Jet laaaaaaaaaaag…

I was priding myself on my boundless energy and of sleeping through the nights with little to no problems. I even woke up at 5:45am, be it a bit tired, and went running down to Jaffa this morning.

I confess that today, despite the bright sun, the cool breeze, and the insane amount of sugar consumed, I’m draaaaaaaaging. All I want to do is go to the beach and sleep or float in the sea (but I’m so scared of jellyfish that I might just stick to the beach and toe it in the water).

My sentiment is shared by the rest of the group, and despite my lack of energy, I still have the most effervescence out of everyone. I may be younger and I may not have to focus as much in lectures, but I am part Energizer Bunny, which keeps me going. And going. It’s only a matter of time before they turn on their fearless leader and her incessant chatter.

Still, all is well. Minus the internet connection at the university and the fact my shower is leaky. I think I may have to cut back on the yummy pastries as I don’t want to go back and have to buy two seats for the return flight in order to fit my ass into one seat. Another run is in order for tomorrow.

I cannot wait for the lectures to be over and to get out into Israel. I have an attention span of a goldfish, and with this fatigue, my head keeps banging off my computer keyboard.

Two more days before a field trip to…stay tuned!

Getting from there to here a la chaos

It’s been ages since last blog post–I apologize to my avid fans–but as I’ve committed this time to recanting adventure, I feel the time away will soon be forgiven as I now “write” this wrong.

Currently, I am sitting in a lecture at Tel Aviv University in Israel (this means I’m not paying attention as some things do not change). It’s somewhat surreal to be here, never knowing in all my travels that I would ever make it to this part of the globe, and not really ever caring if I did. Now that I’m here, I know what a great opportunity it is and in this ever-changing world, realizing how significant it is that I am in Israel and knowing that it might not be so easy again.

Today’s glorious story is about getting to my Middle Eastern location. I don’t mean the purpose as to why I’m here, which is for work (yeah, work travel!), but the continual disaster that is my travel life via planes, trains, and automobiles. I always end up at my desired location but never in a fluid manner.

Quick synopsis of travel disasters: missing flight but getting bumped up to first class via tears and not having to pay (first class made up for stress); losing ticket at Heathrow; misreading the day on the ticket for departure; freak snowstorm in Scotland allowing me to stay an extra week and miss a poetry exam (that was an awesome disaster); car breakdown(s); countless missed flights and one where tears saved me again; lost luggage; hurricane flight that required me to hold the old man next to me for dear life; so many delays I can’t even count; and more, but it hurts to remember them all (emotionally and physically).

But I can add the following to that list! I was destined to leave Washington Union Station via train–my favorite mode of transportation! Choo choo! I would arrive at Newark International Airport to meet my colleague and 26 Academic Fellows. I was cautioned that going through the security for Israel is quite detailed and lengthy (no lie) so it was important to get myself and my 26 sheep–I mean Academics–through flawlessly, meanwhile making sure no one missed a connecting flight prior to the Tel Aviv flight, or forgot to leave from their lecture halls, homes, or tweed-elbow patched closets.

However, the Academics were not the problem in the end. It was me.

So, Washington Union Station. I have too much baggage for one little person: 3 boxes on a dolly, suitcase, backpack, purse, and pizza. I managed to navigate through the station from the taxi. I managed to get all my crap on the train. I was settled down and ate my pizza, salad, and cheesecake. Totally had cheesecake. I had time on the train to get my self situated and nourished before departure.

Announcement: “There is a disabled train on the tracks in front of us. We don’t anticipate this being a long delay. We will keep you posted.”

10 minutes later: “aksjflajldfskjlasdjas” Loudspeaker is broken and I can’t hear.

20 minutes later: “The train is still there, it should be moving along quickly.”

45 minutes later: “It looks like it could be a little bit longer, feel free to get off the train and walk around.” This is never good because that means there needs to be time allotted for passengers to get back on the train.

60 minutes later: “There are downed wires and a power outage out of Baltimore. No trains are leaving Washington, Baltimore, or Philadelphia. No estimated time of repair.”

Fuck. So this gets me into bitching and quick thinking. Called my supervisor to inform him I may be late or never arrive. Tried to find alternate routes of transportation. No buses. So quick, quick thinking. Rent a car. So I run to the car rental, run back to get my luggage, I come to the desk and it isn’t ready and now there is a line. I’m freaking out and sweaty from running to and from the station platform navigating Union Station with a million boxes and a million people aimlessly walking around. I can’t find the elevators so I manage on escalators. I am waiting, waiting for the lady to give me my car keys and my credit card and license. She informs me she has to run everything again because other customers came after I ran to get my luggage.

I’m standing there sweating profusely and hiked my shirt up inappropriately, but didn’t care, and a man comes up to me and says, “Are you going to Newark?”

Me: “Yes!”

Him: “Would you like to come with me and my wife?”

Me: “YES!!!”

They had already rented a car. I snatched my credit card and license and with my inappropriate shirt hiking introduced myself to the wife. She spoke no English and the man spoke broken English. Interestingly, I asked where they were going, and they said Israel. We were on the same flight! Oh, life, you crazy.

It was up to me to locate the car rental cars because they are NOT clearly marked nor are they easy to access. So after running around different levels of the parking garage with our cumbersome luggage, I ran downstairs and asked for directions from the car lady. Then we still went the wrong way, all the while the clock ticking in my head, and eventually we found it. I look like a crazy person to the most understanding of human beings, but to two people that don’t know me and are sharing a 4 hour car drive with me, I think I look like a bad decision.

We found it, managed to get all our luggage, even mine, in the car. I got shotgun because I was navigator. Oh, iPhone, how did I ever get on without you?

Already it seems like a disaster in the making when I said I was the navigator. But I managed. And they were happy to have me and honestly, strange as it seems, without my badass navigation skills, I don’t think they would’ve found Newark International Airport. We didn’t get lost and my wonderful iPhone (thanks, Santa, for the Christmas gift) never faltered.

I think the Israeli man, originally from Argentina, was a race car driver at one point because we went over 90 mph most of New Jersey and Delaware.

My funk nails. The woman loved them.

We chatted in broken English, Hebrew and Spanish, I showed the woman my funky nails, we shared anxiety, and we shared the joy of seeing the first airplane in the sky near Newark.

We did it! And even though there was no time to fill up the tank which means there’s a fee the gas per gallon is doubled, there was time to get our luggage together, take the Airtran to our Terminal, and make the flight.

I’m so grateful for that experience, for meeting those two people so randomly and for them accepting my wackiness and welcoming me, be it a bit nervously, into their car trip. It was so important I make the flight; this is a work trip in which I have ALL the information and materials. Where I need to shine and outdo anyone’s expectations (thus far I am doing this) and prove I’ve earned my health benefits and non-profit pay. It’s important to my work, but most importantly, to me.

So far the rest of the trip has been great–no one lost their luggage, no one missed their flights (or trains), no one has been lost (at least yet). I have rallied the Academics in the only way I can, with pizzaz, occasional flightiness, but ultimately, no one can believe this is my first trip to Israel nor my first time organizing this program. The trip is young, and I can still falter, but my quick thinking and innovativeness and expert experience at travel disaster has made me excel the same. So what else may happen, I’ll take that with me.

Nice other side benefit, a seat between me and the other passenger on the plane. Awesome flight. And the nice couple who helped me and who I helped didn’t charge me a penny, no matter how I insisted, for the car. The train eventually left, three hours late. If I had stayed, I would’ve missed my flight.

So to cap off the day, last night I drank a froofy drink on the beach with some of the Academics, watched the ocean and a couple maul each other, and dug my feet in the sand not really understanding just where I was in the world, but also reveling in the moment of where I was in the world.

(I enjoy the beach more at night as the risk of sunburn is considerably less.)

Here’s to a great trip, some photos, and purchasing Israeli tourist goods made in China. And I guess growing as a person and in my career…

Photo montage!

My blogging has been dormant most of 2012. Shockingly so. It’s not like I don’t have anything to say, on the contrary, I can’t quite shut up. But to catch up on the many exciting events and less exciting ones, I thought I would do a photo montage of some of the more significant moments of late.

I painted my own pottery! It was, indeed, featured on the Wall of Fame at "Fire it Up" in Cleveland Park.

Two of my friends got married and didn't ask me to be a flower girl. I was promised Indian food in lieu. All is forgiven.

I kicked my friend's ass in ski ball. Rematch?

I served alcohol to minors. Just kidding, Dora is 21 in cartoon years.

I managed to take the metro with no problems a handful of times. I also discovered Instagram while waiting for the metro for all the other times I had to fill my time while the metro faltered.

New job! Working with the Middle East and Africa.

Business cards, health insurance, and a work trip to Israel make me an adult--for the first time in 27 years...

...may have seen The Hunger Games...

Managing my own sla--interns. It's nice to be on the other end (certainly have earned it).

Went shopping. On more than one occasion. Damn you, KRT!

Went out. Numerous times.

Some new things I’ve discovered!

Curly Girl Hair Products! The shampoo is called "No Poo" which is kinda funny.

Got a membership, and minus a few things, this has proven a nice alternative to legs and especially the damn metro. Getting hit by car pending.

I discovered that I will be getting cash once my points get up to a certain number. The irony that I have to spend more to get them is lost on me.

Dark N' Stormy drinks. Didn't know rum and ginger would be so harmonious, but they are. But what really can go wrong with Ginger?

Ok, so it’s not very exciting, but that’s because the REALLY exciting things are too inappropriate to post. Just kidding. But not.

Many photos originally featured on Facebook. I am against the damn Timeline, so here is my own version in my own unforced way.

Gingermermaid signing off. But hopefully not for as long!

Aw, life

“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next.” –Gilda Radner

I don’t think there is a more accurate quote to sum up life, and in a way, offer something reassuring as one muddles through it.

Chapter 27

It’s been ages since my last post, and for this I am most apologetic.

2012 has been a challenging year, and I’m sure it will only get more challenging, but amidst this, I hope that I reap something bigger than I can fathom.

On this February Leap Day, I have been offered and have accepted new employment. It is both exciting and terrifying. Terrifying because I held 3 positions last year and none of them panned out quite right; I want so badly to be in a comfortable, but electric, work atmosphere to flourish in–for the long term. I psych myself out fearing failure that it almost makes it feel inevitable, but self-doubt is not a path to indulge in.

It’s exciting because each new job opportunity opens a new world and a new chance at success with so much to learn. Perhaps I will do something that will not only impress my employers, but myself, and perhaps somehow I’ll leave a stamp on the world. In this new role, I have more a chance at leaving a stamp than anything else I’ve done before.

I may be getting ahead of myself, the job was offered but references are still be checked, and the official letter of offer arrives tomorrow. But when something happens, I am that annoying person who needs to make sure the world, and various universes, are aware of my happiness.

Anyway, the down and dirty of it is that when all goes well (fingers crossed) I will be working with ASMEA, the Association for the Study of the Middle East and Africa. During my first phone interview, my interviewer asked me to sum up Africa and the Middle East in a few sentences. My reply was, “That’s impossible.” Despite that curt answer, I managed to snag two more interviews and a verbal offer.

Yep, at 27, tiara on head and icing-laden, juvenile cake, about to embark on an intense career adventure.

This is a big step career-wise and can have a huge impact on my future in more ways than I believe I can anticipate. I am up for the challenge, scared, and very excited. Some travel to new and very different worlds, some big-as tasks to accomplish, and some growing to do.

I sound so disgustingly cheesy at this very moment, that I’m tempted to grab some crackers.

Obsession: Downton Abbey

I discovered the magic of Downton Abbey randomly one fateful day last year. My roommate and I were barely paying attention to PBS playing in the background on our ghetto TV that gets 6 channels. We bantered back and forth, played on our computers, and from time to time, our eyes flickered up to the television, became enraptured at the chaos unfolding before us for a moment or two before we got back to our shenanigans. However, as the 90 minutes progressed, we soon lost ourselves to the enchantment: gasping when shocked, laughing when appropriate, tearing up when necessary, and shouting in exclamation at scandal. Oh the scandal.

After the first episode, which was really the third episode of the season, my roommate and I could not believe our lives had every truly begun before that moment. This might be a slight exaggeration, however, it proves the strength of our passion for this Masterpiece BBC magic.

The new season has commenced and the best, most amazing part is that there is another season! Sometimes the BBC is all like, “Let’s do this for a season and stop it.” This is not the case, they see the magic (and probably some dollar, I mean, pound signs).

After re-watching the first season, I made it through the first half of the second season’s premier episode, aiming to savor it’s glory. At 4am, it was time to call it quits. However, much to my dismay, the next day my partner in watching the show demonstrated ultimate betrayal: 1) he watched without me the rest of the episode 2) he accidentally deleted the season 2 premier off the DVR. There are no words to emphasize the devastation I felt. The only peace of mind I have it repeated today, it can be re-recorded, and that it is out on DVD, so the rumors say…

I won’t even begin to describe the eccentricities of this show and the multiple plot lines, but I will showcase my favorite series of clips of one-liners from the show. Love Maggie Smith.

“I hate Greek drama. When everything happens off stage.”

As I write, I’m watching the second part now…oh the splendor.

Obsession: The Hunger Games

For those who have taken a bite (bedumchhh) out of The Hunger Games, you already know the word obsession is a fitting category for this captivating book series.

I shan’t offer too many spoilers, I would never dream of ruining this trilogy for anyone especially after my dad and cousin simultaneously destroyed the Harry Potter series for me. Some wounds never heal.

Me: “I wonder if Dumbledore will die.”

Dad: “Dumbledore is dead.”

Me: “What?!”

Dad: Uncontrollable laughter.

Cousin Addison: “Yeah, Snape killed him.”

Me: “What?!”

Dad: Uncontrollable laughter.

Lesson: Family doesn’t care about crushing literary dreams. (At this point I’m assuming everyone has read the Harry Potter series, apologies if I just destroyed them for you too. Bitterness is a difficult pill to swallow.)

Back to topic.

The Hunger Games is actually a young adult series, although incredibly gruesome and dark. This is no Twilight (which was an atrocity), although it is as epic if it won’t be more so, as the vampire series that plagued bookshelves, Kindles, and movie screens alike. Oh, the tragedy Bella and Edward bestowed onto this world!

Suzanne Collins, the author, was inspired to write after watching a reality show on one TV station and then switching to another channel where she saw clips of the Iraqi war. The two concepts blended together and served as a base to the hearty story that is The Hunger Games.

The general premise is that 16-year-old Katniss lives in a post-apocalyptic world, Panem, formerly the great US of A. The territory is divided into 12 Districts, with a mysterious 13th District quelled after an uprising. The government is called the Capitol, located in what we’d consider the Rockies area more or less,  and holds massive power over the Districts. In order to keep Districts from uprising like District 13, the Capitol holds the Hunger Games (dramatic music: dun dun duuuuuun) which is an annual event where one boy and one girl aged 12 to 18 from each of the 12 Districts surrounding the Capitol are selected to compete in a televised battle in which only one person can survive.

Honestly, I can’t even offer any more because the book tells the story best and no magic can escape my fingertips that would be able to even begin to tease someone into reading it. I’ve read it twice through and was equally enthralled the second time around. I don’t even want to share my opinion of the characters, because it’s something the reader needs to figure on their own.

I will share this (am I building this up, or what?): it’s gruesome, it’s disturbing, it’s intriguing, it’s suspenseful, there is love, there is brainwashing, there is political undertones, and it is both satiating and wanting.

Some things to note, Katniss is quickly rising as a top baby name of 2012, it was the best-selling e-book of the holiday season, and there is a movie coming out. Trailer here!

The other books in the series are Catching Fire and Mockingjay. Once the series is finished, the conversation does not. Mixed reviews on the ending, on the writing styles of the various books themselves, and the epicness that is this series, continues on, even as the words do not.

Everyone I know, my mom, my brother-in-law, my brother’s fiancee (I may have planted this seed…muhahaha), my guy and gal friends, and strangers I meet on the street, have read this book. Those who aren’t obsessed, get there and start your literary journey to Paradise, littered with blood and political corruption.

Stay tuned for my next Obsession post: Downton Abbey! (Yes, this is a series, much like the amazing Hunger Games!)

Oh Christmas tree, your glory is shortlived

Walking down the city streets of DC, I’ve noticed a rather disturbing trend. Tossed carelessly on the side of the road are the carcases of Christmas trees, whose branches danced with twinkling lights and ornaments through December, now lay dry, brittle and naked, only to be taken to that garbage dump in the sky.

They lie unceremoniously at the side of the road; not standing tall as they did in life or while on display, but collapsed on their sides, helpless to stay upright without roots or a stand to support its shapely figure.

If Christmas trees knew that they were being grown, farmed only to die, would they reach to the sun to photosynthesize as willingly and manage the brisk winters for the 10 or 15 years it takes to achieve that robust stature, only to be cut down in its prime and stashed in the corner of a living room representing a commercial aspect of a Christian holiday (which is, consequently, Pagan in its roots)?

Are plastic and aluminum trees the humane alternative? Perhaps they are the tofu, the vegetarian option, of the holiday world. Although, there is something to be said about authenticity–the real thing (this statement may or may not be crossing the line into other life discussions, use imagination).

What’s more disturbing are the Christmas trees that don’t make it to the curb until the end of February. Holding onto Christmas spirit too long? Or is it giving a tree that died for our garish holiday decorations a longer lease on life?

Either way, as much as I enjoy a Christmas tree dressed in a kitschy fashion, it’s demoralizing to see it strewn on the side of the road, its glory ripped from its branches and its legacy wasted in a landfill.

Rest in peace, Christmas trees. Perhaps the lucky ones will be reused as firewood and enjoy a marshmallow roasting over its warm embers.

Why I blog

In this social media frenzied culture that contributes to an exorbitant amount of oversharing and privacy breach issues, why does any person blog? Someone I’m quite close to calls me an exhibitionist. Perhaps I am a bit, but this statement irks me and doesn’t feel right, so I thought about it and wondered, why is that I blog and why do I love it so?

This used to be my header of my blog, along with Hugh Jackman...

True story, you may not know this about me, but I used to be adamantly opposed to blogging. I thought it narcissistic and boring. Then I noticed that some blogs are a little quirky, a little funny, and sometimes a little informative. The real change in attitude happened a year ago–a year ago when I started this blog and the dream was realized…

In December 2010, after a wretched end of the year, a bright spot shined on me when I earned a competitive internship with the Embassy of Australia in Washington, DC. One of the main skillsets for the position was an acute talent for social media, including blogging. Having never blogged and having never the desire to, prior to my interview, I got to researching and practicing.

What I didn’t know was that this first attempt at blogging would lead to something  I was able to do for myself and my career.

Upon entering my internship, my supervisor told me that many interns chose to focus on a project or skillset to further develop. The blogging program had fallen by the wayside, and I decided that this was a chance for me to be creative and leave an imprint. I had no idea how successful it would become or how it would impact my own blogging relationship.

I overhauled the program, redesigned the site, selected contributing bloggers, and ran the embassy blog in addition to blogging personally (via Gingermermaid) about my experience as an intern. The views of the gostudyinaustralia blog, whilst under my care, jumped a remarkable 250%.

However, as great as this program was, I had to leave the internship and find work elsewhere. Work that paid. Rather than retiring my blog, I separated it from the embassy and began it as my personal blog once again.

Still dealing with some emotional highs and lows, I found that when I sat in front of a computer, inspired or just bored, I had this elation when writing a blog post. Sometimes I wrote a blog and never published it, just wrote and let it rest dormant.

I always tell people how much I want to be a writer. But seriously, everyone wants to be a writer or publish a novel one day, and I’m certainly no different than every other English major who is not working in their field and has aspirations for literary stardom. However, one step in the “write” direction is to actually scribble something down. At times it’s hard to sit in front of a computer and  write an epic novel, but it is easy to write what you know, and a blog is great practice. What else do I know as well as my own thoughts?

I’m also shy about sharing what I write. Writing and pouring my heart into a piece of work may mean a lot to me, and may seem to be the best alignment of words and phrases ever to grace paper, but not everyone feels the same or cares. That criticism is biting. Every mother thinks their baby is beautiful, but in reality…

Blogging allows me to get over some of my fears, understand what it’s like to have people read my words, and take criticism (but really just praise because it’s just that good, right?). Even criticism in the form of ridicule for my Gingermermaid blog name.

Artists don’t paint to keep their work in a dark room. Writers don’t create to keep their words secret.

My blog will not turn into an epic novel; I’m not stupid, it’s not that interesting. But it gets me writing often, it makes me happy, and it allows me to share what I want with the world. Not too much, but just enough.

At times it will seem egotistical or stupid. But blogging has opened many doors for me in my career and it’s also opened doors inside myself, allowing me to purge creativity and ideas and sprinkle the internet with just enough of my own unique perception and turn of phrase.

New Year’s Eve, the night before New Year’s Day

Yesterday was New Year’s Eve, commemorating the end of one year and the start of another (hence name). Like all celebrations, this holiday is marked with  garish decorations, large parties, and mass quantities of alcohol. No one is more ready to celebrate and raise a glass than your’s truly, however, the excessiveness to this holiday borders on ridiculous and, let’s face it, it’s cliche.

I spent New Year’s Eve sober at a lovely party at my aunt’s in Vienna, VA. Did people drink? Naturally. Did people lose all sense? No.  The reality of the chaos of New Year’s didn’t really hit me until the drive home to the city my uncle so graciously gave me. After speaking with my roommate about her metro trip back to our apartment, I was even more ecstatic and grateful for his generosity to drive me 35 minutes out.

The highway was strewn with the dormant blue and red lights of cops waiting to ticket speeding hooligans and arrest drunk drivers. Upon entering the heart of DC, the streets were decked with scantily clad girls carrying their stilettos and stumbling, inebriated men carrying girls. The more impaired groups negotiated with taxis for rides (unsuccessfully), ignored all forms of traffic laws (getting hit by a car is less painful when drunk anyway), and located the nearest sewer drain or space of sidewalk to vomit. Classy evening.

I feel I sound very hipster/pretentious–I’m too cool to get drunk on New Year’s. I won’t lie, I have been very “out of sorts” on New Year’s, and I’ve been in some precarious situations from overindulgence–everyone has. But with age and maturity, these events are to occur less often. New Year’s seems to be an excuse for reenactment of these mistakes for ages 21 – 99.

My perception on this holiday is that I don’t need an excuse to get drunk and be pressured to have a good time. I could do this on a Monday for cheaper and  accompanied by less annoying people.

Aside from my attitude problem, the other issue is cost. My roommate went to one of those DC shindigs where you pay a set amount of money and get unlimited drink and food. Downsides:

• $140
• $140 from 10pm – 2am (roughly $50 an hour)
• $140 and they stop serving alcohol at 1:30am
• $140 and apparently there is an 8 drink minimum
• $140 and the food isn’t good
• $140 and there is no guarantee of fun

My roommate  informed me that in taking the public transportation back from her event, as we know the DC metro is reliable, she encountered delays and numerous drunk people coloring the floors with vomit. Thank you so much, Uncle Rob, for not having me take the metro back to DC!

Conclusion: All in all, I don’t need an excuse to act like an idiot, that will happen on its own, and I don’t really want to end the old year in a cloud and start the new one with a headache and lost wallet. In saying that, New Year’s can be fun, with or without alcohol. What it comes down to is, regardless of your state of mind, that you are with people you like and care about who help you conclude a year of your life and begin another one. And if you are lucky, you get to kiss a special person you really like, and that’s starting off a year pretty decently, with or without a hangover.