Cold Mountain

My requests for a "light movie, something not too heavy" were disregarded and thus, about a year and a half after it's debut in theaters, I sit down and watch Cold Mountain. Preface: I've always inexplicably felt more tied to a place the farther away I am from it. Thus I found myself reacting strongly to the images of a Civil War South in ruins. I was, in short, mesmerized by a depiction of the South that I've never heard spoken but been made to feel and recognize as true. Does this make sense?

I can't begin to explain how or why the Civil War has affected current Southern lives and its history, but it has. The movie seemed to point at the frustration that the people felt, the hopelessness in fighting for their lost cause, and the Southern pride that still thickens our speech. You can't help but grate your teeth at their fight for slavery, but their fight to hang onto their way of life, their culture, was both admirable and agonizing. You recognize easily the futility of it all: how to separate these two ideals without destroying them both?

I'm meandering. The main point is that this movie was beautiful, but in the way that a cold mountain is beautiful: icy, bitter, and with a view that stretches on for ages.

But there's no way I'm watching this movie again for a while.

A New Day (It's all gonna be okay)

The doorbell rings while Cathy is still at work. Landlady #2 brings her young neice over, possibly as backup. I am at once outnumbered and outSpanished. We sit down and discuss our options. It turns out that our 80-year-old Landlady (#1) has never officially "declared" the apartment and as such can't really afford to have me legally register myself somewhere that technically, by the government's silly standards, doesn't really exist. They will register me at the place where Landlady #1 lives. The Neice smiles at me but keeps her distance. She is definitely backup.

About kicking us out on our English-speaking backsides: the sweet Landlady #2 simply, cryptically, says "Oh, we like you guys so much."
I am immediately suspicious.

Intermediate English, 8:00-9:30

My student pronounces LAWYER as LIAR.
"I'm a LIAR," she tells me proudly.

About My Job, About The Landladies

A surprisingly high amount of people have written me asking why I don't like my job. Hmmm... (thoughtful chin rubbing). I preface this with a base statement: I enjoy teaching. I thoroughly enjoyed teaching my university students basic-level Spanish, I'm excited about the thought of crafting my own classes and reading lists and imparting upon these same university students insight into my favorite novels. Being a full-time teacher in Spain, however, means rote assignments, many more hours of classtime, and forays into the depths of English Grammar that I am ill-prepared for. Oh yeah, plus I hate English Grammar.

On top of the job dissatisfaction, last semester I felt like I was being taken away from Spain and implanted into a giant English vaccuum. I spoke no Spanish, contact with Madrid was at a minimum and reduced to "get up, go to class, go home, go to bed, get up, go to class..." The reduction of hours this semester has helped a bit, my rearranged schedule has helped a bit, and an instance to get into the Spanish stuff has helped a lot.

But with the good must always come the bad. Sneaky Old Landlady #1 has balked at allowing me to register my name at the apartment, something I need to do in order to finish my visa process. Gone are the sweet days when she masqueraded as dear Nanny and brought us Spanish sweeties. She informs us that she has to talk it over with her mother, Old Landlady #2, because they're thinking of selling the apartment. Out from under our feet! Indignance, confusion, and mild worries.

A Winter Wonderland

Apparently all that Simpsons news coverage got the best of me and I had to take a rest from the blog. Enough! My world is chugging along quite nicely. My new schedule appears to have been handcrafted by Jesus and the Saints and, although I'm forced to hit the sack at an extra-early 11:00 nearly every night, I have more than enough free time to devote to reruns of Will & Grace and food.

Last week I had this strangely blissful week, full of fun evenings with Spanish friends and extra speaking time with Austrian Peter, who is in my Catalan class (it confuses me, too, if I think about it too hard). I am thinking of volunteering at a local NGO to up the Spanish output to a maximum. I've been reading more. I tick off a resolution or two. Can I scratch one out? I'll let you guess which one.

In other news, the warmish weather has been replaced by an Arctic Polar Blast. The media has been in a frenzy about this, but I paid no mind until it began to snow earlier today. I started laughing and stared out the office's sixth-story window for about 20 minutes. Canadian Natalie laughed and made a remark about my sunny South. Can I help that the snow, falling lightly onto the unsuspecting pedestrians below, still amazes my southern-fried heart?

Last Gay Simpsons Post, I Promise

So maybe not Smithers. But Milhouse??

Online Bookie Takes Bets on Gay 'Simpsons' Character

Differing Opinions

Others weigh in on the (apparently) huge, internet geek-filled debate about the gay Simpsons character.

Big Money Says Ned Flanders Is Gay

My Bet's On Smithers

Although this news was apparently released late this summer, I'm only now finding out about it. The character has yet to be revealed.

Simpsons to reveal gay character

The Inauguration

To not offend the sensitive nature of some of the readers of this blog (hi mom), I'll just refer you to the Village Voice's great article on this topic.

Palestra: Gym of The Stars

Although it is a terribly expensive 70E a month, the gym that I've been eyeing quietly, in preparation for a year-full of resolution madness, is the closest and the nicest. There is a jacuzzi, sauna, cafeteria and hair salon nestled inbetween a gajillion bicycles and treadmills. Patrons jog along, sweating to MTV España. I like.

In my free visit, I see a celebrity walk down the stairs (second floor: locker rooms, third floor: weight room). I know him because he is on my second favorite TV show, the one that I never watch. I immediately want to text Cathy the news, but I finish my workout. I tell my students later that day and they are more interested in the fact that I'm going to Palestra. They have heard of this gym, they say, and there are many famous people there. Their eyes glaze over.

One student, however, looks me square in the eyes, unfazed with my story. He points a finger. "Shouldn't you find a gym that's more your level?"

My level? Should I be attending McDonald's McGym instead?

Same Old, Same Old

I arrived Wednesday morning still sucking jet fumes and hefting my now-broken luggage across the airport. I got home safely, took a four-hour nap (is it still called a nap after four hours?) and went into work. Some of you have asked about my new schedule, and I have to admit that it seems better. I'm working Mondays and Wednesdays at 8:00am and on Saturdays 11:30-2:00, but apart from those unholy horrors, I don't work until 6:00pm. It seems much better spaced out, and I am cautiously optimistic, as only one can be when faced with no other options. Think George Bush's second term in Office. Cautiously optimistic.

Resolutions 2005

I've hesitated posting this. Really, I've been been trying to avoid concentrating too much on the subject out of highly-founded fears that I won't be able to practice what I preach. Realizing that New Year's Resolutions are supposed to be somewhat private, to keep your public embarassment to a minimum, I'm letting everyone know my specific goals in the hopes that, if nothing else, my immense shame at being known as a fraud in front of you all will goad me into actually accomplishing these goals. Enough with the run-on sentences. Picture background music and a drum roll as I read the resolutions off David Letterman style.

5. To keep in better contact with friends and family back home.

4. To enjoy Spain more in whatever fashion (speaking, friends, volunteering).

3. To become much more proactive about my future. This includes but is not limited to studying while not in school (ugh) and researching more thoroughly my doctoral choices.

2. To join and a gym and finally lose the extra poundage and put on that extra muscle.

1. To become a better champion of truth and happiness and spread yoga-chakra love to everybody blah blah blah. You get the gist.

Here's to a happy and safe 2005 for all.

A Glitch

I arrive in Atlanta, prepared for the big journey home. My aunt looks at me sideways before saying, "Where´s your passport?" I narrow my eyes in suspicion.

Dear sweet Mercedes, who facilitated my visa hunt in Miami, forgot to Overnight Express my passport to me. I could hear her panic over the phone as she searched for my passport, momentarily missing in action. Papers shuffled. She muttered to herself. I held a cool washcloth to my forehead to keep from hyperventilating. What to do now?

She finds my passport, and also miraculously finds my visa, which came the same morning. She promises to mail it out the same afternoon. The rest of the afternoon is spent making frantic phone calls across the globe and back home. USAirways refuses at first to change my flight, but I am persistent and sometimes persistance pays in America. My flight is changed to Tuesday night. My boss is unhappy but he´s an ass anyway.

I go home to Valdosta the next morning with my passport in hand, ready to spend my few extra days with the family and enjoy an extension to what was such a rushed holiday. I am happy, yet wary, wondering what could possibly happen next.

The City So Great They Named It Twice

Something about New York City has failed to captivate me. After spending three days in its heart, traipsing around intentionally ignoring all touristy traps, I missed the magical sense of wonder that most inevitably leave with. I have been before, and I have never been really amazed, but this time was definitive. I made a mental note and highlighted the fact in my head: Places I Will Not Live In. It´s too big, too mean, too rushed. Although it´s kinda clichéd, people say that living in New York makes you hard. I can believe that.

But I still bought a T-shirt.

A Good Start

Being terrifically tired, Travis and I decided to watch the South Park marathon on Comedy Central to ring in the new year. Somewhere about 11:30 we fell asleep.

Celebrations around the world, and Travis was snoring.