On turning 29

Something in me says that I *should* feel freaked out about entering the last year of my 20's, but I'm not. I'm actually more freaked out about the fact that I don't feel freaked out than I am about turning 29. I wonder if maybe I just take everything for granted and whether I'm really understanding and appreciating this whole ageing thing or whether I believe I'll stay young and indestructible forver. (Well, my search for a vampire lover hasn't ended, so I suppose it's possible.)

I suppose it also helps that I look several years younger than I actually am...the true crime in American society for a woman is not in getting older but in looking older.

Also, for me birthdays aren't so much about getting older as they are about celebrating the fact that I'm alive. My birthday is a time to count my blessings, as they say, and I have to admit that my life is pretty darn good.

Starting simple: I have a warm apartment in which all the appliances function. I'm in reasonably good physical condition. I have a job I enjoy and money enough to afford the basics and then some. I have wonderful, supportive parents. My families are fun and funny and loving. My friends are intelligent, compassionate, interesting and caring people.

Taking it up a notch: I've been to good colleges and have had the opportunity to live in four states on two coasts, not to mention in Spain twice. I've explored a variety of jobs and have found a field that I'm passionate about (i.e. teaching). I've traveled a bit in Europe and around the States. Most importantly, I'm blessed with a good head of hair. =*)

There's also a lot that I'm still looking forward to in life, including more travel, learning to sew and cook better, finishing my trashy novel and a multitude of other writings, owning dogs and maybe even a house, eventually setting up my dream inn/retreat in the woods...etc.

Long story short: I feel very lucky to have such a good life and I am optimistic and excited about the future's possibilities. I'm glad to be alive (thanks Mom and Dad!!) and am grateful to all the people who make my life fun and worthwhile. (Is that cheesy enough for you?!)

today, being the day before tomorrow

I had fun at my birthday celebration last night. Shannon and Meags went out and bought self-adhesive mustaches as party favors (fantastic), and the bartenders at the Mexican bar let us play with the Mexican wrestling masks again. I enjoyed the company of the people who came, I ate a ton of food, I got to dance with several people, and I didn't get too drunk or stay out too late. (For more photos from the birthday celebration, copy and paste this link: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=30935&l=27896&id=595126014)

But this morning I woke up feeling like my whole life here is a sham. Sure, I have a job and I fill my days with one thing or another and I hang out with people on the weekends, but this is not my real life. Most of the people I call friends here are nothing more than people to help fill the time. I teach EFL, but I am not an EFL teacher. I live in Madrid, but I am not a madrileña. I don't belong here and this isn't the life I want to lead.

That said, I don't want to reject all my experiences here out of hand. I am learning and growing, and my time here is helping to shape me into the person I want to be. Even in realizing that I am leading a false life here, I gain a clearer picture of what is important to me and what I actually want for myself.

I want less drinking and more dancing. I want to live close to my family and my true friends. I want to live in the city but have a small yard with a garden. I want good restaurants and Sunday brunch and coffee house culture. I want game nights, movie nights, dinner parties, road trips, family gatherings and house parties. I want to stop being allergic to my environment. I want access to organic and free-range foods, Nyquil when I'm sick, swing dancing and martial arts classes. Trips to Movie Madness on the weekends. Occasional late-night Taco Bell runs.

Shannon and kiwi Craig and New Friend Andrew are real friends here, but I don't get to spend much time with them. And they are no substitute for the friends I have in Portland and Eugene. They are no substitute for getting to see my mom and dad regularly.

Today four more months in Madrid seems a long time. But I know I'll get through it and be better for the experience. It's just that on my birthday I would rather be where I belong with the people whom I love and who love me. I guess my point is this: I am homesick, missing Portland and my family and friends, and I'm impatient to be there with them again.

Sweeney Todd (*warning! may contain spoilers!)

In the end it was just Meags and me at the movie. My first movie in Madrid! At this movie theatre all the seats were assigned. I have to say that I might prefer assigned seating in the theatre, as it saves the hassle and anxiety of trying to find two good seats together. The seats were monstrous, plush red things...almost armchair-like. No stadium seating, just a slight slope, but luckily Spanish people are not very tall so they don't have to worry about each other's heads getting in the way.

I also noticed that the floors were not sticky and littered with popcorn and wrappers, despite the fact that there was only 15 minutes in between showings. Guess Spanish people are better behaved than my countrypeople in this respect.

And the movie itself? It was entertaining, but not the best musical I have seen. Is always a pleasure to watch Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter, and the kid did a great job as well, but the music was overly dramatic and not particularly memorable.

Also am not sure that it wasn’t too gory. Yes, the blood looked fake, but why did we have to see throat after throat ripped open, shocked face after shocked face, body after body drop down the chute and fall to the basement floor head-first with a meaty thud? (Incidentally, I have heard a body drop head-first from a height, and it does not sound like that at all. It sounds more like a heavy cardboard box, perhaps filled with hardbacks, crashing to the asphalt and breaking apart.)

Was Burton trying to desensitize us to the violence of the act or to draw extra attention to the inhumanity of the barber? If for either of these motives, it failed in my opinion.

And I didn’t particularly need to see anyone burn to death either, their flesh and muscles melting off the still-screaming frame. I would've been fine with knowing that the person was pushed into the fire and hearing the screams, no visuals necessary.

Finally, the characters didn’t feel real to me. They were too simplistic, their motivations too one-dimensional. The feel of the movie in general was too costumey, too melodramatic, too cartoonish to strike any chords. It felt like the kind of serial-murder movie Disney would make if they made movies about serial murderers.

Is a beautiful, sunny, warm spring day here. No need for a coat! Cherry trees are indeed blooming everywhere, and the city grounds crew have placed fresh topsoil in preparation for planting. Could do with a few fluffy clouds scattered in the sky, but other than that it is a perfect day.

Am kicking off the birthday weekend celebrations tonight by meeting New Friend Andrew for a drink after my private lesson this afternoon and then meeting Meags (the roommate) and possibly the hot Spanish lawyer at the cinema to watch Sweeney Todd (in English with Spanish subtitles).

The News

Dyed my hair on Friday because it was looking unflatteringly two-toned, but so far the only one who has noticed is New Friend Andrew. Good friend, that. Reminds me of Andrew the Ex. =*) Anyway pic is supposed to illustrate how hair is all one tone now. Was going for bright, orangey-red (think Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge), but it turned out much darker than expected. Bastard lying hair dye box. But at least the color is not some horrid, unnatural color that gets noticed for the wrong reasons.

Have been disorganized this week and therefore neither writing nor planning my Bavaria trip. Very bad! The Bavaria trip is coming up fast, and all I have is a plane ticket to Germany and a place to stay in Munich for a few nights. Need to make reservations for the Original Sound of Music Tour in Salzburg at least! (Did I not tell you about the Sound of Music Tour? Bus ride to four or five places where the movie was shot and sing-alongs in between stops. So excited!) Also have made absolutely no progress on the novel for several weeks...although I have been blogging regularly so there is something. Still, must get better organized so I can get back to work on the novel.

My private student's English teacher at school ("the little, cruel man" as Alba calls him) has invited me to visit three of his English classes on a Friday of my choice. I am happy to visit Alba's class, but frankly I am afraid of high school students and don't know if I want to visit the other two classes. Also the English teacher is a grumpy man and has said bad things about me to his class in the past, so I fear the possibility of public humiliation from him as well. (FYI, he told Alba I was teaching her incorrect English and a bad accent.) Am thinking the proposition over nevertheless.

Am excited about my birthday celebration this weekend. My birthday isn't until Monday, but since I won't go out on a school night we're celebrating the Saturday before. Dinner at T.G.I. Friday's (uncool, I know, but am dying for some buffalo wings), drinks at favorite bar Colorado Express, and salsa dancing at Tropical House. Hooray! Think it will end up being a fairly large group of people, too. Am planning to drag all my friends out on the dance floor for at least one dance each, whether they know how to salsa or no.

Final bit of news is that I managed to offend my entire Advanced class tonight because (1) I asked what the deal was with Spanish romantic relationships (how they work, etc., because it seems to me that things go down differently here than in the U.S.), (2) I admitted that I do not want to move to Spain permanently, (3) I suggested that I could not fall in love with a Spanish man because they are too small: beautiful men, but in miniature. I suppose someday I will learn how to tactfully excuse myself from answering questions to which people do not actually want honest answers. Sigh.

I noticed this week that the cherry trees are blooming already, and there are some dandylions out in full bloom just down the block. All this week is supposed to grey and rainy. Could it be that spring has arrived already?

Had nice day yesterday: slept in, met a friend for coffee, then went out last night for tapas and drinks with a handsome Spanish attorney who is two years my junior. Mm.

Today I slept until 11:30a, watched a bunch of music videos on YouTube (David Bowie, Roxette, The Killers, Cake, etc.), then laid around listening to music until 4pm. Ah, laziness is so lovely! The rest of the day will be spent procrastinating and eventually doing some lesson planning before the roommates and I settle in to watch a few episodes of Flight of the Conchords. Sundays rock.

4:44am

Is a quarter to five in the morning and just got home a few minutes ago. TtMadrid event was smashing success (i.e. several people besides myself showed up). Sadly, there was no swing dancing. The jazz band was very "mellow," as we all referred to it as we tried not to fall asleep and drool all over each other. Did end up at the salsa club, but only drank a Coke and danced one dance with very bad dancer and then went home. However, I have definite proof of good time had:

1. Less money in pocket than when started out,
2. Clothes all reek of cigarette smoke,
3. Lovely bruise on left knee from when walked into low pole-thingy because was not watching where was going,
4. Slight throbbing headache. Hurrah.

Am headed to the TtMadrid alumni event (which I organized) tonight. Am particularly looking forward to it because there *may* be swing dancing involved. Am trying not to get my hopes up too high, but we are going to see a jazz/swing band at a flamenco place, so it stands to reason that there may be room for both a band and a dance floor?? I might be the only one dancing, but what the hell.

just some randomness so don't expect anything brilliant

Whoever told me to gargle warm salt water (I believe it was both Mom and Robert) was right on the money. It really helped, especially the first couple of days of this flu-turned-cold thingy I've got going on.

My teaching day was going really, really well, and then I lost energy right before my last class and they were all tired and my lesson plan bombed, and to top it all off I screwed up and wrote on the dry erase board with a permanent marker. So I ended the day feeling a bit like a shit.

I was wanting to stay home tonight but also have some social time, so I invited Martín over for dinner, but he is busy, and Meaghan is out at a concert with a friend of hers, and Shannon won't be home until tomorrow night, so I am sitting here feeling a bit lonely and sorry for myself. Unfortunate, I know.

I noticed that when I'm feeling lonely or experiencing other negative emotions is when I'm most likely to turn to my writing. I suppose it must be a good thing; it has to be a healthier way to channel those emotions than heavy drinking or getting into drugs or fights, right? But it's interesting for me to notice that writing is, actually, a bit like a drug. I turn to it when things aren't going well to help me forget my misery and to lose myself in another world for a while. And the more I do it, the more I turn to it.

Writing is a communication, a way to feel connected, even if there isn't someone immediately available to read what I write. Even my journal is a communication with my unknown, future self. Or if I'm writing fiction, I connect to the world of my characters, it speaks to me, sometimes I receive the scenes and words as though I were watching a movie.

And what's particularly exciting/dangerous about writing is that you're never quite sure who will read it. With speaking, you can be reasonably certain who your audience is: you're looking at them or listening to their voice on the phone. But I write this blog, for example, and though I know my mom and dad and a couple other friends are reading it, I don't know if/who else might be reading it. Or my journal: there is a possibility, however slight, that someday someone besides myself will read it. Hopefully after I am dead so I don't have to have any conversations about its content.

I suppose once again it all comes back to possibility. Possibility excites me.

In fact, now that I think about it, there is a profound sense of possibility inherent in the act of writing. I may have a general idea of what I want to say when I start to write, but oftentimes my writing ends up in a completely different, unexpected place. This blog entry, for example. I thought I'd just write something superficial and random about gargling salt water and feeling lonely, and here I've ended up philosophizing about why I write and enjoy it so.

Writing is a process of discovery, like being able to see partway down a path leading into the woods or mountains but having no idea what lies beyond the first few hundred yards, no idea what dangers or wonders await the traveler...

deep thoughts

What do most people contemplate in their quiet solitude? Perhaps relationships, happiness, the meaning of life? I contemplate food.

I've been thinking lately about the best taste combinations I know of. Here is my current top ten:

10. Buttered & salted popcorn + orange juice + granny smith apple
9. Fresh, warm bread + soft butter
8. Granny smith apple + swiss cheese
7. Pepperoni & mushroom pizza + Dr. Pepper
6. Garlic + hunk of meat
5. Tortilla chips + fake nacho cheeze + real jalepeños
4. Grilled cheese sandwich (sourdough bread, medium cheddar) + Campbell's cream of tomato soup
3. Baked potato + butter + cottage cheese + salt + pepper
2. McDonald's french fries + chocolate shake (contrast of hot & cold, salty & sweet)
1. Fresh strawberries + dark chocolate

the TtMadrid blog

I said I'd post the TtMadrid blog address once I had a few posts up, so here it is: http://www.ttmadrid.com/madrid-adventurer/

There will be some overlap between blogs, but I'm trying to write as much original material for the TtMadrid blog as possible.

There are few things I love better than spending a sunny afternoon in bed reading or sleeping. I know that most people wouldn't agree; they would rather be outside enjoying the sun and using their bodies well, perhaps by taking a walk or bike ride. Sometimes, I agree, it is nice to spend an afternoon this way. But there's something so uniquely delicious, so sinful and self-indulgent, about wasting an entire perfectly good afternoon by being lazy. About 15 minutes ago I woke up from a 2.5 hour nap taken in the middle of a sunny Friday afternoon. While everyone else was finishing up their work week, I was cradled in the depths of unconsciousness. Lovely.

This week in review:

Monday--was incredibly happy for no good reason.

Tuesday--a little less ecstatic, but jolly nonetheless. Felt confident about my improving Spanish skills. Had my Elementary class, a small room full of 25-45 year old manly men, doing the Hokey Pokey. Fabulous.

Wednesday--went to dinner at my ex-roommates' after work. Two Spanish girls, Laura and Sara, their new roommate from Pamplona, Iñaki, and their friend Juanmi (Juan Miguel). I was starving at 8pm but we didn't sit down to eat until 10:15pm. I nibbled on croquetas and downed three glasses of wine before dinner, understanding almost every word Laura said, about 3/4 of what Iñaki said, and almost nothing Juanmi or Sara said. Hm. Perhaps my listening comprehension is still not so good.

Thursday--no morning class, so got to sleep in until 10am. Felt refreshed, relaxed, in control. Had good classes. Ended the day at McDonald's, gorging myself on 6 chicken nuggets, a small fry and a cheeseburger. Watched the special features on my roommate's Bridget Jones's Diary DVD before going to bed.

Today--had to get up early to get paid. Took the metro with another teacher, whom I'd met but hadn't hung out with before. Think we will be friends. Went grocery shopping on way home (food is good). Took nap after eating.

In about an hour I have an hour-long private class in my neighborhood, then will hurry hurry to get ready and go meet New Friend Andrew at Tribunal for a drink. From there will head to the TtMadrid graduation party; Martín is graduating today.

Happy Birthday, Joe!

milagros

Today a miraculous thing happened. One of my Pre-Intermediate students came down to the lobby a little before 6pm to let me know that the class was cancelled because none of the students could come, and I was so busy being amused that I was several inches taller than him (have recently discovered that I am taller than at least 70% of my male students) that I completely failed to notice for at least 45 seconds that he was speaking in Spanish and I didn't have any trouble at all understanding him. There were no listening comprehension problems, no need to translate, no pauses between his speaking and my response. I actually feel like my Spanish is improving!

Yesterday I was so frickin' happy for no apparent reason that I could barely stand it. I wanted to sing, laugh, dance, run and gasp for breath and run some more.

the neighbors

I only recognize a few of the neighbors in my building. There's the old man who's back is so bent that he's forced to always look at the ground. There are the next door neighbors: a husband with a deeply lined face like a basset hound and a short, plump wife and their balding, 30-something year old son. (There is also a 20- or 30-something year old woman who either lives there or is just over there a lot, but I wouldn't be able to pick her out in a crowd.) And finally a round, bald man who must be in his 40's and lives on the 3rd floor.

The old man I recognize for his profound stoop and his tendency to chatter at you even as you excuse yourself and walk away, but the other neighbors I started to recognize because of their dogs. The next door neighbors have an 8 year old English bulldog named Jo-Jo. He is one of those flat-faced dogs with a severe underbite and who snorts a lot, always looks grumpy and is incapable of changing his facial expression. But Jo-Jo and I are good friends. I can hear him snoring at night when all else is quiet. The round, bald neighbor has a Yorkshire terrier named Pipo. Pipo's dad also has a wife and two kids who live with him, but I don't have a clue what they look like 'cause I'm always looking at Pipo and not them.

Notice please that the only neighbors whose names I know are the dogs.

The person or people who live directly below us like to put on heavy metal music (usually the Metallica Black album) at full volume in the middle of the day so that we can hear it as perfectly as if we had put in on ourselves. One day this week, however, they switched to Enya.

The next door neighbors are very kind to us; the husband always tries to have a chat with me when we pass each other outside or in the elevator, but he speaks so quickly that I end up catching very little of it. They always advise us when we've neglected to shut the door all the way or when one of us has left our keys in the lock or lost a bracelet in the hallway. Once they let me come into their apartment to look at Jo-Jo sleeping in the living room, his head on a pillow and his body covered with a little pink blanket. As I tip-toed out of their apartment the husband said, "We are here to help you," and I said, "Likewise."

Pipo's dad is also very nice to me. I always wave and say, "Hello, neighbor!" (in Spanish of course) when I see him, and he chats to me when we pass in the hall, asking me how I am and where I'm from and whether I'm studying here.

One of the old women who lives in the building wears garrish orangey-red lipstick and is always surprised to see guiris in her building. She stares at us open-mouthed and wide-eyed with a look of slight fear or horror. At first I was afraid she'd start screaming or hitting me with her handbag, but she hasn't snapped yet so I just say hello and walk on.

"maybe i'm crazy"

This evening I woke up from a nap with Gnarles Barkley's song "Crazy" playing in my head (see link on the right) and I suddenly missed dancing west coast swing. (Connection being, if it's not obvious, that "Crazy" would be a good song to west coast swing to.) Think I will have to find a place to go in/around Portland fairly soon after returning home.

Posted my first post on the TtMadrid blog tonight. Hooray! Will give you the address when I have a couple more up there, just so you can see what it looks like.