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.