Lady Gaga turns up as a Man

The VMAs have turned into a huge party of smoke & mirrors, it seems like, especially when you have the cast of Jersey Shore and the clown outfits of Nicki Minaj and Katy Perry taking up all the Tweet traffic. People dropped the f-bomb left and right, with legit alcohol in their hands. Lady Gaga stole the show, again. And Britney still wins? Over ADELE!?

Oy. I sat through this just to catch that sneak-peek trailer of The Hunger Games.

My Chicago experience has been a busy one, and I can't believe it's only been two weeks since I officially started here! The job situation has gotten better, and I'm learning to love this little gig I have at a bakery near my apartment as I continue to find a full-time job.

Speaking of jobs, I officially have the ability and aptitude of working as a bartender. =) I had taken a 2week mixology course through one of the bartending schools in the city, and what's great is they offer lifetime job placement assistance, in case I ever need it. I'm not sure if I would ever be up for doing this as a job, but I do have a lot more appreciation for what bartenders go through night after night. I'm also interviewing for a nanny agency this week... so it'll be kinda funny if I end up staying true to my AniNanny persona, at the end of all this craziness. =)

As a single gal in the city, I'm making it a priority to go out and meet people whenever possible. I've become less weary about dating sites this past month, too, and I actually managed to meet a couple of great guys this week. It's always awkward for me to say "this was fun! wanna hang out again?" and not make it sound like "hey! I like you! wanna hang out again?" when it might be what the other person was thinking. Maybe that's why I have trouble with dating sites, because if you're the person (like me) who just wants to meet people and let chemistry happen the old-fashioned way, other people might wonder if they're wasting their time and just move on.

I came into this just after finishing a year-long relationship with a guy I was basically so comfortable with, I could burp in front of him and feel the same. So far I've met up with three different guys, all adorable in their own way, but through them I've come to realize the type of guy I'm fairly compatible with:

My ideal guy:
-ranges from 5'4"-5'8" and is at least 25 years old.
-is athletic/outdoorsy. To the very least, he can endure a camping trip or a 5K.
-can cook for himself and for others, and not just with the microwave.
-loves to read. Yes, even with a Kindle.
-loves to travel, near and far.
-is a cleaner/neat-freak.
-may have had a wild side, but has learned from his mistakes and become the better man.
-can dance and sing Karaoke while sober.
-knows common courtesy, but also knows when to speak up for himself.

All good traits to have, I must say.

living in Chicago

For as long as I can remember within these past five years, I have been the victim of impulsive choices for the substitution of living and embracing my reality.

I call it my "black corset" effect.

Let me explain. Back in 2005, when I was studying abroad in Barcelona, I was living in my first apartment ever, sharing a small space - and one bathroom - with international people who came and went throughout the course of 8 months I stayed there. I wanted to know them well, but I didn't know how. I remember them vaguely now: the sweet Dutch girl who interned at a hotel and would wake up every morning to KT Tunstal's "Suddenly I See" (when at the time, I thought the song said "at the VIP..." and I thought 'huh?'). The tall spacey German girl who worked as a waitress and invited me to see the fireworks at the Plaza Espana for the celebration of La Merce. The Italian couple who'd stay up pretty damn late playing some video game that involved a motorcycle drag-racing noise that filtered through my wall. I even remember the funny, very bohemian American 30something woman who'd quit her office job in Oklahoma to get a TESL certificate and teach English, and just live her life by the moments. These were people who knew themselves well... who just shared their personas without hesitation, and I didn't really feel like I knew how to represent my self. I felt like a wallflower. In fact, I felt like I hardly skimmed the surface on who exactly they were. This would probably be why I had no idea that the two funny Italian guys who'd cooked pasta for me and seemed nice... got kicked out after a month because they were planting marijuana seeds in their room.

It was details like that that led me to believe that I needed to quit being so daized and confused, define my personality and be more involved with what I was experiencing in Spain. Back then, corsets were the highlight of European fashion, right next to leggings. I saw them everywhere, in every color and fabric, to the point where I felt like I could no longer consider myself a resident of this place until I got one. I felt like this was my ticket to saying "See? I lived in cool and edgy and exotic Barcelona, Spain. I experienced it. See? Look how I can wear a fashionable corset and not feel at all intimidated. See?"

It was a moment of panic, where I didn't know how to define myself or describe how I was changing because of this experience living abroad.

So I went straight to H&M on the Barrio Gotico and bought a lacy black corset that went from bust to hip. Two hours later, I asked for a refund. Because I had no idea where I would wear that stupid thing without looking like a Dominatrix.

Long story short, I let this impulsive choice of a wardrobe define what I was experiences, because I was too shy to let those experiences just come naturally in my self and in turn be a part of my personality.

I guess you can fast forward a few years and use this "black corset" as a way of describing why I impulsively chose to work in Boston for a year under the impression that I could successfully teach inner-city students like the way movies showed it. Or why I impulsively applied for graduate school in animation without the stamina of being creative under pressure even as I signed the papers. Or why I decided to stay working as a teen counselor for three years instead of just one... maybe because I wanted to figure out my next impulsive choice, rather than taking time to break this habit and just figure out my self.

It sounds very cliche, but 27 years in, I still don't know who I am.

I don't know if it's because I let others define me for way too long, or that I've been living vicariously through other people's interests for way too long, or I just lack some kind of chemical-protein that's preventing me to be all "come on, show the world who's boss!" or whatever about my life.

In any case, I don't want to make another "black corset" out of this year that I have in a new place, which incidentally is a place that I've visited many many many times. I think that, rather than talking about a career and signing my life away again on student loans, it's more important that I see this year as a year of deliberate choices. I will cash in my "corsets" for the fun experiences they've given me in traveling and exploring careers. Now it's time to for me to get a little more gutsy, take pride of the freedom that I've given myself for this year, and explore a great city that can inspire me in many different ways. Hopefully, I can find a little bit more of just who exactly I am and actually have a plan for the kind of person I want to be.

And don't worry. I do plan to have a job this year, or two.