Thankful for Constant Learning

Nov. 7 - Thankful for Constant Learning

In the last 11 months since graduating from college, I have learned that the learning is far from over. I may have earned my degree through classes with professors but I'm earning a life degree through real life experiences from my peers and superiors. There is still so much more to a profession than the degree that helped you get the job. The best thing is that I've found an agency that encourages that learning agency-wide. Today, I sat through an hour long lecture on pitching the media, put on by one of the agency's VPs. He went through a presentation and told us what he knew and his experiences, to a room full of the younger part of the staff. That is what is so great about this place. It's the perfect mix of veterans and rookies. And some in-betweeners.

It hasn't all just been learning on the job this year for me. Everyone says you find yourself in college, but I've found more about myself in the year since. And I know I'm just going to realize more and grow more as a person in the next few years. This is the start of my adulthood and the learning is just going to continue. And that makes me hopeful for the future.

Thankful for my Faith

November 6 - Thankful for my Faith

I am what you call "cradle Catholic," meaning that I was baptized barely 2 months after being born. I'm Italian and was born in New York, so of course I come from a big, happy, loud, eccentric family. And I wouldn't have it any other way. I don't really remember going to church very much when I was really young, but after my family moved to California, we joined a church that had started up the year I was born. It was full of young families (and some old) and that community became MY community. I grew up with the children of those families and count many of them as my "extended family" today. My faith is not so much being Catholic as it is being associated with that parish community. I call myself a "pick and choose" Catholic...I believe in most of the fundamentals of it, but some of it I just can't. And I'm ok with that.

I don't live at home anymore and can count the number of times I've been to mass up here on one hand. I always go to church when I'm visiting home and enjoy the mass, but going by myself up here has literally brought me to tears because it makes me so homesick. I don't need to be IN church to talk to God. More often than not, I find myself talking to him (and my grandfather, who passed when I was 7) while I'm driving. Just to make sure they're watching when I'm driving ;).  In fact, it's almost easier sometimes to talk to my Popi than it is to God. I miss him a lot and his death had me struggling with my faith for a long time. I still question God sometimes today.

My grandfather died of cancer and I know many people who have either died of cancer or survived it. I have a hard time believing that God would take away so many good and wonderful people with this disease. And Popi was so young, only 63. I talk to him almost every single day about anything that is going on. I can only hope that I would make him proud if he were still here today.

I struggled with my faith for a short time. I wasn't sure if it was because I was adjusting to life on my own or that I wasn't sure what to believe. That's when I realized my "pick and choose" faith. I believe in Him and know he's watching me and would never give me something that he didn't think he could handle. He has a plan for me and it's my job in life to trust in Him. He gave me my family and friends so I have a happy life.

Being Thankful in the Month of November

I've been seeing people post one thing that they're thankful for each day on Facebook and while I like that idea, I'd rather do it on here. And since I've missed a few days, I have some catching up to do. So here goes for the first 5 days of November.

Nov. 1 - Thankful for my family

Without my family, namely my parents, sister, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, I would not be the person I am today. They have been my support system all along and I'm recognizing pieces of my parents' personality in myself as I grow up more. Which is an amazing thing. My parents are wonderful, loving, hard working people who were smart enough to raise their daughters in the same style they were raised; love with lessons. I love my entire family and am so thankful that I was born into it. I wish I could see my far flung extended family more often, but such is life that we're far away. 

Nov. 2 - Thankful for my friends 

If you're a friend of mine, you'll know that the words "I love you" come out of my mouth pretty easily, mostly in your direction. And that's because I mean it. Either I've known you a long time and you have become such a close friend that I consider you family or I've known you a short time and our friendship is growing. When my family moved out to California, we didn't have a lot of family around and we found a close knit group of friends that became our family. I've mentioned them before and they continue to be a part of "my family" that I miss so much at home. They've welcomed my family into their lives and influenced my life in ways that some of them may not even realize. So to all my "family", I love you so much and miss you all so much. Whether you're in Italy, England, California, Arizona or New Jersey, I love you :). 

Nov. 3 - Thankful for my job(s)

I am fortunate enough to have found an amazing internship at an agency that is known for being a great place to work. I am finding my purpose in life and contributing to a company that I believe in. I am also very fortunate enough to have worked as a waitress at a restaurant steadily for the last 4 years. Yes, I know I complain about it more often than not, but I really am grateful that I have it. There are plenty of people out there today, especially today, who can't even find one job and I have the fortune of having two. 

Nov. 4 - My health 

Even though I probably could have kept much better care of myself over the last few years, I am healthy and happy. I recently made steps to take better care of myself and am feeling better than before. I am fortunate enough to live a life where I can afford to join a gym and take those steps of taking better care of myself. Also, my mental health is good. I am happy and in a good state of mind (even though my friends tell me I worry more than I need to). 

Nov. 5 - My car

Yes, mom and dad, I'm VERY thankful for my car. I came to drive my car at a stressful part of this year and the circumstances of me coming to own this particular car were a major part of my stress. But I am thankful for it and the skills that it takes to drive it. I always knew I would eventually learn how to drive a manual, I just didn't think it would be this type of car. And now that I drive to work, I am doubly thankful for it. Long gone are the days of taking the train, and trust me, that's a big part of me being happy every day going to work. 

So that does it for today. Since it's technically Saturday (nearly 1 am) I'll come back on Sunday with another one. Love you all and miss you all. G'gnight. 

A Catch Up of Sorts

Well, well, well. I haven't written in here in over 3 months. And what a 3 months it has been. When I wrote my last post, I was working at an agency in San Francisco, my second internship of the year. I was struggling a little bit with myself and trying to figure out where I would be by the end of the year. That internship didn't work out and in the end, it definitely was for the best. I had a month in between that internship and the internship I am now in and that month off from working an internship and just waitressing might have been the best thing for me. It really gave me a chance to reflect on the year and to absorb all the lessons I had learned or still needed to realize I had learned.

At the end of the month, I was hired on at my current agency and I absolutely love it. I hope to God that this is the place that I'll be for the foreseeable future because everything about it clicks. I like the work (which is high-tech, which I NEVER thought I would like and said so. I will gladly eat those words for years to come), I like my coworkers (they are pretty freaking rad) and I am happy going into work every day. Because in the end, if you're not happy going into work every day, then you're really not putting your best self forward and doing the quality of work you could do if you were happy. My supervisor said it best today in our weekly catch up, "I know this is work, but it still has to be enjoyable."

I'm still in the same house I've been in for the last 2 years with the same roommate. I love where I live, who I live with and am very thankful for my life right now. I know I miss home and the people at home a ton, but I can always go down for a quick weekend.

Unfortunately, since I'm driving all the time now, I have about zero time to read new books, so the brief purpose of writing book reviews is now kaput. Hopefully, I'll find a few minutes to read a book for fun here and there. Also, I joined a gym so I'm getting home later and later. I'm realizing that when you work a lot, you have to make sure you make time for yourself.

I also want to start writing in here a lot more. I miss writing for myself. It helps you unload what's on your mind, which is why I named this "Extension Of My Brain." So, here's to resolutions a few months early :).

An Ode To A Boy Named Harry With Glasses.

This is about two weeks overdue but I’ve been a tad bit busy. The last Harry Potter film has come and gone and I’ve seen it and I feel…strange. But let me explain how much Harry has been in my life.

The first HP book came out in 1998 but I was not made aware of it until the following year. I remember the first time I heard about this boy wizard in 6^th grade. It was in English class and we still had required reading back then. One of my classmates, I think Steven Jacobs (excuse my freakish memory and blame my father for it), was reading it. Each week we had to give a short summary to our teacher, Mrs. Jordan, about what was going on in our books. When Steven described the scene, which I later realized was the letter receiving, it sounded so strange that I dismissed it immediately. I was at the end stage of reading American Girl books and was discovering my fascination with historical fiction books (which is stronger than ever today). The thought of a boy being surrounded by flying letters and delivery owls was so off to me. And since everyone started reading the books, I refused. I didn’t want to read what everyone else was reading. Well, of course, that didn’t last long. At Christmas that year, I received two copies of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone; one from my aunt and one from a neighbor, both who knew my love of reading. So I figured, eh why not, I’ll give this a shot.

I was hooked. Not as hooked as everyone else, partly because my mom was not one of those moms who would go out to the release of a book and get it right away. But she did read the books just as much as I did (even though I always read them first because I read faster and then would beg her to hurry up so we could talk about it. I still do that, just with the movies now). In fact, the only book I went to the midnight release of was the final one, with a friend, my second year of college. Yeah, that’s how long those books were in my life. But nonetheless, shortly after they came out, my mom would get the new book and I would read it, then she would read it. I think when the first movies came out was when I really started to get into it. It was crazy and *magical* to see the images I had pictured in my mind shown on screen, almost exactly the way I had thought of them. The makers of the films really did do a good job. The early films are full of innocence and light and colors while the later ones are dark and mature, just how the books are.

I grew up with Harry, just like the rest of my classmates. I was 11 when the first books came out. Obviously I aged a bit faster but still. The thought of someone at 17 doing the things he did (yes I know it’s just a book) was unfathomable to me, in my world. I wish the wizarding world really did exist. He taught us lessons about friendship, loyalty, bravery and doing the right thing no matter what it took. Those are as good of lessons as any we will ever learn.

Now on to the final movie, which I saw with my two older cousins. That's something I love about my family; all of us cousins rarely interact, but I can guarantee most of us are Harry Potter fans and I'm so happy I got to experience the last of it with Alexis and Rhiannon. We were all pretty emotional, in our amazing smack-dab-in-the-middle-of-the-theater seats. I shifted so much (I get antsy sitting still for too long) and at one point had my arms hooked around my legs with my chin to my knees. It was an intense movie. Absolutely non-stop from beginning to amazing end. Yes, they changed things from the book a bit, but did it still make sense? Yes. Also, people have said they didn't like the epilogue at the end, fast-forwarded 19 years. I've heard "cheesy" and "corny" used. Well then, you must not have read the books. Because it was perfect in the book. And nearly perfect in the film. We didn't see a bit of it that was in the book but that's ok. We were pressed for time. 

My next wish is that the entire book series is adapted into an animated series, like a mini series that we've been seeing.  That way, every detail can be included and all the crazy magic that didn't quite look right with live actors will be made. I think that would be brilliant. 

A chapter of my childhood has closed but is not over; it will never be over. Thank you J.K. Rowling for creating a whole world and bringing such *magic* into our lives.  

Slowly exploring the new "neighborhood"

San Francisco is a BIG city. Much larger than one would imagine. Thus, it has a lot of different neighborhoods, often divided by just a few blocks. My first internship was in the "China Basin" down by the ball park and my new one is in the "Financial District," a few blocks south of Market. Technically, both are identified as SOMA (South of Market) but the blocks that separate the two define them a lot. The closer to Market St. you get, the more lively you get. The closer to AT&T you get, the calmer you get (and more homeless people); well except for Game Days.

The thing that I am discovering about San Francisco is that it is one of the most diverse food places in the world. In fact, several magazines in the last few months have been featuring it as the "new food capital of the world" (please don't quote me..I just remember this statement, not the publications it was in). So naturally, a food loving gal like me would want to look around. Of course, as much as I love food, I am notoriously picky. Like crazy picky. But even if I can't find something on the menu I like/would eat, I do like to go in and see what it's all about.  My new office is surrounded by TONS of little restaurants.

My first morning, I didn't have to be in the office until 9 am and had been told that no one really arrived before then. So, because I didn't have a key and didn't want to stand next to the door until someone came, I went to the cafe next door to get some breakfast (I am horrible about eating before I leave the house these days - 6:30 am breakfast makes this girl hungry again by 9 am). It was adorable and called Bay Area Gourmet. I didn't notice until later that day that they had a huge "GRAND OPENING" sign fluttering in the ever-present San Francisco breeze. It was interesting because they offer "personal drip coffee." Now, I am a coffee drinker, at all, but I found this process fascinating. The lady would scoop a cup full of coffee beans, put it in the grinder, slip a filter in a little holder with the beans in it, place a cup underneath and then pour boiling water into the coffee grounds and whisk them up, thus letting the very freshly brewed coffee drip right into the customer's coffee cup. I had never seen anything like it. And yes, I know, I am verrrryyy easily amused and fascinated. But hey, it's all about new experiences.
There is also this sandwich place called The Toaster Oven, who specializes in, you guessed it, toasted sandwiches. And I tried one the other day and even with my pickiness, I found it delicious. There's also a soup place across the street called San Francisco Soup Company, that is literally a door a counter and a menu. That's it. No seating area, hardly any room inside for any type of line. I must try it. My coworkers frequent there and the soup always smells delicious. Also, Specialty's is around the corner on New Montgomery. Now, I know this is a chain but I really hadn't been there much and have now fell in love with their chocolate chip cookies (only gotten them once..but oh goodness they were good.) What interests me so much about this particular location is the people who work there. The few times I've been in there (my agency orders snacks from them for client meetings), it's always all guys working and most of these guys look like the total opposite of what you would expect from a bakery worker. Specifically, they're all covered in tattoos and would look more comfortable in a store, well any other place than a bakery. But they are the nicest guys! Gotta love SF :).

So, since I have pulled away from writing about the books I have read (I swear I'm going to pick that up again), I will write about the little food places around my new place of employment.

Enjoy! And come visit me in SF!!

Ch-Ch-Changes

Ch-ch-changes

My, my, my what a difference a month makes, huh? Well, I can officially say that as of today I am working at H3O Communications as an intern, having finished my previous internship with Fineman PR last Friday. It was a great experience and I am forever grateful to the Fineman team for teaching me so much. For reasons that don’t really matter, I took my leave of them and started today with H3O. I’m really excited to work with this new agency and they’re a bit bigger so I feel a little more comfortable. I’m still in SF, working further into the city than before and so far, I like it. Yes, I can see a construction crew out of my window at all hours of the day and the noise gets a little loud but sheesh this part of the city is so ALIVE. There were so many people surrounding me when I walked here this morning and even the office I’m now in seems alive. It’s got at least 4 different colors on the walls and the desks are set up in an awesomely collaborative way. In fact, even though everyone has an “assigned seat” people move around to work on projects and such. A good chunk of the staff have been in a meeting all day (unfortunately it’s the chunk of the staff and client that I’ll be working on…as a first day-er, I wasn’t in on the meeting) but it’s a big space that gets filled up. I really like it.

Life otherwise is pretty much the same. I work all day so I’m out of the house most of the time. Weekends are my veg-out time. I like it. This past weekend was a 4 day weekend, due to the leaving of one job and starting another mid-week and I have to say (and this scares me) I was so thankful to be going to work this morning that I didn’t care that I was still waking up at 5:30 a.m. and rushing to catch the train. Ahhh, routine. I did get a lot done this past weekend (and quick break) but mostly I relaxed. It was nice. You have to remember to give yourself some relaxation/me time or you’ll go crazy. I know that already and I’m not even in a full-time, salaried position.

I am excited about going home next weekend for a much needed family time break. My wonderful parents are throwing me a graduation party, since I have not only graduated but also got a job (how’s that for having my ish together?) and it will be wonderful fun with all the people I love and miss the most, the people who have surrounded me growing up and encouraged me in my college and post-college life. I can’t wait J. So that was slightly a random post, but hey I got one in right? Ciao, belle.

(P.S….I miss Florence so much still, that I constantly dream about it. As soon as financially able to, I’m running back there and will probably hug the glorious cobblestone that covers my favorite city). 

Friends: They're Good for the Soul

     Lately, I’ve been feeling nostalgic for friends that I haven’t seen in a while. Luckily, in the past few weeks, I’ve been able to see a few old friends and have made plans to meet up with others. It started a few weekends ago when a friend from home was up on business in San Francisco and called to meet up after work. This friend is more like family to me and I hadn’t seen him very much in the last two years. He pointed out that we did see each other on New Year’s Eve but other than that, not much else. We had a great time and I really hadn’t spent time with him “out” so it was all an adventure. We had always hung out in the comfort of our family’s company and now that we’re “grown-ups” (still makes me smile to think that) we can do things on our own. Well, he’s a bit older so he’s been out on his own for some time now.

     Then, yesterday, I got a call from a friend from junior college informing me that he was en route to SF and would I like to meet up with him. I laughed at his never changing way of making plans, aka NOT making plans and flying by the seat of his pants. We met up at a bar/café a few blocks from my office with two of his friends, one of which I went to junior high and high school with (small world in Southern California…small world) and we had a great time and then got a bit lost in SF trying to drop one of the guys off. It was great because we are all trying to convince him to choose SF for law school and he had said he didn’t know if he had seen enough of the city. Well he certainly did last night. On the drive back down (he was staying with a friend in the South Bay and drove me home) we talked about junior college and caught up on each other’s lives. It was nice.

     I’ve realized that I have the sorts of friends that I can go ages without talking to, then see them and it’s like no time has passed at all. I think that’s what a true friend is made of. Of course, I would much prefer to see these wonderful people on a much more regular basis, but the fact of life is that we grow up around each other and when college and adult life hits, we can get far flung. The important thing is to hold on to the fond memories you have and make sure to catch up once in a while as well as make a few new memories. I like it that way. I have a verrry busy life right now and I don’t have much time for a social life. It’s nice and comforting to know that I have friends that I can just call up after a while and chat.

     I also found out that some old high school acquaintances are moving up to the Bay Area soon and I offered to show them around. It’ll be good to see some old faces. Yay for being an “adult” J.

Where Were You?

     Last night, May 1, 2011, Osama bin Laden was confirmed dead. It's one of those chilling "where were you?" moments that we'll be talking about for years to come.
    On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was in 8th grade and getting ready for school that Tuesday. I knew something was up when my dad turned on the TV to the news. Then the images flooded in. It was horrifying and scary and oh I still shudder when I think about it. That day at school is a blur but everyone was talking about it. Naturally, being junior high schoolers, we didn't really understand the huge significance. I just remember a teacher saying that our trip to Washington D.C. most likely was not going to happen. The news around what was going on in New York came out more and more.
     A few days later, my family learned that my mom's cousin, who is a doctor, had been at Ground Zero for three straight days. She finally got home on the fourth, burned her bloody clothes and slept for a day. A guy my dad knew from high school was one of the firefighters killed and a distant cousin was killed in the towers. We saw their names on the wall of the memorial a few years later when we visited.
     Now, nearly 10 years later, the evil man who was the mastermind behind it all has been killed. Gone. But the war on terrorism is not over. There is no way in hell those who supported him will take this lying down. The country is once again on high alert and now my 22 year old self is much more aware. And admittedly scared.
    I was watching TV with my roommate and as our nightly routine, both of us were sitting on our respective couches with our laptops up. We were watching "Real Housewives of Orange County" because, well, we need to watching something mind numbing once in a while. I refreshed my Facebook page and 7 new statuses popped up, all about Osama bin Laden's supposed death. I gasped and my fingers flew to Google. With Google tentatively confirming it, I said something to my roommate, who by the way is studying for her LSATs and had an internship on Capitol Hill last semester and knows more about government and foreign policy than I ever want to know. She said if it's true it's huge, turn on CNN.
      It was 7:59. I read that the president was supposed to have made an address at 7:30 ET. Obviously, that didn't happen. Finally, at 8:30 President Obama delivered a quick 7 minute speech that confirmed what all of social media was blasting. And I mean blasting. Watching Twitter auto-refresh along with Facebook was surreal. It was history at my fingertips.
     I stayed up until about 11 pm watching it all unfold. And of course this morning told more. It's a huge moment in history and one that will certainly affect us in the coming days, weeks, months and probably years. We'll get through this.

So where were you?

New Background

Just wanted to do a quick update of my new background. I was getting bored with the look and I was just browsing through the themes when I found the bookshelf theme. I loved it and I think that because I am *trying* to write about each book I read, it fits. With that, I really need to get on writing some more posts. I've read about 4 new books and haven't written anything! Eesh!

"Cancer" is a dirty word

     Cancer is a disgusting, vile, dirty, cold-blooded killer. It doesn’t care who you are, who your family is or even how old you are. It sneaks up on you and only if you’re quick enough do you catch it early enough to get rid of it. It is also THE most terrifying word in the entire human vernacular, no matter what language it is spoken in, despite it being only six letters long. I absolutely, positively, to my dying day HATE cancer.

     Yes, there is the ‘cancer’ astrological sign, which has a meaning all to itself. But the diseased definition of the ‘C’ word is terrifying. It strikes out of nowhere and if you don’t catch it quick enough, it spreads and spreads until it consumes you. I absolutely, positively hate it.

     This comes from a few different places. One: my hatred of the disease from a young age due to the death of my grandfather (as mentioned in a previous post). I feel that his disease could have been prevented, had he been born in my time, where there is abundant information on how awful smoking is for you. Unfortunately, he wasn’t. And he was taken over first by lung cancer, which spread to his liver and his brain.

     Two: I have a terrifying fear of breast cancer. I have no family history of it, but cancer doesn’t care about your family history. I have made it a goal for myself to participate in one of the breast cancer walks in the next 5 years. I make that broad goal because I have no idea when I will have the time to train for that. I can remember my mom training for it and she did it with a large group and it was intense. I want to make a difference somehow. Eventually, as a career goal, I’d like to work for a cancer group, either American Cancer Society or Livestrong. It’s just not realistic for me right now.

     Three: I watched a movie the other night called One True Thing. It starred Meryl Streep (I LOVE her) and Renee Zellwegger. In it, Streep’s character was dying of cancer. I cried during the last few scenes of her life and if it hadn’t been so late, I would have called my mom sobbing and wanting to hug her and never let go. Hell, I want to do that on most days with no provocation. I can’t imagine having to watch my mother go through that experience, which brings me to reason number four.

     Four: I just found out that an old friend from Camarillo was diagnosed with cancer and it has already progressed to stage 4. That has got to be absolutely terrifying for her and her family. I remember her and her family growing up. Her daughters played softball with my sister and our parents are friends. They moved to Washington a number of years ago and we’ve lost touch but my parents interact with her and her husband every once in a while on Facebook. I can’t imagine (as I’ve already stated) having to watch your mother go through this. I know her daughters and I know they’re going to be there 100% for their mom and supporting her all the way, along with the rest of their family. I am praying she gets better, overcomes this, kicks cancer’s ass. I sincerely hope for the best because she is an absolutely wonderful person and this world would be worse off without her.

     There are plenty of cancer foundations, groups, and societies out there to battle this ugly thing. I just hope that someday there will be a cure for it. The unfortunate thing is that cancer has many forms; there are hundreds of strains of the thing and some of them are rare and absolutely lethal. Some, even if caught early on, can still kill within a few months. You never know where or who it’s going to hit. It makes me want to live every day like it’s my last. You should too. 

*Finally* Exploring San Francisco

     Start with something slightly sad (in a sarcastic sense): I’ve lived in the Bay Area for over TWO years and the only time I have been to San Francisco besides for work is for a baseball game, to do my paperwork for my student visa and to go to Pier 39. OH and a meeting at a hotel (can’t remember which one). This is sad for me (but not really sad when you think about it).               
     Now something happy: last night began my quest to remedy this. My cousin and her boyfriend just moved up to San Francisco and live up on Market. Since she’s so close, we decided to do dinner and since I wanted to avoid a late night and have more cousin time, I stayed the night at their place. I had so much fun. First off, I was out of the office at 5:15 and at her place by 5:25. Changed by 5:45 after a quick business headshot (oh yeah, she’s a kickass photographer as well). Out the door walking through the shopping district, China Town and Little Italy all by 6:15. Do you realize how amazing that is for me?! Usually I don’t get home until after 7 and barely have the energy to do anything besides a simple dinner and put on jammies. I loved it.                
     We decided to walk since this is the city and parking can be a total bitch. Plus it’s more fun. It looked like rain was threatening but we forgot umbrellas, despite her boyfriend’s warning (he stayed in to work; girls night!) Well about 5 minutes into our walk and about halfway to our destination (right on the cusp of Chinatown) it began to rain. We looked at each other giggled and ducked into a shop to buy some cheapy, but really good umbrellas. Oh well, adventure begins! Continue walking, all the while trying not to decapitate our fellow pedestrians (they were huge umbrellas, check out the picture below). All the while I am “oohing” and “ahhing” at all the sights in Chinatown. It really felt like I was in a different country all of the sudden. Then BAM! We turn the corner and we’re in Italy. Well it felt like it anyways.

     We went to this adorably tacky/gaudy Italian restaurant called ‘Mona Lisa.’ Authentic Italian to the max. All the waiters spoke Italian and were from there originally. Some things never change. Had the most delicious Italian food I’ve had since I was actually in Italy. To top it off, we had a great conversation, received free dessert and got the numbers of 2 of the waiters (they offered, I kept them :))     
     Walked off our delicious dinner back to her building, got changed and went to a fancy bar for some drinks. Chatted a bit, looked at the pouring rain and how pretty the city gets when it’s soaking wet and then back up to her place. Changed into jammies and watched 2012. I wanted to watch King’s Speech and she agreed then said it “Nope! We’re watching something more fun.” And it was. Snuggled with her kitty, who according to my cousin, usually bolts from the room at the sight of any person besides her and had a wonderful night in.                
     Needless to say, this will become more of a regular occurrence. In fact, it made me realize how much I miss living in a city, where you can just walk everywhere. She lives in an area where everything is in walking distance. Oh and my commute to work this morning? Woke up at 7, out the door at 8 and at work at 8:10. YES please. I want to move to San Francisco…now if only I could afford it. 

No Internet = Huh?!!

     Something interesting is happening at my office today. Because of the recent storm(s)…(well we call them those anyways) in San Francisco, Comcast has had some trouble keeping our phone lines and internet connectivity, well, connected. I have not truly been without internet access in years. Even if it was down for a few minutes, there was always a way to re-boot it or go elsewhere. Working in an office where Internet connectivity is absolutely essential to the way we work every day is a verrrry interesting experience when there is nothing working. Our phones are down, so we’re using cell phones to call necessary people, and our server is working so we’re working on documents (well everyone else is…I’m the intern and therefore have nothing pending except research…on the internet). But other than that, there’s a lot of chatter.

     So what does one do when there is no outside work connectivity? Read the paper of course. Yes, I actually sat down with the office copy of today’s Wall Street Journal and went through the entire thing. No, I didn’t read the entire thing, but I did read a good number of the articles and looked at every headline and sub-headline. Then I read through last week’s “Time Magazine” about Japan’s crisis. And now I’m eyeing out lobby table chock full of “Wine Spectator” magazines, “Bloomberg” magazines and “Fast Company.” I have never read any of these publications (besides “Time” of course), but today is the one day I didn’t bring a book for the train. Le sigh. The Internet went out about 8:45 came back about 10:50 and is now out again after about 15 minutes of working; just enough time for me to check all my email and send a few replies and inquiries out. Now, I’m sitting here, occasionally picking up my desk phone for a dial tone and typing away at this.

     Also, an interesting thing happened when I read the Wall Street Journal. I came across a “Destinations” blog, with a piece about an American living in Florence. Yes, I know I talk about that city a lot (I bet if you “control F” on my entire blog, that word would come up at least 100 times). I loved reading her take on it and not only did she talk about the beauty and wonder of that city (it’s my favorite, couldn’t you tell?) but she also went through ALL the red tape that it takes to even stay there long term. It’s a lot. And it’s frustrating; but so worth it. I day dream about that place and because I was day dreaming about it, I dream about it at night. And I wake up with a pang in my heart, wondering when I’ll get back there. I really, really miss it. But I digress.

     I will add to this as the day unfolds. Most of us just want to work from home, even if that means loading a bunch of necessary documents onto flash drives and reloading them tomorrow with freshly updated versions. If I had more comfortable walking shoes, I might just go (finally) explore the city. But nope. Oh and there’s chance of thunderstorms today. Nooo way. 

**Update: Internet finally returned for an extended period of time around 1 p.m. after going in and out several times. Seems to be holding. Thus this posting.**

RIP Antonio Bifulco 4.21.1932 to 2.26.1996

15 years is a long time. 15 years ago, I was 7 years old and in second grade, getting ready to make my First Holy Communion. My sister was 3, almost 4 and in pre-school. We had moved to California a year and a half before and were still settling in.

15 years is also the amount of time that has passed since my grandfather, Antonio Bifulco, died from complications of lung cancer. I remember that morning like it was yesterday and the hurt still cuts just as deep, if not more now because of the time that has passed. They say that time heals all wounds. Unfortunately, time also allowed me to learn more about my grandfather’s illness and I’ve been witness to the havoc that cancer wreaks on families every day. I have learned the cause of his disease, smoking, and wish like hell that he had grown up in a world that knew the dangers of it. Instead, he grew up in Italy, during the time of war-torn, Mussolini-ruled Italy, having been born in San Giuseppe Vesuviano in 1932. If there was ever a wish in my heart so desperately for a time-machine, it is now.

It was an early, cold February morning. I was up and getting ready for school, like the rest of my family, getting ready for the day. Mom and Dad in their room showering, hair-drying, tie-tying. Little sister’s eyes still full of sleep, her adorable little face probably non-too happy to be awake so early, especially since it was still dark out. Besides she was never really a morning person when she was younger. I thought I had heard the phone ringing, but the details on that are fuzzy. What followed isn’t. I knew something was wrong when I heard my aunt’s voice on the machine downstairs. My parents couldn’t find the phone, or something. The only thing I clearly remember is my dad opening his door looking and me and it hitting me. I raced at him and he scooped me up as I sobbed “I knew it! I knew it!” My grandfather had died. My Popi Tony. The man who had come to America alone at the age of 26 to make a new life for himself. The man who had raised my father and aunt, working as a bricklayer and pizza parlor owner. The man who improved his English skills by helping his children with their homework. He was gone. Forever.

I had known it was coming. My dad had warned my sister and I at Christmas. That time was a happy time. I came home from school one day, probably the last day of school before winter break, to my Nani, Popi and Aunt Maria sitting on the couch and talking with my parents like they had been there for ages. I was SO excited. I had missed them so much since we had moved to California. But my grandfather was very thin and very weak. I think I knew in the back of my mind that something was very wrong, but I was only 7 and really didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. I have a vague memory of my dad leaving in September that year to go on a trip with his dad. I found out later that they had traveled to Italy and Brazil so that my grandfather could say goodbye to his family. I can’t even begin to imagine who painful that must have been for my dad and the rest of my family. My grandfather was the one who traveled back to Italy as often as he could and has just as many memories with our family there as he does here.

There’s a picture that I have, unfortunately not in my possession (it’s in my room at my parents’ house) of my grandfather that last Christmas Eve. It’s by no means a flattering picture, but it’s one I stare at all the time when I have it near me. He’s eating his spaghetti and is looking at the camera as if he was caught off-guard by the person taking the picture. His sweater is brown, over a white checkered collared shirt and both seem too big for him. His forehead is scrunched and what was left of his eyebrows are raised and his eyes, underneath his glasses, are wide. There’s barely a wisp of white hair left on his head that is spotted with liver spots, probably because of the cancer treatments he had been going through. He’s surprised. That image is seared into my memory. I’m sure we have happier looking pictures from that Christmas. I know we do. But that one is one that I kept. My dad buzzed his head over the summer last year and had lost some weight and I got the shock of my life when I Skyped with him and my mom. I was at our family’s house in Italy and hadn’t seen them in person since May. I know he did it because my dad is practical and figured that the shorter he cut his hair, the longer he could wait between cuts (he’s frugal and I love him for it). But he scared the crap out of me. He looked too much like his father in that picture. I mean, I know he is healthy and not nearly as thin, but God, he looked too much like him.

I cried that night. I cried for the memory of my grandfather, the man that I wish I could have known more, the man who tried to teach me his native language when I was learning to talk, the man who watched me with my grandmother every week when my parents were at work. I was his first grandchild and he loved me. I loved him. I still do and I think about him every day. I wonder at my actions and what he would think of me today. I hope I’m making him proud. I really do.

Somehow and at some point, my family landed in New York at the end of February. There was still snow on the ground; a lot of it. I remember my Uncle Stephen, my mother's brother, took my sister and I out to the front lawn of my mom’s parents’s house, with whom we were staying because of all the commotion at my dad’s family’s house, and we made a snowman that was lying on its back. I don’t remember why, but I remember laughing. We made its legs by packing a bucket full of snow and placing it on him. Well, my uncle probably did. My sister was all bundled up with just her little, round like a cherub face and red from the cold, peeking out from her scarf and hat and snow suit. She was so sweet and didn’t understand really what was happening. I talk to her about it now and she has a few sharp memories of these days, but her biggest memory is the lack of one. She was so little when we moved that she never got to know him. I wish you had, baby girl. He was wonderful.

I remember going to the wake. There were so many people and so many flowers. To this day, I can not get a whiff of flowers without having a flashback to that day and that scene. I don’t talk about it much though. There were balloons saying “Loving Husband” and “Wonderful Father.” My grandmother was crying as people consoled her. And I remember this. I wanted to see him, one last time, so I walked straight up to the casket with my sister and stared down at my grandfather. I thought he looked funny. He was skinnier than I had remembered (even at Christmas, he still had a little belly) but it was gone. He had makeup on, from the funeral home mortician, and a suit. I had never seen him in a suit.

Then I did something that my mom told me later that kind of shocked her. I reached out and held his hand and touched his arm and his face. It seemed the right thing to do, but he was cold. The Popi Tony I remember was always warm and smiling and laughing, eyes alive with merriment. Sitting at his kitchen table (which is still in my grandmother’s kitchen; I can’t bring myself to sit at the head of the table where he would always sit) with pants belted around his middle with a plain white undershirt on and slippers. It seemed to be his uniform. Occasionally he’d throw a cardigan on, usually navy blue or green it seemed.

My sister and I didn’t go to the funeral. We were dropped off at my mom’s sister’s place to play with our cousins. Rebecca and Rachel didn’t quite understand what was going on or why were sad. My aunt said something about our grandfather passing and that scared my cousin’s into thinking it was our shared grandfather (who is still alive and kicking, if I might say so). Somehow and at some point, we flew back to California to try and resume our normal lives. I was strange for a while. I didn’t feel like socializing at school and was always looking in the clouds for a sign of him. At night, if I had done something “bad” during the day, I would lie flat on my back with my blanket tucked around me for fear of him coming down from Heaven and smacking my bottom. I had heard stories of my dad getting the belt and I was terrified. I laugh at it now, but it was a real fear for me.

I also wondered, and still do, if we had stayed in New York, would he have lived longer? We were his family. My aunt didn’t marry until after he passed, so when my family moved to California, it was just the three of them. They say you can die of a broken heart. I know I shouldn’t think like this, but I wonder if he sort of gave up fighting, because we were so far away now. I hope he didn’t. Again, time machines would really come in handy for me sometimes.

I miss him. I miss him so much. I think about him every day and wonder what he would think of our lives. Me, on my own up here, working in San Francisco and having spent a summer in his home country. My sister at school in North Carolina, finding herself in the crazy world of college. My aunt married and raising her son in Brooklyn and my grandmother, still living in the house they shared on Long Island. I wish I could talk to him again, see him again. I’ve nearly forgotten what he sounds like and definitely what he smells like. Next time I’m home, I’m making copies of home videos so I can have them for myself.

RIP Antonio Bifulco April 21, 1932 to February 26, 1996. Ti amo e mi manchivi molto.

Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert

This book has been on my radar for quite some time, but I never had time to read it or see the movie (which I sooo want to do, even after reading the book). Finally I got the chance (thank you, $3 book sale at Borders..you make my life. I’m going to miss you when you’re gone.) and absolutely tore through the book. I could not put it down. Generally I try to keep my book reading to the train because I want to make them last as long as possible. Not with this one. I couldn’t put it down. I would read on the morning ride, the evening ride AND before bed. Which is highly dangerous for me, because I tend to lose track of time and before I know it, it’s much later than I wanted it to be. Anyways, I LOVED this book. Elizabeth Gilbert, your writing is magical. I truly felt like I was there. My favorite part of the book (because I’m biased) was her story about her time in Rome. I felt like I was there with her and since I’ve been there before I could picture somewhat the places she was talking about. I only wished that she had talked more about her trip to Florence (I swear I miss that beautiful city more and more each passing day).

               The fact that this all took place after she had gone through the worst part of her life was incredible. When she talked about her divorce and depression, I felt, again, that I was there with her and I just wanted to reach out to her after I had finished reading and see if she was ok. Which is completely silly because she is perfectly fine now and happily married to the love she found at the end of the book. That was another thing I loved about this book. It’s a real story. It wasn’t a made up novel. I am really beginning to like biographies. I used to think of them as dry and boring but if they’re written in the right tone and it’s a good story, I can just eat it up (no pun intended).

               I highly recommend this book to anyone and everyone, men and women included. She is a fantastic writer and I plan on finding all of her other books and reading them as well. She even has a quasi-sequel to Eat, Pray, Love that is about marriage and her journey to her current marriage.  

Stones into Schools

     So per my previous post, here is my so-called "review" of the second book I read. It's a book that a year ago I probably would not have read. Stones into Schools is the follow up book to Three Cups of Tea, the biography of American climber Greg Mortensen. I had heard of Three Cups of Tea because it was gaining so much notoriety and being read by friends and family (my sister had to read it her junior year of high school) and then was assigned to read it for my anthropology class last fall. I loved the book. We only had to read up to a certain point, but I devoured the entire thing. I would say it was more pleasure reading than assignment reading. Mortensen’s story is truly amazing. If you haven’t read the book, you need to. In fact, if you’re at a certain level in the U.S. Military,  you have to read it. But I digress. The first book is written in third person, as Mortensen had help writing it. “Stones” is written in the first person and it is clear that Mortensen was the lead writer on this one. And it is wonderful. He really makes you feel like you are zipping round Pakistan and Afghanistan with him, and spending torturous months back in the U.S. after the 2005 devastating Pakistan earthquake. He writes it with an ease that makes you not believe him when he swears that public speaking and writing are not his areas of expertise. I was transported to a different world, a world that I am sad to say I really didn’t know much about. When the Pakistan earthquake occurred, I knew about it on a surface level but really didn’t pay much attention to it. I wish I had. 
     What his organization, the Central Asia Institute, has done is truly amazing. Since they started building schools in 1997, and up to the point of this books release, they have built 145 schools focusing on education for girls throughout Pakistan and Afghanistan. This feat is absolutely staggering given the attitude towards women in those countries, especially the rural areas. But look at me, I'm getting a little too outside my comfort zone.
     It was an amazing book and I strongly recommend both books to anyone who is looking for a new and interesting read. It really takes you to a different place and that, in my opinion, is the real purpose of books. To transport us to places we can't physically be at that moment.

        

Books, Books, Books

     Over the last month, I have been able to do something again which I really haven’t had time for over the last four years (even if I did sneak it in, therefore sacrificing study time): read for pleasure. My hour long train ride to and from San Fran daily has given me the time to actually read again. And oh boy am I ever. I’ve read about 4 books over the last 4 weeks. Some heavy, some lighthearted. I went a little crazy at the sale bin at Borders.

Now I’m not going to try to fool myself into thinking I can pose as a book reviewer. I promise you that. But I will be reflecting on what I read and writing about them here. I started this out as one long post but I realized I wouldn’t be able to without producing a massively long and drawn out post. SO, my new plan is that for every book I read, I will write on post about after. I’ll do my best to do this shortly after, or else I’ll have to go back and read that book again. And again. Aaand again.

     Here’s a quick one on the first book I read. And it’s quick because this book was a very quick read, but probably the most fun.

     The first book I read was a quick read, mainly because it was written in a way that those of my generation can’t seem to get enough of. The name: Twitterature. Yes, you read that correctly. This book is in short, amazing. It is a collection of all the great works of literature, minimized to 40 tweets or less, and each tweet has to be 140 characters or less. So that means I read all the greats in about 5 minutes each. It’s the most entertaining way of figuring out if you want to dive into the unabridged version, which I may very well do, once I’m done reading the 10 other books I bought on the first round. Follow the link here and read about it. http://www.twitterature.us/us/index.htm.  It was put together by two freshmen at the University of Chicago. Can you imagine being 19 years old and already having a book published through Penguin Books? Nice!

Feeling Nostalgic

              I get into a mood every once in a while, when I peruse Facebook and look up old high school classmates or community college classmates to see where they are in their lives (ahh the beauty of FB and its non-communicating communication abilities). It gets me thinking about the time in my life when I met them, when it seemed that I was around them every day and couldn’t remember what life was like before meeting them. It was my daily routine. Natural to me to see them and talk to them and to know little details of their lives. Now, it’s me looking at big happenings in their lives because it shows up on the newsfeed. I’ll admit it, I’m a curious Facebooker. I like to look into pictures. It makes me smile and happy to see people I once knew so well doing so well in their lives.

               Another component of looking at their lives now and wistfully looking back is to show myself how far I’ve come and what I’ve done over the last few years of my life. I know I’ve talked about this before, but I still can’t believe how much life has changed over the last 5 years. Five years ago, I was embarking on my last semester of high school. Oh my goodness. Now that feels like forever ago. That’s right, my five year reunion is technically this June. Do we need one? Hell no. Our generation is different from our parents in that if you have the tiniest desire to keep slightly in touch with high school classmates, you can, as I mentioned before. If our parents lost touch of a classmate, well then it’d take a miracle to find them again. Or Facebook if they’re tech savvy, which most of them are. My dad got on Facebook and promptly was found by at least 20 old high school classmates. I wish I could have been a fly on a wall in his high school days, and my moms. Just to see what they were like. If I was anything like them. I think I was like my mom. Bookish and sweet. Not  too many friends and not part of the in crowd but not a total wall flower either.

               Anyways I’m getting off track. I tend to do that with these posts. As I was saying, I’m nostalgic. High school nostalgic, community college nostalgic and even a little SJSU nostalgic. That part of my life was so recent and ended even more recent that I really haven’t had a chance to get nostalgic. Although this past summer definitely lends itself to that. I think it’s because the people I surrounded myself with over the summer are so far flung from me now. I Skyped this morning, while getting ready for work, with a friend in England, who is coming back to the states in two days to stay with his girlfriend, another friend we hung out with over summer. Another girl wrote on my wall saying she missed me. That’s what got me thinking. So thank you Kimmy & you’re beautiful too J. Then I started looking at old high school classmates. And most of my high school classmates were also my junior high and elementary school classmates. How strange that I don’t talk to really any of them. I see that a lot of them still do see each other often and it makes me wonder what life would be like if I had too.

              Oh well. Here’s to being nostalgic J. 

Life Changes In A Flash

12:30 p.m.

This time last week, I was walking out of an interview, with an internship offer floating in my mind, and my voice gleefully yelling into the phone, “MOM! I got an offer!!” More gleeful yelling commenced, as my mom was at work on her lunch break and all of her coworkers could hear and as they had been hoping I would get something soon, they cheered as well. It was a happy moment, mixed with the fear that I was going to get a ticket in San Francisco for leaving my car a minute too long in its street parking stall. Don’t worry I made it back to the car on time and breathed a HUGE sigh of relief and then screamed with happiness. Hey, I’m in SF, people do stranger things every day.

               Now, I am on my lunch break on my third day of aforementioned internship. I.Love.It.  Looooove it. The staff meeting on Monday completely opened my eyes and ears and I knew right then that this was going to be a good fit for me and a great opportunity. I am at an agency who deals with multiple clients and in the staff meeting, we went through all of them, providing updates and ideas for ongoing projects. The ease at which ideas flew around the room and the conversational tone of it all made me smile and think “oh yeah, I know this is where I’m supposed to be.” I think the words “I am with my people!” came to mind. I was busy that day, and yesterday and today. Busy little bee. Thank goodness, because two weeks ago, I was sitting on the couch at home running through a huge list of PR firms in the Bay Area and sending out resume after resume. That’s what I mean about life changes in a flash. It literally did. I got the offer on Wednesday and started the next Monday. That quick. In fact, Monday marked exactly one month since I graduated from SJSU.

               I know that I am lucky to have found something so fast. I have to pinch myself to make sure this is real and then stick it in my head to work my booty off to make sure that I deserve the luck that life has given me. At PR day, two months ago, our keynote speaker talked about how most of finding a job was luck. Yes, skills and connections helped, but timing…timing is everything. The luck of timing has been on my side for a long time. It started with getting into SJSU. I had already enrolled in a different school but unfortunately that school, which I steadfastly believed to be my dream school was about $30,000 above my budget. Per year. Yikes. So instead I took a semester off, worked two jobs and applied to CSU’s. SJSU was my top choice and I got in. I transferred mid-year and this is where timing was on my side. It was far easier to get in mid-year as a transfer than in the fall, first of all. Second, the following spring semester (Spring ’10) was shut down for any transfers. At all. My class was the last class to get in mid-year and to avoid the difficulty of everything being impacted. Whew. And now, timing is on my side. The market has absolutely been horrible for finding a job, but now it’s looking up and companies and agencies are hiring again. They want to hire the lowest billable possible but they’re hiring. Which gives hope my fellow graduates and me.

               So two years ago, I was just starting at SJSU, fresh-faced and alone in a new, strange city. A year ago, I was on the board for PRSSA, forging friendships and professional connections and continuing to find myself. Now, I’m a college grad and an intern at an amazing agency in a gorgeous city. Life changes in a flash.