meg_the_expat

It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside

2012-01-18T08:36:00.002+01:00

Once again, because of my prescribed pain and sleeping pills, I cannot attest to the coherence of this writing specimen. Just trying to give a blow by blow account of my recovery.

Day #1 was pretty much agony - at first I was able to breathe through the nose, then that went away in a matter of hours as residue and scar tissue blocked everything. Then there was the puking from Percocet, a lovely side effect due to not having enough foodstuffs in my tum tum other than a couple of popsicles. It's difficult to eat when you have zero appetite (something I would like to carry with me post-recovery! lol) and it hurts to swallow, but I have to eat something to keep my throat hydrated.

Day #2 No nausea, thank god, just a lot of lolloping around doing nothing and every time I'd take another Percocet I'd be down for the count for several hours. I always wake up with cotton mouth and dread that first sip of water that will hurt as it goes down, the way a shot of whiskey may have hurt before, no joke. Everything is more tender today, less blood from my nose, more mucus or dried blood. Sometimes there are fleeting moments were I can get a (highly obstructed) breath through my nose that makes quite an unpleasant noise and I just say screw it, wait til Harvey vacuums out the debris in there and hopefully I'll be able to breath comfortably.

So, yes, feeling rather useless these days. I can't even watch a whole movie without getting aggravated by the sound (ears hurt, a residual problem since ENT are all connected in this great circle of life).

OK I think I'm too exhausted to write more on my Percocet and Ambien cocktail. Nighty night.

Tonsillectomy and Septoplasty recovery (among other nose issues)

2012-01-17T15:01:00.004+01:00

Fair warning -- includes details of a medical procedure and its recovery. ---

I'm writing this little entry because from what I've seen, not many sources are available online describing the duo-procedure of a tonsillectomy and septoplasty at the same time (also had the adenoids and turbinates reduced, but laypeople don't usually know what those are, so moving on....). Also, this provides me an opportunity to vent.

The other inspiration for me to write this, and far less Helpful Hannah, is that I've been sleeping on and off and naturally waking up when I'm due for another Percocet (which has to be crushed in apple sauce, because there's just no way I could swallow that horse pill with my throat like this).

Percocet is no longer what I consider a gift from god. Oh sure, it was at first, but I think that when you're on a semi empty stomach of a spoonful of applesauce and a few popsicles (which are a challenge to get down and only tolerated because they help soothe the throat), the Percocet adds a new and entirely unwelcome monkey wrench: extreme nausea. Yeah. Already yaked a few times, not really sure what the contents of my stomach had to provide, but it was gnarly. At least I find that when I lay down flat on my back with my head elevated, I don't feel so nauseated.

Still attempting to breathe through the nose to little avail. It's filled with goo and dried blood and scar tissue, so now I really can't breathe through it hardly at all. It bleed excessively if you don't keep your head above your heart, e.g., if you decide to bend over or, y'know, hug the porcelain throne while silently cursing god for this painful affliction. What happens when you do put your head below the heart area is a massive nosebleed -- happened to me a couple times already because I forgot about that rule. And I can't blow my nose or anything normal, I have to clean it out with a q tip and hyrogen peroxide and neosporin every few hours, then change the gauze pad under my nose which collects blood.

I'm sure this will all be worth it in the end, because my sleep will improve dramatically once my nose is fully open and doesn't congest as soon as my head hits the pillow. Not to mention my tonsils were obstructing my airway to a degree that dictated their removal, as well.

It's not just sleep, either, but that in exercise I find myself needing more air in my lungs and I just can never get it. Even while riding horses I needed more oxygen.

One more log of discomfort to throw down on the fire is my EARS. Loud noises really hurt. I can only watch the TV at a mere hum, or when I chat with people they have to take down the volume.

I'm not really trying to complain (maybe just a bit), I just want to detail what it's like to go through these procedures. And it'll be worth it. The doctor said I had "monster tonsils," big adenoids which really obstructed my breathing (which were removed, too, but the funny thing is that part of the anatomy usually disappears after age 13), then that deviated septum, which I had no idea was a factor for me at all until I met my doctor, so they just included the procedure, too, so more air can flow through my nostrils.

As of now, I can't attest to the success of any of these procedures yet, since my nose is blocked, my throat hurts like none other, and I'm just exhausted and a bit nauseated from my pills. Something tells me I will be a very happy camper in the end, though, so I'm looking forward to being able to breathe!

Tonsillectomy and Septoplasty recovery

2012-01-17T15:01:00.001+01:00

Blog rhymes with log

2011-08-01T11:41:00.003+02:00

On a gothic romance novel kick - re-reading Jane Eyre and then onto Rebecca (another one I've already read). Still gotta unpack my books in my new place, I'm sad they are in boxes. Any other novels from the gothic genre people like, or am I the only literary nerd out of my friends? I know books are an ancient form of entertainment, a primitive version of digital video recordings, etc.

Oh yeah, and I'm in a new place. We got to move in a few days earlier than expected, but the lease officially will start tomorrow. I will have to take pictures of it when I get it unpacked and more decorated because now it doesn't have too much of a personality. I have to get the bed frame and headboard put together so my mattress is sitting on the floor right now - well, on top of the box spring doodad, but yeah.

Love the new place. It's very odd to drive out of the parking lot and then be in a city. I'm unused to living in an urban area, excluding my brief stint in Florence when I studied abroad. Florence is a mini big city, IMO, because you can pretty much walk across the whole city in about an hour and all the sights of the city are in walking distance. I could write a whole blog entry about Florence but that will have to wait.

Other new life developments are in swing, but I don't want to jinx them by jumping the gun and mentioning those now.

In any case, I'm starting to nod off after a relatively long day/week. Time to read a couple pages of Jane Eyre before turning in, although at the sleepy rate I'm going it may just be a couple paragraphs.

My Spanish love affair (while in the USA)

2011-06-19T01:56:00.008+02:00

OK so let me start with this: Spain has its own social networking site that is called Tuenti (http://www.tuenti.com), which I signed up for while I was living in Spain in 2008-2009. I haven't been on the site in probably more than a year, and I hardly used it while I was there, either. I only logged in because I got an email saying I had a message on the site, which I found intriguing, because who would send me a message on Tuenti instead of writing to my email address or on Facebook? Well, the answer is much like you'd expect: someone who I've never heard of in my life.

Here is the message from some dude named Michael Jose - click to enlarge:

Now it's been a while since I've taken a course in Spanish/English translation, so forgive me that this will not be a professional translation, but this is what Michael Jose wrote to me (with proper grammar and punctuation as much as possible, although it is pretty tricky with MJ's run-on sentences):

"Hello, I been have trying for like half an hour to think of a way to write you a message that wouldn't be really long, and you know what? It's impossible, thousands and thousands of messages with the same ending or the same wording, only to tell you how spectacular you are, but you know what, what I would particularly love to know if this "spectacularness" that you have with your body also is in your personality, because seriously that would be a magnificent surprise to know that a person as magnificent as you are, I'm not looking for anything more than your friendship and please respond to this message if you read it. Well, I could go my whole life writing to you, maybe now I should say goodbye and just wish that someday I will check my email and be surprised to find your response, bye, kisses, if you would like to add me on MSN it is (redacted). Sorry for the sermon."

OK now there is the possibility that this is just some big prank and he's like "oh, I'm going to message the guiri on Tuenti, jejejeje!" "Guiri," by the way, is the word Spaniards use for foreigners as a kind of derogatory word similar to Mexicans calling Americans "gringos." I doubt that, however, seeing how he replied to me again when I sent my response. Either way, this is what I said in response to MJ:

This is how I responded: "How do you know me? Good God, man...I don't remember you, but thanks for the compliments..." and he said "Well the truth is I sent you a message so I could get to know you."

Alas, MJ, it appears we are destined to be star-crossed lovers. You live in the land of delusion (err, Spain), and I live in Southern California. Thanks for playing!

Ah, the technological age.

2011-06-17T13:33:00.004+02:00

Sometimes I lament that I'm living in a technological age where everything is fast-paced and anyone can Google my name and find out where I live, work and any number of things about me - including that I write this blog. That I'm a Libra, listen to opera and jazz music, and I like walks on the beach (wait...um, sure).

Ain't no joke!

Then there are times when I'm just flat-out amazed that we have all this technology at our fingertips, and I wonder what my life would have been like if I had been living in what I imagine was a time when our private information was just that: private. Nobody knew from Adam about where you lived, at least not without finding a phone book in the vicinity of your home. These days, who even has a phone book? I can tell you right now that if a phone book were delivered to me, I'd toss it in the recycling bin and think "why do I need that crap, I have a phone/computer to look up where people live?"

http://theoatmeal.com/comics/minor_differences3

This mindset, of course, spells doom for my chosen profession, in a way. The fact that I decided to become a journalist and write for newspapers perhaps was not a wise one, seeing how no one will buy a newspaper when they can read the news for free online and it's more convenient to just poke through what you want to read rather than having a cumbersome newspaper delivered to you when you might not even read half of it. In fact, even though I am a journalist, sometimes I wonder why my parents have multiple newspapers delivered to them. Why? Why not just read it online without paying the subscription? Of course it's ironic that I think that way, but I can't help thinking this way, given the fact that I'm a "Millennial," as my mother called me the other day when we went out to dinner and I had to check my cell phone several times - a pet peeve of hers.

This whole Death of the Newspaper thing really gets to me, of course, since it is how I chose to pursue my livelihood and it is disintegrating before us, much as any old technology is eventually replaced by a new one. Examples: the printing press replaced hand-written documents, automobiles replaced carriages, films replaced vaudeville, and oh yeah, "video killed the radio star." It ain't no joke.

The fact that I've been able to pursue writing as a career in any capacity is a blessing, really, considering how it is an extremely competitive field, much like any creative field is competitive. I remember when I was in high school I toyed with the idea of pursuing a music degree, but I told myself I lacked the talent, dedication and knowledge to make a go of it, and I didn't want to go ahead with anything knowing off the bat that it wouldn't be my passion and it would be half-assed. I love music and I sing in my car all the time without shame even though my P.O.S. car is totally un-sound proofed. But anyway, I digress.

The point I'm making is I'm conflicted about whether I am happy or not that we live in the age of incredibly advanced technology that shows no signs of becoming even more advanced, probably fulfilling the prophecy of George Orwell's 1984 which first brought up "big brother."

In any case, I've come to accept that we're living in a time where you can Google me and I can Google you. Hey, it comes in handy for my journalism gigs - it makes it much easier to do research when I can type "hyperbaric oxygen benefits" or "Resource Conversation District of the Santa Monica Mountains" into a search engine. I remember when I was in elementary school how excited I would be to look through encyclopedias or Encarta (it was basically the Wikipedia of the '90s, a CD Rom program version of an encyclopedia). These days, it's much easier for me to satiate my unending curiosity about even the most mundane things by typing it in a search engine instead of having to jump through hoops to find the information I want. And I am a highly inquisitive individual, obviously, that's another reason why I chose to become a reporter, because I'm naturally nosy, I guess.

Anyway, I think I'm going to go back to sleep. I've been kept awake with racing thoughts of various things from horses to job searches to apartment searches to even the Casey Anthony trial proceedings. That's my problem and what leads to my insomnia - my mind is always racing and it won't let up. Oh well! Blame it on the technology: it is what helps me derive unending information, and that's what I live for.

...Sidenote: I can't believe I ended that last sentence in a preposition and I'm okay with that. I must be really tired, or just lazy. Maybe both.

"I tell you that I wanna go, but I wanna stay"

2011-02-27T13:51:00.010+01:00

Listen, hark! out in the dark
A mockingbird in the tall oak tree
Busts his throat on a high sweet note
Nobody knows he's there but me.

From "Solitary Singer" by Ahn Trio
Lately I've been indulging one of my greater obsessions, that is, reading about and watching movies dealing with British history. Why? Search me, other than I like the eye candy of the beautiful costumes and looking at the vast differences in culture between modern American society (well, from the places where I've lived, that is) in contrast with the Regency, Victorian or Edwardian periods. Then, of course, the Georgian one(s). There are others, of course (let's not forget my love of all things Henry VIII, more specifically, the wives).

Then I recently saw Winter's Bone, which is another sharp contrast from my obsession with the Brit history. So incredibly bleak, for the majority, anyway. I really found myself with a huge respect for the heroine, the 17-year-old Ree Dolly who is forced to quit high school to care for her catatonically depressed mother and her two younger siblings, while her meth-head dad is off god knows where. The story also reminded me of a Law & Order story, where instead of the NYPD it's a Missouri teenager in the role of detective in a hostile crowd of people who have no inclination to talk, relatives or not. Anyway, I was really glad that the little movie that could got recognition from award committees or else I never would have heard of it.

What else? Oh yeah, I've been writing a lot. Lots of stuff in Malibu, and then some stuff here and there. I've been looking for a gig here, a gig there, shooting my lance freely. Sometimes when I think of freelancing, it seems like a fancy way of saying "yeah, I'm unemployed." Sometimes I wonder if it's called freelancing because it actually means "for free." Truthfully, I'm way too flighty to be dedicated to one place. I'd go insane. Maybe that's why I decided to study a subject that would almost assure I'd be spending my life living in a cardboard box? OK, not really...maybe I'll be the next Stephen King or John Grisham.
...HA.

*Stretch*

Been riding the horse a lot lately, and it has been going well. I've been trying to keep it on the down low, despite wanting to go to the horse shows. Alas, lack of funds and not wanting the horse to be seen and thus more likely being sold keeps my whims in check. Usually. I'm more prone to following my whims than logic, at times, depending on my mood.

It's so fun bringing along the adolescent horses and their progress from week to week. Also, you learn so much more by training a young horse than hopping on a "made" animal. And anyway, I should add that this horse was already, I suppose, installed with the right elements that would ensure he'd be golden if trained properly. Excellent breeding, conformation and health just mean the humans have to be dedicated in order to make the right package. I've been working at it a lot, despite the frustration that pops up from time to time...not to mention the occasional concussion from being bucked off into next year. Seems, though, that unless I pull a Christopher Reeve or have a rotational fall (unlikely) that I'll get back on and tinker around. Not to mention I can be so insanely determined that if I think a challenge is almost too much, I plunge ahead relentlessly in order to get what I want. That's probably what drives me more than anything, my desire to get what I want. Mwahaha!

But yeah. Horse = good. I'll go buy lottery tickets on the off chance I'll be able to get him, myself. :-D

What else? Well, I'm not entirely sure why I'm awake, other than because of insomnia. Oh, that reminds me: I got my blood panel back, and I do not have a jacked up thyroid. I'm healthy as a (GONG) horse. *slaps knee* In fact, my blood panel shows I was within normal range for every category. Not that I wanted to have to deal with hypothyroidism the rest of my life, but it would explain my inability to sleep the night. I shall content myself with the fact that I'm normal as far as my bodily systems are concerned. In the head, well, I can't vouch for that.

I'm bored. I'm gonna go watch some more Pride & Prejudice then possibly sleep.

The End of an (Ambien) Era

2011-02-08T10:41:00.010+01:00

The good doctor (who wears a monocle, at least in my mind) --

has cut me off from my supply of Ambien. Let us bow our heads.

Look, I was asked to model! I figured facing away from the camera in the fetal position would truly convey the angst and suffering of such an affliction.

...Actually, truth be told, I wasn't asked to be the model, I just have a chip on my shoulder that I wasn't given the job. *sulks*

Why is that, doth ye ask? Let me not use words, but this cartoon, to explain:

OK, enough with the freaking pictures. So yeah, no more of them pills. I was getting too whacked out while taking them, since they didn't help me sleep so much as go on some sort of a PG-rated acid trip. I'm often up late at night reading or watching a movie or in the midst of some other time wasting activity, and I'd start seeing things and being in some sort of a trance. Nothing like a talking walrus (shame), just like I was in a snow globe or something and I couldn't see clearly through the fog. It was kind of fun to take the trip into La La Land, but oh well.

Am I a hypochondriac? Oh well. It's fun to say you're afflicted with an odd...affliction. I watch a lot of Intervention, afterall.

Hum dee dum, what else? Oh yeah, speaking of weird illnesses, my cat has something called FORL - Feline Oral Resorptive Lesions. She had some disgusting receding gumline issues and it looked like her molars were disintegrating, somehow, which I was totally unaware of until the vet told me I should be brushing the cat's teeth. Uh, right. Anybody tried to give a cat pills? You're lucky if you can toss something down their gullet, let alone get them to sit patiently while foreign objects are polishing the chompers.
And it gets more dramatic! She had to go in for extractions, so she is now sans 2 of her molars. Poor cat. The good news is that she won't be in as much pain and she can eat around the yanked out teeth; the bad news is its a progressive disease with an undetermined prognosis. Shrug. She's 8 years old, so we'll see what happens.

The equine is doing well. Let's leave it there so I don't get in trouble because of my propensity for overshares for animals I don't own, but merely have the good fortune to ride/help train. =D

I'm fading, too, so it's not like I'm going to say anything that makes much sense.
The end...I'm off to dream of walruses!

Perhaps becoming an agoraphobe.

2011-01-31T09:30:00.003+01:00

Yes, yes, one of those crazies who decides she'd rather live in solitude and never see the light of day.

Actually, The Doc thinks I may have a mild case of hypothyroidism. Huh? Yeah, that's an under-active thyroid. The thyroid controls how the body uses energy (Thanks for providing me with this info, Web MD) Symptoms include fatigue, depression, not being able to crap, and memory problems. I have always had major issues with my short-term memory and it would be just magical to know that there's something I can blame for why I can't remember where I put my keys, or why I'm constantly freaking out at a horse show about learning my courses. I make tiny hand made maps and carry them with me until right about when I go through the in gate.

So now I try to drug myself to sleep at night, but it doesn't really work a lot of the time, no doubt because of my increased tolerance to it. It just makes me slightly chilled out, I become more impulsive, and then my eyes play tricks on me sometimes where it looks like they're dancing or hovering above the screen. It's really not as freaky as it sounds, it's kinda cool. Not that I'm into hallucinating, or anything. It's just a by-product of my predicament.

Oh, and then there's the awesome memory loss of some of the things I've done by the time morning comes around and I'll have 20 emails to respond to from long lost friends who I decided I must chat with. Or old bosses to see how they're doing. Those kinds of weird things that are partially the fault of the Ambien, partially because I am me and prone to impulsivity. I see an opportunity, I want it, I take it. Better to take a risk than not.

Tomorrow I have to get my culo in order to write some more stuff for The Malibu Times. Nothing too terribly exciting - some feature about wine making in Santa Monica and some drain pipes being replaced in Malibu. Then there will be a film screening for Blue Valentine and Biutiful.

Those are two films I'd really like to see. I'm not sure if I'll go see it unles they snag a high profile visitor to chat with the crowd, I hope so! For me, I'd become a 14 year old girl to have a shot at talking to Ryan Gosling.
And It's been a while since I saw a Spanish language film, for real. I mean, I saw "Frida" but that hardly counts. I bet the real Frida Kahlo wouldn't be so pleased that her likeness would speak English. But if she had spoken Spanish and everyone would just be subtitled the whole movie, that wouldn't sell as well, and in the end it's all about the billz. Also, I'd be curious as to her opinion about Salma Hayek taking over her role, when Salma is super sexy and Frida had relentless pain flayed out her whole life. It was kind of blah in the way Frida and Diego interacted. They had the open marriage, but clearly jealousies arise constantly, until the marriage can't be healed when her husband sleeps with Frida's sister. OOh lawd.

I'd really enjoy being a film or stage critic. Everybody hates a critic, they say, wellll.....shrug. I remember thinking way back in high school that it would be such a great way to combine my love of theater and writing. Of course, high schoolers have these ideas of grandeur about what they can do, what they'll see, without all th ework it'll take to even be the lowest on the proverbial totem pole. You could argue I'm not qualified to do either, but I want to. Also, I'm determined when I want something. I'm pretty sure the fan club for reporter isn't that high, either. Odd that someone like me, or is hypersensitive to real or imagined hypersensitivity, would take on a role where you're expected to glean personal information you willingly gave me, then whittle it down further into how I think it sounds best.

So many more films I'd like to see. And of course lots of plays. Not that they're hard to find in LA, but the Broadway and off b'way stuff is much more happenin' in New York.

For now, this will be sufficient for my rambling, at times lacking cohesion/coherence, will end, for mow. For now I attempt to sleepand I hope the word "deeeeeaaaadddddlliiiiiiine" doesn't haunt my dreams. OK, maybe a bit.
Arrivaderci!

Woops, awake.

2011-01-13T12:52:00.002+01:00

"Writers are such private, solitary people. they may become things other than that, but writing almost without exception gets done because of an inward-ness, a sense of privacy that you retain, even though you know that the piece you write may go public. The perspective the writer has on himself or herself seems crucially important to me, regardless of other people's perspectives." -- Ann Beattie in her essay "Melancholy and the Muse"

Sounds like me. Mostly solitary, cynical, content in smaller groups. Or if I'm in a group setting, I'll try to just be with a few people at a time. Shrug. This is how it goes. I'd question it if I cared.

Oh, another part of this essay I found funny was this another part. It's exactly how I feel whenever I sit down and look at my enormous, rambling mountain of notes and transcribed interviews, when I sit down in my non-work clothes in the dead of night to write an article:

"Past writing performance -- at least, in my experience -- counts for little. Neither the routine, nor the triumphs that sometimes results from adhering to that routine, can be depended upon. I have sometimes taken down books I've published from the shelves and been amazed that there was time when I apparently wrote on sentence after another, followed by even more sentences, to form a paragraph. Such an odd activity: needing to simultaneously remember and to forget something in order to bring into focus what did not happen, but might have."

Reading this essay, I almost felt like this woman had tapped into my brain. I found it particularly amusing, the part where she talks about her lack of a solid schedule and working in the dead of night in her underwear. Sounds exactly like me, and it's no wonder I'm an insomniac -- it lends itself nicely to what I like to do, though, doesn't it? I hardly ever write an article during the day. I feel creatively stifled...and man, doesn't that sound pretentious? Shrug.

Moving on.

I have this steel trap memory for the most random things ever said to me. I remember my 6th grade teacher told me next to start a thank you note with the words "thank you" (sorry, Mrs. Albee, I've broken that rule a few times out of laziness). My 10th grade English teacher told me not to start a sentence with "there is/are" because it is an immediate snooze fest for the reader. Again, sorry, Ms. Scobell, broke that rule, too. I remember when I moved to Long Island from Michigan, I wrote a note to her and I didn't include one form of the verb "to be," because of an assignment she had given us where we weren't allowed to use any form of it. Talk about a stretch -- that just meant I'd use "to have" in its various forms, more often.

Another thing that stuck with me -- my 9th grade teacher told me I'd never truly appreciate literature because I told her I was sick of talking about symbols in our assigned books. What possessed me to say that, I don't know, but I tend to speak without editing my thoughts, at times. That really incensed me. I also remember being infuriated when she docked me a point on a spelling quiz because my cursive letter "i" looked like an "e," even though she agreed she could see the dot above it.
Oh, that's another thing -- ever since probably 3rd grade, I've written in cursive unless there's some reason not to, like when a college professor told me my handwriting was hard to read (woops). I read an article about a year back, or so, about how cursive writing is going to be a thing of the past and I thought that someday I'll be that 80 year old who still writes in cursive, like some sort of relic of the past. Granted, my penmanship probably could leave something to be desired, but I don't care too much. As long as we have word processors, there's no need to worry about such things as penmanship (crap, there I am, giving in to the argument I just presented -- oh well).

I'm not sure what the point of this blog entry was meant to be, but oh well. Sometimes ya gotta do what etc.

Ruminations from a sleep-addled brain.

2010-11-10T13:23:00.006+01:00

I tell myself I won't do it, but here, again, I find myself bleary-eyed, sitting in front of a screen. Really, what is there to say at 4:24 a.m, anyway?

It's my blog and I'll write about whateva I wan' if I wan'.

I set my alarm to a reasonable hour so I can wake my culo up and start getting some real work done on an Acorn story I'm writing. Cross your fingers for me, darlings, that it blossoms into something long-term! I used to write for them -- 3 summers intern/freelancing. This time it'd be for real, full time and bennies. Naturally, it sounds just like something I'd want to do. I'm already familiar with how things work and admire the team, and I'd have a lot to learn with their weekly goings on, but I can snap up a new routine easily. Had to do it every time I changed schools as a kid, for one, then moving off to Spain, of course. I like it, though. And I'd like how every day you get to research/write about a new topic. I get bored to tears if I'm stuck in a lather-rinse-repeat type job where I have no sense of self fulfillment or possibility to express myself creatively. That's my bread n' buttah.

Also, starting to get some stuff together for an Elvenstar newsletter. This excites me greatly. I always love throwing together newsletters -- when I was a kid, I put together a newsletter called "Meg's GWTW Mania!" and it was about Trivia/fact/info/polls/etc about Gone With the Wind. Yes, I was a very odd child, but I'm sure no one's shocked about that fact. In the end, my self-started newsletter than could got up to over 100, maybe up to even 200 members. Not half bad for 1998 when the internet was shoddy and finding those kinds of people wasn't as easy. I am relentlessly determined to find what I want, though, when I want it. I suppose that's what fueled the fire in my loins to pursue a journalism career? I've had some bumps along the way, first from going to Spain and then not finding many people hiring, then there's the on/off again nature of writing for Phelps, and Patch is freelance, so I do what I need ta do on that front. It would be awesome, though, to have a FULL time job with ***choirs of angels sing*** benefits!

I don't care about the money as much, because what am I gonna spend it on? Oh that's right -- that pesky cars, insurance, clothes (eek!), and *DRUMROLL* moving out of the parents abode! Not that I'm in a rush, but I enjoy my space. I like making my space the way I like it. After living on my own for 5 years and then regressing back to living at home, it's a buzzkill. Fear not, though, I shall emerge victorious in one form or another, if I have to resort to retail employment, insurance sales....ok, maybe not. *Dry Heaves*

What really takes the cake for burning through dollar bills like a lighter being hit with hairspray is riding horses. UGh....I've had it up to here, I tell ya. Needless to say, I'm po' fo' sho'. I have a mind to take a chunk of cardboard and I'd put "JOURNALIST WILL WRITE FOR FOOD" and I'll just hang out with it on the roadside.

Life's pretty good, though. Just anxious about job stuff, as ever, and trying to make the best of the stuff I already have to work on. The lease I have with Opus is ending next week and I'm going to lease Jim's horse, Lincoln, until he sells. As for the past lease horses I've ridden, my track record is they sell about 4-5 months after I start riding them, but who knows what will happen. I'm just excited to have the opportunity to ride what seems to be a fabulous up and coming hunter. Such a slow, round jump, and I love that he's totally unflappable. He's gonna make a very fancy hunter. I'm already jealous of his future owner. Now I'm just grateful Jim's letting me ride/train the 5 y/o imported warmblood. Those European ones, man, they get the job done. I now understand "workhorse" because that's what they ship in from Europe!

Henley riding Lincoln a few months ago -- check out that ROUND jump on him. You can't tell in the pic, but he's also very slow in the air, and rather high over the top of the jump. Makes for some nice photo op's.

Aaaanyway...it has now reached (Merciful Mary *signs the cross*) 4:50 a.m. Time to say Hail Mary's...those also put me to sleep.
Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen (repeat 10 x and I'll be face planted in my drool-covered pillow).

Buonna notte, tutti!

Guess who's po' fo' sho?

2010-09-22T10:37:00.004+02:00

This is one of the tests I had to take for a job as a proofreader at a financial firm: a typing speed test. I typed 101 words per minute; hence, I am awesome. And modest. Hey, I have to type fast to do phone interviews and type at about the rate of human speech (at least in shorthand if nothing else). I would've been an awesome stenographer back in the 1920s. Bahaha...I have lofty aspirations.

Now for something completely different, and amusing/or sad.

Well if it's at that bargain price, I'll take two!!!

...In what warped world is this considered normal? Maybe for the top .05% income bracket. Sigh.

One more unrelated thing, just to make this interesting: am I the only person I know who isn't engaged/or married at the age of 24? Jesus Christ on a bicycle, what's wrong with me? I mean, don't get me wrong -- I have absolutely no desire to tie myself down, nor do I consider myself ready, but it does give me pause. My mom was married and had a kid on the way by my age. My grandma had already had three daughters by the time she was my age, and two years later, she had her fourth.

On the flipside, I'm only 24 god-forsaken years old. There is no justifiable reason why I need some dude to put a ring on it, yet, especially if I'm not ready. For one thing, who wants to end up on the wrong side of the divorce statistic? Not I. I remember my dad said the one most important decisions a person can make is "spousal selection," so I wouldn't take that choice lightly. I think more people should focus on, say, the marriage instead of a wedding; however, I will admit this doesn't stop me from watching girly shows about weddings such as "Platinum Weddings" or "My Fair Wedding by David Tutera" or "Say Yes to the Dress," and even occasionally I'll watch "Bridezillas" if I'm feeling particularly like watching trash TV. It's all a circus. The "wedding industry" makes billions every year, and to me that's kind of pathetic. I wonder how much divorce attorneys make per year?

Oh, am I too cynical? *Shrug* I won't deny that claim. It's true. But here's a quote to cap off this "life is ridiculous" post: Behind every cynic is a disappointed idealist. Alternatively, I've heard this quote: Remember, beneath every cynic there lies a romantic, and probably an injured one.

A great mind never rests! ...or something

2010-09-16T12:03:00.007+02:00

For reasons unknown, I feel the burning desire to write in my sadly neglected blog while I am deliriously tired and my vision is slightly blurred, but hey, them's the breaks.

Turns out my foray into the job search is a tricky, bumpy road. It's tricky when you are so obviously under- or overqualified for many of the positions you read about, it makes for some low morale in even trying to look. I even looked into training as a court reporter, which I would love. I'm a huge dork about any and everything Law & Order, and I'm fascinated by criminal justice. I'd love the chance to report about that, specifically, since it would give me access to all the nitty gritty things I want to learn. *Squee* Even the thought of being trained makes me feel like I'm some sort of demented hamster in a wheel.

The point, though, is that it's somewhat discouraging when you have to go back to school in order to get a job that isn't something I'm outrageously overqualified to do.. Good news is I souped up my resume, once again, so it looks mighty fine.

And she's lookin' like a beaut. Hire me? *puppy dog eyes*

What else is new - well, every time I write in here I wonder about the whole internet privacy thing. Like if someone reads stuff about me are they going to know more than they should and yadda yadda. Hard to say. I'd say for most people, their unique personality won't hinder their job performance, unless of course we're referring to drugs getting in the way, or party lifestyle taking away from their work ethic. Shrug. What bothers me more is sending an email to one person and then when it's on the other person's email account, s/he can control if anybody else is going to see it. Hmm...

Sometimes, no...often, I'll wish I was born in another era. I dunno when, precisely, I just don't quite feel like the age of iPods and flat screens and WiFi and over-medicating the world is the answer. Back to the point, the whole issue about internet safety just boggles my mind. It takes me back to kindergarten, when our counselor came to the classroom and put on a little show about not talking to strangers or getting into their car and such. Don't talk to strangers...hm...now I write a blog for all to see. Mwahaha! And is it narcissism? Well, I'd say not, seeing how while blogs ain't that old, there have always been feature writers, columns in papers, and the like. And, of course, books! "Primitive versions of the DVD" (Sex & the City). That's what I like to do. Read! I'm kind of crazy with reading, but sometimes I'll get in a slump where I don't read as much and I develop a bond with Netflix instant viewing, instead.

Makes me wonder what it would've been like to grow up in, say, the 20s-40s, where the main multimedia entertainment outlets were vaudeville at first, then radio or phonograph. Then the movies, usually black and white, but hey, the addition of sound was quite welcome (after some hiccups). TV still didn't even come around for a good 10 years. No cell phones, either. When I was a little kid, I remember having to stop at a pay phone and call somebody when you get some place or pull over along the way if you wanted to touch base. Now we're all spoiled with our texting and tweeting craze and BS.

This has left out another point I wanted to touch on -- clothing. I love retro 30-40s style glam. I've always loved clothes. And the body types of women were much different than they are now, too.

Jean Harlow really knew how to flaunt it to the max and was slick as can be. She was the original blonde bombshell before Marilyn, before Madonna, before all the other wannabes. Shame that she died in her twenties from uremic poisoning.

And geez, even in the past 15 years, attitudes have changed. Go rent "Clueless" and you'll see there has even been a change in what's a sexy body type since then. Alicia Silverstone definitely had some curves. Not curves in the "oh you're not fat you're curvy!" BS that makes all the real curvy and non tubs of cellulite women shy away from the term (ahem...myself), but literally, the flattering, and HEALTHY female frame. And let's be serious, the girl was probably a size 6. If only...

That body type would be one I'd aspire to have. Psh, I know I couldn't be a ruler of 10% body fat, so I'll set realistic goals. I'd rather aspire to those goals than resign myself to a slow descent into eventually becoming Jabba the Hutt.

Good Lord, only I could somehow segue from Alicia Silverstone to Jabba the Hutt. And it ain't gonna happen, the Jabba look, that is. No sir.

I feel as though I contradict myself now and again in here, but I chop that up to lack of sleep with a dash of delirium, so who's to say. In any case, I can be pretty fickle at times, what with being a libra. Oh I know, roll your eyes at the astrology thing. Hehe.

Not to mention the fact that this post started on an entirely different topic than how it ended. No, I don't have ADD, just a case of the sleepies. Time to hit the sheets, this is attempt numero....I dunno. We'll see if it's successful. Wish me luck in my noble quest.

Derelict of Duty

2010-08-25T09:23:00.002+02:00

Should I cut my hair?

Resident of Blog Town, USA

2010-07-01T10:35:00.008+02:00

Why hello, faithful readers (all 5 of you). Long time since I've posted a life update, from the looks of it, so here goes nothin'.

Life ain't half bad, these days. Although it has taken lots of effort to get writing jobs since I got home from Spain last summer, I'm pleased to say all that persistence paid off. The problem with getting writing gigs is you need clips to get a job and you need a job to get clips, so it's a catch 22 situation. Networking is the way to get noticed, too, because sending out emails to random people generally is a no-go situation.
Then, of course, the economy can bite you in the rear when you know you can contribute. Exhibit A: The Acorn newspaper, where I wrote for 3 summers in a row (2 as an intern, one as freelance) wouldn't take me back because they were firing not hiring. Sad face. But if there's one thing I am, it's stubborn, relentless, and unwilling to give up when I know I'm right. Geez, even if I think I'm wrong, I will go out of my way to prove otherwise. Debate skillz, I haz them. My plan is to go back to The Acorn office, brings my new clips, my updated resume, and have a chit chat with the managing editor or one of the editors I worked with, before, and hitch myself back to that wagon. I really enjoy writing the local stuff, and for the weekly newspapers, especially. The way I write, I like to let things simmer in the backburner of my brain rather than turn something around instantaneously. I mean, I can do both, but there's a method to my madness.

Writing for PhelpsSports.com has been a lot of fun. I've been going to Blenheim EquiSports events almost exclusively, and I just love their management.

VIP table (hehe!) at the last World Cup qualifier

A Blenheim banner in the Grand Prix field

It has been awesome getting to meet all these top riders, course designers, and trainers. Not only has it been great to write about what happens, but I've been using my inquisitive nature to pick their brains about just about anything. Lesson #1: people love to talk about themselves (exhibit A: this blog). I use that to my advantage when I'm talking to people and I try to form relationships where I can go back to the same people over and over again. Try, anyway. Yep. Certain riders, in particular, have been extremely helpful in helping me learn the ropes of how the Grand Prix are run, what the courses are like (I have a new-found respect for course designers), and just so many things that it would take a novel to discuss them all.

Olaf Petersen Jr.'s course for the $50,000 Orange County Register CSI-W Grand Prix

A nice side effect of covering all these events is all that I've learned has reflected in my own riding, because more insight about the sport and the horses themselves has been a huge help. Knowledge can't be underestimated in terms of personal improvement, is what I've found. I'm probably not ever gonna be a top rider (for one, lack of funds is gonna hold that dream back), but this writing stuff is at least a way to learn more, since I love horses. I can't see giving up horses even if I go bankrupt. What I may lack in talent I make up for as best I can with dedication.

Jennifer Crooks interview after she won first and second place in the $35,000 Spring Classic III Grand Prix

Susie Hutchison and Cantano, winning the $30,000 June Classic Grand Prix

A horse with a huge forelock from Hap Hansen's barn

Oh yeah, that's another thing. Trying to get more and more independent, which isn't always the easiest thing. My next goal is to move out of the 'rents house, which is gonna be huuuge overhaul into the way I've been living for the past year. It has been awesome not paying rent, mooching off the free food, mooching in lots of ways...but it really leaves me missing my independence from the 5 years I spent on my own in college and then in Spain when I was almost totally cut off from parental guidance in how I lived my life. I almost feel as though I've regressed from moving back in their house, like I'm willing to just slip back into being looked after, and I guess that's fine, but it's not as satisfying when I can live by myself. I'm also a really solitary person -- I like to be on my own, have my own space, decorate my own place, all that junk. So having my own place or at least sharing it with roommates will be a welcome change. I have to look into that soon, but I can't really afford crap right now since SoCal has to be the most expensive place in the US, which is another heap of discouragement. Bleh.

Hmmm, not the most uplifting way to end this blog entry, but nobody ever said I was a ball of sunshine. Life is good® overall, though. Hooray for that.

Eulogy for Grandma

2010-06-21T11:09:00.001+02:00

My grandma was a strong willed woman, but she had a soft heart. That's something I'd like to say I've inherited from her. That, and her love of writing and reading anything she could get her hands on.

Anyway, let me begin -- In 1999, my grandma finally made it to Ireland, where her family is originally from. She was too nervous and thought it would be too bold to introduce herself to her relatives there, the closest being a first cousin once removed (in English, her father's cousin). Her name is Mary Daly, by the way, and she lives in Cahersiveen in County Kerry, Ireland, and I've had the good fortune to have met her. She has to be the sweetest woman anyone has ever met, so it's really sad my grandma never had the chance to meet her face to face, although they did correspond through snail mail letters once they did finally connect. Luckily, my great aunt Liz met her when she went to Ireland. And my grandma did get the chance to meet one of Mary Daly's children, Bernadette, who I have met, as well. Bernadette and my grandma are actually quite similar, in my mind. For one, they both use the word "lovely," which kind of makes me smile. "Lovely" is as common a word as "great" to Americans, in Ireland, is what I thought.

Let's go further back (ahem): my grandma's grandma (my great-great grandmother) was the one who emigrated from Ireland, in the late 1800s. Bridget Moriarty was her name, as a matter of fact. As a result, grandma grew up hearing about County Kerry, Ireland, where Bridget was born. My great-grandpa Parker, her son, was born in the USA, though, in the early 1900s. He married my great-grandma Elizabeth O'Keefe, then, in the 1920s. They were absolutely crazy for each other. They ended up having four children, and my grandma was the oldest. After her were Tom, Jerry, and Elizabeth AKA Betty Ann. Fourteen years separate the siblings.

Even though grandma was a caretaker, that’s not the only quality of hers that’s worth mentioning. She was a strong-willed woman, and I know she wouldn't want me to stand here and cry while I pay tribute to her, so I'm drumming up courage from her strength to help me.

Back to what I was saying, I met my Irish relatives in 2009. After my trip, I called my grandma long-distance, from where I was living, in Spain. I was a bit nervous to call my grandma, if only because I hadn’t spoken to her in months apart from the postcards I sent her whenever I could. I last saw her at my brother Patrick's wedding. Luckily for me, she was rather upbeat at the time and my spirits lifted to hear the excitement apparent in her voice by hearing my voice. She was thrilled to hear about my time in Ireland, and more than happy to give me her own details about the Parker family, seeing how I never got the opportunity to meet my great grandpa Parker and I barely remember my great grandma Parker, even though she lived to be 96 and she died only 6 years ago. She gave me the details about her current situation at home and with the family, but she seemed more interested in hearing about my life. She was equally eager to share with me any details I asked about the Parker family and her fond memories of her parents and her Irish grandmother. My Great Aunt Betty Ann was equally generous in providing details about the Parker family, I should probably add. Anyway, during that phone call, grandma and I ended up talking for a long time, and I remember even volunteering information to her about my life that she was open to discuss. That's one of the things that I loved about her, was you could springboard an idea off her and she didn't seem to be too fazed by much, she'd give her thoughts and even offer to say a prayer for me.

Sadly, that was the last time I got to chat with G'ma. That's literally how I referred to her when I'd write her, "g-ma," which she seemed to think was funny, seeing how she laughed at that on the phone when she brought it up. I never had nicknames for my grandparents like "nana" or anything silly, that was just what I wrote out of laziness and to fit "Dear Grandma and Grandpa" at the top of a postcard.

Well, that's a brief run through about my thoughts of my grandma. I know I didn't see her all that much compared to the rest of my aunts, uncles and cousins seeing how she lived in Chicago and I've been a rolling stone, but I did gather moss because I'm a member of this family that others may envy. In any case, we'll miss her.
Rest in peace, grandma. We love you.
1933-2010

Yawn/stretch

2010-04-19T14:29:00.005+02:00

Maybe my brain just refuses to rest, because it seems like I have a two-hour maximum that I can comfortably sleep before I wake up. Then I go back to sleep during the day, whenever possible, like some sort of crazed insomniac/narcoleptic.

Life hasn't been half bad. This weekend, specifically, was super busy. I went to cover more stories for the Blenheim Spring Classic III in San Juan Capistrano, for PhelpsSports.com.

My press pass/lanyard

The opportunity to write and have my name on a byline again is really satisfying. I had to blow the dust off my tape recorder that I use for interviews, I almost forgot the fun of the ping pong between the reporter and the interviewee where I wait for the perfect quote to turn on a light bulb in my mind. It's a game of luck and skill, because some people are just better spoken than others, and sometimes I don't ask the best questions so it's no surprise I end up with patchy answers. Also, I like to have more interviews than I may need because it's much easier to widdle down a too-long story than one where I have little info about what happened.

The stories I covered this weekend were the Hunter Derby and another $35K Grand Prix. The next show I'm planning to cover is in Del Mar, another Blenheim show. It's under the same umbrella as the Oaks, but there are different photographers, specific staff, et. al. All part of the fun, though, seeing how I like the constant change and lack of routine involved. Clearly some parts are constants, like the Grand Prix at "AA" shows, but the faces of both horse and human switch up all the time. I've already met so many riders, course designers and trainers than I ever thought I would, but there are still so many more out there I'm ready to meet. I just have to bide my time until our schedules intersect.

Next show is in San Diego, the Showpark Ranch & Coast Tournament starting May 11th.

As for non-work, my hand is still "ehh."

A few weeks back, I wore the splint over my gloves

I was warned there'd be good and bay days, and ain't it the truth. It's frustrating because you can't not use your hand, or at least I'm much more aware of that fact now that it's still healing. The worst pain comes from pushing or pulling any amount of weight with my left hand, so I try to avoid that. Also, I have a habit of resting my chin in my hand and that can aggravate it. I've found that if I lift an object in a particular way then I completely avoid the injury site.

Here's where the screws are, exactly, holding the break in place and realigning the displaced metacarpal bones.

Closing my fingers is still a challenge, though, at times, and my hand will either shake like I have Parkinson's (tendon trauma) or just feel generally stiff/sore. Now I also have to be aware of the scar, and not just for the aesthetic reasons. Scar tissue is both underneath the incision wound and above it, so I have to massage the scar so it remains pliable and I have further range of motion. Not only that, I have to keep it out of the sun as much as possible and keep it warm and moisturized. Every other night I use a heating pad on my hand for 15 minutes and then use vitamin E oil to massage the scar, then I do my physical therapy. PT includes stretching the affected fingers, making a "hook" fist and then a real fist, and tapping my fingers. Obviously typing doesn't bother me anymore, which is a welcome relief, since I'm always clacking away at the keyboard for some reason or another.

I'm back to riding, although I don't lease a horse and that might not happen again for awhile, unfortunately. Luckily, my trainer is nice enough to allow me to ride his 7-year-old Hanoverian gelding/equitation horse, so that's what I'll be doing. His name is Elton and he's cute. At first I thought maybe a bit funny looking face, but it has grown on me, like a mother who is aware her baby isn't cute. A bit shy on the ground, but he already seems to be gaining trust in me, which is always a good feeling w/ naturally skittish animals like horses. Horses are just like people in regards to personality, moods and work ethic. It all can be molded and trained to an extent, but what's naturally there, talent-wise, is what you take and run with it.

Elton

I have to wear my splint while I ride to protect my hand from further injury

OK I'm gonna attempt sleep again while the sun's still down...Yaaaaaawn.

Monthly update

2010-04-03T12:50:00.002+02:00

I saw the movie Julie & Julia, the other day, where the Julie character writes a cooking blog based on her experience doing all the recipes in Julia Child's cook book "Mastering the Art of French Cooking." It reminded me that oh yeah, I have my own blog.

Just finished writing my 2nd story for PhelpsSports.com. I put the hyperlink there so you will go and sign up for an account. But um, sorry it's not free... but hey, is that Cosmo subscription you have free? Sports Illustrated? Insert-publication-here?? No. The point is, ya can't expect people like me who are broke to make dollah billz without some money going into a publication.

Yawn. I'm trying to come off as diplomatic and failing miserably, but oh well.

Life is pretty good right now due to the recent addition of gainful employment into my life. I go crazy when life becomes to idle. Crazy in that I'll feel catatonic and bored, that kinda thing. The best part about my new job is that not only is it something to do, but it's something I enjoy. I can still push myself to do something I don't like, such as cleaning my room. OK I won't lie, my room is in a state of disarray 90% of the time, but that's not the point. Shh! The point is that I have this insatiable need to do the best I possibly can if I really enjoy something. So far writing these stories takes a whole lot of research and fact checking and sometimes/or often I get the feeling that I'm a fraud because I'm not a good enough rider to be writing about things as advanced as Grand Prix, but hey, so far I've gotten positive feedback. The general consensus about writers or any profession that is creatively-driven is that you can always improve.

I would go into further detail about this, but I'm about to pass out on my keyboard and I'd rather not wake up with something like "ASDFFFDFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFf" on my screen when I wake up. Now I shall go to sleep, i.e. hibernation.

Good news & bad news

2010-03-05T08:59:00.004+01:00

Good news = I have a new job (YAY). Job = writing for PhelpsSports, an equestrian news web site, and submitting articles about Grand Prixs in the area. Hooray! I've been hoping to get back into some type of writing job and finding it nigh impossible to snag something in the news field because of the impending doom facing newspapers. Free newspaper access online killed the newspaper subscription (star). Sigh. Oh well, this equestrian gig is much more my speed, anyway, and now I'll be able to write about something that really caters to my interests, not to mention I'll be able to meet riding big wigs, something that's making me extremely anxious, since I've been looking up to these riders since...forever. Oh well, I'm not shy about asking questions (anybody who knows me can attest to the fact that I'm inquisitive or just plain nosy). :-D
My first assignment will be for the next Grand Prix at San Juan Capristrano. I already did some research about who rode in the same class from last year and the past few years, and it's been relatively small, ~15 people or fewer. That's a relief, seeing how an enormous Grand Prix class would totally overwhelm me for my first assignment. I'm not too nervous about the whole gathering of info, I've always dorked out to the extreme at these events by writing down scores/time, even the course + jump off so I can follow along and spot where the inside turns are or things of that nature. What's going to be tough is knowing what questions to ask these creme de la creme riders and not just staring at them, dumb-struck and in shell shock. I also have this embarrassing tendency to turn beet red when I'm feeling self conscious or, y'know, embarrassed, so I guess I'll have to just figure out a way to grow a pair and get over it, pretend I'm wearing invisibility glasses or whatnot.

Bad news = my hand is broken...ouchies. I keep hearing all these medical mumbo jumbo details about it: displaced, oblique, spiral fracture of the 4th metacarpal. Aderrr. Alls I know is it needs surgical intervention, ain't that grand? That'll teach you to ride horses like an idiot, speaking of equestrian endeavors. What happened, to explain it again (groannnn) -- I was just doing dinky warm up jumps and I thought I saw the long distance (that's where the horse takes off, for non-riders), so I prepped to jump too early (another riding term: jumping ahead), and Z couldn't jump because I had too much of the weight of my upper body leaning on his neck. He jumped it a stride later, though, and I completely fumbled with my balance as we were landing and as I went to right myself, the back of my left hand hit his neck at apparently high velocity and I heard a loud SNAP, and thus my hand was a-broken. At first I thought the noise I heard was the popping noise you hear when you crack your knuckles, no big deal, so I laughed along with everybody else in the arena at my stupid mistake and just ignored what I figured was a sprain. I did one more jump and decided the pain was way too strong to ignore, especially since I couldn't hold my reins and my hand was shaking like a leaf. Well, Jenny (trainer) felt my hand and it didn't seem normal, so I decided to get off and let the guys take care of Z while I drove myself one-handedly over to the ER. At that point I was holding out hope that I was wasting my time and it was just a sprain, but, obviously it wasn't. Sigh.
To add to this headache, my insurance expired -- wait for it -- THREE. DAYS. before I broke my hand, and even though I called to get it renewed that night, they're not going to cover it because they consider it a pre-existing condition. Groannnn. So all the fees for my hand: ER, hand rehab, hand surgeon, pre-op physical, pain med's, post-op checks? Those are all going to be out of pocket. For the first couple days after I knew I broke my hand I was a weepy mess because I thought my riding/showing "career" (ha-ha that's a good one) would be over as I knew it, because all told, this hand stuff is going to cost thousands of dollars. *Deep breath* Let me repeat that: Thouands....thousands...of. Dollars. THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS. OK I'm gonna start hyperventilating, must contain myself. Phew...

So, that's the bad news. The really bad news. Trying to just deal with it. I mean, the doc gave me the option of just splinting it and then no surgery, but that comes with a lot of disadvantages, namely, my hand would heal poorly and I'd have constant pain for the rest of my life. Yeah..that might be appealing in the short term because it would mean I could do more riding because the hand stuff would cost less, but I don't really want to have the hand of an eighty year old by the time I hit 30. So what am I doing, doth ye ask, mine readers? Well, I'm going to have to go under the knife (yes), and have "open hand surgery." Say what? Well, they have to go in and realign the metacarpal bone and put screws in the spot where it's displaced (that means there's a space between where the bone should be in a straight line). The bone is also broken on a long diagonal line ("oblique"), and the pins will help it heal faster. The "spiral" element means the bone is twisted, corkscrew style, and it's somehow pulling on the tendons in an unnatural way. Something like that...I'm not a doctor, Jim.
After the surgery I'll be in a cast for ~ a month, but the doc told me it takes ~ 3 months for the bone to be "as healed as it ever will be." The funny part is that the screws I'll get in surgery won't ever be removed, they'll just be chillin' there fo' life and I'll literally be a bionic woman. I asked the doc if that means I'll set off airport metal detectors and he said it'll be smaller than a ring and only a bit larger than a filled tooth, so it shouldn't be a problem. He said this with a face indicating I was an idiot for asking, so if you wondered the same thing, then I would like to tell you that you are an idiot, as well.

I guess that's the bulk of what's new in my life. Despite the new job, I'm still going to need another job to supplement my income since these events I'll cover only happen a couple times a month. We'll see how easily that'll come, I still have my worries because of the economy. I don't care what I'll do for a short-term job, really, as long as it's full-time, preferably with benefits, but I don't want to hope for too much...shmeh. We shall see. Stay tuned.

I never know what to say for the blog titles.

2010-02-25T08:36:00.003+01:00

Delved into a new hobby: writing fiction. A certain subset, mwahaha, but we won't get into that. I'm finding that the most difficult part is writing believable dialogue. All I've ever written is nonfiction. I always pushed the envelope with Associated Press style with my articles, but it was never really outside the box of the rigid style journalists have to adhere to (i.e. inverted-pyramid, anecdotes, quotes from at least 3 sources, typically 500 words per article, etc). Now that I'm left without those guidelines, I feel a bit too free. One of my problems is that I have trouble making decisions unless I have goals and guidelines, so this is pretty difficult. The part that is making it easier is doing a LOT of reading up on similar stories that I want to emulate and writing my detailed outlines. I find that once I write an outline and do any necessary research that whatever story I've set out to tell will write itself. See, already I take the journalist's approach of gathering information, assessing what I have, and then going from there. The problem here is that now I'm totally confused because I have no experience to fall back on in this arena. Once I have all my interviews transcribed and my research completed, writing a 500-word article is cake. This is totally different and daunting. I have a bajillion mini stories floating around my lap top just to get my feet wet, but this whole beginning-middle-end, omniscient 3rd person narrator, rounding out the characters, giving the proper setting...man, it just never ends. My dream would be to a) just finish a god-forsaken story and then b) put it online on a free web site and see if it gets attention/comments, and then c) maybe if it's good enough, get paid.

Recently, I discovered the beauty of the "e-book." Literally, you just write a book and pay a fee to a hosting site and get commission for the sales of your e-books, which buyers read in an online-friendly format. It's way less hassle than finding a publisher and promoting yourself that way, because anybody can say they have an e-book if they pay a hosting site, it's just a matter of getting enough sales to make it worth your while. The whole self-promotion thing is a bit of a head scratcher, but one idea for that is posting free stories on free hosting web sites and putting up information about your longer e-books that can be purchased. That would be an ideal move for me, because I'm such a writing/reading junkie and it's something that I can do on my own time without a boss. There are certainly editors you can find online, though, really easily. I've already contacted a few of them and I've even volunteered my own editing services to others. Editing is another job I enjoy, mainly because it kills me to see the frequent grammatical errors floating around, especially online, where ppl talk like this lol. PET. PEEVE. The occasional use of "Net Lingo" doesn't bother me, but when people talk exclusively in shorthand I just want to set myself on fire. I certainly have my own weaknesses in my writing, but when I see flagrant disregard for my beloved language, I get irritated.

Anyway, we'll see if this whole making-money-at-writing dream pans out. Wish me luck on my noble quest.

Bloggy McBloggerson

2010-02-22T07:49:00.002+01:00

Oh look, I hath returned to Ye Olde Blog. If I had as much motivation to write mindless tripe in other areas of my life, I would be quite successful.

For some reason, I've been dorking out and following the Olympics as much as possible. I hardly know anything about hockey, but I've even watched that. What I know about hockey comes from my scant knowledge of polo. Yes, polo on a horse, not water polo, to clarify. Now there's a sport I'd like to do -- polo, not hockey, let's be serious. Then again, I don't exactly have the polo rider physique (or even hunter/jumper physique, woops). What I'd really need is much more upper body strength, and if you take a look at my arms you'll notice they resemble those of a T Rex (i.e. scrawny). I've had the chance to tinker with polo before, namely during my first job when I was 15 and I took care of a bajillionaire's polo horses. And the barn where I rode, at the time, had a rep for polo teams using the facilities. One of our outdoor rings was even referred to as the polo field because the gates were high enough for the ball to smack into it at high speeds. I also got to exercise some polo horses on the side, and those animals are totally different from the frou frou of hunter/jumper show horses. For one, they're tiny, powerful, have no mane and a cropped tail, and they stop and turn on a dime. They also have less of a spook, generally. Oh, and polo is one of the most expensive sports you can do probably right up there with yacht racing. Yeah.

Anyway, what caused that tangent? Who knows. My mind is a mystery to me.

Speaking of horse endeavors, it's going...yeah. It's going. This weekend's show will be filed under "a learning experience" (groan). I get all worked up about my nerves, patchy show experience in the past decade, nonexistent memory, and then having to work at training a green animal and wondering if I'm even qualified for something like that. Whatever, I do my thang. Luckily the horse I'm riding is totally game and brave, jumping from any distance imaginable and putting in an absurd effort to clear a jump that you'd think must be on fire for him to be clearing it so high. So what he lacks in experience is compensated by willingness to do whatever. Well, mostly...And when I start to get frustrated with all the aforementioned things, then I'll get seethingly jealous when another trainer inquires about Z being for sale. I get all indignant that I've done so much work and it'll all be meaningless. Back when I had my own horse it was always awesome if another trainer would compliment the animal that carted me around, now I dread hearing anything. I know, I know, grow a pair and get over it. It's a business, yadda yadda. I just need to complain.

What else? Oh, y'know, life is fab. My daily perusal of the news is hampering my desire to plunge ahead in the job search, when you hear about home foreclosures and how writing jobs are nonexistent. I guess that's the case with any of those right-brained, creativity-driven jobs though, even in a bangin' economy. People always seem to revel in telling you you'll never make it as a ____ because of the competition. Well, those people can shove it. Ain't nothin' gonna break my style, ain't nothin' gonna hold me down, oh no, I got to keep on movin'.

Other: my knee is still out of whack, hyperextended. It pops sometimes when I walk. Who knows what that's about, but let me tell you that it's not the most pleasant feeling when you stretch in the morning and your knee gives out a shriek of pain. I will continue to complain about this situation until this ends.

OK I am now off like a prom dress. Bye bye for now, blog.

Zebras

2010-02-04T11:22:00.003+01:00

I'm not sure if it's just because of the equine connection, but I've been loving the zebra print fad, lately, and let me clarify that I usually hate fads. I also hate leopard print, usually...I don't know what the deal is. This puzzles me greatly, actually. Shrug.

Still at one of those life crossroads things. This troubles me. I'm one of those people who can't make a decision to save my life, so it's difficult to choose what I want to do and how to pursue it in the most efficient way. I'm determined as #*)%, so I know that pretty much whatever I want (in reason) can be achieved. I've done it befo'. So in the meantime, I have to work on pinpointing where and what I want to do and then going for it gung-ho and then saying a prayer to the Atheist gods that the economy won't obliterate my chances of getting what I want. It's annoying that most jobs I find are a near-fit, but I'm usually either over- or under-qualified.
Then there's also the location issue -- I went to college 3000 miles away from home and then after I graduated I went 10,000 miles away from home, now I just wanna stay put for awhile. It occurred to me that Ventura County isn't where I want to be, long-term, but I don't exactly know what sounds ideal, either. Hrmph.

Something needs to pan out with my writing endeavors. I have several writing projects on my lap top that I've been doing just for something to do, but I haven't pursued getting them published. I also haven't done much in the way of cold calling to offer my writing skillz, partly because I'm being lazy and then there's the fear that I won't be taken on and that would be a royal slap in the face because I'm a rejection-phobe. *Deflates*

Horse stuff is going fairly well. It would be going better if I had more funds to do more stuff and snag an animal to ride long-term, but ya can't always get what you want. Y'know what would be nice? If I could buy a dirt cheap animal (I'm talking a couple thou) and then training that bad boy up and selling him. Nah...right now that sounds like a fool's errand. I remember one of the horses I rode in NY, Trilby, was what If Only Farm called "Sue's Folly," because she was super expensive, but hardly anybody could ride her because she was such a pain in the keester, so she never got sold. Mares can be a real piece of work -- add in the thoroughbred factor and a wicked temper and you have the trifecta of yuckery. Then again, I got Trilby to like me, so neener-neener. Only one other rider got her to go around well, and that was a quasi-pro who trained at IOF and took her to Harrisburg in the A/A Hunters. So yeah -- if someone tells me something can't be done, I make it my mission to prove otherwise. Because I'm a *bleep* and it gives me a delicious sense of schadenfreude, I suppose. Well, anyway, I'll admit I didn't fit her very well, seeing how she was *maybe* 16 hands and I'm 5'9" with junk in the trunk, but hey, she had a massive barrel and suitability isn't the be-all, end-all for adult amateur hunters. Also, no match is perfect, even if you spent 7 figures, the animal can go permanently lame and you're out all that $. I mean, take a look at a horse's legs at some point -- they're super long and spindly and they're holding up an animal that weighs as much as a car. They also land from large jumps at high velocity, so there's that, too.

Somebody told me a week or so ago that horses aren't meant to be ridden. He said it might've been necessary back when they were essential for transportation, but that anybody who rides a horse these days is just making the animal into a mindless plaything and should just join the circus. After I told this person that I couldn't continue the argument because I was busy eating a veal sandwich and I was off to go hunting in my mink coat, I actually thought about this. After dorking out and doing more research and going over the bajillions of coffee table books I've collected over the years, I've determined that there's a valid point in the "you shouldn't ride a horse" statement, but that it's not necessarily cruel. True, there's abuse. There are idiots who don't know what they're doing and don't realize there's a delicate balance in what is appropriate for each individual animal and that one size doesn't fit all. Then there's the fact that domesticated horses have their needs micromanaged, from food, supplements, medical attention, shoes, teeth, exercise, and of course aesthetics for the show horses. Training horses, also, is a lot of work for horse/rider, but it's not abuse if it's done correctly. Using things like whips/spurs also can be done effectively -- after all, not correcting something an animal does wrong and then deciding to beat the %*)% out of him after the 20th time only confuses the animal and therein lies the abuse, amirite? Yep. I am right. I win, QED. I have more to say on this subject, but shmeh. Later.

OK I just realized I'm tired. Imma go read and perhaps wake up for a game plan for my life. Wish me luck.

Living with a Type B Personality

2009-12-01T08:15:00.002+01:00

Hazards include: throwing dry-clean only sweaters in the wash (resulting in doll clothing post-drying), hitting the snooze button 30 times, being late to everything, being a lazy mofo in general. Except for when I want something, then I kick my motivation into hyperdrive.

Yawn.

Worked around 40 hours at VS last week, it was almost as though I have a real job.

Speaking of ~ I got a call from Ithaca College, my alma mater, a few hours ago. I raised an eyebrow when I got a call from my home phone, since that never happens -- and of course it was a call asking for donations. I'm sorry, but I'm curious how the communications school gets these massive alumni donations. One thing I do know is that if we were to examine the statistics of the high roller donors, they don't come from the 20-something demographic and they sure as hell don't come from journalism grad's. Sigh. Even when I did have my last journalism gig, I made $40 a story, which is pitiful. The amount of work, blood/sweat/tears (and any other bodily fluid?) and energy put forth in writing news isn't proportionate to the payoff. Literally speaking, of course.

Solution is to take some other path -- luckily a J degree can be applied to many different fields...right? Mlehhhh.

Seems like all I do in this blog, post-Spain, is bitch & moan about my lack of meaningful employment.

Another life update

2009-11-22T10:19:00.002+01:00

OK, Debbie Downer time, a li'l bit: I don't like the holidays. To me, it signals a time when I put on 5 pounds and I get stressed for stupid reasons. Everybody runs around like headless chickens when we're supposed to be all glowing about the awesomeness of the season. It's no wonder why so many people get depressed in November/December. Of course, it makes even more sense where there are real seasons and it's gloomy every damn day, unlike SoCal.

I miss snow. I find it utterly bizarre to not have to bust out the pea coat, scarf, and tall boots -- those days where you're freezing your ass off and you have stains at the bottom of your pant legs because of the salt sprinkled on the pavement. It's hard to get in the mood for Christmas when it's 65 degrees and sunny each and every day, but shmeh. Unlike many of my antidepressant-taking peers, I don't suffer from seasonal affective disorder. I like me some rain, snow, etc. Oh sure, I get down if it's gloom and doom every day, but I also love waking up to a crisply cold morning where you are bundled up in a ton of layers...those days where you take a huge coffee on the road with you on your way to class/work/etc. Hell, I even miss having to drive on black ice. I feel so out of place in SoCal, sometimes, that I just want to scream when I see yet another woman wearing ginormous sunglasses in an indoor mall. RAHHH.

Forgive my rampant cynicism tonight, my bad. I guess.

Life's actually pretty good right now, I'm just venting.

Turns out the horse I rode from July through November went out on trial to get sold, but then he came back within a week because of his head shaking problem. Yeah. He shakes his head in bright light, and because this is LA land, that means he isn't nearly as competitive as he would be without it. It's really unfortunate, because he is a very fancy horse, it's just that there's no cure for head shaking -- yet, anyway. There's no treatment, really, either at this point. The main thing you can do is throw on a fly mask and a hair net on their nose, so I suppose that's the bandaid you slap on to make the horse not-miserable, but you can't use those accessories in a horse show, unfortunately. Rahhh. Well, anyway, now he's back (Cappuccino is his name), but it turns out I've started to ride another horse, anyway.
I'm going to keep leasing this new horse I've been riding, too, because he's a much better fit for the kind of stuff I want to do, not to mention I fit him better, physically because he's taller and more athletic. I'm having tons of fun on this horse, Z, because he's much more challenging than Cappuccino, not to mention I'm finally jumping bigger jumps again! Sheesh...it's so difficult to find a decent 3'6" + horse to lease without paying an arm and a leg, I really picked the wrong sport, man. I shoulda picked up ping pong or chess or something, because this is all way too expensive.
Aaaanyway, here's pic's of me and Z:

My goal is that I'll be able to compete in level 3 jumpers by the spring, that is, if this horse hasn't sold by then. He's still pretty green, so I doubt he'll sell. Usually the people willing to shell out the dough for a nice jumper horse don't want to buy the greenies, but who knows. I asked my mom if we could pony up the cash to buy a horse, again, at some point, and I literally got laughed at...but I mean, yeah, that makes sense. I should be paying for all this junk on my own without needing the financial help from the 'rents, being that I'm supposedly an adult (I still don't feel like one, though, despite already having been financially independent and living on my own, once upon a time). I'm just grateful that I can ride at all, it prevents me from dive-bombing into depression -- not that I'm free and clear of that happening, anyway, what with its nasty habit of relapsing whenever my brain chemicals decide that emotional stability is for bitches. Ah, mood disorder, I shake my fist at thee.

What else? Oh yeah, I'm going to be alone for Thanksgiving this year. Yeah. The Bobergs are all going to Iowa without me, because I have to stay home and work 30 hours next week at VS. Woohoo, boooobs. I'm enjoying working at VS again, but what I hate-hate-hate is pushing the god forsaken credit card on people. The managers always say "make sure you are enthusiastic and the benefits and the yadda yadda blah blah...one in ten people will sign up!" Uhhh, what I hear there is nine in ten will shoot you down and give possibly you death glares for being an irritating salesperson.

Real job searching continues, but trying to get a reporter job, I might as well resign myself to living in a cardboard box for the the rest of my life. Yeah, print journalism is going the way of the milkman, I'm afraid. I'm going to have to double up on some other field in order to put my writing to use, probably. What I'd love to pursue is corporate journalism. One of my dad's coworkers does that and he and his wife both wrote for the LA Times and did extensive investigative reporting, so I want to arrange another lunch with them so they can give me some tips about WTF I should do to get my foot in that door. Right now my ego is all deflated and I feel a bit hopeless about getting a real job, but shmeh. It's just disheartening that barely any job offers have popped up that are worth taking since I've been home from Spain. Lame ^ nth.

Anyway, I'm gonna attempt to sleep. Keyword, attempt. Wish me luck!

Life Update

2009-10-27T22:13:00.003+01:00

Workin' hard for the money, woooo! At least, I hope that'll happen. I got a mention of a job offer today when I went to Wellnessmart in Thousand Oaks. I've been there to shoot the sh*t with the main doctor guy, and today I mentioned something about oh yeah, I'm an unemployed bum (well, retail sort of does/doesn't count). So he asked before I left if my contact info was accurate, because he'd like to see if I could write for him. SQUEE.

Granted, this isn't the first time someone has mentioned maybe I could do some writing for him/her, but we'll see what happens. The prospect of it is cool, if nothing else.

Another no-less-important update: I found out one of the reasons I sleep horribly, even when exhausted, is because I might have a dust mite allergy. Apparently your bed is crawling with disgusting bugs (bed bugs?) and you can have a sensitivity to them. Yeah, gross. I mentioned to the doc that I have a problem breathing when I'm laying down, but not when I'm sitting or standing, and he says it's likely an allergy. SHEESH, now I know, after trying practically everything to sleep better: less caffeine, no naps/power naps/4-hour naps, nasal spray, breathe right strips, working out at strategic times, melatonin, ambien, it has all been a wash. I also have the whole anxiety thing keeping me awake, but if it were as simple as a dust mite allergy that is keeping me awake, I would weep with joy to be able to resolve it like this. Stay tuned.

Other: I got evangelized today, against my will. Actually, does anybody ever want to be evangelized? I was just chatting with some lady about why she was planning a trip to Africa and then got to hear a bunch of bull about spreading His word, blahblahblah, "Christ is the only way," and the whole litany of self-righteous tripe. Whenever I have to deal with that, I always probe and ask questions but keep a sort of calm exterior, because there's no point in getting into an argument with people who have no interest in being logical. The thing that I despise is having to defend myself when I get those random accusations. I suppose I could just let it slide, but of course I mentioned "Well, I am Catholic." So this lady goes into some diatribe about how Catholics don't read the Bible, Catholics are drunks who have no reverence for religious festivities, this and that and the other thing. I'm not about to go to bat for Catholicism, but I was getting hugely irritated by hearing an evangelist trash it. I'm sure I could bring up any religion and this woman would've had a conniption fit. Shoulda said I was a Jew, that would've gone well.

RAHHHHHHHH...

Anyway, I'm beyond exhausted. I keep sleeping 4 hours every night and burning my candle at both ends during the day. It would be worse if I had a real job, obviously, but I think I'd end up being completely useless at life if that were the case. Oh, and how delicious is the fact that I can get a job offer without going through all the arduous process of cover letter + resume + job search engine + outside help? Networking = beneficial. It behooves you to network. "Behooves" is probably my favorite word.

Rambling, woops.

Still writing my short story and talking to writer dude who submits to the same website. I've been surprised at how much fun it is to dip into the fiction arena and bounce ideas off other writers. I feel about a thousand times more intellectually stimulated talking to these people than I would, say, watching Dateline and eating chocolate fro yo. I'm checking the box on this website that says I want my submissions to be evaluated for publication, too, so we'll see if that gets off the ground. Right now I've finished my outline and done about 5 pages of a short story (it'll probably hit 60+ by the time I'm done with this installment). We'll see if this leads anywhere.

Yawn. Time to get out and go ride the horse.

Life is busy

2009-10-24T15:09:00.006+02:00

You'd think my sleeping would get back on track once my life adjusted to that of a more normal twenty-something, but nope. I guess I'm just a dyed-in-the wool insomniac.

I've been doing a stupid amount of work to get a "real" job. . I'd like to think that that Journalism degree and multilingualism would be worth something, but apparently in this economy, that equals the amazing opportunity of working as a painter. A world-class painter? Oh, even better: a house painter. Yeah, that's what Career Builder would like me to do, anyway, in addition to offers such as electrician and secretary. Oh, sorry, "administrative assistant."

Maybe I should just go to my local temp agency and just chalk it up to the crap economy? Well, right now I'm shooting higher and I joined Cal Lutheran's version of Career Builder, which actually recruits Cal Lutheran students for a sh*tton of career opportunities available almost exclusively in Ventura County. It's completely amazing to have a job search engine that is just for jobs in Ventura County, because "Southern California" is way too broad. California just boggles my mind with its size.
Oh, and no, I have no education background from Cal Lutheran, but when you have both parents with jobs there, it opens the door for that (yay, thanks, mom and dad, for defecting to academia in your 50s). My dad actually has two jobs, which is completely bizarre, seeing how he's always gone to work in his starched dry-clean only getup to live the life of the executive mortgage banker, financial guy. But oh yeah, back to that economy thing, I guess it's necessary to get a second job these days? Luckily for MBAs, apparently you don't even need an education degree to get a job in that field. Or maybe that's just the case at schools like Cal Lutheran? Anyway, bravo, papi. Oh, and my mom isn't teaching, but she just got promoted to Assistant Director of the Multicultural/International Programs, there. Brava, mama.

Yawn. So yeah, I have a budding profile on Cal Luthernan's job search whatever thing. I submitted an unbelievable amount of junk, along with a highly tailored profile, my ruthlessly edited resume, bajillions of writing samples, a sample cover letter, and that doesn't take into account the searching I do to find potential matches for things I can pursue on my own. I'm hoping this will be more successful than Career Builder, but there's probably zero chance it could be worse, unless the CEO of a company calls me up personally to tell me I'm a failure at life and then dissolves into maniacal laughter at my expense.

There she be, in all her glory, I just whited out my contact info, just in case I have potential stalkers (hello, stalkers!).

Other stuff...the horse thing is going. Not necessarily "well," but going. There was a bit of a mishap at my last show, where I opted to scratch half my classes on the last day, because the horse's photosensitivity got the best of him so he wouldn't/couldn't stop shaking his head. I get extremely frustrated by it, but there's not much that can be done but put the horse away, give him a pat, and wait and hope that the next time we show it goes better. And by "better," I mean that he doesn't shake his head so violently that I feel like I'm the passenger in a bumper car, getting shook about on his back. Rahhhh. In any case, I'm pretty sure Cappuccino (horse) will be leaving the barn, soon, anyway, so he can get sold. I'll definitely miss him, it's been a fun partnership. Can't exactly afford a horse right now, though, it's also pretty impractical, seeing how I'll be (hopefully) going to law school and working at the same time, in the next few years. I just wanna have my cake and eat it too, I guess, and do it all. For now, that will have to go on hold until I become wildly successful...or a trophy wife. I have lofty ambitions and my other goal right now is to find my personal sugar daddy who will buy me a summer home and more horses than I can count on one hand. ;-)

Another thing I'm working on is writing a short story and submitting it to an online forum. Apparently there are ways to get compensation if a recruiter sees something they like, so that would be amazing if that happened. I've never written fiction, though, so it's a bit of a hurdle for me. It isn't proving too much of a challenge yet, though, since I am always writing something or another and I write ridiculously thorough outlines. So, I'm hoping this will be more than a hobby, but we'll see if it takes off. I befriended one of the other writers on this site, so he and I have been chatting a lot and he's been helping me as far as inspiration and editing goes, so hooray for that, too.

OK I think I'm gonna (attempt to) hit it, again. Wish me luck.

Life

2009-10-10T09:09:00.003+02:00

Every so often I remind myself that I was in Spain this time, last year. I remember the whole thing being totally surreal. How? I started at my bilingual middle school with the help of Carlos, my bilingual coordinator and supervisor with his hybrid Spanish-British accent. Then there was the odd factor of being openly stared at in the street like I was from another planet, to my agreement that yeah, SoCal and a small, Southern town in Spain are on different planets.

Now everything is back to normal, but it's like I don't know what normal is supposed to be after spending four years in college, a year in Spain, and now back to a place where I have spent very little time -- Simi Valley. Now there's another difference: the SoCal culture and NY culture are pretty much opposite in a lot of ways. New York is much louder and brash. People don't act like their moods are affected by constant sunshine and like life is a Disney movie, where the biggest problem in the morning is deciding between a Gucci or Versace pair of sunglasses.
Oh, of course there are the Hamptons and the obscenely rich people who own oil companies, just like the left coast. But the people who I associated with weren't usually those people, except for the few I knew who I competed against, riding. Back to the cultural aspect, though -- I usually want to get the *bleep* out of Simi Valley and go back to New York. The problem with me is that I'm never 100% comfortable wherever I land, because nothing is familiar. I haven't lived in the same place for more than 3 years at a time since I left Michigan, when I was 16. Yeah I talk about it a lot, blah blah, but I'm getting used to SoCal, still, so I am going to think about it if not just complain. It's not that I want to complain as much as try to figure this whole thing out and come to terms with living here indefinitely.

I started LSAT prep class. Well, more like I took the diagnostic test and I'm waiting for the real classes to start and get the wake up call that I need to learn to pace myself better in taking the test. I will get hung up on making sure I have done my process of elimination while evaluating which answer best suits the question I'm reading, and getting worried, because sometimes they look like they all could be correct. Actually, it's sometimes obvious that two of the answers were put there to play tricks on you so I just throw those out and concentrate on what does fit.

Truth be told, I am such a huge nerd for reading and writing that the LSAT doesn't faze me as much as it should. I'm a Libra, after all, and we're all about balance, right? Ya damn straight. I get so in the zone when I'm taking the (practice) tests that when I hear someone sneeze I jump. My favorite part of the test are the logic puzzles, because I feel like I'm good at that. The worst part is the long passages, because although I'm a fast reader, I want to be thorough. Being completely nitpicky isn't an option when you have 35 minutes to get through 26 questions while reading the long passages and answering questions. Kind of weird, because when I used to take scantron tests in high school I remember always being one of the first people done. But the stakes are way higher this time, it's not like if I bomb the test about WWI that I'll get a chance to up my overall grade on the next test.

A lot of people have been asking me "seriously? Law school?" and I just say yeah, I'm interested in pursuing it. I remember my insanely demanding sophomore year at Ithaca, and how I was assigned to write two 25+ page essays, I had a job, I wrote for the paper, and oh yeah, I was living with a sociopathic roommate, all at the same time. I managed to keep my sh*t together the first semester, but I just snapped like a twig the second. "Twig" makes it sound like it wasn't too bad. Let's say I started sending sparks in every possible direction, like a toaster dropped in the bathtub. Point? I feel I've matured a lot since then and managed keeping my anxiety in check, more. Clearly the (lack of) sleep exacerbates my ability to work efficiently, but I'm working on it s'more.

One thing that has made me anxious is the job situation. I've found that the employers who are interested are now telling me (NOW TELLING. ME.) that they can't get a hold of the American contact to affirm that I worked in Spain. Well, sh*t. That makes it seem fishy, obviously, and it feels like a year of work was wasted. In any case, I've been told to provide new contacts, so I put down one of my riding trainers and my mom's last boss who went with me to El Salvador last year. Let's hope this will catapult me into the right direction, because I'm stuck otherwise. I mean, I worked at a newspaper and in Spain, I speak nearly fluent Spanish and Italian, I did other grunt work, and shouldn't that be enough for some entry level job of some sort? But of course just going to undergrad means nothing these days unless you want to be chief fry cook at your local In N Out, I guess, especially in this economy. Moan, groan, vomit.

OK I think it's time to sleep. ¡Buenas Noches!

Trying to get back in the swing of things

2009-09-12T09:41:00.003+02:00

It has been a long 3 months back at home, and definitely an adjustment. In some ways, it's like I never left home, but it also feels like if that were the case, that a chunk of my life was spent in some sort of weird time warp abroad. I really miss being in Spain and I wish I could be back there, but I made the decision that it wasn't entirely practical for my long term goals to go back. Also, I made crap money -- really good money for the amount of work I was doing, but still crap. What I really wanted to do was work the normal teacher hour-load every week, but my guess is that the Spanish government didn't want to blow millions of euros paying the foreigners to work for them. That decision seems a bit odd, to me, seeing how we were pouring our money right back into their economy, but I still see what they're saying.

It has been extremely difficult trying to get back into the work scene and really disheartening. I don't want to go back to some stupid retail job, but c'est la vie. I've heard of a lot of people going on to masters degrees who wait tables to get by, and honestly, I would need a job with hour flexibility in order to do that, anyway, so I just need to be realistic about it. But it still sucks, especially when I see the girls at the barn who can do any show they want and have unlimited disposable incomes/or trust funds + the like to get by. Then I remember how the horse riding world is so completely separate from the reality of normal people and I should just shut up and be grateful. My family is in the upper middle class, anyway, but sometimes I feel like we're living in a cardboard box compared to some of the other families at the barn. Yes, I have become a crusty cynic. Ship me back to New York, please.

This week has been pretty busy, though. I've continued my quest in getting a job, and I'm thinking I need to branch off from the job search engines and look in person. I'm sure that hundreds of people are looking at the same positions as I am, people who are older and more experienced, too, no doubt. The economy blows a big one right now, so any and all writing jobs are few and far in between, and I've always wanted to be involved in something where I get to use creativity, a bit.

The short-term aspect of my life has been getting to me. That whole "a rolling stone gathers no moss" phrase rings true to me, because I've been flitting here and there for so long that I don't feel tied down to anything and I always frantically search for a new environment, because that's what I've been used to since I moved from Iowa to Michigan, ten years ago. Three years later, we moved to Long Island, then two years after that I started at Michigan State and transferred to Ithaca after one semester. My parents had already relocated to SoCal at that point, so that was another adjustment. Once I got to Ithaca, I left to study abroad in Florence the spring semester of my junior year, but I had to come home after two months due to health reasons, which blew my life into shreds for a few months. Then once I got back to school, senior year, I was preparing for the "real world" right away. Real world = Spain. So, I'm not exaggerating when I say I've been moving around like a psycho for almost as long as I can remember, and it has definitely taken a lot of energy and determination to get to meet people and stake some sort of claim in place I decided to live at that moment. Luckily for me, I'm really independent, but it takes a toll on me when I can't make long term commitments or relationships, since the human experience includes that. I guess I've felt like an outsider ever since I was 13 and we moved to Michigan, and I've never gotten past that isolated feeling so I just move around, but who knows.

Riding has kept me busy since I've been back. I've been riding a little 6 year-old horse named Cappuccino, and it has been an awesome experience. I've made stride (hardy har) in getting back into riding shape and being a team, again. Fortunately for me, I've lucked into having a completely awesome horse who is eager to please and forgiving when I eff up, which was a lot, at the beginning. Now when I look back, I'm surprised my trainer allowed me to lease him! But w/e, I did a LOT of work with Vicky, last year, that I guess it makes sense.
The first time I sat on Vicky, I thought she was a psycho, and I hated the pelham bit with the converter on it that they put on her, which she just ran away from, anyway. She also had pitiful turn out -- her mane was too long and on the wrong side, her whiskers were long, her coat was dull, everything was just a mess. She and I didn't form an immediate bond, but I was persistent in getting her to soften up a bit, which isn't easy for a nutso thoroughbred mare. We switched to a snaffle bit, which might as well have been a wet fish in her mouth, and then I put a happy mouth 2-ring elevator on her and a figure-eight bridle which I thought worked really well. She didn't run away from that bit, so I barely had to touch her mouth anymore. She had strange ways of behaving, sometimes, like hating walking and wanting to trot everywhere. She also spooked at almost anything, including flower boxes she had seen 50 times. On the other hand, I remember her stopping at jumps very rarely, and usually because she spooked or because she didn't see the jump, or because it was too high for her (I thought she might be able to jump past 3'3", but I was way wrong...). In the end, it was a really fun pair up for me, even though it wasn't without its problems, but what riding pair isn't. I have a really bold eye, so it was fun to have the horse version of myself underneath me. She was a bit too small for me, though, given her light frame and dainty bone structure.

Cappuccino has been fun and a different challenge for me. It's hard to me to keep an even, hunter pace and literally go with the flow. Everybody thinks jumpers is harder because of the intricate courses and tight turns, and maybe it is, but it's also challenging to keep an even rhythm and make everything look effortless when, in fact, it's not. Some of Cap's odd behaviors include looking out of the ring when he's not focused, swapping from right to left leads (because he's not strong enough yet), and being a bit difficult to steer. All of those problem have gotten better, though, and they're really not that much of a hindrance, anyway, if I ride like I'm supposed to. The main problem is his photosensitivity, which I had never even heard of before I had ridden him. He tosses his head because he's essentially allergic to the light and it causes him pain. The cause isn't exactly determined and there's no cure, right now. I put his fly mask on every time I ride and a hair net over his nose, which for some reason comforts him and minimizes the headshaking. I also put him on Chinese herbs which supposedly help. Eventually, I want to see if accupressure will help alleviate the problem, since the equine chiropractor has already helped, I think. As for his strengths, he's very willing and he covers for me when I ride like a moron. He is really pretty to watch and he is definitely gorgeous, too, with the bonus of having an awesome coat, mane and tail. I'm working on figuring out if I can afford to buy him, which will be easier to do if I can make payments over time since obviously I don't have thousands of dollars at my disposal, and mommy and daddy aren't willing to fork over the dough for me at this point in my life.

Boots was the last horse I had, when I was 14. I went up to Ontario with my mom and Cathy, my trainer, and tried 5 or 6 horses before we found Boots. He was a beautiful Belgian Warmblood/Thoroughbred cross, and I was extremely intimidated by him. He had a bit of an aggressive personality and he didn't like anybody, it seemed, but his owner/rider, who was also the trainer at the barn. The first time I got on him, it was a shock to be on a grey horse at first, and then it was odd that when we trotted our first vertical he didn't even know what to do, because clearly all he had ever done was gun it at big 3'6" or 4' jumper courses. When he came to Michigan, though, we made him a hunter because he had absolutely beautiful movement and he pointed his toes really nicely. He eventually came to like me, even though the first few weeks were extremely difficult. He would rear if my back was anything but completely vertical, apparently because he didn't want any weight on his forehand. He also would bolt, occasionally, especially when we would ride in our grass field. The first show we took him to, Cathy rode him in the second year green classes, and he was an absolute nightmare at the in and out gates. He wouldn't want to go in the ring and he would throw a fit before going in. Cathy decided to use a dressage whip on him during schooling and drop it before going into the ring. After a course, we would quickly reward him with peppermints, since he always did well when he actually was IN the ring. He also started to bond with me, Cathy and my mom, but that was about it as far as the horse-human relationships went. Little kids were always in awe of him and wanting to come pet him, which I warned them wasn't going to work well, and true to form, he would charge them with his ears back and nostrils flared. One of the dads of a girl I rode with jokingly said "you think you're so tough, eh?" and he bit his upper arm so badly that his arm had a softball-sized bruise, but I didn't feel guilty at all, since it was well known that Boots was aggressive with people other than the three of us. That year, Cathy was champion of the second year greens and I was sixth place in the 15-17 large juniors, so I was really proud at how far we had come. I definitely miss him a lot, and I'm sad that we had to end our partnership when he got a calcified front right coffin bone which made him utterly useless in the show ring and incapable of riding on his right side.

Anyway, I just miss owning my own horse, so I'm hoping it will work out with Cappuccino, but who knows. Maybe someday I'll be a lawyer or a stay at home trophy wife and I'll be able to ride until my heart's content and fill half the barn with my mounts, but until then, I suffer. I suffer in silence. And yet I never complain! (joke :-P).

The main priority in life is to find a job, get accepted into a good law school, and ride (I'm looking at the Dispute Resolution program at Pepperdine, which is actually the program BEFORE you can get a law degree). Booyah. Wish me luck.

Life these days

2009-09-06T08:43:00.003+02:00

Feeling the need to write in here again, mostly because I don't have a reporter job at the moment, so I'm feeling unfulfilled. Ah, yes, unfulfilled by the insane amount of research and interviewing/transcribing tapes/taking hours to write a simple 500-word article...all for an absurdly, laughably low slave wage. My fellow Journalism major/communications people know what I'm sayin'. In particular, there's not much respect for young writers -- not from sources and not from coworkers. Apparently we're too young and inexperienced to know anything about life or have any ability. It's depressing. And right now I can't even work at The Acorn, the paper where I interned two summers in a row and then had a freelance job for one year. The economy sucks and it KILLS me that I can't do my thankless and yet, paradoxically, rewarding job. I know that I'm good at what I do, too (yes I am tooting my own horn), so it just kills me.

One of the trainers at the barn where I ride mentioned that I should ghost write a book he wants to publish, but I'm not really sure how serious he was. I should probably encourage/push him to start so I can have something to do with my time until I get a real job. Also, he wants to write a biography, which is right up my alley. I've done a bazillion personality profile articles, so this would be a fun challenge. It's difficult to write about a source that you haven't had the chance to meet, but I've even done THAT before. So, my plan is to see if I can get that ball rolling in the near future.

I'm already in a tremendous amount of debt with the parents because I've been freeloading by riding again, starting since I've been back from Spain. What I'd really like to do is just buy my own horse, but obviously that's unrealistic when I'm unemployed and living off daddy's dime (AND mommy's -- she got a new/better job!). Now I am so much more aware of how much everything costs than I was as a junior when it was all just left to the trainer to tell my mom how much a new saddle or a new horse blanket and show entries/hauling/braiding/etc would cost. And the costs are higher in California than they were in Michigan, but equal with what it cost me to ride in New York. Actually, I find that you get much better bang for your buck at the barn where I ride in California than where I rode in Ithaca. Also, it's nice to have a training staff that is more courteous and doesn't have the "oh, Meg, you ride better when you're pissed off at me!" mentality. Sheesh, that drove me nuts. I still find myself pursing my lips and getting highly irritated when I think about it, and how I rarely would say "you're being a jerk and I'm not going to stand for you treating me like a bratty 13 year old." #$)t^*$#%*$# I know, I know, I should just let it go...but I feel like venting. It's my own effin' blog, after all.

What else? Well, I miss my east coast friends horribly. I miss cynicism. I miss hanging out with my own age group and laughing til my face goes numb. Somehow I'll be able to find a new social network, I know, but it's difficult when you're unemployed and not in school.

Which leads me to yet another topic. I am applying to LAW school. That's right. A lot of people are saying "but why? I never heard you mention law before," and to that, I say that no, I've always maintained an interest. I love crime dramas and literature...NOT that I'd go into criminal law, but the whole process fascinates me. Something along the lines of corporate law would appeal to me -- something where I can do what I love, anything that includes doing a lot of research and presenting the results (and HELLO, that's what a journalist does). Yes, I was that dorky kid who looked forward to oral presentations and was meticulous about essays in high school. I was also in the drama club and choir to complete the trifecta of dorkery.

OK, I'm wiped out. I've been awake since 6 a.m. for traffic school after a whopping 3.5 hours of sleep. Yes, I am an insomniac and no, I can't make it through a day without a nap, because I get a "second wind" at night where I can stay up literally all night even on very little sleep from the night before. People give me a lotta flack for being a lazy mofo for my effed up sleep habits (well, that's partially true), but the Ambien I have prescribed to me would beg to differ with those assertions. Sidenote: when I take Ambien and I still can't fall asleep and I decide to do stuff, I behave like I'm intoxicated and sometimes I don't remember what I did the night before until I rack my brain...creepy. I would suggest not taking sleeping pills if possible.

And with that, I will pick up my book and then pop an Ambien and head off to dream land. Buenas noches.

My eyes and ears are offended

2009-07-25T09:06:00.006+02:00

Last night, I was willing to put my skepticism aside to watch Katie Holmes do Judy Garland's classic "Get Happy" routine for the 100th episode of "So You Think You Can Dance." After all, I knew KH as nothing other than Tom Cruise's ~~beard~~wife who used to be on "Dawson's Creek."

For those unfamiliar with it, "Get Happy" is from the 1950 film, Summer Stock.

From all the hype leading up to KH's appearance on the show, you'd think she was legend-worthy, like Judy. Supposedly, she trained for months to be in the routine. Also, it was implied that she would perform live, and why wouldn't she, when SYTYCD is based on live dance?

What happened was a tape was played with KH in a white retro blazer and skirt, going into a studio. At this point, I thought maybe it was just an intro to her live performance, but nope, the tape just kept playing, to reveal a routine on par with Britney Spears' "Gimme More"' routine at MTV's video music awards in 2007. I should give more credit to BS, though, cuz at least she performed live, despite looking a mess and possibly drugged. Another comparison: they both lip-synched -- that's to be expected in a recording, but I was still so disappointed that it wasn't LIVE.
I will say that KH is looking pretty great, especially given the fact that she's always in her husband's shadow and praising Xenu or thethans or whatever they are. But her singing was horrendous, not to mention autotuned, and her dancing was nonexistent. I mean, utterly pathetic. If she did anything remotely dance related, let me know, because it looks like nothing more than some flashy poses and getting raised over the heads of the back up dancers. I'm curious what those months of training consisted of, exactly...

Ugh, I have nothing else to say, just watch this ridiculous tripe, already:

Let's see a side-by-side comparison, shall we?

Original version....

Granted, there wasn't much to the dancing in the original version (back up dancers aside), which makes me wonder why they even picked this particular routine, to begin with, if the goal was 1) promoting a dancing scholarship foundation, or 2) to air on a DANCE competition. Even so, Judy Garland clearly has rhythm and training. She had been dancing and singing since she was a little kid, though, it just wasn't as prominent in this song. If they wanted a flashy Judy dancing number, they should've pulled something she did with Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly. As for the singing - comparing KH and Judy's singing is a joke, so I won't even go there. Points go to KH for flashing her undies, I guess, and for having better legs. That's about all I got. But that smug smile at the end makes me want to punch her in the teeth.

Here's some clips of real dancing from Judy:

With Gene Kelly in For Me and My Gal

Meet Me in St. Louis

With Fred Astaire in Easter Parade

With Gene Kelly, again, in Summer Stock (wait until 1:45 for the impressive stuff -- and yes, Judy was way heavier at this point of filming since she was on some major uppers and downers all the time)

In A Star is Born

Also, listen to 12 year old Judy, it's simply incredible --

home again, home again

2009-07-03T08:32:00.002+02:00

Now that I'm back on US turf, I'll morph my expat blog into my...patriated blog.

I'm itching to travel again, too. I was thinking "hmmm, I still haven't gone to Mexico and Tijuana is only a few hours away..." Must stop. Must prioritize.

Right now, now that I'm back from my trip to Iowa, I'm really cracking down on finding a job. Today I did probably 15 applications, and let me tell you, it's a drag. Luckily, my cover letter can be tweaked pretty easily for a variety of jobs. Also, Spanish fluency is a huge asset in Southern California...or so I'm told. I have yet to reap the benefits of it. So far, my only Spanish speaking is at the barn where I ride. Word must've spread that hablo español, because everybody always says "hola" to me. Oh, and I've been watching a telenovela here and there. But now that I'm back in the US, I get all nervous and think my Spanish is crap and clam up. I'm thinking I need to sign up for a Spanish lit course or something along those lines so I don't get out of practice.

Another thing I'm working on is grad school applications. I was reading a NY Times article today about how just having a bachelor's degree these days is the equivalent to just having a high school diploma 20 years ago, and it's true. Talk about depressing: CareerBuilder.com has been sending me emails about my potential job matches, and among them are electrician, bartender and handyman. Yikes. And the newspaper where I interned/reported for 3 years in a row isn't accepting any applications -- they're firing not hiring. Sigh. It's such a Debbie Downer situation -- so I am going to focus on getting grad school app's out in the meantime so I can get a better job in the future.

Another problem: I have no clue what I want to study. Lately, the thought of law school seems highly appealing, possibly because I'm a Law & Order junkie (not that I would want to do criminal law). I also am in the process of signing up for a paralegal course, too. I figure I might as well do something to give me a bit of a leg up while I work on prepping for law school application. For one, I'd need to do the LSAT, which is semi-horrifying. I absolutely loathe standardized tests, it's the worst. I'm pretty good at those logic questions, though, which is one of the reasons why I am so attracted to law school. I love debate and I can be highly convincing and I like to lead other people....right now I'm just trying to decide what I want to do, because sitting at home is rapidly turning my brain into Swiss cheese and I get depressed when I can't be productive.

Other stuff I have in the works is riding again, which has always been what makes me happiest. I've been riding this little 6 year old German warmblood gelding named Cappuccino and he's adorable. Pretty different for me, after riding the ridiculously speedy thoroughbred mare last summer, too. He has the biggest stride probably of any horse I've ever ridden, even though he doesn't feel particularly fast -- he just covers a lot of ground. He is really, really sensitive, though -- I haven't been wearing spurs because he has a big motor without them. He also has a distinctive "launch," as I call it, and I usually get "left behind" (equestrian term), because he jumps before I think he'll leave the ground. He must have a really long neck, or something, because I always see another stride. Then again, that reach he has takes up a whole lot of ground. Either way -- he's really cute. Weird thing: he has been wearing a fly mask when I ride him because apparently he throws his head a lot. I'd like to get some fly spray on his face and see if he'll quit that -- I think it looks pretty weird. Small complaint, though. He's so cute and he seems to like a lot of attention, which is also different from the other horses I've ridden who have either seemed pretty indifferent or downright hostile (although they eventually all warm up to a particular person, this one is just dog-like in his eagerness to make friends). Anyway, the riding has definitely played a role in keeping me sane, here.

That's what's new here. Hopefully better updates in the future.

Información

2009-06-25T10:44:00.003+02:00

Next year, if I decide to go back to Spain, I'll be placed in Zamora (Zamora) -- that's in the Castilla y León region, in Zamora city in the Zamora province. I really don't know anything about it, yet, but I have to do some research and decide whether or not I want to go back.

Interesting fact ~ the town where I'd be living in is 35 miles away from the Portugal border. Holy @!#)*~.

Also, this place super far away from the province where I lived in Spain, before (425 miles). Which was here --
Thank you, Wikipedia, for the geography lesson.

Other than that, I don't got much. All I know is that the dialect would change drastically, and the Spanish in the north of Spain is 8000% clearer than in the south (which is probably true of most countries in the world). The weather would also be significantly different.

Now that I'm out of Spain, the thought of going back seems incredibly appealing, because I miss it, but I really have to weigh the pro's and con's. I'm leaning towards staying in the US, since teaching is NOT what I see myself doing in the long term, also, the pay sucked (and is really bad in general)...and yeah, those are the main reasons. I need to find something more in the direction of what I want to do once I get back to the US and stick with it, unless I decide to forge ahead and live in Spain long term (which would mean I'd need to go to school there and find some other source of income...unlikely). So those are the reasons I'm thinking I wouldn't go to Spain, but right now I'm unemployed and feeling Debbie Downer about it, so the thought of going back to Europe seems awesome.

...Thoughts?

cositas

2009-06-14T10:54:00.003+02:00

I decided to write a little, bulleted list of things I've seen or done since I've been in Spain. Let's empezar....

Affected a hybrid of an Midwestern American/Southern Spanish Andaluz accent. The Andaluz dialect was a surprise to me, and one that took some getting used to. I still find it hard to understand, sometimes, because of the lack of enunciation. The Andalusian people say that they "eat their words" and talk like they have a potato in their mouths, which I find all too true. Example: they don't say "hasta luego" (which means "see you later"), they say "staluego." "Supermercado" becomes "supermercao" and "Jueves" (Thursday) is "Jueve." "Gracias" is "gracia," and "Granada" (the city, and it also means "pomegranate") is just "Graná." The list goes on and on. It may seem like subtle difference in just looking at that list, but when it's a constant stream of shortened/butchered words, in a conversation, it can be difficult to keep up!
Swam in the Mediterranean Sea, in Málaga. I'd been to a beach in Europe before, but never to swim, and never to the Mediterranean, before.
Went to a botellón. Botellón is basically a massive, BYOB party with all sorts of random 20 somethings getting together, outside, to party. And in addition to partying, urinating in public. Personally, I hate it. Then again, who likes to show up sober to observe a raucous sea of drunken idiots? Throw a foreign language into that mix, and you're in for a good time.
Partied until the sun went up. In college, most of the time the parties were officially capped off at 3, but more likely at 2:30, because people were either too drunk or tired or itching to hook up with somebody and get going. In Spain, people don't even go to the bars until around midnight and then keep the party going until...I don't know...your legs buckle?
Met a lot of new people - not just because I would've anyway, from moving here, but also on the many trips I have taken outside of Spain. And it's kind of interesting to see how many people you meet while just on a weekend trip. Here's a little list of new people who made a cameo in my life over the past 8 months....

November - Edinburgh, Scotland trip: Devlyn, Kieran and Lochlan. Interestingly enough, they are all Australian, but they're living/working in Scotland right now. At one point, all of us went to a Thai restaurant, so that would make us an American & Australian group, in Scotland, eating Thai food. That's me, Devlyn and Carole, below. Another interesting note -- Carole is a friend of a friend (that friend is Whitney, one of my best friends since I was little), so I had heard about her since I was 15 but had never met her until right before we left for Spain. We were in the Elephant House, which is a famous coffee joint in Edinburgh -- one of its claims to fame is that supposedly, JK Rowling wrote some of the Harry Potter stuff there. I look homeless sitting next to those girls...
Met some Brits in Madrid, who have my same job. When I met them in my hostel (which was an odd location for them to be, seeing how they live in Madrid...I forget why they were there), I was at a table with an Aussie, 3 Brits, 1 Scottish guy, and 1 Irish guy. Throw in a Canadian and we'd have the major English speaking countries all represented.
Met some Americans on our bike tour of Munich and then went out to get pretzels and beer with them Met some guys on Spring Break -- an American guy and an Aussie guy, and hung out with them for a few days while we were in Austria.
Met a ridiculous number of people from other countries, in passing, because I just approach them and ask them where they're from and strike conversations that way. In the hostels you meet people from so many different countries, it's insane.

6. Saw Jesus Christ Superstar in Spanish (Jesucristo Superstar).
7. Visited more foreign countries in 8 months than I had ever in my life...I've been in Spain, Scotland, Austria, Germany, Belgium, Ireland and Italy. Before this trip, I had been in the US, Canada, France, Belgium and Italy. I still have more on my must see this, though, but those will have to wait, I suppose.

Speaking of waiting, that's all I got right now. Stay tuned.

withdrawal

2009-06-13T08:09:00.003+02:00

Apparently I was getting used to my expat lifestyle, seeing how I'm fairly bummed to be back. Then again, I was getting really restless living in my tiny Spanish pueblecito (little town). Since I move every other year, I get incredibly restless without a change of routine. Also, and more importantly, I am BORED without a job, as much as it can be a drag at times to have to work around the clock. I feel so unproductive and lazy. But, as my mom told me, I should just make FINDING a job my job, right now. Bleh.

Anyway, to keep to the theme of el blog, here is a list of the things that are different about my American life versus my days in Spain....

Hearing people talk to their animals in English, again. It was always so funny to me to hear people speak to pets in Spanish.
Also, this may seem like a weird segue, but the same logic (to me) applies to people speaking Spanish to children.
The streets are absolutely huge in comparison to my pueblo. In most of the barrios in Cabra, you would have to move to the extreme side of the road so a car would be able to pass on the tiny, one-way only road. If I was with a friend, we'd have to walk single file, too.
No food stores that only sell one specialty -- bread, fruit, fish, meat, etc.
NO SIESTA! I love acutally SLEEPING a siesta, but the fact that stores and the entire town would go into dead mode for 4 hours a day was the most annoying thing ever, especially because I would want to do errands after my work day ended and I would have to wait.
Eating times are back to "normal," but they seem so early to me, now! I've grown accustomed to eating lunch between 1:30 - 3:30, which I've been doing, but then my mom will have us eat dinner around 7, and I'm not hungry by then. I'm used to eating between 8:30 - 10, sometimes later.
CARPET!!!!!!!!!!!!! I so missed "alfombra" and it drove me crazy that I would have to put on slippers or flip flops to walk around my apartment comfortably.
Stores are open on Sundays! Oh, and I might add that stores close around 2 p.m. on Saturday and don't open again until Monday morning. Them Spanish Catholics really keep the Sabbath day holy by not doing anything, whatsoever, which annoyed the )@*#% out of me. I don't miss that aspect of life.
I can drive again! I really missed the ability to just hop in my car to get from point A to B. It's so nice that I don't have to look up bus or train schedules anymore. It really got on my nerves, especially when there were glitches.
I don't have to put a conscious effort into speaking, anymore, which I enjoy, but...
Soon I'm going to need to sign up for some sort of a Spanish language book club or course, because I'm really scared about my Spanish detiorating little by little, even though my coworkers always reassured me that my español was "estupendo."
People are soooooo much taller (and fatter, but that's obvious) than the Spaniards. I'm no longer in the 90 percentile of height. The old people, especially, are bite-sized in Spain. Seriously, I'm wondering if there was a serious milk deficiency or something, or maybe it's because the Spanish people smoke like chimneys and drink tons of coffee that stunts the fetus growth?? I noticed, too, that the farther north you get, in Europe, the taller people get. I probably got my height from my Swedish + Belgian relatives, I'm guessing.

That's about all I got, so far.

As to the progress of the blog, I'm working on a list of things that I did during my expat life that I had never done before I left the US. I think it's pretty interesting, it'll be cool to have a list to remember all the stuff I did (preview: rockclimbing, skiing, learning the Andaluz dialect, etc.).

ya está

2009-06-08T09:32:00.004+02:00

And so it ends...not the world, although it is depressing that my time is Spain se acabó.

Actually, my time in Spain ended yesterday, seeing how I've been stuck in the London-Heathrow airport for nearly a solid day. Por Diós...Originally I thought "oh, ok, silver lining -- I get to walk around London." But then I changed my mind, because I was too crestfallen about not being able to get home that day, so I just stayed in the airport. I am getting cabin fever from being in the airport for so long - and yes, I slept here last night. Why? I just thought it would be more fun to buy a new outfit at one of those duty free stores than pay for a hotel stay, especially seeing how I don't have my toiletries (minus deodorant, which I packed seeing how this being-stranded-with-no-luggage situation has happened to me before...I also had the foresight to throw extra clothes in my carry on, for the same reason).

The reason I ended up stranded in London, in the first place, is because UK border control took up my entire layover time yesterday, so I missed my flight to LA. The last flight to LA for yesterday. I started swearing and crying and throwing a pity party of one in front of the dude at the British Airlines customer service desk. The cherry on top of this FML story is this: I had to dish out $200 to get on the flight today, which I was pissed off to have to do. @#)$*@#)%*@&

Whew.

Anyway, SPAIN. I can't believe I'm not going back to Spain for who knows how long, and I probably won't ever live there again, either. After I arrived in Madrid with Claire and we parted ways, I had a mini breakdown, partly out of lack of sleep, hormones, being unemployed now, and leaving Spain, of course. I'm still feeling a bit Debbie Downer -- every time I think about how I can't foresee what's going to happen in the future, I have a renewed bout of anxiety, but what can ya do? I plan on spreading my resume out like a fire hose at every writing position I am qualified for, seeing how the economy sucks a big one and it's going to be really hard for a 23 year old to get A) any sort of writing job, seeing how I have less experience than many, and B) a job where I have a hope at being financially independent, i.e. not living in a cardboard box. RAHHHHH.

OK, depressing stuff aside, let me recount my last few weeks in Spain ---

Lots has happened, actually, seeing how I've neglected my poor little blog. Woops. I went back to Ireland to visit my family there (descendents of my great-great grandma Bridget Moriarity-Parker -- my great grandpa Tom Parker's first cousins are living there, so my closest living Irish relation is my first cousin THREE TIMES REMOVED). That visit was awesome. Most of the time I was joining in the celebration for little 8 year-old Aoibhe's first communion, in Cahersiveen, County Kerry, Ireland. Oh, and I got to jump on one of those enormous trampolines, while in Ireland, which was definitely a fun time.

...May I just interrupt this blog post to state how exhausted I am? I am feeling slightly delirious and I stare off into space as my vision blurs, involuntarily, and it takes all my willpower to keep my eyes open. Luckily, blasting Queen music in my headphones makes it less likely that I will fall asleep in the near future. Oh, and caffeine intake. /tangent.

After I got back from Ireland, the reality of my expat life style ending hit, even though the idea didn't really sink in (still hasn't). The girls and I started planning various farewell parties amongst ourselves. Claire and I had the idea that it would be a lot of fun to throw a Dundie party, a la The Office, so we organized that. I got to be the MC, due to my....I don't know? Constant desire to be an attention whore? Ability to recite quotes from The Office, verbatim? My overflowing amounts of wit and charm?? Yes...all three. Anyway, we decided that we would have one serious and one funny award for each of us, and the awards were as follows:

Becca -- A) Most likely to need a new passport due to lack of space for new stamps, B) Most likely to consume massive amounts of pasta and butter
Claire -- A) Most likely to find the perfect place to jog in any given country, B) Most likely to go to Spain to teach and not to have sex
Emily -- A) Most likely to have an outstanding fine at Caramelandia B) Most likely to stay out the latest unless she has to clean her apartment for the 15th time that week
Kim -- A) Most likely to be the only teaching assistant to have a Spanish driver's license, B) Most likely to still be living in Spain in 10 years
Michelle -- A) Most likely to cook ridiculous amounts of food and share it with everyone else, B) Most likely to bare it all at a nudist beach
Meg -- A) Most likely to make people to pee their pants laughing, B) Most likely to punch someone in the tooth, again

...Clearly most of the funny awards come from the inside jokes we've had over the past year, so I won't bother to explain them, seeing how that will ruin the beauty of them. I will say, however, that we TAPED the Dundie awards, and I am in the process of editing the footage into a mini movie, so I'll put that up, shortly.

What else? I finally hit up the Spanish discotecas, which I had (believe it or not), never done. One of the reasons why I never went is because I don't know the young crowd in Cabra. I might have said this a billion times, already, but here it is, again: Cabra is loaded with ridiculously old people (here's a mental image for you: people who take an hour to walk the length of a football field). So, it makes it really hard to make friends in my age group. I know several Spanish guys in their 30s, but I feel a bit strange hanging out with guys who have 10+ years on me. I also know a 25 year old guy named Pablo, so he's the one I went out with the most, in Cabra, and his friends.
The other girls went out to the discotecas often enough, but I felt a bit discouraged to do with them, seeing how they went with their Spanish boyfriends and spent a good portion of their time playing tonsil hockey with them instead of interacting with others. I would rather drink toilet water than be around THAT, so...that's one reason I hardly went out, in Cabra. Woops.

I have plenty of pictures of my last few weeks in Cabra, so I'll get around to putting those up here, ASAP. Even though my Euro trip is over, my blog will have a pulse for a bit longer -- never fear, faithful few who read my humble blog!

Gotta go -- gonna board my flight soon, thank God. Eleven hour flight = wooooooooooo!!!

getting behind on el blog

2009-05-27T01:39:00.002+02:00

Woops to neglecting my documentation of my expatriation, gotta get on that.

First, let's cominciare col viaggio d'Italia. But not now, because I'm a zombie after my late night (actually, morning) that I spent in Málaga last night after getting back from Ireland...which, I'll be covering that trip, too, soon.

My zombie-ness together with my nightly second wind is quite irritating. What's the deal with that?

This week is my last week teaching, which is beyond loco. I'm getting more and more anxious about the closely impending unemployment. I had a phone interview for a teaching position as a Journalism teacher/newspaper/yearbook advisor on Thursday, which I was told I would be a perfect candidate for if I had a valid teaching license. Frown Town. I figured that because I was granted an interview at all after doing an online application and a questionaire in addition to submitting a resume, it didn't matter that I didn't have the teaching license (that question popped up in all the above mentioned things). Sigh. At least it was more interview experience. I'm used to being the interviewer, not the interviewee. And this one was insanely nerveracking, because there were 5 people on a phone conference with me. I go into the zone under pressure and when I'm expected to perform, though, so it wasn't really a big deal. I did the interview while on the train to Málaga, too, so I took comfort in the fact that probably no one had any clue what I was talking about, seeing how few people speak English in Spain. Anyway -- I'm super bummed and plodding on with my employment search.

Tomorrow after school I'll be heading with some of my fellow profesoras to see the Feria in Córdoba and I'm super excited, other than the fact that my feet are still blistery and scabbed over, because apparently that's a sign that I shouldn't ever be wearing open-toed shoes with heels. I hat the fact that my skin's so sensitive. Oh, and the point of that tangent is that I have to dress up for tomorrow and stick the orchid flower I have into my hair. :-)
After that, I'm meeting up with the girls for our "last hurrah," which is insane. Emily is leaving on Friday and is the first to jump the coop, while the rest of us will be sloffing off in the next few weeks. Claire and I will head to Madrid, together, on June 6th and I head off home, again, on the 7th.

OK, hafta get up in 6 hours, gonna hit it. Wena noche.

Sun Hangover

2009-05-19T01:56:00.003+02:00

Casa del Campo en Llano .... Nuestro día al lado de la piscina

Livin' the life...at the time, anyway. Give it a couple more hours and I would start to see the merit in living life in a Berqa as a way to prevent sun burn when SPF 50+ cannot protect we Albinos. Few things in life are as miserable as being burned. "The guy who invented steam sucks."

We had a lot of fun, though, all in all. The time flew by pretty fast. So fast, that none of us really thought "oh, pass me some more sunscreen for that reapplication thing you're supposed to do, yeahhhh." Ah, well. I slathered it on my chest and I'm still in mucho dolor, but what can ya do.

Yesterday, I went to Becca's bf's family's summer pool house in Llanos to spend the morning/afternoon makin' some dogs + kebabs + some brew. Apparently drinking alcohol lowers hydration levels so the skin is more apt to get burned. I have some burns of death all over my chest, even though that's the area I focused on the most, since it has a tendency to crisp off into oblivion. My face escaped sun damage, probably because I was keeping my straw hat over my face while tanning. It's my legs that got it the worst - I didn't bother putting any sunscreen on the thigh region, cuz I said to myself I wasn't gonna take off my bermudas, I just wanted to chill. And then when the temps hit the opposite of chill, I just took those bad boys off and walked around swim suitin' it up and I eventually got in the pool, too.
I also made our hot dogs in a frying pan, inside, because there was no grill, oven, or microwave. I guess if you plan to cook there, you gotta be a stir fry virtuouso.

At the beginning, I was reading and tanning and in the zone while Claire and Emily played ping pong. At one point, Emily whacked the ball at the side of my face and I was not so pleased - luckily my hat blocked the blow, but yikes. I already have been hit with pool objects, in the face, so I don't need one Emergency Room visit for face stitches every decade.

I ended up joining in on pool games when I got tried of the dronings of Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar -- there was some ping pong, pool badminton (didn't work so well, especially without a net)

Which founding father am I? Yeah, the old dude wig didn't work as well on me, I guess.

Jose Carlos' dog Kiki made her maiden voyage out to waters unknown

We tried to hit the ball midair when Claire throwed it to us. Pretty sure ended up winning, cuz Em jumped way too soon!

Claire and JC playing pool badminton before taking it out of the pool

Beach day was all in all a success, minus said burns. I got to cook, I helped clean, I picked out the brew and helped bring it there, I read 100 pages in The Bell Jar, and its Debbie Downer plot contrasted pretty sharply with the environment, which was interesting.
Anyway...Burns. I always, always, always burn. I mean, look at my skin tone -- hardly any melanin at all, right? Back in the day, it was considered much more desirable for women to have white white skin. I guess I would've been revered for my albino-ness in those days. My whitewhitewhiteness doesn't bother me, actually, I just wish I didn't burn so easily.

Other stuff ~ This week I'll be trying to get a video of me teaching to send people for phone interviews, since I can't teach in person for them to see me working. I think it's a good idea in any case, though, because it'll be a way to see how I look in front of the kids and get feedback later about how I could improve. I asked a couple of the English teachers at my school if I can go into their classrooms and get somebody to film me. Doesn't really bother me, either. I am the opposite of camera shy. What does bother me is the anxiety I'm getting for all these interviews, cuz I don't wanna be unemployed for long...it's going to drive me crazy until I decide a) where I'll work b) where I'll live and c) all the other fun stuff that you start to ask yourself once those 2 things are filed away, like social network, will I ride again, will I take my cat out with me when I move, how will it feel to be back in the USA again...Truth be told, I'm super psyched to get back to my own culture. I like being a novelty over here, too, it's just different. And let's face it, I'm a novelty everywhere I go for having lived in so many places. That's something that's going to come up in eeeevvvery interview I do, I'm guessing. Fugitive's gotta have somewhere to live, y'know.

A few observaciones

2009-05-13T01:05:00.002+02:00

Does this look appetizing to you? Because to me it looks like things I see on the sidewalk and make me shudder. It looks like an insect to me, but to the Spaniards, it's a delicacy. Nearly all the fancy restaurants here advertise that they serve snails as a selling point, generally with an image like the one above. So disgusting...and I thought that the omnipresent pig leg (with hoof still attached) was disturbing!

Another unrelated thing -- I went to el doctor this afternoon, because the ear problem I've been having for the past week or so hasn't cleared up on its own, which I thought i would. I figured my ear was out of whack after my trip back from Italy, because it kept making obnoxious popping sounds -- more than usual for a flight, but I didn't think anything of it. Then the next day after I got back, the pain in my ear was so sharp I thought it was bleeding internally and I didn't go to school the next day. Then the pain went away, but the feeling of it being blocked and my reduced ability to hear persisted. Arghhhh.

So today, after getting flack from the guy at the front desk of the health center here in Cabra, I went to see the doctor without all that fancy pants stuff they do in the US before you even see a doctor -- namely, weight/height/blood pressure/vitals/medication history and then you wait half an hour before you see a doctor, generally half an hour AFTER your scheduled appointment (can you tell I hate American health care?). Well, there was none of that ridiculousness, today -- I got in to see the doctor after waiting for the people in front of me in line, which was about 20 minutes and I didn't even have an appointment. After the whole consultation and asking what I was allergic to, which is nothing (the only things I think I'm allergic to are insect bites, seeing how I swell up to the size of a golf ball under my skin when even a mosquito bites me). Anyway, I'm rambling....

Point: the visit to the clinic was completely free (yes, free -- Michael Moore wasn't exaggerating, for once, in his documentary Sicko) , and the THREE medications the doctor gave me were...guess how much?? Seven euro, TOTAL. They include 40 max strength ibuprofen, 20 Claritin, and some pill called "Ambroxol," which is to get rid of the mucus making a lovely little trip from my nasal passages into my @#^%ing ear, causing this entire problem. Sure enough, I haven't been able to breathe through my left nostril, the same side where I have the ear problem. Oh, and that problem is a Blocked Eustachian Tube....Say that 10 times fast.

I'm guessing that if I went to see my lovely family physician at home, it would cost around $40 for the doctor visit, WITH insurance, and then probably another $40, with insurance, for the damn drugs. And here it was a measly 7 euro for doctor visit + med's. Unbelievable.

Now I just hope my ear clears up, because it's been really annoying being able to hear my own heart beat but hear pretty much nothing else out of my left ear. Oh, and when I walk, I can hear my footsteps really loudly in my left ear, which is bizarre. And it's painful. And miserable.

Anyway -- I still need to write about Italy. That'll come up soon...stay tuned.

A l'il bit of Negative Nancy-ing

2009-05-11T01:39:00.004+02:00

I forgot to include a few other things to the list of things I won't miss about Spain...

Mullets. Especially the terrifying, but less common, FE-mullet. I've asked the Spaniards what the word for "mullet" is, but there's no translation. Also, I find it kind of ironic that the "cool" kids in school are almost always donning a gel-caked mullet. It is unbelievably unattractive.
Random facial piercings, usually below the lip. I'm curious why this is considered attractive, because to me, I do a double take because it looks like acne.
Freakin' motos, or little motorcycle/Vespa things, ALWAYS buzzing by. If there were a soundtrack to my life in Spain, it would include these sounds. My only source of joy about this annoyance is that those annoying a-holes who drive the motos will be partially deaf in a matter of years. Ah, schadenfreude.
DOG SHIT (excuse me, but when you see it EVERYWHERE, it deserves the word). I was jogging this afternoon and every couple feet I would see a mound. People just don't give a (forgive me) shit about this issue!
No clothes driers, hence, you have to plan your laundry days around the weather if you want your clothes to dry in less than a week.

OK, that's about all that I have left to add to the list. I just want to have some documentation about the things that drove me insane about España. That way, when I get all nostalgic about my time in Spain in the future, I'll just look back at this list and think oh yeah, it wasn't ALL fantástico.

¡Solamente queda un mes más!

2009-05-09T02:12:00.005+02:00

One more month left here...less, actually. Qué loco...

Things I will miss about Spain:

Taking lots and lots of pictures of lots and lots of cool things. Europeans always say they're shocked at how big everything is in the USA, but I think estadounidenses are shocked at the size of and age of all the monuments here and the entirely different feel of the big cities.
¡SIESTA! I have the happy talent of being able to sleep at any time of day, in any contorted position imaginable, sometimes with the help of an obliging roommate letting me put my feet on their lap while on a train or leaning my knees on their lap. And I dream, too, so I guess I hit my REM sleep or whatever it is.
Lots of opportunities to travel and at a waaay cheaper price than in the USA
Lots and lots of time to read. I've managed to read about 30 books since I've been here. Back in college I didn't read too much for fun, since it was all I was doing in my Journalism and Spanish classes, not to mention sometimes having to write several 20 + page papers and writing for the newspaper...Since the last list I posted in my blog, I've read The Appeal by John Grisham, Sea Glass by Anita Shreve, All He Ever Wanted by Anita Shreve, and right now I'm reading Conflicts of Interest by John Martel
My ridiculously cheap apartment... even though it's had so many problems since I've been here, such as the gas cylinder holder nearly exploding/having to be replaced, the washer having to be replaced, the hot water not working, calcium getting stuck in the pipes all the time until January, water pressure not working right until January, hardly any climate control whatsoever, dust bunnies constantly popping up for unknown reasons, the top shelf of one of our cupboards collapsing, the toilet in one of the bathrooms being completely useless in the past month and until we leave, stuff getting stuck in the wall sockets, the inability to sit on the toilet because my legs are too long and they hit the tub/so I have to sit at a weird angle...um...I think that's it. You get what you pay for.
My nice long walks to and from school
Everything being within walking distance in my little town
Everything being cheap in my little town
The generally nice temperature
All the history in Spain
Cool buildings and art
Fans! I have a nice little collection going
My novelty to the Spaniards -- especially being an Amazon woman
Speaking Spanish every day

Things I won't miss as much

The food -- I was warned about "jamón" before I came here, and it was as weird as described, with bajillions of pig legs hanging everywhere and making me nauseated.
The Spaniards being sometimes uncomfortably direct in their conversation, e.g. "your accent is really weird" or coming up to me in the street to tell me I'm GUAPA or one time being FOLLOWED (yikes)
The streets being insanely small
STARING. People will just outright look at you until I look back and raise an eyebrow as if to say "what the hell do you want?"
No carpet
The utter lack of discipline for kids in the education system. I lay the smackdown on a daily basis at school and don't respond to kids yelling my name incessantly.
Having my name pronounced "MEHHHK"
Lack of personal space...I guess I got the Swedish genes in that respect, because I get kind of uncomfortable being touched by people I don't know well. Sometimes just in general.
SMOKING EVERYWHERE! I absolutely hate it when my hair smells like smoke, my eyes sting, my clothes smell, etc.

OK that's about it for now. I still have to update about Italy, so I'll get to that when I can/when I'm not feeling lazy.

België, part.....XII???

2009-05-04T14:01:00.003+02:00

Previously, in Meg's blog....*cue culturally relevant music in the background* I suggest "The Brabançonne"

EVERY DAY SIGHTING

There were many a delicious, uniquely-shaped easter candy!

I decided to "tan" on one of those rare sunny Belgian afternoons. By the way, I do not tan, I only burn. If I do manage to pick up some more melanin and look tan, it goes away if I'm not consistently outdoors, workin' on it.

Visiting the Vanderbauwhede family and riding their little mare, Naveena. Darlien Schaubroeck, Hans' wife, is a descendant of my great grandma's brother. Put more simply, my dad and Darlien are second cousins.

Forgive the time warp, but I never really wrote about the second half of my trip to Belgium since I went on that long tangent about my Belgian ancestry. Woops.
(Insert whatever phrase the Flemish say here for "let's start!" ...)

FRIDAY (part 2)

It looks like I have yet to describe the rest of the day when I went to Kortrijk with Stephanie and Sophie. We went back to their parents' home and I got to see Stephanie's little kids, twins Victor and Marie. They saw me earlier that day before we left, but they were a bit apprehensive about getting to know me. I asked if I could get a picture with Marie and Stephanie went to get her and she started crying! Poor thing...I guess I'm scary? She changed her mind later, though (all little kids like me, generally). After that, Stephanie and the kids were off back to Huise.
After we ate lunch, Sophie left, too, and then I went with Marlene and Dirk to Deinze to see my grandma's cousins hosted at Albina's home.

Sisters, Albina and Christiana Adam, and Christiana's husband Daniel

She's so funny - I was so looking forward to seeing her again

A bit elaborate, I think...and that's not even all of it!

Albina's granddaughters (they would be my 3rd cousins), Delphine and Lesley showed up, too. Lesley and I used to be pen pals after we first met in Belgium in 1997 and we hadn't seen each other since then. I last saw Delphine in 2000

While we were at Albina's doing some chatting about a little of this/that (and Dirk translating like a madman), I told Albina how much I admire her decorating. So, she decided she HAD to take me to her bedroom to show me her handmade bedspread and curtains and everything else. And she showed us all how she puts on -- get this -- white satin gloves when she makes the bed, so the sheets say nice...which made me ask if she also wears special pajamas ???
Lesley and her husband Pascal and I went out after that to their house and then to an Italian restaurant. I looked at the pictures from their wedding from a few years back and their vacation pictures from Istanbul, which seemed pretty cool.
After dinner, we headed to an outdoor bar/music place called Het Gouden Hof and chatted with their friends, and Lesley's mom and stepdad showed up after that. Lesley's stepdad is Albina's son, Mark (my dad's second cousin).

Holding a Kriek, a fruity (bitch) beer

Me and Mark and a drummer named Kwinten

While I was there, I managed to arrange yet another meeting with a Belgian cousin, Louis, who is actually biologically related to Lesley on her dad's side. Interesting. So anyway, we planned on meeting on Easter Sunday in Gent. Louis speaks perfect English since he lived in the USA for a year, in Colorado. All Belgians speak at least 3 languages, or at least the younger crowd does.
Keep in mind that Belgium is the size of Vermont, only there are 8 million people in the country and various languages and dialects (Dutch, Flemish, French, German). Also, Spaniards occupied Belgium several hundred years ago, and that's where Flamenco dancing originated -- "flamenco" also means "Flemish" in Spanish...also "flamingo."

SATURDAY

Sophie showed up at the VanLancker house on Saturday morning, and we were going to go to Bruge, but it turned out that there was a train strike, so we just decided to go to Gent, instead. The weather was very not Belgian, meaning it was hot hot hot. I was wearing a sweater that has some wool in it, or something, so I was a bit roasty toasty, but oh well. Meanwhile, Sylvie was rocking a skirt, tank and heels...
Sidenote: I just recently decided to break my no heels in Spain rule, by the way, because even though I'm in the 95th-ish percentile of female height among the Spanish shorties (I'm 5'9" and change), I don't care anymore. It's an immediate posture corrector + leg + booty boost. /girly tangent

She is pretty

After eating some panini al fresco by the water, doing a bit of shopping (new swim suit, so excited!) and planning a potential trip for Sylvie to visit me in Spain, we were off to Eveleen's house - her older sister.

Me, Warre (her 2-year old son -- ridiculously adorable) and Eveleen

We had just played together in the sandbox and I felt like an idiot because a 2 year old can say more words (in Flemish) than I can!!! I would say certain words and he would repeat me, which was really amusing...things like "woo" and "no," "yes," and such. I can say here, there, where, the numbers 1-10, hello, bye, how are you, papa, mama, grandpa, grandma, working, is, Dutch, English, Flemish...I think that's about it. Oh, and I learned "beautiful," and sand and hand, which was extremely helpful.

We went to Sylvie's apartment afterwards and she made us dinner, which was some kind of Japanese noodles and a ton of veggies - yum yum in the tum tum. We were planning to go together to a concert that night, but it was sold out so she wasn't able to get another ticket for me, unfortunately. So we just decided to go out for beers and I made the decision to try a Duvel (which means Devil) just to say I'd done it. It's suuuuper strong, probably one Duvel is the equivalent of 3 or 4 American beers. I only had one, after eating, and I was prettttty buzzed.

yum

SUNDAY

Last full day in Belgium, and Dirk drove me to Gent in the morning after meeting up with Marlene's parents, in Nazareth. Her mother, Madeleine, is my grandma's first cousin and the oldest sibling to Albina and Christiana -- also Julian, who passed away, and another sibling named Andre. And surprisingly for me, Marlene's sister Rita was also there.

While we were there, we looked through a lot of old photos and Madeleine's scrapbook. It's funny to see Madeleine, for me, because she has an uncanny resemblance to my grandma (Adams) Boberg.

That's my grandma -- pushing 84 and still tearing it up on the golf course and beating everybody in the over 65 female competitions!

...Back to our regular programming.

Dirk and Marlene drove me into Gent after that to meet up with Louis and his girlfriend, Barbara and some other people. It was pretty amusing to see Barbara speak with her brother at his restaurant, because she would speak English to him and he would usually reply in Flemish, and it wasn't even awkward for them. Barbara has a Swedish roommate, so I guess that's the story there.

We talked about their 90s music quiz that they were planning on taking that night, had some pastries and coffee, I bought chocolate while Barbara helped me decide, we went to Louis' place and listened to music, we went to the flower market where I got a cute little bouquet for my lovely hosts...that was about it for that trip, relaxing and fun. Louis is "awesome," as my brother says. Louis actually seems really similar to Pat in a lot of ways, minus the accent and different sense of style (read: any style at all...no offense, P@).

Louis, Barbara and I headed back to Nazareth, to the VanLancker house, and then we started the afternoon-evening-night party shortly after I got there, complete with their daughters + significant others + the twins - it was a lot of fun. I told Sophie's boyfriend Anthony that I really wanted to hear him play keyboard (he's a pro musician), so after dinner he went to get his equipment and we spent most of the rest of the night listening to him, doing some karaoke, and I sang a bit for them. I used to think I wanted to pursue some sort of career in vocal performance, but my music theory is pretty bare bones -- I can read music fairly well, but the nitty gritty is over my head. Frown town. Plus, it's too volatile a career, so I'd much rather write, instead.

Anyway ~ here's some pic's of that night:

No trip to Belgium is complete without frittes! I also really want one of those fry shovels.

Marie decided I was the Devil, after all (but I was the only person present who was refused a kiss when she went to bed...sad times!)

Marlene, Anthony, Marieke, Sophie

Victor and Anthony -- is that not the most AWWWWW worthy picture in the history of time?

Victor looks like a cartoon character!

I got some gifts! Too generous, as usual

The twins

Me and the girls :) There's a picture of me and the boys, but it's on Sophie's camera, I think

Sven and Marie -- Marie is a total daddy's girl!

It looks like I've wrapped up all my Belgium trip. Whew! Tonsssss of relatives there, seriously. Good records, I suppose, since my grandma was essentially a first generation immigrant, more or less, even though she wasn't born in Belgium... her siblings were.

Looks like that's it for this installment of my expatriated adventures. Vaarwel!

Ho acceduto nel mio acconto di google.

2009-05-03T14:49:00.005+02:00

It's a bit amusing to see yahoo and google change to Italian on my laptop....

Right now is my last pomeriggio in Firenze, at least for this trip.

That's the duomo/skyline. Florence is also known for being the capital of Italian Renaissance art, with artists like Raphael, Michelangelo, Giotto, Fra Angelico, da Vinci, Botticelli, etcetera. I took an art history class while I was here so I'd have more opportunities to travel and get to know some stuff about art, since I'm pretty ignorant about it in all aspects. It was difficult - for exams, you had to know the year something was done within 3 years, who made it, the artistic aspects of it, where it is/was, what it's made of, and what it represents. I seriously hate rote memorization, but the class was still cool, and I got a chance to write in it, which I, of course, love.

I got here a few nights ago and went over to Gianna's, my ex host mom's house. She and her appartamento are essatamente how I remembered, i.e. bravissime. She gushed for about 5 minutes about how I was "molto bella!" and "come sta la tua famiglia??" and all of that stuff. It was pretty difficile for me to use Italian for the first hour or so, but then it all came back really naturally, as though all my Italian was stored in some encrypted hardrive of my brain. Strangely enough, my Italian has improved dramatically, which I definitely have to thank for living in Spain for the past 7 months. I can understand everything I hear, too, which I was about cinquanta-cinquanta (50-50) the last time. It's pretty exciting.

Anyway -- Gianna had made me and the other girl who is still at her house, Sarah, some yummy pasta with spinach and then chicken. They always eat two courses here for dinner, and the Italians load your plate with stuff unless you flat out refuse to eat it. I only ate about a third of what she offered me, I restrained myself after my 10-15 pound weight gain from when I studied here! It's hard to resist though...and this time I had her teach me how to make some of her food. After dinner, she showed me how to make espresso and apple streudel while we chatted and watched Italian game shows (a game show she was actually on, a few years ago, called L'eredità). Yesterday I learned how to make some more stuff, including this meat dish wrapped around cheese with artichokes and her fruit salad. She doesn't have any of the recipes, so I just had to watch it and write it down and translate it in my head. Pretty cool.

...I should probably save the rest of my Italy stuff until I get back to Spain. As it is, I still have to post about the rest of my trip to Belgium. Woops.

I'll put up my pictures ASAP. :-D I have some pictures of Cortona, too, which is the city in the movie Under the Tuscan Sun. Yesterday I bought the book translated in Italian, Sotto il Sole della Toscana (which I hope is better than the movie, which is one of the corniest chick flicks of all time).

OK that's it...the girl sitting next to me on Skype in this internet caffè is driving me crazy, so I'm off like a prom dress. Ciao!

Some more Belgian family background

2009-04-22T15:50:00.008+02:00

Since my last post, I've done some more research about my great grandma + g'pa Adams and when they came over to the US. I thought they came over in 1918, but it turns out it was 1920. They got married a week before they left Belgium for the USA.

Here's a picture of the boat that took them to the USA, courtesy of Ellis Island's website:
The boat was called "Lapland," and it started in Antwerp, Belgium and it carried 1835 passengers - 4 of those being my great grandma, then 29 year-old Martha (née Noppe) DeFauw Adam(s) and 32 year-old Adolph Adam(s) and 5 year-old Rene and 2 year-old Irene DeFauw.
According to what my grandma has said, their plan was to make a bajillion dollars and then take it all back to Belgium with them...typical ignorant perspective of the turn of the century immigrants, I suppose? Needless to say, that never happened, in no small part because Adolph developed ALS and the medical bills were sky high.
Another fun fact -- Adolph actually had moved to the USA before Martha. The story goes (from my grandma) that Adolph proposed to Martha before her first husband did, and she rejected him, so he went off to war and then decided to go to the USA, all lovesick. I'm not sure if the proposal or lovesickness is 100% true, but it is true that he left for the USA and then went back to Belgium when he was contacted by Martha with the news that her first husband, Michele DeFauw, had died, at the tail-end of World War One.

How is that for a soap opera??

A few years after they moved and settled in their new home (without speaking a word of English, I might add), my great uncle Aime was born, then my grandma. Here's a picture of all the children and my great grandma from the early 1930s:
Back row has Rene DeFauw (1914-1996) and Irene (née DeFauw) (1917-1998) and the front is Aime (1923-2008) and Darlene Adams (1925 - ). My grandma told me that she didn't know why she and her oldest siblings had different last names until she saw their names written and she finally asked what that meant, later.

And here are the siblings again, minus Aime (maybe he wasn't home on leave like Rene was, at that point?) in 1945:
From left to right: Darlene (née Adams) Boberg, Rene DeFauw with daughter Marilyn, Martha Adams, Irene (neé DeFauw) Gruszeczki.

Once again, the pictures came from my dad's cousin, Marilyn. Thanks for your help! ;-)

Going to wait before I write the rest about my vacation in Belgium. Right now I'm just enjoying digging up some of this info about that side of my family!

België!

2009-04-20T22:50:00.008+02:00

Only 6 weeks left in Spain, wooooah. The time has really gone super fast, it's crazy. Packing my life up for 8 months last September seemed kind of daunting, but I'm glad that I went to talk to one of my Spanish professors on a whim and ended up applying and getting my position here. It's been a "trip" ...hardy har.

Speaking of trips, I spent half of my spring break in Belgium. The last time I was there was for a week and I came over while I was doing my study abroad in Italy.

First, let's do a little more background story about my Belgian ancestors (I already did a bit in an earlier post, but now I have pictures of them):
Those are my great grandma and great grandpa Adam(s) with my great uncle Rene and great Aunt Irene, circa 1918. How cool is that? My dad's cousin Marilyn DeFauw Digdo, Rene's daughter, just uploaded that picture online and I just saw it for the first time the other day. Sidenote: my great grandma Martha Adams married my great grandpa Adolph Adams after her first husband, Michele DeFauw, died at the end of World War I, so the kids in the picture are actually his stepchildren. So it turns out that if Martha DeFauw Adams' first husband survived, I would never have been born, not to mention my grandma or my dad or everybody else. Which also means Rene and Irene were half siblings of my grandma, even though she never referred to them as half siblings since she grew up with them from the beginning, along with her "full" sibling, my great uncle Aime, who was born in 1923. My grandma was born in 1925, by the way, in Illinois. My grandma is the member of the Adams/DeFauw family still alive -- Rene died about 10 years ago, Irene died about 5 years ago, and Aime just died in the past year. Another factoid: The Adams family had the "s" added to their name when they emigrated to the US, for reasons I don't really know.
Here's a picture of my grandma Darlene Adams Boberg in the early '40s, with my great grandparents:
My great g'pa developed ALS (Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis) later in life, so that's why he's in the wheelchair in the picture.

My grandma, great grandfather and great aunt Irene

Anyway, I'm a bit foggy about why Martha and Adolph decided to leave Belgium. I wonder how their siblings reacted, too, when they must have known they would never see them again after they took the long boatride over to the states.

OK, now that I got the little snippet of history out of the way, onto the story about my last trip to Flanders (fields, where the poppies blow)...!

I arrived at the Brussels Airport during the evening of Wednesday, April 8th and was picked up by my dad's second cousin, Marlene DeClercq, and her husband Dirk VanLancker and their daughter Sophie. During my trip, I stayed at the VanLancker's home in Nazareth. Here I am with Marlene and Dirk:
My dad and Marlenes' mothers are first cousins, and my dad's grandfather and Marlene's grandfather were brothers, so the common ancestor is their great grandparents...whew, that's weird to explain. Anyway, we were off Dirk and Marlene's home in Nazareth in East Flanders for a low-key evening in. I tried a new Belgian beer -- Leffe. Oh so yummy, oh so potent. I'm sure the Belgians think I'm a cheap date what with my getting tipsy after a few beers.

The next morning, I went off to the Vanderbauwhede home. Darlien, Hans' Vanderbauwhede's wife, is my dad's second cousin, too. While I was there, I got to hang out with the kids -- their names are Bert, Anneleen and Lotte. They are 17, 15 and 13, respectively.

Anneleen and Lotte with the horse

There was a pretty somber mood in their house, because their grandfather had passed away from cancer only 2 days earlier, so the timing was really bad, but it still ended up being not a totally doom and gloom visit. We watched some movies and played with their horse, a 3 year old haflinger mare named Naveena. I got to ride her, and it was the first time I'd been on a horse with virtually no training whatsoever, so that was interesting.
How cute is Naveena? She would never be used for the kind of riding I did/do (show jumping), but riding is riding. I'd love to have a project horse like that that I could train and maybe use for showing. The bonus to buying young, untrained horses is that they are much cheaper than the ones who have already been trained and won crazy championships and such, already. Horse tangent....Moving on!
Later in the day, I headed over to another relatives' house, the Schaubroeck home (also a second cousin of my dad's -- sensing a pattern here?). They invited over a friend of theirs to translate, since Christian and his wife don't speak English. The funny part is that their friend was a Economics professor at Iowa State a few years back. Small world, y'know? After we ate dinner and talking with the Schaubroeck's daughters, I went to Ghent with everybody for a little bit. We went around the city and had some Genever at a famous little bar.

The next morning -- we're up to Friday, now -- I went out with the VanLancker girls, Stephanie and Sophie. They are a bit older than my brothers, about 6 and 8 years older than I am. We went to Kortrijk for the morning + afternoon and walked around, got coffee, shopped, and looked at the sights. Kortrijk is one of those little, well-preserved medieval towns.

Stephanie and Sophie

Me and Stephanie

Me, by a famous bridge, Broeltorens, + towers in Kortrijk

That's what it looks like at night...thank you Wikipedia, for the picture.

Beguinage, which is protected by UNESCO

OK I am going to leave this post at that, seeing how it's already pretty long. Also, I'm feeling like death with my cold + ear infection, so I'm looking forward to faceplanting in my pillows. I'll write about the rest of it in the next post!

Actually, before I go faceplant, I want to post a list of the books I've read since September. I have become a reading machine, no foolin':

When You are Engulfed in Flames, David Sedaris
The Lovely Bones, Alice Sebold
The Almost Moon, Alice Sebold
An Unquiet Mind, Kay Redfield Jamison
Running with Scissors, Augusten Burroughs
Dry, Augusten Burroughs
Frankly, My Dear, Molly Haskell
Twilight, Stephenie Meyer
The Gravedigger's Daughter, Joyce Carol Oates
Rape: A Love Story, Joyce Carole Oates
Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell
The Pact, Jodi Picoult
Keeping Faith, Jodi Picoult
On the Road, Jack Kerouac
Salem Falls, Jodi Picoult
Change of Heart, Jodi Picoult
My Sister's Keeper, Jodi Picoult
Lucky, Alice Sebold
My Sister, My Love, Joyce Carole Oates
The Witch of Portobello, Paulo Coehlo
The Bean Trees, Barbara Kingsolver

...I think that's it, but I'm just listing them from what I remember reading month by month, so there might be another one or two I'm forgetting. Right now I'm starting to read The Laws of the Spirit by Daniel Millman.
So, 21 books in 6.5 months = a little over 3 books a month, so I average a little over a week for all my books. Go me.

Hooray for meeeeee

2009-04-19T00:25:00.004+02:00

Just got some good news -- my application to renew my job in Spain was accepted. Yay! I don't think I'm going to come back here, but at least it's an option for me, now. Also, I requested to teach at an official language academy for adults, which would more enjoyable for me. And if I were to come back to Spain, I would definitely look for Spanish roommates so I could go to the next level of really solidifying my Spanish -- even though I've really enjoyed living with my American roommates, I still feel like I missed out on that particular opportunity. I don't know yet where the Spanish Education Ministery will/would be placing me, so when I know I'll let everybody else know.

Right now, one of my biggest concerns is impending unemployment. And getting a writing gig is especially hard to come by right now, so I've been really anxious about going back home. Frown town. Worst case scenario, I'd go back to Victoria's Secret and work there until I find another "real" job.

Soon I'll be posting about Belgium. In the meantime, I'm still enjoying/savoring every morsel of Belgian chocolate I brought back...yummmm!

spring break account, part one

2009-04-14T11:31:00.005+02:00

Ever heard of reverse culture shock? It´s what happens when you go back to where you live from another place and it seems foreign. That´s how I feel returning from Belgium -- I knew it would happen, so I braced myself for the constant ¡¡¡HOLA WAPA QUE TAL UN BESITO Y TUS VACACCIONES DIME TODO!!! ...No punctuation necessary.

Mis vacacciones were excelente. I went with my roommates Becca, Claire and Michelle to Germany and Austria for 4 days (actually Michelle is a former roommate, but yeah), then I broke off from the group and went to Belgium to see family. I´ll start from the very beginning (a very good place to start):

FRANKFURT
The girls and I got into Frankfurt late on Friday the 3rd, from Seville. We started off the day, early, and took a bus to Seville in order to make our early afternoon flight to Germany. This may be too much info, but whatever: the bus always makes me feel queasy, and it was especially aggravating because I was getting over the worst of my stomach flu. The first few days in Germany were hell, and I stuck to eating pretzels (but I did cave and get some Starbucks, too, which I later regretted, that day). Anyway, we got into our Frankfurt hostel pretty late at night and just chilled in the main lobby room with people from all over the globe -- there was even an American guy there, so I chatted with him, a British guy, a German guy, and a whole bunch of Croatians...it was a total sausage fest, there was not one other girl apart from me and my roommates, so we got a ton of attention by default. I think some of those guys were on their 5th or 6th German beer and were definitely feeling it. So we just chatted with them, and the Croatian guys playing us some music and we sang with them. Becca and I took the main singing parts, since we´re constantly singing at ¨home.¨ It was fun. The not fun part was the mosquito infestation in our room. Claire and I were attacked with bugs, and I seriously looked like I had chicken pox on my arms and legs for the rest of the trip. I´m still completely red and scratching them, I think I must be allergic to the German bugs, or something. Anyway...

MUNICH

We left for Munich on Saturday morning, and I did my usual sleeping on the train thing, for probably 3 of the 4 hours on the trip. I possess the happy skill of being able to sleep anywhere in any configuration. We arrived in the early afternoon and settled into our hostel and went to get Starbucks. Being a former Starbucks employee, I had to impress my roommates with the complexity of my drink order (Iced triple grande caramel soy latte, please). I was so extremely caffeinated after that, I thought my already naturally jumpy legs would fall off from over exertion. I would say I have that weird ¨disease¨ restless leg syndrome, but it´s never bothered me. So...the Germans. I was immediately struck by how many blondes are in Germany and how tall everybody is. For the first time since I´ve been here, I felt like I fit in, height-wise (Spaniards, overall, are really short). German sounds really, really weird to my ear, so that was an adjustment. Lots of ¨k¨ sounds and such.
First, we went to an outdoor market and checked out enormous pickles and schnitzel and frankfurters and the like.

This was right after I had left my coat in a McDonald´s bathroom after being sick and forgetting to take it with me (woops). I was a bit upset, because it turns out it was stolen - I went back to the hostel to rest for a while and try not to yak while Becca kindly went back to ask for it. Frown Town. Anyway, once I felt a bit better, we went out again. We went to the Munich Olympic park, where the Olympics were held in 1972. Pretty awesome.

And the German police are total BAMF´s, as expected. They charged the girls and I 40€ fees for having the incorrect ticket on the train without any sympathy whatsoever that we´re tourists and don´t speak German. Fork over the money, ladies, was the vibe we got. Ironically, that was when we were on the way to check out the Dachau Concentration camp, so the image of nazis was fresh in our minds.

Dachau, as you´d imagine, was a rather intense way to start off the day. We got one of the audio guides, which I was responsible for holding and telling the girls about (being the journalist that I am, I´m always eager to know everything possible about a new place, not to mention I´m very interested in the history of the Holocaust). The atmosphere of Dachau is stark and creepy. We went into the rooms where the cremation ovens and poison gas were and we saw the bunkers where they slept. The audio guide had info about every area of the camp, including first person accounts from camp survivors and American camp liberators. Some of the info was told by a narrator, about people who were killed. Sad.

After that, we got back on the train (with the correct ticket) and we set off for a 4 hour bike tour around Munich....it was a great way of seeing all the key sites of the city in a relatively short period of time.

We got to stop in some of the main plazas and see a whole bunch of statues representing Bavaria with lions and the like. Our tour guide was this Hawaiian guy who was extremely funny and had us ring our bells and shout ¨mullet¨ every time we saw one. Unfortunately for Claire, who gave us the idea of going on the tour, a guy got a flat tire and we had to make an unexpected stop. The guide couldn´t fix it, so the guy ended up taking Claire´s bike, and Claire (being just over a hundred pounds and pretty short) was the unlucky one to have to sit on the front of the guide´s bike. ¨Is it too hard?¨ *wink* ...So ridiculous. We kept on keeping on and we went to an enormous beer garden where the beers and pretzels are bigger than your head.

When the tour was over, the girls and I went out with some people we had met on the tour to Hofbräuhaus, a famous beer house. I only had one more, and not even the entire thing, since I was pretty dehydrated, but fortunately, almost over my stomach flu.

Moving on...

SALZBURG
We set off for Austria the next morning, which was a short train ride just over the German border.

Salzburg is stunning -- the Alps, the chalets, the water, the snow, the buildings, the music...I love it all. I really want to go back and see more of Austria, especially Vienna.

The first day, after settling into our hostel, we were off on a tour of the sites in The Sound of Music film. I was in the musical in high school, so for me, it was pretty cool, if really cheesy. At least we got to see the great views of the city and hear more about the story of the real Von Trapp family rather than the syrupy sweet story you hear in the cheesy, cheesy musical.

The house used in the movie

An accurate depiction of both my feelings about The Sound of Music and how I was feeling when spring break started.

We met up with 2 guys from our hostel, and we went off on a self guided tour of the Salzburg to see the salt fortress and other sites around the city. The salt fortress was quite a hike, but the view made it all worth it, especially with the sunset.

The next morning, we went with those two guys (an American and an Australian) to see the Alps. We took a gondola up to the summit and hiked around. Stupid me, I wore the worst possible hiking shoes, so I had to hold hands with Zach and Russ, our two new friends, so I wouldn´t plummet to my death off the side of the guiderail-free Alps. I´m not afraid of heights, but I am afraid of being in traction-less shoes in hard snow when a cliff is involved. Way to go, Meg...

After that, we went on a mini boat tour that was included in our ¨Salzburg card¨ purchase which also had taken us up to the Alps. We went on the main river of Salzburg in a little motor boat and saw some awesome houses, narrated by some creepy recorded voice both in German and then played in English.

We went out for some drinks by the water after that. So pretty.

We also went to Mozart´s birthplace (also on the Salzburg card list of attractions). Ever since I saw the movie Amadeus, I was really interested in Mozart. The movie isn´t a completely accurate representation of his life, but it´s still really well done -- probably why it won best picture in 1984 and was nominated for a bazillion other awards. I love the villain in the movie, Salieri. Ironic they made him the villain, seeing how I´m pretty sure Mozart and Salieri didn´t interact, at all, in real life. Also, the movie showed that Mozart didn´t have siblings and that he only had 1 child, himself, when in reality, he had 6 (even though only 2 survived to adulthood).
Unfortunately, we weren´t allowed to take any photos of the house, which was so lame. There were tons of things I wanted photos of, including weird things like locks of Mozart´s hair. They also had his first violin as a little boy, and it was so small. There were lots of commissioned paintings of him and his family and examples of his own handwriting and the original copies of his music. I love Mozart operas, especially Le Nozze di Figaro and The Magic Flute. My dream would be to sing the Queen of the Night aria, someday -- I already practice it a lot, haha...

VIENNA
The next day was my last day -- I took the train to Vienna with the girls, and all I did there was take a short walk around the center, eat pizza, and go check out the Spanish Riding School of Vienna, with all the Lippazaner horses. Unfortunately, the tour the girls and I wanted to take was completely booked until 4 pm, which was too late for me to go to in order to make my flight to Brussels. Boo :-(. I´ll just have to go back someday, I guess.

Some nice Viennese lady took that picture for us.

OK, that´s about it for part one of my spring break...Belgium deserves its own post, especially since this one is already so long. Hasta ahora...

¡TENGO AGUJETAS!

2009-03-31T21:40:00.004+02:00

How would you feel if you suddenly had to join the cast of a play and you didn't know any of your lines? Well, that's one of my recurring dreams, and I felt like I was living it for real in the aerobics class I took today. Claire (roommate) and I decided to do an aerobics class today at the gym we go to, and it turns out the bulk of the class is choreographed, and it's like we're in a Britney Spears music video, or something, that's how complex it was. It was quite effective in making us sweat/raising the heart rate, though, so hooray for that.

When Claire and I arrived at the class, the instructor was super enthusiastic about us being there and, as if we didn't stick out enough already, she shouts "¡Estadosunidenses! ¡Qué chulo!" (Americans, how cool). Then she said some other stuff to the class and us about what we were going to do and then she addressed Claire and me again to say "Guiris, síguenos y hagad lo que podéis," which means "foreigners [think "gringo," but the Spanish version], follow us and do what you can." I had no idea it was going to be so ridiculously difficult! But it was fun, so ultimately, vale la pena (it's worth it). So that was my ridiculous experience of the day.

I've been going to the gym a ton lately to run/do pilates and now aerobics in order to ponerme en forma or get myself more in shape for the upcoming swimsuit season. Claire has done a great job of being moral support, Colorado mountain woman that she is -- she is by far the most athletic of the group of Americans here. She's run a damn marathon, for god's sake, not to mention she was on a bazillion sports clubs in high school. What did I do in high school? Drama club and traveling choir and church choir cantoring...oh, and I rode horses in the first part of high school before I gave it up and then picked it back up when I was 21.

School has been good here ~ here's the Easter poster I made:
And yes, I did the drawings -- that's about as far as my drawing skills go, don't judge. I basically made little doodles in my notebook and then redid them, bigger, for the big old poster. So I made an Easter egg, an Easter bunny, and a Peep. I miss Peeps...! I also printed out 2 of my old pic's : my first communion and a pic of me with my bro's when I was 2 and we got a pro picture taken complete with bunnies. I also wrote out and translated part of the chorus from the "Easter Parade" song (you know it: "In your Easter bonnet / with all the frills upon it / you'll be the grandest lady in the Easter parade"). Oh, and I translated it to Cuando llevas el sombrero de Pascua / todo de vuelo / serás la mujer más distinguida del desfile de Pascua.

Euro-DST starts today, woop

2009-03-29T16:08:00.002+02:00

I only now just figured out how to change the date settings on my phone so it would read month-day-year instead of day-month-year. The time also used to read that obnoxious 24 hour military thing, now it's back to good old American 12-h time. Hooray.

Big week coming up after this upcoming one. :-D Thursday, we'll be going to a Spanish production of Jesus Christ Superstar (YAY), then we'll be leaving for Germany on Friday morning. It'll be a pretty stressful day, Friday, first getting to Seville on a 3- hour bus (luckily for me, I have the delightful ability to sleep in any/every environment), then we'll mill around the dinky Seville airport to get to Frankfurt that night. This will mark the first time I'll be in a country 1) without speaking the language and 2) not knowing anybody ELSE who speaks the language.

Sure, I'm not completely fluent in Spanish, so I've discovered how body language comes in handy when I've reached a communication impasse, but I'm going to hit a huge wave of culture shock in Germany. And the German language always freaks me out, since you can say anything and it sounds like a death threat. That's probably just being an ignorant American...then again, the Spaniards I've mentioned that to laugh and say they agree, so who knows.

At least my trip to Germany/Austria will be a nice little segue to Belgium, since Dutch and German sound really similar to my ear, kind of like Portuguese and Spanish, like they are mutually intelligible. Not sure, though.

By the way, my Belgian relatives are descendants of my Grandma Boberg's first cousins. Cool, right? My great grandparents left Belgium in 1918 or 19 after WW I with my grandma's older brother and sister, but my grandma wasn't born yet...she was born in 1925, in Illinois. Sidenote: if my grandma HAD been born in Belgium, then I would have an in on the highly coveted dual citizenship, since American grandchildren of European-born grandparents can get a European Union passport on that merit alone. So frustrating! That would mean, then, that my second cousins on my dad's side are eligible for that dual citizenship, since their grandparents (my great uncle Renee and great aunt Irene, both deceased), were born in Belgium. And yet, I'm fairly sure none of them have any interest of living or working in Europe. Murphy's law?

More about family -- I am completely unaware what happened with the Italian and Swedish sides of the fam (my maternal grandpa and paternal grandpa, respectively). My Grandpa Catanzaro grew up hearing his parents speaking Italian, so I'm going to assume you'd only have to go back a few more generations to find out who emigrated from Sicily. Oh, and they changed their last name from whatever it once was to "Catanzaro," for unknown reasons. Catanzaro is a name of a city in the southern region of Calabria in Italy, which isn't even in Sicily. They might have been fugitives, which is kinda funny.
The Swedes are even more of a mystery. Boberg is a swedish name, though, even though most people don't think that. And I don't have the typical Swedish looks, either. I might not ever figure out when or why the Swedes in my family decided to head over to the US, especially because my Grandpa Boberg died in 1996 and all of his siblings are also gone. My Great Uncle Ben died a few years ago. I met one of my Grandpa Boberg's cousins, Glen Slater, within the last 10 years, and he showed my dad and I some of the Swedish family tree, but that stuff is lost on me. My dad would probably know more than I would. I should probably ask my Grandma Boberg what she knows about this whole thing, because I'm confused/curious.

Speaking of closer relatives, I'll be heading to Illinois this summer for a least a week or so to hang out with the grandparents/cousins/aunts/uncles. I'm not exactly sure what we'll be doing, though, probably just catching up and hanging out, and I'll be answering a barrage of questions about what I've done/what I'll be doing with my life. I don't even know yet!

¿viviendo la vida loca...?

2009-03-25T00:55:00.003+01:00

Right now I'm watching mindless American TV and mourning the apparent death of my built in camera card reader. Why did it happen? Come back to me, card reader. This is a cruel joke.

Lots of junk happened since I wrote last. The padres came to Spain, we did a whole lot of stuff, but I think anyone who reads this also sees my facebook. In any case, some photographic highlights (scenery/indoor shots to start, sorry):

Fans at the Alcázar in Seville

The ever-impressive Plaza de España

The enormous, medieval structure, Ávila's "muralla." Bonus points to you if you can find the storks in this pic!!!

Salamanca's "New Cathedral"

The ceiling of a cathedral in Madrid.

Now for pic's with the parents.

With mom in Ávila

With dad at the Alhambra in Granda

The parents doing their "cute" shot at the Alcázar in Seville

With both the parents at Ávila's ridiculously old pig (their city symbol, I think, apart from the wall)

With the girls: Claire, me being burned, Michelle, Emily and Becca (Kim couldn't make it)

Life is good otherwise, despite worrying about future employment. I've reached the home stretch of Spain life, which is weird, but cool. I still have plenty of trips on the horizon, which is exciting. Spring break, AKA "semana santa" (holy week) is not the next week but the one after that. I'll be traveling with Michelle, Becca and Claire for 4 days, then heading off to Belgium for 5. Yay. :)

Lots of stuff going on...sleepy time! Tomorrow is my long day...in Spanish terms, anyway.

In Madrid, otra vez

2009-03-06T21:59:00.002+01:00

I´m being un-Spanish tonight, since I plan on faceplanting in my pillows in T minus one hour, more or less, seeing how I´m completely wrecked. Maybe I figured it´d be the best way to empathize with my soon-to-be jetlagged parents? I´m in Madrid por la noche, and I´m going to get my padres around 9-ish.

Luckily, I was able to meet up with Emma, another conversation assistant, working in Madrid. She´s from the British version of my same program and I met her at the hostel where I was staying in November, along with a bunch of other UK-ers and Aussies and Americans. It´s really odd to hear so many people speaking English, since I´m so used to constant Andaluz (Spanish dialect). The hotel where I´m staying even has two English news stations on, which is cool. It also has a French and a Portuguese station, and I watched the Portuguese one for a long time because I was simply mesmorized by how similar it sounds to Spanish --I could understand virtually every sentence, and if there was a word I didn´t get, it made sense it context. So weird. I had no idea that Portuguese and Spanish were THAT mutually intelligible, even though when I´ve heard Portuguese briefly, before, it sounded like the inbred child of French and Spanish.

Emma was able to tell me how exactly to get from the center of Madrid to my hotel, so that was pretty cool. Being alone in a hotel isn´t, so much, but oh well.

The padres and I will be hitting up Madrid, Toledo and Salamanca in the next three days, then we´ll be returning to the Andalucía region so I can get to work. After work, we´ll be going to Seville, Córdoba and Granada, on different days. It´s going to be a whirlwind tour and the guide is yours truly...I´m a bit irked about the being the group communicator, but it´s all good. The worst part will be ordering food, no doubt, seeing how I´m not quite knowledgeable about all food vocabulary, especially when it´s just Spanish food. I do have one tip for any potential visitors, though: a Spanish tortilla is not a quesadilla, or anything that is normally found in the US. You have been forewarned...

After the ´rents leave, I´ll have a few weeks just to chill in Cabra...hooray. Truth be told, I´m more of a homebody than a traveler extraordinaire, even though I like both...obviously. No doubt the constant moving around from my teen years has contributed to the omnipresent bee in my bonnet to travel.

(Wow, I am clearly out of my mind tired when I type things like that...woops!)

Time to watch more Portuguese TV and then hit it. ¡Buenas noches!

back from Irlanda

2009-03-03T03:04:00.010+01:00

I spent the long weekend in Ireland (Andalucía had a holiday weekend -- funny that all the English speakers fly the coop, then)! My Irish family made contact relatively recently -- Bernadette, my cousin, already met several of my second cousins, some whom I still have never met in my life, for some reason. Probably has to do with the distance issue, being that we left Illinois in 1988. I can't remember who, exactly, made it to my Grandma and Grandpa Catanzaros' 50th wedding anniversary in 2004, either.

Woops on the tangent.

Ireland was incredible. And the saying is that the place is immaterial without the its inhabitants is true. Everyone was warm, welcoming and eager to meet more of their American family. I learned more about my Great, Great Grandma Moriarity and her reasons for leaving Ireland. It had to do with the Potato Famine (An Gorta Mór) which still managed to ravage the country decades afterward. Bridget was born in 1875 and I'm not entirely sure of the circumstances surrounding her departure and whether it was her idea or her husband's, really. Also, it seems like it must have been a miracle that they survived what was probably a horrendous journey by boat, for weeks, probably eating possibly rancid food and living in squalor, with nothing and nowhere to go, I'm sure.
Makes me wonder if they thought they had made a big mistake.

I read The Gravedigger's Daughter which is about a German family who emigrated to the states in the 1930s and the prejudice they endure about being Jews and, paradoxically, being looked down upon for Nazism. Anyway, the whole immigrant issue is fascinating to me. The fact that I could've ended up in Ireland, too, blows my mind. But I'm not only Irish, so I suppose I wouldn't have been born at all, since I'm such a mixture of the meetings of fellow immigrants, all milling about Chicago and building a new foundation.

The majority of my weekend was spent in County Kerry, or with the family in Cahersiveen, a cute, small town in the Ring of Kerry. I keep thinking about how I'll have to translate my trip into Spanish for my coworkers, tomorrow, and I'm curious to see their reactions. They were worried I was going off half-cocked and maybe my family wasn't sure if they wanted me there, but I can safely assure them I was prepared by my Great Aunt Liz's advice and her stories about Ireland and our family there. They really were fantastic, very accommodating, unwilling to take a quid from me, it seemed, which racked me with guilt. I spent 10 euro as a donation to Mary Daly's Special Olympics fund and I gave 20 p to the church to light a candle, a family tradition, and then I put some loose change in the collection basket and later in a cancer hospice care collection.

Mary Daly -- I can't say enough about her kindness, bubbly personality and active lifestyle. She is bursting with activity and life and is up for a good card game, chat, meal or hike at any given moment. She cooked for us (Cabbage and "bacon," which looked to me more like a ham and pork hybrid, to me -- the tenderness of good pork and a slight salty flavor of ham -- my favorite...it wasn't fried). She made tea and coffee (in a French press, too!) and also had tea biscuits. She has an infectious smile, too. She has had a very full life with a good deal of green pastures with the ocassional flood -- one would imagine that would be the case, what with 9 children. Oh, and 14 grandchildren. And the occasional visitor from the USA -- descendents of her own aunt, Bridget Moriarity.

Enjoy these videos -- more are on the way. Keep in mind, this is raw footage. I'll be putting up an edited video ASAP.

....Now I'm back to the grind. Here's some stuff I have coming up to do presentations about and so forth, and there will be comprehension exercises. We'll be chugging forth with present simple irregulars (barely right now, more in the future). Also, I like asking questions that will generate a negative response, because the kids have to think about it slightly more. And I don't take monosyllabic answers for it, they have to conjugate the verb and make sure the person is correct. Also, I have one student read the question then another respond. I have plenty of opportunities to fine tune (sometimes overhaul) pronunciation problems, which are generally predictable at this stage. My students really need to get to the point where they relinquish their idea that English is a phonetic language, because it isn't even a relative of the completely phonetic Spanish language.

woooooooooooooooooooooooo....!

2009-02-26T01:16:00.002+01:00

Today was un día fantástico, hooray...

Tomorrow I'm going to Ireland, and today I got a call from my Gianna, the lady whose house I lived in while I studied abroad two years ago, in Florence. I saw the Italian country code pop up on my phone and my eyes got huge, in anticipation of a) having to speak Italian in the next breath and b) thinking about Gianna being on the other end. The first thing she said after "pronto" (which is what Italians say when they answer the phone -- it means "ready") was "non posso credere che sto parlando con Megan!" or, "I can't believe I'm talking to May-gahn!" It was pretty funny, but then I got kinda nervous, since my Italian speaking skills have gone straight down the crapper. After a couple seconds, I told her it was almost "quasi impossibile" for me to speak Italian, but then she insisted, claiming that my emails are so well-written, so I MUST be able to speak Italian. Ack. Note: writing in another language is a thousand times easier than speaking it, seeing how you can look up conjugation and vocabulary instead of thinking about those things on the spot.

Anyway....(stream of consciousness writing, sorry)...She told me I had to visit her, so we decided I'll go see her April 30th - May 4th. Yay! Another note: still impressed that I was able to piece together several coherent (though horribly grammatically incorrect) Italian phrases together on the phone.

Now the daunting task of brushing up on Italian during the next 8ish weeks so I'll be able to hold a semi-decent conversazione. Actually, Gianna does in fact speak English pretty well, but if the phone call was any indication, apparently I'm expected to speak Italian. Mehhhh.

Good times...now I have to finish packing for Ireland to see my fourth cousins. That's right. My dad figured it out. And according to Wikipedia's article on consanguinity, that means these people and I share a Great³-grandparent. I have no idea who this common relative is (errr, was), anyway, other than the fact that the people who I'm visiting are descendents of my maternal great, great grandmother's brother. Or, my great, great uncle. My great, great Irish grandmother decided to get outta Ireland, for whatever reason. I'd kind of like to know those circumstances, it'd be interesting to hear, I'm sure. Anyway, if you go back another generation from that lady, there is the common grandparent with the people I'll be seeing. Thinking about family trees kind of makes my brain explode...

OK gonna go face plant in my pillows.
One last thing: I'm psyched to hear these Irish accents, tomorrow.

stuff I've worked on lately

2009-02-25T13:13:00.002+01:00

algo diferente, hoy

2009-02-24T11:54:00.003+01:00

Something weird: students here call their teachers by their first names. Hmm...

The Spanish press predictably went a bit nuts about Penélope Cruz winning the best supporting actress oscar.

I leave for Ireland in a few days (YAY)!!!

My roommates and I figured out what we're doing for Semana Santa AKA spring break. The plan is to hit up Germany, Austria and the Czech Republic. I'm planning on doing Germany, but then the plan is to break off and visit my Belgian relatives, again.

I still want to go to Italy, again. I wrote a letter to my host mom, Gianna, in Florence, but she has yet to respond. She sent me a postcard a little while back, so hopefully she'd be up for a visit from me...I miss her food...

Stuff I have to do: give kids my handout/homework about Tchaikovsky, make a powerpoint about stuff having to do with the present simple/continuous, make a handout about the color wheel, decide what I'm doing for some tutoring classes coming up...that's about it. The bell just rang, gotta head to la clase de música. Hasta ahora.

Go chase your dragon and I'll chase mine

2009-02-12T23:57:00.005+01:00

So much for Beckham making his big Euro comeback -- the Spanish national fútbol team beat the Brits yesterday, in Seville. One of the highlights of watching fútbol on TV is the Spanish announcers. GOOOOOOL!!!!!!!!!!

Andalucía is also a happier place because the tiempo is totally mejor these days. After a month of so of rain every day, suddenly we have lots of sun, which is great. I finally got to ride my bike to school, again, which is especially fun to ride back from school, since it's downhill the whole way back. Oh, and I can hang my clothes to dry outside and only wait a few hours for them to dry as opposed to a week + indoors -- it would undoubtedly dry faster if we had central heating, but what can ya do.

After that I watched some of My Big Fat Greek Wedding on TV -- dubbed, of course. It was kind of amusing how a lot of the jokes wouldn't have much/any meaning for a Spaniard. For example, in one of the scenes, a family member brings home a giant, dead lamb to cook on a spit in the yard, which wouldn't really be seen as funny to the typical Spaniard, seeing how most of them have a giant pig leg in their kitchens at any given moment. I'm pretty sure the Spaniards would side with the Greeks in seeing it as normal. That, and getting drunk off Ouzo the first time you meet your future in-laws.

Woo.

good times

2009-02-06T23:25:00.004+01:00

Remember how I said Cabra doesn't have international food? Well, this week is AMERICAN FOOD WEEK at the Lidl store, so today I went with Claire to stock up on some tasty treats. After we went, I made myself some s'mores over our stove and burned a finger on a marshmallow. I always did enjoy my marshmallows toasty roasty and burnt -- I even had a rabbit named Burnt Marshmallow when I was a kid (clearly I was a strange kid, but that should be clear, seeing how they usually grow up to be strange adults).

Yesterday, my coworker Carmen showed me something in the paper about American food week and I almost projectile vom'ed since the first thing I saw was hot dogs in a jar. I may enjoy the occasional Chicago-style dog, but that image was disturbing.

Speaking of Carmen, after I got done tutoring her kids yesterday, I ended up staying over and talking for about 4 hours. That's how they do it in Spain - you don't visit, you spend a portion of your day at the inviter's home. Good times. I ended up meeting her husband for the first time -- Paco. Paco is also the name of his father, and his son, and apparently little Paco is in a line of 7. So...I guess the original Paco would be his great-great-great-great grandfather. Interesting. Anyway, my tongue felt like it was in a knot afterwards -- even though I speak Spanish every day, here, it's usually not for hours on end.

Cabra continues to be cold and rainy and yucky. We've had rain every day for weeks, here, but apparently it's going to clear up on Tuesday. Let's hope so -- I was told southern Spain had weather just like southern California, and that's only true for spring-fall. The winter is miserably rainy. It's not particularly cold, though, but it feels like it since Spaniards haven't all caught on to the phenomena of carpet, central heating and clothes dryers. I have to determine when I'm going to do my laundry on account of the weather, because without being able to hang clothes to dry outside, it takes a good week for stuff to dry in my cold, dark apartment. Obnoxious.

What else -- oh yeah, I'm reapplying to stay here. Not that I'm even sure I WANT to, but I figured it's a good idea to keep my options open, what with the US economy being in the crapper. Ironically, Spain's is, too, it's just that it would probably be easier to renew my position here than look for some entry-level type job in the US. It's been causing my roommates and me a ton of stress and anxiety. Sucks. All I know is I want to write in some capacity when I get back, but of course journalism is ALSO in the crapper because written publications don't fly off the shelves, thanks to the internet. Ad revenue is what is giving newspapers a weak pulse, seeing how subscriptions and hard copies don't sell nearly as well as they used to. Musicians are always in the limelight as far as stealing songs go, but what about reading something that someone worked hard to produce for free? People have a right to know what's going on, of course, but it just seems like a catch 22. I definitely want to make some dollah dollah billz for my future career. And it should ALSO be pointed out that journalists make crap pay, to begin with.

Sigh.

School is bueno. Yesterday in art class I was teaching the kids how to describe what's in an image, so it included a bunch of vocabulary drilling and preposition knowledge. Another odd thing was hardly anyone seemed capable of grasping the "there is/there are" concept, probably because in Spanish it's simply "hay" for both. Still, I said that "there is" is only for singular objects and the other is for plural. Another problem was remembering that in English, the adjective comes before the noun. Oh, and another kid asked me what "and" means, it took all my willpower to keep my palm from hitting my forehead...I think I just blinked.
Other stuff we're going over is the simple present tense and giving directions. Conjugation is considerably easier in English than in Spanish, so the kids are lucky on that front.

One other thing -- I got a potential translation gig with one of my student's dad's company. They want their web site to have translations in English, and I have to applaud the fact that they're hiring a native speaker rather than settling on some shoddy automatic translation that I see so often, over here. It's pretty hilarious, actually.

Last thing -- the pic's here were created by yours truly...they're screenshots from my powerpoint presentations. Fun stuff.

back in the blogging world

2009-02-03T11:32:00.003+01:00

Hola a todos --

This weekend I went skiing for the first time ever, which was pretty bueno. If you haven't already seen on facebook, take a look at my skiing debut:

I'm hoping I can go back again soon, it was great. The worst part was getting up after falling -- I still haven't quite mastered how to do that, well. The other problem I had was turning right, which is harder than turning left. I figured out that the reason for that is because your dominant leg is the same as your dominant hand (usually), and that's the one you push off of while turning. So when I would turn right, I would have to push off my left leg and negotiate my weight in order to get 'er done. Another problem I had was I would have the mistaken notion that moving my butt back would somehow slow me down when I would end up just falling flat on my ass, in the end. Woops. My butt was in a constant state of snow covered-ness. Still can't wait to go back, though...!

Not too much new. This weekend my roommates and I might be going to Priego to a Chinese restaurant there. I miss Chinese food...there isn't any international food in Cabra, whatsoever. I think when I was home for winter break, I got Mexican food about 12 times. Yumtastic.

Other stuff -- the roommates and I are getting geared up for spring break. They have a whole itinerary planned to hit up Austria and Germany and somewhere else. I'm not sure about the whole shebang, yet.

Anyway that's about all that's new right now, really. Hasta pronto.

Back in Spain...physically, anyway

2009-01-15T12:09:00.004+01:00

I've been back in Spain for about 3 days by now. I've had to readjust to life here. It feels great to be back and get back into a routine, which includes incorporating certain New Year's Resolutions (however lame the idea may be).

Speaking Spanish again has been a bit of a struggle, but I think I'm getting back into the swing of things. When I was at the Málaga train station at a cafe, the guy at the counter had to point to his mouth to ask me if I wanted something to eat -- that's how disoriented I was. I guess I can blame some of that on jet lag, though, right? Right??

The trip, fortunately, was smooth sailing (flying?). British Airways officially has my thumbs up compared to their American counterparts. I decided to up the cheesy factor to ridiculous levels and watch Love Story on the plane, from a list of available movies ("Love means never having to say you're sorry" *cue piano riff for 200th time*) Afterwards, I was all excited to see that The Office was aired on the plane, too, but it turned out it was the British version, which is fine, except for the fact that I've seen most of those ep's before. But I watched it again, anyway.

Turns out Cassie, a girl in my program, was on the same flight that I was on the way from London to Málaga. We didn't realize that fact, however, until we saw each other waiting in the passport control line. We ended up taking a short train ride to the bus/train station and hung out there for a few hours. It was awesome to catch up again and have a sort of transition from American to Spanish life, instead of being tossed in the deep end immediately.

Going back to teaching is going well, so far -- yesterday I worked 3 on 1 with students and we worked on transportation vocabulary and present simple conjugation. I'm working on getting the kids to actually TALK more, in English, rather than giving me a puzzled look and immediately reverting to Spanish. A few of them have succeeded in driving me crazy with the constant inquiries in Spanish, so I'll put my hands palm-up, raise my shoulders/eyebrows and walk away. Sometimes I'll just say "I don't speak Spanish" or "no sale" or something along those lines.

Already I've had 2 requests for private English classes, and it's a bit ironic, seeing how I took my posters down (or others did) MONTHS ago. The thing is, now that the first semester is over and kids got crap grades, they decide to take lessons. After work today I'm meeting up with a 20 year old girl who is one of my student's older sisters. It would be awesome if she lives in Cabra and I could potentially add a Spanish friend to our little social circle here in Cabra...I may have mentioned it once or twice (or a thousand times): Cabra is filled with old people. The bracket of 18 to 30 year olds is nill, here. Frown Town.

Anyway, I have to get cracking on a poster which sums up all the activities that took place during the first semester, then I have to work on a project for next week's protest against violence. Hooray.

Still on break, stateside

2008-12-29T11:07:00.003+01:00

Here I am in California, still -- my latest project is making a Spain scrapbook. Yesterday, while looking for photos to scan with my mom's new scanner (which she got from my dad, for xmas), I came across a ginormous stack on scrapbook materials. That got me to thinking that I would make a new scrapbook ~ one of my favorite pasttimes. Cheesy, I guess, but whatever. I guess I have a little bit of Martha Stewart in me or something.

Not much else to say...I've been reading El País, Spain's main newspaper, online, to keep up with my Spanish. I also just watched a Spanish movie on Netflix the other day, for kicks. I'm thinking I should keep up with that once I get back to Spain, or maybe just watch a bunch of Spanish TV, so I can acclimate my ear to Spanish more. Living with Americans and interacting with them more than anyone else really cuts down on my Spanish speaking practice, unfortunately.

I have my GRE test in a week and a half -- I feel really unprepared and a bit freaked out about it, but oh well. I might just take it twice, anyway. Right now I'm working on a couple grad school app's, but I'm not sure if they'll lead to anything. I'm not quite sure what I want to do with my life, still...stressful decision making, bleh.

it's the future: wireless internet in flight.

2008-12-22T04:11:00.002+01:00

Was anyone previously aware that wireless internet is available in flight, these days? Bizarre.

That would probably be the best thing that has happened to me today -- and that is a sad, sad statement about my day. To sum it up, I arrived from Madrid to NYC yesterday at 5:30 p.m. and sat on the runway for a solid hour after landing, just idle, doing nothing; then I missed my flight to LA because by the time I went through customs my flight had already taken off. Gone. No more flights left to LA all night, so I had to be put up in a hotel for the night and given a voucher ~ then I woke up this morning for my flight, but it turns out it took SO SO long to get through check in and security (not to mention the fact that I had to be randomly screened, for no reason), that I missed THAT flight, too. Aaaand then the whole day I had to keep waiting to be picked up from the standby list -- 6 times! And the agents who assist with the standby list were complete a-holes to me, until the time I was waiting for my 4th standby flight and I couldn't take it anymore and was near tears and the guy who was behind the counter managed to magically confirm a seat for me for a flight that was 2 hours out from that point in time.

Now I'm on said flight, but THIS flight, too, just sat on the god forsaken runway for TWO. HOURS. before we even took off. Now I have 5 hours left of my 6.5 hour flight....AHHHHHH.

/end of complaining.

I'm kind of sad to be out of Spain, even though I'll only be gone for 3 weeks. I had some sort of weird, reversed culture shock getting off the plane, yesterday, and looking at my American money, which also feels weird (texture) compared to euros. The FOOD, however, was something I had completely missed in the past 3 months I've been expatriated in España. Truth be told, I'm not the biggest fan of most Spanish food. I'm not a picky eater, or anything, but certain aspects of Spanish food freak me out (enormous pig legs always on display, fish with the heads always attached, everything bathed in olive oil because it's muy sano "very healthy," etc.).

While I'm home, I'm going to have to read El País, the newspaper, a lot while I'm home so I can keep up with my Spanish. Also, I'm planning on watching some Spanish movies -- I started watching some while I was waiting for my flight, today by the magic of netflix instant viewing. I did a bit of reading in Spanish on the flight, already, because for some reason there's a magazine in Spanish provided by the airline in the pocket thing in front of my seat.

Anyway...what did I do before I left Spain, since my last update? I went to the city of Córdoba, which is the capital of the province where I live, to get my NIE card. I've mentioned it before -- it's called NIE which means numero de identificación de extranjeros, or foreigner's number identification card. I also went to a Christmas dinner party with the faculty of my school, and got to witness a bunch of blitzed Spaniards, it was great. I, too, was feeling pretty piripi (tipsy) by the time I left. Unfortunately, I had to leave early in order to make it to Seville, since my flight was going to leave the next morning.

Cat, a girl I met in Seville during orientation, was my lovely hostess in Seville, and she was really generous about everything in her apartment and let me sleep in her bed and she went over to her boyfriend's apartment to sleep that night. I met her boyfriend, Kike (short for Enrique), and he is fluent in English, so that was cool. We spoke in Spanish almost the whole time, regardless, just because I want to practice it as much as I can.

Good news: some random guy named Pablo, who is my age, got in contact with the American girls in Cabra through his mom, who is an English teacher at one of the language academies, there. He met up with us the other night, and he, also, speaks pretty good English. I'm hoping when we get back that maybe he will hang out with us girls some more so I can get in more Spanish practice. Even though I'm living in Spain, I don't usually speak in Spanish for long periods of time, since I'm living with Americans. I am trying to speak Spanish a lot while I'm at school, more and more, and strike up conversations with the professors so I can get more experience. Hearing people speak and reading Spanish is all well and good, but speaking a foreign language often and perfecting it is the best way to actually learn it. I could read something in Italian right now and get the gist (I minored in Italian, fyi), but my speaking ability in Italian, at the moment, is abyssmal, unfortunately...don't use it, ya lose it, y'know.

I'll get back to España on January 12th. I'm not sure if I'll be traveling much in January, yet. Truth be told, I get a bit tired of the constant frenzy of deciding where to go every single weekend...sometimes I just enjoy being a bum at home and not having to pack and plan a commute and so on. Don't get me wrong, I love seeing new places, it's just the constant trip planning that can be a bit exhausting.

Speaking of upcoming travels, I do have one trip planned, already ~ I'll be heading to IRELAND in late February to meet my Irish relatives for the first time, and I'm thrilled. It should be a great experience. And I'll probably be heading to Italy in April for holy week, but other than that, no other plans yet.

Anyway, I'm gonna wrap it up for now...I'm fading. It's 5 a.m. in Spain right now and I'm all disoriented and exhausted after my long, ridiculous day. Well, two days, since I left yesterday morning, from Seville. Buenas noches.

Singin' "wonder do I ever cross your mind"

2008-12-12T15:31:00.010+01:00

Christmas time is here. Spain is all about the belén presentations (nativity scene), and that includes massive, ridiculous displays. I was all confused about why there were bricklayers in front of the town hall in Cabra with a big tarp lying over a chain-link fence, but now I know...it was for this.
In the spirit of Navidad, I played "Feliz Navidad" and "Frosty the Snowman" approximately 12 billion times for the little kids that I tutor, and I'm pretty sure they loved that. We also are learning the alphabet, and so far we've gotten through F and then just "la la la."

I was told that the next town over one-upped us by having live animals at their belén.

Amusing: baby Jesus isn't at the nativity. He'll magically appear in a few weeks, I suppose, but for now Mary and Joseph still have wistful expressions on their plastic faces. Also missing are the wise men, but I guess they wouldn't show up before Jesus did, right?

Next week, the day before I leave, there will be a big "comida" for Christmas for everybody who works at my instituto. I already saw the menu, and it's typical Spanish fare with a few things I've never heard of but am afraid to try, such as murcillo. Essentially like chorizo, only with pig blood in it, or something...

My bilingual coordinator asked me to make a Christmas poster for my school, and the thing is huge. Not wanting to clip out pictures from magazines, I decided to print out pictures that are mostly all mine except for a few that show gaudy displays of Christmas lights on homes.

I have a photo of Pat and me on Santa's lap in 1988, another with me + Dan + Pat in 1992, a picture of the three of us in an actual Christmas card from 2001, the family in front of the Rockefeller Christmas tree in NYC, a turkey dinner picture that Marieta and Pat made, Sam and I in front of a Christmas tree in 2003, Mandy and I walking outside in the snow...that's mostly it. I also printed out a cartoon with a turkey holding a newspaper saying "Gee, I hate to read the obituaries after Christmas." I told Emily I told my kids about turkey dinners, and she said "What about ham?" and I said then I'd have to specify that Americans don't have "jamón" like their Spaniard counterparts (ham literally shaved off an enormous pig leg, hoof still attached -- creepy). I also made more than 20 paper snowflakes -- yes, I made all of those. Hooray for me. I also made the block letters.

I've also been filling up my time hanging out with my profesores and their kids. Good opportunity to practice Spanish and play with little kids. Yesterday, Claire and I went over to one of the English teacher/Gym teacher's house (they're married) and play with 3 year-old Anita, their daughter. Anita was like I was as a little kid, that is, really shy and leery of strangers. I had already met her once before, but she still was a bit hesitant to play. Next time, hopefully.
After that, Claire, Becca and I went over to our landlord's other work place -- they're dental technicians and make crowns/dentures/dental appliances, so that was cool to see. I mentioned I wanted an "abrigo blanco," and of course Europeans aren't like "gee isn't that cute," they actually go find one and put it on you. So we took pictures wearing them and "working." Then I watched my landlord, Juan de's, brother working. His name is Jose Luis, and his son Pablo was watching, too. I would pick up the instrument things and tell Pablo I would take out all his teeth -- he's so cute and travieso.

Today I might go back over to my bilingual coordinator's piso and hang out and maybe play with the dog, Canela. So cute. David and Elvira, the gym and English teacher (respectively), live directly above Carlos and Noelia, his girlfriend, who ALSO works at my school...follow?

back after a long derilection of duty.

2008-12-08T01:57:00.002+01:00

Here I am in a hostel in Madrid at 2 a.m. and I realized I haven´t updated this bad boy in a long time (relatively speaking). My bad.

Madrid has been awesome, I´ve met a bunch of new people, too. Turns out all those British conversation assistants are swarming about Madrid, since I met a ton of them. Today I also got the chance to travel outside of Madrid and hit up a little city of 55K people in the Castilla y León region called Ávila with a group of Brits. It´s also a province and the capital of its own province. It is most famous for its enormous medieval fortress and it´s been preserved since it was built in 900 AD. Impressive, right? It´s a mile long and pretty tall, too, and offers a great view of the town and the mountains in the distance. The weather was pretty crappy and cold, but oh well.

One of the best parts about going to Ávila was getting to travel with the Brits I met at my hostel the other night. I was downstairs in the hostel bar and we struck up a conversation with a group of Brits, an Aussie and an Irish guy. Yesterday I met up with a bigger group of them and we went out for drinks and tapas -- the best part of that was the fact that the tapas were free with the cheap drinks. The catch to that was the fact that the bar was loud and extremely crowded. Also smoky, but that goes without saying in Spain. I really hate it when my clothes and hair reek of smoke after being in a bar here, but what can ya do.

Other things I´ve seen since I´ve been here...I hit up the Museo Reina Sofia with Carole and her sister and saw the Guernica by Picasso. It depicts the Spanish civil war and if it weren´t for the cubistic surrealism, it would pack a bit more punch, IMO. It was pretty impressive, not to mention huge. We all had to stand pretty far away from it. Luckily, I spent 3€ in order to have a headset, so that increased my appreciation for the painting. That would probably be the highlight of the Reina Sofia. Tomorrow my goal is to hit up the Prado Museum before I leave Madrid at 2 pm...the bus ride back to my pueblo is 6 hours and change, since I have to change buses in Córdoba on the way.

Speaking of Córdoba, next week or the week after I´ll have to pick up my foreigners card thing, which is essentially Spain´s equivalent of the green card. It´s been really obnoxious getting around without it, at times, but I just show my passport with my Spanish visa and usually that´s good enough. But it´s been a huge pain getting into the health clinic without it.

That brings me to something else - this past week I was getting over strep which I caught from Carole in Scotland. I came down hard with a massive headache right when I got back from Scotland, and then another the night of Thanksgiving. The morning after, my throat looked like a red and white golf ball and I was sweating profusely. So I went with Emily to the health clinic and managed to sputter out a few horribly grammatically incorrect sentences about how I felt miserable and achy and I ended up with Paracetamol and Erythromycin. I went back in 3 days and ended up getting stronger antibiotics (500 mg of zithromax) and another kind of painkiller and chloroseptic spray. The chloroseptic spray nearly made me yak, but it was also a lifesaver. Anyway, enough of that grossness.

I don´t have any pic´s for this post, my bad. I´ll have pic´s in the near future when I swipe them from Luke and the Brits who I was with. It turns out I left my camera in Cabra, oh well. I realized this as I was on the way to the Cabra bus station, but I didn´t think I´d have time to turn around and get it and still make it. Sucks, but oh well.

Next week I´m going to have to get ready to teach the Spanish kids about American Christmas traditions, so I´m going to teach them about how we put Christmas lights on our houses and have turkey dinners and whatnot...it took me awhile to think of some American things that they don´t do in Spain, too. We also have songs that they´re not familiar with, so I´m going to play those for them. I plan on playing the ¨Feliz Navidad¨ song (I wanna wish you a merry xmas from the bottom of my heart) since I teach kids who are in their first year of English and those dozenish words will be enough for them to digest, no doubt. Maybe I´ll do Feliz Navidad and one other song. I just really need to get my kids to SPEAK more, since they freeze up and don´t want to say anything in English to me or will just say ¨¿eso qué es?¨ or related BS when I ask a question. Drives me crazy.

Anyway, I´m thinking I should get off this computer so I don´t get told to get the eff out of this room like I was last night while I was reading. I´m so happy that tonight I´m in a room of only 8 people -- so nice. You may think ¨wtf¨ to that, but the first night I was in a room of 16, at least 3 of which were snoring. Absolutely obnoxious.
All right, I´m off. Hasta pronto

back in españa

2008-11-26T10:32:00.003+01:00

Today I walked into the teacher's lounge and I was a bit shocked at what I saw on the front page. The headline for the main story is "An average of 100 women report abuse every month in Córdoba." But that wasn't the shocking part.

Look at the women to the left. Notice anything strange? Well, apparently if you're Spanish, you won't notice anything in particular. I was a bit shocked to see half-naked women on the front page of a newspaper, then I remembered oh yeah, I'm in Europe. Still, isn't it kind of ironic that the women are protesting domestic violence but they're just out there lettin' it all hang out?

By the way, yesterday was the National Day Against Domestic Violence here in Spain. Apparently that involves outdoor interpretative dance in the nude?

Anyway, I'm back from my trip to Edinburgh, or in Spanish, Edimburgo. We got there on Thursday night and drove on the left side of the road (hooray UK) to our hostel to check in, then get food. We went to a traditional Scottish place and got some fish and chips or shepherd's pie or whatnot. Scottish food isn't really all that exciting, in my opinion. Two of the other girls really wanted to try haggis, but I wasn't all that thrilled about the prospect of eating sheep intestines, so I passed on that. We went to bed a bit early because Carole was still recovering from strep -- yes, strep. Two of the other girls, Corey and Steph, went out to see more of Grassmarket plaza, which was right by our hostel. I, for one, was ready to get out of the cold since it felt like the windchill would make the temp somewhere under freezing. Horrible.

We did our guided tour in the a.m. and went around the tacky tourist shops in central Edinburgh, too. The tour was helpful in teaching me about Scottish history, which I knew almost nothing about. It turns out that Edinburgh has a whole bunch of morbid stories from torture and witch trials and war prisons to serial killers who sold their victims to the medical college for money. Who knew? I also got to go on a nifty, nighttime underground tour of the creepy Edinburgh vaults. So creepy. Apparently there's paranormal activity down there, too, if you happen to believe in that hoohah. Either way, it was creepy to be down in some cold, wet, dark vault where there used to be rampant crime and death. The vaults were unknown for 150 years because they were boarded up. More info: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edinburgh_vaults . Creepy.

Other stuff we did there was sample some real Scotch whiskey, see the Scottish parliament, see the Edinburgh castle, and do some general shopping. I managed to find a bookstore which was a welcome discovery. There are no English language bookstores near where I live, so it was nice to find some books to take back with me. Today I'm going to start reading Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell, the same guy who wrote Blink, which I suggest you read if you haven't already. Last night I just finished Running With Scissors and that is a ridiculously weird book. I would recommend you read it if you have a strong stomach and aren't grossed out by some vulgar stuff. Pretty funny, too, though.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. It's kind of weird that I'll be spending the day in another country, but them's the breaks. I'm in charge of making apple pie for tomorrow, so I have to jump on buying those ingredients and looking up translations for the ingredients in Spanish. Fun stuff.

Other than that -- not much is new. Life is back to the grind for the next couple weeks until I go home for Christmas. I am going to Madrid with a couple girls in a few weeks, so that will be fun. Not much else to report.

OK I'm gonna go down to the little cafeteria and get some espresso (they just say café, but no, it is ESPRESSO to our American standards, thank you very much).

Back to school, back to school, to prove to dad that I'm not a fool...

2008-11-18T12:18:00.003+01:00

...I guess song that doesn't exactly apply when I'm the profesora. Vale, no me importa.

Random observation: I find it a little strange that students here don't address the teachers at "Mrs." or "Mr." whatever, they just say "Maestr@" (teacher). Another thing: the "@" symbol denotes a masculine or feminine adjective or noun. I just thought about that because a student walked into the teacher's lounge and said that...

Today I don't have all that much to do other than conversation hours with teachers. I'm not going to the music class today because they have a test, so I'm just hanging out in the teacher's lounge. I'm lucky to have internet and a little café at my school, too, so I can relax while I'm not doing anything in particular. Today I've been looking at El País online, which is one of Spain's biggest newspapers. I have an enormous list of vocab just from reading up online.

The most helpful resource to improve my Spanish is chatting with the professors, especially the ones who are bilingual. Usually they will speak to me in Spanish, though, but that's good for me. I keep freezing up every so often and I can't think of even one sentence in Spanish...so frustrating. Good to know I studied Spanish for years on end and I still stress out about subjunctive verbs, especially when they're irregular or in any tense other than present. I really need to review subjunctive...I should have brought my Spanish grammar books with me to Spain. I'll have to get those when I go back to the US. Not to mention I'll have to bring a bunch of English books with me in order to teach it better for my tutoring classes.

Speaking of tutoring, yesterday I got two calls from the fliers I have been putting up. One call was from a lady who teaches at one of the language institutes here, and she was p.o.'ed that I put up a flyer for classes near her school. OK, lady, it's a public place and it wasn't like it was right on the door of the school or something really brash like that. Another call was from a lady who wants classes for her 8 year old daughter, but I was really distracted by the music playing at Mercadona (grocery store), so I have to call her back to talk about today. Tonight I'm going back to teach Marta and Paco, at seven.

I met other professors' children last weekend -- Beatriz invited me to go out with her and Daniela in the parque, and we ended up seeing Elvira and David with their daughter, Ana. So I got to play with little kids, which was a lot of fun.

I learned some new vocab words there, too, such as columpio, which means "swing." Tobogán is "slide." And the little rocks (roquitas) on the playground, which Daniela wanted to put in her mouth, are "caca." Clearly.

What else is going on...oh yeah, big news in Spain today: two of the leaders of ETA ("Euzkadi ta Azkatasuna," which is the terrorist group in the Basque country here in Spain), were captured and put in prison in France. The main guy's name is Txeroki, which is pronounced like "Cherokee." The Basque Country is a small part of Spain where they speak Basque and Spanish, but some of them want to secede. Basque, by the way, is a completely different language from Spanish. Unlike Catalan, Valencian or Galician, which are all separate languages spoken in regions of Spain, Basque doesn't derive from Latin. In fact, it doesn't have a known parent language. I don't know much about it, yet, but I've seen the terrorists doing their...terrorism (?) on the news. It's weird, too, because a lot of the things they show on the news here would never be played in the US. And when they show the terrorists being arrested, it's the cops who wear ski masks so they won't be recognized and hunted down by other ETA members. Loco.

Y ya está por ahora. Or...that's it for now.

keep on keepin' on

2008-11-11T22:19:00.002+01:00

Hopefully today will mark the end of having to do official stuff foreigners have to do to live here. Well, that's not true, because I still need to set up a bank account. Lameeee. Today I had to go to Córdoba (before the sun came up) in order to do more junk to get my NIE card: numero de identificación por extranjeros which is more or less Spain's version of the green card. I left on the 6:30 a.m. bus here in Cabra to get to Córdoba for an appointment at the police department to turn in even more paperwork and get fingerprinted. Joy of joys. I got the actual number of my NIE card, but I won't get the actual card for another month and then I'll have to go back to Córdoba AGAIN to pick it up. Rahhhhh, curses.

Other stuff ~ this evening I did my first tutoring class, ever. I worked with Marta and Paco, who are brother and sister. Marta is 7 and Paco is 4, and their mother is Carmen, a teacher at my school. They were adorable, but I'm going to have to figure out methods that work to teach young children, because it's clearly different from middle/high school-aged kids. The attention-span issue is frustrating for me, but it's hard to get angry at a 4 year-old, especially when s/he's so cute. I started as a language TA for 101 classes in college, now I just keep going down in age...eek.
This weekend I'm doing another private tutoring class for a college student who comes home during the weekends. She originally was going to be taught by Emily, but Emily is already doing so many classes that she is offering to give a bunch of her people to the rest of us girls since she feels swamped. Must be nice, though, since she's making an extra 300 euro a month for her efforts. If we were in a bigger city, we'd be able to make almost twice that, but the cost of living would eat up all the extra cash, so it's the same in the end.

Over the weekend I put up a ton of flyers advertising tutoring, but I was frustrated to see that a lot of them were removed. I guess they were either in places were posters frequently get removed, but I'm still annoyed. I'm going to copy more flyers tomorrow at school and put up more around town on lamp posts and big bulletin boards I see in town. I'm confused why my flyers were pulled off the bulletin boards, too. How irritating. I have a feeling that word of mouth advertising is much more effective than the flyers, but I'm going to do both and see where it gets me.

Other than official stuff -- life's not bad. Emily was here for the weekend and I showed her around my little pueblo and had some fun. This weekend will probably be low key and I'll just be hanging out in Cabra, but the weekend after this one I'll be in Edinburgh, Scotland with Carole, who lives in Málaga, and two other girls from Málaga who I've never met. I'm super psyched, yay!

Anyway, I'm wiped from getting up at 5-something this morning, so I'm going to faceplant in my pillows. Buenas noches.

Fin de semana que viene aquí en Cabra

2008-11-07T12:16:00.003+01:00

More fun stuff -- Emily is on her way from Canillas de Aceituno! That is the name of her town, by the way, and it only has 2500 people. When she told me how small it was, I asked her if it was some kind of tribal village where they live in teepees or something. I forgot that some of the people in my program are in SUCH small towns. Like I said in here once before, my high school had more people than that. Loco. But it should be a lot of fun, I'm totally excited.

Yesterday after school, I went to Baena with Rosana, one of the English teachers. She is great. We went out to get lunch, first. I should add that we got lunch at 4 p.m. which is completely normal here -- remember that Spaniards eat at weird times: breakfast is usually at 11 a.m. and it consists of a something light like toast with olive oil and an espresso or café con leche, then lunch is between 2 to 4 p.m. and that is the biggest meal, there is a snack somewhere in between, and then there is a light dinner which can be anytime between 8 p.m. (at the earliest) and midnight.
Anyway, woops on that tangent -- after we ate, Rosana and I shopped around town, walked through the park and saw the sights of Baena, we went to Carrefour, which is the equivalent of Target here in Spain, and I met her grandmother and her mom, briefly. It was fun, and I should also add that I spoke Spanish almost continuously with few lapses into English. I speak Spanish here every day, but never for hours at a time, so I definitely got a mental workout. It's normal for me to think "crap, what is the third person past tense of 'to bring'" and "what preposition should I use in this sentence" ? Also, if I don't know how to say a phrase, sometimes I'll just use the direct English to Spanish translation, and usually that doesn't work so well for me. Woops.

Other things coming up this weekend include hanging out with Carlos and Noelia, who are my bilingual coordinator and his girlfriend/one of the professors I work with, too, respectively. We'll be going out to the country to "tomar algo" (eat/get some drinks) and just hang out. Also, Raul, the Chief of Studies will be coming, too (not sure what his exact job description is, but that's his title at my school). I haven't asked Carlos if Emily can come with us yet, because he just told me about this plan to go out and get drinks in the country after I had invited Emily to visit me in Cabra, but I'm pretty sure it will be fine. We'll see!

One other thing I haven't mentioned in here, yet -- I have a private tutoring class planned for next Tuesday! Yay! I'm going to teach two children of one of the teachers at my school. They are 4 and 7 years old, so I am going to have to rack my brain for what to teach little kids who have virtually no knowledge of English. This will be completely new territory for me, but I'm still excited. Their names are Marta and Paco, by the way -- Marta is 7 and Paco is 4. I'm sure they'll be adorable. Carmen, their mother, told me that they're super excited to meet me. Yay.

Yay for fun things in Spain. Hasta luego.

O-BA-MA!!!!!

2008-11-05T11:45:00.004+01:00

Tangent from my usual musings about my life here in Spain....

OBAMA WON!!! I'm really happy, too. Also, I still can't believe that the USA decided to put that racial pish posh BS aside, for this. It's not like it's the end of racism in the United States, but it's definitely a huge leap towards more acceptance. I just hope that Obama can steer the USA back to the great country it is supposed to be, on the international playing field, and less of an economic flop of doom and a war monger that we can include among George W. Bush's accomplishments in the past 8 years. I can't believe that I'll always have to say that Bush was the president for the majority of my high school and ALL of my college years -- he is just such an embarrassment.

Last night, the girls in my apartment had a mini fiesta for the election. We played some games and had some bebidas (drinks), but the election results were finalized after we were long asleep -- at about 5 or 6 a.m.

It's funny to me, too, that all the profesores are asking me a) who I voted for and b) all my opinions and then they will also throw something in about un político negro (black politician) and how they can't believe he was elected -- but they are happy, because they overwhelmingly support Obama in Spain. When most Spaniards brought up the American presidential election, they would ask in the same breath if I would vote for Obama. Amusing...

Anyway....phew. I'm sure I'll bring up politics in this blog again at some point, but back to the rest of the junk I usually talk about in this blog.

I'm going on a trip to Edinburgh, Scotland, in a few weeks! :-D I'm really excited, too, because I've been to England, but never to anywhere else in the UK. I'd like to make it to Ireland at some point, since I'm part Irish, but who knows when that will happen. But yeah, I'm going with Carole and 2 of the people she knows in Málaga. Originally we wanted to go to Rome, but the flights were ridiculously cheap to Edinburgh, so we booked that instead. I'd love to go to Rome, but I've already been there. Scotland should be a lot of fun.

As for THIS weekend, I changed my plans -- I'm not going to Málaga anymore, but Emily F. is coming to Cabra. A couple of Michelle's friends from Seville, who I have seen twice already, will be coming to Cabra, too. Emily B. and Kim will also be here. I figured, if all these people will be here, maybe it would be better to ask if Emily F. just to come here. I love to travel, but I'm getting a little bit of travel fatigue, because I'm definitely a homebody and I think traveling takes a bit more energy, planning and €s!!! I want to save a bit of €s because it seems like I've been blowing through a lot of money lately, and it would be nice to have some finances left over by the time I leave Spain! Ay ay ay. So yeah, it should be just as fun to be here in Cabra, even though it's a dinky town and there's not as much to do here as there is in Málaga. I'm definitely excited to see Emily again, too, since I haven't seen her since orientation. The fun thing about being abroad in groups like this is that social life for everyone is like potpourri -- so many different types of people that you would never interact with if you were in your comfort zone/social bubble that most people rarely leave when living in their hometown.

Speaking of random social events -- this weekend, I'll probably be going out just to hang out with my bilingual coordinator and his girlfriend, who also works at the school here, so I see her every day I'm working. They're both really relaxed and fun. They have 2 dogs and when I mentioned I wanted to see them again and offered to walk them if they ever need someone, she said that maybe we could all go out this weekend. Carlos and Noelia (those are their names) already have my number, so they can contact me whenever. Should be fun. It's definitely a completely different experience to hang out with people from another culture, but in a way, I'm used to being a fish out of water after moving so many times. But this is a whole different thing, too. Exciting.

OK, gonna get some work done...unfortunately, my bilingual coordinator, Carlos, isn't here today. I would be in an hour long meeting right now and actually being productive, but today I can't. Usually Carlos heads a weekly meeting that I sit in on and receive assignments from the teachers I work with: Mónica, the music teacher; Beatriz, the art teacher; and Victor, the French teacher.
So yeah, right now I'm kind of aburrida (bored). I don't have much work to do, either... I really wish that they used the language assistants for 24 instead of 12 hours and we made twice as much money -- that would be so much better. But I guess the average teacher 30-something hours in a school a week, but they're not constantly in class, so...I don't know how many hours teachers work on average. I just wish I could work MORE and get paid MORE. That would be sweet. Oh well. I just know that if I were in the USA working at a newspaper, right now, I'd probably be working 2-3 times as many hours in order to make the same money, which is ridiculous.

On that note, I return to being bored. Hasta luego.