into our camp to tell, but it was still fun. We DID manage to see a ton of lions and a freshly killed giraffe, though! Woo.

All the other Penn interns are gone this weekend, so I will be hanging out with the UVA law student who is also too poor to fly to Cape Town or go to Vic Falls like everyone else. It will be interesting. And awkward, probably.

It's kind of sad, but I think most people here are ready to go home. We keep making lists of things we're excited to go home to, like fresh fruit (SO EXCITED) and haircuts (AHH!). My hair is out of control right now, but I'm (obviously) too afraid to cut it here, despite the fact that every woman I meet tells me I should let her cut my hair so that she can take my hair for her extensions. Most conversations I have with the local women here go something like this: "Dumela ma! (hello)" "Dumela ma. What is your name?" "Linda." "Cut your hair and give it to me." "Oh."

I bet they'd pay me to let them cut my hair. I wonder how much I could make...

An Irish-English hodgepodge

So I tried posting from London, but sadly there's no real good way to blog photos from an iphone. Since I'm home now and back to the 9-5 grind, I'm going to have to just give you guys a whirlwind tour of my vacation, starting with the Dubs, before I am late for work. Yikes.

Dublin





A beautiful city - small, friendly and bright. I'd imagined something gray and cloudy, Dickensian, with a fine rain at the annoying brink of needing and not needing an umbrella constantly falling from the sky. The weather, in fact, was perfect - 70 and sunny the entire time, which we were told was miraculous. ("You brought the sun with you from America," - Dave No. 1. My friend Alyssa and I met many a Dave.) One of my favorite things about this city was how intimate it was. I'd say it was a bit smaller than Philadelphia, and equally if not more walkable. There were so many different types of neighborhoods to see, both north and south of the river Liffey, which is supposed to separate the city into a wealthier, more commercial and political South section and a more residential and less manicured northern section. Another favorite thing: how talkative people are and how easy it is to get into conversations with them. Not that the British were totally reticent, but I found they were more like east-coast Americans, not willing to open up too much in conversation, whereas the Irish were extremely friendly and ready to talk. And hand out their phonenumbers. The bar scene was expensive in the touristy areas, but fine in places that were more out of the way. We never got bored enough to spend time getting to the Guiness factory or the Jameson distillery, but in the course of three days we had enough pints to prove to ourselves that the Guiness really is better the closer it is to home.