shiver me timbers

Good news! It´s 2:45 and it hasn´t started raining yet! (Bad news is, soon, I have the suspicion that the heavens are going to part and release the full vigor of their fury.)

Pirates still have the boat. There’s a little confusion over whether or not there was a shootout between forces, but the Pirate spokesman (I’m not kidding, here, that’s what he was named as in the story) denied any such thing. Apparently, some other Somalian Pirates just released a Malaysian carrier for ransom. How often does this happen? Where are they hiding these pirating stories?

Spanish test was this morning, don’t think it was my best nor my worst ever. I couldn’t remember the participle for ser. Also, I have a far too hard a time just making up random sentences. It asked for predictions for the next 100 years. This is the best I could come up with: There will be a new country in power, the lights will go out, Becky will go to the moon, and two others so terrible that I can’t even remember them.

Here’s a U.S. story if I’ve heard one. “Flexitarians:” the partial, convenience vegetarians. I can see where it is tempting for sure, I can recall a certain Gasparilla parade, after a huge drunken fight with Bridge ensued and was solved over a funnel cake; after which I said, in all of my soberness that I was so hungry that if someone just handed me a hot dog I’d eat it. My friend, of course jumped on the chance to see her vegetarian friend eat meat (if you can call it that) and immediately began searching for one. After a few minutes, the urge was gone and the hot dog search was ended. Point being, that I can respect if people want to try really hard not to eat much meat for their own health and for the health of the planet. But, here’s the real issue, do they need a name? An actual title for their semi-way of life? I don’t think so.

My parents are having their first ever Halloween party. This weekend my mom is riding on the first motorcycle since her and Dad were in an accident all those years ago. What is going on while I´m away?

I am impatient. I ran. It hurt. But, as per the usual, since I’d made the decision to start, I went through with it…for thirty minutes. Feeling the repercussions of that now. Wearing my ghastly crocs today though, and getting even more gringa induced stares than usual (I would have a bright turquoise pair). My own fault, and I can accept that, I can’t decide what to do about this impatience thing though. Going to a volcano this friday, and if I don’t want to be in excruciating pain, I’d better learn to contain my desires.

Wondering today how government transformed into what it is. Also, how it is that you can do the best for others without simply imposing your own will upon them? Where is the line that divides the good intentions from the self interested ones? Or is there a line? Is it possible to run a government that does the best for it´s people while also allowing them to maintain complete autonomy. Or is that only present in anarchy, which is impossible by now? Or is it? When did life change from being a contract, an agreement with your government to being a burden, obligation? How is it possible to live in a society that isn´t run by ideologies, if it´s not, what happens when you don´t align? I can´t decide if these ideologies are maintained and passed on from one generation to the next, or if they change. Are the purest ideologies the one that cause such awful periods in history, or the most distorted? Can anyone really judge that? Then, even further, where do we get our ideologies, do they match our surroundings, our parents, or events and experiences of our lives? Can your own ideology ever really change? Is that education? (Or, in a more cynical sense, is it rhetoric and exploitation?) Can education be balanced, fair, impartial? Can anything?

This is what happens when I don´t have classes that are stimulating.

Finally had the curry I’d been craving. With cashews, was interesting, not the best ever though, but did the trick for now.

Up until now, I´ve felt like a window; looked through, but not at. Time has proved that this is not necessarily the case, and I am thankful.

It´s raining now.

i could burst

Lunes. I don´t like it, at all. Oi.

Presentation in Spanish today and test tomorrow, then back to being on vacation.

Can´t get over this credit crisis. Nor the bailout. And my uber intelligent friends tell me it´s the last step to fascism. All I see is skyrocketing unemployment, people losing their houses, and wall street fat cats being bailed out.

A few noticeable changes have taken hold of my life. First off, it sounds silly, but I´ve changed the way I brush my teeth. I wont go into details, but after so many years of doing it the same, I am struck by the new approach. Secondly, and this is probably only due to my current location, but I haveall but ceased using my planner. That which up until now, has ruled my life, held my “to-do” lists(I also haven´t been writing those, which plays into my feelings of being on extended vaca), and helped me on numerous occasions, has become just another book on my desk, right next to John Adams and my bag of Pacific sand. Next, my handwriting is noticeably different since the summer, and my arrival here, I have watched as it´s gotten much smaller, neater throughout my ever growing journal. I don´t know what is to blame for this, but it means I can write more without fearing the filling of the pages, which is obviously a plus. And finally, the word, or onomatopoeia (that´s the closest I can get to describing it), “oi,” has become a huge part of my vocabulary.

Sadly, I realized yesterday that besides my mom, my very best friends don´t know much about the life I´m living right now. This causes worry for more reasons than one, but most especially because I know in less than 6 months after I return, I will no longer be living within driving distance of any of them. Granted I´ll have a phone, easier to catch up, but I´ll also be immersing myself in the most difficult year of my academic career, consuming my body and mind with the learning of the law. I fear.

I also fear the giant swells that have been overwhelming me, ripping my feet out from underneath and sending me tumbling towards the shore. I´ve always been a good swimmer, I know how to protect myself from harm, and thankfully I´m no longer fighting the tides as I once would have. But I´ve kept my eyes pressed shut, not yet willing to open and see either the ghastly damage left or the beautiful serenity that follows in the wake of such a violent tempest.

At least Sarah Palin keeps me laughing. Excited for Thursday.

Today is officially the last day my ankles and toes get to heal. I´m running tomorrow.

que es eso?

Boo to Ole Miss. Every dog has their day, and by one narrowly missed point, you had yours. So sad, I´ve been reduced to watching little colored arrows on a computer screen for football as here we had dirtbiking or whatever that crap is, on ESPN.

The older homeless man who´s always outside Buffalo´s, helped me get a cab last night. He was so adorable. I gave him some money, but not enough.

Tiny wisps of the night greet my thoughts, floating around and then off into the abyss again.

I think I offered to cut the hair of my friends this week. I ate an entire chocolate bar. I took two pieces of cheese out of the fridge and had a spoonful of mantequilla de maní. Apparently decided to post on here. Emailed my second cousin in a reply to pictures she sent me, saying “Wue Lindos!” Hm..I guess my proper typing is affected after a pitcher and then some. I know that when I got home, Mamatica and Papatico were awake. Sitting in the kitchen, and talking to me. I remember talking to them, but not what was said. Oh Lord. At least Spanish improves with drinking. Drinking a lot.

For the first time in my life, I´m afraid to daydream. I fear my thoughts and I try to escape from them. Unfortunately, this is impossible, because nothing seems to work. My mind drifts into that which I am avoiding, as if on autopilot and my damn remote wont change the station. I can only ask, ¿que es eso?

Continually amazed by the ignorance enjoyed by so many of the world, it´s so interesting and sad at the very same time. I´m working on my ability to better handle and to adjust to said people, learning through experience, through others who have more patience and understanding than myself. Every person has a story, and I need to remember that. Hard to excuse certain behaviors when truths stare you in the face and you choose to ignore, but again, who am I to judge?

I need to learn to control 2 things. My facial expressions/reactions to people, their actions, words, etc. And also, to somewhat of an extent, the things that run through my mind straight to my mouth. These characteristics could prove to sabotage my career and I need to practice control.

Last note, I´ve noticed a certain twang in my voice these days, not of the southern drawl variety, but instead a more European, a more singsong way in which I ask questions in English. I think this is due to the inflection needed in Spanish, when asking a question. Though I cannot be sure.

If you need a moment of serenity. Click below. As for me, it´s off to the studying, reading, and making of a powerpoint. I´m being a student today, how foreign.

http://www.msnbc.com/modules/interactive.aspx?type=ss&launch=26891186,3842331&pg=2

good gets better

And for just a moment I had reached the point of ecstasy that I always wanted to reach, which was the complete step across chronological time into timeless shadows, and wonderment in the bleakness of the mortal realm, and the sensation of death kicking at my heels to move on, with a phantom dogging its own heels…I realized that I had died and been reborn numberless times but just didn’t remember because the transitions from life to death and back are so ghostly easy, a magical action for naught, like falling asleep and waking up again a million times, the utter casualness and deep ignorance of it.

-Jack Kerouac

hooray for Dallas.

So glad. I finally found the happy stories on the news. First off, the Tampa Bay (Devil) Rays just won some division thing, and as far as I can tell, they are the first to do it besides the Red Sox and the Yankees since 1997. I don´t know what it means, but I do know a certain someone who probably had the best day of his life yesterday, so I´m glad. Although it worries me too, I remember going with my campers to the Devil Rays´games because it was cheap, and the stands so empty that we wouldn´t have problems losing 100 kids. So, point being, is the fact that they´re winning the equivalent of hell freezing over? Of the end of the world? Probably not, we´ve still got 4 years until 2012.

Second piece of news, was well, it´s not actually funny per se, but it´s about Pirates. And honestly, after the rendition by Johnny Depp, I just can´t help but laugh. Funnier still is that the first mate used a website to demand ransom. It´s actually a Ukrainian ship that was carrying tanks, but I can´t help but picture old Jack Sparrow guzzling his rum and stumbling around the deck in search of gold or some other treasure, singsonging his way about.

Adding to my list of prayers, one of my heroes, Sen. Ted Kennedy.

We had dinner at my other hostbrother´s house last night. A. Watching as he helped his very pregnant wife prepare, serve, and clean up after dinner, melted my rum softened heart. B. They made a special portion of amazing pescado, and I was thankful. C. As we readied to leave, an interview with the Costa Rican girl who is in the running still for Latin American Idol flicked on. This equated to another 30 minutes of pure silence while the hosts of the show chatted with the 18 year old girl. Costa Rica has never had a contestant in Latin American Idol, needless to say, it is a big deal. It´s heartening the way this little country of 4 million so strongly support their little star. And I feel for the pressure that she must feel, as they all look on and watch her climb to the top. In one of my few moments of cynicism, I cannot stand American Idol (or it´s latin counterpart), the business of it disgusts me, and I guess  when four and five times more Americans were watching Idol than the Presidential primaries I got just a little fed up.

Missed the debate. Reading the transcripts. Unimpressed by this political theatre.

Yesterday we wandered through San José. A part of me really loves a city. It´s incredibly interesting to me that at any given moment you can see hundreds of people bustling through on their way to somewhere. People you have never met, or maybe have. People you´ll never know, or maybe you will. It´s just a really peculiar feeling to feel so insignificant and yet a part of all of it at the same time. It´s a little harder to recognize and appreciate these things when people stop and point at you, saying “Beauties,” but manageable. Of course, a day would not be complete without at least one extremely weird incident. After getting a cup of coffee, I decided I needed helado. As we stood in line, Banessa just a little behind me and to the left, I jumped at the sound of a very loud, very raspy voice saying “Give me your coffee” in Spanish. I wheel around to see and smell an older man, obviously homeless, hand outstretched towards my very blonde friend. Repeating the phrase over and over, while no one made any movement or attempt to make him stop, Banessa took one last sip and handed him the cup. He staggered away out into the hustling crowd. Looking back at her, stunned, the both of us not having and idea what just happened or why. I have a soft spot in my heart for the homeless, downtrodden, but when someone steals your cup of coffee, well they lose that place. Without doubt. Still rather taken aback at the fact that all of the businesspeople on lunch breaks, standing around, gawked but said nothing. So odd.

In the city, Banessa´s casi novio took us around, spouting facts here and there about the city, its buildings. We went to an art museum that was located in what used to be the country´s liquor factory. I had wished I´d brought my camera. The grafitti here continues to inspire and amaze me. Made it home before the downpour, thank goodness.

Apparently next week, October, starts the rainy season. There´s a funny if I´ve ever heard one.

Go Gators. Beat Mississippi. Just a case in point, there are like 4 or 5 SEC teams in the top ten (not that rankings matter). It´s about time that our conference is recognized for the powerhouse that it is. Completely different game of football south of the Mason-Dixon. Furthermore, I can´t decide if I´d rather Georgia, or Alabama lose. I guess I´m going to flip for Alabama. Fl/Ga was painful last year and my wounds are still healing up.

Beautiful Saturday. Big plans for more essay writing. It´s casi novio´s birthday tonight so I might have to tag along to that one. After holding the candle in San José yesterday, it wont be a problem.

Ever translating, or so I feel. The words, phrases, sentences, conversations, songs. Hoping not to extract the wrong meaning, or worse, a meaning that is not there.

Charlie Gonzales

I don´t know what all of this means. I don´t know what it means that WaMu has just fallen (meaning literally crumbled 95% from 36/share to a little over $1/share) and been purchased for 1.9 billion dollars by JP Morgan who also bought Bear Sterns in February. I don´t know what it means that AIG was taken over by the government or that Lehmen Bros. went bankrupt, or that Merrill Lynch was just bought by Bank of America. I´m so lost in the tangle that has become our financial crisis. What is the government doing for all of the people who had all of their 401Ks invested in such stock, are they “bailing” them out too? Or just the banks, just the ones who made the stupid gambles? My money´s on the fact that the people will be ignored, and our President will continue making speeches that only panic the masses. Pobrecitos, all of us.

Oh, and Russia just lent Venezuela $1 Billion for military. Two more of our closest friends joining forces. Since ´05, Venezuela has purchased $4.4 Billion in military equipment from Russia. All of this happening right underneath our noses and in front of our averted eyes. Chasing a bearded man in the desert, looking for weapons where there were none, and never even glancing at what is happening in our own hemisphere. Dios Mio.

Economic troubles worst since the Depression. Relations with Russia worst since the Cold War. I want to pack up my backpackand disappear.

Oi. In other news, the Guitar Festival was incredible last night. Absolutely stunning. The lavish theatre, with its balconies and carved wood chairs, made me miss the theatre. Not just watching, but being a part of it. There´s a wonderful relationship formed between an audience and a performer, especially in that setting, unlike any other. The enthusiasm is catching and the energy pulsating.

It seems as of late that my body is functioning on less and less sleep. I´m beginning to wonder how long I´ll sleep when reunited with heaven (my bed at school) or if I´m slowly becoming used to going to bed after 1 or 2 and waking up at 6 to the sound of my hostdad singing in the shower (by far my favorite type of alarm clock).  It would be awesome if it were the latter. But I have a sneaking suspicion that when I get home in December, I´ll hibernate until Christmas.

Supreme Court term begins on October 6th, watch this, it´s going to be interesting.

Another odd transcontinental quality, is the way that people in relationships, and just out of them, act towards one another. The games, the questions, the unsureness, the problems, the jealousy, the doubts, uncertainty, intricacies. It´s all there. And as I help my hostbro navigate through the little creeks and streams of his love life, chock full of mangrove roots and currents that seem to be pulling in a few different directions, I hope that I can find myself in a more tranquil setting where it´s the breezes and personal inclines steer me through.

I want to go running. I need the release, but as I look down at my God foresaken feet, the blisters self-made in my stupidity, I know it wont be today.

Still understanding much more Spanish than I can speak, this worries me as I´m fast approaching my two month mark. The problem mostly stems from the fact that I don´t always, or nearly ever, think before I talk. The moment a though is formed I spit it out, sometimes only to wish I could catch it midair like a firefly and stick it in a jar for safekeeping. This makes speaking Spanish even more arduous, as it´s absolutely necessary that I think things thoroughly so as not to confuse things like ´cayo´and ´cago´ (confuse fall for shit…which I didn´t do, but someone has). Or the present participle for seen for the present participle for peed (which I did do, and has since become an inside joke with my hostmom. I was TRYING to say I´d never SEEN monkeys so close, and instead I said, well, you know, hehehe). The most progress continues to be my conversations with the cabbies, which isn´t so bad I guess. Everyone has a story and it fascinates me to hear others´ when our paths converge. But this Spanish thing is the thing that I feel could be better solved by the emails received by friends, written in Spanish from their latin lovers. (Think Ricky Martin, a couple of white water rafting tourguides, a 17 year old.) Because as INTERESTING as Harry Potter in Espanol is, I think I´d be a hell of a lot more likely to work my way through a Spanish letter (how hilarious they are, as well) rather than the escapades of a boy wizard, whose story I already know. So, song lyrics and newspaper articles it will be.

Yesterday hostbro, whilst recounting a story about his lunch with exnovia, slipped and revealed his description of me (something he did just to make her angry, ah men.) “You know I have a gringa living in my house?” (she gave a “look”) “And you know she´s my favorite of all the years my mom´s been doing this.” (Hostmom has been doing this for 12 years.) How happy this made me! He quickly regretted this little mishap, as he knows how I´ll gloat. How right he is. Hehe. I´m so immature.

Wanting to go to San Jose today for some museos.

Never found the yoga. Shame on me.

I met the coolest dog last night, Charlie Gonzales. Prefers Imperial, sits at the bar like a rockstar and sips it out of a plastic cup, OK he didn´t sip, he slurped, matters not, though. His owner, or friend I should say, who met him 3 years ago was just as captivating. Thick leather skin, dark but not moreno with a greasy gray pony tail at the nape of his neck. An old army jacket and glimmering eyes. Asked where we were from and then told us his tales of being a helicopter pilot in places like Africa, Australia, Japan, China, the States (Alaska), Mexico. I asked him what he did now, and he pantomimed a drink. Charming fellow really, wanted us to take down his name and number so that we could call him and all go out to an Irish pub. We were hurried to make it to the theatre, and didn´t get the information, but I´m without doubt that Charlie Gonzales and friend will make their way back to our paths someday.

Bueno. It´s time for some reading. Happy Friday. (Hopefully, a hoppy Friday as well.)

bueno.

It´s an introspective day, mostly. But just a few words.

Firstly, I watched an incredibly sad, incredibly moving movie today: Voces Inocentes.About the guerrilla war in El Salvador in the 1980s. I highly recommend for anyone (but especially those who need a cry). I´ve begun to realize just how shut out and unrecognized the bulk of Central and South America are to the rest of the “developed world” and it has wrapped it´s grip on my heart and mind. Easy enough when you´re living in the middle (literally, geographically).

Listening to “What a Wonderful World” which reminds me of my grandma.

I watched today as a young couple said goodbye and parted ways. The girl turned and walked down the street and the boy, who was waiting to cross, watched her until the pedestrian sign turned green. Those seldom moments when love is unseen but present make me wish that at some time in our lives we would get to see, from an outside camera perspective, these beautiful moments. She didn´t know he was watching her. He didn´t get any brownie points or recognition for doing so. But as his eyes glinted with the hints of a smile, thoughts most assuredly undulating in his mind, I couldn´t help but wish she would turn around and see the unseen. Pure, is really all I can describe it as.

Tonight going to the Teatro Nacional for a guitar festival. I am excited to be dressed nicely (despite the piercing, stinging, rawness of my heels, my inner and outer big toe) and enjoying a night of culture. Although, apparently, due to the cost of the tickets to get into the theatre, as said my hostbrother, the National Theatre is anything but a national theatre for Costa Rica. Speechless.

Who´s excited for the debate tomorrow? (Wow, I am a dork.) Well, that´s if J.McCain doesn´t flake out. Biggest publicity stunt I´ve seen, “taking time off of the campaign to focus on the economy.” Dios Mio. 

I learned today that the 700 billion will be a loan seeing as we don´t have the money. The maximum allowed debt would have to be enlarged for this to happen as we are already at our limit (somewhere close to 10 trillion, living beyond our means, as is the American Way). But worse still, is that we “borrowed” for the “economic stimulus package” (this I did not know). Meaning, we increased our debt so that people could go to theme parks and buy iPhones (this is a fact, as my friend working at a theme park in Orlando, aka Hell, said there was a noticeable increase in ticket sales directly following that deal). When will we learn?

Bueno, necesito descansar. Buen día.

spanish podcasts

Slowly, these places become home. I’m not sure when something becomes so comfortable that you stop realizing that it’s not the norm. But it’s happened to me here.

I’ve forgotten the feeling of having a cell phone (to which I was more than just a little attached). I’ve forgotten what it is like to walk down the street and see people you know. I am beginning to forget what it feels like at two or three on a sunny day. While some are getting fed up with the food, the culture, the country, I find myself in a entirely different realm. The things I have learned both in the world around me, and the world within, priceless. (I can’t help but feel cheap using that word. How I hate the world of commercialism we’re immersed in. Damn Mastercard.)

Wore the new shoes on the walk to school today. And exactly halfway through the walk, I thought I was going to fall over from the excruciating pain of the blisters on the backs of my ankles, as well as the inner part of my foot cerca my big toe. Usually I walk with speed, with a determined air to make it to my destination, not in a hurry, but certainly not meandering. This morning I hobbled. I laughed at myself while cursing my shoes. My fifth pair of shoes that were just too cute to pass up. The little ballet flats, I just had to have. They were having their revenge. As I clenched my fist and toyed with the placement of my foot, even tried stepping on the backs to remove my heel from friction (which only placed more stress on the blossoming blisters of the front of my foot), tears welled and I laughed harder. Finally making it to the front of campus, I was at a crossroads: I could go to class all the way on the other side of campus, but it could have been a million miles away, or I could stagger to the nearest shoe store (plentiful, here) and buy pair number six.  I bought the sandals. As I took off my ‘too cute ballet flats’ the layer of dried and wet blood was revealed. That was it. It was a beautiful day, and I was having a terrible morning. I walked triumphantly to the school’s equivalent of Turlington, stretched out, trying to hide the painful wounds, and enjoyed my first day of skipping class in Costa Rica. I did well, went six full weeks without missing a single class. Which is really saying something. And I will say, that the school in addition to putting us way out on the edges of campus, has succeeded in scheduling our classes for the most beautiful time of the day, as it was a glorious day in the sun. Too tempting.

I fear for my run tomorrow. I agonize about the moment that I lace up my shoes and the blisters are reopened. Then the heels that I am wearing to the Teatro Nacional. Oh Lord. The pain endured by women. This is why I live in flip flops, this is why Crocs are worth their embarrassment.

Talking over coffee yesterday with Banessa and as the rain poured outside of the barred windows of El Candil, I made some realizations that I really needed. Again I say, it’s just too funny how the world brings people into your life at all of the right times, whether you realize it at first or not. And then, by some strange osmosis, I feel as if each person becomes a part of you, in however small a way. Maybe that’s how we are the company we keep.

The question I was left with, though, is how does someone not only make the decision to make their impact, to live their passions? Vanessa told me about her professor, a Jewish intellect who spoke out against Israel and has since been forbidden to go back. He lost his job at her University, after having already been fired from NYU, because of some political pull by another Harvard professor. Now, he’s making a documentary about his views, the U.S. love affair with Israel whilst ignoring Palestine etc. The tenacity is admirable to say the least. As I think about my unsent letters stacked on my desk. The backspaced words, the unkept promises. How does earnest desire change into something that catalyzes us into action? What does it take? An event, a place, a time, a person? Will I wake up one day and do the things I wish I could, or is it a process? Is the sand continuously pouring into the bottom of that hourglass? If it is, do I get the chance to turn it over, or do we each only get one brief moment through which our dreams can be realized? I wish I knew. On second though, maybe I don’t. I think, more than anything else, I fear, what the true answer is to that question.

Barack Obama spoke today at a park that I enjoyed St. Patrick’s Day at two years ago. Que triste.

Glad to see that the candidates are questioning this two and a half page redistribution of power to one man, 700 million dollar bail out. Maybe I’m being that naive, too liberal girl, but I think it’s a recipe for disaster. But then again, it also seems like disaster has been brewing for a while, and all the while we were too preoccupied with our bars, our stars, our personal spheres of comfort and life. Let’s hope the world can pull their eyes off of the t.v. screens, Wii’s, mirrors, long enough to look up and see the world boiling out of control.

I’ve got a month to finish these applications.

A week ago, in the downpour of the afternoon, I drove past a group of guys playing a soccer game in what had become one huge mud-pit. The color of their shorts was all the same shade of chocolate mousse brown, and to about their chests they were entirely covered and their soaked shirts clung to their bodies. Strangely reminded me of the ‘Bod’ fragrance commercials. I have a strange desire to do that. I’m tired of hopping over the puddles, fearing the possibility of getting a little dirty. As such, that’s the plan for Saturday. Regardless of the fact that I have absolutely no hand-eye coordination. (One of the cousins, circa four years old, schooled me in the garage a few weeks back.)

I think it’s interesting that my middle name sounds like the verb ’to open’ in third person singular in Spanish. Ironic.

Finally, listening lately to Spanish podcasts for good measure. However, if the entirety of Spanish speaking peoples spoke as slowly as these people do, I would have absolutely no problem understanding. Oy.

tuanis

a spanglish word for “too nice”

First off, people need to quit with the hate groups for the new facebook. No, Mark Zuckerberg is not going to change his brand new site just because you have attempt to have a group with over 1,000,000 people that desires for it to be changed back. Not going to happen. Stop swimming against the current, you’ll only tire yourself out and be unable to fight against those things that really matter. And sometimes, if you just let life ride itself out, these riptides of change can take you to some of the most wondrous of places.

Progressed by leaps and bounds in my level of maturity yesterday. Refreshing, truly.

I’ve begun to worry about getting into a senior seminar for the completion of my History major. In addition, it has to be a European History so that my last requirement can be fulfilled. I would rather take the fewest number of credits whilst attempting to get my credits here to count as major credit as well as write a thesis and trek through the rough terrain of degree completion. The sandbags of burden weigh heavily upon my shoulders as I dredge ever closer to that moment where the preliminary stage of higher education will come to an end.

I need to stop with the news. But with NYTIMES.com as a homepage you can hardly ignore that which stares you point blank in the face. My two dollar meals and 40 cent bus rides make it easy to escape a world crumbling beneath the feet of a country and economy that rested on little more than false promises and the fragility of an overinflated structure built on little paper slips covering the floor of NYSE. I know, that at least for the fifth time (thinking 9/11, Iraq, Katrina, Election 2000) in my most recent memory, the events that cover our news stations, fill the newspapers across the world, will live on in the immortal words of history books. My fear is for who will be the authors of said writings, if victors write our history. I fear mostly for those who struggled before this. Those living on the ‘other’ side of America. Those that are invisible and always have been.

There’s a man here in San Pedro that I see everyday. Some day he’s wearing shoes, and others he is not. Some days as I walk past the dumpsters just outside of the gates of UCR, he is there looking through the small, knotted sacks filled with that which has already passed through the shelves, through the homes, and on its way to the ever growing landfills. His too baggy grey shorts and his red sweater draped over the bones of his body are burned images, deeply ingrained. His gaunt face, tanned by the sun and streaked with the pain of a life lived hard, etched into my mind. The pain that I don’t see only because I can’t look, but instead that I feel. The down-cast of my eyes, each day I know it’s inevitable; shameful to say the least. I preach and gripe about the treatment of the homeless and downtrodden of mine own country. Hell, I choose to write my senior thesis about the topic, and yet I can’t find the courage to reach out to this man, if with nothing else but my eyes to make clear the message of poignancy that I feel for him. Instead, headphones blaring I turn my blind eyes and join the ranks of the uncaring of the world.

When the world is gray, things are portrayed truer. The beauty that comes with sunlight is of course desirable and fills the earth with a wonderful golden glow. But sometimes, and this truly is a rarity, it’s necessary to see life for what it is. Without the flourish and warmth cast from a star 93 million miles away. No, instead we see the truths of the universe with all of their imperfections, the disgraces, as well as the pure beauty. For this reason, and this reason only, I can appreciate the hiatus from the sun which retreats each day behind the walls of mountain made clouds. As the heavens part and the water pours down as an angry argument, or a passionate intercourse between minds, bodies (which of the two, it matters not).

Bought my fifth pair of shoes today. I dread the day I have to repack these ever enlarging suitcases and board that plane back, with who knows how much in luggage fees.

Wishing I’d been wise enough to bring that “Old Edition” Spanish book with me here. Finding the need to work on my superlatives.

It’s fantastic thinking about the past, compared to the present, compared to the future. The girl I was, the in-between I have become. All of that which sits at my feet, staring in my face like an expectant Shelby in need of a run. Or a belly scratch.

I love the realizations, the clarity of late night conversations that bring out the best.

Bueno, it’s time for coffee number 4.

paying close attention

Watching Pakistan. The huge blast this weekend, resulting in the death of 53, was aimed (it is believed) at the leaders. I feel like I just wrote about the potential storms brewing upon election of that new President Zadari. I just can´t help but feel the urgency that G.W.B. get out of office before this thing gets even worse.

Love Actually, anoche. It´s funny how no matter how many times you see something, you still cry at all the same moments, laugh at all the same moments, allow your emotions to be toyed with like a child´s plaything. If only more freely giving with such emotions in life. Well, I guess not so much the laughing, as I am there already.

Just a funny aside, both of my elective teachers are upset with the whole of us here in Costa Rica. The first being for our skipping out on his field trip that he didn´t have finalized by Thursday. The latter is an assumption (dangerous, I know) but we skipped out on his class after waiting for him for 45 minutes. I hate to hear our ghastly retort if confronted, (think, Southern accent) ´Well, mister, we´re real sorry. But you see, we´re from the States and after fifteen minutes we´re allowed to just hop out on ya´lls class. It ain´t fittin for us to sit around waitin for you to haul your caboose to class.´ lol

I have begun to feel a little guilty, as of late, regarding my relationship with my hostbrother. The reason is simply this, he´s only slightly younger than me (just like my brother), and I´ve begun treating him the same as I treat my brother. The real trouble stems from the fact that because I´ve been too lazy to bring my cell phone to the office to Skype with my brother who´s located way out on the Northwestern coast by now, I haven´t spoken to him since the morning of my departure on August 9th. I´ve emailed him a couple times, with no response (though, I´m not sure that he still has his computer) and besides that have had little contact minus the status updates from Mom. This worries me for two reasons. The little crazy just bought himself a motorcycle and no good can possibly result from that. Secondly, I fear that in some weird way, hostbrother is fulfilling the contact (I even find myself annoyed with him at times!) that I´ve lacked with brother for quite some time. (He´s been in the Navy a year, and it´s tough at school, as well.) My connection with brother has always been somewhat special because we are two of the same breed, though of different blood. Then of course there´s the obvious connection that results from siblings. I guess all I´m saying, really, is that I miss my brother.

I am in serious need of Yoga. Goal for the week is to find the studio I was told about on Friday (by one of Ligia´s drunk friends. OH! Hanging out with a bunch of intoxicated 50 year old Costa Ricans has fast become one of my more favorite experiences here. What a blast).

Oh and a huge thanks to Wachovia. After being in Costa Rica for SIX WEEKS, you decide to shut off my debit card. Thanks, but no thanks (AH! That´s the phrase that annoyed me so during the clips of S. Palin´s footage. Ugh…´For that bridge to nowhere, THANKS, but no thanks.´The repetition coupled with the sound of her voice made me want to punch a baby.) for the protection, if I thought I were a victim of identity theft, don´t you think I would have noticed in six weeks time, and moreover that I wouldn´t have continued paying my car, cell phone, insurance payments?

I have tiny bug bites all over my ankles. I don´t know where they come from but I am only thankful I don´t realize when it´s happening, because I´m quite sure it´s while I am asleep. And that, freaks me out.

Additionally, I´ve been sick since Manuel Antonio and I just can´t shake it. How annoying.

Finally, I think I was wrong and not thinking things through thoroughly when I made comments about judgements. I mean, who knew that someone I dreaded becoming a part of my life, however small, would become so important? I was perfectly content with the way things were going, and felt disrupted by the appearance of this ´new´ person, coming in to meddle with all that was going on. Those feelings changed though, and ultimately have proven to be an ironic start to a baroque relationship.