Home

Well, ladies and gentlemen, all good things must come to an end, mustn't they? As of tomorrow I've been back in the USA for one month, and I am finally settling into a new groove. Meaning my "two year sojourn" has thusly been completed. It's hard to believe we started this journey together just over 2 years ago, I feel like we've all grown from this experience, don't you? I successfully lived in a foreign country for an extended period of time, visited 5 countries, worked in New York City, made lots of new friends (young and old), wrote a thesis, finished a Master's degree, and now I'm starting a new adventure.

first and last pictures of me in Italy (an adventure that started with beer, ended in watermelon)

Talking with a couple good friends recently resulted in me trying to count the number of places I've lived/number of times I've moved in the past few years. After giving it some thought, I calculated that since 2009 I have lived in 4 different cities and changed residences over 10 times. That's in the past 3.5 years alone. This realization actually surprised me. It would appear that I am a nomad of sorts, master of suitcase maximization, collecting memories in place of objects, ready to start anew, energized by the idea of opportunity. Looking back, all of those transitions felt like natural progressions to new phases of experience. That's not to say they weren't difficult, I have struggled with change. But reflecting on these last few years has had me thinking about what "home" means to me.

Torino, Italy: Year 1

In general terms, I've always struggled with what one can consider their hometown - is that where you're born, where you grew up, or a place with which you have emotional connection? What if all of those are different places? Then I thought, is "home" a specific geographic location, a point on a map, a place with latitudinal and longitudinal coordinates? If you'd have asked me fifteen years ago what home meant to me, in my juvenile wisdom I'd have responded with the usual cliché, "it's where the heart is." Ten years ago high-school-me would've told you "it's where my mom is." Seven years ago, when I began college, I would've said "it's wherever my clothes are." Four years ago I would've said "home is my first big-girl apartment." But here's what the last few years (and 10 relocations) have taught me: home doesn't exist in one place, it's not a location, rather it's a state of belonging - a voluntary one, at that.

Torino, Italy: Year 2

Home doesn't exist within walls, in buildings, or in physical terms. You can return to a place you used to live and even if the material characteristics remain familiar, if it is empty of all previous ties/experiences/souls, then suddenly the place doesn't feel like "home" anymore. Even if buildings, houses, and towns bring about nostalgia, it is because those memories are linked to lived experiences. So this would suggest home is made by the presence of people and the emotional connections we attach to them. For me this was a kind of revelation. Home isn't a singular place to be pinpointed in our minds, not a particular house or street, it's a transitory, shifting state of being. 

New York, Spring 2012

Of the places I've lived in the past several years, I've been baffled by my ability to make a home in not just one, but in all of them. Allow me to list the places I've genuinely felt 'at home' in the past 2 years: both of my student apartments in Torino, my summer 2011 apartment with 3 Southern Italian engineers, my tiny room at Phyllis' apartment in New York City, my dad's place in Houston, my mom's place in Austin, and my summer 2012 apartment with a 40-something Italian couple.

Torino, Italy: Summer 2012

In essence, all my conceptions of home are linked with individuals (friends, family, new acquaintances that became great friends) and a voluntary state of belonging. It involves a lot of willingness to adapt, but home can be be absolutely anywhere, for any period of time. Given this, it would appear the old adage is true, albeit trite, that home is where the heart is. It's wherever my feet take me, wherever my loved ones are, wherever I choose to put down roots, make connections, encounter other souls, and seek out kindred spirits.

Ciao, Italia.

This blog has been a virtual home to my struggles and successes over the past two years. Thank you, everyone, for taking the journey with me. I look forward to sharing the next chapters with you, whatever those may be.

xoxo

[T]aking Waves

Hello readers, I've been off-the-grid for a few weeks as you can see. Relaxing, sunning, and finishing Anna Karenina -- all as previously planned. Well, almost. A few issues came up which impeded my being able to meet up with my friends, which was super disappointing, but I made the best of my summertime in Italy. I finally chose a date for my departure, September 7, and as my departure date drew nearer I felt excited to see my family and simultaneously a bit nostalgic for my past 2 years in Italia.

the beach in Sperlonga

The day before my flight was to depart, I had everything ready. Bags packed and weighed (just above the allowed limit, because the Italians aren't nit-picky about exact numbers) and passport ready to be stamped yet again. It was a beautiful summer day in the Mediterranean and I decided to hit the beach one last time and try out windsurfing - why the heck not, it was my last day in Italy, after all. Perhaps not my best idea.

example of a child who is better than me at windsurfing

(from actionsportsmaui.com)

I blame the fact that I'm really not a sea/ocean person. I should be, I'm a water sign. Heck, I was born in California, and Texas has 600 miles of coastlines, but regardless I have always been annoyed by the sting of saltwater in my eyes and the dirty feeling of sand that sticks all over your skin. Give me a lounge chair, an umbrella, and a tropical drink and we're in business. But this summer I've been rather adventurous in my seafaring. Boating, kayaking, stand-up paddling, even trying scuba diving for the first time without problems (only 3-4 meters of depth).

sunset view of the town of Sperlonga

All was fine until the wind started really picking up and apparently I was on the wrong side of the board. Lesson learned: never let anything come between you and an approaching wave. I can say I won't forget that one now. I was attempting to tow the board back to the beach when a wave much taller than me came barreling through. When I saw it, I could already foresee the outcome but there was no time to move out of the way. Perhaps a seasoned beach bum would know how to quickly dive out of the way, or protect their body in a careful way, but I just stood there thinking "…oh shit."

slight exaggeration of the type of wave that crashed upon me

(from theterramarproject.com)

The force of the wave knocked me over and I was flung under the board, where I was then smacked (rather hard) in the face. I got up and gasped, still surprised by how fast everything had changed, and put a hand to my face. Blood. Oh geez. My first worry was that I couldn't see, so I was partially afraid to open my eye to determine my fate, but thankfully no eye damage.

my face, day after the accident (hardly visible: huge forehead bump)

I got an icepack for the huge bump on my forehead that was appearing, and after a visit to the nearest emergency room, I had 2 stitches in the side of my nose. Luckily the guy who put them in was a surgeon and specialized in aesthetics, so hopefully the scar won't be ghastly. I was highly advised by 4 doctors to not take a flight the next morning due to minor cranial trauma and something about changing atmospheres and my head maybe exploding, who knows. In essence, I pushed my flight back 10 days in order to rest comfortably, get the stitches out, and benefit from the public health care in Italy (I have no insurance stateside). In the end I was seen by 4 doctors and one plastic surgeon, I received 2 stitches, and my wound was dressed several times. Total cost? Zero dollars. Or euro, for that matter. 

my face, day 3, Puffy Eyes McGee

All is good, the swelling has gone down immensely with the help of a prescribed cream, my eyes are less puffy and I look less like a freakish Avatar person. I was warned my eye and forehead would turn black, but that hasn't happened yet, so let's all cross our fingers! And remember kids, let this be a lesson to you: be careful out there - the ocean can be a dangerous place.

I'm Kind of a Big Deal

I got a shout out on a professional arts blog that is widely read in the field! I'm having a geek moment, everybody! I've been conversing online with blogger/writer Nina Simon, who is also the director of the Museum of Art and History in Santa Cruz, CA. She pens the blog Museum 2.0, and I actually met her at a conference when I was working for the Texas Association of Museums back in 2009. A month ago I had commented on Nina's blog, giving her a suggestion for reading due to the topic she was pondering: whether or not we are becoming a more event-driven society. Actually, I've used her philosophies on museums as resources in my thesis, and once I got beyond how awkward it might be to send her my research paper that includes several references to her theories, I just gulped, clicked "send," and hoped for the best.

She thanked me for sending along my work, and a few days later she wrote me to say I had inspired her most recent post. Wow! Her post is essentially a summary of a section of my second chapter which describes the shift in cultural participation in the United States. And then she wrote a post about it! I probably shouldn't be as excited as I am, but a big name arts leader took my reading suggestion and felt as moved to write about it as I did (and she thanked me by name, which was pretty darn cool). Just goes to show you how relevant this topic is to the arts field. 

I also sent the thesis to another well-known blogger who is an arts consultant and the former director of the California Arts Council. He indicated he would be interested in doing a guest-blog post (by me!) or a blog interview about my topic. So we'll see where this goes, you never know!

Mission Accomplished

Well, it's been two months since my last post, but that's because I barricaded myself in my room for days-- even weeks at a time-- trying to finish my thesis. Minimal human interaction, copious amounts of caffeine, and general hysteria. I hardly explored Torino, not having the time to see friends or even *gasp* venture to my favorite gelateria for two scoops of heaven on earth. Alas, my deadline for turning in the document was last Monday, which ended up being my defense date as well. I managed to finish writing (a process I thought would never end) and I produced a very solid thesis, if I do say so myself.

months of hard work has paid off

Basically my thesis was a challenge of recent statistics that suggests the Millennial generation (those roughly 18-29 years old) is the least likely demographic to participate in culture. I suggested that modes of engagement have drastically shifted in the 21st century and Millennials especially are participating in new, collaborative ways that foster active involvement. In order to narrow the topic I focused on art museums specifically and the geographic context of the United States, providing two case studies of New York City art museums I visited and how their engagement strategies are significant for encouraging Millennial participation. The topic is incredibly relevant for the arts and culture sector today, and it even applies to future of political and religious participation for this demographic. What was most interesting for me was reading about how my generation is being characterized (anything from lazy/apathetic/self-absorbed to liberal/open-to-change/confident) and making a case for our role as cultural participants and active citizens. If you would like to read 85 fun-filled pages of caffeine-induced brilliance, please click here to read my thesis. Seriously, click on it if only to read the introduction and dedication page (you may recognize yourselves therein)!

adding this again for good measure (even though I already had the graduation ceremony)

Shall I now state the obvious? I'm FINISHED! I did it! My work was approved by the thesis committee with high marks, which means I completed a Master's degree in Italy! When I started this blog, I was on an international mission to work towards a postgraduate education. That was, by now, two years ago and I can honestly say I had no idea what to expect from this experience but it's been nothing but positive. Since 2010 I have been given the opportunity to make quite a few lifelong friends, to live a dream of returning to Italy, to acclimate to the humbling experience of being far from family and friends, to foster my cultural adaptability, to gain an international perspective, to challenge my theoretical and practical knowledge, and to accomplish an educational and professional goal based on my own merits and potential. Oh, and to share my experiences online with people who care about my progress!

my southern Italian roommates who took me out for a pizza post-thesis-defense

And for the obvious question on everyone's mind: "Now what?" Well, I'd say I'm glad you asked, but in all sincerity this question still stresses me out. I set this 2-year goal and now I've accomplished it, but it's not like the job market is booming. That is to say, no one's breaking down my door for the opportunity to hire me. Surprising, I know. As of this very moment my plan is to take some time to relax-- over the next month I'll be embarking on a Roman Holiday, visiting my friend Ricarda and her family in a small town south of Naples called Pisciotta, and meeting my buddy Sara at her grandma's house on a Croatian island. I've still to decide when exactly to make my reentry into the Lone Star State.

friends gathering for my "I finished my thesis" party

I feel as though this will be a well-deserved vacation after exhausting all my mental resources writing my thesis over the past several months. It's funny, once I finished the thesis defense, I slept about 11 hours - and in fact over the past week I've slept so much I feel like there may be something wrong with me! My lofty goals for the summer are (in no particular order): working on my tan, searching for jobs, and reading Anna Karenina (I'm already 10% into it) -- I'm thinking some of these can even be done simultaneously. I suppose I'm allowed to continue writing on this blog as long as I'm still in Italy, even if I'm not technically a graduate student anymore. Then I'll have to think of a decent platform for a new blog as an excuse to keep you guys interested in my life!

Transitions

I should start by saying I have arrived safe and sound in Italy. Well, I suppose "safe" is relative because 200km away in Emilia Romagna there have been intense earthquakes in recent days. In fact, on Tuesday I felt one very faintly at 9AM while at my desk but my roommate didn't feel it. Anyway, everything is going well. 

my dearest Phyllis; last night in NYC

I had a tearful farewell with Phyllis a few weeks ago, we had decided to forego conversations about my impending departure and therefore when the day came in which I had to leave, it seemed all-too-soon. It was much harder to leave her than the internship or the city. I found that I did love the city and all it had to offer, and I did try to exploit all its resources, but I also felt ready to get back to a more laid-back way of life. People in New York seemed to me to be working incredibly hard, most with multiple jobs, just to scrape by. I find it to be a captivating, romantic, innovative city that, however, is utterly unsustainable both economically and socially. The common person is too busy working, taking transportation, and trying to survive that the time and means to really enjoy oneself has to be carefully calculated. In my opinion, one has to be willing to sacrifice a lot in order to have merely the opportunity - the presumed promise - of the New York lifestyle, that which only exists in films (or for the 1% of this country). Just an observation. I loved living there for 4 months, but forever? Maybe not.

how could you not miss this ol' gal?

Once I departed from the Big Apple, leaving behind my 78-year-old soul mate and life coach, I arrived in Texas for a few short days of enchiladas, pool time, cocktails, family and friends (not necessarily in that order). I always find it refreshing - and curious - that you can return to a place and feel as if you never left. That used to worry me, as if what was experienced just before could have very well never happened. The thought that life continues just as it was when you leave a place is still something I have to wrap my head around. The visual graphic of my life would have to be represented as an intricate web in which there isn't simply one line, but a web of tracks with intersecting nodes indicating shifts in direction.

Peveragno, Italy (only church, main piazza)

Before I knew it, I was on to my next transition: the summer in Italy. I arrived in Torino on a rainy Saturday afternoon and soon met my new roommates, Sirio and Albino. They're a married couple in their 40s from South Italy, Naples and Matera, respectively. I found the room at their apartment on the internet, by chance, and after they accepted me we found out they are good friends of not one but TWO of my professors! Just goes to show you the the world really is small. They are incredibly fun to be around and very giving individuals. Albino is a mechanic by day and a club promoter/PR person by night - apparently he's very well known in Turin because we can't walk a single block without people stopping him to say hello. Sirio is a felicitous casalinga, or housewife, and she is rather serious about a few things: playing The Sims with a lot of strategy, watching Gossip Girl (dubbed), and perfecting the art of homemade bread. They are the right amount of altruistic and eccentric for me to feel right at home.

joking around with Fatemeh before the ceremony

look out professional life, here i come

ah yes, my future awaits...

What else? Well, this past weekend I graduated. Only symbolically, though, because I technically have to finish 3 workshops and my thesis in order to get my diploma. There are so few of us that it was prudent for the ceremony to happen when it did and the graduation was really quite lovely. There were lots of Torino big-wigs in attendance, two professional photographers, a videographer, and a guy from the local news channel who interviewed me. I'm not too thrilled about the last bit because said newsman caught me at a particularly sweaty post-outdoor-photo-shoot moment in which I felt flustered and unprepared - not to mention the post-production error of his misspelling my name. I'm not bitter. But if you'd like to share in my shame, watch a local news segment in Italian, or feel like you were present at the ceremony, feel free to click here (skip ahead to 5:29 if you'd like to just see my part). Shucks, I almost have a Master's degree, but not yet… exactly. Let's all cross our fingers for these next months to go well. 

serious buffet action

donning my "arts and business" hood post-graduation

I should also mention I went to my professor's birthday party in a very small town 1.5 hours outside Torino on Sunday. Her party started at noon and - no joke - went on until 11PM and all the guests stayed the entire time. This must be a cultural thing because I tend to think you couldn't make an American stay at a party longer than 4 hours if you paid them. But we ate ALL DAY, Italian wedding style. We had a pre-lunch "aperitivo" that included nuts, chips and prosecco, then came the whole roast pig, potatoes, Rocío's infamous seafood paella, sliced veal with tuna, salami, 2 types of bread, 4 types of cheese, pineapple, strawberries, cake, gelato, dolcetto, moscato, grappa, genepy, you see where I'm going with this. I ate and drank for 11 hours, and just to give you a sense of the rustic Italian flavor of this festa, once the second round of dolcetto bottles were removed from the tables one of the guests brought out his accordion and everyone started singing classic Piedmontese ballads. As token foreigner and exotic party guest I was asked a question that has become a favorite of Italians: is Chuck Norris really a Texas Ranger? TV is really behind over here, that's all I can say.

lunch (and dinner!) in rustic Italian country house 

excitement over the roast pig (note the gesticulating Italian hands)

I've got to get back to working hard and finishing this degree. Though it's hard to do when you feel like you've already graduated. Alas! Lots of love from the former Roman Empire and current center for natural disasters!

[Dis]connectedness

I don't know what happened to April, I feel like it was here one day then gone the next. Lately I've been extremely introspective, and even though it sounds silly, I've been doing a lot of thinking. Intense pondering, you know, the kind where your mind hurts after. I imagine it's due to the questions my thesis re-writes have raised and having to defend my stance on some issues - the problem being figuring out exactly what my position is in the first place. 

Central Park in bloom

A few weeks ago I took my laptop to Bryant Park on one of the rare and enjoyable 70 degree New York afternoons and it quite literally took me 3 hours to write 2 (double-spaced!) pages of text. I couldn't stop ruminating over minute details of my argument, and the more I wrote, the more questions my mind produced. To summarize my thesis topic I'll say I've been writing about my generation, the millennials, and how arts institutions have to adapt in response to drastic changes in modes of cultural participation. And for the past month I've been in one of those situations where the idea or topic you have in mind suddenly starts cropping up in everything you see, hear, and read. 

For the past few weeks I've continued to come across articles detailing the psyche of the millennial generation: expressive, confident, connected, excellent at research and multi-tasking. Yet we are also described as the least empathetic generation in decades; we consider money and image more important than self-acceptance and being part of a community. Naturally, I wanted to defend us, to say this wasn't true. In dissecting these recent studies, researching the history of cultural participation, and mapping the social implications of technological trends, though, I found myself questioning if this really wasn't true. The word that has stuck with me is connected. 

The Cloisters, Manhattan

I am certainly connected in the sense of being linked to or associated with people, news, ideas, and content via modern technology and the Internet, but what about true connection in terms of identifying with or relating to people, ideas, and content in more traditional forms? I began my research thinking technology was a catalyst for connection and creativity, and I still believe it is to an extent. But there is an unspeakable alienating effect of being a part of a generation that has a constant need to be connected; one that measures social value in terms of Facebook friend count instead of real time spent with a friend. 

Technology has given me the opportunity to video chat with my family from across the world (or across the house, if I want) yet its prevalence in my life has reduced my need and ability to recall from memory phone numbers, birthdays, and even prose. I can list on one hand the number of people who call me on the phone instead of texting. Every time I give someone a hand-written note they are touched and say it is a dying art form. At a brunch I attended this afternoon a few people were more concerned with updating their location and posting photos than conversation, so much so that I wondered whether we're not all living a parallel virtual life instead of enjoying the real one. We update and share things online to make our lives seem more interesting than they are, all so that a bunch of acquaintances and a few real friends can give their thumbs up to our successes or casually commiserate with our plights.

Brooklyn Botanic Gardens

I am guilty of this, too. Perhaps most obviously because I am ranting on a web log for no reason other than my supposition that people I know might be interested, and, of course, my own vanity. (But I suppose I can blame that on my generation.) I upload photos and write catchy one-liners about my day, checking on a regular basis to see who has commented. But why do I do this? All this time spent by myself, ruminating in New York City has shed some light on the matter. Millennials are unable to be alone. In moments of solitude, even intimacy, we have to be constantly connected. We're so busy communicating and trying to stay in-the-know that we don't stop and think about what really matters. Somehow we have come to believe that being constantly connected will make us less lonely. But the truth is, we have an inability to be alone, be separate, gather our thoughts.

a place for reflection, The Cloisters, Manhattan

Connectedness has created a vast wealth of opportunity to spread ideas, ignite creativity, and share thoughts. Yet in the process of all this exciting advancement, true emotional connection has fallen by the wayside. I felt an initial frustration at being alone in New York without many acquaintances, but soon thereafter I felt a particular freedom and thrill about it. In these few months of physical disconnection, away from both school and home, I have found a deeper connection with myself that has led me to stop, think, and fully comprehend what really matters to me. I don't want to be remembered as having been part of an image-absorbed generation with the least empathy, but rather one that exalts innovation, is open-minded and inclusive, and values connection in all its forms.

Gotta Have Friends

As I write this post, I may or may not be sipping on my second glass (let's be honest, my third) of Viognier and waiting for my clothes to dry. On a Saturday night. What? you're thinking, How can this be so? You live in New York City! Well darlings, I'll tell you, it's been a fun-filled month and even after a 2-hour power nap this afternoon I don't feel as though I've fully recharged my batteries yet.

just tea at the Plaza, it's how I do.

What happened this month? Let's see, there was my birthday on the 5th. Nothing too exciting to talk about, actually. (Though I did get not one, but two Edible Arrangements.) Turning the big Quarter Century in NYC, you'd think I would've painted the town red. Yet living in the big city can't exactly substitute the need for my gal pals and family. Plus it's hard to beat my birthday in Turin last year - surprise visit from Ricarda (who came all the way from Austria), badass brunch made by all my roommates, renting a rickshaw in the park, drinks at our apartment, "Mexican" dinner with 19 of my buddies from school, etc.  Though I managed to have a nice time this year. I went to the MoMA with Phyllis and we had a lovely afternoon tea at the Plaza Hotel.  I thought about asking her to hit the clubs with me, but then I remembered it was a Monday night and she's 78. Also, there's just something about turning the big 2-5 that gets a girl thinking. Where is my life going? What are my marriage prospects, if any? Should I be popping out babies? Which are questions that only come to mind when considering the relationships and lives of the women around me - engaged, married, full of babies, etc. I gotta figure that shit out at some point.

me at The Armory Show… solo!

So alongside this mini quarter life crisis is the fact that for the past 2.5 weeks I've been living sans Phyllis, which is rough. Not only because now I have to forage for food all by my lonesome, but because this apartment is so lonely without her. I think living alone in New York City must be the most alienating experience possible, yet considered by some to be reserved only for the very "fortunate." I figured out that I've never actually lived alone before. Sure, I've had days by myself without roommates, but this just made me sad. I ate breakfast alone, and there was no one to summarize the Times articles I hadn't read yet. I came home from work to an empty house and my attempts at sustenance were laughable at best.

best pizza in New York (so far) : Kesté

Luckily March was full, and continues to be full, of friends passing through the city. After Phyllis' departure, my old pal/old restaurant boss Reagan came into town and we met up with another former coworker to taste the town. It was great to see him, catch up on his life and new additions to the family, plus try some badass restaurants/coffee shops/bakeries/wine bars that I otherwise wouldn't have known about. The thing about seeing old friends is that no matter how much time has passed, you can always seamlessly pick up where you left off.

bleu cheese burger and rosemary garlic fries at The Spotted Pig!

A week later I was preparing for the arrival of my two college roommates, some of my oldest friends.  Nicole and Madison came for a long weekend overlapping St. Patty's and it was such a blast. Nicole came up from San Antonio and Madison from Los Angeles. It had been a year and a half since we'd all 3 been together. We made rice krispie (whisky) treats, caught up on each others' lives, and relived our glory days (aka college). We tried to do a proper New York trip - bagels, Times Square, bike ride through Central Park, theatre, hot dogs, The Met, brunch, cabs, Bloomingdale's, FAO Schwartz, corned beef, you get the picture. Again, I can't express enough how having your friends around really makes a difference in life. It's a refreshing feeling and it reminds you of where you come from, who you are.

these are my friends, and thus, this is me.

you guys should try this: whisky and cinnamon will revolutionize your rice krispie treat experience

As per a suggestion by Madison (via Neil Patrick Harris) we participated in an interactive street theatre performance called Accomplice.  We were called by the actors a day before to set up a meeting point in Manhattan, then we met fellow accomplices and our top secret contact.  We then helped with a shady scavenger hunt/mystery that took us on a downtown walking tour on the evening of St. Patty's. For over 3 hours we traced clues, got the skinny from our "sources", drank beers and made our deliveries for The Boss. It was so much fun, definitely a crazy New York adventure we'll be telling for years to come.

Madison deciphering one of our clues

Nicole and Madison, on the trail during Accomplice

I took a long walk through Central Park today, admiring the few cherry blossoms and delighting in all the people who also wanted to enjoy the springtime air. I thought back to my friends visiting and us riding our bikes through the paths, those are already great memories.  It's strange how you can be living in the most sought-after city in the USA but if you don't have anyone to share its beauty with, somehow it just doesn't seem as special. Certainly I can't already be jaded because I haven't been living in this city long enough, yet I have understood some fundamental truths. Plain and simple you've just gotta have friends. If you don't, who's going to share the story about being an accomplice, and for that matter, who's going to be there to bail you out if you ever do get caught up in a life of crime? Food for thought…

fresh mozzarella, Eataly, New York