I have decided....

That I don't really like blogs anymore. I find my Google Reader to be a never-ending source of disappointment. Any inspiration or observation I can muster goes to admissions essays or elsewhere. In a phrase: I'm spent. So this will be the last post on this blog, unless a life-altering event occurs.

It's been real.

LA

Nominate Me for the Members Project!

I’ve submitted a proposal to the American Express Members Project to close the youth mentoring gap. This is a HUGE opportunity to reach thousands of youth across the country. Would you help me get the project into the Top 25?

Members Project is an exciting initiative that brings people together to make a difference in the world. It's simple. People go online to share ideas for projects—and ultimately vote on which projects will share $2.5 million in funding from American Express. For more information on the Amex Members Project visit:
http://www.membersproject.com/

To nominate "Closing the Youth Mentoring Gap. Changing Lives" for Members Project:

1)      Go to www.membersproject.com

2)       If you aren't a cardmember, click on the "guest sign up" link in the bottom right corner (under NOT A CARDMEMBER?). If you are a cardmember, log in using the box in the upper right corner.

3)      Sign up using any email address
Once you're logged in, go back to the homepage www.membersproject.com

4)      Use the bottom tabs to find our project under Education --> Achievement Gap

5)      Click the "nominate" button on the right to cast your vote!

 

Many thanks!

And so it is...

Due to the fact that I've had multiple people remark on my affinity for Jeremy Shockey, and his exodus from New York, I have decided to pay homage to him, and to welcome our new friend Brett Favre to the Jets. I don't feel good about this. I like my legendary, record-setting QBs to be settled in nice places like Minnesota and Wisconsin. Rebellious tight ends with too much to prove should be on the East Coast, where I could run into them at the Borgata or something.

But...is it me or.....does he actually look happy here?

(thanks to Del for sending me this pic!)

The time has come

I suppose the time has come for me to address a certain situation, that one of our readers already mentioned in the comments. I was trying to ignore it, but I can no longer hide from reality.

Jeremy Shockey is no longer a Giant.

I am deeply saddened by this loss. I am playing with the idea of watching Saints games, the way that one might watch Brett Farve (i mean in the past few years...I can't even get into his current drama) because he's awesome while having no real connection to the Green Bay Packers.

As much as I love you Jeremy, you are no Brett. Granted you both have your fair share of media coverage at this point, and I'd marry either of you if given half a chance. But other than that I can draw no more similarities.

Your potential to achieve Brett status (in my eyes)exists, and perhaps the change of scenery will do you some good. Maybe you won't be as mean to Drew Brees as you were to our Eli.  Maybe you'll be less "combustible" on and off the field. I always admired your willingness to beat yourself up if you made a mistake. Perhaps I didn't realize that you were potentially beating up other players when they did the same.

So long Jeremy! Perhaps we'll meet again in fantasy football land.

Causa y Efecto

A man slapped me this morning. This isn't my chance to self-disclose about domestic violence or anything. A man slapped me because he wanted me to step out of the way as he ran toward the front of the subway. When I yelled after my slapper, he turned to me and said "good morning".

That makes three

Continuing my list of favorite places in Santiago, which has now spilled over into its fourth month with only two posts under my belt, I bring you La Vega.

This is the Vega by mercado central, not to be confused with the other, larger and scarier Vega on the other side of the tracks. This Vega is the feria where, on a lazy Sunday afternoon Liz and I would go and get special gringa priced palta and tomates. We'd create some sort of concotion with whatever looked freshest, generally involving pan de pita and quesillo. Our big plastic shopping bags would be too heavy for one of us, and we'd hop onto the micro, with one handle in each of our hands connected by produce and awkwardly navigating seats filled with moms and their crying babies. At home, unloading the groceries and realizing we'd bought too much for two people, we'd start texting and skyping friends, inviting them over to share our feast. A few hours and boxes of gato later, we'd made the most of our lazy sunday.

Thank the thankless please

You know you're having a good time when someone brings you and unexpected free lunch, and then apologizes for the fact that you have to walk less than 30 feet to get your soda. It is an especially good time when at your last conference, know one gave you anything, they treated you like you were an inconvenience, and merely offered cashews and a cash bar at their big "reception".

With all of this conference-related traveling, I've come to realize that event and conference planners have thankless jobs. I don't even remember the name of the conference facilitating this thing, just that it's an NAF conference. Thus, NAF gets all of my praise, much of it deserved. However, had this experience been as crappy as what I got from Czarsnowski, I'm sure I'd know. Because I'd be bitchily complaining about it.

Next time you are at an event, thank them for not being assholes. Not just the hosts, but whoever is standing around wearing black holding a clipboard. It's good karma.

Meet the Fake Boyfriend

Fake Boyfriend (n):

1) The guy you're having sex with, and going on dates with, and texting all day who won't commit, or who you won't commit to;
2) Your male "best friend" who you go on dates with, who your social circle thinks your dating, but you've never crossed the platonic ocean with

Main distinctions between the fake boyfriend and the fuck buddy:
1) Fake boyfriend calls you for more than sex (def.1)
2) Fake boyfriend wants you for something other than sex (def.2)

The whole idea of dating/vs. not dating, commitment-phobes and casual sex is nothing new, but if I hear one more girl tell me that plans are on hold or up in the air because she's making plans with fake boyfriend, I'm going to scream. I'm all for male friends, and tend to prefer their interaction to women's at times (except that as a result of the preference, I talk like a gd sailor), but we're taking it too far. The end result is: the fake relationship precludes the real relationship. So for all of those women (and men) out their who are using their fake partners in place of their real ones because they're afraid of commitment, don' t they realize that they're actually just in a relationship anyway? And in #2's case, a sexless one?

Just for the record, my current scorecard: Fake boyfriends - 2, Real boyfriends - 0.

I hate happiness

Negativity is inevitable. People who never have a negative thing to say about their wives, or jobs, or cars, or tiny, walk-up apartments are (frankly) liars. I stand behind this to the end. Dissension and expression of negative thought is a healthy part of the day to day is honest.

I hate business jargon. I don' t want anyone "taking my temperature" during a meeting, I don't want every conversation I have to end with an "action item", and as useful as they are "next steps" make me a little nauseated.

What business jargon is good for is eliminating negativity. It forces you to turn a negative thought into a positive one. For example "I forgot I had a meeting and missed it because I'm a fuck up" turns into "There was a miscommunication and/or scheduling conflict on my end. My next steps will be to review my current action plan for dealing with meetings so that I can stay on top of things in the future."

My problem with this is NOT that I don't think that people should be polite, or that we shouldn't make an effort to be professional, cordial human beings. My problem is that it is FAKE. People don't talk like that of their own volition. They do it because they are trained to, and don't want to step on anyone's toes.

They want this:

That's probably not such a bad thing. It's just unrealistic. We're adults with colorful vocabularies, with character and personality. Take away the negativity and we're all the same, just sitting around in our happy safe space where there are no arguments and we all have the same ideals. That place sounds really boring.
I'll share something else: I don't have the same ideals as you do. I believe in certain things, I don't believe in others. I don't believe in absolute openness, and at the same time I don't believe in secrets*. I believe in democracy but not in the democratic party**.

There is obviously a happy medium here, but how far will we go to find it? How many meetings and brainstorming sessions does it take to figure out that sitting around with people you did not choose to sit around with is hard?

*This is a complicated belief. If you really don't want anyone to know something, you shouldn't tell anyone. The minute you open your mouth, something stops being a secret. True secrets are the ones you don't tell.
**I don't believe in the Republican Party either. Again, this is because I DON'T HAVE THE SAME IDEALS AS YOU. Finding an institution that aligns with your ideals 100% is rare.

So many strange things just sort of happen. You can’t plan them, or predict them. Sometimes you don’t even know they’ve happened until three days later.

 

I haven’t had a real place to live in a few months, because I’m lazy, because I’m busy, because I changed jobs (twice, I guess).

 

Those aren’t the only reasons. I also change my mind a lot.

 

My mother said to me the other day that in certain ways, I was so much like her mother. What? My mother rarely speaks kindly about Grandma, and I remember three main things about her:

 

1)       Veiny hands

2)       Hated our dog Lady

3)       Had a very “eat your vegetables” attitude.

 

I’d find out later that she had a particular affinity for me. She must have enjoyed crippling shyness.

 

My mother continued “My mother had a few absolutes in her life. There were certain things that she just believed in, and didn’t budge on. You’re just like that.”

 

That’s pretty much true. I’m full of dealbreakers. It’s one of the reasons that relationships don’t work out for me. I find it difficult to deal with people who don’t meet certain standards, however arbitrary they might be. I think them through, but they only seem to make sense to me. Like the fact that I find hard affiliations to political parties meaningless.

 

The thing is, I know that I would never live up to my own standards, because I change my mind all the time. I could go to bed dreaming of the perfect apartment that absolutely had to be in Inwood, where I would speak Spanish to my super and take the A train and have pretty red walls and a t-shirt pillow. I would work tirelessly for weeks trying to find the perfect apartment. And then suddenly, hey! I want to live in Riverdale! Closer to my sister, L-shaped studio with bedroom alcove, bring a guy home from the bar in three or four short steps. Or maybe Pittsburgh…

 

Can you be absolute, and also live in a constant state of flux? I honestly don’t know. But I’m starting to wonder why I’m so often compared to old people.   

 

Everybody Wants You: Comission-Based Grant Writing

Pretty much every day, someone asks my opinion about grant writing. I didn’t spend all that much time doing it, but am apparently approachable about the subject. After a fair number of cocktails, I suppose I’m more approachable in general. One this is for sure: For new-on-the-scene idealists, the idea of one person being responsible for a pile of money being deposited into a bank account is a lot to digest.

It doesn’t work the way that most people think it does. Grant writing is more than writing, it’s research, following directions, program development, framing, networking, shaking hands and kissing asses. The most well written grant in the world won’t win unless the program or research project is good, or the organization has a perfect reputation.

But people always want grant writers to write on commission. This infuriates me, on a number of levels, as it would any self-respecting writer. I don’t work for free. My words actually have finite value, and whether you ultimately win the grant or not, I have spent time writing them.

Here are some of my favorite grant-related questions:

1) Will you write a grant for me?

Maybe. Depends on how much I like you, your program, and how ready you are for the money. I have written grants for free, for cookies, for money…it all depends. But it’s a choice.

2) I can’t afford to pay a grant writer. Why can’t I use grant money once won to pay the grant writer?

If you can’t afford a grant writer as a full time employee or consultant, you shouldn’t have one. Very few foundations say “Here’s a check. Have fun!” They want reports, they want to check-in, they want to come for a visit; if you are struggling with the grant writing process, you need to assess your organizational capacity. (Blue avocado has a much less bitchy take on when to and when not to hire a grant writer)

There are many writers (maybe not trained grant writers) who will volunteer to write a grant for you. Grant writing can also fall on program staff, the Board of Directors, or the Executive Director.

The important thing to remember is: the grant writer does not necessarily control the process. Funds are distributed based on the merits of the program, not the merits of the writing.

3) My grant writer failed. Why do I have to pay her?

You have to pay her if she produced what you asked for. If she gave you a recipe for grape nut salad instead of a proposal for a reading program, send her on her way. If she produced a cohesive proposal for funding, she did her job.

4) Why do grant writers charge so much if they aren’t in control of the process?

Usually, because they have connections, a reputation or a particular area of expertise. You might a pay for someone who has a particular track record with New York City family foundations because they will know exactly what the funders are looking for, and put you in a better position. Some grant writers are also knowledgeable about program development (like me!) and can help you build or revamp a program to make it more viable for funding. That is slightly different from traditional grant writing, and thus comes at a cost.

This post was sparked by a number of discussions on YNPN (SFBay) and blueavocado today. Please check them out!

The five reasons why I quit my job (and things you should consider if you feel like quitting yours)

So suddenly, I'm an expert on jobs. A hasty move back to the States made me face a number of realities: I had to get a job, it had to pay well, and it was never going to be like my last one...which I LOVED. So I hastily took another job, which was perfect on paper. I quit three months later. My propensity for updating my gchat status regularly, as well as some drunken facebook wall posts left many people wondering why I quit. I talked to very few people about it, because things got kind of dramatic and I was wearing out the few people I did talk to with the specifics. My bartender (and friend) actually said to me "just stop going to work so you'll stop talking about it."

But whatever, I started a new job.

A friend asked me for pointers on how to make a new employee feel comfortable (he's hiring his own replacement). What I told him, after I said "Tell them you're happy they're here (literally, say 'I'm happy you're here') is that if you feel uncomfortable about anything in the first two hours, you might never shake it.

I'm wrestling with this so much; the organization I worked for did WONDERFUL things for WONDERFUL girls. The job description fit like a glove. What went wrong? Was it all me? Was the transition too much? Maybe.

But not just me. It was a bad work environment, so I quit. Here's why:

1)The Phone
I was set up with a "desk" that didn't have a phone. It's a small non-profit, so at first it wasn't such a big deal, but the constant demand that make phone calls, and the fact that my ED said to me "I don't have time to sit on the phone all day...you do" should have tipped me off that I should move on right away.

2) The Silent Treatment
From the time I gave in my letter (which after I was taken out onto the street and "convinced" to think my decision over for a few days before I did anything drastic...I call this "the most uncomfortable three cigarettes of my life"), the award-winning Executive Director of a respected non-profit just. stopped. speaking to me. Literally, not a single word. She looked at me once, but I think it was a mistake. Maybe she thought I was someone else, like the mail carrier or Mister Softee. But no fuck you, no thank you, nothing. And no, she isn't five years old. Which brings me to number 3.....

3) Founder's Syndrome
Founder's syndrome is a very real, and very dangerous thing. Founders pour their heart and soul and blood and sweat and (insert cliche here) into their work, and ultimately have a difficult time moving on, letting others in, etc. It's like having a baby, getting them past the awkward growing up and then saying "hey, I'm supposed to let go because you might be able to raise my kid better than I can." I get it, I really do. But I'm also very smart, very strong-willed, and very ambitious. I don't always expect to the get what I want, but I do expect to be heard. When a founder can only hear her own words as they bounce around the room and back into her head, we have a problem. And it's time to go.

4) Respect
There are powerful people in life who command respect, and there are no questions. This is not a mutual feeling. These are people like Jeff Sachs and Brett Farve (if you're me)...you respect them, they don't have to respect you. Necessarily.

When you work with people, it's a bit different. You have to remember that they hired you because they thought you were good. While it might be easy to turn it into a "gratitude for giving me the job" situation, that's really not how it works. You are doing something for them, and your resume being plucked from the pile, and your making it to the third interview means that you should be respected. By the founder, executive director, HR staff, whoever. You have already earned it. Any place that puts you into the cycle of "I'm the boss and I get to shit on you and treat you like a moron" is probably always going to treat you that way. If you aren't being respected, demand that respect. If you're good at your job, you deserve it.

Needless to say, the respect that I needed to be successful never came.

5) The job you have vs. the job you want
I think we all fantasize about quitting things. Someone is yelling at you, something is screwed up, someone stole your computer to use your desk for a bagel party and left crumbs all over it....and you want to throw your hands in the air and say "Fine, I'm leaving! Suck it!" But you don't. Or maybe you just dream big, always comparing the job you have with the job you want.

Yeah....that's not what happened with me. I had the job I wanted, it just wasn't the job the organization wanted. They hired someone to fill a position that could not exist in their current structure. This isn't the end of the world, and truth be told a similar thing just happened with my beloved volunteers. It just wasn't my fault, and the blame ultimately fell on me not "being flexible" or "being dishonest". It was really easy to believe that those things were true.

So I got out. Do I know how things are going to turn out at the new place? Nope. Do I think I did the right thing? Yes.

I read the new job description posted for my old position. They altered it quite a bit, made it more realistic. Old co-workers have told me that they are approached about how they're doing, if there is anything that needs to change to make their lives easier. They heard me even if they weren't listening. I think we're all better off.

Four on the Floor: Plaza Italia

I guess I’m continuing my favorite places in Santiago list with another no-brainer/somewhat cheesy place. And I suppose “favorite” is something of an overstatement: I’ve had friends get beaten up and robbed, I had a hooligan try to steal my purse (he really should have gotten it too…he was a very bad thief), and I was once surround by a group of drunks who proceeded to just stare at me and then get closer and closer…like being on the Metro but on a street corner with no one else around (save my taxi driver, who swept me away).

So I should hate Plaza Italia. And yet, there are so many reasons not to:

1) I lived there, and moved in the day that Pinochet died, hauling my belongings into my apartment to the increasing swell of chanting and noise from outside the window.

2) It’s the perfect meeting place, even for clueless gringos in their first week of volunteering.

3) Giant puppets pee in the street.

4) The Paulistano Schoperia – Best place to watch a futbol game….if you’re Brazilian (this is also the scene of the infamous “blondy girl” incident.

5) Dog fights.

Quitters sometimes win

I've had another one of those "finding yourself" weeks, and it led me to quit my job. After a little over two months. Maybe it has to do with feeling like my choices were making me (leaving Chile as I did, living in New York, etc.), or being in an industry where your politics and your job are intertwined. I can't say that there is ever a time when you feel more completely and utterly in control of your life and destiny than the moment you give notice. It isn't easy, or pretty, but there is something slightly empowering about the whole thing. 

That's not why I did it. I did it because some people are dumb and don't deserve the jobs they have, while others toil away over qualified and under appreciated.*** I did it because sometimes you have to speak up, or else nothing will change, whether it's speaking out about an insane law, or demanding that junior staff members are treated with respect.

Because I want to tell everyone: If you are young, or in some to other way inexperienced, and you do your job as best you can, and say please and thank you, YOU DESERVE TO BE RESPECTED. Seniority and favoritism and idiocy can anda la chucha for all I care. Don't ever let anyone blame you for something you didn't do just because you're new, or make you feel worthless because you don't know where the paper towels are kept. Insecure people do that. And you are better. 

It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me. And I'm feeling good.****

***I am aware that this happens everywhere, and that my next place of business may employ some idiot who can't do her job either. I could literally write for hours about my (now) former co-worker who was so grossly unqualified for her director-level job that I had to sit at my tiny desk and laugh/weep daily. But I'm sure we all have those stories. However, when my fiscal director doesn't understand the concept of a fiscal year, it gives me pause. Am I wrong? Can you do me one better? I double dare you. 

****I'd feel better if my new job was, say, the New York Giants official pep-talker or funny tshirt maker. A girl can dream. Or John Mayer's joke writer. Or Jeff Tweedy's...drinking buddy? That's pretty wrong. I take it back.

The Lull and the Mull

Given that I have a lull in my three week mad dash to meet grant deadlines, I thought I'd catch up with some blogging. Because I love nothing more than talking incessantly about myself.

Most of my job is foundation grant writing. Contrary to what some may believe, this is really a group process. Not that everyone is doing the work, but rarely can a proposal be submitted with out read-throughs, revisions and approvals. I don't mind this, as I think that an executive director should have the ultimate say in how i ask for $50,000 or $2 million. However lately, with impending deadlines I start to wonder where all the time went.

For the second time this week, I've done all of my work but my day is put on hold as I wait for th final input that preps the proposal for final submission. This inevitably happens after hours, when people are really feeling the push; people need a sense of urgency to make decisions.

But I start to think about what my time is really worth. As a freelancer, I've had to many times ask myself realistically, how much is my writing worth? Quoting rates, underselling and overselling is all in a day's work (as you can see from this spirited thread over at Freelance Writing Jobs). But since grant writing is my salaried job, I don't have the luxury of billing for hours spent waiting. And truly, in this world of flex-time, working until 10:00pm one night just means I have a blissful sleep-in or morning of errand-running in my future.

That's hardly the point. It's Friday night and I'm trying to make some after-work plans, trying to have a life that I can't seem to have during the working week. But I'm still waiting for that phone call. Lucky for me, I have the opportunity to work remotely on certain days, and as I write this I'm sitting in my favorite wi-fi equipped Irish pub sipping on a Stella. A little unprofessional, but not a bad life.

I'm sure I could work out what my hourly wage is, and how much it is in turn costing my organization to pay me to essentially sit here. Under normal circumstances, I'd be catching up on other work related tasks, it is just difficult to have to idea hanging over you that at anytime the phone will ring and I'll have to drop it all to go back to my proposal. There are few tasks that I could assign myself that allow for such flakiness. Blogging, obviously, lends itself nicely to this lifestyle. If only they new they were paying me to post this!

But I ask everyone, as people, what is our time really worth? How long should we have to wait?

The funniest thing I've heard this week...

It's only Tuesday, and this is shaping up to be a real shit-show. I'd planned on continuing with my Santiago list, but I'm in a bad mood and I feel like that might hinder my ability to paint a picture of wonderment and happiness.

Entonces....

I'll instead share with you a text that was sent to my sister, from a friend who had been at the bar a little too long:

"Hey Mermaid! You got some seaweed up in you tail..."

Apparently, this was meant as an invitation to the previously mentioned bar.

Five Alive: Patio Bellavista

I'm pretty sure I'm going to get some crap for this (obvio), but as I was compiling my list of my lugares favoritos in Santiago, I decided to start at the bottom with number cinco. And that led me to the ever-touristy, but pretty damn awesome Patio Bellavista. So maybe the crafts are a tad overpriced (as is the Guinness), and it's not exactly a hideaway (on Pio Nono por Dios!), but let's break down the pros:

1) There is Yogen Fruz
2) There is Vino Navegado
3) There is the Organic Coffee Man, who told me not to worry about anything, it was all going to be ok, when I broke down in tears while choosing a tin to bring home, the day before I left Santiago for good.

All this and you can sit outside! This is truly a happy place.

"Sick"

The truth is, I'm sick as a dog. I don't get sick like most people do. I have an above average immune system, so I don't necessarily have the dripping nose or constant coughing. But on the inside, I feel it. But no one ever believes me.

I went to work today, because I had been in bed for two days, and watched an episode of One Tree Hill, signaling to me a real and intense need to do something productive. I kept opening up my laptop to work on something, when I would get distracted by Best Week Ever. I figured, even in my pathetic state, up and out of bed was the way to go.

People have a lot of opinions about non-profits, ranging from the whole "you guys are saints" attitude to a more cynical "why don't you have a real job" (thanks dad!). I'm on the fence about the whole thing myself. There is something about this new job, which I should absolutely not be talking about online, and one a blog that isn't all that hard to find, and which has my gd photo on it. But let me break something down:

I was the only administrative person in my office today. I'm a mid-level development person, but pretty close to the bottom of my particular orgs totem pole. The "administrative team" is fairly tight knit; we share very close quarters, overhear lots of each others' conversations, and generally tolerate each other. And yet, I was ridiculous annoyed that I was the only one in the office today. not because I think people shouldn't get sick, but because there wasn't any sort of email or pow wow or something about it. I mean, for frick's sake. For a bunch of people who truly believe that the world begins and ends with them (i am SO going to get it for that comment), how could you not give anyone a heads up that you aren't coming in? Am I crazy?

I take a step back and realize that I left New York initially because of this nonsense, because the pettiness of office politics was overshadowing the work. When I left my first non profit job, it was because I was really annoyed at my co-workers, and it clouded my judgment about everything. I like to pretend that I'm not that young and naive anymore. But that was only three years ago, so who am I kidding.

So I've come to terms with the fact that I will never like everyone I work with, nor will I like every aspect of my job. And that there are some really bad days. Or weeks. Unfortunately, when I'm unhappy, I always think of Chile. I didn't even like it all that much, yet I can't go back whenever I want, and that really makes me sad. So for a while, I've been trying to think of all of my favorite places in Chile, or I guess Santiago itself. Since I get a lot of ex-pats asking me questions about Chile.

That's coming up. And less complaining about work. Of course, feel free to leave your work idiocy in the comments.

Pop Tarts are disgusting

When I returned from Chile after almost two years away, I could think about little besides food. Ok, that's not true, as anyone who has ever read this blog probably knows. However, I was so unbelievably ready to eat like a normal person again, it was beyond ridiculous. I love a good completo, or a lomito italiano. Eating either one of those things with any regularity is, obvio, wrong on many levels.

I realize that speaking as someone who had to have emergency surgery while living in Chile that affects my eating habits to this day and forced me to eat nothing but quesillo, mermalada and galletas aqua for months, I might be a bit biased in my outlook at Chilean food. But the bottom line is: I am from New York. I grew up spoiled in terms of food. Chile was a shock to my system, in more ways than one.

So returning to States, I had a list of all the things I was ready to eat. They were almost all from the Chinese food menu, since Chinese food in Chile is a constant source of disappointment to me and others. I ate sesame chicken everyday for the first week that I was home, due in part to my varying hospital stays, and the fact that people were constantly throwing 20s at me and telling me to “make sure I eat something”. I gained 10 pounds.

And then I moved on to those brightly packaged, hold a meal in your hand kind of American treats. I was thrilled one day to find out that pop tarts only cost two dollars, yet disappointed that they don’t make the low fat s’mores ones anymore. But my American desire for a deal made me grab them anyway.

My god, why did we ever eat these things? Mealy grossness with crusty sugar topping? Propensity to burn in toaster oven if not carefully watched? Lip scalding jam hidden inside? I am disgusted and appalled.

Tomorrow, I choose toaster strudel.

18-1

I don't even have to say it. It's all been said.

But maybe Mr. Terrific should take a lesson from the Manning bros about how to be gracious and humble. I blame Belichik. For everything.

This could be better....

I love the Giants. This, my friends, is no secret. I screamed horrible things at Tynes when he missed those two field goals, all the while telling Eli that he was doing a great job, no matter what. And really, I'm a Brett Farve fan, as long as he isn't playing the Giants.

But really, wouldn't this whole thing be better if anyone would give us a little credit? We didn't win the Dallas game, they lost. We didn't win today against Green Bay, they collapsed. Do 10 straight road games, and the calm, cool, collected play of a fourth year QB who's never won a playoff game mean nothing? Seriously Fox Sports, Sports Center and NFL on CBS. Show a little respect.

What about Chile?

Facebook is kind of killing me. I joined because one of the volunteers (he was 19, of course) kept telling me I was old because I didn't have an account, grandma jokes were tossed around. I was the oldest 26 year old in the room, so I bit the bullet.

I avoid Facebook like the plague. The photos of volunteers at retreat, the walls full of private jokes, the unanswered messages to me asking about my "return to my old life"...now I'm the oldest 27 year old in New York, as I now have a new life, and an old life, or something.

I'm erasing Chile from my life.

It's no real secret that I was never the biggest fan of the country. It's refreshing to be able to make friends with women again. It's nice to not to have people yell inappropriate things at me (although, now that I work in Harlem I can't say that never happens. In Harlem, people whistle).

I know that I'm making it worse on purpose, and that thinking about how much I miss my kids, and the fact that I can't replace them with the new girls I work with (although I might be able to be part of a book club for the girls! woot!). You'd think that, with the similar backgrounds of abuse and neglect, the focus on positive roles models, and the mission of putting children in charge of their own destiny rather than "saving"them, that the transition would be smooth.

But there was something comforting about living and doing this kind of work without my friends and family looking over my shoulder, being overly interested and making cracks about prostitution. Almost everyone I knew in Chile was involved with the kids in some capacity, aside from the random Chilean men I dated. And I can't say I ever talked to them about anything heavy. I never had to explain myself the way I do now. My conversations weren't all long political statements.

Or maybe they were. I can't remember.

Child Prostitution Laws in New York State: WTF

Here's some issue stuff I'm getting worked up about today. This is pretty outdated, but I'm new to all of this. Chew on it for a while, especially all of you New Yorkers:

Safe Harbor for Exploited Children...this didn't pass.

Disclosure

I've been toying with this post for a few days, writing it in my head on the subway or waiting for a bus. As much as I'm dying to relay the same kind of messages from my current job as I did from my last, I feel unbelievably guilty about disclosing exactly what's going on, or even where I'm working. It's all so sensitive, and it gets more real everyday. I'm an impostor there, and already have the feeling that I can't do much to help these girls. I can't relate to them, I can't ever truly understand them.

And then I try to wake from my melodrama. We had a long talk about disclosure today, the point being that at some point, the girls may want to discuss their situation with me. I am told that I have to be ready to handle it. Me. The girl who has already cried at her new job (tears of joy, because I got good news about my family while sitting at my desk). I have no idea what I would or wouldn't do, put in a situation that I merely write about on paper to solicit money. It's the kind of thing that in my world can't possibly be real.

I started listening to Ingrid Michaelson who, as it turns out, I totally know. We went to college together, and had lots of friends in common. We went to the same parties, and unknowingly gossiped about the same people. It is really weird to find yourself singing the songs and quoting the lyrics of someone you used to see perform in the dining hall. But I will anyway:

"I want to change the world, but instead I sleep." This is from "Keep Breathing" was featured heavily on Grey's Anatomy. Normally I'd say something snarky about that, but if there is one thing that Grey's does really well, it's drive home a scene with good music. Her song "The Way I Am" was in an Old Navy commercial, but I have issues with the video because of all the clowns.

So other people feel this way? All of the good intentions with none of the energy. Or good intentions leading to exhaustion because you feel like nothing you do is ever enough, like you'll never make a dent.

I had dinner with my best friend today, who I haven't been spending nearly enough time with. The theme of our meal, as if meals ever actually have themes, was DON'T FEEL GUILTY. About not having money, or moving to Chile, or leaving Chile, or being happy that you have the apartment to yourself, or that you don't speak Spanish anymore, or that you really like Grey Goose and won't drink well, or that you have a nice phone. Sometimes you need a nap, or can't get to the gym. Sometimes you just don't know what another person has gone through, but you listen to them all the same.

All you can do is try.

Never a doubt in my mind...

Eat that Barber twins!

Also: Never, ever read the "Weddings" section of the NYTimes. Thank me later.