Surviving

I'm standing outside my brother's house. He's talking about his life, which mostly means he's talking about his tiny new baby. He sees a bird circling in the sky and, stopping in mid-sentence, points up at it. "That's a hawk."
Although a little surprised that he can correctly identify it, I'm nonplussed. "Okay."
With his fixed eyes on the bird, he says,"Yeah, I shot one the other day."
"Why?" I frown.
"Well, we used to have a tiny puppy in the backyard, and we think the hawks came and took it. They've killed all the squirrels in our neighborhood."
I laugh, even though the puppy story is actually mildly traumatic. I laugh because really, every story I've ever made up about South Georgia being the Savage Land is more fact than fiction.

Something Doesn't Sound Quite Right

Christmas according to my students: The idea for the Christmas tree began with Martin Luther King, in Germany, in the 1500s.

Huh.

vs.

Saying Goodbye

is
really
wearing
me
out.

Packing, Part II

I'm standing in the middle of the room. I'm pretty certain that at least one of my suitcases is going to implode in the airport, straining with the weight of all these clothes.

Packing Up, Moving On

The lady at the deli section of the supermarket asks for a big hunk of meat. I overhear her and glance up from my shopping. While the Deli Guy is sawing up some big slab of something for her, she glares at him intensely, not once taking her eyes off him. Feeling the creepy vibrations invade the area around all of us, I stop picking out yogurt and stare at her. Out of nowhere she begins to lick her lips, still staring at Deli Guy. But the thing is, she wasn't licking her lips like, "Even though I'm an older woman, I'm being sexy and demure. I am Anne Bancroft, be seduced by me!" Instead, she sticks her tongue out as far as it will go and completely licks all over her lips. I cock my head in curiosity, because I have no idea what's going on here. We stay like this for a minute, the woman slobbering up half her face in a vain attempt to seduce the oblivious Deli Guy. The absurdity of the situation begins to hit me and I start to laugh out loud, which makes Deli Guy look up from the hunk of meat and stare at me. All of a sudden I've been sucked into this big crazy triangle and have no idea what to do next, how to break the three-way stare we've got going on.

And in some weird way, that kinda sums up my experience in Spain.

Hallelujah

No really. Hall-a-frickin-looo-yah. For those of you who can't read the microscopic print, it says that there's been an extension for my PhD application since apparently everyone else is just as big a loser procrastinator as me.

Secrets

Everyone tells me that I take pills backwards. I fill my mouth up with water, bend my neck back, and throw the pills in. It makes this great splashing sound.

Lick, Suck, Drink (I always get this wrong)

Me: Ugh. I have a headache.

Cathy: Probably because you've been looking at flickr all day. Or it might be the four bottles of wine you had at lunch.

Me: No way! Anyways, I had three cups and four shots.

Cathy: Four shots?!

Me: I exaggerate. Three.

Cathy: What was that stuff you had a bottle of in your refrigerator at camp?

Me: Crema Catalana Liqueur.

Cathy: Oh yeah, and you used to do shots all the time.

Me: ...before going to class.

Cathy: ...with kids.

Entering Hyperspeed

Can you imagine something for me? Picture this: you're having a normal day. It's kinda sunny out, but it's still chilly, which you like a lot. You're content. Glancing up from something insignificant, maybe making a smoothie or folding clothes or removing your coat, you realize you only have two weeks left in Spain.

It was like that, or even quicker. Time sped up in leaps from that day, and I haven't been able to slow it down. How am I supposed to pack while my daily life continues without stopping? I just want a moment. I need a breather, some kind of space to ruminate on life and how time changes. I want to put up some especially meaningful post about loving life and how you always move on, or that life moves in seasons and in this season Spain is outta here. I want to be very Hallmark about this whole process. [Sigh.] I guess it won't be like that, which could be better. I tend to get lost in my own emotional drive, sloshing dramatic gestures and hyperbole when simplicity or stillness frame the heart's pictures much better.

If This Is Communication, I Disconnect...

For the Spanish-readers out there. I laughed even harder because this topic has been a continuing discussion recently with my loved ones.

Alright, alright, a bit of translation:
"Understand, baby, that you can't go running to Jim's house every time we have an argument. We are two adults in a stable, intelligent relationship. There isn't anything that we can't overcome with a little bit of communication. Communication is everything. It's important that you be able to tell me everything you feel, everything that passes through that little head of yours. Okay?"
"Yep."
"Because only by telling me everything you feel and want me to know will we be able to maintain a sincere, solid relationship, free from misunderstandings."
Blissfull silence.
"Well, there is the cutest little bunny rabbit at the pet store that"

"What happened this time? Jealousy?"
"Excess of communication"

via the hilarious nepomuk

Insomnia

Ugh. Why am I still up?!

This is a rhetorical question.

The Night of Dubious Celebrity

After saying goodbye to Travis at the Barajas airport in Madrid for the final time, I headed back home to sigh heartily, look around the apartment, and recollect all the dusty memories. Cathy was putting around me boredly for a while, but she eventually petered out and landed in the seat next to me to spend some time in the yearbook of our time in Spain together.

Fearing a potential brain melt from dramatic overdose, I set up a movie date with lovely Lawrence from England. We went to see the Chronicles of Narnia, during which Lawrence fell asleep and I sputtered indignantly at the dialogue. "Pretentious and preposterous!" I grumbled when the movie finally finished a hearty two and a half hours later. My biggest beef with the movie was the fact that the whole thing seemed to hinge on our belief in the adorable Shirley Temple-ness of the little actress playing Lucy -- and I was not buying those crocodile tears, gurrrrl. The highlight of the movie was seeing a known (I hesitate to say well-known) actor from Spain's most popular TV program, Aqui no hay quien viva. I punched Lawrence and we gawked for about five seconds on our way out of the theater. I immediately tried to decide if he was a C-list celebrity or higher. In the end, I gave him and the movie a C.

Walking down the road with Lawrence after a heavy heavy meal of Chinese food, my final Suspension of the Diet meal, we see an even more famous actor from a very different type of movies. Lawrence has no idea who this man is, but I punch him and whisper in his ear. Lawrence's eyes go wide in shock, for so many different reasons. I giggled and took one long look down the Gran Via, thinking about the chance encounters of the world, all the magical moments I've had in Madrid.

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

The lights are up all around Madrid now, and I've been walking the streets with Travis and sighing contently. I love the buildup to Christmas even though it's severely lacking in Spain, where the real holiday season starts AFTER Christmas in preparation for Three Kings' Day on January 6th. But that doesn't mean there's no hope at all -- we walked into a store the other day and Mariah Carey immediately started belting out that one Christmas song from the best Christmas album ever. Travis and I discussed the merits of the song and like two teenage girls concluded that, "It's, like, a total Christmas classic now." Like, for reals.