donde estoy

Fantastic workout today, first bench press in probably a year. Nothing feels better than the full muscle exhaustion, sometimes it´s just what you need.

Realizing how I am apparently annoyed with not only the American way of life but also a bit perturbed by the Costa Rican one. I am in odd place in time and space that allows for very little acceptance for things that seem so outright wrong. I want to go back to being naive, and all of the blissful ignorance that it encompassed. The other day at Castros, there was a group of Americans trying to get in, and the three girls hadn´t brought their IDs and were taking turns complaining (in the utmost annoying voices) about not having their identification and not realizing they needed it. The guy, (who was a complete tool, judging by his Polo shirt, popped collar, short khakis and overall demeanor) was trying to act cool and explain to the bouncer the situation in his very choppy Spanish. The bouncer was having none of it. I was laughing inside as we all showed our beat up copies of our passports and passed through. I am not ready to face thousands like that guy yet, or his female counterparts for that matter, with their fake tans, dyed hair and thick makeup.

I should take a second to describe Castros. It was 50s diner, meets Miami in the late 80s. The tables and chairs were very dinerish, and the walls were covered with mirrors. The floor was white ceramic tile and there were silk palm trees all over. It was hilarious. I felt like I was in some odd remake of Miami Vice. After a few Margaritas and a beer, it really didn´t matter, though. My dancing partners tried tirelessly to help my mediocre dancing, insisting that I was good. Kudos to them for trying, towards the end of the night I received this score report, “You know, Cumbia is really hard so you did pretty good, you have Salsa and Meringue, and well, you are very good at Reggeton.” (I would hope so, seeing it really takes absolutely no dancing talent.)

I want to know where the privacy laws are in Costa Rica. Apparently, it is alright here for the trainers of the gym to go into the system to get people´s phone numbers and then proceed to call them. The kid I happened to dance with, did just that and well, wasn´t I surprised the next day to get the call. Hence my annoyance (on top of the armed robbery of course) with Costa Rica. Why can´t they get phone numbers the old fashioned way. You would think there was something odd, maybe a little shameful about getting a phone number in that manner. But then again, maybe not. I am beginning to think that the guys here have absolutely no shame when it comes to anything, and no sense of creepiness/sketchiness. Someone said the other day that it will be quite a wake up call slash blow to your self esteem when you meet a guy in the States and he doesn´t then begin to stalk you. I don´t know that I will feel the same, but we´ll see.

This week is the Mayo Clinic Week. I find myself having internal arguments with myself over how to handle what is going on. I cry and subsequently make myself stop. If I sit around stony faced, I curse myself for being cold. I don´t want to be that cold person any more, but it seems that every time I have the strength to lower my shield, thinking that battle need go on no further, I feel a barrage of spears headed straight for my heart. It´s defense mechanism. It´s self preservation. It´s everything I´ve ever known and I just can´t seem to figure out how to fight it. I daresay I´ve convinced myself that it´s easier to go as I´ve always done, in all facets of life, letting the callouses build like they do at the bottoms of my fingers when I pick up on weightlifting every so often. That way, I figure, it doesn´t hurt so much when I have to lift the really heavy weights. But then again, isn´t pain one of the strongest and truest feelings of life? I blame the incidents and circumstances that have been out of my control that have made me develop into this person. Anger and desperation overtakes me when I think about the most basic and primary reasons that attribute to these characteristics that I so despise. It mulls over and over inside my head like the seashell that wont wash away with the tide but instead is pulled to and fro by the sea without any definite direction or resting place. I can count on one hand the number of times I have felt vulnerable and that is shameful and embarrassing. At the end of the day, I fear that the price paid for the outward strength that I portray is much greater than that which I am depriving myself of. But again, I can´t seem to shake it.

I miss sunset soaked skies. I miss the feeling of an embrace. The other day as the family dog laid his head on my stomach whilst I read on the couch, I missed that feeling from human contact, the closeness of a heartbeat, of the chest rising and falling in sync, complete silence with deafening emotion.

I feel like Dr. Seuss again. I´m here, I´m there, I´m everywhere. I´m up, I´m down, I´m all around.