The Artichoke Cabana

Okay, so I am so totally in love with a lot of things about my new apartment/duplex/well-actually-it's-a-triplex.  

The things I am not so excited about are the fact that it is only about 400 square feet and also that we don't have a real oven.  Microwave ovens and toaster ovens for us!  Oh and also, we just got our own kitchen sink this last Monday.  As in after we had already lived there for 5 whole weeks!

But the things I like, Oh!  The things I like!  They are many.  Well, this house has a very old people vibe.  Just in some of the details it is old.  In fact, it smells a little bit like old people in our place, and we are doing our best to eradicate that smell in favor of a more youthful aroma.  

But it has hardwood floors and we are keeping them clean and free of schtuffs and you know how empty, clean floor space just does magic to my creativity, brain cleanliness, and everything else.  

Anyways, in no particular order, the schtuffs I love about my new place.  

There is this dandy little lightbulb in one of the closets.  The kind where you pull a little string and a naked lightbulb just illuminates all your clothes and shoes and things you have otherwise, uh... stored in your closet (Because you obviously didn't just shove a whole bunch of boxes of crap in there).  I could only take a very terrible picture of it, but there it is.

And then the bathroom.  The bathroom is this wonderful little thing full of way too many patterns and also, it is very feminine and cheery.  I quite like our bathroom.  It makes me want to take bubble baths and light candles and be pampered a little bit.  Or at least take a nice hot shower.  The shower head is so tall!

These little guys are on all the knobs in the bathroom.  They are so old people and so cute!  They are really old though, and fading, and one of them has been broken and super-glued back together (I think).

Oh and most awesomely, the natural lighting.  I love windows, and I love sunshine.  Yep, I am a SoCal girl (with SAD and everything) and I basically need lots of light and warmth to be happy.

So I pretty much love the fact that most of out light comes from the actual sun.  This picture was actually taken on the day I moved in, and all of my clothes are on the couch in clear trash bags.  So very, very classy, I am.

Dudes!  I love this little place.  My biggest complaint was the fact that we went 5 ENTIRE WEEKS WITHOUT A KITCHEN SINK (don't get me started on my feelings about my property manager at this point), but now that we have one, I feel so good about our tiny whole in the wall.


Oh, and if you're wondering about the title of the post, it's because the name our place shall by known by, from here until forever, is henceforth

The Artichoke Cabana

Which absolutely does not make any sense, but you do whatcha gotta ... or something.  

Back To School (Year 3)

If you wouldn't terribly mind, could you listen to this song as you read this post?

Let me tell you a little thing about my hometown.  In my hometown, the first week that school starts is always the start of a massive heatwave.  It's like Summer's defiance of school.  Because Summer gets angry that there are no little children to watch cartoons until noon and go to the beach and get sand in their swimsuits.  Instead of sprinklers and popsicles there are backpacks, and pencil boxes, and tags to be taken off of clothing.

This year I've just been sitting back and watching the whole city settle into it.  New routines, new teachers, new friends, and for my brothers and I'm sure many other boys across the city, video games and pool side lounging are replaced with homework and staying after school for practice.  And every year, even though there is always a lot of dreading and sighing and tired eyes early in the morning, it feels good to go back to structure, to go back to activity and teachers and a sociability.

I'm starting to get really excited for this new school year.  Can you tell?  Things are finally, finally falling into place and I feel like there is a great year coming up under my toes.  I remember growing up, I met every year with a few nerves in my stomach and a few of those sighs that I mentioned before, but always excited to become immersed in something.  To get lost in my day and spend time studying and accomplishing.

This year feels different.  It feels like I'm losing a few of the safety nets that I grew up with.  But at the same time, I have that same little nervous feeling that I used to have growing up.  A little worm in my stomach that wiggles around and makes me antsy.  I think I'm more nervous for this year than for any other year of college.

But that's also because I'm sooooo excited!  Yesterday I made the drive back to school and let me tell you, it was actually kind of awesome.  I know, this coming from the girl who had an emotional explosion last time time I did this drive.  (I think the key to a good road trip is good mixed CD's.  I burned myself one and forced a friend of mine to burn one for me and I survived it all.  But that is just a side note.)

I was sad to leave Upland more than usual this year.  Sad to leave my family (even though they will hardly notice I'm gone once my Grandma moves in on Saturday).  But the exciting part is that I moved into my new apartment yesterday, and it feels like home too.

Please excuse my face.  No makeup and 6 hours of driving without air conditioning in a fairly hot environment will do that to you.  Or at least it does it to me.  Also, that is a strand of hair, not a crazy eyebrow.  

It's a little space to call my own (well, mine and kristin's) and it has couches and a bed and hardwood floors and a little makeshift kitchen and so many little things that make it feel like it's mine that I will tell you about later.  I feel like this little space is the start of a lot of good things.  The start of a year that I think I will look back on for the rest of my life, hopefully with smiles.

Home is wherever I'm with you.

Pudding and Pie

I love this picture.  It's from the last night that Jordan was in California before he left for school.

I love it for its awkwardness, because my Dad is barely in the picture and Puke wouldn't squeeze in close to me if I was holding a million dollar bill.
I love it for the night it represents, because we had a good time eating and talking, which is what Gamboas do best.
But mostly, I love it for the Jordan-ness of it.  Because his awkward posing is perfect for the occasion.  Because he looks so ready to set off and to take on new challenges and yet, we were all (we are all) backing him.  Our little (or maybe not so little) family that produced one Jordan for the world.  (you're welcome)

I'm so excited to see what he does with his time, because I know it will be something that he can put the Gamboa name on.

See you at Christmas George!  I can't wait!

Your adoring little seester,

G

Stella

You know what Stella and I have in common?  We both got our groove back.  Have you ever gotten your groove back?  It's pretty much the most awesome thing there ever was.

Definitely groovin'

I didn't realize I had lost a little bit of my life-fire (is that phrase too cheesy to actually use?) until this last weekend.  When I got it back.  I know it's a little soon to be saying that I definitively got some mojo back, but just listen to the day I had yesterday:

I woke up a full two hours before my first class and got ready, answered emails, read five pages of the Book of Mormon, and started cleaning my room.  I ate breakfast and went to class for an hour and then came back and then I did level 1 of Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred.  I showered and got dressed and finished cleaning my room.  I even vacuumed.
At this point it was only noon and so I got some lunch and then headed to institute.  After an hour of that, I went to work and after an hour of nothing much to do, I finished everything I wanted to.
After work, I called my brother, got dinner with a friend, sent my resume out to three different places and then headed to the library, where I finished my music theory homework, wrote yesterday's blog post, and brainstormed this one.
Then I wrote in my journal and got to bed by 11:30.

That amount of productivity has been gone in my life for sooo long.  I went through a while (an embarrassingly long while I might add), where I didn't do much besides go to class and lay in bed.  I barely squeaked by with my grades (don't worry Mom and Pops, still B's and better) and at work and I just felt like a blob.  A bloggy blob.  Haha

It's good to feel excited about life.  My point is this: if you don't feel excited about your life, don't settle for that.  Because being excited about life helps you to be a more Christ-like person.  (At least that's how it's been working for me for the last 20 years).  And I look at myself in the mirror and I feel more attractive.

And more importantly:  Being more excited about your life doesn't necessarily mean changing it.  I almost hate the cliché that if you don't like something you can't change then just change your attitude.  I prefer to think about it in this (only slightly different) way:

Choose your love.
Love your choice.

There are tons of things I don't like about Stanford.  There are tons of things I don't like about being a student in general.  There are tons of things I don't like about myself, my body, my family, my personality, my laugh.  I could go on and on.  But these are the things I have.  And they are great.  There are things that I am absolutely crazy about for each of these things.  So I am going to concentrate on accentuating those things that I love.

Sometimes, I am afraid to do posts like this because I don't want to sound preachy or like I have all the answers.  It is so very painfully clear sometimes that I don't have all the answers.  But I have decided from now on to be unapologetically grateful and happy and positive.
People make it so cool-seeming to be a tortured artist type.  Or to be so aware of the sadness on this planet that they cannot possibly be happy.  Sadness has its place.  It has an important place.  But I think in my life, I'm going to decide that happiness has an even bigger one.

I have decided that I am in love with my life and that I always will be.

(I apologize that I don't have a glass of wine to give you because that ending was cheeeeeeeese.)

On Living Alone...

I'm trying to balance out my serious posts with posts like my last one, where I complain about being sick and just gush over hot celebrities who help me feel better.  Hopefully this one will be somewhere in between those two extremes.

So for the last 8 weeks, and for 8 more weeks, due to some unfortunate circumstances, I have been / will be living alone.  The idea of living alone is pretty much radically different from the reality of it.  At least for me it was.

Partly because it was unexpected, and partly because I've never lived alone before, the first couple of weeks were downright depressing.  I crawled up in my own world of isolation and I didn't like it, but I didn't know what to do to change.  So I did weird things to try and shake myself up into normal life.  But that didn't work out very well.

What I learned was that what you do when you're by yourself says a lot about myself.  And i didn't like the version of myself that came out in those first couple of weeks.

But also, living alone is scary.  There's no one for you to take care of, and there's no one to take care of you. If you were kidnapped in your sleep no one could really be sure of it for at least a few days.  I have this theory that people aren't meant to live alone.  Nor are they meant to live in hyper-social places like dorms where all of your private life is now public.  And if you want to be alone, or if some weird depressional urge has you being alone, then you still get to hear everyone around you being social and having fun and singing along to Rebecca Black's stupid stupid song.
Those first few weeks were definitely the worst of both worlds.

So I tried to inject myself with the fun things that I used to do when I wasn't so depressed.  In stead of being lonely all the time, I was just alone.  I picked up fun things that I still do.

Let's pretend that "imagine what life would be like married to Mr. Incredible" 

time is not something I actually engage in.

Like one girl dance parties.

And fashion shows.
And turning my room into a work-out room.
And it's ok that you don't want to put on clothes after the shower time. (oops that one was supposed to be a secret)
And thinking time with Mo-tab.
And play with make-up time.
And sit on the floor to do your homework time.
And Disney sing-along time.

Mad props to Henry David Thoreau, man.

My very own Walden Pond?

But f'reals, it's been pretty enlightening.  I've learned about what I like and what I don't and what I do when left to my own devices and how to have fun with myself and how to be comfortable with just myself.

But I'm also seriously ready to move into a house again.

Why does anyone have children anyways?

I'm going to attempt a serious blog post here.  Because I have serious things on my mind and I sort of like it when other people post serious things.

I'm taking this writing class with the very general topic of happiness.  We have to choose one topic for the next ten weeks to write about and do presentations on, as long as we can tie it to happiness somehow.  I'm writing about the Disney brand, but that's besides the point.
My teacher wanted to get the creative juices flowing, so she made us read a billion different articles to try and inspire us.  We somehow came to the topic of families, and specifically having children.  We discussed how study after study shows that having children does not increase happiness at all.  My professor went on a rant about how people know that having children will make them more tired, less financially stable, more stressed, more emotionally tired, more pressed for time and yet they stupidly continue to have children.  How in the old days having children served an economic function, because you could get your kids to help you with the work on the farm.  But now, the roles have reversed and parents are, in essence, slaves to their children.

I bit my tongue.  It was the second day of class, and I didn't want my teacher to hate me just yet, so I just let all the words pass by me.

Let me explain:  My Freshman year of college, after my very first term, my oldest sister was really pregnant, and my mom couldn't be there to help my sister out during the first few days of Preston's life because he kept playing tricks on all of us even from the womb.  My other sister was out of the country, and Adri didn't want to be without feminine help while in labor.  So I went.  Me.  18-year-old, knowing nothing about the miracle of birth (I was 5 when my youngest brother was born) and all, I went.  And I try not to be too weird about this, but that day changed my life.  I didn't really realize it then, but thinking back on that day I remember the rush of emotions that ranged from worry and almost panic (He was almost born without a doctor in the room) to discomfort to the most instant and complete sense of love that I have ever felt.  I'm not just talking about the love that I had for the baby, even though Preston means a whole lot to me.  I'm also talking about watching my sister and brother-in-law and the love they had for their new baby and for each other.  It was something I will never be able to adequately describe and something that I hope everyone gets the opportunity to someday experience.

The point of that story is not that I think the miracle of children is awesome.  It's not even that I think the studies are wrong.  The point of the story is that I decided, after that point in my life, that I wanted to fill my life with as much love as possible.  That my new life's goal is to love as many people as I can get this heart of mine to love, and to be surrounded by people who love me.

So maybe children do make you unhappy.  I know they do sometimes.  I also know that they make you happy sometimes.  I can't really say for sure which there is more of because I have never had children of my own.  (Though I love my nephews so much that I feel like they belong to me a little bit).  But I do know, that nothing ever, in my entire life of 20 years and half of a Stanford education and various jobs and relationships and friends, none of it, has ever brought me as much love as the love I remember in that room almost a year and a half ago.  Love like that has nothing to do with someone being forced to work for someone else.  And every time I think back to that day, or to those two little boys, I can't even believe how much I love my family.

Love lasts much longer than happiness anyways.

Three.

"Genevieve, please tell me the significance of the number three for you right now.  Oh please, oh please, oh please."

Well interwebz, because you are basically begging me, I will tell you why this post is titled, "Three".

In the last month, I have made no less than 3 decisions late at night because I have wanted to make a change in my life.  Decisions that I thought, "What's keeping me from doing that?"  and then took the plunge and went for.

Decision Numero Uno:
Changing My Name.  Or at least changing the name that I use to refer to myself. The most permanent of the the three decisions.

Decision B:
Rearranging my room.  My room has undergone some pretty drastic changes in the last week or so.  I know without a reference the following pic doesn't really show change, but it does show how huge my room feels now.

And when your entire living situation is about 20 square feet, that feels pretty huge.  Also notice how my desk keeps me trapped against the wall.  I like it because it forces me to stay back there and do work, but I still have an entry/exit path.  I call it my Cave of Wonder.

and finally
Decision Number 3:
I cut my own bangs into straight across bangs.  The idea popped into my head at about 11:45, and after consulting my brother (who does so many crazy things to his hair that of course he was going to tell me to go for it), I did it.  The whole thing was over and done with (including me washing and then restyling my bangs) by about 12:30.  Pic on fb the next morning (social media addict, I know).

So why do I do it?

I don't know.  I used to be so the opposite of impulsive.  Plan plan plan, stan.  But now I think of all these things, and I think that there is nothing stopping me from doing them, and I just do them.  I take trips across the country and I take classes on web design and negotiation and ebonics, and I read about what life would be like managing a restaurant.  Maybe I still plan, but now I just plan to be impulsive.  Or, because it is impossible to plant to be impulsive, I plan to do things I want, just because I can and I think they'd be good for me.


Maybe I'll grow out of it, but hopefully I won't.

The Mature and Responsible Thing to Do

I've been thinking a lot about how my life is different now that I'm twenty (because it so totally is, and I'm not being sarcastic).  No, but f'reals, I feel a lot lately like I'm supposed to make real people decisions and be in charge of all my schtuffs.  What ever happened to safety nets?

But also I'm twenty.  Isn't that when people go out and do crazy things and learn about random new skills and meet people who change their lives and are just a tad irresponsible?
Apparently not at Stanford.  Everyone here is too busy changing the world and securing their summer internships with the Dalai Lama or McKinsey Consulting.  But I don't really like that.  It drives me a little bit crazy.  I've always been a bit of an over-planner, but I feel myself pulling back from planning every facet of my life and more and more just going with the flow.

And so Wednesday I was feeling blue.

Call it post-birthday slump, call it being hormonal, call it whatever, I was just a little down.

So being the twenty-year-old that I am, I took the high road on this one.  Meaning I bought a bunch of orange juice, skipped work for the day, and laid in bed and watched The Incredibles. Yes, I am quite the responsible adult.

Stupid life responsibilities and the way they make it impossible for me to travel my way into a bajillion debt without worrying about how I would sustain myself.  Maybe realizing I have to be responsible is enough for this year round, right?

Hold that thought. I'm off to send a billion emails to professors and write a couple cover letters and then practice climbing up the walls in my hallway.  Oh and I had cereal for dinner today.

Celebrate Good Times, COME ON!

I hope you sang the title as you read it.  That was my intention.

Recently, I turned 20 years old.  Old old old.  Okay, I'm not at all old.  I'm twenty years young.  So young, that I spent the weekend not thinking about school at all and instead taking a road trip to southern California.

While there I spent time:

• Eating with the fam

• Cruising the streets of Hollywood

• Oggling Blake Griffin

• Chilling with some princesses

• Forcing Marcus and Puke to step out of their comfort zones

• Dancing with Mr. Incredible

• Getting in powdered sugar fights in public

• and generally having a blast

By the way, Mr. Incredible is a FLIRT.  Just don't tell Elastigirl about our little encounter.  (I would also like to add that I was not overly flirtatious and that if anything, Mr. Incredible was coming on to me.  But that doesn't mean I didn't enjoy it.)

But TWO DECADES.  I mean, that is a looong time. Bring on two more?

What's in a Name?

Remember how I told you that Gigi isn't my real name.  Well, I've been thinking a lot about that.  Almost every time I tell people that my real name is actually Genevieve, they say something about what a pretty name that is.

And I've always agreed.  I didn't really pick the nickname Gigi.  People have been calling my Gigi since before I can remember.  Which is not to say that Gigi is not a great name.  It's French, and cutesy, and even a little flirty.  And it's done me well in my life.  I got into Stanford with the name Gigi.

But I always pictured myself growing up to be Genevieve.  Which is why I'm going to start introducing myself as Genevieve. Which is not to say that I am going to force you all to call me Genevieve and never say Gigi again.  I'm even going to keep this blog titled the way it is.

So even though it caused controversy, I want to change my name.  I don't dislike Gigi, I just kind of want to be Genevieve now.

I'm still the same girl, after all.

Remember Free Time?

Yeah those were the days.

The days before I went to bed at 1 am and woke up at 7:30 to finish homework.  The days before I spent about an hour and a half just walking around campus to all the places I went.  The days before I had three midterms within a week and a half of each other and I skipped meals just to study or finish homework.  The days before I gained stress-weight all the time.

I spent a lot of time today remembering those days.  They were good to me.  I can almost remember the way it felt to sit in one spot for so long that my butt actually hurt.  The way it felt to spend more than 15 minutes a day with any of my friends.

And then, of course, I felt the drop in mood that happens when you ponder how easy life used to be.  Because no matter how well things are going now, it always seems that things were easier to handle if they happened a long time ago.  And now always seems to suck.

And then I saw my first-ever pregnant student at Stanford.  Well at least she looked pregnant, and she looked like a student.  (I know, all you BYU students are wondering how it took me soooo long to see a pregnant student.  It like never happens here.)  At first I was jealous of her.  Because she probably has a nice husband named James or something.  And probably when she gets home (at like 5, not 9)  she and James eat together and ask each other about their days and tell stories about the funny things they saw walking around campus.  And maybe she mostly just has reading and she gets to relax when she gets home and put her feet on a table and drink a glass of orange juice and read something for her sociology class.

But then I thought wait a minute, it would suck if I were pregnant.  Like going to school where random almost-20-year-old-girls stare at me like I'm some freak and I have to walk everywhere with swollen ankles and an extra 40 pounds on my body, and it is frickin hot for February and I'm sweating everywhere and none of my clothes fit me right and I have no money, but in two months James and I have to figure out a way to pay for the two of us in school and baby.

So even though I'm busy and I'm a little bit tired of school right now, at least I'm not pregnant.  

Which is why they call me an optimist.


Oh, and bear with me through these formatting experiments.

Legit Blog

This is officially a legit blog.

Know how I know?  I got tagged in one of those blog-it-forward do-hickeys by one of my oldest friends, Brooke.  (Could I say that my siblings are my oldest friends?  I've known them the longest, but I've only really been friends with them for like 7-ish years.  Weird.)

So now you have to sit through 15 facts about me.  Oh and they're supposed to be interesting?  That's just too much.

1. I've worn flip-flops basically ever day since the 9th grade, even though I'm terribly self-conscious about my ugly feet.  Rain or shine.  Also, Sundays don't count because I wear high heels.  
2. Gigi isn't even my real name.  (Haha I sound like a spy.) My name is Genevieve.  My initials are G.G. which sort of evolved into Gigi.  
3. In general, I'm pretty self-conscious physically, except when it comes to my hair.  I have really good hair.  Even on fat days.  
4. Someone once told me that my biggest skill is the ability to get things done.  Which is by no means what I wanted to hear, but it's probably true.  
5. Almost all of the life goals or expectations that I had set for myself in high school have changed since then.  Though that's not really too weird when you're convinced as a 16 yr-old that you will die old, crazy, and alone, with only your dogs to keep you company.  
6. I've never been in love.  Or really anything close, actually.  
7. I like to think of myself as being very self-sufficient and independent.  
8. I like to sing in the shower.  LOUD.  And I'm pretty sure my entire dorm hates me for it. 
9. I'll tell you most anything about me if I think you won't judge me for it.  Or unless it's still fresh.  
10. I've watched a Disney movie at least once a month (more like once a week)  since about my junior year of high school.  I know a lot of words to a lot of songs.  
11. I'm really bad when you put me in front of an audience.  Which I know is the wrong attitude to take on that, but I can't really help it.  
12. One time I did a back handspring.  
13. I have a terrible habit of carrying my cell phone in my ... in the front of my shirt.  Which gets awkward sometimes.  
14. I like the sound of the word geranium.  
15. I am at the same time shy and loud.  If I know around half the people in a group, I will be loud, but any less and I will be like shy mcgee.  But if you talk to me for like half an hour I will probably get louder and louder.  

Ok, so ... even though they might probably won't do it (and I wouldn't be offended), I tag McCall, Jacie, and Meagan.