When little Laura grows up...

Anyone that knows me, knows that I am the official Jane-Of-All-Trades (subtitle: Master-Of-Nothing).

When I was in high school my parents had me take an aptitude test to see where my future career interest lied. After a few weeks the test came back… Inconclusive… It seems that while I liked a vast number of things moderately, I didn’t show a strong aptitude for........

A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G.

I think the closest I came to “Moderate to High Interest” was being a paralegal; I get that they’re necessary to make the world go round, but the thought of having my nose buried in mounds of paperwork makes inseminating cows sound more appealing (which ironically enough I happened to show slight interest in).

Just for a historical background, I’m going to list a few of the more memorable (context: humiliating, embarrassing, ridiculous) jobs that I have had in my life:

-Soccer Referee

-Sears Hardware Cashier

-Hollister Clothes Folder (1 day)

-Lifeguard, the foundation that led to…

-Swim Coach

-Country Club Beverage Cart Girl

-Coldstone Creamery Ice cream Scooper/Singer for .25 cent tips

-Babysitter/Nanny

-A short stint as a Waitress, where I actually ate off peoples plates before serving them… (2 weeks)

-IU Memorial Union Hotel Front Desk Attendant

-Jagermeister Promotional “Model” what a title…

-Bartender (thank you for two trips to Europe!)

-UPS Account Manager

-Budweiser Merchandiser

-English Teacher

-Market Analysist

-Marketing Intern (Indiana Pacers)

-Project Manager (more data entry less management)

Now this is the shortened list; there are definitely a few that I’m forgetting and unfortunately I’m without my W-2s to paint you the exact scene, but I believe you get the point. I’ve never flipped burgers at McDonalds, but by looking at this list, I wouldn’t put it past me.

If there’s a random job, I’ve inevitability done it or am going to do it. I’m what you’d consider a flaky employee. Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoy working (ie spending money) and at one point in my life was extremely worried about becoming a workaholic. Thankfully I snapped out of that phase of my life. I’m just saying that you probably shouldn’t count on me being around for the long haul, giving 110%, going the extra mile, etc... that is, unless one day I get paid to do absolutely nothing, at which point I’ll totally rock.

Now I’m at that point where I want to get into my career, or more so, I’m succumbing to social norms that dictate that I should be getting into my career. Yet even at 25 years old, I still don’t know what it is that I want to do. When I was a kid I would always say I wanted to either be a brain surgeon or an actress. Since neither of those lucrative careers panned out, I’ve gotta get back to the drawing board.

I recently started a 9-5 with a company who will be sponsoring my visa, giving me great benefits, nice vacation perks, etc etc. And you know what?? After a week and a half of working, it just now hit me… I HATE WORKING A 9-5!! I’m just no good at it. When 1:00 creeps around, right after you’ve had a bite to eat, you know what I want to be doing??? Sleeping. Not mind-numbingly entering data into spreadsheets. Not sitting in a high rise watching the world go by. Not backing up and archiving past projects. Just blissfully sleeping, maybe even in the park after reading a few chapters of my latest Spanish love story.

And so I’m stuck. I’ve had great positions in the past, but none of them have screamed, “STAY IN THIS POSITION FOR THE REST OF YOUR WORKING LIFE!” I haven’t had my ¡Ahaa! moment that’s magically defined what I want to do. I’ve always been envious of people who have always known what they want to do. Take my sister for example; when she was a kid, she always knew that she wanted to be teacher. And you know what? She is a elementary school teacher, achieving her goals, and gettin stuff done... Why can’t I be like that?

I’m sure you’re all sitting on the edge of your seats waiting for my witty antidote as to what all this means, where I’m going, what I’m doing, etc. Well, unfortunately I’m just as clueless as the rest of you about what to do, where to work, live, or *gulp* settle down… And I really don't think any of those drawn out cliches like, "if at first you don't succeed, try, try again," or "the right job will find you," will help me put highlights in my hair and new dresses on my hips.

I guess while I’m waiting to figure out the rest, I’ll cross my fingers for an Erin Brockovitch-esque moment in my life where a fabulous job magically falls in my lap (note to self: buy great push up bra to speed up this process). Until then I’ll be waking up like the rest of the sorry saps who trudge to their futile jobs daily, living each and every day for Happy Hours and long weekends…

Side note: Thank god I live in Argentina where we have a long weekend once every month… How you like them apples huh??!?

Oops.. Mrs. Jones Did it Again

Ahh classic soul music… If ever there was a man who could drop panties, it would unquestionably be a chocolate lover with the voice of silk. Classic soul is unequivocally some of the best and most timeless music to use while setting the mood and relieving “stress,” ergo this music has transcended time from generation to generation, or better yet, from bedroom to bedroom.

You may have never heard of a one-hit wonder, Billy Paul, but I’m sure you can all relate to his story. Let me explain…

Among my ever-growing list of favorite songs is “Mrs. Jones.” A classic story about lust, infidelity, and lies, but in a way that even the nicest girl wants to become a sultry mistress, sneaking around with her naughty boy-toy. Mrs. Jones knows that what she’s doing is wrong, but isn’t that part of the attraction? The intricate web of tiptoeing between relationships becomes a drug that the couple needs daily, while always thinking in the back of their minds about the delicate balance between their carnal desires, and the caution they must acknowledge with every move.

“Ignorance is Bliss? Or Naïveté is Murder?”

Mrs. Jones was well aware of what she was intentionally doing, she knew it was wrong, but she proceeded anyway for the trill and excitement of the chase. Her and her lover would meet daily for their trysts, the same time, the same café, very oh-so-taboo.

But what if Mrs. Jones didn’t realize she was Mrs. Jones? What if she thought she was just plain-old-Mrs-Smith?

One rule of thumb that I have yet to master in Argentina is the direct question of, “So, do you have a girlfriend?” I guess it’s very Gringa of me to assume that when you’re spending time with a guy that obviously means that he is in the same boat at me, single and loving it.

Man was I wrong.

Unbeknownst me, I have become the insatiable Mrs. Jones… Twice… Now, you may be thinking to yourself, “ah well, she’s not completely innocent in all of this,” but you’re wrong. To say that I was duped doesn’t even do the situation justice.

Example A: after 2ish months of spending time with a wonderful guy, talking, grabbing drinks, etc, we got into a conversation about relationships, big mistake. He began talking about how he loves all types of women (typical argentine), and how it’s great that he can be in an open relationship, spending time with whomever he wants. HA HA… Wow, speechless (not an easy feat for me)... The fire lit under my ass that night could have sent a 500 lb smoker sprinting for the door and a stiff drink.

Almost 5 months later, my friend is back on the market, and calling me often. Despite his ahem… affinity for hmmm multiple girl{friends} he’s still a great guy. I mean, not marriage material or anything, but a great guy nonetheless. And as Nana says, it’s always good to have a fella to call to grab a drink. Advice taken!

Example B: Yes, I know that I’m going to get in trouble for this one, and part of me will regret it, but f*ck it, I’m young, impulsive, and telling the truth. I walked into my apartment about a 3 months(ish) ago to find a group of my roommates friends all sitting around playing playstation (yes, these are grown men), and was introduced to a friend of a friend of a friend of a cousin of a soccer teammate, etc (you get the gist).

He, like all argentine men, was extremely charming and a sight for sore eyes; despite his inability to speak English, we were able to talk, flirt, whatever you wanna call it. While we were able to communicate, there are certain fundamental cultural points that I’m still unable to wrap my head around. Like say for example, if you kiss a girl, and then taking her out on multiple dates, that is a signal of being single… Wait, “IN AMERICA, (typically) IF YOU TAKE A GIRL OUT ON A DATE, IT IS BECAUSE YOU ARE SINGLE.” Obviously there are always the exceptions, but for me, this has always been my experience.

A week after we meet, we ended up going out of town to get away from the hustle and bustle of Buenos Aires. About 100k’s outside the city, I had a bomb dropped on me. “Lau, I kind of still have a girlfriend, and we live together.”

“SON OF A BIIIIIIIIIIITCH!”

***The resolution of this story will eventually come out in my book. So until then, for those of you fortunate enough to have read it, you know how it turned out. For those who haven't... Well, just wait for the paperback!*****

When will argentines learn that they can’t have their cake and eat it too? And believe me, that saying really doesn’t culturally translate over. I think I’ve tried 101 ways to express it and I always turn up short.

So its back to the drawing board, and hopefully the closet, to hang up my boots as Mrs. Jones. I’m more of a Havaianas kinda gal anyways.