As you wish

Why is it that we are told to do what "is right" and not what we want? If you are lucky enough to want what is right...you are the minority, my friend. You see, I'm pushing 30 and now we are "grown ups". Whatever that means. People want you to start taking life seriously: finish university, get a career, buy a house, get married and have babies....settle down. Besides finishing school, I have no (immediate) yearning for the rest.

I have a group of amazing friends that know me better than people I have known my entire life. Of course, when shit hits the fan, I turn to them for a shoulder...an ear...a bottle of wine. They give me advice that I know I should listen to. I know that they are right. I know that they have MY best interest in mind, that they are on the outside looking in and sometimes, it's the clearest view. But you know what? I also know that I am as stubborn as a bull and that I am going to do whatever it is that I want. I walk to the beat of my own drum...and normally, it's off beat.

Six months ago I had a successful job that I was good at. No, sorry, this is my blog so I can say it...I was GREAT at it. I had my own place, bought anything I wanted, took myself on fancy vacations and was the epitome of an independent woman.  I know that it sounds like I am full of myself but really, I'm proud of myself. Since I could remember, my mother raised me to be self sufficient and boy did she do a damn good job. Then, I made a life changing decision. Quit everything...my job, give up my place, and basically abandon the only life I have ever known, to move abroad. One friend asked me, "why would you give up a good job?" I told him that I was not in it to feed my wallet..I was in it to feed my soul. In layman's terms, cos I wanted to...

So I am told being with him is the "right" thing to do.  He would take care of me, cherish me and love me 'till the ends of the world.  I would be a kept woman and in societies definition, I would be....happy.  Sure, it makes sense enough.  But what if what I want is the him.  The crazy mixed up fucken love that drives you absolutely insane.  God knows we drive each other up the wall...constantly. But I kinda like that in a masochistic kind of way.  Then, what if I change my mind.  I can do that....right?  Because who says you HAVE to get married?  Lots of my friends were and are lucky enough to have found that one person in this WHOLE WIDE WORLD that makes them complete.  But, I have come to terms with it...I.AM.NOT.THAT.GIRL. (if you don't know it, listen to "Not that Girl" from the Wicked soundtrack)

I told my mother the other day that my dream is NOT to be a home owner.  I am perfectly happy with owning a condo or renting an apartment.  She couldn't wrap her head around this.  For me, owning a home would anchor me down to one place that I MUST live in for years to come.  Life throws so many curve balls at you, sometimes you have to be ready to move forward and not look back.  For those that know me, you know that I am a nomad.  I move...what....twice a year...on average?  Being a free spirit is exhilarating in that way.  Home is where the heart is and frankly, I have left a little pieces of my heart everywhere.

People tell me that I "do what I want"...and the fact of the matter is...I do.  But I don't get it...why wouldn't you do what you want?  Why do we have to fall in line like drones and abide by the ideal life that is force fed down our throats?  Life is too short to follow all the rules.  But don't take my word for it...I have paid the price a thousand times.  But the beauty in it all...I don't regret a thing.

"If we always learned from our mistakes

I would be a genius by now"

Mistakes suck, but they make for amazing stories.  Ask my friends.

No words can express...

As I was preparing to leave the states to begin my new journey overseas, I told everyone I would blog about my adventures.  I assured my friends and family that they would be able to experience Firenze through me.  Obviously, I have been failing miserably.  Those that know me, know that I can tell stories for days...it's the writing that I am not so good at. 

I have now spent 6 weeks in Firenze and posted two posts...about the same story.  At least it was a good story.  Now, to be honest, not all my experiences here are "shareable" since my family does follow this blog...and Mom, I swear I have been a good little Christian girl.  And contrary to popular belief...I DO a lot more than just drink, party and eat.  Those pictures are just more fun to look at and hear about. 


The thing that I love most about my experience here, is that I am able to experience EVERYTHING.  Parties, people, culture...you name it.  And most things I am not able to put in words...so, followed are pictures of my great adventures. Enjoy.

The top of the Ufizzi: clocktower

Inside the Plazzo Ufizzi: writing on the wall

view from Plazzo Michelangelo: Pizza Ufizzi and  The Duomo

Night time view of Ponte Vecchio

Basilica Santa Maria Novella

Inside the Santa Croce

Inside The Pitti Palace: Galleria Palatina

Bosom sculpture: Galleria Palatina

Sunset outside the Pitti Palace

Piazza Santa Maria Novella

Danti: in front of Basilica Santa Croce

Giardini di Boboli

View from the top of the Boboli Gardens

The Porcelain Muesum

The view of Pitti Palace from the backyard.  Fancy

Inside the Royal Apartments: Queens bed

Pegasus

Royal Crest: Porcelain Museum

I wasn't able to take pictures in the L'Accedemia where Michelangelo's "David" lives, which sucks.  They had an amazing tapestry piece that told the story of Jesus' life that is absolutely breathtaking.  I would have also like to have shown you the  La Galleria del Costume but again, no photos allowed.  The Museo delgi Argenti had intricate ivory relics that anyone in Florence MUST see.

Serendipy a' Firenze

ser·en·dip·i·ty  /ˌsɛrənˈdɪpɪti/ [ser-uhn-dip-i-tee]In the simplest of words, it means a "happy accident".

Things always happen for a reason...or rather, things happen just because they are suppose to.  Even if you take a detour, life leads you right back to where you are supposed to be...

So after a drunk filled night of stumbling around...I woke up and had no clue where I was the night before.  I had asked my roommate and my classmate...no clue...Lion's Den...or something?  Lyon with a "y"...google maps had NO idea.  And all I know, is that it was a green pub with a kebab place next door....great.  I had recapped my night with my other two roomies that didnt come out the night before.  Telling them that I had a date in 1 hour and I had no clue to where I was supposed to be.  BUT, I was going to give it a try anyway.

On the way over, I saw another classmate that I was with the night before.  I asked her if she remembered where we went...she didn't.  But she tried helping me anyway....we were close, we knew that for sure.  After a little bit, she left me to go on about her business while I tried to continue my search.  I asked a couple of people and they lead me to a bar called, "Lion's Fountain".  While the area looked familiar, that was NOT the bar I went to the night before...that much I knew. Or thought I knew.

So in defeat, I walk home.  I enter saying one simple thing, "fail.com".  My ride or die tells me that one of our other roommates has a story to tell me and that I should take a seat.  Ok, thats weird...but I take a seat anyway.  Vero had gotten her hair done the other day and they double charged her...so she went to take a walk to go sort it out.  What does this have to do with anything, you ask?  Shit, I was thinking the SAME thing.  So here is how she told me her story..

"So I go to the salon so I can show them my bank statement to prove

that they had doubled charged me.  I always walk to the same way...it's just

past the Duomo.  I know a little short cut that I can take to get there.  It's near

this cute little piazza. (she goes on to describe the piazza)  I'm walking in the little

 alley way and I look up and see a pub called "Lion's Den" (Yup, that's right. 

She FOUND the bar I was busily looking for at that exact moment) and I just thought to myself, 'I just bet that this is the bar that Nikko is looking for.' 

So I walk in and find a tall guy asking the bartender, 'hai visto una ragazza ...'

(have you seen a girl..) and goes on to describe you.  I walk right up to him and ask

him his name.  He looks at me weird and tells me his name.  I ask him if he is

waiting on a girl...he says,'Yes, Nikko.'  I explain to him that I am your roommate

and told him that you were looking for the place as we spoke but that you had no

idea where it was.  We exchange numbers, just in case...and he tells me, 'I'll wait a

 little longer just in case she can find the place'"

Can you believe that shit?  I couldn't.  She pulls out the little piece of paper that he scribbled his number on and hands me her phone.  ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?  I just spent....maybe 45 mins trying to find this place and here he falls so neatly in my lap.  I couldn't believe how much effort I had put into finding this place and this person...

I. HAVE. NEVER.



Was it worth it?  I'm not sure yet...but I will definitely let you know.



Friday night in Florence

My first week in Italy was fillled with lesson planning and homework.  So, needless to say, I was tied to my desk at home.  Finally, Friday came around and my classmates and I agreed that we should go out...Since my ride or die was dying in bed from being sick...my other roommate and I decided to start a little early.  We grabbed some beers from the Euro store (yes, I can get a 40oz for ONE Euro) and went for a walk...to the Uffizi, Ponte Vecchio and L'Accademia

After two 40's and some whiskey...Antonio and I are ready to pre game at our classmates apartment.  While waiting for everyone to arrive, we drank, drank and drank some more.  Finally, we head out into the night and try to find a place to dedicate out night to (since it is roughly 11:30pm).  We stumble upon a pub that looks inviting and crackin' enough. 

While hanging outside, my eyes lock with 6'2 Italian man with light eyes (not pictured).  BAM.  We both give the side eye to a girl tripping out of the bar wearing next to nothing in 10*C weather.  That's his in....He, joking, tells me not to judge, in next to perfect English.  Ok, funny man...let's see what you got.  His friend works at a restaurant and is throwing a Super Bowl party that they invite me to...and apologizing about the Niner's.  Thanks guys.  I make my way back into the bar to meet back with my classmates...dancing the night away to American music.  Given, it is songs by Cypress Hill, Nsync and the Backstreet boys but I am happily singing along. 

Before the night ends, Mr. 6'2 comes up to me asking if he can have my phone number.  I say, no...because I don't have a number.  He asks if I would like to meet him back at the bar at 12:30pm the next day... and I say YES. 

Stumbling home, I tell my roommate that I had just landed myself my

very first date in Florence, Italy...

to be continued..

da qualche parte là fuori..(somewhere out there)

It wasn’t until Monday night where things became real for me.  and it all started with a letter from my Mahoganizzle sister…

It was a letter about me…her version of me.  Have you ever known, really, in words how your closest friends feel about you?  It was so incredibility touching to know how much a person believes in you…loves you. So there I was, reading her letter in bed on my second to last night…crying.  THANKS.A.LOT.

The next day was filled with errands and packing.  I had my best and my main staying up with me to divide my life into 160 lbs.  It took a while and many attempts, but we got it.  I don’t get to talk to my best often…shoot we don’t even see each other on a regular basis…but he is always there.  It’s times like these that count the most and he is ALWAYS there to help me thru.  I talk to my main everyday…I see her every other day…and it’s the same thing every day.  I couldn’t tell you how many times she has saved me in a clutch play.  Or saved my life…in so many ways.  For this, I am forever thankful.

At 3:30am, my family and I get into the van and make our way to SFO.  I silently cry to myself in the back seat.  Mostly because I am thinking of all the things/people I will miss.  I’ve never been so far away from my family…from my younger brother.  It breaks my heart to know I won’t be able to see them at a drop of a dime.  I regret not spending more time with them…

Then finally at the airport, we have a goodbye committee to see us off and to make us cry.  bitches.  And then they pull the stunts of all stunts.  Mac and I receive an email that we are to read together.  It’s a slide show with messages from some of our closest people and our theme song(s) playing the background.  I am so touched that I can not help but cry hysterically at our gate.  I couldn’t ask for a better way to be seen off…really.  Now, anytime I am feeling down or a little homesick, I have this video to remind me of how much my family and friends support, believe in and love me.

I write my final chapter of my American life in 2012 on my plane ride from New Jersey to Rome. 

“And even though I know how very far apart we are…it helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star….”  (sing that shit CrystalMotherFuckenClear)

Excessive to a minimalist

I am..

I am a woman

I am a Filipina woman

I am a Filipina-American woman

therefore, I am excessive

By nature, women tend to be on the excessive side.  For example, it is NECESSARY for us to own at least 4 pairs of black shoes, have at least 5 purses and own at least 3 LBD's.  As Americans, we are force fed to be excessive.  For example, super size this, jumbo that and why do we have 10 different flavors of M&M's?  Now...has anyone heard of the famous Filipina..Imelda Marcos? 'Nuff said.  I was doomed from the beginning...

Now, I didn't always categorize myself as "excessive".  I actually thought that for a girl, I did pretty well (beside the shoes...I am known for my addiction to high heels/boots).  and I move just about every year so I try to keep my load light.  One of my mains and I actually have it down to a science and can do it in two trips with the party pilot.  So when it settled in that I would only be able to take two 50 lbs luggages and a carry on for my MOVE...I finally knew the truth.

Now how in the world am I 'pose to fit 100 pairs of shoes into 2.5 luggages?  Apparently, you can't.  So I had to down size.  I gave away a lot...and put even more in storage...and still managed to pack 12 pairs.  Shit, and that is JUST shoes. I don't even think that I am high maintenance (s/o to my boy who said, "You are not as high maintenance as you look") but I do require A LOT and a lot requires space.  Now I have never been there before, but I am told that there isn't a ton of space in Italy. Not to mention that I am the only one dragging my luggage from Rome, on to a 4 hour train ride to Italy and then out of the airport to the bed and breakfast.  And since I am finishing my packing tomorrow....I better start practicing how to be a minimalist....

...starting now...

The one thing I needed

"Its a catastrophe, but its the one I need"

A good friend of mine recently had me read a short story about a couple who held on to a slowly diminishing relationship.  It wasn't until shit hit the fan when both parties knew that it was really over and they both had to let go. The story hit a little close to home and brought on a wave of emotions for me.

You see, the ex and I were this couple.  Annoyingly happy in love, totally consumed with each other which in time became comfortable and complacent.  When the first break up happened, it seemed like a long time coming.  The fights, the all of a sudden low patience with one another, the nagging and absolutely no quality time.  We all of a sudden had different views on everything.  So shit hit the fan in the worst way.  Like, THE WORST.  So we took a 6 month break before realizing that we were "meant to be".  There wasn't a day I didn't think of him.  There wasn't a night I didn't yearn for him...and he felt the same way.  So we gave our love another try.  A short year passed and we found ourselves at our 5 year anniversary.  And just like history does, it repeated itself.  An even nastier ending than the first.  I thought that it was the catastrophe that I finally needed to just let go and let God.  But it was also paired with a unbelievable heartbreak that I never imagined possible.  After a deafening silence, we were back in touch but not back in the grove.  Optimistically, I would like to be friends.  He knows me better than anyone and I know him better than he knows himself.  Who knows, maybe after I get back...we'll both be changed and can do this for real.

So the holidays came around and this year was harder than I thought it was going to be.  There was no Christmas shopping together..no tree lighting ceremonies..no ice skating rink..no duraflame logs and a great bottle of Pinot.  It was just us pretending that things hadn't changed when they obviously have.  Christmas day, feeling more like shit, I called him cos he was once the only person that could make me smile.  The funny thing about the person who can make your day is that...well, they can turn that shit upside down.  It was such a simple question from him...that probably meant nothing..but for me, it killed me. So that was it.  Two big blow outs and a selfish comment later and I go back into silence.

I look back on the two catastrophes and wonder why I couldn't be strong enough to walk away then, either time.  I guess I had hope that one day my knight and shining armor would get the fuck off his high horse and sweep me off my feet.   But this is real life honey, there are no fairy tale endings...so while our love is still greater than anything anyone will ever understand...he finally gave me the "catastrophe" I needed to be able to board my plane in 6 days and begin my new adventure.