The twerking sensation that’s sweeping the nation!

The world of unemployment has made Triki a very dull and boring creature. I spend my days editing pictures, negatively criticizing my work, and browsing any and all websites hoping to find a job that remotely interests me.

It’s this grand fareniente that has enabled me to observe a little closely the world around me back at home. I think more anthropologists should focus their energies on suburbia than remote African tribes. What goes on here is pretty interesting (see: terrible) because it’s a microcosm of our society as a whole.

Or, I mean, I could be wrong.

(Or I could be totally right. All comments and opinions welcomed).

I was trying to steer clear, to not hop on the Miley Cyrus bandwagon of “OMG what a train wrecckkk!” but alas, I got me a ticket with a window seat (I have to see the wing when there is turbulence- don’t judge) and I’m jumping right in.

The thing that bothers me about the situation is not this girl herself. Nope. It’s not her hair, it’s not that she (tried to) twerk onstage, blah blah blah. What bothers me is us.

Us? But why!? We are above reproach! Look at us condeming this fool to hell because she’s doing what we expected her to do from day one anyway!
Oh noooeeeezzzz!!
But yes! This is exactly what’s wrong! We are a mass of disillusioned, hypocritical, brain dead beings! (Did I sound too harsh? Yay!)

Why is this so shocking? Are you telling me this little 20-year-old wearing high-wasted pleather panties and bra made you blush with her silly moves? Really?

In a world where we idolize sex symbols and we ourselves leave very little to the imagination (that’s right, I’ve seen those #workout pictures on instagram) we’re going to grab onto this all-too-easy scapegoat?

That’s some bullshit.

We all expected this girl to become a trainwreck- it seems to be the normal path for children who are exposed to excess at a very young age (remember Lindsey? Demi? Brinety?) and now, we’ve created little monsters out of them by supporting the very institutions that enable them to become the laughingstock of our society.

Why is all of this so shocking anyway? Because the media says it.

It’s the MTV Music Awards! Didn’t Li’l Kim wear some crazy get-up in ’99 where her whole boob was showing? (I remember this because I was 11, and all I wanted to see was the Backstreet Boys), didn’t Britney kiss Madonna? Didn’t Christina Aguilera too? How come they only latched onto Britney? Because she was far more popular, because magazines and journals knew that they would reach a wider audience by focusing on Britney and not the other hot chick on the other side of Madonna. It’s “shocking” because the bold black lettering says it is. And because we don’t stop to question or to even think.

We all knew what we’re getting ourselves into when we gather ‘round the TV to see all these entertainers. It’s the perversion that we have as human beings that makes us watch this, seek the weakest link and then run with it.

I saw Rihanna judging. But who is she to judge?

Furthermore, who are we to judge? We glorify ourselves and our sex appeal via Instagram, Vine, Facebook- our outlets are endless and yet we focus on one single little event because hey! We haven’t had any “shocking” events recently.
(Yes, each word is a different link).

When Janet Jackson had her infamous “wardrobe malfunction”, I think we failed to ask the right questions. Instead of instating that 2-second delay for live TV, why don’t we direct our attention at the fact that, ahem, someone was grabbing her breast when this whole ordeal occurred? Hm?

We complain so much about women being objects but then again, we glorify and we are entertained by the fact that it is a common occurrence. 
I was reading an article that, though very eloquent, it failed to convey a strong message. It talked about racism and how black women were used onstage as objects. This was touched upon by someone from some place in Cyberspace called Big Tittie Committee, or something like that. Um. Hi, let me dust my graduate linguistics degree and simply say that by using the word “tittie”, the author is now placing herself (or himself, we never know anymore!) in a sexual context. By introducing yourself into this universe, and producing work that comes from this very source, you become them. Your arguments against misogynistic attitudes should now be taken a little bit less seriously, thanks to this.
But then again, it’s the little details that are overlooked. 

 Maybe when we stop putting others onstage to give us a freak show so we can then judge them, we can evolve as a society. It’s not racism, it’s not (over)sexualization, it’s that we let ourselves be led on. 

As a whole, we are the ones who truly give importance to things, that’s why we are targeted. When the media says jump, instead of asking “how high?” we should look at them closely, and question them.

So, how about we put a nail on this coffin and move on? This is not worth keeping up to then have it be forgotten in about a week or so.

Right, Occupiers? 

Next move

I’m from nowhere. You can’t ask me to lower an anchor and have me grow roots in a single place. It’s just impossible.

Though I’ve not experienced much, I have had a taste, a delicious morcel, of what hopping from place to place feels like. As disconcerting as it is- as confusing as it leaves you feeling, panting and bewildered in a corner, the thrill is sweet.

Although this year was excruciatingly painful, and little reminders still come crawling from the shadows now and then, I am ready to do it all over again.
You can’t ask me to stay put. You can’t ask me to go get a nice job, melt into the crowd and one day say how I wish I had done something differently. I don’t feel like I was made to stay in one place, to just go along with the flow of things. No. I was made to be awed. I was made to learn. I was made to relish in little everyday miracles. I was not made to ignore the beauty that life has to offer. Nothing for me is trivial. I choose to live my life like there’s magic in every nook and cranny because otherwise, what fun is it?

Mind you, getting an email from BNP Paribas telling me my Parisian account has been overdrafted is not anything magical, but hey! Technology and the fact that I was able to live in France is a little exciting, no?

Today I find myself facing uncertainty.

Last time I found myself here, I remember being very afraid. It was in early 2012- I had recently been unceremoniously fired from a part-time job as a receptionist I held since 2009, without notice and without explanation. A simple “Hi, don’t come back Monday” (to the day I still wonder what it was that I did that was unforgivable). I also found myself in the confusion that is puppy love. Oh, if I would have known what was coming up later that year! At any rate, to make the story short (not my forte, ever), last time I found myself facing nothing but confusion, I ended up being whisked away by the adventure that was Middlebury- the “monastic” life in Vermont and then the chaos that was Paris.

I am to return to Miami tomorrow. The idyllic days of the student life are over. 
People are excited. Oh, yes. I went around for a year from place to place “representing”- carrying with me the name of Miami. I went around carrying my “Miami attitude”; telling stories to anyone who would listen (and even those who would not) about my magical home. But who would have thought that in a few short months, my attitude would change. I seldom use “Miami” now. The “305” sign has been thrown up in pictures less and less. I’m no longer “Miss three-oh-five”, as I used to proudly be nicknamed by friends. Going back to South Florida indefinitely (for now), feels a little wrong. 

I was very close to moving to Puerto Rico. I was being offered what was a great position as a Spanish/French teacher at a private school. The cycle of interviews went great. The offer was made and, as luck would have it, the pay, though competitive for the island, was terrible for a recent graduate facing relocation. Crest-fallen, I had to decline the offer. Though it sounds like a huge contradiction to the whole tone of the post, the responsibilities that would be thrust upon me were far too great for the amount of monetary remuneration. It was a choice made with logic at its apex. The story can be tedious, so I will spare the details for now. After an attempt at negotiation and sugar-coating of conditions from the school, I declined them a second time. Puerto Rico would have been an escape. But only cowards escape. 

So now, I have no job, no prospect of a job, and a thirst to part once more. 

I am currently in Montréal (a last respit before drawing up a plan of action), holding a graduate degree in one hand and the traditional walking cane given to graduates in the other hand. But if it’s analyzed closely, my hands are full. My hands hold my orb and scepter. As regent of my life, I choose what to do now. As protector, I dictate what will be best for me.  I have found patience and serenity in the past and, furthermore, I know I am better prepared, better armed, to face the unknown and throw myself into it. The more I think about it, the more comfortable I grow in the idea that I am fully free to do as I wish right now. All it needs is a little push. And this push will most likely come from life back in Miramar. 

Adventure, for me, is not defined as skydiving out of a plane, nor surfing waves. Nope. That may be part of an adventure. For me the meaning of the word is to simply throw myself, with open arms, to the uncertainty of the future.

I may just never be able to go on a Nepalese excursion, or bathe in the beaches of Bali (damn, that was some nice alliteration!), but I give myself willingly to the future and the fights I will have to put up to not become complacent.

Update and parting ways

Welp, I’m back! 

Why have I not been here in such a long time? Well…there are many reasons.
Actually, no. Just one: Lack of stimulation.
It’s not that I have not been stimulated academically- it’s that I have not had any sort of feeling for anything anymore. It’s a little sad, actually. But the realization was, to say the least, refreshing. 

Summer at ClubMidd has been fun. I have met new people who, in 6 short weeks, have made a positive impact in my life. They have pried my eyes open to certain facts I was oblivious to; they’ve made me laugh until I have to run to the bathroom, and one in particular has shown me far more kindness than I deserve. 

There’s always a sad side to it, though. This Friday we all must part ways. I knew the date was fast approaching, but it was actually up until a few minutes ago that it was explicitly expressed. My stomach sank to my ankles. I think it was that feeling that prompted me to start writing again.
On Saturday, the first one left. I’m not good with goodbyes or ‘see you laters’, so I always make them quick, as if we were going to see each other again at dinnertime. I never look back after I say goodbye. I try not to think about it because, well, it overwhelms me (also, because I’m a little bitch). 
But this Friday I say goodbye to a wonderful group of people- the ones that stuck it out with me during this crazy year; the only ones who would fully understand what it’s like to live through the year I did. My party companions, my tourism partners, my métro fellows- my home away from home. 
I am incredibly happy to have crossed paths with these wonderful people- they’ve filled my life with laughter, with support, with love. I can’t just give them each a kiss on the cheek and wish them a good night. 
Life has begun.
Some are off to new ventures- one moves from the West Coast to the East Coast to begin a career, another will go from a Caribbean paradise to New York City to begin work as well. Three of us remain in limbo, but I am not concerned. We’ve been trained to succeed and inside all of us there is a thirst to succeed. Maybe we won’t get to be presidents (notice the “maybe”), but we will attain personal satisfaction, whatever our road may be. Once accomplished, I don’t believe anything in the world would be better. One thing is for certain though, whatever choice we take- whatever move we make, or have already made- will (and has required!) courage. 

Sometimes the little things are a mask for something far deeper and far more complex than we dare to imagine.