i prefer nestle (homemade), thank you.

I realized last night that my ipod keeps count of the number of times I’ve listened to any given song. Quite a wake up call.

Stood up against the conservative family members again today. At least only 1 more week until it´s all determined, for the better or for the worst.

I am so glad that no one knows the passwords for all of the logins that require them to get through my daily business in the Internet world. I know that I started out with all of them being the same, but due to the need to update them, or have them be changed for me to ensure I am locked out (only for certain books of on-line networking) or whatever the case may be, I have at least 7 different ones that I use daily. Furthermore, they are all pretty hysterical and would most assuredly make me out to be more of a crazy than I am. (Or at least than I let on to be).

Suddenly the school workload has picked up. (Granted it really was NOTHING before, so a pickup could involve any gradient of change, though this actually feels quite large in comparison.) Furthermore, it looks as if the last 5 weekends of this crazy trip are planned out making the time invariably pass all the more quickly, which frightens me. (However, I do know I will be getting a great shower, Stubbie´s beer, Satchel´s salad and a diverse spread of cheese when I return those first few days.)

So while I was watching the morning San José news today (with the Ticoparents, bear in mind), the funniest story came on. It was all about the new craze for butt implants in Costa Rica. Because of very lax restrictions as far as what can be placed on television, the screen flashed (pretty much nonstop) naked butts, or thonged ones, for at least a minute of the newscast. Papatico was enthralled. Mamatica was smiling, but blushed. Me, well, I laughed of course, almost uncontrollably, not only at the particular news story and the way they presented it (they had several interviews with men on the street asking their opinions, hilarity, I promise you) but also, and even more so, the situation that I found myself in as I sheepishly sipped my second mug of coffee and crunched on my pan de mano. These sorts of stories, simply cannot be made up. (On a related note, I wish you could give donations in this area, like bone marrow and other organs. I´d be much obliged to do my part.)

I hope everyone has come into the knowledge about the new “goggle mail” system on google mail. It prevents from drunk emailing, perhaps it will spread to other types of technological communication as well. I disagree with their methodology, however, because it requires that simple math problems be done, I suppose believing that an understanding of logic denotes sobriety enough to not make any poor emailing decisions. I, however, believe, this would be much more effective if it required the user to copy letter for letter, exactly, a sentence or two without any errors. I find that once my typing starts to really slip, so does my mind and the ability to connect my actions with their future ramifications. I also think that phones should require breathalyzers for both making calls, but more importantly text messaging. Although, I´ve not had too many problems with the simple and easy “erase outbox” as my first step when I peel open my eyes after “one of those nights.” That is, unless, the intended recipient was already asleep at 4:18 am (who sleeps at that hour anyway) and receives the message at about 10, when you then get an awkward phone call, or equally uncomfortable message requesting a clarification about your previous message. Oh people, you aren´t fooling anyone, don´t be coy with me, you and I both know what that message was intending. Now, kindly give me the satisfaction of a successful avoidance and we´ll pretend nothing ever happened when I see you in class on Monday. I am much too proper to have meant anything other than a friendly chat at that hour, anyway.

It´s odd how language can be manipulated to mean exactly what the speaker intends, as opposed to the original meaning of words, phrases. Spanish is great because you can simply change the conjugated form and make yourself understood. With English, it´s a little more difficult as we rely on inflection, sarcasm, but also the hints that have been created (probably by women) to completely change the meaning of the word. This is true in instances such as, “Is everything alright?” (asks the man, who knows it probably isn´t) “Yeah, it´s fine.” We all know it is anything BUT fine. There are just a few other adjectives that don´t necessarily mean what they were intended originally, but they, (words like O.K., great, nice) also depend largely on their inflection when said, and can in turn mean any number of things when used (particularly by women, I suppose). I wish there were verb conjugations in English, being my point.

Milk and cookies, not just for Santa anymore.

what if

What if you were told that you had a debilitating disease and the doctors said that you only had a year to live. What would you change, what would you do, where would you go?

These are the thoughts I’m traveling through as I find myself without the huge weight I’ve carried for over a month now. I only hope, and really truly try, to make sure that I wouldn’t have to change much; inevitably we all would. Mostly though, I try to make sure that each day, as it comes to a close, I don’t find myself wishing I’d said something that I didn’t. It’s a curious life we lead, full of interruptions and complications.

One of the great emails I look forward to, here, so far from home:

ONE MORE. So i went to gator shitty friday. excellent time…kladis was pissy then drunk but happy and amanda cried on ride home. but i digress. while there kladis introduced me to someone. she was like this is eric he was like oh your rach’s friend…due to the fact i was not clouded by alcohol i immediately pounced on fact and answered. i am brittany’s best friend. flash forward 20 minutes of chatting later (again, i hate that place and being sober makes me yearn for conversation) and i go to leave and he was like wait your coming back right? i’ll be here waiting. a look of horror crossed my face with the though of hi you schemed on my bf, she turned you down i am not up for leftovers…she cast you away for a reason. i spent the rest of the night avoiding that corner.

The charming Gainesville, awaiting my return.

8 days remaining. I gag a little everytime I hear true passion, true desire for a McCain presidency. These gift exchanges on that certain book of online networking makes me lose hope about the generation of which I am a part.

Sad to be missing out on the day after 50% off chocolate sales in the stores on November 1st. I ache for dark chocolate with every bit of my self.

I just made a stunning realization about my sex life from this year. Que TRISTE.

NICARAGUA IN 3 DAYS! I realized today, I will be there for Dia de los muertes. Yippee!

To whom it may concern:

Dear God,

 

Laying here

with these blankets spread

over my aching body.

Both in mind and in flesh

 

I can´t help but wonder.

when the wandering, winding

road will take me home

or to something that resembles such.

 

Where are you and

with whom are you with?

Swimming in these deep blue nights

submerged in my silence.

 

I´m glad the good

of the world that was

preached, ingrained. To me:

only right. Because if not

 

I can´t be sure that

the promise of perfect,

of salvation,

would be enough to drive my being.

 

What is life that has no

pain. Though at times dark,

a lifetime that is

beautiful, how is paradise?

 

It´s true that the thoughts

of you and what can come

sometimes help.

But sometimes don´t.

 

Mostly, though

I think it´s just the days

just the places.

Always the people

 

who make me believe.

And for this I feel guilty.

Lucky, but guilty.

 

I want to say I´ll follow ever

guided solely by the words,

red they are written in that

old and tattered Book.

 

But then I´d be lying,

which we both know is

the very point.

post-bar

I must come off a lot whiter than I am. Why is it that everyone is shocked when they see that I can dance. It´s always like this big surprise that amuses all. I don´t get it.

Had a really good time out for Gina´s birthday, at least 2 albums worth of pictures, even though the night started out sort of crappy.

Sort of bothers me how little attention the girl who has been arrested in Iran is getting. She is a student from a university in California who was doing some research on the women´s rights movement in Iran. I saw the story one day, and since then it´s been gone. Sort of sad the way that the media picks certain stories to continue to run and those to not.

I think it should be illegal to store your credit card number in an itunes account. It´s far too easy to spend money.

I´m really sick of being called preciosa. Also deliciosa.

I should probably go to sleep.

violence in the night

I had the worst dream of my life last night. I don´t get nightmares often, but it was terrible and I can´t seem to shake it out of my mind.

the number 23

I don´t know why, or how, or if it´s just a product of my imagination coupled with the positive energy placed on it, but 23 really is my lucky number. Yesterday was the best day I´ve had in a while.

To start things off, after breakfast with my family, who have assured me that the mountain of sugar of my dreams is good luck (and then made jokes about our mountains of fruit, pan) as Mamatica and I washed the dishes, she told me some of the most wonderful things. She said that my time here had flown by so far, and when I said something about it being the same for all of her previous students, she disagreed. She went on to tell me some of the kindest, sweetest things. Things I needn´t reproduce here, but nonetheless, they were exactly what I needed to hear in terms of my downtrodden mood, feelings of guilt regarding familial matters. She said though, that I felt like her daughter. One of those times when my Spanish just isn´t quite enough to completely communicate how grateful I was for her kind words. Darn it.

Then, in Spanish, felt comfortable with yet one more use of subjunctive. I´m beginning to wonder how idiotic I´ve sounded in the seemingly endless times when I should be using it. Good thing no one really pronounces the ends of their words here, I´m going to try and stop too, that way I can worry a little less about these conjugations. (On a side note, I should have been using the alternative, friendly, informal form, vos, more, apparently it´s all that´s used in Nicaragua. Will be a must in a weeks time.)

Lunch wasn´t exceptional, but the gym (and most certainly the walk to) was also quite fulfilling. My very mancha friend was wearing a white dress, which apparently is even more of a magnet for catcalls, etc. If I had counted, it would have most assuredly, been in the 30s, 40s, the number of guys calling out to her. Most entertaining, a white, shorter semi truck that actually slowly followed as we walked, getting all the more creative with their means of attention getting. I couldn´t contain my laughter.

Music class was cancelled. We learned that our exam was take home. Because of Vanessa´s and my trip next Wednesday, next class was cancelled. I had an empanada for dinner. When I walked into my basement area, host brother was there and had just started Love, Actually. When Papatico walked in, he called me his hija. I got a 45 minute shut eye. Had a wonderful Daquiri and a few beers at Ciros to complete my night. Along with what I can remember as a very deep and intellectual conversation that gently grazed topics like feminism, politics, communism, liberalism, love, and of course the upcoming journey to Nicaragua.

It really was a wonderful day.

Could it possibly be that we are a mere week and a half away from this election? Hoping to try and print out my ballot and vote through facsimile. Fingers are crossed.

An event from 2 days ago that still has me just a bit unnerved. I need to get it out, the negative feelings, so that I don´t dare dwell (more). Reading through a local newspaper, I saw that Jolie was planning on another adoption, potentially. When I verbalized this, a girl in the program, visibly annoyed, expressed her distaste with such a circumstance. Immediately, I jumped on the defensive (psychologically, though physically I remained completely motionless-wordless, for a few seconds, hoping for a good explanation). She went on to say that the kids would not be given a “normal life,” here is where I began to get a little too agitated to control it further. I´m sorry but are they better off as orphans in third world countries? Is it not justified, her, and any other celebrity for that matter, that has the money to pay for the adoption and subsequent care needed for these kids. She countered with some story about her own family that had been unsuccessful at adopting overseas and that it wasn´t “fair” because they would have been able to provide a “normal life.” Again, maintaining as much self control as I could muster, I said, there are plenty, half a million at any given time, children in the U.S. that need families, and upon having a home study done (to ensure the people aren´t crazy), foster care and adoption really isn´t that difficult. It may be unfair that those with the money, the clout, can save these kids from around the world, but there are far too many in our country to be complaining about that. Don´t tell me, a girl who was adopted from foster care, out of inner city Cleveland, that adoption is difficult to achieve. Don´t argue with me that because a celebrity (a knowledgeable, caring, good mother) wants to adopt her 7th child (4th adoption) that it isn´t right. What the hell is wrong with it, even if she doesn´t have the time she says she devotes to her kids, she undoubtedly has some of the best nannies, assistants, money can buy. Regardless if the kids are “normal” (and really, who is?), how in the hell are they better off without families. I frankly don´t care if the UN worker (who, OK, I do admire) uses all of this as a publicity stunt, if it helps that many more kids, leave it alone. My God. People sometimes just astound me.

I feel better now.

San José today. Dancing tonight?

Homecoming weekend. Go Gators.

the measure of life

TODAY IS MY HALF BIRTHDAY!

(not that I´m celebrating, this time, but still.)

That´s all I´ve got to say about that.

i’ll keep this wisdom in my flesh

After 14 months I think my Clarks are starting to die on me. Slowly, but still, the destruction from the torrential downpours, miles of walking is really starting to show. They’ve been such a great pair of flip flops, I don’t want to see them go. My toes perfectly indented in the right places, the cushion formed to the slight inside arch of each foot, they have proved to be the best pair of flip flops I’ve ever owned. I just need to make them last another 6 weeks until I can lay them to rest; but I will hate to see them go.

Had my measurements taken at the gym yesterday. Nothing like a set of raw numbers to really put life into perspective. Lucky for me, the gym guys have made it their goals to try and obtain gringas, so I get to use that to my advantage as the workout plan is created for me. In my defense, I warned him over a week ago that I only wanted to be friends. Thus, I shant feel any remorse for taking advantage of others. I doubt the time remaining will allow for a transformation that I desire, but just like anything, poco a poco.

Nicaragua rescheduled for next weekend; this weekend is a friend’s birthday and I feel like a total jerk for not realizing it. Friday we buy tickets, looking like a straight shot to Managua, then hop over to Granada for a few days before heading back to the Capital to return to San Jose. The friend that is accompanying me is just a little less sure of her Spanish than I am, meaning it will be my Spanish that navigates us through the trip. I’m studying, needless to say.

I think I made a huge realization, an epiphany of sorts yesterday. It is simply this, up until very recently I have always wondered, not understood, and been completely confounded by the male preocupation with the female, the body etc. It never made much sense to me, until recently. Thus, I have always had a hard time understanding why prostitution is such a huge enterprise, why women were and still are in many cases, exchanged for dowries, etc. In the book I’m reading now, about the Sudanese and their experiences of the past 30 years, the author talks about how women are worth upwards of $20,000 in cattle. These numbers seem astounding mostly because, or so i figure, I live in a patriarchal society that puts very little focus on the female in all realms of life. I think one of the major parts of me growing out of the girl I’ve always been, is to have come to this realization.  I’ve always idolized women who don’t even close to resemble what is truly beautiful about the female. I don’t and can’t blame this entirely on society, but having the mother that I do, I know that it isn’t a product of my raising. It is a weird place, to be caught in between the stages of life rather than within one particular one. I think that the results can be quite breathtaking, though. The perspective offered by not truly belonging or at least being displaced for a while allows for some of the more clarified, more true comprehension, awareness of those things that spin around us. I always saw some of the more delicate natures, features, and characteristics of women as being weak and something that I’d just as soon let go of or escape all together.

Now, it’s different.

I watch as my Mamatica ensures that her family is put together, that breakfast and dinner are cooked and served without fail. She winces in pain at the soreness of her aching back after a day of cleaning and washing, but all the while saying nothing while she prepares every dish from scratch. I used to inwardly groan at the (no matter how seldom) revealing of the emotional heartaches and pain of my own mother, seeing it in her a sign of frailness that I’d preferred to ignore, wanted not to be present. Some of these memories sting my conscious due to the severity with which I treated some of the most difficult and tumultuous periods of hers (and mine own) life. But only now, can I appreciate these things, seeing all of them with a new set of eyes, a new mind. There are these things that inherently separate the sexes. And for my late meeting of minds in this respect, I blame myself but also society.

I just keep reburning that which should have time to heal. I know the sun is dangerous, especially this far from home, from what I know. But the beautiful serenity it provides as well as the warmth and comfort that I seek, is far too much to resist. I feel my flesh slowly changing, a little stronger maybe. Glowing: and the glow is just too bright not to search out. I’ve been a lover of the sun for my whole life, and it has already provided me with the scars of near misses with danger, but I yearn for it and the simple pleasure that I derive, the sense of calm I receive from the soft sweat of it’s intense heat draws me forward. I think the enjoyment far outweighs the potential hazards of playing with something that so resembles fire.

soulmate

 

“veritaserum”

Crazy 2: but theres nothing wrong with being a hopeless romantic…

Crazy 2: or…

Crazy 2: a skeptical romantic attracted to hopeless situations?

Crazy 2: i must say, i think I used to be a lot of the latter

Crazy 2: and now im just a sex addict

Crazy 2: and have no romantic emotions

Crazy 2: im only half kidding

Crazy 1: i think i´m almost there, seriously

Crazy 2: i wish i wasnt there

Crazy 2: but oh well, for now getting somewhere in life takes precedence

Crazy 2: once im on my journey maybe ill allow a few detours haha

 

unabashed

Somehow I happened upon a show called “Sunset Tan” yesterday, and as I sat on my very uncomfortable couch downstairs, I could not believe my eyes. A. Why in the hell are they showing the goings on of a freaking tanning salon in California, what could POSSIBLY be that interesting? B. If these people were not acting in this reality show, I fear for them, I really do. But mostly I fear for our country as a whole, because it was astounding, their stupidity. I know that sounds harsh, and maybe it is, but Dios Mio, I really couldn´t fathom what I was seeing. I think the biggest concern I was left with, was C. There probably, no most certainly, ARE people who like the show for more than the simple pleasure and wonderment that comes from observing such a strange subculture. For me it was more like watching that accident happen that you know you shouldn´t; nevertheless, you can´t help but stare. And I did for a few, until I needed to check on Mamatica´s pasta.

Looks like the bus to Nicaragua is only about $60 round trip, assuming of course that we can buy today and go tomorrow without more reservation notice.

Michelle Obama is at UF on Wednesday. I bet that will be fun. I was proud of my Jacksonville residing aunt who after I sent her a somewhat passive aggressive email regarding her Obama chain letter. She, a very northern Florida (might as well be Georgia) minded person, is very anti-Obama, but nonetheless said she respected my choice and hoped that my ballot would get here so that I too can vote. With two weeks left in the race, I´m doubting that either the mail system, or the Republican controlled government of Florida will ensure that I get it on time.

In fact, I might even be red flagged due to my treatment of the Secretary of State´s office that first week in August when I had to march up to the capital three days before my flight in order to secure my paperwork. After having driven four hours, then given the wrong directions by people IN THE OFFICE, I was fuming as I walked in that door to the seven ladies lined up in cubicles. Then, when I tried to fetch the authenticated paperwork (that I had called about on a daily basis for at least a week, each time to the same response that they just hadn´t gotten to it) and they told me, “Oh, well shoot, we just sent that in the mail today,” (I had been waiting three weeks for the stupid authentication in order to obtain a Visa) I lost it, in the most polite way possible, of course. I glanced up and down the aisle, and told all of them exactly what I thought. (Which wasn´t very highly of them (not personally, but professionally), their office, the state of Florida as a whole. I was hungry, tired, had to get back to Gainesville in four hours to start work, my cell phone had died, I´d spent 60 in gas, not to mention the overnighting of the paperwork to begin with, it was hot, and to make matters only worse, they treated me like some sort of child when I told them I wanted a new one authenticated.) When they offered for me to pay another ten dollars for the second authentication, I said, as cooly as possible that, “I´m sorry, but I´ve spent quite enough money for their stamping approval of my background check, and I am sure that there was a way that it could get done without another ten dollars.” They told me the computer wouldn´t let them past the initial screen without a check number, and I said, “I bet the state of Florida has a Checkbook, and I think you can use that.” When they said no, I called for the superior and within minutes was granted my blasted authentication and walked out, chin high, knowing that I´d won the battle, but would inevitably lose the war against the great bureaucracies of the United States.

Only to add to the superb conversations in Spanish class, was yesterday´s game. Some sort of card game about the inscrupulous, wherein you ask hypothetical questions from the cards, and you do it strategically so that you ask people who will be most likely to give the answer that you want, which is a random card with either yes, no, or depende written on it. By far the best question we came across was about obsene sexual acts with a partner. Our teacher, David asked me the question, assuming he´d get one answer, and then (because if the person doesn´t answer how you want them to, you add makeshift hypotheticals to try and make them crack) as he continued on further and further my sunburn was completely hidden until finally he gave up. It was HILARIOUS and regardless of what ANYONE says, I think I bring a lot to that class, if for no other reason than to make the teacher laugh. And if you ask me, that is as good a reason as any.

Beginning to wonder and sort of worry about how many extra bags, extra pounds will accompany me back into the states. Definitely puts a damper on me buying that hookah to bring back.

Ankles sore today after the run, I think.

My mind is still at Mayo.

Talking about marriage yesterday with two others who know they´ll be married later as well, and realized I have yet to convince myself that human beings are or at least, can be, monogomous. Feeling like this is a crucial understanding or realization that I have not reached.

Funny how powerful memories are, can be. From people, emotions, experiences, traditions, ideas that you want to let go of, right down to stupid things like the bulllying from gradeschool; they are far stronger than I think I´ve ever realized. In divulging the painful, abhorred names I was called in elementary school and beyond, I could actually feel a singe of pain, though it´s been years since I´ve been subject to that sort of outright criticism. I felt a little better knowing that throughout middle and high school, other girls had been the targets of some cruelty of their own. I don´t know if it was misery loving company, or just the knowledge of the universality of mean girls.

We´ve been blessed with some beautiful weather the past two days, like the rainbow after Noah´s Ark, I feel.