"Hardships" of Being Home

Maybe I've been watching too much Girls and really just want to be Lena Dunham, or maybe because reading 50 Shades of Grey convinces me anyone can write as long as they talk about weird enough stuff... Long story short, I decided I was in the mood to blog once again.

I've been considering writing a post for a while, but I didn't know where to place the post. I felt that writing about the mundane hilarity of being home was too... NOT COOL ENOUGH for the "globe trotting blog" and I felt as though the Jambo NUC was a little too high school after reliving some of the posts at a barbeque. I apologize for mocking the La Canada experience so publicly on my blog. Actually, sorry I'm not sorry. I'm a Altadena girl/ NEW YORKER/ global citizen now BITCHES. HAHA. I'm sooooo pretentious. 

So, here I am, tacky giraffe print and url still the same. Oh well, jambs. Even I thought it would be too ANNOYING to have three blogs.

HERE I AM, AT HOME.

Which after my year abroad, is pretty weird. I find myself having the same conversation every time I go out. I am REALLY flattered that everyone looked at my facebook pictures and is interested in my travels. Its almost overwhelming when random people tell me they've been stalking me all year... Like, HELLO, I didn't wear make up in any of my photos and wore hippie pants in various prints. By the way, if you've seen those pants, Indian/Cambodian people (where I purchased the pants) don't actually wear them. Its the white tourists that rock them so they can feel more... down to earth. Enough about the pants though. The worst questions I get are:

"What was your favorite place?"
I don't even KNOW where to start with that one. I usually say India because it was the most mind boggling, and I admit to disliking China. But what was my favorite place? I don't think I'll ever know. Every place I went was an expansion of thought, of deep reflection, of something new and exciting. Its not like asking oh, whats your favorite color or ice cream flavor (btw, purple and cake batter from coldstones).

The other really bad kicker is the "Tell me a story". When people say that I want to say, once upon a time there was a man who stumbled upon a tribe of native American peoples. He befriended a wolf named two socks and saw some weird stuff happen to a woman in the tribe. He became friends with the leader and had an odd and enriching life. Later, this story was made into a movie with Kevin Costner....
I'm not sure what that the "story question" even means! A STORY? And by the way, I was referring to the story of Dances With Wolves if anyone missed the reference. Reoccurring theme of that book: Rebirth. 8th grade lit for the win. For the record,  my best stories from my trip involve poop, and no one wants to hear about explosive diarrhea between games of BP. 

The worst part about being back though, is having a job. Its hard because three months ago I was shadowing a caretaker in a township in South Africa, meeting people with the most interesting stories, listening, learning, cleaning bed wounds of the sick and helping to distribute medicine, discussing the social causes of disease and the problems with patenting medicine. Now, I'm a Swim Instructor. I decided just like college majors (which I shall design my own and make an incredibly lengthy title for at NYU's Gallatin's School of Individualized Study) the longer your job title is, the cooler and more enjoyable of a job it really is. Swim Instructor buys me two words, which I guess is a step above Janitor (which really could be called Maintenance Personnel and then I'd be tied)...

I can't decide if it is any job I'd struggle to find joy in, or if its just the two word one I have now that is painful. Gold Digger is also two words, so I figure worse comes to worse, it can't be anymore painful gold digging than teaching swim ;).  I teach parent infant classes, which is cool, except I have to sing, which I don't do well. And hello, my ego is out of control, I have to do everything well. It really blows though because I have to shout to have my class of 48, 24 parents (actually sometimes more like 35 parents because parents don't get that its really crowded and the class says parent infant not mom, dad, aunt, and grandma and infant) and 24 infants which leaves me with a voice of a chain-smoker of thirty years by the time I'm done on Saturday. I also teach preschool 1, also known as "the class for kids who have never swum before in their lives and are terrified of the water and have parents that think the best technique is to shove them into the instructors arms and assume the instructor can hold their one hysterical shrieking kid the entire class time and coo to them even though the instructor can't because she has four other kids waiting on the step yelling that they are bored".  Oh, and that is if the other kids bother to stay on the step. Kids this age, ages 3/4 either think they are invincible and know how to swim and jump off the steps and nearly drown every five minutes or are watching the kids nearly drown and are afraid its going to be them and don't move at all. Oh, and everyone, fearless or not, kicks and scratches.... and occasionally grabs nipples as knobs of support.

Enough about nipples.

Being home though, does have its novelties. Like In and Out, the HBO I recently begged my mom for so I could watch Girls (once again Lena Dunham=life), facebook, and of course my bitchberry. Its hard to believe that just a few months ago I was easily satisfied with four crappy nokia phones split between 11, and now I can barely stand my bitchberry because it doesn't have instagram. Luckily, spoiled little me has an iPod touch and can still be part of the instagram community. Except my instagram isn't epic because I never even HAVE my iPOD touch with me. Gah. White Girl Problems. Don't judge me.

Now, if you'll excuse me, since I'm sitting at home, I'm going to try and instagram a great picture of my tan lines, courtesy of my two-word job.

The End of the Beginning.

It is true. This is the last blog posting that will be on the Jambo Nuc. 

FIRST OF ALL, 
THANK YOU TO... 

All my friends who read my blog and gave me feedback when I was insecure. 

Everyone who ever mentioned the blog to me whether in a speech, a casual conversation in the bathrooms at LCHS, at a party, etc. I honestly probably would have never completed more than one post if people hadn't been so AWESOME and gave me such great encouragement. 

My Momma, for keeping the blog bookmarked. 

Everyone who has ever read the jambo nuc. 

This blog began as a little endeavor to fufill some long hours second semester senior year. However, the JN gave me so much more than another space and webadress to squander away time when I should have been doing homework, among other productive things. It helped facilitate a new voice for me, the one that was always running through my head, the quirky and sarcastic weirdo I am got to be showcased through this little blog. 

Right now, as I write, I feel like I'm taking myself so seriously. Like this blog wasn't all that important. The thing is, it probably wasn't to most people. Maybe some heard of it, some occasionally read it, but the thing is... IT WAS IMPORTANT TO ME. 

Every piece of writing I've done, has gradually led me to grow a bit more each time as a person, as a writer, as someone trying to experience the most out of life. 

As silly as it seems, this blog, among other systems of support and spontaneity, gave me the courage to dare to be different. To do something not many dare to do. 

No, I am not talking about skydiving or dancing on the bar at grad night (not once, but twice, and falling both times...) Right. My Mom still reads this.... 

Of course, I discussing the journey I embark on in essentially three days. I have my final lazy, crusty sunday tomorrow. My last start of a new week, with a new to-do list monday... and my last tuesday (nothing ever special really happens on tuesdays anymore... I guess tacos... but I'm not risking any mexican food mishaps with regards to the stomach considering the flights i'm taking wednesday)... and then I'm off. 

I've started a new blog. 
Not because the JN isn't great, but the fact of the matter is, the JN is home. 
And I, Lizzie Jambo Miller, am finally leaving home. 

Just as I leave the bed I spend countless hours in... The DVR which has recorded my greys, my criminal minds, my law and order SVU, lost (when it was on), glee, etc.... My home, my family, my friends, my dog (which I have come to learn to love. I am going to go on a huge tangent right now about my dog. so skip to the end of the parenthetical device if you aren't down to read. A few months/blog posts ago, I said I didn't like my dog. My dog is the SHIT. the cats pjs. the bees knees. the coolest animal ever. She's freaking chill. And I really never gave her the credit she deserved. Once all my pals departed to college, and my mom had to start school again, as a teacher, my little sister going back as a fourth grader, and my older sisters work hours expanding exponentially... I was left to kick it with no one but my pup. Zoey, I formally apologize for dissing you over the internet. I love you pooopsieee puppy dooggie. WOW. that was freaking embarassing. Like I give one bleep, just kidding, I don't give two bleeps)

Oh right.... so I was talking about things I was leaving. Well you can fill in the rest of that list keeping in mind that I'm going to the third world... and giving up a lot of what I'm used to and have grown to place both mentally and physically in my idea of "home". 

So, the JN, the jambo nuc, the jambo nucleus, the blog of a sassy white girl with too much free time, must come to an end. 

However, nothing ever really comes to an end in my mind. It just continues in a different fashion. My creative outlet and need to ramble will not die with the last posting of this blog. 

It will however, be moved to a new location. 

www.lizziesworldtour.blogspot.com 

will be the new online location of my rambling thoughts. 

I love you all and will miss seeing your faces dearly. 
The memories I have will undoubtedly fade, BUT WILL NEVER BE FORGOTTEN. 

LCHS, LC, MONTROSE, ALTADENA, LA, CALI BITCHES... PEACE OUT. 

In another life brotha.  

Summer Keeps Getting Shorter

I've got less than three weeks left. 

Driving home last night, after my second good bye of that day and only my twentieth goodbye of this week, I realized... as we get older... our summers get shorter. 

When we are little kids, our summer goes on FOREVER. Its the time between the last day of school, and the first day of the next year. 

In high school, our summer gets shortened a little bit, by the plague of summer assignments and a return to school mandated by registration. 

But by the time you graduate and are waiting to move on to the next, your summer really gets quite short. August is no longer a month of vacation and idleness.... its a time of and for goodbyes... which leave you with nothing to do but mold to your couch in between tear stained ciaos.

The goodbyes have been extensive. My first and most dramatic goodbye of course happened between the one and only shitbeck and I. That one was the worst. Partially because it was the first, partially because of how much I love shitbeck and her family, and partially because I left on a ferry... something about boats and saying goodbye makes it all the more dramatic. But really. 

But, it does seem they get easier. Not only with the goodbyes I have left to do, but also each summer it seems people get more accustomed to it. I witnessed a few high fives and a "peace out nigga" suffice for a goodbye between "goodbye alums" (if you will) the other day. 

So why is it that this first round of goodbyes is so dang hard? 

I think its because all of us don't really know what the hell sits in front of us. For everyone college bound its that weird nervous anxiety of like.... WTF WHAT IF I DON'T MAKE FRIENDS... OR WHAT IF I'M THE KID WHO FLUNKS OUT.... OR WHAT IF I JUST HATE IT.... 

For me, I'm pretty much guaranteed to make friends.. in a way. Traveling with the same 14 people kind of mandates that eventually, we are all going to get along and like each other to one degree or another. Seeing as there are no grades on my journey, I won't be flunking out.... but the last part, I guess kinda worries me... What if I do hate it? But knowing me... I won't. 

Maybe its none of those little worries that make the goodbyes so hard... Its not only the friendships I know we will miss, but maybe also the lifestyle? 

We've all been begging for our independence for so long... testing the limits of curfew, of behavior, of our day to day routines.... but now, independence is ours. and what we've all fought so hard for... SEEMS A LITTLE BIT FREAKIN SCARY. 

Maybe... Just maybe, I'm more freaked out than most. But one thing is keeping me from going freaking psycho... 

All the little memories. 

All the nights I slept over at a friends house... rather shamelessly? 

All the dinners. 

All the car rides. 

All the adventures. 

All the stories. 

All... the madness..... 

This summer has been phenomenal. From sushi dinners that ended in running through parking lots and into cars.... From nights on various tile floors. From spontaneous swim adventures to spontaneous trips across the country or to the beach.... From the strengthening of relationships between people I've known since kindergarten (or before) to the birth of beautiful friendships with people I hope to keep in contact with for a long while. This summer in its own little way, has a been a journey. 

Not unlike the journeys we all embark on much too soon for my own comfort level. 

A lot of people have been asking me how I feel about my year ahead. Basically, I feel like I did before I went sky diving. I had already committed to going, and I knew I would love the experience. What I did not know, however, was what it was actually going to be like. I didn't know how free fall would feel... and to a small degree, I was uncertain if the shoot would open. But.... I wasn't really scared or nervous.... Because I knew eventually, I'd just be on the edge of the plane.... and I'd have to jump out.

Now, if I were to go sky diving again... (which I certainly hope to do)... I would know the way your skin feels going 180 mph... I'd know how screwed you were if your shoot didn't open. I'd know... The experience. 

But right now, I do not what the experience ahead entails. I don't really know what will be the struggles... But I do foresee one as being homesick and missing SO MANY PEOPLE. 

So. Here is step one of keeping in contact with me. 

EMAIL. 

lizziemiller1@gmail.com 

memorize it. 

STEP TWO will entail creating a group where I will demand everyone who wants to keep in contact with me on my world tour to leave their email on the wall 

STEP THREE will culminate in the creation of a new blog, one specific for the trip that I will keep updating as I go. 

That's just the general plan. 

Now, if everyone will excuse me, I have my tumblr addiction to return to.... and I'm about to start a new episode of criminal minds. I have a very busy day ahead, as you may be able to tell. 

Peace. Love. Liz.

Summer Spirituality

I'm still unemployed... But I have found some things to do with my summer. 
This summer, I'm committing myself to to preparing for the year ahead. Essentially, I've devoted that "bored" time everyone gets... the point where facebook makes you nauseous, you've stumbled for a while, and already looked at a new camera online for like an hour.... i've devoted it to reading (mostly the required stuff for my big ole trip) and working out.... Low key, who hasn't seen me yet awkwardly working out on various parts of foothill? I swear it... Every class I see at least one person I know. People have pulled over and honked... I kid you not. Good thing I definitely do NOT have a sweating problem and always look SUPA attractive when this happens. Oh, and I usually have control over my breathing so speaking to people isn't a problem either... okay. not. none of that is true. but you should have already known that. 

All of this working out/reading though has become a weirdly.. spiritual experience? First of all, let me tell you about something... EVERYONE NEEDS TO READ THIS BOOK CALLED ISHMAEL. it makes you question the way we live, as humanity... not necessarily as Americans... just as human beings. The way we manipulate the world, like we are the Gods, taking what we want and building what we "need" to sustain civilization.... according to the book, we live like the "Gods" ruling the earth and what not.... so naturally with all these endorphin high induced pondering and philosophical reading.... I've been thinking a lot about well... GOD? 

I've had a lot of religious phases. I was raised a weird hybrid of Judiasm and Catholicism, and eventually chose to be Catholic... and now I guess I've chosen to be "agnostic"... whatever that means... But I really got to thinking... who is it? what does God mean? and the truth is... I still don't really have much of an answer... Which I think is OKAY. I mean, all we can do in life is ask questions? and ask better questions? so many questions? (thank you rosencrantz and guildenstern). 

BUT I have decided this. SOMETIMES "God" is found in people. And I don't mean like.... charity or even a religious figure like the pope or something. I came to this conclusion during bootcamp... 

Basically, during bootcamp we have to count out the number of seconds, or repetitions of whatever it is we are doing... which, if you are struggling to breathe, you are going to be struggling to shout out numbers and count. naturally, sometimes it gets too hard to count, there just isn't enough breath or control of it to be able to speak... one of these times... I found "God". It sounds so simple, but it was one of those moments in time where I thought I literally could not do another sit up if I tried. But somehow, this older soulful and fit black woman still could. No one else was counting, but her rich voice still carried through... Counting one by one the escalating number of tightening of the abs until we were done... and somehow, her voice, her ability to count, it made me finish. it made me act. it made me achieve. 

Isn't that what "God" does? Doesn't "he" make us act, make us achieve, push us closer to our goals, guide us through things when we think we can go no more? Is there a reason that "God" isn't tangible, identifiable? Is it because truly we are all a little bit of "God"..... truly, what is the difference between prayer and talking to a good friend.... are you not looking for the information we as humans, as ourselves, apparently don't have? the knowledge of what is good and what is evil?  

To be honest, I don't even really know what I'm even getting at anymore.... But bootcamp meets today at memorial park, so make sure to drive by, honk, wave, and set up a picnic on the grass... I'd also appreciate any signs and body painting if you guys are up to it. Because face it..... I HAVE NO SHAME.

Uploading Pics to Facebook

Is always a tedious process. Somehow, when selecting photos holding down the control button... always makes them "copies" somehow or another. Idk what is ever going on.... 

And.. let's face it... ever since the PLAS chronicles.... with every album upload, there is that little feeling of.... Jambs.... this one just won't measure up. 

Although, thank the lord for the PLAS albums.. without them, who would I have been in high school? That's a weird thing to say... who WOULD I have been... not WHO AM I in high school. Because, high school... IS OVER. 

All of us now, move on to bigger and better things... IN THREE MONTHS. Which leaves me to talk about how these next three months.... I HAVE NOTHING TO DO. 

I'm actually starting to scare myself.... I literally... have nothing to do... there's nothing to even blog about , because.... I do nothing with my life. 

I'm not even making this blog worthy of a facebook status posting. Because its not... because I've said... NOTHING. 

I'm getting increasingly frustrated with my boredom. I need a summer job.

reasons why I should have joined choir in high school

1. The pops concert. You wish I didn't take careful notes on my blackberry about every single act at POPs. But oh, I did. And then transcribed about 2/3 of them in blog format... and then realized how creepy and odd I was for taking meticulous notes on every performer at the POPs concert.... I may be and write preteniously, (who that blogs doesn't), but not arrogantly enough to write a critique (EVEN THOUGH THEY WERE ALL POSITIVE) on every act at pops. It would have been too much. Even for me. 

2.Choir people (espesh Chamber) get to be cliquey without being bitchy. Because its like... they are actually talented, and aren't douchey enough to have a trademark pose for the yearbook or general group pictures. No fishie face here folks. 

3. The sweatshirts are always cool. They haven't tried to look fratty and go neon.... Nor put some half funny half not funny enough innuendo on the shirt either. Or have some joke that no one except club members understand. Like  sq. root of negative one <3 math... come on... every freshman and person who took alg at chillside is walking around not knowing what the hell the shirt means.

4. Choir people feel secure singing in the car. Always. And Sing well. They often break the sing song in the car ice.... we all need it. AND CHOIR PEOPLE CAN HARMONIZE IN THE CAR... AND THEN THEY TURN TO YOU AND SAY, "LETS HARMONIZE".... AND I ALWAYS GO.. UH YEAH. WHATEVER THAT MEANS... AND THEN SOMEONE SAYS YOU SING THE LOW PART I SING THE HIGH PART.... AND I THINK TO MYSELF... WHAT PART ISN'T IT THE SAME WORDS... LULZ..... CATS OUT OF THE BAG.... wow.... I am embarassing... 

5. They don't have fundraisers (except song grams... but come on... everyone knows that's a joke and most people are always too hungover to even go to song grams and croak out the holiday notes..) so they aren't like in your face begging you to buy a pre-sale ticket to a cafeteria dance that you have no interest going to... like sorry not all of us like cutting up white tees wearing spandex, socks, and a "fun color" bra and dancing on a wooden box while certain teachers give you the "are you sober?" eye.... jambs.... 

6. Chamber people always get assembly time. and LBH, assembly time at LCHS is like.... social gold. let's face it. you can always name the assemblies commissioners from when you were in high school... or at least recognize them.... ditto epic cheer leaders.... ditto... well.. some people in chamber.... but who needs assembly time when you have a blog... DUH..... 

OH MY GOD. I JUST REALIZED JACOB WALTERS HAS CHAMBER, ASSEMBLY TIMEVIA MASCOT, A BLOG, AND MORMON POINTS... 5,000 POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR..... or the church of lds. 

7. Oh. and the best reason. CHOIR TOURS. What the hell. So  cool. No other organization on school grounds like... GOES TO ITALY... and no teacher has a problem with it... because you are like spreading music or some crap. I barely got to go to knotts for physics this year because some teachers were so bitchy about me missing their class..... and its not only the ditching school part... but as everyone knows... just like everyone hooks up on habitat for humanity trips.... and no one hooks up on yosemite trips.... (sorry it's true)... THE MORMONS RUN WILD ON TOUR. And that my friend, is a sight to see.  Or so I've heard. Or have I? 

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You know that feeling when you walk into a test, know you are going to fail, finish first because you guessed on every question, and just left the rest blank? After you turn it in, you go to the bathroom for the rest of the period because you feel so awkward, but at the same time, so liberated because you just DGAFFED so hard and you want to walk around the school for lack of anything better to do.... you just feel too confined by the classroom and want to roam as a way of metaphorically giving the finger to the man... 

you know that feeling? 
I FEEL THAT WAY ALL THE TIME NOW. 

I just got home from Chinese and I've never been home so early. 
Today, we had a test. 
and that feeling I just described... well... when you are trying to bullshit a Chinese test that you utterly know nothing about because you haven't made it to class since the last test... it's about that feeling times a gazillion. 

I literally don't know what I even wrote. I was supposed to read and write complete sentences in characters based off of a passage.... I wrote one word answers in English. It gets to that point where you don't even give it the bare minimum... because you know that isn't going to get you any further. 

that. screwed. 

Second Semester Senior year... I've truly learned nothing. Well, nothing in school anyway. and that isn't to say that my teachers have given up teaching, I wish someone else could take this burden and leave me to point fingers... but life's not like that. Only I, will ultimately bear the burden of my actions. 

However, I have learned some things... some cliches, some realizations, some with funny stories behind them. 

These are SOME of the things I've learned. 

1) When it rains, it pours, and you'll find it easier to stay inside than bother to go outside and drown. what you really should do, is learn to swim. When times are tough, it's better to face the world than stay inside and crust. Mood follows behavior, behavior does not follow mood. 

2) There is no such thing as the word "try". you either do something or you don't. 

3) the internet, is both the love of my life and the thing I hate the most. It is both good and evil. This past month, I had someone a bit random but extremely kind (if you read my blog, I appreciate you more than you know) send me a wonderful inbox paying me a wonderful compliment.. That was a sign that facebook can be used for the good. A week later or so, someone wrote a blog about me... and it wasn't nice. Which I guess just goes to show the next thing I learned which is.... 

4) There are no absolutes. There is no black, or white, no good, or evil, just everything in between. Are good actions "good" if they are spurred by "bad" motives? are "bad" actions "bad" if they are spurred by good motives? No one knows... everything is just a shade of gray. is it not? 

5) There's nothing else left to do but keep moving on. As people, we will all recover from everything we go through.... as regina spektor once said "and everyone must breathe until their dying breath." wise woman, she is. 

6) getting exactly what you deserve is either the best or the very worst feeling in the world. failing a class because you didn't turn one thing in, sucks. getting an a because you worked your ass off, is incredible. when you work your hind parts to the bone, and get a b, well that's a sign that life isn't fair. 

7) Life isn't fair. 

8) I hate my dog. Unfairly, but refer to number 7. I really hate my dog. 

9)  Contrary to everything I have previously believed about the American Dream and it's demise.... A part of me has recently had a change of heart and I think it may have a little kick left. Hard work, works. Being smart, isn't enough anymore.... If you are smart and don't work hard, you are an idiot for not working hard... because the idiot that works hard is ultimately going to a)catch up to you and b) get their way because of the integrity that they have. being a smart lazy ass.... makes you a lazy ass. that, I learned the hard way. 

10) Every single person has something to offer, and everyone ultimately has something in common. You can hate, but why.... We're all traveling on our own roads. some on the busiest roads there are, some are wandering by themselves. either way, we are all traveling.
 

Idk. 
felt like writing. 

mehr.