A New Direction

This fall, I transfered to UC Irvine as a history major. After spending what felt like an eternity in the community college system, I felt excited about taking on a new challenge at the next level. For a variety of different reasons however, I wasn't entirely prepared for transition from the semester system of a community college (16 weeks) to the quarter system of a UC (10 weeks). It seems as though they should have classes about transferring to a 4 year university that are mandatory instead of just being optional.

My first quarter hit me hard. I didn't take the time to entirely understand what was required of my major going in. All I wanted to do was get out of community college and finish the two years required for my bachelor's degree. But I hit a major roadblock as I was enrolling in my first classes. That roadblock of course, was the school's foreign language requirement, and in my case that meant Spanish. While I was working my way through community college, I was under the impression that all I needed was one foreign language course to satisfy the requirements of my new institution. (Looking back, I definitely should have clarified the requirements in advance) Needless to say I was shocked when UCI informed me that I needed to complete an additional 5 quarters (6 quarters is what's needed to graduate) of language. I had gotten through Spanish 1 with ease, but hadn't absorbed much in the process. Faced with the tall task of completing 5 quarters of foreign language, I enrolled in Spanish 1B, hoping I remembered enough of Spanish 1 to get me through. (Spanish 1 at the community college is equivalent to Spanish 1A at the UC). Sadly, I struggled from the outset. Between working 3-4 days a week, reading a great deal for my history courses and the rigors of learning a language, I realized a change was needed. I felt as though language just wasn't for me and I was beginning to realize that I didn't have a direction with my major either.

...A little background on why I chose to become a history major in the first place...

I had spent 6 years at community college and realized that it was time to start taking my education seriously. Having been undeclared for my entire college career thus far, I knew it was time to pick a major so that I could follow a path to transferring. History was the only class I had enjoyed and let's face it...I really loved historically fictional movies. This, I thought, was a no brainer. What I didn't know, was what I intended to use the major for after graduation. (The most common question I have been asked, "So, do you want to be a teacher?" My response, "I don't know.")

Flash back to about week 6 of the fall quarter at UCI. I realized that language just wasn't going to work for me. As I would read my Spanish book I kept thinking, "this looks so foreign to me!" (which of course, it is!). It's as though my brain just didn't want to cooperate. I had toyed with the idea of changing my major to political science since the first week of the quarter. I had actually met a student in one of my history classes who was also struggling with the language requirement and thinking about changing his major to political science as well. After several failed attempts at meeting with a counselor in the Social Sciences department, I finally secured a walk-in appointment. I explained my situation to the counselor and my desire to transfer to the political science major. My counselor quickly outlined the requirements for the political science major, reminded me that I was only 3 upper division classes away from a history minor and informed me that I would need 1 year of math, but no language to complete my degree. This was music to my ears (even though there was math involved, I found it to be the lesser of two evils). Having already switched to the grading option, "pass/no pass" during the second week of the quarter, I realized that I no longer needed to stress about passing Spanish and could now focus on doing well in my history courses. Two days later, I met with my Spanish professor and informed him I would not be returning to class and would be focusing on the remaining classes I needed to complete. (He was already aware of my situation and was understanding)

Sitting in the counselor's office, I felt as though things were starting to make sense. Something felt right, more focused about this decision to change my major. Coming in as a history major, I had no idea what path I wanted to take, or what avenues I could explore with it. I know that I've said that I was excited in the past, but now I feel as though I believe it even more. For the winter quarter I'm taking an introductory course on Law. I'm looking forward to taking a course on International Relations in the Spring. (Something I think could compliment my love for travel) The pieces to the puzzle may not yet be complete, but I'm happy with this new direction and I look forward to where it takes me.

Did you ever?

Did you ever have a dream that didn't come true?
Did you ever think you would be somewhere else in your life then where you are now?

That's where I am now. I know that sometimes I get in these so called "ruts" and I dig myself out and move on. But, even though I hate harping on the same things over and over again, it's reality. I'm 27, I live at home, I make minimum wage most nights, I've been single for three years running and I won't even get into some of the negative aspects that go along with that. My excitement over going to UCI and getting my education has been severely dampened this, my first quarter. I'm terrible at Spanish, lost in Monsters and Borders and loving Colonial America. The more troubling aspect is not the lack of understanding certain classes, but the fact that I'm seriously disappointed in my effort level this quarter. I'll admit, the transition has been a tough one (see my previous blog entry) but part of me still acts like this is community college. You know, where you can ease into the sixteen week semester, skip reading assignments and still get A's on everything. I feel about as smart as I did in high school now. Everything about this quarter feels like community college. I go to school, I go home. I don't have the time to get involved in school activities or they seem to fall on days where I have to work. In fact the only thing not like community college at this point are my grades. I was so proud of the fact that I hadn't skipped out on any classes for two solid years, while I worked to get myself up and out of the hole I had dug myself into when I began community college. Now, this quarter, I've thrown it all away. I've missed classes, recently due to illness (which I hate) and also because I'm just so frustrated with everything.

Most people have a plan, right? They have a general idea (salute) of what they want to do with their lives. And even if they don't, they fake it and do something productive to pass the time and pay the bills. I remember in high school, people always assured me that I was young and that I had plenty of time to figure out what I was going to make of my life. Granted, I'm not old by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm also not a young kid anymore. I have to figure this out now and look at the bigger picture. I can't make minimum wage for the rest of my life or I will never reach any of the goals or dreams that I had when I was a little kid. The other day, a friend pointed out to me, as we discussed where are lives were currently at, "welcome to life, it's not always where you thought it might be". I guess that's the adventure...figuring out what you can do as an individual to get yourself to where you want to be.

Maybe I'll never be famous (some might argue, I'm more likely to be infamous, thanks friends). In sixth grade, I wanted to be an NBA player. Then reality set in. I'm a shade under six feet tall, Caucasian and not very skilled. Time to form a new plan. Time to actually put the work in to get where I want to be. I had this crazy idea that I could watch as much TV as I wanted, continue to do things the same way I always did and I would magically be able to succeed in school and life. Funny thing is, that's not working. Things aren't going to get accomplished for me, are they? I know that I can't be a hermit crab like one of my friends and completely seclude myself for two years and drop off the grid. But I also know I can't continue going the way I'm going. It's simply not going to work. I'm the only one who can change my outcome and win, lose or draw, it's about time I start trying.

Happy 11th Birthday Angel

When I brought you home eleven years ago I'll admit that I thought you loved Sonja more than me. And aside from me, you've spent the majority of your life surrounded by three women. You were calm and quiet at the pet store and I was convinced that you were the mellow one compared to that rambunctious golden retriever. In the beginning, I was just a teenager that wanted a dog, but didn't understand the responsibility that went into having one. Yet, you were always a great dog and it's my fault you were never trained to maximize your full Labrador potential. But you've never ceased to be awesome after all these years and you've continuously stayed energetic even after a few scary moments with the seizures. I love you very much and I hope that these last several years I've done a better job as an owner to you. Happy Birthday Angel, let's go for a walk!

Frustrations

I'll admit, I never assumed that the move from junior college to the university was going to be an easy one. Yet, I think I was equally unprepared for what I've encountered so far. At this point, I'm 5 weeks in to the quarter (just over halfway through) and here's where I stand: floundering completely in one class, treading water in another and doing reasonably well in the final class (pending a midterm exam next week). Now, I know that a great deal of the challenges I'm experiencing tie in to my love for other things more than I love school. And I hate being in this position, even if it is self induced. I hate failing or not doing my best in any situation. But after the past the past two years at junior college, I stopped looking at myself as a person who just wasn't the right fit for school and started believing that I was capable of success. Five weeks into the quarter here and I almost feel as though I've completed a 180. I'm struggling with a foreign language and even with a history class that feels like it's being taught in another language. Is it just the case of a rough semester and a rough transition period? Am I in over my head? Or can I adjust and pull another rabbit out of the hat in the next four weeks? I guess it all remains to be seen.

Cloudy Days

Cloudy days remind me: of pea-coats, the 7C bus in Oxford, punting, early mornings at the airport, getting lost in Dublin, Paris, Amsterdam, quiet bus rides in Wales, field trips to London, Sandra's hangover curing packed lunches, snooker, neighborhood pub game nights, friends.

Nostalgia

I'm almost constantly affected by nostalgia, specifically from my European adventure in '09. At times I feel as though I talk about it too much and that maybe I should tone it down a bit. Other moments, it's as if I don't keep it at the forefront of my memory it will disappear completely. I take an immense amount of joy in reminiscing over such an important part of my life. The trip took a lot of effort, an unbelievable amount of money but also paid off more than I can ever imagine.

For me, nostalgia comes in different forms and from different places. Over the past weekend I ran into my Oxford classmate Jade at Dave and Busters in Irvine. I remember reading that she was going to be in town, but completely forgot that it was going to be this past weekend. My mind immediately flashed back to steak dinners in London, late nights in York and incredibly long bus rides. I couldn't have been more excited. Just yesterday, I turned on the television as I was getting ready for work and eating lunch. I thoroughly enjoy Samantha Brown (she has the best job in the world) and she happened to be visiting the English countryside, beginning in Bath. Immediately I was transported back to my brief time in Bath. As I watched her sample the spring water (which is hot) I knew her reaction would be the same as mine (it tastes awful!)

On a walk today, I realized that for new good reason I had been postponing writing a letter to my home-stay mom from Oxford. I know that I've been busy but things will only get busier when school starts next week and I know how much I want to keep in touch. I realize that sometimes, just the little things, make the memory burn so bright.

And although I plan to return to Europe after I graduate from UC Irvine in two years, I know that the new memories I make there will never compare to ones I made as a member of Saddleback's '09 Oxford class. No matter what, I will always miss and remember fondly the time I shared with every person from that trip.

An Ode to a Disappearing Generation

Working in the hospitality industry, I have had the fortune and misfortune of coming across a wide variety of people. Often times, we have no idea what goes on in a person's life. Are they rich or poor? Happy or sad? And today, when they enter our place of business, what has brought them to us and why are they in an agreeable or disagreeable mood? Each day, in different ways, we all strive to connect with our guests to make their time spent away from home a more enjoyable one.

As a bellman, we have the opportunity to engage in short conversations with our guests. How was your day? What's the weather like back home? What brings you to our hotel? Any plans for your stay? Yet after all the pleasantries pass, the guest judges us based on our level of service and we judge them on the amount of their tip. Though it may seem superficial, the reality is that as bellman, we live off of the tips we earn and we work hard to achieve them. A former bellman once showed me a web page entitled, "The Original Tipping Page" with an article on how to "correctly tip a bellman." After showing the page to several of my cohorts, we each agreed that it was for all intensive purposes, accurate. But who best represents this model? My generation? My parents generation? My grandparents generation?

This year and more specifically, this past week, I have come into contact with several members of the "older" generation. These are the people whom we call "grandpa" and "grandma". Most times, they are set in their ways and can be hard to reason with. But they also can tell some pretty fantastic stories and they understand the value of hard work. More importantly though, they understand the value of paying for hard work. I'm the first to admit that I love when the "older" generation comes in to my hotel. I don't have to fight them for bell carts (like I do with the 30 somethings and their soccer groups) and I don't have to worry about getting quarters or a $1 bill. This is the generation the consistently gives $5s, $10s and for the fortunate few, the coveted $20s. They are appreciative and understanding and never in a hurry. In short, they are the perfect guests. The kind everyone fights over, wants to assist and will go out of their way for.

But as this generation disappears and our parents become the new grandparents and we start to become parents...will this understanding and appreciation of the hard working bellman still exist? Or will we be overrun with families pushing us out of the way to take our carts, load their own luggage and save a few bucks? My advice? Follow the lead of the "older" generation. Shell out a few bucks, sit back and relax and let the professionals do their job. =)

Anatomy of a Rivalry

Rivalries, particularly in sports, are typically a hotly contested, deeply passionate and long standing conflict between two or more teams (and often, their fans). Baseball has its rivalries in the Yankees and Red Sox and the Giants and Dodgers. While in basketball we have the Lakers and the Celtics. But what fuels a rivalry? Are we just born with a competitive fire or is it accumulated through our experiences and those around us?

I grew up watching the Lakers and sadly, the Dodgers. I can vividly recall sitting in the den at my grandparent's house in Pasadena while the Lakers played and Chick Hearn announced the games. To say that I was born a Lakers fan would not be far from the truth. However, being raised by a single mom, who is far from the avid sports enthusiast, I developed a competitive nature on my own. I always want to win, no matter what my role is in the sport I'm playing or the sport I'm watching. Though it is perhaps unreasonable to expect your team to win each year, how can we as sports fans think any other way? How can we not demand excellence? I simply despise losing and I sometimes wonder how highly paid athletes seem to accept and tolerate mediocrity. When someone beats me, I challenge myself to take my effort up to the next level and if I'm going to lose, they are going to work for it.

Perhaps there are more eloquent ways to describe it, but without a great deal of sugarcoating, I simply dislike certain teams. That's what a rivalry is all about, passion. So to the Boston Celtics, Boston Red Sox, San Diego Chargers, Los Angels Dodgers, New England Patriots, Oakland Raiders, Phoenix Suns, Sacramento Kings, San Antonio Spurs and Denver Broncos I don't like you, never have and never will. Rivalries never die!

Wedding Season

Over the weekend, I attended what I anticipate, as being the first of four weddings this year. A beautifully set wedding in sunny Huntington Beach, at a temperature most conducive to an enjoyable ceremony. While I watched the happy couple move forward to the next stage of their lives, I couldn't help but reflect on my own life and the goals I had once set.

Many years ago, I had envisioned myself being married at twenty-seven and looked forward to the prospect of children. For some reason, twenty-seven seemed like a reasonable age to get married. Not too young and not too old, it appeared to be the perfect time. However as a child, I had no way of understanding the self inflicted barriers I would place upon myself. I spent the early part of my twenties in a long relationship and my friends always believed that I would be the first of our group to be married. Certainly, I would be the last person to refute those claims. But as my relationship began to fall apart, I sought to refocus my life on education. I planned to ensure that when I did find the right person, I would have a future to look forward to.

For the first time in my life, I find myself as the best man at my best friend's wedding. This is an exciting and challenging new role for me and I am honored to have been chosen for the role. It is my hope that this experience is a memorable one and that I too, can be fortunate enough to follow down that same path. And although I'm not the first in our group of friends to tie the knot, I couldn't be happier for my friend.

Last night I watched a movie entitled, The Holiday with Kate Winslet and Cameron Diaz for probably the fourth or fifth time. Though it's fairly predictable I love the film for two reasons. First, at least half of the movie is set in a small English town (after visiting England, I have a soft spot for the country). Second, there is a great scene in the movie where Cameron Diaz visits Jude Law's home, discovers he's a single dad and meets his two daughters. For anyone who has yet seen, I will say that these are perhaps the cutest little girls ever. Having always wanted at least one daughter, this movie coupled with a strong dose of wedding season, has reignited my passion to find that special someone and build towards taking my own next step.

A Boy and His Bike

These days it seems like everyone is trying to "go green" in some aspect of their life. From organic food, to recycling there are a variety of ways in which one can achieve this. However, one of the more exciting ways I have found to add more "green" to my life is through bicycling. Although it was not my initial intention to be green when I first purchased my Trek mountain bike, the desire to exercise was. I chose the Trek brand because of its well known name in the cycling world and my desire to have something a bit sturdier than my childhood Huffy. Though it had been many years since I had been on the saddle of a bicycle, I was pleasantly surprised at how easy it all came back. With a little time and perseverance, anything is possible.

To date, my bike has been nothing short of exceptional, though I have not consistently taken it off road to fill its true potential. For a mountain bike it has performed remarkably well on the streets where I spend most of my riding time. Together we've journeyed through Peter's Canyon, Weir Canyon, Newport Beach, Balboa Island and our most recent trip to Laguna Beach. On a bike I feel as though I am able to experience so much more of the nature and beautiful scenery that Orange County has to offer. Something I certainly never fully appreciated before my second time owning a bicycle. Throw in the fact that I always ride with a good friend or two and it makes the experience all the more worthwhile. I know that I won't always have the freedom to take a bike ride on a Monday during the day, but there's something rather fantastic about it and I intend to enjoy every opportunity.

Life As I See It (Getting Older)

As we approach the juncture in our lives known as the late twenties (I recently turned twenty-seven, so it depends on who you ask) the reality that we are all growing up is starting to really sink in. Gone are the days of recess, lunch breaks and more recess with evenings and summers off. Taking its place: work, bachelors degrees, graduate degrees, marriage, children and home ownership, to name a few. Questions such as, "will I have enough money for lunch today and the ice cream man after school," have been replaced by, "can I afford to buy this new home, or should we relocate?" All signs point to something that seemed so far away, growing up.

Never before has getting older been more apparent in my life than in 2010. This year, I am fortunate enough to know at least six different couples getting married, (most of them are my age) numerous couples having their first or even second child, several couples in serious relationships and a few friends getting into home ownership in the near future. Slowly, all of this change and new responsibility is beginning to creep into my own life. Although I have stayed away from the dating scene over the past few years, I find myself looking to dive in and catch up to the rest of the crowd. Yet there are so many factors to consider at this age. When we were kids, there weren't many thoughts that we went through when picking a date. Now when I look at a woman, I immediately check her ring finger, something that I never would have thought twice about just ten years ago. And it extends even further than just being married, I have to consider: "do we have similar political/religious beliefs, do we enjoy similar activities, will she be a good mother to my future children, what is her family like," and so many others.

At times, these thoughts catch me completely off guard. Has life really gotten to this point? Am I really growing up? But there's no sense in fighting the process of getting older. In fact it's not as bad as I used to imagine it to be. I could even get used to this whole "growing up" thing.