01. I was born in Bucharest, Romania. I came to the United States when I was 12 and have since been aspiring to “live the American Dream.”
02. I want to travel the entire world one day.
03. I have a chronic phobia of throwing up.
04. Growing up, I developed the “fat kid complex,” and while I wouldn’t consider myself a total health nut, I like to exercise regularly and eat healthy and learn as much as I can about fitness and nutrition. I think it’s fascinating.
05. I’ve considered the following possible future professions in my past: doctor, fashion designer, chef, psychologist, FBI agent, journalist/anchorwoman.
06. My ultimate dream was always to be an actress/producer.
07. My passion is writing—I want to publish a book one day, or get somewhere with writing. Even if it won’t happen, I won’t stop trying.
08. I’m dying to get a puppy.
09. My first kiss was a girl.
10. My favorite actors are Johnny Depp and Robert DeNiro.
11. I’m learning to be a better driver. (Read: drive on highways)
12. I love the summer and WARM weather.
13. I love Thai food. (obsessed with Pad Thai mostly)
14. I’d like to be vegetarian. (But I found it being very hard)
15. Sometimes I tend to want to be all that I’m not and want to have all that I don’t.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
30-Day Blog Challenge
I know I've previously chanted how I'd be so much more diligent about writing in here and that my "dry spell" of writing would be over. Well, it hasn't been as easy to do as it is said. BUT! thanks to a fellow NEW blogger who was kind enough to share her newly, hot-off-the-press blogger thoughts, I am so excited to be embarking on this beautiful writing challenge!
Who's with me?!
Blog 01 –15 Interesting facts about yourself
Blog 02 – Your first love
Blog 03 – Letter to someone who recently hurt you
Blog 04 – Someone you look up to
Blog 05 – Your parents
Blog 06 – Your day
Blog 07 – Your best friend
Blog 08 – Picture of somewhere you've been to
Blog 09 – Your beliefs
Blog 10 – What you wore today
Blog 11 – Your siblings
Blog 12 – What’s in your bag
Blog 13 – This week
Blog 14 – What you wore today
Blog15 – Your dreams at night
Blog 16 – Your first kiss
Blog 17 – Your favorite memory
Blog 18 – Your favorite birthday
Blog 19 – Something you regret
Blog 20 – This month
Blog 21 – A song
Blog 22 – Something that upsets you
Blog 23 – Something that makes you feel better
Blog 24 – Something that makes you cry
Blog 25 – A first
Blog 26 – Your fears
Blog 27 – Your favorite place
Blog 28 – Something that you miss
Blog 29 – Favorite Disney Princess
Blog 30 – Free Thoughts
Who's with me?!
Blog 01 –15 Interesting facts about yourself
Blog 02 – Your first love
Blog 03 – Letter to someone who recently hurt you
Blog 04 – Someone you look up to
Blog 05 – Your parents
Blog 06 – Your day
Blog 07 – Your best friend
Blog 08 – Picture of somewhere you've been to
Blog 09 – Your beliefs
Blog 10 – What you wore today
Blog 11 – Your siblings
Blog 12 – What’s in your bag
Blog 13 – This week
Blog 14 – What you wore today
Blog15 – Your dreams at night
Blog 16 – Your first kiss
Blog 17 – Your favorite memory
Blog 18 – Your favorite birthday
Blog 19 – Something you regret
Blog 20 – This month
Blog 21 – A song
Blog 22 – Something that upsets you
Blog 23 – Something that makes you feel better
Blog 24 – Something that makes you cry
Blog 25 – A first
Blog 26 – Your fears
Blog 27 – Your favorite place
Blog 28 – Something that you miss
Blog 29 – Favorite Disney Princess
Blog 30 – Free Thoughts
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
'Tis the season of swift anxiety that has encountered me as of late. My mind has been in a constant state of perplexity, as I have learned the level of ridiculousness of my job's “new” duties has prominently increased and my annual wage has prominently remained stagnant. That's right – I now have ZERO incentive to NOT FULLY loathe aspects of my job, even more than I already did.
The present-day economic times have left me speechless and paralyzed in fear. As with many others, the uneasiness and hardships brought about by countless nation-wide lay-offs have hit unexpectedly close to home. My mother has been unemployed for more than 6 months now. I suffered a shock to learn that her 12-year old safe job in her meticulous, hard-working and often underpaid structural engineering career has literally been terminated overnight, from one day to the next.
I took the saddest, longest drive into the city that late Friday afternoon to her office to help gather her things. For those few hours, the city and I were at war, no longer feeling it being anyone's safe haven, but a cruel, cold, wretched place that had just harshly disposed itself of my mother. In the now empty 80-something employee office, where I had spent almost an entire worry-free year interning in college, my mother slaving away at her desk, picking her head up off her project sheet only to check emails or take a sip of her coffee - in that same office, I have found my mother gathering 12 years of memories and professional experience in sad boxes and crates – she had packed brochures and pamphlets of her older projects, her books and notes, picture frames and souvenirs, her Rolodex and coffee mug I bought for her from South Carolina, and other miscellaneous supplies. She remained calmed, much as she always does, as we both walked out one last time, hands armed with small boxes, big crates and even bigger courage. As I drove off, she gazed down and bit her lower lip, as her chin started trembling and tears started to stream down, her hands now cupping the wetness of her face, muffling gentle sobs of grief and unfairness. My heart breaks in about a trillion different little pieces each and every time I see my mother cry.
As an immigrant whose parents (all three, read: mother, father and stepfather) have valued higher education more than anything in the world, it is absolutely needless to say (but I am going to say it anyways) that such an experience is only to create a further need for a higher degree of excellence, achievement and doubtless future successes.
I cannot say that my mother and stepfather have been barbarically overbearing, but over the years, their mild, low-key tactics have beautifully taken their toll. They have been instilled in me from an early age – the theory of an immigrant is, after all, quite very simple: the parents want to offer their children a chance to have a much better future than they did.
This is my future. I have no idea what it holds for me.
But it's that time that we all dread most: decision-time.
The present-day economic times have left me speechless and paralyzed in fear. As with many others, the uneasiness and hardships brought about by countless nation-wide lay-offs have hit unexpectedly close to home. My mother has been unemployed for more than 6 months now. I suffered a shock to learn that her 12-year old safe job in her meticulous, hard-working and often underpaid structural engineering career has literally been terminated overnight, from one day to the next.
I took the saddest, longest drive into the city that late Friday afternoon to her office to help gather her things. For those few hours, the city and I were at war, no longer feeling it being anyone's safe haven, but a cruel, cold, wretched place that had just harshly disposed itself of my mother. In the now empty 80-something employee office, where I had spent almost an entire worry-free year interning in college, my mother slaving away at her desk, picking her head up off her project sheet only to check emails or take a sip of her coffee - in that same office, I have found my mother gathering 12 years of memories and professional experience in sad boxes and crates – she had packed brochures and pamphlets of her older projects, her books and notes, picture frames and souvenirs, her Rolodex and coffee mug I bought for her from South Carolina, and other miscellaneous supplies. She remained calmed, much as she always does, as we both walked out one last time, hands armed with small boxes, big crates and even bigger courage. As I drove off, she gazed down and bit her lower lip, as her chin started trembling and tears started to stream down, her hands now cupping the wetness of her face, muffling gentle sobs of grief and unfairness. My heart breaks in about a trillion different little pieces each and every time I see my mother cry.
As an immigrant whose parents (all three, read: mother, father and stepfather) have valued higher education more than anything in the world, it is absolutely needless to say (but I am going to say it anyways) that such an experience is only to create a further need for a higher degree of excellence, achievement and doubtless future successes.
I cannot say that my mother and stepfather have been barbarically overbearing, but over the years, their mild, low-key tactics have beautifully taken their toll. They have been instilled in me from an early age – the theory of an immigrant is, after all, quite very simple: the parents want to offer their children a chance to have a much better future than they did.
This is my future. I have no idea what it holds for me.
But it's that time that we all dread most: decision-time.
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