When home is not the place to be a child

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “When Childhood Ends.”

With him recovered (recovering?) and me having lived abroad for more than two years now, it is sometimes easy to forget (pretend to forget?) that I grew up with an alcoholic father and a depressive mother. When I see them laughing together when we skype, or hear them ask me what could I possibly not be happy about given everything they offered me, it is easy to wonder whether it had really been that bad, or whether I had simply been imagining it.

But then, holidays come around and I go back to visit home, and get to see the mark on the wall left by a glass he threw in a fit some years ago, and get to look at the cards I gathered from these foreign places we were at for Christmas and New Years Eve, where instead of dancing or being out celebrating, I was in was room, comforting my sister, as we listened to our mother cry. I also see the fridge that I still shudder to open, dreading to hear the clinking of dozens of beer bottles and am still uncomfortable going in the basement for fear of seeing cases of alcohol. Then I remember not having ever had friends over, because I never knew if he was going to be awake or not, embarrass me, or worse and recall setting up longer practice hours and more tutoring session just so I wouldn’t have a reason to come home before nighttime, when I would sneak past his room and lock myself in mine.

I remember my sister crying herself to sleep every night and me not being able to stop her; I remember the screaming matches and the fear I felt for my mother and me not being able to protect her; I remember the pain in my grandmother eyes when mother would come home from working overtime to cover for him and me not being able to ease her; I remember me, sitting on the ledge of my balcony, thinking it would end if i were to move an inch and not being able to do it because then who would sit with my sister and play piano for my mother and help in the kitchen my grandmother? And then I remember the day he raised his hand and me, an 11 year old blond, blue-eyed girl blocking it.

That girl cried herself to sleep that night but vowed to never do so again. Crying never helped anyone. It caused headaches, and puffy eyes, that would raise questions in class next day, and would make it hard to focus. No, crying would not do it; working hard in class and on the court, getting ahead of everyone else, and being accepted in a college abroad more than eight years in the future, that was the way out. That girl never cried because of him or because of home ever again. But that girl, she was not a child anymore.

Australia or my newest 6 month relocation

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Study Abroad.”

The question today’s prompt asked is where I would choose to go for a year if I had the chance to study abroad. Coincidentally I am currently on a study abroad program in Australia, while already being an international student in the US.

The why question is one I got a lot recently and the easiest one I can answer probably. Why not?

I am young, only 20, I am free, not bound to any job or place and when else would I get the chance to explore a new culture, meet, live and study with people my age but raised differently and simply travel some more.

My initial choice of studying in the US came easy. It was far away from my parents and my own country that I had grown disappointed in, I got a chance to live in one of the most beautiful places in the world, enjoy a world-renowned education and experience a permanent summer. UCLA meant all those for me.

Leaving now for Australia was an even easier decision.

I needed a new change, a new adventure. It was again one of the furthest points I could find on a map. LA-Canberra  time difference is 18 hours. It was the best choice for a school in my field. ANU is ranked number 7 in the world for political science. I got to add number 34 to my ever growing list of countries visited and I had always had a fascination for the unknown land down under. The fact that is was actually cheaper to study here than in LA as an international student came as a bonus.

Now one month in my newest adventure I must admit I have mixed feelings. I came in overly confident that I had basically no need to adjust whatsoever. I had already been an international freshman and had done quite well. I had already moved to an English speaking country and hadn’t had any problems. I had traveled the world and never felt lonely. But I was surprised at how many challenges I encountered.

Nobody cared about me. The freshmen wanted to make friends with others who would be here as long as they were. The uperclassmen already had tightly knit groups of friends. Semesters run quite differently than the fast-paced quarter system I was used to and doing research by myself without being constantly tested requires all my determination. Tennis training proved to be a huge issue since Melbourne is the tennis capital of Australia and not Canberra. Slang use is wide-spread and I often find myself nodding and smiling and having no idea what the other person is saying. Even traffic being on the other side of the road requires daily reminders to look right before crossing. And on top of that, to my impression, Australians are so laid back and content with their country my international background and capabilities make no impression. Oh, you speak five languages, cool, let me grab another drink.

However, by all means, I do not and will not regret the decision to come here. Worse case scenario if my situation doesn’t improve I will have cut off a country from the list I mentally keep with possible ones to live in after I graduate. In any other possible course of events I emerge more mature, more confident, more open-minded, more cultured, more knowledgeable than before I left. How could someone regret that?

School here is amazing, with smaller classes and professors who insist on practicality (policy briefs instead of essays is just one example). ANU and Camberra are truly international spaces where I’ve met people from around the world. And I haven’t even begun to explore the rest of the country or the other major cities.

It’s true. I’ve had some tough days when I missed my already established routines and friends at UCLA. But I also enjoy the challenge of making it here as well. To consider myself an international citizen or part of the globalised youth I should be able to have a positive experience here. And even while eating lunch alone ( a feat I am definitely not used to ) I am certain I will find my way around. And if not, one can live through anything 6 months right?

Why do we want what we can’t and shouldn’t have? or Jealousy

Airplanes, skype, facetime, whatsapp, viber, and all the technology we have nowadays at our disposal has enabled us to cut travel times, transcend time-zones, remain connected even when we are the furthest away we’ve ever been. Having been to more than 30 countries, going to school on a different continent and simply living to travel, I had always been grateful to the available technology to keep in touch with whomever I meet on my journeys and leave behind when I move on.

Truthfully, I was never a sentimentalist, never crying at the airports and hating to say good-bye, never worried about leaving family, friends, boyfriends, relationships of any kind behind. People told me I am cold-hearted, but I felt I am too young to be tied down and there was so much more ahead of me than anything I could possibly leave behind. I always managed to maintain a distance with respect to the people surrounding me, as I knew I would soon leave. Still, the internet helped me create a sense of an international community that I am part of, having friends all over the globe and knowing I have someone to visit or crash at in all these different places. I always used it more for simply checking in, stalking what people have been up to, making sure I maintain enough of a presence so that people don’t forget me rather than actually maintaining any significant contacts. I only skype my parents when they forgot to refill my card or I miss seeing my dog and probably have two life-long friends that I talk to once every couple of months to make sure we’re seeing each other when we find ourselves in the same country.

And now I get to my story, of how the unexpected happened, and how despite me carefully not forming any lasting emotional attachment in person, I ended up being totally messed up by one formed on the internet.

When home is not home anymore and How playing a 10k in Italy decided my future

When home is not home anymore and How playing a 10k in Italy decided my future

After travelling for 21 hours straight, crossing an ocean and having two lay-overs, I would have expected to drop dead of tiredness not have an epiphany. Yet, as I found myself over Los Angeles, looking through the little window of the plane, I felt a shiver down my spine and a warm feeling inside of me: “I’m coming home” was all I could be thinking.
This past week, I was technically closer to home than anytime before in the past 8 months: in Europe, with my parents. However, that is not my home anymore. In my parents’ house, where I’ve lived for 12 years, stands my empty room and that is a place I’ve been wanting to leave for at least 10 out of those. Seeing my parents for the first time in such a long time, I expected to be at least content. I wasn’t. I was annoyed at their joy of seeing me, at their smiles, at their hugs. I couldn’t stand their poor English and their insistent question and thirst of hearing and seeing me. I didn’t want it to be that way. I certainly felt bad pretending, smiling and telling stories, in order for them to indulge my every wish, which they did, without even thinking, just because they finally had their daughter back.
I don’t know yet if Los Angeles is my home. I haven’t exactly lived in the city for on campus, in a shielded bubble. However, I know for sure that it is not where my parents are anymore. Flying to Italy, I was excited: I would play tennis at a tournament again, I would hear a foreign language, I would eat delicious food and I would admire good-looking Italian men. It was the excitement of discovery. Flying back to the US, I was excited: I would be back, start anew, ready to take on a new quarter, change my life, motivated. It was the excitement of coming home, recharged, with grand plans. 8 months ago, I remember being on the same flight to LA, but having the exact opposite sentiment, the first one I described: the shiver of experiencing something new. I was a bright-eyed little girl going on an adventure, leaving home behind. Now, I come back here, almost an adult, content to have explored something new, but happy to be home.

But now, a little about Italy.

A lesson in humility

http://dailybruin.com/features/jordyn-wieber-brings-strength-to-ucla-gymnastics-team/

 

Yesterday I hinted to the disappointed I faced when I arrived at my new home, not only not becoming part of the tennis team, but also, not even being given the chance to try out and measure myself  against the girls I could feel I am close to, in terms of tennis level.

I felt I was forced to give up my dream, even when it might not have been required and of course, the alternative, pouring all that energy and dedication into something else, that I didn’t even thought it existed was not very appealing.

I joined the tennis club, only for the opportunity to be on the court, still clinging to the hope of having try-outs at one point. I figured that the only other people whom I would benefit from playing with would be in it. It was terrible for me, seeing that we didn’t have a coach, that nobody was motivated to come out and train, not just hit around and play games, and that the competition was at a much lower level than I anticipated and hoped for.

In all honesty, I wasn’t happy, and I am fairly positive that it could be seen from the outside as well. I was stuck-up, thought myself better than everyone out there and had a diva-like attitude. Do not get me wrong, I worked hard. I only lost to one girl, against whom I also when playing the normal format, was on the court longer hours than anyone else, and had the work ethic I grew up with. They were happy to have me win matches, but I wasn’t part of the club. I didn’t want to. Respectful distance was all there was.

Fast forward 8 months later. We lose in the regional championships against USC and then to UCSB. I say we, but I wasn’t even on the court. It was crushing for the team, it was devastating for me. I did not understand why wasn’t I put to play, why didn’t they use me and my initial reaction was to say to myself that I didn’t lose anything. They did. I was more worried that I would not have whom to train with anymore, that I would be unprepared for Italy, my Italy, my tournament. But then I realized how sad I was for them. Our president is graduating this year. She won the tournament her freshman year and didn’t even qualify for it in her last year. I was hurting for her. And I was hurting for me and the other freshman who will be remembered for the first in history who did not qualify for nationals.

However, it wasn’t until I read this article about US Olympic Gold winner, Jordyn Wieber that I truly realized that not only did my attitude need to change, but that I wanted it to.

http://dailybruin.com/features/jordyn-wieber-brings-strength-to-ucla-gymnastics-team/

Jordyn Wieber is an amazing athlete, sponsored by Adidas, who took the highest stage in the world and delivered at the 2012 Olympic Games in London. Now, she moves the mats around for a team that she does not compete for and prepares the girls’ equipment, and she is happy.

Everyone looks up to her, respects her and is inspired by her and while she trains by herself, she does not feel like she is performing any lower duties. Or at least, this is what the article says.

I cannot imagine how someone who has a gold medal sitting at home feels in a small gym with no one to challenge her in it. Given, the gym may not be small, but we are talking about someone an entire country put faith in. I wonder how she stays motivated in this environment and what pleasure she takes in already being the best here, without even trying. I cannot comprehend this situation but I can acknowledge the beauty and honor in it.

I know that she still has access to all the facilities and everything she requires. Plus, she still trains with UCLA coaches, though not together with the team.

But, truthfully, it doesn’t matter. I just felt humbled and ashamed of myself. I will continue to work hard with my club team and for it, irrespective of my private goals and aspirations in the sport. I will hopefully take a position in a club that has allowed me to continue to cling to the prospect of me ever playing tennis at a competitive level again.

 I will honor the friends I made and smile more at practice. I can train by myself, I don’t need to ruin the fun for them. I need to realise that they were not exposed to the same schedule, intensity or level of competition and pressure that I was. And I have no right to hold it against them. For them tennis is a pleasant hobby and I should not intervene or judge.

 I will not.

Now I know that even if I make the varsity team next year, or even if I don’t, when I graduate and look back, the tennis club will be among the first things on my list of activities and organizations that have impacted me and my college life. Some of my friends will be from it. Some of the lessons I have learned will have come from it. And even some of my biggest victories will take place in it. Because I know I will have won them for someone other than me. And those will have their own flavor and place in my heart and story.

All in all, if I spend that many hours with it, I might as well start enjoying it, right? I will continue to refuse to play games at practice though, and that, nobody can hold it against me.

Deciding my future or Writing again, though not a rant

I am a strong, independent young lady that has never lost sight of her goals. Of course, I have had detours, of course there were times when I had doubts or felt disappointed. But, in my heart, I always knew what I wanted, how much I need to work for it, what I need to sacrifice in order to achieve it, and I always were able to make that choice. I walked through hell and back for my dream.

Romance especially, has never been able to make me stray from my path. Then, why now, why does this ordinary guy have this influence on me? And for so long. Why have I allowed my mind to drift away from my work, strayed away from my goal, become insecure, clingy, and awkward?

This is not a rant about my latest crush. This is me, reclaiming my life. Acknowledging the problem is always the first step towards solving it. I realise that this has gotten out of my control and I give myself until next Sunday to solve it. Either something comes out of it, or I will push this issue out of my life.

For the past 7 months I have had to deal with a wide arrange of new issues. Packing my life, moving to the other side of the world was not supposed to be easy. But, I probably should not be surprised that the real problems I encountered were not the stereotypical ones, not the ones I was warned of.

I, personally had to deal with defeat. I didn’t walk on to the women’s tennis team as I had planned on. I was not able to call myself a tennis player anymore. I lost my identity. Not having a coach and not affording to pay a physical trainer, I allowed myself to become ordinary. I put on 10 kilograms, and those were not the freshman 15. Since I moved to college and until my supposed “try-outs” I had actually lost weight. I was ready, prepared, fit. It was the disappointment, the loss of a goal and the entire situation with this guy that made me go back to sweets, to chocolate, to avoiding the running track, to avoiding the gym.

Today, I decided I cannot give up. Even if I have to take another path, I am a tennis player. I will train by myself and I will work harder than the others and I can and will still get there. And this starts today, with the first 25 days left until my first major competition in almost a year. A lot depends on it, but more depends on how I prepare for it, and how I change back to who I am supposed to be when entering such a competition.

This however, will turn into a long-term goal. As long as I am not on the team here at UCLA, it means that I am a full-time student, working towards my academic future and my career. Yes, my dream is to become a professional tennis player. But even if that becomes a reality, which I promise I will do anything in my power to make it such, I will still have my career to go to. I will be someone important. I will work at the highest level in government, nationally and internationally. I see myself as a politician, as a delegate to the UN, as foreign minister, as a diplomat. I belong there, and again, I will do everything it takes to take my rightful spot.

I will make the right choices and I will follow my plan. Becoming involved, having those positions on the board of the tennis club, the MUN club, the Romanian club, my sorority will lead me there. Doing the research projects for my Poli-Sci 199, my quarter in Washington will get me there. Getting a job will help me on my way. Interning during the quarter in Washington and during the summer will do its part. Being trained in public speaking, in making friends and acquaintances, in putting myself out there will become the foundation of my highway towards those upper levels.

Yes, I now have another set goal, the devised plan to get there and the motivation to embark on another journey. Until I graduate or make the team, I will still have my personal side quest, tennis, that I am all in for. I am in no way giving up on that there or not even putting it on hold. I am officially making it a well guarded secret so I can work on it without pressure or distractions. The goal is to maintain and slowly raise my level of consistency, confidence and experience until I will allow myself to fully dedicate my time to it. Even if this means the next 2 years and a half. I have the patience and the determination to pursue something like this. Becomes it will make me feel special and it will provide me with the incentive necessary to put in the hours that I will have to put in. And those are long hours that await me. Hitting with people, running in the mornings and going to the gym, all as side-notes to doing homework, preparing my lessons, doing the research and becoming as involved in extracurriculars such as a job, a club and my sorority.

I realise it is a lot, but this is exactly what I need. Give me a free day ahead, I will accomplish nothing for all those 24 hours and feel disappointed. Provide me with an impossibly challenging schedule for the day that awaits me, I will get everything done and feel empowered. This is me, and I embrace it. I rejoice in being so.

 I am taking a stance.

 I am back.

And this time, I am neither stopping nor slowing down.

US College workload and course-work from an international perspective (Day 2 of NaBloPoMo)

I know this shows that i posted twice 2 today, but it’s just because i changed the time zone of my blog. I’m still going through the challenge of posting every day this month.

This is probably one of the most approached topics when being questioned about my experience at UCLA as an international student. How difficult is the school work? Is language a problem?

And, as vague or as cliché this may sound, what I have learned over the past 3 months in the US is that college is indeed what you make of it.

To begin with, in a short answer that I know many are looking for: No. College coursework is not this incredibly difficult, unachievable task. And I’m not even talking about barely passing; I am talking about getting good grades. On the other hand, it is definitely not an easy endeavour and you can always chose how hard or easy you want it to be, which is probably the appeal of a us college in which there is no fix curricula.

What do I mean by this possibility of making it as difficult or as easy as you want?

There are several aspects to it.

Firstly, and probably the most striking difference to the university system back in Europe, is the fact that you can and sometimes even must take courses from across different fields. Some of you may not know, but European universities are specialised, meaning you apply directly after highschool to medschool, to law school, to architecture school, to engineering school, to political science university, to psychology university, etc. You usually have an exam related to the subject and the coursework you will have to do in order to graduate is fixed. Should you decide to switch your career after a year you usually have to start all over at a different university compared to simply switching a major in the US. This liberty that the US college system gives you is empowering and liberating as you can explore different fields without pressure to pursue them and even get a minor in a secondary passion of yours. On the other hand it is definitely tempting and easy to choose only the easy classes, especially for the General Education requirements most colleges have. This is the first aspect in which college education is what you make of it. Challenge yourself and choose your classes based on your interests and passions or go with the flow, and choose the ones that are known to have indulgent teachers, nice TA’s and easy finals.