no. sleep. til...

stretch.

i don't know when. columbus day? thanksgiving? whatever. they say that these are our peak years of not needing that much sleep. you know, when you're a baby you sleep like 18 hours a day; then when you get into your 20s-on, 6 hours is all good; and then when you're 80, you're back to sleeping about 18 hours a day. something like that.

besides that, i pretty much siesta'd the whole month of august. ah, the great thing about europe: august is pretty much when euros decide, "it's hot. eh, let's take the whole month off." that's what i'm talking about. so although i convinced my boss to let me work, it was definitely leisurely. plus, i convinced le mari to be a sport and drive us over to st. paul for a long weekend with the fam. pretty good stuff.

rest stop overlooking cannes (vinny chase!)

pancake brunch.

mala beach.

dinner at mala beach.

pizza cannibal: ground steak, onion, garlic, olives, herbs & an egg.

coming up on fireworks on the sea, courtesy of a private bday party next door.

okay, earth to mjane. the end of the month is creeping and it's back to getting schooled. there's never a dull moment at work, and as if planning an overseas event isn't enough, i've decided to purge my closet and sell some of my clothing on ebay. it's actually turning out to be a pretty good hustle!

but for real though, the thought in rotation is how to be at two places at once. have i already said this? i love l.a. and now, i love barcelona. this city is off the hook. i don't know how to describe it. it's taken me so long to get to this point, and frankly i'm surprised that i've reached it. my heart, 2 cities.

cava sangria.

i have no idea who they are, but we shared tapas one night after a dc photo exhibit.

flower market.

gran via.

barceloneta.

entrance to the "semana de méxico en barcelona" fiesta at pueblo español.

casa ramona at pueblo español.

a great way to kick off the festivities.

colors!

mariachis

comiendo.

kenzie and his mistress.

office daze

my office window
la pedrera, right across our showroom window
august in europe basically equals 31 days of fucking off. i'm not kidding. the post office closes at 1pm every day; consider yourself lucky if you even receive any mail. banks close come la tarde... local restaurants and shops close for the whole month. don't bust any domestic mechanisms as a plumber won't come til september... you get the picture.

but i can't complain. although i begged the boss to let me work this month, it's summer friday. meaning, every friday since the summer solstice the office closes at 2pm. and today, i'm completely alone as my esteemed colleagues go fuck off until the end of the month.

it's really funny living here. having grown up in cali, we're raised to be politically correct, not stereotype people (in public at least), blahblahblah. but here, stereotypes run wild! i've never heard so much passion behind some claims people make on others. spaniards are totally like this; of course, they're italian!; the term paki is thrown around freely; people are colors here like black and yellow... but what's really interesting is, there is never white. well, it's more like it's unknown out here. one time i tried to describe someone as, "you know, the white girl" and that was the one color no one knew who i was talking about. there are times when the n-word is thrown around me as a gesture of attempting to being down. and needless to say i've got a schpeel memorized explaining the complexities behind that term in america, so much so that i can't even spell it out in my own blog. woah, the cali girl in me winces a bit as i've been conditioned to find all of this babble charged with offense. but here, the best i can do is learn not to be uncomfy with it. observation and communication is key.

i just deleted a whole mess of instances where miscommunication here led to swinging fists or getting driven off the road because i don't want you to misunderstand my idea of europe. because really, the best anyone can do is learn through observation and dialogue. anywhere in this WORLD. god, that just sounded very cal-educated. so be it. at the end of the day, it's no sweat off my back if someone thinks i'm yellow (come on now, i'm brown!).

the thing is, i started writing this entry thinking about the negative stereotypes associated with hiphop or rap (for lack of a better term) music here - well, except in northern spots like holland or sweden. and it's kind of sad. it's hard to find a party where i can get my groove on here! the mainstream stereotype here of most drum-based music where word is spoken more than it's sung is that it's ghetto in the class-ist sense of the word. as in low-income, un-educated, and whatever else conservatively speaking. the other day i was listening to a jdilla mixed tape at work and one of my peers started mocking the song, going "yo, yo" and shit and said, "wow jane, i never thought of you as the type to listen to this." what type, exactly? eh, i just laughed.

how can i wrap this up? a few weeks ago, i was having a conversation with some friends about how americans really get the worst beating as far as stereotypes go here in europe (well actually, in america, too). and you know what, that shit is true. perfect example: kenz and i go watch the simpsons movie when it came out. the theater was packed. and everyone is laughing hysterically - it's fucking perfect, an american movie about the dumbest american alive: homer simspon. audience is laughing, laughing, laughing away. but there's one scene where the simpsons stop for gas after having escaped from the bubble. marge goes in the gas station and says something like, "i don't need lady razors, i'm european," and you hear "oohs" and hissing like that shit's offensive. i almost want to say that i was the only who laughed at that line. yeah it's so fucking funny laughing at the dumb american, but we can't say one, albeit irrelevant, euro joke. and there you have it.

"it's a celebration, bitches." !!!!!!!!!

lee-ness & mack at betty ford's
it's the team!
mamie denise, purple, & dead hippie
lucile y yo a mondo

still cookin

we're now about six weeks into summer, just enough time to settle into a steady wardrobe for this funky (leaves falling everywhere?!) season. it's all about looking light and flowy. and sexy, why not. i don't mind that everyone's still feeling the little-girl dress cuts that chloe brought back a couple of years ago, but it's getting a bit out-of-hand. some girls straight look like they're wearing a duster. you know, the kind of dresses that old ladies wear all day around their house? there's no form or shape. i guess, like muumuus? in tagalog we call them pangbahay. and i really don't get this scarf trend where i'm catching women pairing long, drabby-curtain scarves around their necks with tank tops. anyway, i'm not here to criticize anyone's sense of fashion. do your thing, but i'd have to say there are just some things you shouldn't wear in 90-degree weather. like heavy jewelry. or a lot of makeup for that matter. another thing that's not quite right is legal lohan being on the september cover of elle mag again. one of the quotes that huffingtonpost.com took from the article is: "I just want to be nominated for an award for all the work I've done. It's so funny - people forget that I played two characters in Parent Trap when I was twelve years old." okay, i'll stop there.

let's get back to not judging. i went to bread and butter in july to see if this would be the year that euro fashion surprises me. unfortunately...no. the higher-end fashion market didn't show anything mind-blowing, but at least they stayed in line with their rank by using fancy materials (cashmere and silk!) on classic cuts. one classic look i do love - and is a successful detail for a girls' night outfit - is décolletée: low-cut, sexy, yet very tasteful (no wonderbras allowed).

what else. denim is always cool. there are so many different denim brands that exist. but i love to observe jean brands because their marketing budgets seem to flow like honey.. i mean, aside from creating another wash or pocket design, jeans are jeans are jeans. so how do you compete? through branding and marketing. gap hit it in the 90s. today, it's a little harder as advertising has become more celebrity-hyped, e.g seven for all mankind, hudson. i don't know, really. but if you're in fashion marketing, denim seems like it would be a fun biz to get into.

where it really goes bad is in the younger markets. "streetwear." boy these brands are just riding this neon, all-over, bad-pucci-knock-off, ice-cream, and other hyphenated-word looks until the last dawn wiener of the world pairs a hundreds tee with yet another desperate re-issue shoe/unreasonable color-way.


"let's get back to not judging." ha ha. for real though. fashion, schmashion. it's fun. and you know i love it. it was good fun walking around, looking at people, and checking out the booths. i think i mentioned this when i wrote about going to b&b berlin, even though going to a fashion tradeshow in europe is just as typical as your asr or magic in america, a standard booth for a euro brand has to have a bar area installed in it, i.e. mini-fridge, beers & champagne. and a plus in the streetwear area is that a lot of the reps and retailers pass joints. no five-o breaking this party up.

i love

the opening scene of breakfast at tiffany's, fifth avenue at the break of dawn.

i love having the opportunity of being awake during the exact moment that the sun comes out of the ground. the color of the sky, the sound of complete silence...

real talk

i've been feeling a bit isolated lately living on the other side of the pond. i have a lot of thoughts about my life, observations about the world from over here, and just all kinds of things i'd like to talk about to anyone. but a difference in language makes it hard to just shoot the shit. you know what i mean, i feel like i'm always "on," needing to think about how i say what i want to say in a different language. it reminds me of the first time i ventured out to europe with nothing but a backpack. i traveled throughout the continent by myself (see photos) - and traveling through places that speak different languages and have different customs for the first time ever, alone (!), my journal was my only friend. and sometimes that wasn't enough to fulfill my natural desire for social contact. but as that only happened every other city meeting an english-speaking train traveler, sometimes i'd find myself talking to myself.





six years later, here i am sitting on a sofa in barcelona. e-mail, phone calls and text messages used to be the way i'd communicate how a friend and i would meet up to talk or drink or eat or chill. now e-mails and phone calls and texts have replaced the talks and chill sessions and are the only ways i keep up with the outside world.. friends.. fam..



what's hard about it is that i'm at this point where if i could be at two places at the same time, it would be now. i love living and working in barcelona. it's probably the most challenging experience i've ever decided to take on, moving here and learning all of these amazing lessons.. it's like my grad school, you know what i mean? unfortunately 99% of my support system resides in the states, and i'd give anything to have a face-to-face with them during the times i just need to re-connect, re-energize and bounce back. anyway, i guess the distance between loved ones and me is a big part of the reason why this experience is so challenging. if living here is like going to grad school, for any of you that are in or have graduated from grad school, imagine going to one out-of-state. with your best friend or spouse. and the two of you are taking all of the same classes and are partnered-up for every single group project. and you work at the same internship together. and of course, you are each other's roommates. okay, this is definitely the most challenging chapter of my life experience.



can i put this on a resume? ha ha.

the longest day

here we are, another summer solstice. it's 9:30pm and the sun is barely setting. and the summer begins.


caixa forum.

sugared strawberries.

castelldefells. cloudy. happy.

l.a. blurrr. blurrr.

bloo blee blah

this little girl is funny. like she would be able to translate the title of this entry. she totally gets it. l'il mizz q. come to think of it, this photo was taken at max's in glendale on a monday afternoon, and it represents a mere second of what this girl does on the regular. this was happening during dinner with lola and ate. no it's not code.

oh, another time my sister and i went to her school to watch all these kids participate in a trike-a-thon. very cute. little kids living the good life. ah, and just like that, the sun comes out again. you know what i'm feeling right now is entourage. mia, i'm fucking hooked. i don't know what it is, but they got me. i'm into it.





oh man, i can't believe i was in downtown the same day as the great american boycott. gerlie had warned me about the possibility of mad traffic going on that day. tuesday, may 1st. i mean, we were prepared with maps and a color-coded system projecting what would happen in such and such case. anyway, i headed out of toluca lake around 11am and got to fairfax and 3rd by 11:15. no traffic, the streets were empty. i had an hour to kill so i decided to just drive around and scope some landmarks. downtown is beautiful. so i'm driving, and head into the jewelry district.. finally saw some people walking with flags. but the streets are still open. i turn right on grand and bam, a whole mess of people just closing the streets as they walked. i followed them as long as i could then finally turned right off some number street. without thinking i ended up in front of fidm, parked and checked out the student boutique. if that is not so l.a. i don't know what iz. you know what i'm talking about. and that was just the beginning of a typical day. then i went to the union bank bldg, picked gerlie up and headed to a really good pizza spot in echo park called masa. blahblahblah got out of downtown just as they were shutting exits down. lapd got gnarly. then it goes on and on, like being in santa monica later that afternoon and getting a nano for kenz. such an l.a. day.



another typical day. all of my dope friends get together and basically go to different places to take photos of each other. and dance. and smoke. drank.

"don't talk about it. be about it."

you know, i could really get used to living abroad if i can keep up the traveling back home every few months. being home in december for xmas and then again just last week feels really good. like ate said, "back so soon! it's like you live in san francisco." and then there's barça - i think it helps that mack and i moved into our new apartment. it's new, clean, and it has a garage spot for our car. truth be told, i had no idea how essential having a car garage was to leading a happier life. it makes a huge difference. huge.

some thoughts. people can get pretty confrontational in l.a. but in barcelona, it's the complete opposite. and sometimes i catch myself getting a bit annoyed, say, when someone bumps into me getting into the metro and they don't even look at me to say "perdona" or "lo siento." whereas, while in l.a. it could get a bit tiring making sure to be polite, recognize the person you accidentally bumped into or whatever, and say "excuse me," because if you don't, people get totally pissed off and call you out on how inconsiderate or uncompassionate you were being. can i get a "shame on you?" exactly.

what i'm trying to tell myself is: fuck the bullshit. there's more to life than these little thought-out or not-thought-out things. who the fuck cares? as long as i'm breathing, walking, seeing, hearing, i'm good.

& it goes a little something like this.

there are no need for words any more. we all know who's got to go.
Originally uploaded by mjane.

i received a pretty big blow to my career-oriented ego today. just as i was getting comfy with the idea of making this surf company a force to be reckoned with in barcelona - fuck it - europe, i'd been brought back to the front desk with only a possible future in warehouse operations in sight. ouch. the idea that my spanish-language skills would extend only to the savviest of DHL or FedEx drivers hit me where it hurts.

oh buddy, this is where the old "grass is greener" saying comes into play again. and it sure can fuck a girl up thinking about where that grass grows. am i a masochist? because the reality is, it grows wherever the fuck you're not. i usually realize this midway through my greener-grass daydreaming, and like clockwork, go into the next time-old saying, something about having the "best of both worlds." why not?, i wonder. and as yet another saying goes, "you can't have your cake and eat it too." still, i can't help but wonder, why not?

perhaps those two little words make up a saying of its own.