Sunshine Cravings and Insomnia Satisfaction

Like Me

2011-07-27T21:09:00.000-07:00

On top

Like cream on sugar sprinkled over honey

Like the breeze over desert heat and sand

On top

Like silk on skin on cotton

Like the hot sliver of water over the cold

On top

Like yes over no and maybe

Like a wrong over right over wrong again

On top

Like her hands over yours

Like your hands over hers

But between

Like me and you between air and earth

Like me never so beneath, but never on top

Between

Like yes, no, and maybe

Like me

Beneath

Like me beneath her above you

Like me under your eyes

Beneath

Like my memory hiding behind hers

Like me in the back of your mind.

Beneath

Like me.

Fear

2011-06-06T00:09:00.001-07:00

I am a firm believer in mistakes, but I am afraid that someday I will make one that I cannot come back from. That is a fear that I resent. I want to live without fear. Living without fear would be living free.

The Fall

2011-05-25T23:20:00.000-07:00

I let go.

I expected the fall to last a lifetime, but it ended quickly like a book you wish you could never finish. I had built it up in my mind to be something it turned out not to be, but you never know what you want until you have already made the leap. Midair seems to give us a clarity that the view from the top could only supply a hint of.

The stationary things around me blurred by, while right in front of me I could see my world as clear as a globe in my hands. My fingers traced the curves of the land, and my feet flew useless above me. The speeding air entered without breathing as my eyes were forced open. Lost tears rolled up my cheeks.

Flying through a sense of vertigo was directing me in a formless way. The end would be destiny if I hadn’t chosen the beginning, but with decision come both dead ends and sharp turns. I knew, but did not expect the outcome.

The fall gave me life. The fall left me laying alone in the end without a sign of return. The fall was everything.

2011-04-27T09:51:00.000-07:00

Well, I’m graduating on time. It certainly will not be the best grade of my life, but beggers can’t be choosers.

The meeting was preeeetty rough. He started the conversation by saying he didn’t want to have the conversation with me. That’s a sure fire sign that bad things are about to happen. My tear ducts started acting up while he told me I could either graduate with a C (ugly letter unless it’s refering to my C2 = fluency in Spanish rating in Europe), or I could spend the summer working on it and graduate officially in the fall. I chose graduating now, and he explained to me that as a “friend” he would have told me to do the same thing. He said the project did not reflect my four years at school, nor did it reflect who I am as a person. He said it was not a failure, and its biggest flaws were matters of not having enough time. I was warned before studying abroad in Spain that it would be this way, but I am stubborn. Oops.

I cried… more confidently than normal I suppose, but I cried nonetheless. It was embarrassing, but unavoidable. He said he understood and had been through similar situations in his life of academia. The moment that got me was when he looked at me in all seriousness and said, “you shouldn’t feel bad. This project is not a reflection of the work I know you can do. You have accomplished something here, and you should be proud”… and then he called me one of the international experts on Calle 13.

So, this giant project on identity and music has made me go mad, made me cry, and has made me realize that my own identity is a mystery to me. I don’t think those were my school’s intentions, but fuck it. I’M GRADUATING!

Petrified

2011-04-27T03:46:00.001-07:00

Today my life weighs on a touchy balance. On one side there is the bright, fluffy, good, while on the other side we have the dark, brooding, evil. Obviously, and naturally,based off of laws of gravity, balance, weight, blah blah sciencey terms blah, when something is added to a side, it slowly moves said side downward. The side that hits the ground is the side that wins!

There have already been a few plays made in this game. Mind you, it is 6am.

1. I live in a house where the girls don't physically know how to socialize outside of the ungodly hours of the night. 2. My roommate, who meanders in around 4:45am doesn't physically know how to enter a room without making every noise known to man. 3. There was no toilet paper because my housemates have too many friends who use it all at the ungodly hours of the night. 4. My witty friends flipped my microwave upside down, and I wasn't about to flip the beast just to make some cheap ass oatmeal. 5. I had to be at work at 5:45am... good thing I got a great wakeup call an hour beforehand.

These are minor tipping events that I try not to think of as signs as to what the rest of the day will be like. In fact, I pray they are not because today there are two actually important events that will drastically change the history of my life, and thus the weight of that damn balance. The first is the Real Madrid vs. Barcelona game (alright, admittedly, this might not DRASTICALLY change my life... but it is effing important). Barcelona crushed me last week by losing in overtime, and I was personally offended. How could my boys do that to me when I needed to believe so badly that I could overcome Madrid in some aspect of my life? Today they must redeem themselves, and thus put a big, beautiful, maroon and blue weight on the side of good.

The other, and actually life changing event is my senior thesis advisor meeting. I am PETRIFIED that he will tell me my work is simply not good enough for me to graduate on time. I will cry like a baby (sorry, Joyce, I don't think I know how to cry "confidently"), and beg for him to let me pass, even if ever so slightly. I even dreampt up begging speeches in my head last night. Of course, you never say quite the powerful things you mean to once you're in the situation... All I can do is hope harder than I ever have in my whole freaking life that someone takes pity on me.

My hopes are high, buy my gut is down somewhere near my ankles. We'll see how this goes. Vamo Barça!

Guilt

2011-04-22T10:26:00.000-07:00

I feel guilty. I really do feel guilty about everything no matter how hard I try not to. Let's take a look shall we?

I feel guilty about writing this post when I should be totally focused on my senior thesis revisions. I feel guilty about not caring about said thesis as much as I should. I feel guilty about my loss of enthusiasm for school. I feel guilty about studying abroad in Spain. I feel guilty about the way I spent my time in Spain. I feel guilty about not watching the news as much as I should. I feel guilty about not knowing about what happens in the world. I feel guilty about watching more movies than reading. I feel guilty reading for fun because I should be reading about more important things. I feel guilty about eating chips. I feel guilty about loving ice cream. I feel guilty about not eating veggies every day. I feel guilty drinking Coca-Cola when it's such a bad company. I feel guilty after drinking a bottle of beer. I feel guilty about eating what I do when there are people who can't eat at all. I feel guilty about buying things because I already have enough. I feel guilty for not helping people as much as I should. I feel guilty for taking things for granted. I feel guilty for leaving my family. I feel guilty for getting angry. I feel guilty for losing myself in my emotions. I feel guilty for being lazy. I feel guilty for accepting so much help. I feel guilty for not challenging myself enough. I feel guilty for letting people down. I feel guilty for trashing the environment. I feel guilty for using so much electricity and water. I feel guilty for buying music. I feel guilty for wanting to escape. I feel guilty for not having a better job. I feel guilty for not working out when I work at a gym. I feel guilty when I don't understand something in Spanish because I'm supposed to be fluent. I feel guilty when I say I'm fluent.

This list doesn't really stop. No wonder I have found three white hairs in my head.

Friend Failure

2011-04-21T18:11:00.000-07:00

Lately I cannot help but feel self-centered. Have I always been this way?

I want to be a good friend, but when I spread myself across so many friendship lines, it becomes impossible to choose who I will spend my time with. Who do I disappoint this evening? Whose party do I miss today? Sometimes I want to do so many things so badly that I say yes without thinking about the fact that I will have to eventually say no to some of them. I lose myself in good intentions, and then get burnt for it later. I feel like I'm constantly losing friends, but I don't know how to hold on to them all at once.

And then there's the travel. I have never felt so passionate about anything the way I have about travel, but it causes so many complications. My family and friends see it as abandonment, and I am struck by the guilt of leaving people behind. I disappear into new worlds, but I never forget the one I came from. I am not patriotic, but that is not a reflection on the people that I care about in the states. I want to live in new places, but that does not mean I want to live without the people I love. Am I being too greedy? Am I letting go of the best relationships I have? I don't mean to, but is leaving going to make my friends regret my frienship?

Once these feelings overwhelm me I sink into a rut of apathy. I ignore responsabilities and all activities in general, hoping to render my mind blank. I lose my passion for anything and fall into a funk that I struggle to reemerge from. I feel lost in the big world that is only so big because I made it that way. I have corrupted my own existence. I have gotten myself lost by not taking the directions given to me. This is the result of my greed.

So, what do I do? How can I fix what I have so quickly destroyed? How can I ever make up for my absences? Will staying be the only way to show I care? We only have one shot at life, and I feel like I'm ruining it.

Think

2011-04-19T15:32:00.000-07:00

You'd think that if I ended a conversation by saying, "well, since we have established that we are both alive, I'm going to go. Bye," you would get the hint. I was clearly not impressed with our conversation and your blatant lack of interest in it. Why the fuck did you say hello to me in the first place? You even added an extra a to your hola as if you wanted to emphasize how much you care. That a is a lie.

Don't you remember the last words I said to you? Don't you remember you broke my heart? Are you trying to win a happiness competition? Be happy all you want because we both know that I loved harder, I gave more, I was your crutch, I saved you. You forgot me with one kiss, and with each new one I receive, I remember more. Our differences are clearer than I knew they could be, and your eyes are darker than I ever saw them before. Each time I say goodbye I mean it, but you linger with an ambiguous "beso". Read my words for once instead of skimming over them. Ignore second language stumbling, and listen to the meaning. You know I don't want you in my life right now, but you don't want to be forgotten as you have forgotten me.

Tough luck. If you feel nothing, then accept my adiós. It is real and needs no emphasis. Long have I given up on the passion I devoted to you alone, and eventually you will see the life that you lost. You will become a mere memory, dark and weak, while I will become one more regret for you. I will loom amongst your memories as what could have been.

Thank you. Without your abandonment I would have meandered in the wrong direction for too long. I would have dismissed one dream to live in another; one that has turned into a nightmare. I wish you well, but I can still hope that your thoughts are tainted by me. I hope in every new girl you "love" you hear my laughter, see the glimmer in my excited eyes, and feel my fingerprints in every hand that you hold. I hope you taste the tears you made me cry in every glass of water you greedily swallow after every sin you commit. Your kisses have chapped my lips. Your touch has washed away. Your words have lost their meaning. Your promises are myths that I read once in a novel. Your love was no love at all. No true love can be described in mere words; yours was defined by the most simplistic combination of letters. My heart is light because I have finally forgotten your smile, and deep down I know I will never see it again.

You'd think that you'd let me go when I have finally let go of you.

Perhaps someday we can be friends, but for now I cannot handle your hellos. Let me forget you. Be fair to me.

Sun

2011-04-08T11:48:00.000-07:00

The sun is out. Well, acutally, it is raining, and the sun is kind of hidden behind the clouds. However, the sun in my heart is shining like a freaking firecracker. =) I am loaded with work to finish my senior thesis. I just got horrendous grades back from Spain. My mom constantly reminds me that I need to be financially realistic with going back to Chile.... essentially there are a lot of things to be moody about. And yet, there is a smile on my face. I can't really explain it, but something about today is brighter than the days before it. Happiness feels like it's in my hands, and not in someone elses. Today I own the sun.

Insomnia at its finest

2011-04-05T03:56:00.000-07:00

Well, It is almost 7am and I haven't slept yet. Do I have a good reason? Absolutely not. I went for a 5am barefoot walk in a tornado warning, and then I attempted to stop crying over an ex who attempted and succeeded in getting over me a mere month after I left abroad to come back to the states. His new, also American girlfriend, fits a surprisingly familiar description... brown hair and eyes, unabated laughter, curvy... creativity may not be his strong point. I stopped crying because a bug I apparently brought back into the house after my walk bit me. I got mad at myself for crying, and now the ex is succeeding in yet again making me somehow feel like the bad guy for everything. I understand nothing about life at the moment, but I feel like it can only get better from here. If it doesn't, then I am dedicating my life to helping the poor in a third world country so that I will stop taking my easy life for granted.

Words

2011-04-02T01:43:00.000-07:00

Have you ever read words that made your heart stop and your breath disappear? They don't even have to be eloquent or perfectly written, but with a few combinations of this and that, a world can change.

I have always had so much respect for words. It's true that art, music, and visual expression can move me and change me in ways I didn't expect... but in words I can feel a reaction in every part of my body. The complete suffering that you feel from the very pit of your stomach, your throat, your aching eyes... the air that leaves you quickly and against your will. The pain that cannot be described by words can be caused by them.

And then, from time to time there is a wonderful one, two... any number of words that can restore your stability. They can remind you of the things you love most in your life, however simple or complicated. Those are the words that make me feel sweet. They make me feel full, solid, alive. Those are the words that make all of the inbetweens fade away.

I believe in those words.

Here are some of my own:

I refuse to cry anymore. I refuse to feel like I'm not worth it. I refuse to cave into these feelings of regret. I will not let you define me. I will not let you make me forget the person I was. I am taking my life back. I have already wasted too much time holding on to thin air. This is MY story. You can read it later if you like.

Only the lonely

2011-03-28T14:17:00.000-07:00

I think I've discovered the source of my off and on sadness this semester.

This has hands down been the lonliest semester I can remember having. Let's see...

Well, there's the obvious breakup situation that took happy, dating Kait, and threw her out the window... oh yeah, and he got over me pretty damn fast.

My friends that I made abroad pretty much all go to school together, so they get to have a blast juntos, while I get to hang out sola on the east coast. Bummer.

Then there's the big fact that my "group of friends" graduated last year. They are all in different places, leaving me still on campus with a bunch of people who have their own group of friends.

Those who stayed in St. Mary's are kind of doing their own thing, which I completely understand. New-ish boyfriend situations for them, and busy, real people lives keep them pretty occupied.

My two besties from home are also pretty deep into their own lives. Again, understandable. One got a fabulous girlfriend while I was abroad, and the other is getting a massive promotion. That doesn't leave a lot of time for little old me way down at the bottom of Maryland. Womp womp.

So, I'm kind of stuck on my own. I blame myself for not staying put, but that doesn't stop it from hurting. Everyone wants to feel like they are unforgettable, and it becomes painfully easy to feel like you're not when everyone has something else going on in their lives. I realize this is a thing I'm going to have to get used to if I want to travel, but I've never felt this way while abroad... when I should feel at my loneliest. Hmm, life goes on...

Well, uh...

2011-03-18T14:48:00.000-07:00

You know when you have an amazing story to tell, but there is SO much background information that you lose the audience before you even really get to the story? I'm the epitomy of that awkward moment when you realize you've gone overboard, that combination of "uh, well..." and a goofy smile paired with eyes darting from side to side .... it's a little uncomfortable, very perplexing, and retrospectively hilarious.

Original Movement (I don't know how to translate Audiográfico)

2011-03-16T15:45:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not entirely sure what the mouse ears are for... I like it

I realize that this may not be the most exciting of finds for non Spanish speakers, but today wandering the web (in search of inspiration for my thesis involving identity... not as exciting as it sounds being as that it is a thesis) I found something. I say something because I'm not enitrely sure what to call it. It is a mix between comedy and blog. This group of Chilean dudes created a comedy blog (¿?) that is actually pretty funny. One of their podcasts was about foreign nations, in particular the connection between Chile and other neighboring countries... something I learned a lot about while I was there. Not to mention they talk a bit about one of the guys trips to NYC, which left him with an interesting perspective on the American population... AKA there are no Americans in NYC, we are chubby, and we generally like foreigners. Another one of the guys said something about LA being in New York, but the confusion was eventually cleared up with the help of someone who realized LA is on the other side of the nation. Interesting. I must remind you that they are comedians. =)

Anywhoha, if you do like to dabble in Spanish, check it out. It's pretty silly, and hey, you get to hear the glory that is a Chilean accent. Mhmm mmmmm, mmmmmmm do I love me some Chilean accents. There are some pretty funny videos on there too. I particularly enjoy the "Dance Mary" they've got going.

Lovely Words

2011-03-16T11:40:00.001-07:00

This goes out to no one in particular, but damn do I love Pablo Neruda. Yet another reason to return to Chile... a house waiting for me. =)

"so I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Till then my windows ache"

How wonderful is that!? Mmm, I'm going to have to get me a version of Neruda. Maybe one that gets married less often than the man himself.

Finally a goodbye that I can accept

2011-03-13T12:20:00.000-07:00

Lost love can either be tragic or infuriating. In my case it's definitely infuriating. Really, I'm sure there are other things that it can be, but these are the two that get me. Tragically infuriating, to be quite specific.

Have you ever seen someone post a facebook status that is very blatantly geared toward a specific person? Have you ever been that person it is geared towards? Was it nasty? Yeah... it was for me.

So, the other day I had a conversation with the one and only Spaniard. I explained my feelings, how our friendship was actually a pretty lame excuse for a friendship, and how his once pretty words seemed like lies now that broken promises were starting to take form. I exploded really. It's hard not to just let it allll out after so much bottling it in. So, BOOM! I went.

A mere sixish hours after our conversation, it was posted in full force on his facebook status that "a feminine you" was loosing out on the one person who would love her most in life. She let go what was within her reach. Someday she would realize what she had...

Hmm, I wonder who that could be directed to immediately after an argument? Hmm, interesting. That poor victim!

Being the won't-take-shit-from-no-damn-one girl that my dad raised me to be, I confronted him. I knew as I was doing so that it would probably not be the best idea, but I couldn't stop myself. There was an unnamed force pulling me into battle. Maybe it was the dubstep blasting in my room. Who will ever know?

I told him that I was going to apologize for being so harsh the day before, which I was a little, even if I was telling the truth... but that if he ever accused me of not valuing what I had (the basic gist of his status), I would find a way to do something terrifying enough to shut him up... I just couldn't think of that thing at the time. He said, it wasn't geared towards me, and I said, just as he had as a little warm up to his status that had started my explosion, "this is how things are". And I logged off of Skype.

A few hours later he responded to people's "aww, poor you" comments on his status by explaining that it will take him awhile to recooperate, and that it had been a rough relationship. Good lord almighty (in whom I don't honestly believe), are you a dramatic little boy, or what!? YOU were the one who wanted to end things with ME, remember? I thought guys only forgot those massive details in stupid teennager movies... Excuse me for telling you the truth, even if it hurt your pride. Part of being as mature as you say you are is learning to accept that you have been wrong... that you have wronged someone else. I admit that I'm not perfect, why can't you?

So, upon seeing him post about his poor state in front of all of his friends that I met (and probably now think I'm a raging bitch), I decided this would be the last blogedy blog about the one and only Spaniard. I'm still shocked by how someone who claimed to love me so much could turn things around so quickly. His romantic sacrifices and tragic losses that have so much become a part of who he is will slowly turn back into things I have only read of in books. I refuse to let a distorted ending destroy something that was once beautiful. The Spaniard will have to remain a mere memory, and with that I close the door on a part of my past. It is time to look forward to the amazing things ahead, and remember that in the risk that is love (hell yes, it is always a risk) the good that comes of it is worth taking chances.

Wise words from Gabriel

2011-03-12T18:01:00.000-08:00

I have a sickening love for Gabriel García Márquez' words. Here are a few:

"If I knew that today would be the last time I’d see you, I would hug you tight and pray the Lord be the keeper of your soul. If I knew that this would be the last time you pass through this door, I’d embrace you, kiss you, and call you back for one more. If I knew that this would be the last time I would hear your voice, I’d take hold of each word to be able to hear it over and over again. If I knew this is the last time I see you, I’d tell you I love you, and would not just assume foolishly you know it already."

"Nobody deserves your tears, but whoever deserves them will not make you cry."

"Perhaps this is what the stories meant when they called somebody heartsick. Your heart and your stomach and your whole insides felt empty and hollow and aching."

"There is always something left to love."

"To him she seemed so beautiful, so seductive, so different from ordinary people, that he could not understand why no one was as disturbed as he by the clicking of her heels on the paving stones, why no one else's heart was wild with the breeze stirred by the sighs of her veils, why everyone did not go mad with the movements of her braid, the flight of her hands, the gold of her laughter. He had not missed a single one of her gestures, not one of the indications of her character, but he did not dare approach her for fear of destroying the spell."

"The world must be all fucked up," he said then, "when men travel first class and literature goes as freight."

"But when a woman decides to sleep with a man, there is no wall she will not scale, no fortress she will not destroy, no moral consideration she will not ignore at its very root: there is no God worth worrying about."

"Then he made one last effort to search in his heart for the place where his affection had rotted away, and he could not find it."

"nothing in this world was more difficult than love."

I guess this love reignited when I read, Memories of my Melancholy Whores, much to the confusion of everyone in the gym who read the title... He is a beautiful writer. =)

March is for Parades

2011-03-09T10:40:00.000-08:00

It has been an eventful beginning to March.

I decided to return to Chile instead of taking the offer in Spain. I need to give Chile a second chance, and well, I need some distance. Also, I am looking forward to the challenge of having NO IDEA what to do with my life.

I went to Annapolis for my birthday, got yelled at by the police, and lost my wallet inside the jacket that I also inconveniently lost.

I was informed that I need to do SERIOUS work on my senior thesis if I want to finish it on time, which means no spring break for me. Oh, the joy of writing nearly eight pages a day during vacation. Fun times.

I turned 22.

I was very nicely praised for my photography work. (Brushing dirt off of shoulders)

I drank enough caffeine to kill a small animal.

Future Frenzy

2011-03-02T20:24:00.000-08:00

Allow me to explain my current predicament. I Applied to teach English abroad in Spain… mostly on a whim. I love Spain, and I do want to teach English after I graduate. The kicker; I miss Chile. Do I ever miss Chile. I could teach English there in February assuming I got a job, but this would be all by my lonesome. The English in Spain program is pretty much a perfect set up for anyone who isn’t actually sure how to enter the real world; aka me. I have ten days to make this decision.

More facts that make this difficult:

1. I would not know where in Spain I’d be until after paying a $1000 deposit.

2. I have no guaranteed job in Chile

3. I have no idea as to what the visa requirements are for working in Chile if I don’t even have a job yet.

4. Everyone seems to want me to go to Spain aside from my Chilean friends.

5. I want to go to both places.

6. I am poor.

7. I can’t make up my mind.

8. Shit.

Not to mention, Manuel and I are kind of on rocky speaking terms... not that that should have anything to do with my ultimate decision, but it is something that I think about. It's kind of hard to not think about it at all. Also something that I guess is along the same lines is my love for my Chilean friends. I mean, I reaaaally love these people. A lot. Should I be trying to put myself out there and make new ones? Man is life ever difficult!

By the 10th I need to have decided. Where will I be in September?

Amor brutal

2011-02-28T03:40:00.000-08:00

Una vez te di todo lo que tenía. Mi corazón, mi tiempo, mi atención, mi inocencia... Me dijiste que lo cuidarías y me amarías por siempre. Fue como el sueño de una niña que todavía no ha conocido el amor. Tú eras perfecto. Tú me prometiste el mundo. Te escuché. Te creí. Te di todo.

Pero al perderme en tu pasión, todo cambió. El corazón de que prometiste cuidar sufrió el dolor de negligencia y de abandono. El tiempo desapareció entre las memorias que van deteniendo con el silencio. Negaste mi atención sin dificultad. Me robaste de la inocencia sin devolverla ni recompensarla. El sueño se convirtió en una pesadilla.

Me acuerdo del momento en que me dijiste que me querías. Entre miedo y hesitación me susurraste un simple, “te amo”. Pensabas que temería yo las dos palabritas, pero las acepté. Las comí como una cena envenenada por un amante celoso; sin saber que me matarían luego con la salida de la luna.

Ay, que luna más linda incluso debajo de los efectos de tu droga. Sonríe en mi dirección con una sinceridad que nunca he encontrado en un hombre. Me devora con su luz, pero es una muerte dedicada a la dulce noche que me da siempre todo su cuerpo. Es un amor simple. Es un amor natural. Es un amor que puede hasta hacernos olvidar del calor del sol.

Cierro mis ojos y me acuerdo de tu sonrisa. A compararla con la que tiene la luna, veo que mi pérdida ha sido insignificante. El amor que tenía para ti era grande, fuerte e intencional, pero sigo existiendo sin ti. Sin el amor de la luna no podría continuar. El amor de la luna me sostiene. El amor de la luna siempre me acompaña. Sale cuando salgo yo, y me acaricia mientras me siento solita. Me matará, pero prefiero morir amada que envenenada.

New Orleans

2011-02-25T12:50:00.000-08:00

I am going to New Orleans for Spring Break!!! Well, at least for a part of it. Jay and I wanted to do something interesting, so off to the south we go. Mind you, the furthest south I've ever been is Kentucky... I have always wanted to go to New Orleans, and I might as well do so before I wander off to work in a different country. I have a few goals while I'm down there. Laugh if you must, but some things you just have to do:

1. Go into a sketchy ally voodoo shop!

2. Ride a mechanical bull!

3. Eat some awesome cajun food.

4. See some live jazz in the best place to do so!!

5. Meet some real southerners

Really, the list isn't that long, but I will come up with some others I'm sure. Any tips?

Life of Pi

2011-02-23T21:29:00.001-08:00

Life of Pi is one of my favorite books for so many reasons. I first read it at a time in which I was struggling with relgious identity, what with being raised as nothing even remotely spiritual... I tried turning to many gods, histories, leaders, or teachers, but in the end I found that, for me at least, life does not need an explanation. Life of Pi is about a boy who believes in many things, and falls into a story so beyond belief that reality and insanity blend into one. Not to mention it mostly takes place in the middle of the ocean with some zoo animals. How can you beat that?

Here is a quote from the book that I absolutely love because it reminds me to put my life into perspective. Check it out:

"For the first time I noticed – as I would notice repeatedly during my ordeal, between one throe of agony and the next – that my suffering was taking place in a grand setting. I saw my suffering for what it was, finite and insignificant, and I was still. My suffering did not fit anywhere, I realized. And I could accept this. It was all right."

No matter what we believe in, life still continues on in some form or another. Pain is insignificant.

Easy, easier, easiest

2011-02-21T04:33:00.001-08:00

It is easy to convince yourself that you will never meet someone who made you feel the same way as that one person... it's easier to convince yourself that it's your fault... It's easiest to believe that you will never get over the heartbreak.

It's hard to convince yourself that it's time to move on... it's harder to actually attempt it... and it's hardest to accomplish it.

But, being alone is not the hardest thing in the world. Change will not destroy who you are. Change is opportunity. It might not be easy, but I'm pretty sure that people often say that life isn't easy. It would definitely not be as fun if it were a piece of cake.

Getting to a state of acceptance can be challenging, but in the end, we have nothing to do but accept that life takes some crazy sharp turns. It would be lame if it was a long one way street.

So, enough with the metaphors and pouting. So soak up the sun. It's the easiest way to feel alright.

Amore

2011-02-14T06:35:00.000-08:00

Can we take a second to talk about love? It is Valentines Day afterall.

Love is one of the most debated topics around, and it's a subject that people will never lose interest in, whether it's your own love, your friend's love, or that of celebrities. Hell, people go ga-ga over animal love! Why else would there be so many cutsie youtube videos with photos of puppies kissing? Point being, everyone wants love, thinks about love, or is in love... even if you hate love, you still have some feelings toward the matter. Love is kind of a big deal.

But, what exactly is love? That question has been asked since we collectively decided that love exists. We feel it, but there are so many different definitions for the thing, that no one can be completely sure as to what it is.

Love is one of many words that suffers what I like to call, an identity crisis of the vocable nature. You see, in linguistics we talk about the difference between the word itself, what we think of and imagine when we see or hear said word, and then the physical object itself. There are fancier words for these things, but it's easier to just say it like it is. Love is a word that we all recognize (for now we're only talking about the English speaking world), and we feel we have a general understading based off of what we hear about it. Thus, when we see or hear the word love, we think of similar, society built ideas. Hearts, flowers, long walks on the beach; many of these things come to mind.

Now, what if one day we all woke up and forgot the word love? The feelings were still there, but the word was gone forever. How would we express these feelings? Would we recreate love? The way we think about it is completely connected and tied to the word itself. Not to mention, the object itself is often confused with the idea of love... the complications of losing the word are endless.

So, here's the identity crisis. The word is nothing without the ideas and feelings that are attached to it, and vice versa. The feelings, as wide a range as they have, all boil down to love. I love my family, my friends, and on occassion there is the special romantic love in my life. They are all very different versions of what I now know as nothing other than love. It's a bit complicated, right?

Okay, now let's remember that people who don't speak English exist too. Spanish has multiple ways of saying, "I love you". If you translated "te quiero" and "te amo", you would get I love you both times. In most countries they have multiple ways of saying, dating, going out, seeing each other... amore even sounds more romantic than love, and in many ways Italians express love differently. Like most words with an identity crisis of the volable nature, love depends a lot of the culture that surrounds it. Damn... this shit is complicated!

In the end, hurting my brain by thinking this way leaves me remembering that love is all sorts of complicated. It doesn't tend to be easy, and it straight up makes people crazy... I can attest to that. Yet somehow, we love love. Saying "I love you" feels good (when you mean it at least), and hearing back feels even better. We're addicted to it because it can be wonderful, but like all addictions, it can hurt us way more than we ever expected it to. I personally feel that heartbreak is too dainty of a word for post-love.

Anyway, have a great Valentines Day whether you're in love or not. I enjoy making people smile with a silly card or a big thing of chocolate. I don't care if I'm giving Hallmark more money... I'd rather give it to Hallmark than Marlboro.

I can't balance standing still

2011-02-09T17:46:00.000-08:00

In my yoga class (that I am getting zero credits for because I would have to give up $182 to pay for said class) my professor talks about the balance between good and bad. She talks about a whole lot of other mumbo jumbo peace, love, and happiness business, but balance seems to be the most important, especially in yoga. I have trouble balancing on two feet sometimes.

Thus, to take from the lessons I am learning, I think, and I don't feel that I am being too profound here, that there tends to be this sort of balance every day. Granted, yes there are days that make me want to punch my yoga professor in the face because they seem to be genuinely all bad (cue flashback scene to me fighting with Manuel a week ago)... however, it is so rare for me to find nothing good about a day.

Take today for example. I woke up at five in the morning with a headache and no energy. I went to work, did some homework at work, got an email from 123egreetings.com saying that the person I sent my cards to :: cough cough, Manuel:: still hasn't read them, and then I went to yoga class at which I could not take the meditation excerise serious enough to stop laughing at any point in time. Sounds like a great morning right? Oh, and I forgot to mention finding out about that $182, as well as hearing from my professor that my senior thesis intro blows, as weeeellll as not hearing from Manuel all day again... that one is turning into a new pattern. Life is just dandy, ain't it?

Take these things into account. Soak them up. Mmmm, sucky, yes? Yes. Incredibly so. Yet, by this point I had only reached 1pm. I sat eating a snack and drank some mate when Carmen (a great alum) texted me asking if she could stop by. She came over and we caught up on life before heading over to Ultimate pickup. Despite being quite out of ultimate practice, I really enjoyed myself. Immediately afterwards I headed over to my Spanish Cinema class at which I spoke, let's say, A LOT. My class is awkward, and I can't handle the silence. So, I fill it. By myself. At least I'll get all of the participation credits.

I ended the day with a delicious chili relleno that I made myself, followed by hanging out with a few of the frisbee kids. The second half of my day turned out to be lovely. Sure, I still have some things to work out that occurred in the first half, but at least I wasn't pouty all day like I have been on and off recently. Sure, Manuel doesn't seem to realize I exist anymore, but it might just be his exam schedule... life goes on! Holy crap! I figured it out! Life goes on.

So, despite a very white woman cheesily explaining the ways of the east to me and a bunch of other white kids, I see what she's getting at.

Did I mention, I trimmed my bangs by myself!? That's a big step for me.

Snap, Crackle, POP

2011-02-04T11:56:00.000-08:00

I have noticed a bizarre trend in new pop songs that are coming out lately. What might that theme be?

SEX.

And lots of it. I'm not talking the subtle, sneaky kind of references to the act. Oh no. I am talking full frontal, "I'm going to do you", sex talk. Not that there isn't a place and time for everything, but let's look at some examples of some pretty blatant musical references to the dirty deed, shall we?

1. Rihanna's "S&M". This one is particularly troubling to me considering Rihanna's relationship past. Is it not kind of sending mixed signals to the girls of the world to be beat by your boyfriend, and then express your passion for a little sadomasochism? Sadomasochism according to the American Heritage Dictionary means: "The combination of sadism and masochism, in particular the deriving of pleasure, especially sexual gratification, from inflicting or submitting to physical or emotional abuse". Curious Rihanna, very curious.

2. Enrique Iglesia's "Tonight (I'm Loving You)", or the more romantic version which is, "Tonight (I'm Fucking You)". Nice Enrique. I know ever since you got rid of your cheek mole you've found yourself to be sexier, but really? I mean, look at these deep and profound lyrics:

I know you want me
I made it obvious that I want you too
So put it on me
Let’s remove the space between me and you
Now rock your body (oooh)

Ew. (oooh) that's not even creative.

3. Katy Perry's "Peacock". It must have been painfully difficult for her to come up with the similarities between the word peacock and the actual thing to which she is refering... "Come on baby, let me see what you hiding underneath". Whatever could she be talking about? Personally, I hope it was really not as colorful as she describes it to be.

4. Bruno Mars' "Our First Time". At least this one actually touches on the idea of love being involved."I got you on my mind," haven't we heard that one before? "Don't you worry about a thing babe, just go with it". Convincing.

I'm not going to lie, I would feel really awkward if someone started to sing this to me... Still, I give him credit for not being an ass.

5. The Lonely Island's "I Just Had Sex". Fortunately, at least this one is a joke; getting striaght to the point. Thank you comedians, I love you.

So, I guess everyone really does think about one thing. Too bad no one nowadays can make it has sexy as Led Zeppelin's "When the Levee Breaks". Now that is a good song... even when no alcohol is involved.

Soulless Insomnia

2011-02-01T20:59:00.000-08:00

Oooh, how insomnia kicks in like an addiction when you are trying most desperately to lose it. It pricks at my brain while the dark shields my eyes from the attack. My body aches of exhaustion as my thoughts continue to taunt the tension in my neck. My determination loses its will against the seemigly unstoppable pain of wakefulness. The earlier I need to be awake, the longer my body resists the sweetness of sleep. I enter a sick cycle of hopelessness followed by fury. An irrational anger takes over my already strained soma.

"I HATE this," I think to myself, thus egging on the insomnia... as if it were a bully who received satisfaction out of watching me squirm.

Suddenly -and this part always surprises me despite its recurrence- I accept it. My mind does not bruise and does not break. My thoughts are powerful enough to wreck the body that I should take better care of. If my mind really sees the need to keep me awake, then it must know what it's doing... even if it renders my limbs and eyes useless in a few hours. I accept it.

As if my mind had a mind of its own, upon my acceptance I acheive that which I have struggled so greatly for. Sleep hits me, and in the morning I feel a bizarre and inconvenient appreciation for the insomnia that keeps me coming back for more. What a destructive natural drug.

Ending the Emo

2011-02-01T17:42:00.000-08:00

Shh, guys always fall for crazy girls... haha, it's true

I found this on an online Emo Forum.... dear lord

There has been an emo trend in my day to day life as of late. I acknowledge this. It's hard to want to be in so many places at once, feel so many things at once, and get so many things done at ONCE. I've taken my issues out on others and have run away from the familiar in an attempt to... I don't know what. If a psychologist were to analyze me they would surely find some deeply rooted fear of committment or who knows... attention neediness... something awful that we all fear to have ourselves, but naturally cannot avoid.

I apologize. Being around me (or being far away from me) can be tricky at times, but I am rational enough to know that being around anyone can be at least somewhat difficult. What I am really apologizing for is for at any point in time making you personally feel unloved, uncared for, or rejected by me in any way. I have never meant to hurt the ones I love, but I know it happens regardless. I know because I am always trying to be somewhere else it seems like I don't care, but that's not true. I just know that those people that I love will ALWAYS be the people that I love. I will always love them, and I will always come back to them. I leave, but I always come back. Don't forget the power of return.

I remember. I remember the times when I was happiest here, there, and even in my dreams. My memories, to put it in a ladylike manner, kick ass, and sometimes that makes me lose sight of the moment. BUT I remember, and I am giving in to the now again. I am taking every sadness and throwing it aside because there is true beauty in every second I live. I remember that I am alive. That's a pretty damn big deal.

I am beginning to move on, and it feels fabulous. Today I took a shower while no one was in the house, and I blasted my music along with the hot water. I soaked up the warmth with a smile because I knew even something as simple as water and music can make so many situations better. Call me a crazy person, but who's not a little crazy?

Here are some songs to help you out if you ever find yourself down in the dumps like I have been... Blast them. Loudly. And then, dance around the house.

Bebe sings about a woman who decides to take happiness for herself in "Ella". Shakira sings about the sun coming out when you least expect it to in "Sale el Sol". Calle 13 tells you not to play nice for once in "Vamo' a Portarnos Mal". I like English as well, so I won't forget about that. Apparently this Nicki Minaj girl is making some motion in the musical ocean with her song, "Check it Out" featuring will.i.am (whom I totally love). It is certainly less sexual than Rihanna's new insane/Lady Gaga wannabee song, "S&M"... sorry if you love it. Oops. The very important thing is to steer clear of songs like Bruno Mars' "Long Distance" or adorable Sam Tsui's "Don't Want an Ending". They are like emotional firestarters. Stick to upbeat tempos with lyrics that make you want to shout them ou

t. Shout. It feels good. The best is driving around -but only if we're emotionally stable enough to do so- with the windows down as you sing along as crazily as possible. Who cares?

Done

2011-01-03T17:35:00.000-08:00

It's official. At 2:30am in Spain I have truly decided that I can live no life aside from the one of adventure that I have chosen. This is not to say that I know exactly where I am going or what I will do, but it is to say that I have fallen in love with a life of moving always in different directions. I cannot leave behind the beautiful things that I have seen or the incredible people I have met. I cannot choose a life of normalcy. I will never be happy in an office. I will never survive a life of page one to page two to page three. I need unexpected, unknown and unseen. I am going to live. I am going to live until there is no life left in me, and that is what I will tell everyone who asks me what my plans are post graduation. I plan on living. Please, if you come up with something more amazing, let me know about it.

Life Options x10000

2011-01-02T14:33:00.000-08:00

2010 was yet again a year full of firsts. I remember bringing in the New Year in New Jersey with two of my best friends, and still feeling the overwhelming need to cry. 2009 had been so fabulous, that I couldn't imagine anything replacing the uncontrollable happiness I had felt that whole year. I found happiness again however, and in full force. A whole new group of experiences appeared out of nowhere, and I can only imagine that 2011 has good things in store for me as well.

2010 -

- Turning 21 and all of the good things that come along with that. ;-)

- Playing soccer again for the first time in years!

- First major fail of a spring break that still turned out to be a blast. Thanks Jared!

- Making friends with Fabrizio and Sergio, two rad Chilean comedians who came to explore the states! What fun we had in NYC and DC!

- First time seeing a TV show filmed! Late Night with Jimmy Falon!

- Seeing my brother Nate get married to a wonderful girl, and of course being a part of the wedding.

- First return to Murcia since 2007.

- First time in Madrid, Salamanca, Segovia, France and Sevilla

- First time seeing live Spanish TV! El Hormiguero!

- First time eating brains, shark, and strange veggie stews.

- First time going to an invite only club party AND dressing up for the night!

- First time falling in love

- First time meeting the boyfriend's family xD

- First Christmas away from home.

- First heartbreak.

- First New Year in Spain... Eating the twelve grapes and everything.

2011 has lots of opportunities-

- Puerto Rico for Spring Break?

- A visit from Manuel?

- Work a BOAT LOAD

- Write the longest paper of my life.

- Graduate! PLEASE, haha.

- Take a teaching English class online (or perhaps take the class in Perú?)

- Go back to Spain?

- Go back to Chile

- Go to Germany to see Simon once and for all... which would hopefully go along with going back to Spain

- Travel South America

- Go to Tanzania and volunteer with aunt Pia

- Get a summer job translating or volunteering?

- Get married?

- Hahaha, NO WAY, that last one was a joke. ;-) Just seeing if you were paying attention.

Goodness knows what I'm going to do with my life. Pff, I say, pfffffff.

Bicentenario

2010-09-18T11:00:00.000-07:00

Me gusta el vino, porque el vino es bueno.

Today is the Chilean Independence Day! (Well, the day that Chileans celebrate as their independence day at least) I remember a year ago celebrating the Fiestas Patrias and every moment feeling an indescribable and overwhelming connection to the people and their country. A country that months before arriving I had known nothing about, felt like my own with every asado, cueca, and kite flying in the sky. I will never forget how amazing it was to feel included in the festivities and their importance to the people. Cueca sounding from homes in the countryside, people dancing after a few glasses of wine, the scent of fresh meat on the grill with pevere sitting nearby, chanting Viva Chile!, gathering with family and friends from the time the sun comes up, to when it comes up again. Soy Chilena de corazón.

It’s amazing how the greatest things come when you least expect them to. I found in Chile a new home when I had only expected to find a new experience. In Chile I found family, friends, and loving strangers. Needless to say, and those of you who know me well enough already know this, I love Chile.

Anyway, I couldn’t go the day without giving a little shout out to el dueño de mi corazón. C H I, CHI! L E, LE! CHI CHI CHI! LE LE LE! VIVA CHILE! Te quiero, Chile Lindo.

Also, I do kind of see the irony of me being in Spain and celebrating las Fiestas Patrias. =) I have identity issues.

Stand Still

2010-09-15T12:09:00.000-07:00

I feel like telling a story.

“Walk with me to the end of the road?”

“Okay, but if I show up late to choose my classes for the semester, you are in deep shit, lady,” he responded to me as he checked his watch. He is the only right-handed person I know that wears a cheap runner’s watch –or any watch for that matter- on his right wrist. He wears it that way to minimize the time it takes to check it. He’s never told me this, but I know it’s a fact. I don’t wear a watch; this is one of our main character differences. I'd like to think his is the flaw.

“You’ll make it on time, I promise. I would not have even asked otherwise,” I let him know with a roll of my eyes. He didn’t see the eye acrobatics, but I’m sure he knew I had done it. According to him, I’m extremely predictable. He ignored it regardless.

He jumped right back into the conversation, assured by the little plastic arms. “So, like I was saying, yesterday I watched the game with this girl who knew way more than I did about soccer. Completely threw me off, but it was a great time. It would be like if you took a guy to go…..” he stopped walking and tried to think of something I would take a guy to do that he wouldn’t know anything about, “crap. I don’t know. Something unexpected?”.

I giggled at his lack of creativity, “I know what you are trying to say, don’t worry. If I took a guy to my home town, for example?”.

“Good point. Last summer in Monteverde was a little overwhelming. No one ever told me my Spanish was terrible, but I certainly figured it out in my very first day there”. His eyes were huge while he remembered the struggle it was to speak with my grandmother upon arriving at her house. “Bienvenidos,” she had told him with a big smile and multiple kisses on his stubble covered cheeks. He was enamored with her… and terrified of her at the same time.

“It was a good time though. When you met the guys at Aventura, I thought you were going to buy a house nearby immediately, so that you could take my old job at the ziplines. I must admit, they are super fun”. He had gotten along really well with my zipline boys, despite their poor Portuguese and their uncanny ability to tease anything with legs. I have good taste in friends.

We were coming up to the end of the road and the end of our little nostalgic rendezvous when I decided I had better do what I had intended to at the beginning of the walk. It had taken me weeks to decide I was going to do this, and I couldn’t use walking down one more street as an excuse anymore.

I slowed down to a stop before the road met its turn, and waited for him to follow suit. That stupid lump that likes to live in my throat from time to time, showed up like clockwork. It never likes to leave my voice alone.

“I might make you late to class afterall,” I told him with what I’m sure was a terribly pitiful look on my face. “I have something to tell you”.

He interpreted pitiful as a sort of false apologetic. Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. “Damnit, you know my professors are going to kill me,” he said with another look at his watch.

“No. I know, but I promised myself I would tell you this, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to later…”

Now his face was serious. “What exactly could be so important,” he prodded with a bit of hesitation. “Is everything alright? Is something wrong with abuela? Is that why you brought up Monteverde?”

“No, she’s fine,” I laughed a bit to myself at the thought of my strong-as-an-ox grandmother being in trouble. “No, it has nothing to do with any of my family members.”

“Wait, are you breaking up with him? You know how much I hate that guy you like to call your boyfriend. He is suuuuch a douche, always speaking Spanish like some kind of native or…” But at seeing my expression of disapproval he refrained from saying more.

“Okay, so what’s the problem?”

“I am leaving. I can’t afford to live in Portugal, and time is running out.”

“I thought you said you had five more years,” he jabbed, convinced that what I was telling him could not physically be possible. He was angry with me.

“I thought I did. Five years was somewhat of an estimation anyway. Please don’t be upset with me. I have to go.”

“Well, where are you going to go? Are you going by yourself?” he started to spit out questions frantically.

“I’m getting on the plane in five hours. He bought me a ticket, but I don’t know where to. I’d rather just be surprised… you know me… I don’t have that many things, so it shouldn’t be a problem to pack when I get to the apartment,” I answered almost systematically. I was talking to the only person who knew my real situation. He should understand, but he couldn’t grasp it.

“So, you are going by yourself?”

“Yes.”

He looked at his watch for a minute. “I’m coming with you. I am not letting you do this by yourself again. I felt terrible when I let you go to Morocco alone”.

“Technically I left without even telling you, so that’s not really your fault. You don’t have to come. I just wanted to let you know, rather than wandering off without notice this time. You can’t ditch school. Your mother will kill you.”

The little plastic pegs moved slowly with accompanying ticks. He stood there with no sense of direction, despite having been down this road a thousand times. He had five ticks to make up his mind, and he knew he had fewer before I disappeared.

He grabbed my arm and led me toward the turn without saying a word. He lost his vertigo, and walked with purpose.

“We will have to get our housemate to find new tenants and send us the money,” he said thinking outloud, “I swear, if that jerk of yours chose somewhere cold, I am going to hate him even more. I am not having you die before you need to because of something stupid like hypothermia.”

“I’d rather not die in the cold either, but I told him that it had to be somewhere plesant. He thinks I’m staying for vacation anyway. Kind of like when a widow tells her kids that their dad ‘went on vacation’. I’m assuming he knew me well enough to know that I liked warm places.”

“At least I won’t have to hang out with him anymore,” he mumbled with a hint of satisfaction, “I can’t believe you let him pick the last trip.”

I smiled. Only a best friend can be mad at you for dying.

We made it to the apartment, and as expected, I packed within twenty minutes. Everything I owned was stuffed into a big, red and black hiker’s backpack. I’ve gotten used to rushing. The only thing I was leaving behind was a huge Cesc Fabregas poster and a collection of books I had picked up at the fair. Extra weight… and, well, an unecessary –in terms of where I was going- poster.

“Ready,” he told me ten minutes after I had finished, “let’s go. I left a note. I called my mother. She’s going to come get the rest of my stuff tomorrow, and then send it to me when we have an address in Chile.”

“Cheater! You looked at the plane ticket!”

“Do you have any idea how much more pissed off my mother would be if I gave her no information?” he asked with a laugh. His smile convinced me that he had accepted his decision. He doesn’t joke when he doesn’t feel like it.

“Fine, but don’t you dare tell me what airport we’re flying into. I like the surprise. It makes me feel alive,” I said with a wink. He hated when I joked about being sick. He rolled his eyes yet again, and started walking towards the door.

He opened the door, ready to walk out; “why did I have to find a best friend in someone with a time limit?”

“Because maybe it will teach you to stop looking at that damn watch, and just keep walking.”

First draft silliness

Free Hugs

2010-07-23T21:16:00.000-07:00

I have been walking around with this song by Ray LaMontagne stuck in my head. It's not a particularly genious song or anything, but the way his voice sings it... well, sometimes less is more. Here are some of the lyrics to Let it Be Me:

Feels like your always commin on home,
pockets full of nothin and you got no cash
no matter where you turn you aint got no place to stand
reach out for something and they slap your hand

Now i remember all to well
just how it feels to be all alone
you feel like you'd give anything
for just a little place you can call your own

That's when you need someone, someone that you can call
and when all your faith is gone
feels like you cant go on
let it be me
let it be me
if its a friend you need
let it be me
let it be me

Now, clearly, that is not too complicated, but for some reason it won't leave me alone. It's amazing how easy it seems to be to make someone feel better by simply letting him know you are there (no I'm not sexist. I'm just lazy, and would prefer not to type "him or her" every time I'm talking about "someone"... look what you've done! Now I've typed way more than two extra words. Maaaan). Anyway. In a round-about way, this reminds me of how much selfishness pisses me off. Look. It's easy to console someone. It's easy to be there for another person. It's easy to smile and say hello. Then, what the hell is up with the assholes who wander around acting like no one is worth their precious time? Jerks. They frustrate me so.

On the other hand, wonderfully nice people make me remember the faith I have put in the human race, with not beliving in any higher power and whatnot, that's quite important to me. Ipso facto, when I saw two dudes holding up a sign in the middle of New York City that said, "Free Hugs", I couldn't help but literally run over and give each of them a hug. From a distance I had seen people walk by them looking cautious. It's so sad that we can't trust a hug. I understand why we don't, but it's still sad. They didn't rob me. They didn't touch me creepily. They just gave me two really damn good hugs. I was actually quite impressed by their hugging abilities. They should be hug professionals... but then again, I guess they kind of are if they're advertising it and everything.

So, this is my hippy announcement for the month; give someone a hug when you wouldn't normally do so. Don't rob them in the process, and don't be a creep. Don't worry, I trust you can handle the task.

Also, if anyone ever needs a hug, give me a call... I have an endless supply ;-) Okay, maybe that smiley is a tad creepy. =)

The Punch Line

2010-06-29T21:09:00.000-07:00

My geeky excitement knows no bounds. Two weeks ago, while watching the Spain vs Portugal game, I could not control myself. I was positively giddy with the adrenaline of winning for once. Singing Yo soy fiel a la roja in the middle of the gym is just dumb, but it slipped. After the game, I danced around eurphorically while the juiced up dudes watched on with terrified faces. During the next game, Spain vs Paraguay, I screamed in my living room with Calimocho in hand. My parents clearly thought I was wasted because the last time they saw me at a soccer game, I was ten and watching my brother's high school team... not exactly scream worthy. However, drunkeness was not a factor in my emotions. This past sunday, when Spain finally won the World Cup, I felt the relief of no longer putting my faith in a racked team that would repeatedly not deliver. Spain, my first love, is finally the world champion! Mwahaha! ¡¡¡¡Por fin!!!!

This is my last week at work!! Yes! Another finally type of situation. I am PUMPED to bounce outta here. Sure, I've had fun with my friends down south (Maryland is in the south, shut up), but I am 100% ready to make moves, hang with my Chilean visitors (!), watch my brother get married, and go to Spain! I have definitely mentioned all of this more times than necessary, but when you are excited about something...

Have you ever noticed that shower curtains tend to be attracted to you when you're showering? I find this particularly annoying when the shower stall is itty bitty, as they are here on a college campus. They must love carressing freshly shaved legs or something, because I constantly feel violated by the unsettlingly off-white plastic curtains in our dorm showers. Am I alone on this one?

Last saturday I went into NYC. I was only supposed to stay until 1:30 (the time of the last train to NJ), but I missed it. I went to a comedy show, and completely forgot to pay attention to the time. Fail. The last comedian got on stage and said something about it being 2am, and thus I became aware of my situation. Next train? 7am. Curse you, public transportation in the United States. Good did come out of the evening however; don't get me wrong. I found a new comedian to love, Joey Gay. Dude was hilarious. One of my favorite jokes began with him singing Sweeeeet Caroline .......... and then waiting for the audience to fill in with the BUM BUM BUM part. We did as we should, and then he hit us with the punch line, "and that is how you find white people lost in the woods". Hilarious and accurate. I am a big fan. Thus the list of people who can make me laugh more than normal grows.

Saucey Swiss and Cheeky Chile

2010-06-17T10:56:00.000-07:00

Apparently I spoke too soon. This World Cup is out of control. For example, how the shit did Switzerland beat Spain? What happened there? How did the US get a goal taken away from them by a terrible ref (who will probably want to go into hiding), but also get a goal handed to them by piss-poor goal tending on the side of the Brits? Don't even get me started on France. Protesting Anelka's absence certainly did help you look like idiots, if that is what you were going for. Out already guys? Really? Didn't you know that you were in the finals just four years ago? Silly.

My dear Chile has been doing quite well. They do need to pick it up a bit and actually sink all of the shots they are taking on goal. That's one of the big differences between them and Argentina. Where Argentina has shots that go in the goal, Chile has a lot of beautiful plays that somehow do not have a happy ending. And they are sooo pretty. The plays and the players. =) Ohh, Sánchez.

I think my fandom has confused a few people in this American gymnasium at which I work. We have a TV that sits right next to the front desk, and it has been playing all of the games (which of course, I had nothing to do with). I sit there in front of it with a Chilean flag and some maté, and I yell. No joke, I yell. People will walk by me and ask if the United States is playing, and when I rushedly answer "no", they will look at my flag and accompanying intensity with utter confusion. I know they are thinking, "isn't that the Texan flag?". "Nay, it is the flag of a country who actually cares about this sport," I feel like saying, but refrain from doing so because the game is still on. I know they are confused by my cheering for a different country, but I don't feel like explaining that Chile is simply better to watch. They pass so well, and the US is just so spastic sometimes... perhaps because Howard has tourrets. Ok, bad joke. Also, I don't know any cheers for US soccer that are quite as fun as C - H - I! CHI! L - E! LE!! CHI - CHI - CHI! LE - LE - LE! VIVA CHILE!!!

Jobs, Marriage, and Children from Mars

2010-06-09T15:39:00.000-07:00

My brother is getting married!

Alright, yes, I have been aware of this for quite awhile, however, it really just hit me now when I put it on my calendar. Nate, the elder of my two brothers is getting married!! Not only does this officially give me a niece and another sister, but it brings me and my two brothers together for the first time since Justin got married a little over four years ago! Four freaking years! This shall be epic, especially now that we are all mature enough to get along without killing each other (most of the time). ;-)

I am officially excited. I am also officially old enough to hang out with them in the real world! Furthermore, I am officially ready for all of my friends to meet Justin, who left too soon to meet any of the people I hang out with now. A lot has changed since high school.

In other news, JG got a lovely spot in the news far away in Hawai'i! Check it out! It's a bit more badass than the time I was on the news in Chile for being at the big qualifying game versus Ecuador. He actually gets to talk in it.

Speaking of soccer... The World Cup has officially started! I'm not going to lie however, most of the games have not wowed me. I give New Zealand a lot of credit for showing the world that they aren't just a fill-in team. They gave their all the whole game against Slovakia... all the way upt o their goal in stoppage time. Thank you New Zealand. In Paraguay versus Italy, I was begging the Paraguayans to score again, but they failed to fufill my jittery desires. The only major win thus far has been Germany vs Australia, but was that really a surprise? Nah. Actually, the most drama seems to be either about the ball or the crazy annoying vuvuzelas. People want the South Africans to ditch the obnoxious horns, but I say let them have their spirit! Who knows how long their team will be in the tournament anyway? (Though, I have officially been converted into a Tshabalala fan)

Last but certainly not least: I stumbled

upon this fabulous article about a boy who's parents seem to think is from Mars. Mmm. How did they give birth to a baby from a different planet? Oh, Russians.

And I will leave you with a lovely photograph. I have no idea who it's by or where it was taken... the website looked like it was in Greek?

Tina Fey is badass enough to eat paella alone! (I'm postulating)

2010-06-05T06:41:00.000-07:00

Customer service has taught me many things. On one hand, I love working with people. It is such a feeling of accomplishment when you get them what they want, and when they need (or more likely just want) it. The problem lies within the customer's ability to ocassionally be a complete and total ass. Seriously. Chill out people. Sometimes it's really not that serious. Thus, instead of being what I am currently, a bottom of the totem pole legalized servant, I propose being Tina Fey. I mean really, who doesn't enjoy Tina Fey? Perhaps not Sarah Palin, but how many people really care what she thinks now that her daughter's baby daddy is speaking openly to the public? Exactly. Sometimes I even forgot Sarah... shit, what's the rest of her name? Who was I talking about? Oh yeah, Tina Fey is awesome. I want to be her.

In other observations.

I was stumbling on stumbleupon.com, which is an excellent way to waste time by wandering the world wide web. Anyway, this gloious time killing machine led me to a blog of some sort that displayed a bunch of world flags made out of foods that stereotypically represent the people of that nation. Look at Brasil, it is beautiful:

Pretty right? I honestly have no idea what the yellow thing in the middle is, and that avocado is not exactly blue... BUT it's still pretty awesome. Now check out Spain:

I love rice and chorizo as much as any other carnivore, but that does not look anywhere near as pretty as Brasil's flag. It kind of makes Spaniards look like fattys whereas, Brasilians look badass and exotic. What happened here? Even the curry they use for India looks less heart-attacky. Italy's looks positively gorgeous with basil, spaghetti, and tomatoes. Paella is just way prettier in a pan I guess.

Last, but not least:

I am becomming increasingly aware of how annoying I find overly affectionate couples. I am all for loving the one you're with and whatnot, but there is in fact a line. I'm not talking making out in public, holding hands, or putting a head on someone's shoulder. Pish posh. I saw enough of that in Chile to make me immune to PDA for life. What really bothers me is how and what they say to each other. I cannot stand it when grown ass adults talk to each other in baby voices. NO. Nicknaming each other things that my parents called me as a child, and sometimes continue to call me; not okay. NO. Asking the other to do something in the most sickenly sweet, yet roundabout way possible = obnoxious. Posting on each other's facebook walls, and signing it "Love of my life forever", is disgusting.

Alright, that's enough complaining for me today. I should save some; I still have to go to work.

Hypochondriac Moment

2010-06-01T03:56:00.000-07:00

I have mild and insanely random cases of paranoia. Right now I am having one of them. Unfortunately, it is seven in the morning, and I cannot talk away my fear with anyone. Argh!!!

I'm at work when I realize how itchy I am... then around my neck I notice a bunch of tiny itchy bumps... something like hives!? Fuck me. Pardon my french, but DAMNIT! I have no idea what it is I have done differently today that would give me hives, and now I am freaking out a little bit. Of course thinking about it is just making it worse, so I do not trust my own paranoia. However, this could potentially be a pain in the behind. Who knows how many weird diseases there are running around a college campus. Not to mention, I probably live with a million different species of spiders and there are mice everywhere. Well, at least I haven't passed out yet. But seriously, I'm going to be hella pissed if I contract some bizarre disease before going to Spain.

The Big City

2010-05-25T14:10:00.000-07:00

I cannot even begin to imagine the number of movies that were made in New York. I swear every time I'm there I see a camera, but have no clue where the important actors are... big deal movies must really just be lying. The famous people only stand in front of green screens... that is the theory... except for maybe Hugh Jackman... he's pretty badass.... though I can't remember seeing him in a movie that takes place in New York.... Kate & Leopald maybe?

Aaaaanyway, last week I went into the city to apply for my Visa to study abroad in Madrid. They are quite the pain in the butt because they make you do the appointment face-to-face, rather than simply mailing in the papers. It's okay though because I am chronically early. I arrived in the city, an hour train ride from my parents house, at 9:30am. What time was my appointment? Noon. I cannot help it. It's innate.

So, I arrive SUPER early, and just decide to walk the 50 blocks. Literally. I walked 50 blocks to get to the consulate, and I was still early. Ridiculous, I know. The odd thing is, I enjoy it. I don't stress out for a second because I know I have a boat load of time to kill. It's a very liberating feeling to know that if nothing else, you are at least guaranteed the props for arriving on time.

I made some great observations while I was there wandering as well. Usually I get a bit frustrated by the people pushing and shoving their ways around, but that day I veered left, right, diagonal, and wherever the hell I felt like, and in the process I got a good laugh. One of my favorite encounters was the dude who crossed a street while the light was still red. As he passed me, grabbing the front of his pants as if it were the heaviest thing he had ever taken the time to lift, he said, "yeah, that's right. I'm a G. I crossed on a red light". [Don't forget to imagine the most forced gangsta accent you can muster up].

The people who stand on the sidewalks with notebooks and petitions and tickets to sell have the worst jobs in the world. I know from experience that New Yorkers can be some of the toughest people around, and asking them for some of their precious time could potentially get you the look of death. Rush, rush, rush. Time to sign your name in approval of human rights? Absolutely not! I am far too important for that! Umpf!

My personal favorite of the street-walker variety is the comedy club ticket distributor. They ask for nothing in return aside from your acceptance of their ticket... problem is, in NYC there are so many comedy clubs that a free ticket is not really a big deal. You would go to twelve in a day if you accepted them all. The street dudes are actually funny enough themselves to give you somewhat of a condensed version of the show. I, being the sucker that I am, am incapable (I think I just invented that word... It should be a word... I am not capable?) of denying them eyecontact. I simply cannot look away. It's a bizarre phenomenon that leaves me giving money out to the homeless, signing a million petitions, joining groups, and going to free shows. I'm trying to get better however... so now I'm returning to the story at hand... a comedy club salesman caught my eye and said, "please don't walk away. I've already lost my voice today, I don't want to lose you too". Clever street salesman man. Verrry clever. I stopped to turn around and say, "I'm sorry," but when I saw his attempt at a pitiful face that had left behind the traces of upturned corners in his lips, I burst out in laughter instead. Problem solved. No free laughter necessary. =)

Oh New York City, you never fail to enrich my life with something outlandish.

Ow

2010-05-19T10:41:00.000-07:00

Doctors. A lot of people really do not enjoy them, this is true. And even though I've never met a doctor who I didn't enjoy as a person, I too get nervous once I enter the room... I still don't understand what those little colored flags near the door are for.... secret codes don't make people any less nervous.

Anyway, the last time I was going to doctor's offices I was getting prepared to go to Chile a year ago (CRAZY). Here are two experiences that probably explain my shaky hands upon signing all of those medical papers:

Situation numero uno...

So, I'm going to get my yellow fever vaccination in Princeton (you know, Ivy League, Fancy Shmancey school), when I meet my nurse. Nice lady. I tell her I need the shot because I am going to Chile, and she asks me why I'm studying there. I explain that I am a Spanish major, and with needle in hand she tilts her head to one side. "Why are you going to Chile if you are a Spanish major?" she asks me.

Um....

How do I respond to that one? All I could do was look at her with my mouth open, grasping for a nice way to say, "what the hell kind of language do you think they speak in Chile?". As she approached me with the seemingly very large needle, I saw it click in her eyes. "Oh, do they speak Spanish in Chile?" Thank god she figured that one out by herself. I feel so comforted that this woman is injecting me with yellow fever. Awesome.

Situation number two: the fall

Three shots and a blood sample to test for HIV. All on the same day. Holy crap, was I not excited for that. I think the shots were for Polo, Cervical cancer, and Hepatitus? The Guardasil really hurts, as a heads up, and I would full on suggest just not getting it. Moving on.

While I was getting my blood taken for the first time in my memory, they sat me on a small rolly chair next to a table. I was doing reaaally well not looking at my arm or thinking about the extraction of my life source, when all of a sudden I started getting warm and was dreaming? I have no idea what happened, but I felt like I was having a crazy speedy succession of wild dreams. I don't even remember the majority of them, but I do remember waking up from them.

I'm on the floor. Ow. My leg is stuck underneath the rest of me. Owww, crap, that hurts. Okay, I am also stuck in a small corner surrounded by nurses and my mother, all yelling. Ufff, I need to get this leg out of this position. (And now this is where I really started trying to shake my leg out from under me) "MOVE!" I finally verbalize to the surrounding women that I need space. Thank GOD my leg is free. "Jesus, you guys were crowding me so badly, I couldn't get my leg out" Ugh.... "Kait, we thought you were having a seizure". Of course you did.

I passed out. I passed out for the first time in my entire life, and my main concern upon awaking was my silly leg. Why the hell did they put me on a rolly chair!? It's alright. I got a lolly pop for my bodily sacrifice. Rewards; almost enough to keep me from disliking the doctor's office. Still, I can't believe my mom thought I was having a seizure. When have I ever done that? Why would I start now? Lesson of this situation: do not get your blood taken while sitting on a rolly chair with no back.

Que Emoción

2010-05-18T10:05:00.001-07:00

Exciting! Exciting! Exciting!!!!!

I am in New Jersey, yes, BUT I am getting all of my paperwork together to make my way to SPAIN! Again!!!! Goodness gracious, it is finally hitting me that I will be on the Mediterranean Sea in August. AUGUST! I can hardly hold it together!

Okay, granted, I still have a whole summer's worth of work and reasearch to do before I make my way to Europe, but pish posh. There are fabulous things to distract me from that like the World Cup, which everyone this side of the globe knows I'm excited for. My brother is getting married! I'm spending a week at the beach with my family searching for the assholes who make New Jersey look like an armpit... and I'm totally going to threaten every fist pump I see. I get to hang out with Mo and the boys. I get to sail my little (well, actually quite large) butt off. Terribly exciting!

Tomorrow I'm off to the city to attempt getting my Visa. I actually get very nervous when I go to these consulates, but it's okay. I can do this. Hopefully it's not raining. Maybe I'll take some pictures of the city.... My brain is on Maté, sorry. =)

Regularly Restive

2010-05-15T22:54:00.000-07:00

How is it that the most comfortable bed I have ever had the pleasure of sleeping on always manages to keep sleep out of my reach!?!? Curse you, comfy bed with your cloud-white sheets of insomnia! May your thick pillow top of unrest meet it's maker and put me out of my misery! I'm appalled by your deceitfully tranquil looks, and I refuse to float on your perfectly fluffed pillows of wakefullness any longer. You conundrum of cotton!!

Okay, 2am is 8pm somewhere, right? Maybe if I trick myself that I'm in Hawai'i, I won't be tired anymore? We know if I tricked myself I was in Spain (8am), I would definitely be tired. Hawai'i it is! Hmm, where could I find some mango at this hour?

And the beat goes on

2010-05-15T21:31:00.001-07:00

If you asked why it took me five some odd years, a giant coffee, six hours of driving, a surge of graduation related emotions, a dash of Américo, and a cool New Jersey night to finally trust my direction skills around the silly small town I have lived in for the past fifteen years, I would have no answer for you. I got into Pennington, shut off my GPS, and just wandered at midnight, despite having woken up at 7:30 today, seeing all of my friends at college graduate and probably leave me forever, and subsequently driven eons to get back here. Ah, Jersey. I am just going to assume that the answer to this question is the sudden realization that things change fast, and I was still hypped up on caffeine. Crazy stuff.

But honestly, why did I ever doubt my skills before? It's really not even that hard. Is this some mental phychology thing, because I have been in this town less recently than in my entire teen-adult life... curious. Well, I have a week to enjoy it before I go back down to school for the summer.

Before I get emotional...

This week was senior week! A bunch of wild things occurred, leaving some interesting memories of the graduating class behind in the river, soil, and buildings of St. Mary's. I saw kids jump into pools with all of their clothes on, more naked people than I've ever seen in this country, levels of drunkeness that should lead to hospital visits, but didn't somehow, my common room being cleaned, crazy, I know, rock statues being climbed in flip flops and skirts, a floating trampoline, full with a girl oblivious to the fact that her boob was hanging right out of her bra... apparently she hadn't gotten the bathing suit memo, professors dancing to Lady Gaga, beers making their way into the hands of recent graduates, tears on faces that are normally smiling, and goodbyes that were not meant for today. I didn't cry, but I also, once again, could not muster up any real goodbyes. Man, do I ever suck at that. Really, by the definition of the word, there is no such thing. How could you ever be positive you would never see that person again? It is a small world after all. Too bad it's just not cheaper to appreciate it's small size. Stupid airlines. Ranting. I know.

Well, I've come up with some interesting plans for my time here, while I'm not driving around doing errands that is. I need to spend one lousy day in NYC getting my visa, but after that I'm using up my free time with adventures. I'm tired of sitting around. Let's make the magic happen. (And, I say that in an NBA badass, coachy way, not a World of War Craft/Dragon Forcey kind of way). Forward motion!

Tired, Hungry, and Awkward

2010-05-08T10:00:00.000-07:00

Waking up before the sun is completely shining is ungodly. I'm at work, but my eyes keep closing without my permission. What are they thinking!? There are a lot of people in the gym today; playing basketball for some event, asking me to fix things I never knew had a function in the first place, hitting on me awkwardly while I help them get into supply rooms, and eating food in front of me as if I had actually remembered to bring myself something to work at 5am this morning, and wasn't starving. What.ever. will all of those people do if my eyes are closed? Things would go straight crazy!

On another note...

I have just decided what I would love my life to be; teaching professional soccer players English. I was reading an article about Mark Gonzalez, from the Chilean national team, and all of a sudden it hit me. That would be awesome. Please, if any trainer, agent, parent, girlfriend, WHATEVER, wants to get me this job somehow, hit me up!!!

If that doesn't work out, and let's face it, it's not likely, then I want to translate. I want to do face to face translations though. None of that paperwork junk... unless it's translating books, which would also be kind of cool. It would be awesome to translate for television (cough cough, hint hint, Chilevisión), court cases, embassies, NPOs, museums... did I mention soccer players yet? Organizing big charity events would be kind of fun too. Oh!, and owning a used bookstore that served international coffee and tea would be pretty bangin' as well. Crap. World, why do you supply so may options to the educated that seem so fun, but that don't actually utilize their education!? ¬¬

Wait, did I tell you??

I was writing a paper on this book called, El regreso del idiota, that felt the need to verbally abuse the writers it disagreed with. The attitude just managed to piss me off. Okay, so we get that you think you are better than everyone else, but why did you feel the need to get proof of that published and placed on my class' reading requirement list? Screw you.

And with a smile...

This week will be the end of exams and senior week! I'm pretty sure I will be adopting the family members of all of my friends because I am the lowly junior not yet graduating, and thus, not even remotely busy. I'm thinking about making myself a T-shirt that designates me as the family daycare specialist. We will see how this pans out.

**EDIT** (I couldn't let you go without a few awkward moments, courtesy of my life)

Awkward Moments of Today at Work (listed in order of occurrence):

1. Helping someone make copies, and waiting for all 48 pages to be printed despite the fact that my only role in the job was pressing in the code at the very beginning. Once I had stood there half-way through, I couldn't decide if I should just stick it out and stay, or if I could leave. I stayed. Awkward.

2. Leading someone to a supply closet, and tripping over my own feet. Literally, there was nothing to trip on. He pulled out the comforting, "don't worry, I do that all the time". Suuure you do.

3. Being yelled at to find the trainer, finding said trainer, telling her what happened, and subsequently getting yelled at by her as well because apparently she already knew what happened. Why was I necessary in this equation?

4. Being said hello to, but not realizing it until the person had already walked away... but then again, this happens all the time.

5. Being startled... and I don't want to say startled awake here because I wouldn't consider myself asleep per se... by the sound of the Circle of Life being blasted from one of the courts.

6. Drooling over the concession stand...

Sometimes

2010-05-06T23:27:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I get frustrated by my inability to explain the emotions that overwhelm me like a cliché in what could have been a beautifully written sentence. My brain surges with information until exhaustion breaks the rythmic pounding, and puts it to rest. My emotions, however, fill out to my finger tips, making them pulse and shake with some kind of unstoppable theoretical physical reaction. I'm not spiritual and have never cared to learn the secrets of the world, but still, I feel a literal ache knawing at my core, whatever that may be. I feel emotions that don't exist because no language can conceive of their definition. My full fingers expect to hold on to the beauty of a moment, but the task is a foolhardy one. Somehow the perceived physical reality fails me, and I am left once again with the numbing batter in my brain; where my memories rest and I try to understand their resistance to the break down. My fingers hold nothing, but they feel heavier than any thought I've ever had. Thinking and feeling consume me sometimes.

No Stupid Questions

2010-05-05T11:46:00.000-07:00

"They" say there is no such thing as a stupid question... so, I'm writing that "reggae in latin america" paper when I stumble upon a question written on a website titled, rastafari.org, and I figure I'll give it the benefit of the doubt, just as "they" say I should. I failed. It may not be stupid, but it certainly is something else...

Here's the question:

"Is it possible to be a Rastafarian Satanist Jew?"

Anyone? I think someone needs to answer this person's question so that he or she can go on worshiping Satan, eating matzah balls for Passover, and believing in oneness calmly and in peace. Someone should give him some reasurrance that he's on the right track, don't you think?

Ha, hahaha.

Cinco de Mayo

2010-05-05T09:23:00.000-07:00

In honor of Cinco de Mayo, a date that is not actually the legitimate one for Mexican independence, I would like to celebrate everything that is affected by the Spanish language. Yes, this is a serious task, but I am willing to take it on. I feel prepared for the responsability of such a challenge, and I am ready to celebrate the crap out of Spanish. Who better to do the job? =)

As I sit here drinking maté and listening to Los Prisioneros, a Chilean 80's grupo, I think about the ensayo I need to write about the influencia of Reggae on the Latin American cultura, and its Spanish start in Panamá. The eight paginas in Spanish are slightly daunting, but solamente because I have another cinco pages to write on Cuban nationality... yes, also in Español. I smile however, for the postcard my Spanish host madre sent me from Chichen-Itza is resting on top of my Real Academia Española diccionario, thus hiding the cruel face of research I will pronto be commencing.

My 80's música changes over to Calle 13's song, Cumbia de los Aburridos, and I lose myself in locas lyrics. It reminds me of the time I listened to the song with my profesor from Ecuador, and we discussed the social critiques the banda uses in order to question leaders like Chavez and Morales, or how they admire the struggle to live in the Andes. I get so easily distracted, and all it takes is one song from Tapón, the Costa Rican reggaeton artista, to get me started on my love for reggaetón artists like Notch... despite their terrible lyrics. The beat is fabuloso; almost as exciting as a Mayan fiesta in Guatemala.

I give in to distracción (it was bound to happen eventualmente) and pull up my homepage, FIFA.com. Sorpresa? I fear that Honduras will cause problemas for my dear Chile, but it seems that Paraguay or Uruguay would have better luck with that. I'm emocionada to see the outcome, but somehow my mind turns to the senior presentations I saw this week on El Salvadorian women and the FSLN. Mierda. Buzz kill. I need to get back to work, don't I? Damnit. I wish it wasn't as hot as Guinea Ecuatorial in this freaking universidad. It would be so much easier to work with some better aire acondicionado in this place. Pucha.

Maybe I'll celebrar after I finish these papers. We shall see. Ensayos culiados. Regardless, I'm allowing myself to use as much Español as I feel like today. Ha! Sorry amigos and familia, but it's Cinco de Mayo.

Enamorada

2010-05-03T03:00:00.001-07:00

(Por ToniMolero)

It's official. I have SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder).

Alright, so technically it's not official. I have never gone to a doctor to get it checked out, and in all honesty, I feel a little silly giving it the concern of an actual disease. However, my mood is significantly more agreeable when it is warm outside. Sunshine makes me really, genuinely happy. Don't even get me started about warm nights. I can legitimately just sit outside on a warm night, do absolutely nothing, and be euphoric. That's what summer does to me. It makes me crazy... but in a good way.

Sometimes when I think about how indescribably beautiful Mediterranean nights are, I get almost too excited for Spain in August. Magical isn't the right word because of the cheesy factor that we are incapable of separating it from, but something like that is how I would describe a night on the Mediterranean. It inspires its own sort of emotion that simply just does not exist in any other way.

Now, if only these financial issues could let me be excited about my trip...

Eager

2010-05-01T08:34:00.000-07:00

I was looking for a picture online that did justice to the eagerness I feel in finishing the semester and starting the summer, when I stumbled upon this photo. I immediately fell in love with it. Look at how absolutely beautiful it is. It sums up my love for life in image form. Have I praised it enough yet?

So, I kept looking at this guy's photography, Ian Francisco from the Philippines, and I found a really beautiful collection. Check it out. I also forgot why I went on the search in the first place. Why did I need a picture of eager? Oh well, I found something surprising, and now I'm passing it on. Enjoy.

Glitter Makes me Uncomfortable

2010-04-29T12:01:00.000-07:00

(Justin, Me, & Nate at Justin's wedding)

((AKA: The Disaster That Was Kait Walking Down the Aisle))

(((My hair is pin-straight and glitter-free naturally, just for a reference)))

Ugh. The apostrophe is a heart. I don't even want to go near it. I hate this.

Does everything have to be so shiny and lacey? Really, you only need one of those two excessively feminine characteristics, am I right? But noooo. We've got lacey, shiny, silky, rhinestoney, velvety, frilly, and poofy all in one, and I think it's starting to make me regret the drive here. Wait, are those supposed to be fabric flowers?

Oh, of course the only mirrors are out in the middle of the store, so that I am forced to show everyone how I look like a green (the only color they have at the time) cream puff. Of course I have to borrow a strapless bra that is padded like field hockey shinguards, which, I'm not sure if you are aware, are much thicker than soccer shinguards, just in order to try on a dress. What am I going to get hit with at a wedding that I need so much protection for?

But, I am not complaining. Oh, no. I suck it up even though the aisles upon aisles of wedding dresses are making me a bit light headed. The girl who just left after buying one (one dress, not one whole aisle full) looked like she was maybe a year older than me, and positively thrilled to be getting married. The mere thought of that makes shivers go down my back. 21 and married? No gracias.

Not to say that people my age can't get married! Go for it, just don't expect me to say yes to any man down on one knee... unless that man be... nevermind. =)

"The dress will be in on July 22nd. Is that alright ma'am?"

I was smiling to myself just then, wasn't I? The tatooed employee without a wedding band on her finger snaps me back into the world of the speaking, not just the thinking.

"Yeah, that should be fine. Thanks!"

Ma'am? Does she know I'm not the one getting married? Does she know I'm still in college, only wear "nice" clothes to work, and even those have holes in them? Apparently not.

I text Jared back in response to the question he had asked me before I walked into the store of "happily ever after" expectations [AKA: David(heart for an apostrophe)s bridal]; 'do you know of any good movies coming out this summer?'

"Well, if it's not Harry Potter #167: Revenge of the Nerdy Wizards or something along those lines, then it must be The Disaster That Was Kait Walking Down the Aisle: Part II."

"I would love to have that on video," was the response.

At least this time there would be no glittery, hairsprayed curls... Although, the baby blue dress might just make the sequel even better than the first. We'll have to wait for the ratings.

At Least Dorothy had Toto

2010-04-26T15:50:00.001-07:00

You never quite know the meaning of alone until you are sitting in an empty house by the window while tornado warning alarms are going off across your college campus. People outside are running into the closest buildings they can find, texts about going into basements and losing service are being sent, and I am just chilling in my empty house. Did I mention that I didn't even notice the warning alarm at first because my music was on too loud? Yeah, I'm prepared for a natural disaster.

And for some reason I have a complete and total lack of fear. Okay, I know that one reason for that is that I feel like an earthquake is happening every time someone who lives upstairs takes a step. Currently, it is just raining outside; not the most frightening of weather patterns.

I guess this means I'm going to keep all of those little secrets to myself.... =)

Three more essays, two more revisions, and one exam to go before I am free. The future holds freedom, sunshine, running at night, working at the gym, and starting my SMP. Somehow, I can't wait.

Forced Insomnia, Unintended Fatigue

2010-04-22T10:54:00.000-07:00

If I take a nap now, I will never wake up again, so the plan for today is to take ten to fifteen minute breaks throughout the day to keep my brain occupied with more than just Islamic history. Maybe if I write the random thoughts down, they will leave my cranium and give me space for real facts.

Break One:

I have been up since 8am, after sleeping for four hours. So far so good. I'm on my third hot pot worth of maté, and I still have multiple energy drinks in the fridge. As of yet I have felt no impending doom. It is 2pm. There is sun shining through my window, and I have some nice Cuban jazz playing in the background. I have written most of my Greek history paper, cha-ching! I have started by Spanish presentation, bam! I am about 40% done with my Islamic paper, even though I have not even touched on the Islamic presence in Spain yet, mwahaha. Could be worse, don't you think?

What's the non-academic thing on my mind at the moment, however? Chatroulette! If you haven't heard about it yet; it is an online site where you link up with random people via video chat. When you are bored, or more likely, creeped out by them you can hit NEXT, and voila! New person! Sheena, Mo, Andrea, and I all partook in the slightly sketchy adventure this past weekend, and I have to admit, I loved it. Granted, you need to be prepared to see some creeps, but that is the glory of the NEXT button. Dude sitting oddly in the dark? NEXT. Unwanted anatomical views? NEXT. Cool group of people hanging out in a living room in Barcelona? Fiesta!!!

We managed to "meet" people from Spain, Portugal, Germany, Holland, Greece, Brasil, Turkey, Canada, England, France, and Argentina. Uh, yes, please. Fill my living room with foreign people any time! Thanks Jared and Fabrizio for telling me about Chatroulette... I can now take the creep potential of the internet to the max. =)

Oh! Now my music is on to flamenco! Let's see how long this positive streak lasts.

Break Two:

Alright, my momentum is admittedly suffering with the adios from the sun. I forced myself to turn my background music off because I started paying more attention to lyrics than to my paper... which is kind of a challenge when the lyrics are in Spanish, and the paper is in English. The problem is, I have finally decided on my SMP (the senior project at my college), and I'm really excited about it. Are you wondering where I'm going with this thought? Allow me to explain.

After writing and rewriting my SMP proposal, I finally sat down with my advisor and confessed that I was being indecisive. I really wanted to write a strong 60 odd page report on something I loved, especially since I would be spending a year working on it. After throwing around ideas involving slang, comedy, Nicanor Parra and a slew of other random topics, I suggested Calle 13, unconvinced that my advisor would go for it. Much to my surprise, he sounded thrilled with the idea, and even sat down and listened to one of their songs with me in awe of their way with words. That was that! I had found my SMP. Calle 13, a musical group out of Puerto Rico that uses deep international beats and delectably vulgar lyrics, will be the item of my research affection for the next year. I am actually excited to write 60 pages in Spanish. So, hence, each time one of their songs popped up on my itunes today, I would start thinking about that project rather than the one I'm currently working on. I mean, why wouldn't I love a project dedicated to listening to music that I cannot stop listening to?... even if the group might not be the biggest fans of gringas. =)

coño zapatea que tú no eres gringa
yo te sacudo como un estornudo
te pongo a vomitar el desayuno
te enseño mi lenguaje hombruno
y con él te vacuno

-Cumbia de los aburridos

Seriously? That is way better than reggaetón. Thank you Calle 13, for actually saying something with your lyrics! Pero, puta la w'ea, que no puedo concentrarme en la historia, po!

Back to business.

Break Three:

Twelve hours to go! I am three energy enhancing drinks in, a little over half-way done with my paper, and I have entered the trance music phase of the evening.I have once again reached a positive outlook! I'm in a good mood mostly because I'm getting into the interesting part of the paper; the cultural aspect. You know me. Also, music with ridiculous beats and a lot of action kind of puts me in the zone. One time Mo told me that she listens to Girl Talk when she does work because it is an audio hodgepodge. I still can't handle the lyrics, so I listen to my brother's drum and base or dubstep from Chile. It is working wonders. Another plus, my housemates and I are going to take a good hour long break to refresh our thoughts and fill our bellies (and probably get some coffee). Oh! I also just used a resource written in Spanish for a history report. That makes me feel kind of bad ass. I'm lucky my brain is working in one language...

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming.

Fourth and Final Break:

Nap time for Kaitface. There are a potential two hours of sleep to be had here, and I am pretty thrilled about it. I finished way earlier than anticipated, but I know what my writing looks like when I haven't slept. I will no doubt need to do some corrections in a couple of hours.

Also, I let myself think about something completely different by watching Pedro Ruminot talk about Chilean snobs (Oh, how I wish I could use the words cuico, fome, flaite, bacán, etc. here... alas the only study abroad programs we have go to Costa Rica and Argentina... foooome), and I might have just sat here on this chair staring out of the dark window for a little bit as well... Definitely a sign it's time to nap. I'll watch the rest of the new club de la comedia when I'm alive again. =)

Stationary Study Stance

2010-04-19T11:56:00.000-07:00

Two weeks of class left. Sounds fabulous, doesn't it? Ha! If you are having a bad day, please look at the following schedule to make yourself feel better. You're welcome.

Due dates:

Monday: Completely new abstract and 10 page annotated bibliography for my senior project.

Tuesday: (A day of work, work, and more work)

Wednesday: 1 Paper on Alexander the Great

Choose a mentor for my senior project

Two reading synopsi

Thursday: (Day two of WORK, WORK, and WORK)

Friday: 15 Page research paper on Islamic culture in Spain

5 Page paper on the similarities and differences between Socrates and Aristotle

Spanish presentation on racism in Chile

Next Week: 8 Page minimum paper on the influence of reggae in latin america.

8 Page final for Islamic History

In-Class exam for Greek History

Unidentified Spanish paper

SMP presentation

All I can say is ew, ewwww.

The spider still hasn't moved, by the way... kind of like how I won't move from my study position for the next two weeks.

Para Variar

2010-04-17T05:45:00.001-07:00

I am sitting at work, a terrible day at work mind you because we have both a volleyball tournament and a swim meet (essentially an opportunity for a lot of little kids and their parents to run around the building while I'm only half awake, and the only person on staff), when some fatherly looking dude stops in front of my desk. Clearly, I'm on my computer, but I look up to see what it is this man requires my attention for. The following conversation ensues:

"You working hard back there?" -Random dude with a smile on his face.

Awkward giggle... "uh, yeah.." -Me

"Sure, sure. You're probably back there texting your boyfriend telling him to wake up." Then in a mock girl voice while he pretends to text he says, "I'm awake, you should be too"... [as if I would actually do that]...

Blank stares from me...

"Yeah, I know. That's how you girls are," he says as he walks away totally proud of his knowledge for all that is feminine.

The only two words I said the whole time were "uh" and "yeah". How the hell am I supposed to respond to a random dude who both, blatantly does not know me at all, and guessed completely wrong? Obviously I am mindlessly searching the internet craving nothing but coffee, not texting a boy..... Oh, man how badly I want coffee... wait, now that I think about it... if I did have a boyfriend on campus (haha), I would probably text him to bring me coffee right now.... crap... random dude was kind of making sense there for a minute. Well, just call me a girl. I'll do anything for café.

Little girls are running around the gym with their phones in the air complaining that, "there is no bars in here"... I think I can rest assured that my girliness and grammar are kept under wraps.... but I really do want coffee.

Para variar...

I have been coexisting with a spider for the past two weeks. Ha! Take that! The little shit has been chilling out in my bathroom, just waiting for me to freak out and kill it or put it outside. But no! I remain strong. I think after that one time in Hawai'i when I was forced to use a porta-potty and a GIANT fist-sized mammal spider fell out of the toilet paper dispenser, I have become immune to arachnophobia. Anyway, the spider lives on, and every day I make sure it's in the same place because otherwise I will probably freak out. I don't mind it where I can keep an eye on it, but once it's on the move, we are friends no longer. Friends close, enemies closer.

Afterthought... I said hello to the referee for the volleyball tournament, and asked him how he was doing. He said "not too shabby," and then I walked away for a minute. When I came back he said, "for having gone to the Tiki Bar opening last night". Three cheers for a hungover referee at a pre-teen girls' volleyball tournament. And we always wondered why refs make such bad calls...

Notes to Self

2010-04-14T14:02:00.000-07:00

Note to self: don't cook with habañeros and then take contacts out. You know how it feels when you scrape your knee falling off of your bike, and then you put that spray antiseptic on it? Yeah, that's how my eyes feel. It looks like I've been crying for hours, which is ridiculous because we know I do not cry (unless I'm watching Airbud of course). =)

Note to self numero dos: too much caffeine is NOT a good choice. I felt like I was having a heart attack while I was looking at applications for the gym. I seriously questioned if my heart could stop due to a bajillion cups of maté. Is that even possible? Caffeine overdose? I don't want to know.

Note to self três (aside from learn Portuguese): Never sign up for another Islamic history class again, EVER. What a terrible life choice. I have a fifteen page paper due the day before I am going to receive an eight page take home paper for the same class. Poppycock.

Final note to self: Figure out how to use the word poppycock more often (and correctly) in everyday conversations.

Schooled by old dudes

2010-04-13T12:30:00.000-07:00

I forgot how seriously intense I get when I play sports. This past weekend my rec. soccer team had a game against a team called, "Old School Ballers". Now, you would think a young, smart team like mine would be able to handle a couple of old farts, wouldn't you? Wrong. We got creamed. Seriously, the old men rocked us. We scored one goal amidst their nine or so. Uff.

And to top all of that off, I was a freaking anger management case. I wanted to body check them straight into the dirt that was meant to be our field. I was all over the place trying to, at the very least, frustrate them. Mind you, this is a co-ed adult league, and I'm pretty sure I was the youngest girl there (aside from Mo, who is hardly older than me technically, but with an acutal job and life, etc.). I had no real reason to go crazy, but I couldn't help it. Old dudes were weaving around our defense like fancy dogs weave around those Pedigree obstacle courses, and I just wanted to stop them. No one likes a prim poodle anyway. Everyone likes the goofy mutts, right?... maybe I am taking this metaphor too far.

Anyway, despite getting destroyed and releasing enough anger to fuel a rocket, I had a blast playing soccer. It was a beautiful day, and it made me feel like summer and freedom from school were right around the corner. Oh, the glory of distraction.

Back to those papers now.

Spain, Pakistan and Daylight

2010-04-08T15:37:00.000-07:00

I officially got accepted to my program in Madrid! Excellent! Now I have loads of paperwork to get done by the end of next week, but I don't even mind... I am SO pumped. I am going to be taking translation, Spain spanish, and photography (it's my last requirement!). Supurb.

That was background information. Now I'm getting to the actual story. I find it amusing.

So, I'm looking up apartments in the city when I email a few options just to get a feel for them. One guy emails me back and seems interested. I'm thinking, great! I already have an option, and then I see a youtube link at the bottom of his email. Hmm, what could that be I think to myself... well, I have an inkling because he did tell me he was a drummer. Could I potentially be living with a Spanish rock band!?!? The excitement grows!

I click the link. I let it load. The red bar is full, so I let it play, excited....

Bluegrass. I see bluegrass. Seriously? A Spanish bluegrass band? I live in southern Maryland, and I don't even listen to bluegrass. In fact, it's amazing that I know what it is at all. In all of my Spanish experiences, never have I come across something like this. I'm almost tempted to jump at the opportunity just so I can say I lived with a bluegrass band in Madrid. Please tell me I'm not the only person who finds that hilarious.

In other news, I watched this movie the other night. The director showed up at my school to play it, and I almost wished she hadn't because she told us the truth about the story it was based on (I felt gypped by the drama of Hollywood... though I'm glad the real story was happier than the movie version). It is called Ramchand Pakistani, and it is about a young boy and his father, two "untouchables" who accidentally cross over the India/Pakistan border. They get sent to an Indian prison, and the boy essentially grows up among other men who have done the same. It's a critique on the way border control between these two countries is handled, and according to the director the film is both exaggerated and toned down.

Anyway, I almost started crying, and I don't do that in movies (not including My Best Friend's Wedding or Airbud. those are the only two cinematic exceptions... shut up, Airbud is emotional, and I had just gotten a dog). Point being, it was extremely well done, and parts of it were really hilarious. The boys who played Ramchand rocked it. It also, like most of the movies I have grown to love, makes you look at your own life and realize just how good you have it. It makes me wish I didn't complain so freaking much. Want some cheese with that Chilean whine?

Oh yeah, the days are getting longer! I want to see THIS short film before I go to the Tomatina. And, I am addicted to THIS song; I'm so annoyed I cannot buy Chico Trujillo music here.

Warm Nights

2010-04-06T21:04:00.000-07:00

I forgot how warm nights put me in this mood. The heat makes me shiver as if it were a bitter cold, but somehow it feels amazing. Nights like these remind me what it is I love about life. I see the faces of the people I have met on summer nights when we had nothing to do but adapt our eyes to the light of the stars. Memories that now seem like dreams run up and down my goosebumped arms as I walk at night seeing the world in dark blues. Laying in the grass with my eyes closed is like an invitation to replay night swims in Hawai'i, walking with friends in Spanish streets, dancing in a Chilean field with people I have just met, getting lost in England.... living.

Sometimes I just get in these moods when it seems as though everything is beautiful. Life is so much more than we let it be. Let the night remind you.

Love always beats hate

2010-04-03T08:33:00.000-07:00

I do not want to be angry, nor do I want to edit my paper. Therefore, logically, I am going to write about something I love...

Football. Mhmm, mmm, football.

Raul Albiol is not just beautiful, he is

amazing. He is so amazing in fact that I forgive him for making the switch from Valencia to Real Madrid. We're going to ignore that lack of judgement for a minute.

Albiol is 24, has two daughters, and made a huge comback after suffering a car accident six years ago. I just read an article at FIFA.com about the defender, and i'm pretty sure I fell in love when he was quoted about South Africa saying;

“We had a lovely experience in South Africa. It’s just a shame we only saw a couple of animals on our safari!”... “We’ve noticed just how excited the South Africans are about the start of their World Cup. And it’s our duty to put on a good show for them.”

Excuse me, but is that not the sweetest thing you have ever heard a footballer say? The answer is yes...... Did I mention that his number is 2? Two just so happens to be my lucky number. Uh oh. =)

On another Spanish note, I'm going to pretend that dear Cesc doesn't play for Arsenal, and that he was secretly on Barcelona's side last week.

Maybe if he had stayed with the league of his youth, Barça, he would not have broken his leg and missed out on the rest of the UEFA Champions League. Fortunately, Spain fans, we can rest easy knowing that he will still be playing in the cup. My heart can start beating again.

[I know Ronaldo doesn't play for Man U. anymore, but just look at that face!]

And, the big finale!!!!! CHELSEA BEAT MANCHESTER UNITED!! Yessssss!

Now, normally I don't really enjoy English football, but they steal all of the good international players. I am forced to pay attention. Chelsea beating Manchester United, the one and only team I hate more than Real Madrid, is beyond FANTASTIC! Thank you Chelsea. Okay, time for Barça to make the magic happen in UEFA.

Fabulous.

Ten represent 2,000

2010-04-03T06:19:00.000-07:00

Last night/1am this morning while I lay in bed staring at the pictures on my wall, I promised myself I would not get angry until today. When Tito el Bambino (my alarm) woke me up singing about love, its magic, and whatnot, I remembered my promise. I am angry... which is a shame because I really love that song.

For the past two weeks I have been telling people about the fundraiser I was throwing at the Door. I put up posters, talked to my classes, made a stupid facebook event, and ranted about it to anyone who was within earshot. For a month I have been trying to make this thing work despite miscommunication with the people at the bar, rescheduling issues, putting in my own funds, and people making and breaking promises to help out. I understand that the frisbee team had a tournament rescheduled for this weekend, even though that did not stop Sam, the captain, from staying and helping out. I understand that Sunday is Easter, but more than half of the students here live in Maryland anyway. I understand that a fundraiser involves giving up some money, but most college kids spend too much money on alcohol and drugs anyway. All I asked was two dollars. Sacrifice a beer for crying out loud.

I guess I should specify what happened. Yes, we made $340. Yes, the raffle was a success. However, out of all the people who showed up to the bar, a total of around ten, I shit you not, TEN St. Mary's students showed up... I live with half of those ten and another one of them was actually Chilean. Seriously? It is not even the fact that I had people come up to me and say, "Kait, don't worry, I'm totally coming on friday", and then they did not. It is the mere fact that out of 2,000 students, a little over a quarter of whom are 21 or have a fake ID (don't even lie), TEN showed up to a bar that is ten minutes away. It's impossible for me to express my disappointment.

What's worse is that St. Mary's students constantly judge the townies who go to the bar, shop at Walmart, and eat at Five Guys, but if it wasn't for them, I would have made around $20. Many of them donated well beyond the asking price, and all but one extremely drunk dude did not care when the luck of the draw left them with no reward.

And for now... that is the end of my rant. I'm sitting at work, watching students who did not go home for Easter use the gym. If only they knew what I was thinking...

Funds to be Raised!!!

2010-03-24T18:39:00.000-07:00

It is finally going down! The fundraiser for Chile is FINALLY happening at our local bar. I am pumped beyond belief.

Alright, so the guy I'm in contact with who works there said the date should be okay, but I am going to take that as it is okay. It has almost been a month since I originally asked, so this is happening whether anyone else likes it or not. Ha! I will triumph!

All of the money is going to Un Techo Para Chile, in order to build more houses before the winter comes. According it-chuiko.com, over two million people were left without homes after the 8.8 earthquake, and many Chileans are facing major damages. NOW is the time to help!

Moments like this overwhelm me cheesy delight. People can be so generous.

On a side note. I am working at the gym right now, and no one is here.... I am blasting music and dancing around while I close up. The secret life of an American gym manager. Terribly exciting, isn't it?

Personal mind control failure

2010-03-21T18:53:00.000-07:00

Joder. Puta la weaaa. Shit. I am clearly incapable of doing work. This is just going to create a situation in which I will be exhausted tomorrow... all for the sake of chatting on MSN for the first time in what? a week? Goodness, do I ever have an addictive nature. I can't help it though! If I can't see the people, I sure as hell am going to talk to them as much as I can! Right?

Chucha. This is ridiculous. It makes no sense. I spent an entire week doing nothing, aside from freezing myself to death in a failed attempt to camp (including a broken car, snow, rain, hillbilly kareoke [how on earth do you spell that?], and a NJ ending complete with adults questioning my plans for the future), and I still cannot get myself to focus. Crap. Achooooo. What has gotten into me!?

I blame my family. Though that is the easy way out, that's not why I'm doing it. I am blaming my family because they always instilled in me the theory that life is about the experiences. If you think about it, that makes my studies kind of contradictory to what they have taught me my whole life. Ojo. Studying is something I have PLENTY of experience doing, but real life experiences? Now, those I have fewer of. Time to get cracking don't you think?

So, there it is. My brain won't stop thinking about distant beaches and funky accents until these essays are long gone, and I am in fact sitting on one of those beaches listening to a fun accent. Aren't I just in a heep of trouble??

La Wea Equis

2010-03-11T14:09:00.000-08:00

If you know me, you know of my love for Queen. My mom must have thought she raised a crazy person because I was hooked on their music from the moment I heard "Somebody to Love"... which must have been at the age of twelve or so. While I put on, "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You" by Zeppelin every time I'm angry (which is like three dyas a year), I play Queen the other 362.

Enjoy a little Queen for me today. =) We all need a little break from those midterms.

Oh! And another thing. Why is it that everytime you walk into a girl's bathroom stall it's like logging onto Twitter or reading one of those Post Secret books... or even seeing facebook statuses? The other day I saw someone write, "not all who wander are lost", and then they wrote -Plato after it... I'm assuming they aren't aware that JRR Tolkein said that rather than an ancient philosopher? I cannot believe I am furthering a discussion written on the door of a library bathroom stall.

Aprovecha! Es un día lindo. =)

Sun always shines when you're in your room writing a paper

2010-03-09T06:51:00.000-08:00

I finally spoke to my host family in Viña. I saw their beautiful, unharmed faces in their relatively damage free home through the magic of Skype. This, along with the RAE Diccionario de la lengua española, a soccer ball shaped cake, and a bottle of pisco, was my birthday surprise. I could not have asked for anything more amazing... oh yeah, aside from the excellent weather we are having this week. Life, for the moment is carefree and wonderful.

Quick moment.

I have an exam tomorrow on Ancient Greece. If you could hear me now, you would recognize a series of groaning sounds filled with despair that characterize the anticipation of something I am not prepared for. Speaking of things I'm not prepared for, I have a seven page paper on the changes the Caliphate has seen in Sunni and Shi'i history. Supurb. I have three pages written thus far.

I'm going to focus on the positives of this situation. Search, and you too will see that I am not as screwed as you originally thought. Aha! See, at least I know what a Caliphate is. That's a good start. Also, it is only ten in the morning, which is promising (despite the fact that I originially intended to wake up at six... it is so inconvenient when I turn my alarm off in my sleep). Mmm, what else? I don't have to use a real lamp because the sun is coming through the window... I have plenty of maté to keep me awake until my exam tomorrow morning... things could be worse.

Oh, I guess I should get back to writing this paper, otherwise I won't be able to count that ten in the morning bit as one of my positive points... I'll leave you with a song to lift any paper writing spirits you may have as well. =)

Tragedia

2010-02-27T07:12:00.000-08:00

My roommate, Sheena, and I had a series of very deep discussions last night. Neither of us could sleep, and the indescribable frustration that we felt as a result of it led us to discussing everything from death (odd midnight conversation, I know) to the universe; the kind of topics that hurt your brain after a while.

I woke up in a hurry to get to work. I ate some instant oatmeal and went on my way, only to find that people alllllways seem to forget that the gym doesn't open until noon on Saturdays. I hate kicking people out, especially when they act like it is entirely my fault that they can't play basketball inside at ten in the morning. It's 40 degrees outside! Put on a sweatshirt and leave me alone!

Then, I see that an 8.8 sized earthquake hit Concepción, Chile this morning! The storm seems to be moving towards Hawai'i, where my brother and sister-in-law live, and Rapa Nui is not looking too safe either; they've actually evacuated it. How is it that such overwhelming news comes when the mood is just... wrong? Not too much gets me down, but there's not much of a spring in my step this windy AM. I'm terrified for my brother and my chilean family and friends.

Celebrations

2010-02-26T13:12:00.000-08:00

Today is Muhammad's brithday. Tomorrow is my dear friend Moises' birthday, and yes, I only just now realized the religious theme. Afterwards I will celebrate Adam (sheesh, there it is again), Bumble, and Lori's birthdays as well. My birthday then falls on the fifth of March.

My birthday witnesses the births of Eva Mendes, the guitarrist from the Red Hot Chili Peppers (a band which I personally believe is a bit overrated), King Henry II, and Tokyo Sexwale; the current Minister of Human Settlements in South Africa, and the once imprisoned anti-apartheid polititian. How not too exciting is that? So, okay, Tokyo Sexwale does have a cool name, and he did some sweet things. But when you compare it to the 6th, my day has nothing. Check it:

On March 6th Shaquille O'Neal was born. I don't care what basketball team you are a fan of, Shaq is awesome. He literally inspires awe with his size and skills. Eddie Fontaine, Gabriel García Márquez, Michelangelo, and Fabrizio Copano (my favorite Chilean comedian, who I swear I will only mention this one last time so as not to seem too enamored) were also born on this day. Uh, Michelangelo? That trumps King Henry any day in my book.

What the hell? Clearly, March 5th got gypped. Tokyo Sexwale and I should appeal being honorary March 6th babies.

Fun Facts:

In Chile, birthday kids are alotted three wishes instead of one. Lucky ducks.

In Cuba, according to my Spanish prof, parents were only allowed to give their children one present; a doll or a truck. Fun fun.

Zeena are paper decorations that Egyptians string up around the house for their birthday celebrations that sport TWO birthday cakes. Darn, aren't we deprived.

Legalize It

2010-02-19T21:00:00.001-08:00

Once you have told more than five people about something you learned in a history class that starts at 9am, you have reached a certain level of nerdiness. I have surpassed said nerdiness. It cannot be helped.

Background information is necessary here. I took three years of Latin in high school and loved every minute of it because of my adorable and enthusiastic teacher. I got all into the mythology and history attached to the Romans, and soon I was the only 16 year old around interested in the ancients. Thus, I already knew about a good deal of ancient traditions when I started taking my Ancient Greece history class this semester. Yes. Yes, indeed, I have always been aware of the homoeroticism of the old world. Somehow I still found what I learned today fascinating. I have told just about everyone of my classroom discoveries today. =)

Spartans, you know the big warriors who eat beans with blood, throw unhealthy babies over mountainsides, and put their sons in the wilderness to measure their survival abilities? All that virile crap? Yeah, those Spartans believed that homosexual relationships between the warriors, cemented the bond. Okay, not toooo surprising I guess. What is odd is that sometimes these men got so close to their masculine friends that they shaved the heads of the women they married. Yikes. Can you imagine someone saying to his wife today, "you're going to need to get rid of those luscious locks, hun... I need something a little more manly"? Clearly this is a sign that gay marriage should have been legalized ages ago. Stop being homophobic people. You have had plenty of time to adjust. Thousands of years, really.

I learned a slew of other fun things today too, but I don't like to overdo the enthusiasm.

"We like food, wine and partying"

2010-02-15T21:54:00.000-08:00

We have finally gotten back into a routine. On one hand I am thrilled because I get to go to class rather than watch the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy in one sitting solely because I have nothing else to do while my car is burried underneath feet of snow (Yeah, I did it). At the same time, all I have to look forward to now is the sometimes surprisingly interesting class topics and weekends, obviously. (Okay, fortunately this will change when I can get my car out to go see Mo. Yay!)

Point made. Moving on.

Today in my Diáspora Africana class I learned that the word "cafre", that Puerto Ricans use to describe someone lazy, barbaric, or lower class, comes from a word that sounds very familiar, "kaffir". The Arabs (among others... this was just the example we talked about) used this word, which is incredibly offensive, to talk about "black" Africans... I specify here because the hierarchal system of race in history has bizarre definitions and contradicting beliefs... most likely because it's a stupid system in the first place. Anyway. In Cuba, as in many other countries, people speak of "mejorar la raza" or "bettering the race". Many people, even black and mestizo people, sadly believe that the whiter your family is, the better. In Chile people (not everyone) say "indio" in reference to someone lazy or dirty. Indio, you know, as in indígena? AKA, a large part of the Chilean population. How fucked up is all that?

These are things you learn once you get into a class schedule again.

Random unrelated notes for the day:

- Studying languages, at least in my experience, creates a strange appreciation for the use of all words. This, for now, is going to be my excuse for cursing more than I should. See; tonight's intramural volleyball game in which I cursed profusely after sucking terribly.

- I felt so bad for Canada after it's little Olympic torch lighting malfunction, but I was definitely laughing the whole time it happened. Oh, Canada.

- A Peruvian athlete in the winter olympics, Roberto Carcelén, was quoted in reference to his countrymen, saying, "We kind of like living life in a good way. With sports we're not like other cultures. We like food, wine and partying". How freaking hilarious is that? That is exactly what I was thinking when I saw only three Chilean athletes. Love them.

- I have loved Apolo Anton Ohno from the moment I heard his name. Most bad ass name ever.

- 114 Days until the World Cup!

- I talked to my friend Miguel from Spain for pretty much all of Thursday, and I fell in love (for the millionth time) with the way people think in one language, and then translate it into another. We would never say bicycling is good for one's skeleton, but he sure does. =)

- Thank you Mo for introducing me to this version of La Vie en Rose, which is one of the reasons that my juvenile biases against the French language have died.

How many ways can you say "I love you"?

2010-02-11T20:51:00.000-08:00

Oh, Valentine's Day, how you fill many a single girl's heart with bitterness. How you build them up with hope, then tear them down with cheesy movies and chocolates shaped like hearts. Alas, you have failed once again, for this year, as with every other, this single lady doesn't give a shit.

Every year I wish my closest friends a Happy Valentine's Day, I eat cookies that are decorated pink and red, I give everyone an enormous hug, and I pity every person who takes it too seriously. If you think about it, February 14th is one of many days that could be celebrated for a martyr named Valentine. I'm not even catholic, so why should I make a big deal out of two martyrs?

Apparently in Romania (according to wikipedia), they celebrate Dragobete on the 24th of February. It is essentially a day for lovers, with "drag" meaning dear. However, the Romanians, so I've read, also celebrate Valentine's Day. It seems as though the Romanians have a lot of love to share. I dig it. Also, I enjoy that drag means dear... just saying.

In many Latin American countries they refer to Valentine's Day as "el Día del Amor y la Amistad". I like this alternative because then people who are not in love cannot complain about the day. They can focus on the love of friendship rather than the passionate, red frilly aspect. How very thoughtful my drag latin americans.

Wikipedia, since I believe in giving the source credit... regardless of how potentially incorrect it may be... explains that there are other great things associated with V-day. Sailor's Valentines, for example, are cute little presents that the boys brought home for their ladies. Antivalentinism is a legitimate term for the bitter hatred of (or simple disagreement with) the day. In South Korea they celebrate "Black Day" on the 14th of April for all those singles out there. You see, Black Day is the opposite of "White Day", which is their Valentine's Day I suppose. Clearly, there is a crazy hype for a day dedicated to love.

I personally feel like I have a lot of love for a lot of people a lot of the time, so Valentine's Day seems very similar to most of my days. However, I accept that sometimes people just need to know that they are loved, and for that reason I say, why the hell not. Just, don't get all worked up about it. I bet you if he didn't propose on Valentine's Day, the day he does propose will be just as special, if not more. I've always found that the unexpected is a thousand times more exciting anyway. Like I've said before, the summer is way more romantic, so let it go.

Os quiero. :*

Sun

2010-02-04T12:30:00.000-08:00

I hear that there will be anywhere between 16 and 24 inches of snow, starting tomorrow at ten in the morning. Uuuuugh. If that's not a tragedy than I don't know what is. A lot, and I mean A LOT of my friends will disagree with me on this point, but I know the truth. Snow blows.

Let me just tell you why winter is not a wonderland. It is a simple matter of comparisons, because once someone looks at the beauty of summer in contrast to the bitter cold of winter, there's no competition. Seriously, think about it.

Everything is colorful. Even in places where the heat is so intense that the ground burns. The golden colors that blanket the desert and the purple/green plants that are scattered around it make for a gorgeous landscape. Granted, occasssionalllly there is a snow capped mountain range that indeed is beautiful, but at a distance. You don't have to be in that landscape. Oh no, far too cold. Otherwise, everything is a boring white and brown. I could just look at a piece of freaking paper if I was craving some white in my life.

Everyone looks better with a bit of sun on their cheeks. Don't deny it. You may use sunscreen, but you still like the healthy way you look when you've been out in the sun all day. Conversely, in the winter, at least in my case, skin is a horrid combination of olive and straight up pale. It makes me shiver just thinking about it.

All of the best festivals and parties happen in the summer. For example, while I was in Spain one summer I went to a MASSIVE party on the beach called the Romeria. There had to have been thousands of people on this beach, and just walking down it I met more people than I realized could fit on one strip of sand. In Chile they have a New Years party in the summer that involves staying out on the beach into the late hours of the morning, watching fireworks, and drinking yourself into an oblivion with friends. Now, who can tell me when that happens in the winter?

Lastly, and most importantly, it's warm. You can be outside, in the beautiful, beautiful, b e a utiful fresh air. Mmm. The nights are the perfect kind of warm, the stars are watchable without freezing your ass off, and the ocean is approachable, meaning, you can go in it and not just look at it. Man, I love just thinking about this.

Eh, different strokes for different folks, but in the end I still say summer wins it all.

People

2010-02-02T14:01:00.000-08:00

There is nothing more beautiful than the world, the people in it, and the ways in which they celebrate life.

Sometimes I just get into these moods where I love everyone.

Chao

2010-02-01T11:28:00.000-08:00

Every time I say goodbye I feel like I'm saying sorry. I'm sorry for leaving you. I'm sorry for not knowing when I will be back. I'm sorry for the distance this time apart will create for us. I'm sorry.

Goodbye sucks the hope out of the future. It does not say, "I will see you again soon", nor does it give thanks to the person who deserves it. Goodbyes scare me, so I always end up replacing them with an "I love you". Everyone should know that someone loves them, especially when the future is uncertain. I'm boycotting goodbye.

Boom Goes the Marshmallow

2010-01-28T11:17:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, my first real one back on campus, was the first slew of parties of the semester. Though I work on Saturday mornings before the sun comes up, I can't help going out... even if just to say hello. The funny thing about this is that I am the one legitimately sober person in a sea of druken college students. Since this past friday's theme was something along the lines of "staying fresh" everyone was dressed up in ridiculous 80's-90's garb and dancing around like complete crazies. This is what happens when you live in the states.

Saturday was more fun for me because I didn't have to worry about waking up early the next day. A themeless night led to more insanity because more people were willing to go out dressed normally, rather than like our parents in their hay day. I was also lucky enough to prep the party fun by going to a bonfire with Mo and some of her co-workers. We lit the MASSIVE, and I really do mean MASSIVE, bonfire with gasoline and left over smore marshmallows. Jared and Jay would have been pleased.

Post mallow explosions, we headed back to campus with Sam, the Jersey guy who lives in Mo's house with her and Jason (from MD). It was a pretty chill, typical, St. Mary's night when all of a sudden the boy's house became the most popular spot around. The rooms were full of people dancing to that stuff I forgot existed, rap music. As I was about to leave, Jeremy my Aussie sailor friend who I tutored in Italian, walked through the door, and began a long conversation with me. I ended up staying for another two hours talking, and much to my suprise, meeting some new people. I thought I had met everyone there was to know at this school! What do you know!

During the week I revert back to work mode. Classes and the ARC (the gym I manage at) keep me busy. Maybe I'll have some good work stories soon. Ha.

Transition

2010-01-26T11:15:00.000-08:00

The semester has started, and yet somehow I still feel like I'm just visiting. It's bizarre how I have seen most of the people I know, have gone to all the typical St. Marys places, and have already gotten back into the swing of real classes... well, I have started taking real classes anyway. Parties have started up again, and everyone has already started gossiping. What now?

I love these people, I really do. When my friends graduate this semester, part of my connection to this campus will be hollow. They make my time here beyond words. BUT, and yes, this is a big but... I find myself distracted, distraught, restless, and confused. I am having trouble focusing while I'm doing work for classes, and my mind wanders off to not too long ago when I was walking the streets of Valparaíso with friends and sunshine. How could I know I would ever grow so attached to a place when through out my whole life the goal has been to find somewhere else? When will I want to stay stationary?

Everything reminds me of something from last semester. When am I going to want to be a part of this semester?

Chilean State of Mind

2010-01-21T12:02:00.000-08:00

Ten reasons why I miss Chile, in no particular order:

1. Dancing my ass off for multiple hours on a weekday night. No strings attached.

2. Speaking Spanish ALL the time, and in the most amusing accent I have ever heard.

3. Meeting new people every day. It was impossible not to meet new people in Valpo.

4. Hearing latin music everywhere and often... without my housemates telling me that I'm the only one who likes it.

5. Warmth.

6. I'm just going to say it.... latin men.

7. The feeling that life is going to go on happily and forever in this beautiful city. "Como si la vida fuera a durar por siempre".

8. My chilean family. Family barbeques. Family lunches. Family talks. Family viewings of terrible tv shows. I really miss my Chilean family.

9. Public Transportation. Man, I freaking love not having to drive places.

10. The nicest people in the world. I can never thank them enough for making me feel at home.

Sorry, I was having a bit of a Chile withdrawal spurt. It's hard to say goodbye to a new home.

Ulcers Out the Wazoo

2010-01-19T11:30:00.000-08:00

If I fully understood the concept of an ulcer, I probably would not be saying this. However, I think I almost just gave myself one. Allow me to explain;

My class schedule received the short end of the stick this semester due to shitty registration conditions while in Chile. I had been in the south on the one big trip I had planned the entire time I was abroad when registration occurred. So today I needed to seriously fix this problem by sending out a boat load of emails. My advisor explained to me that the one class I must take in order to write my big senior project was NOT available.

Not okay.

I frantically searched my school website for a way to fix the situation. An hour later, after still finding no solution, my professor emailed me again explaining that I could in fact take the class. Seriously, man! I had almost begun to think I was screwed for all eternity. Instead, now I have a total of five classes, all on monday, wednesday, and friday. Not to mention that I manage at the gym on wednesdays. Therefore my ENTIRE wednesday is completely scheduled to the point where I will probably just be anorexic those days against my will. Such is life.

On a brighter note, I love seeing these people again. =)

Portuguese Presence

2010-01-12T23:33:00.000-08:00

While I was in Valparaíso there was a three day drum festival. On the first night of the festival I went to a massive concert in a place called La Caleta Membrillo, which is essentially an old fish market. There I randomly met Max, a twenty two year old math student and teacher.

The Max Saga is a long one that I am not going to retell for the time being. The important piece of background information that I need to give on him is that we had a good eight hour conversation one day, and his love of scary movies was discussed at length. Because the only time a movie has really terrified me was when I saw Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory at the age of four, he finds it a challenge to suggest a movie that will truly frighten me. So far no go, but he did show me this youtube video that gave me a few chills before falling asleep.

Check this video out. I'll explain it just a bit.

So, three friends are driving around Portugal, but they are totally getting lost. They laugh about it, and the driver jokes that the worst thing that could happen is the car running out of gas. As they drive, they near a woman who is walking alone on the side of the street, a street in the middle of nowhere Portugal... at night. They let her get in the car, and she asks them to take her up just a little bit further on the road.

I won't say how it ends, but you will have to translate the last line because it's terribly important. You should get the gist otherwise if you speak any tidbit of spanish or portuguese, french, italian... you'll get an idea.

I actually have to sleep now so I can drive down to school tomorrow. I will just hope I dream about my fond memories of la Caleta instead of creepy chicks on the side of the road. I think I'll manage.

Jimmy Page Cannot be Racist

2010-01-11T22:36:00.000-08:00

A few things have been decided today, a day full of mindless shopping at Target and unconditional admiring of Anthony Bourdain's new No Reservations episode in Panamá. The two very different activities somehow sparked a mudslide of thoughts... or at least a dirty little puddle full.

The guitar is [insert religious figure]'s gift to the world.

Think about it. Rock and Roll. Jazz. Crappy Pop Music. Blues. Blues' less attractive brother, Country. Flamenco. Sing Songy Soloists. Did I mention Rock and Roll? They all utilize the guitar, and it is wonderful. Just think about the songs that break your heart they are so beautiful, like "Going to California" by Led Zeppelin. The guitar is essentially the key to that song. Okay, granted, the mandolin plays an important role as well, but I am going to add stringy, guitar-like instruments to the gift to the world theory as well. Just check out "Boy With a Coin" by Iron and Wine. Beautiful. The hand clapping also makes this song badass, but that is a whole different story for me. =) Mind you, all of this is the opinion of a instrumentless chick who just likes to listen.

Racism makes zero sense.

Seriously though. I know it stems from very old prejudices and ancient rich assholes who thought they owned the world and therefore, could do or say whatever they wanted. HOWEVER, it is ridiculous. The other day for example, my own grandmother called me a Mexican. Um. She should know my nationality considering I am the product of her daughter. Not to mention, speaking Spanish, more properly referred to as Castilian if we want to get formal, could link me to 21 different nationalities... none of which I even have. I've never even been to Mexico.

Sadly, my grandma is not the first person to have called me mexican or who has told me to stop speaking mexican (even writing those two words one after the other feels weird). Ignorance or straight up indifference plague the United States along with many other countries. That crap has got to stop.

-By the way, I'm not offended that she called me a mexican. That would be way cooler than being a boring mutt I bet. The point was that Spanish doesn't always equate Mexico. That's the offensive part.-

Being a Borders member will eventually bankrupt me.

It is absurd that the thing I missed most while in Chile was Borders. I kid you not, I had legitimate stints in which I was furious I could not find a bookstore that would take coupons. Books are painfully expensive there, and I wanted nothing more than to wander for hours along the neatly organized aisles with the goal of limiting myself to buying just one leafy piece of heaven. Alas, I am far too stingy to buy a paperback for more than fifteen dollars, and therefore I found myself in Borders withdrawal. Now I find myself buying two books and justifying it with the fact that the same price would only buy one down in dear Chile. Pity. I liked living in a house.

Don't ask me how any of these things were connected to each other, Target, or Anthony Bourdain; he who embodies all that I want in life (meaning, I want his life and I want to be him/more realistically, be his sidekick).

Also, Dubstep is fascinating. In Chile lots of discos played it, but according to my dubstep DJing brother, it is not nearly as popular here. Somehow I'm not surprised...

[Yeah, this one I thought of because it just popped up in my iTunes, making it probably the least random thing discussed this evening.]

My Final Thoughts Before Unconscious Dreams

2010-01-11T01:43:00.000-08:00

The best things happen when they are least expected.

Everything is an experience.

"The One" is a human illusion, "making love" is an animal instinct, but regardless, hope keeps you thinking otherwise.

Football, meaning real football, is the world's most amazing sport.

People make life worth living. I may not have a religion, but I have faith in people.

Port cities are magical.

Never stop searching. Never stand still. Never settle.

Time is just another measurement.

My family gets larger every day. The more people I meet, the more brothers I have.

Language is the most beautiful art form. It is music, it is images, it is creation.

It is much easier to laugh than it is to cry.

The beauty of the ocean and the earth are matched not even by our dreams.

I love more than I breathe.

Gracias a la Vida

Te Quiero, Español

2010-01-09T15:27:00.000-08:00

Once upon a -not so long ago- time, a girl was failing her sophomore Spanish class. She hated it with a fuerte passion, but she was determined to pass. Her parents had promised her a trip to Costa Rica if she managed an A by the end of the academic year... mostly because they assumed it would be impossible. Alas, nothing is impossible when a free trip is involved, and the girl worked her ass off in and beyond class in order to score that A. Her badass, straight off the plane from Spain, 20 something year old professor had helped her see the logic behind what had before seemed an obnoxiously inconsistent language. She was prepared for an honors Spanish class and her trip to Costa Rica by the end of the year.

Her parents were not too terribly upset by the trip they had to make to the beautiful country, and she was beyond ecstatic for her first international trip since Denmark two years before. The first stop in a remote location was a fabulous transition to the new country, and by the time they reached Guanacaste, the girl had already fallen in love with Costa Rica.

They stayed for five days in a fancy resort that ran day trips for scuba diving and other adventure sports, and when they weren't out wandering the jungle, they were simply relaxing in the gorgeous hotel. The girl, despite having zero confidence in her Spanish level, made friends with fellow visitors and Costa Rican hotel workers alike. She found that the staff knew obscene amounts of languages, had been to various places around the world, and had met the most fascinating people. She also found that one of the entertainment staff members in particular had his eye on her. Being a picky person, she was surprised to find that her eye met his with the same interest.

They met the first night when he was bringing vacationers onstage to learn latin dance moves; she had reluctantly followed him to the front row. The next day he pleaded with her and a new friend she had made in the hotel to take part in that night's actual show. Apparently they were low on staff members. The girls agreed and spent the night backstage while the girl in question and the Costa Rican named Esteban flirted innocently in the dark of the stage wings. At the end of the show he asked her to go to the disco, and though she thought it was hilarious that he was inviting a sixteen year old to a disco (later to be discovered as a discoteca, or club, obviously), she said yes; spending the night dancing to unknown latin tunes.

The next day as she thought about the boy named Esteban by the side of the pool, she was invited to play volleyball in said pool. She figured, "why the hell not", and played for a while with a group of college kids on vacation together. As members filtered out of the game, new players joined in without needing to ask, and before she knew it, Esteban was jumping into the water to take a place beside her. He winked as he spiked the ball over the net and scored for her team. The game went on until just the two of them remained, so they played together for who knows how long until it started to rain. It rains SO much in Costa Rica.

They stayed in the pool laughing and doing the perfect amount of nothing until the rain stopped and an older couple came over to play volleyball with them. The sweet Costa Rican woman smiled at the girl, told her that rainbows mean good luck, and then she sent the ball straight into the net. She giggled, slightly embarrassed, looked at the boy and girl, and then asked the boy why he would not give the girl a kiss. The girl's heart leapt as she looked over to see his response, but he only smiled and said, "later".

That night, the girl's last in the hotel, the two of them talked for hours with the sound of a live band playing in the background. At midnight, the hour that she promised her parents she would return to the room, he took her hand and led her in that direction. Though he was by no means supposed to walk a guest back to her room, he took the chance. As they hugged for what they imagined would be the last time, he leaned in for the girl's first kiss. She blushed and promised to meet him early in the morning before she left the place for good, and they parted with the morning in their thoughts.

A perfect ending to this story cannot be written, for it did not pass. The girl awoke too late, and missed the boy before she left. She and her parents took off to a beach town called Jaco after they had packed and checked out as if they had never been there at all. Jaco was nowhere near as beautiful as Guanacaste had been.

Years later, Esteban became a minute long memory, and each new first kiss outdid the one before. Yet still, no one understood her new found love for Spanish, but I think that's just because no one knows what I went through. How could I not have fallen just a little for the spanish speaker that whispered the unknown into my untrained ear? I was hooked. Costa Rica, and that boy, and those people made me fall in love with my first real true love; Spanish.

Dudes on the Not-So-Suave Side of Things

2010-01-07T22:56:00.000-08:00

I spent the whole day with three twenty something year old boys. Granted, two of them are my best friends, and I deal with them all the time. However, when you throw one more into the mix, it really just becomes a male bonding experience. Often my feminine presence was forgotten amidst check-out-that-ass comments and weak-man-needs-a-tampon jokes. Though I have gotten used to these insensitive statements over the years, I did find myself getting a little fed up today. Overexposure perhaps.

We were watching the football game when one of them was trying to flip a Corona so that the lime would float to the bottom (I realize the physics behind what I said is wrong. You know what I'm talking about though). Instead of suavely doing so, he sprayed precious mexican liquid gold (in their opinion) across the room. Despite the fact that it was not my house, I told the cock up to -at the very least- clean the picture frame that he drenched in beer. He got up to do so, but not without telling me to stop "crying" about everything as a means of defending his wounded rep. Oh, no. I think not.

The left hands of the other two boys busied themselves with covering their gasping mouths. They knew he was not going to get away with a comment like that, especially since none of them have ever seen me cry. Even he knew he wasn't going to get away with it. I said something along the lines of, "I believe you were the girl who spilled the Corona all over the place", and then I retracted his privileges to any food I make before I go back to school. Don't mess with me. I will retaliate.

*By the way, if you think food is not the key to a man's heart, you are seriously disillusioned.*

Don't get me wrong, I love having guys for best friends. They tell you up front what they want to do, there's no dancing around whether they do or do not want to hang out, they entertain themselves, and they rarely try to get you to go shopping. Big plus. Even in Chile the majority of my friends were guys. I could spend forever just sharing music and talking to Moises, for example. Often Vicente and I didn't even need to talk when we hung out; we just got along. Oscar, Vicente, and Moises will be better friends to me than most girls** I've known my whole life. It is completely one hundred and ten percent worth the occasional ignorant comments they blurt out when they aren't using their heads.

Maybe it's just because I am biased and grew up with two older brothers, but I think in the end, I love having guy friends because they are always loyal. Perhaps not with their girlfriends [eek, hate to say it], but with their friends (even if they are girls), they will never waver. In my experience they are true, lasting friends... despite never growing up.***

**And on a side note, I would like to point out that I still do have fabulous female friends. This is just a simple ode to the masculine, inspired by a day of silly virile mischief. Mo and Becca are lifesavers without whom I would surely have made many life mistakes.**

***And on another side note, someday I need to explain the differences between American "men" and latin "men", because really, they are astounding; maturity levels, sensitivity, and whatnot. If you think I'm pro-guy friends, wait until you hear my rant about foreign guys/friends =D ***

Sometimes I Bleed Red aaaand Yellow

2010-01-06T22:56:00.000-08:00

Last night/early yesterday morning I was bouncing around to reggaeton. Tonight, as I opened the Isabel Allende book I'm currently working on, I decided to leave some background music playing. About two minutes ago a song called Estoy en Forma by a Spanish rap group called Toteking & Shotta started playing on my computer. I don't typically like rap, but I really like them because, unlike with reggaeton, they pronounce every word extremely clearly. They are also more of an old school rap group of which each member has that classic Spanish lisp. The lyrics can also be pretty intuitive, also unlike most reggaeton songs... if we're going to be honest here.

Music from Spain tends to have a different vibe. They have just as much

music as any other country, but they also have Flamenco. Oooohhh, how I love Flamenco. A man (or a woman), his (or her) guitar, and the perfect simplicity of the clapping that accompanies his (or her) sound are all that is necessary for this art. A night at the beach with a guitar and hands that know the tune, is a night well spent. Even the flamenco/rock fusions that are becoming more and more popular are amazing. I especially like Estopa, a group made of two brothers who play the guitar and sing. Simple and fabulous. Did I mention that the dance is beyond beautiful? Como me encanta España. <3

**Side Note** While I was in Santiago for a few days, I ended up randomly finding a small Spanish bar down a narrow and uninhabited road. Upon entering and hearing Estopa stream from the speakers I felt a sense of home I hadn't felt since my last visit to Spain in 2007. De La Ostia not only had legitimate tapas that made my mouth water, but they served imported beers straight from querida España. Mmm, Estrella Damm, the taste of Barcelona... well, aside from Calimocho and Sangría of course.

Pues, my rant on Spain must come to an end because we all know there will be others, especially with the World Cup coming this year.... which reminds me;

¡YO SOY FIEL A LA ROJA! Time to win the World Cup once and for all, Spain! I am SO beyond pumped for the World Cup, it's ridiculous. Spain and Chile have got my support, and easily so since they both refer to themselves as "La Roja". ¡Vamos!

PS. I may or may not also be spending the second half of this year studying in Madrid. Wish me luck. More exciting stories that way. =)

You have no idea how many times I've had a dream in which I get to meet every single one of these men personally. I literally dream I get to shake each one of their hands and then watch them play. It is without a doubt the best dream ever. Especially the end when I end up going out with Fernando Torres aaaaannnndddd Cesc Fabregas. =)

Miss the Beat

2010-01-06T00:13:00.000-08:00

My older brother asked me to do this. For the past five months he has been reading the blog that I kept going while I was in Chile, and for some reason he thinks I should keep writing... even though my life is no longer filled with fun chilean adventures. Nay, now I go back to crashing in Jersey for winter break and going to school down at good old St. Mary's College of Maryland; population, less than 2,000. **No, it is not a Catholic school OR an all girls school, so you can stop judging me right now.**

So, why did I succumb and write the silly thing? Probably because if I don't write down the things that are floating wildly around in my sleepless brain, then I will end up ranting to someone in person instead. Few people enjoy a solid rant about my curiosities over ways to find transportation to New Orleans, a place I decided only the other night that I must see before I die. I also highly doubt that someone wants his or her ear chewed off about different accents and how each one of them makes me giddy with geeky excitement. These are the things people tend to keep to themselves.

Since I've already committed to this thing, I'm going to start with what is keeping me awake this cold, Jersey night. Reggaeton. Yes, I realize that it is ridiculous. I do indeed understand the lyrics. However, there is a certain irresistible I-must-dance-now sort of feeling that it tends to inspire within me. Laugh if you must, but you try to go to a crowded club, full of young attractive people allll dancing to this deep beat, and don't move your hips. Impossible. And on a cold night like I am currently experiencing against my will, I can't seem to think of anything but those hot, packed discos. Nothing warms you up quite like some reggaeton. Three cheers for perreo; less attractively referred to as grinding in the dear US of A.

Alright, don't flip. I know you're thinking, "clearly St. Mary's is not a Catholic school with this kind of talk, umph!," but I would like to point out that perreo should not be translated directly like that. It's a bit classier, and more along the lines of Dirty Dancing, dancing, not gross high school dancing. Point being, reggaeton is not going to make a cold situation any colder. Let's just pretend I didn't dig myself into a hole with this one.

If you're at all interested in some music that mixes a strong beat with other traditional latin sounds, then maybe you should check out some reggaeton. You should, as with almost any other thing to be found in life, try it at the very least. Worst case is that you move your hips a little to some crappy music. Whatever floats your boat.

Tito el Bambino, Wisin y Yandel, Don Omar, Pit Bull, Notch, and Daddy Yankee are all really popular right now. Recently a good deal of reggaeton artists have been collaborating with hit pop singers like Enrique Iglesias, David Bisbal, and even 50 cent as well. Maybe it's just good memories of warm chilean nights for me, but there is something about this sound.

Anyway, welcome to the thoughts and ponderings of Kait Greg! I hope you like random because my life if full of it. You could even say my life has some awkward tendencies; certainly some of my stories prove it. Maybe you'll get a glimpse... whoever (if anyone) you are.