about me

i guess the first thing we should get straight here is that i was born in toronto, canada and my parents, nay, entire freaking family are from spain. do not even attempt to explain my pale exterior because no one else has been able to do so. i share my birthday with hugo chavez, marcel duchamp and jackie kennedy. trust me when i say that this explains a lot. my father is from galicia and my mother hails from leon. this means that my father reminds us that we are descended from the fearsome celts whilst my mother tries to play up the historical connection to the catholic monarchs – yes, the same ones that are responsible for the spanish inquisition, the expulsion of the jews and the fall of moorish granada. they were busy people. i should point out that my mother hates the roman catholic church.

 

with my parents being working class immigrants from spain to canada, this meant that i grew up with my younger sister, being serenaded with stories of franco’s spain, how the rich & church will eat your young, and how “white” people (i.e. canadians, brits and everyone with an anglo-saxon name) don’t know what they’re doing when it comes to much of anything. we shared a place at the dinner table with ghosts from the spanish civil war and were constantly reminded on how we were “not like the canadians”. of course, having two immigrant parents and living in toronto meant that we were like MOST canadians and there was much ’splaining of life going on. it also meant that i took piano lessons for 11 years. i now have a shiny diploma on the wall which means that there is NO MORE MUSIC for me to learn. or something like that. i was raised to love public healthcare, french & english packaging (comment ce-dit “riboflavin” EN FRANÇAIS?) and the multi-cultural programing brought to you by rogers cable 10 – especially the funny ukranian guy in the furry hat sunday mornings. it also meant that i was raised to hate the u.s. government, capitalism, hippies and have a healthy wariness about americans in general. this really aides in my relationship with my american boyfriend.

 

my dual identity coupled with high school years in an all-girl school and a perserve love for communist leaders, woody allen and luis buñuel has made me the socially ept person i am today. it also means i tell hella stories at parties. i am an atheist, anarchist-feminist.

the first thing i can remember wanting to be when i grew up was a news anchor. journalism. this eventually gave way to a mad egyptologist spell (which i think every girl with nerdish leanings goes through) until i decided on medicine. specifically, virology. but i realised that i don’t care much for looking after people. by this point my adolescent moping grew up into white-hot political rage  – and i started writing FOR REALZ. journalism. my working class parents said no no no and tried to steer the anger towards law school. i didn’t entirely dismiss it, me thinking, perhaps i could yell and rant for human rights and international law. a stint in university taking law course cured that shit RIGHT UP. deciding not to dedicate my life to WANK BULLSHIT and went back to the angry writing. journalism. a fierce shoplifting spree in first year university lasting approximately 9 months, 2 arrests and $5-6,000 CDN worth of damages, cemented the fact that i don’t care much for upholding or protecting the law either. i out-winona-ed winona before she did.

during my undergrad years, i studied history and politics. i specialised in espionage, military conflict, soviet styles and how the u.s. government is fucking us all in the balls. i got an A+ in the latter subject. i opted to get my m.a. in middle east politics in london (that’s in EN-GER-LAND), specialising in how israel is fucking the rest of us in the balls that the u.s. can’t reach. i made a half-assed attempt to learn arabic which means that i made the attempt and the university made the half-ass. it didn’t work out so well. i now owe the bank exactly $18.576 jiggazillion dollars. this fact and my militant political rage, makes me a very funny person to be around. and not always funny ha ha. thanks to my loverly spanish passport, i can live in london as long as i want without the english being able to kick me out. sometimes i pass the time trying to get myself deported. i am now attempting to pay my bank loan back to NO AVAIL. i also pass the time playing my favourite game: heat or eat? it’s where you gather in a circle, roll the dice and decide whether your paycheque will go towards paying the gas bill or the groceries. it works best with 4-6 players (gameboard, calculators and hammers not included).

an entirely unhealthy obssession with mid-ninties britpop music, sick sense of humour and disdain for late-ninties north american pop culture meant that i decided at a young age to move to london, the magical capital of the island nation. arriving here in 2005 for my m.a., i realised two very important things:

1. london really is REDONKULOUS expensive and as much as i love the city, it is impossible to live here without money = clean living under difficult circumstances.

2. england is a shithole. i don’t care how much they won world war two – NOTHING HAS BEEN FIXED SINCE THEN. this is probably why all the best records to leave the island are so angry at their core. i probably should have figured that out.

i am currently working in the production department of a magazine publishing house in london. my journalism dreams led me to this crapshoot of an office. and by “led”, i mean that i had just finished my m.a., had about £0.67 to my name and needed to pay the rent FAST so i took this job. i hate it and try not to stab my eyes out with a rusty fork every monday morning. since january 2008 i have been desperately trying to find a proper media/journalism position or position with a political group/org/ngo – either paths that will use my degree and freaky skillz. as my friends emerge triumphantly with jobs and pay, so far…nothing. this makes my sense of humour know NO BOUNDS. i am currently living in north-west london and want to move back to just plain north london. i am not psychologically ready to return to toronto so i won’t and i have not ruled out returing to university to do a phd but i want to wait until i know that it is an option i have actively chosen. i figure 30 is a good time for that and a long enough wait.

i am 25 now. my birthday is in july.

all i every really wanted to be was a published writer.

i drink too much coffee and probably swear too much as well. fuck. i like photography, the cold war, soy products, french new wave films, britpop, graham coxon, GDR, joseph stalin, the jubilee line, the jesus and mary chain, degrassi junior high, shoegazing records, vinyl, winona ryder, my bloody valentine, skin care products, ‘78-82 post punk, dadism, pokemon, turntables, the beatles, mod fashion, armed revolution, the weather underground, the x files, terrifying educational films from the national film board of canada, selfridges, bauhaus (both the movement and the band), factory records, benefit & m.a.c. cosmetics, club monaco, uniqlo, dark jeans, black dresses, third wave feminism, george orwell, anarchist barcelona, avant-garde american ’50s paintings and racoons.