Stolen Manhood

This morning I was assigned the malicious task of transporting my family's cat, Boondock, to the vet to be "fixed", a term that is appropriately obnoxious. What was wrong with the cat that required this inhumane operation? Ya, he could be considered spunky, possibly even annoying, but its an animal. I think we expect too much from the behavior of our pets. Cats and dogs have been domesticated for thousands of years, but can we really hold them to that kind of lofty standard? Poor Boone wasn't instructed under the tutelage of his parents. He didn't have a mentor that told him, "don't scratch furniture or jump on tables, or they'll take away your manhood". What's worse is that we now consider it irresponsible to not "fix" our pets, and it's even broadcasted during The Price is Right. Who can we blame for turning our beloved animals into a bunch of barren eunuchs? Christians have obviously made it difficult with their stringent anti-abortion laws. Animals rights groups certainly need to take some blame here as well. They were all up in arms over the Michael Vick debacle, yet they support the castration of thousands of helpless animals. And how can we ignore Bob Barker? He could have chosen any charitable project in the world, yet he chose this. What kind of sicko would put this kind of an effort into stealing my cat's instinctual identity? Maybe his part in Happy Gilmore was a lot more accurate than anyone gave him credit for. All I know is that when I return home, and look into the eyes of my mini tiger, something is going to be missing. Worst of all, he is forever going to associate me with this horrific day, for putting him in a cramped crate and driving him to his eventual demise. He is never going to trust me again. I am sorry that we had to do this Boondock, and I am especially sorry that I played such an integral role in all of this.

I don't want to die without any scars.

"You have a class of young strong men and women, and they want to give their lives to something.  Advertising has these people chasing cars and clothes they don't need.  Generations have been working in jobs they hate, just so they can buy what they don't really need".  ~Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

I woke up this morning with an overwhelming urge to do something out of the ordinary...

Today I followed the same course of action, the same routine as I have done just about every morning since returning from my trip. I Was robbed of my dreams by an alarm, delayed the inevitable 5 minutes at a time with my snooze button, and eventually got up. I sloppily made my bed, brushed my teeth, and quickly ate a banana as I drove to the gym. I worked out for a little over an hour, returned home, showered, drank coffee, and drove to work. Luckily, I enjoy my job. Working for my father's business has been an epiphany of sorts. I get to exercise my creativity and follow my own schedule, while seeing my efforts directly leading to the success of the company. Unfortunately there are too many others out there that remain stifled by their restraining routines.

On this particular morning I got to thinking about how controlled everything is. Most of us are blindly and even more tortorously, knowingly following a path carved out by the trailblazers before us. As humans, we have an inate desire to explore, to hunt, to chase, to adventure, yet we have no avenue to exercise these desires. Some of us go to the gym, play sports, shop, eat, travel, take drugs, drink, have families in oder to fill this void in our souls. We have no great war that unites us, but we have a "great recession" that only inhibits us further. I can't stand hearing, "you can't do that, you can't afford it". That's bullshit, that's why we have credit (probably not the best attitude). As the population grows to obscene levels, and the number of leaches consuming the garbage that is thrown our way bythe media and advertising execs becomes the majority, we in the middle are restricted further and further.

Right now I want nothing more than to cause mayhem, to remind everyone that we are free, that we don't have to follow the rules and conventions set for us. We are more powerful than we think, and we are the ones getting in our own way. All of these thoughts reminded me of one of my favorite movies; Fight Club. In an interview in 1999, Oscar nominated director, David Fincher said this, "We're designed to be hunters and we're in a society of shopping.  There's nothing to kill anymore, there's nothing to fight, nothing to overcome, nothing to explore.  In that societal emasculation this everyman is created". Fincher's most recent fim, "The Social Network" is the most relevant and discussed fim of 2010. You can actually see the similarities between that and "Fight Club"; a young man fighting the conventional rules of society in order to create a unique idea, and creating mayhem in the process. Im not sure what my idea is yet, but I'd like to start by doing something completely out of the ordinary...

Sports; The Most Addictive Drug in America

So the much anticipated and overevaluated showdown between Bill Belichick and Rex Ryan turned out to be one of the most anticlimactic sporting events I've ever sat through. The Jets came to Foxboro with a better, more creative gameplan coupled with far more grit, and belittled the Patriots on offense and defense. Tom Brady will not be remembered as an MVP or playoff hero, but for his prudent audibles and lack of fortitude under pressure. Please spare me the best quarterback of all time argument or even Tom vs Peyton debate. In the last three years that Hollywood Tom has been in the playoffs, we have watched him lose composure when it has mattered the most. In 2007, his historical offense was thwarted by the overpowering defensive line of the Giants. We watched from home as Eli Manning did what tom could not; elude the rush and make a big play. Last year the Ravens entered Foxboro as underdogs, and made the Pats look feable in their attempt to continue owning the title; "unbeatable at home". This year it was the loud-mouthed Jets that embarrassed New England in front of their home crowd. Now, as fans, we will need to wait patiently as the final 4 teams remaining have it out in their respective conference championships.

Let me be the first to say that the NFL is dead to me until draft day. I have such a terrible taste in my mouth, like the one you wake up with after a heavy night of drinking and neglecting to brush your teeth. As enticing as it is to sit down on a Saturday/Sunday night with friends and watch these games with beverages and snacks, I will not. Instead, I choose to omit the remainder of the season from my life. Following a professional team the correct way takes a whole lot of time and energy, both of which come at a premium at this point in my life. Sports act as a fantasticdeterrant to reality the same way a drug would, giving us both reason and excuse to ignore the responsibilities around us. Fans pour not only their well-earned dollars into this hobby, but also their heart and souls. Now fans have a choice; go back to reality or fill the void with something else? There are plenty of other sports to follow, nevermind that the Red Sox look more promising now than in any of their World Series seasons. My best guess is that fans will follow football through the Superbowl, pick up college basketball for conference championship season and eventually March Madness, then turn to baseball once spring training is in full swing. This is exactly what the sporting industry wants us to do so that they don't miss a beat with tv programming and in turn, ratings. It's the neverending cycle of the sporting year, and we consume it like a drug. Should we blame ESPN? The answer is no, we should take the responsibility for our consumption of the same old, tired storylines and rivalries. The reason ESPN gets away with is is because we will take the time to watch. If I see one more recycled story about a David vs Goliath in college basketball or bad guy gone good in the NFL or NBA (see Vick, Michael), than Im going to be sick. Sports are a drug, and we are giving those who feed us too much of our time, energy, and money. I hope that there is a lockout in the NFL next year, it will force us all to go back to reality. Or maybe we will just fill the void with something less wholesome...

A Belated New Years Toast

New Years Eve;  the promise of a good house party, a midnight kiss, and the inevitable blackout with your friends, whats not to love? For me, it is the way that the media looks back on the previous year, the history that was made, and the people that we've lost.  People cry about getting older, talk about what fun times they had, and make forced resolutions that they probably won't keep (just take a look at any gym's attendance in January compared to May). Im not above this custom, in fact I've done it for years, but life as a producer has changed me. It's so easy as a student to simply fall in line with the flow of the masses because you spend so much time socializing and with streaming media. However, once you enter the rat race your vision becomes more clear. The past has very little bearing on your life because there is nothing you can do about it. There is just too little space in our brains to dwell on events and circumstances we cannot control. Instead I choose to focus all possible positive energy on the present, and put myself in best position to succeed in the future. So, in celebration of this sentiment, here is a list of things I look forward to in 2011:

• Learning more about the flooring business.
• Contributing to the growth of The Carpet Workroom.
• Learning as much as possible about owning and managing my own business and actually putting it into action.
• Helping my sister move in the right direction after making the wise decision that as an 18-year-old girl with a blurry vision of the future, a $50,000/year education was not for her.
• Actually building a savings account.
• Becoming more politically active, apathy has gotten me nowhere.
• Not being taken advantage of by the Archdiocese of Boston.
• Further persuing the ability to dunk a basketball.
• My first coaching win of the year.
• Visting the west coast for only the second time in 26 years.
• Traveling to Asia so that I can actually make money as an ESL teacher.
• Paying off some of my paralyzing student debt.
• Learning how to dance Salsa.
• Watching Carl Crawford and Adrien Gonzalez wearing Red Sox uniforms.
• Growing out my hair to ridiculous lengths. Yup, you may even see me in a ponytail.
• Refining my writing skills through this blog.
• and probably hundreds of other things that I cannot possibly account for...

Here's to adapting, let us raise our glasses and make things happen in 2011...

Roadtrippin' with my Partner in Crime

We spent our first couple of days in dirty San Jose saying goodbye to my departing freinds and touring the place I called home. We shared a domestic evening with my former host family where we provided parting gifts while they served as a traditional Tico dish. We were anxious to escape the harsh city life and explore the plush wilderness so we quickly took a bus to the Guanacaste region that covers most of the Pacific coastline and Nicoya Peninsula. We decided that a touristy surf town called Tamarindo would be our destination, and a hostel aptly named "Pura Vida" our temporary home. We quickly and coincidentally met a guy named Chance from Alaska and a few other travelers from Scotland, LA, and Sweden. We arrived too late to view the sunset so we went right into eating and drinking. First, we had the best meal either of us has had in a long while at a small, open-aired restaurant called Dragonfly. Eventually we sauntered to a liquor store that also served as a bar and got caught up in the best nightlife in town. Some tequila and a few cervesas later, we stumbled back to our dorm and retired for the night. We awoke early the next day, switched rooms for privacy sake, and for only $30 a night achieved a queen sized bed and air conditioning. Our goal in Tamarindo was to learn how to surf. It would be my second time, Christina's first, and I proved to be a far better learner than teacher. Christina stood a couple of times but retired early citing frustration while I was able to find far more consistency than my first attempt. During a luch break with Chance we ironically ran into a friend of mine from Canton. It was their last night so we partied again, saying farewell to Chance and helping Chris court an American hippie working as a teacher. We finally caught a sunset, my first since arriving in Costa Rica, and we spent our last day preparing for departure and making dinner in our immaculately kept, open-aired kitchen.

The next morning we departed for the cloud forest of Monteverde and a town called Santa Elena. For $25/night we made a home at Cabinas Eddy which was owned by a very welcoming family of two generations and a dueling pair of pets. There, we defied gravity on the longest ziplining tour in Costa Rica while dodging howler monkeys and gazing at amazing butterflies fit for Pandora. We had dinner and drinks in a tree house, and listened to our canopy guide and a local drummer cover reggae songs with an acoustic guitar at a local club. We left after a couple of days and returned back to the valley below. With Thanksgiving and Christina's birthday approaching we wanted to veer from hostel life and stay somewhere a bit more elegant. Christina wanted to see a volcano and I knew the perfect one. I emailed the wakeboarder I befriended on my previous excursion to Arenal because he had mentioned before that he and his girlfriend operated a local bed and breakfast. He replied with an amazing offer we couldn't refuse; $50 to stay one night in a "palace" at the base of the volcano. We arrived after a 5 hour jaunt through the mountains on a jeep, then a boat, and back on a jeep. The views of Lake Arenal were painstakingly beautiful and serene, still untouched by the growing commerce. The place wasn't exactly a palace but acted as a fitting place to give thanks for all the good in our lives. I was able to watch a bit of the Patriot's game before going to collect food for Thanksgiving dinner. When the sun went down, Jonny and Sofia brought us to the local's hot spring. There we chased a buzz while wading in the swift, steaming river flowing from the heart of the volcano by candle light. We returned to cook our meal and fell asleep on the veranda to the sound of tropical rain. We never got a chance to see the volcano due to intense fog, but the trip was a success and we had the Caribbean playground of Puerto Viejo ahead of us.

A shuttle ride to the middle of nowehere, 90 minutes waiting for a public bus, and a 3 hour ride to the Caribbean standing in the aisle of a sweltering bus was how we spent the first half of Christina's 25th birthday. Anyone else would have dropped me by then, but she stuck with me even when I dragged her to the moldy tents of Rocking J's. I don't know if it was the abundance of alcohol, the birthday pineapple I surprised her with, or the spectacular beaches and easygoing atmosphere of the small rasta town, but we were able to have a great night. Unfortunately, on our bike ride to the beach the following morning, it began to rain. Our day on the beach was thwarted, but we salvaged the day at The Jaguar Rescue Center where we socialized with monkeys, gawked at sloths, and actually learned a good deal from our guide. The following day the sun finally came out and we explored the beaches. We spent the morning at the local beach with a professional snowboarder from France named Chris and his quiet lady friend before biking to nearby Punta Uva, probably the most scenic beach I've ever walked on. We napped in the shade of the mangrove forest and enjoyed watching the sun go down behind the trees, offering the most colorful afternoon either of us could remember. We slept in hammocks on an open air platform that night thankful that we were finally allowed our day in the sun.

Eventually we made it back to the Central Valley to say goodbye to our new friends and the troical land that played host to this amazing adventure. We left exhausted on November 31st and arrived back to Reality on the first of December.

Life After Maximo

I have now been home a full month, endured the gluttony of the holidays amidst continuous harassment by my new neighbors in Newton, and couldn't be happier looking to cover the clean slate with colorful experiences that come with the new year. I am still astonished at the rate in which time passes in the United States. One month back in the rat race and I am already having a difficult time remembering the different lessons I learned while traveling abroad. Fantasies of long term travel and learning new cultures while teaching English have given way to social media, online marketing, conversations with lawyers, and the sale and use of rugs. I had no idea how much education I would need in order to enter the world of floor covering. From Wiltons to loop piles, Karastand to Shaw, and sisals to bolon, there is a whole new jargon I have learned and will continue to research in the coming year. But before I shift my thinking to that, I want to share how I spent my last few weeks in paradise...

Upon finishing my time in San Jose, I relocated roughly 20 kilometers away in the former capitol of Costa Rica, Cartago. There, I resided with my friends Martin and Chelsea, my new family run by the matriarch, Vicky, and 10 university students attending the nearby technical school. For $260/month we enjoyed room and board, 3 meals a day, and laundry. I spent my days studying Spanish on Live Mocha, sneaking into the University's gym, refining my blog and wandering around my new city. I traveled back to San Pedro often to visit the Lorias and share cervesas with my old friends at Maximo. I basically lived life as a Tico student and filled my head with plans I intended to put into practice upon my return home. The days passed slowly and I began to grow anxious wondering about my incumbent departure from my suspension of reality. On the weekends I continued to travel. I spent three days traveling solo to a place called La Fortuna that sat in the shadows of one of the world's most active volcanoes, Arenal. There I met fellow travelers, drank some litros, waded in the natural hot springs, and went on a 15 kilometer hike with a Dutch traveler named Geert. We swam in the translucent waters at the base of the spectacular Fortuna Waterfall and hiked to the top of Arenal's older brother, gazing into the green waters of Cerro Chato. At first I was discouraged by the way in which the tourism industry stole the innocence from this beautiful place, but I was relieved after finding that not everything in La Fortuna had been stripped of it's natural essence. The following weekend Martin and I were invited to spend our TEFL instructor, Iani's birthday at a bed and breakfast in the mountains of Heredia. We had no idea what to expect, but we were welcomed by Iani's British friend Emily that was house sitting and managing this mountaintop villa. We spent the night doing the usual while experiencing one of the most unusual and overwhleming views of the dim lights of the Central Valley which looked like fireflies. We spent the next day trespassing through a neighboring coffee plantation en route to another waterfall, this one polluted by rainswept garbage rather than awestruck tourists. Then, on the 18th of November, Christina arrived with a backpack as big as her small frame and an even bigger smile after our 10 week seperation.