Saturday, April 7, 2012
10:27am
Málaga, sitting on the terrace at the hostel, back in the shade because I can´t see in the sun. John is sitting at a table with some other travelers swapping stories. They seem to know where WVU is. Besides some random popping in the private bathroom while I was showering this morning, the trip has gone well so far.
We flew out of Valladolid with Ryan Air yesterday at 6pm, and arrived in Málaga at 7:10. The flight into this city was the most beautiful I´d ever been on. We went from snow capped mountains, to much more rugged mountains with lakes and windmills within minutes. The intense green was reminiscent of the Amazon, and I even saw a rainbow as we descended.
At the airport we took Cercanías (short distance trains throughout Spain) to the city center. From there, we were supposed to take a bus to the hostel. That didn´t exactly work out... we spent a lot of time looking for this mythical bus stop, and finally gave in to the temptations of Double Whoppers and a taxi. Got here, got settled in... the staff was very welcoming, giving us a full tour of the hostel and inviting us to a complementary drink at the bar, where John and I had a beer and a mojito, respectively, and the sweet wine given to us by the owner.
We enjoyed the drinks on the terrace under a full moon (the moon from the taxi ride was enormous) until we got cold, then we warmed up for a bit and later walked to the beach where we sat on a rocky jetty, watching the waves crash against rocks as the moon pulled the tide in. Loved it. Oh- and I found a sea shell already! (a good one, too, not just one of those crushed up dinky mussel shells you can find any day) Sleep didn´t come immediately in a 10-person dorm style bedroom, but eventually, we did get some rest.
Breakfast was decent for a hostel. Coffee, although it had to be rewarmed, did readily exist. Cornflakes and oranges were also provided, so I was satisfied.
Now we are just waiting on the walking tour to begin so that we can see a bit of what´s around us, and I imagine we´ll spend a few hours today on the beach as well.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Thursday, April 5, 2012
John and Casie Do Spain Day 2
Thursday, April 5, 2012
John made it safely to Valladolid yesterday, despite a delay in New York when the wheel rolled of the plane of his Delta flight while taxiing around. I left my apartment a little before 1pm to catch the bus to the airport to meet him. However, on my way to the bus stop (which is, in itself, a 40-minute walk), my left calf, which has been in spasm off an on the last couple days, seized up completely. I was feeling distraught, as the nearest taxi stop was still a considerable distance away. Fortunately, just about that time, an empty taxi was driving past, I hobbled out into the road, and got in. He dropped me at my bus stop, not just the plaza, because I was clear that I didn´t think I could walk across the plaza at that point. Caught the bus, went to the airport, hung out in the cafetería for over an hour (the bus to the airport only runs every 90 minutes so it was either be early or late), had a café con leche and bocadillo de tortilla while planning my conversation class for the evening, and finally met John. I was so nervous that something would go wrong in Barcelona, mostly due to my forgetting to give him a piece of vital information, but he made it. Not only that, but he made it just minutes before the bus that would save us about 15€ worth of taxi fees left for town. So it was a quick kiss and hello, and no time to pee, and we were already on the bus. It was a bit disorienting to have him here at first.
Came back here to the apartments, got him checked in (because Big Brother is always watching and called my apartment immediately when we walked in without checking in first... his papers were up here IN the apartment... relax, guy.), I emailed myself some stuff for class, and then he came with me to my conversation class.
The first thing my students had to do was a listening exam, which always just... blows their minds. Then we did a sort of class wrap up of all the topics we´ve discussed so far in class, recapping important things that they ¨may or may not¨ see on their final exam. They got in a debate/fight, which is always good and entertaining for me, but also serves its pedagogical purpose in that they are more willing to communicate in English when they are pissed off at each other. So I like to keep them mad... Then John played show and tell pet for about an hour. I didn´t think they would be quite that interested in talking to him, but it was good, both for them and for him, I think. So, he´s already talked to some locals.
I felt bad for this next bit, John making us dinner after 24 hours of traveling, but I had a Skype interview at 10pm for a potential summer job helping school children keep up their literacy over summer. I really hope I get the job... I think the interview went well, but it´s never easy to tell whether you will get something or not. So I´m just keeping my fingers crossed at this point and hoping.
Savannah and her mom got home about the time I finished the interview, so we chatted with them while having our dinner. I did the dishes, and we went to bed. John was snoring almost immediately.
Savannah and her mother just left for Alicante- they are doing a bus/train tour of the northeastern part of Spain here over Semana Santa. John and I are headed to Malaga tomorrow afternoon, and I think today we´ll just walk around Valladolid a bit and maybe try to make it to a Semana Santa procession tonight about 8:30pm. I would like to see one. Anyway, out for now to grab some money-saving lunch at home and then get walking (hopefully my leg cooperates today).
John made it safely to Valladolid yesterday, despite a delay in New York when the wheel rolled of the plane of his Delta flight while taxiing around. I left my apartment a little before 1pm to catch the bus to the airport to meet him. However, on my way to the bus stop (which is, in itself, a 40-minute walk), my left calf, which has been in spasm off an on the last couple days, seized up completely. I was feeling distraught, as the nearest taxi stop was still a considerable distance away. Fortunately, just about that time, an empty taxi was driving past, I hobbled out into the road, and got in. He dropped me at my bus stop, not just the plaza, because I was clear that I didn´t think I could walk across the plaza at that point. Caught the bus, went to the airport, hung out in the cafetería for over an hour (the bus to the airport only runs every 90 minutes so it was either be early or late), had a café con leche and bocadillo de tortilla while planning my conversation class for the evening, and finally met John. I was so nervous that something would go wrong in Barcelona, mostly due to my forgetting to give him a piece of vital information, but he made it. Not only that, but he made it just minutes before the bus that would save us about 15€ worth of taxi fees left for town. So it was a quick kiss and hello, and no time to pee, and we were already on the bus. It was a bit disorienting to have him here at first.
Came back here to the apartments, got him checked in (because Big Brother is always watching and called my apartment immediately when we walked in without checking in first... his papers were up here IN the apartment... relax, guy.), I emailed myself some stuff for class, and then he came with me to my conversation class.
The first thing my students had to do was a listening exam, which always just... blows their minds. Then we did a sort of class wrap up of all the topics we´ve discussed so far in class, recapping important things that they ¨may or may not¨ see on their final exam. They got in a debate/fight, which is always good and entertaining for me, but also serves its pedagogical purpose in that they are more willing to communicate in English when they are pissed off at each other. So I like to keep them mad... Then John played show and tell pet for about an hour. I didn´t think they would be quite that interested in talking to him, but it was good, both for them and for him, I think. So, he´s already talked to some locals.
I felt bad for this next bit, John making us dinner after 24 hours of traveling, but I had a Skype interview at 10pm for a potential summer job helping school children keep up their literacy over summer. I really hope I get the job... I think the interview went well, but it´s never easy to tell whether you will get something or not. So I´m just keeping my fingers crossed at this point and hoping.
Savannah and her mom got home about the time I finished the interview, so we chatted with them while having our dinner. I did the dishes, and we went to bed. John was snoring almost immediately.
Savannah and her mother just left for Alicante- they are doing a bus/train tour of the northeastern part of Spain here over Semana Santa. John and I are headed to Malaga tomorrow afternoon, and I think today we´ll just walk around Valladolid a bit and maybe try to make it to a Semana Santa procession tonight about 8:30pm. I would like to see one. Anyway, out for now to grab some money-saving lunch at home and then get walking (hopefully my leg cooperates today).
Monday, March 5, 2012
lunes
Lunes el 5 de marzo de 2012
Estoy en la biblioteca de la Facultad de Filosofía y Letras... estoy aquí porque enseñé a las niñas Aroa y Laura hoy en el Paseo del Cauce. Aunque andé en bici, no tenía ganas de ir al piso otra vez solamente para regresar al Bar Templo a las 7:30... menos que la media hora desde ahora. Tengo una... ¿digamos cita? con una chica se llama quien encontré dentro de un programa de 4x4 en el Centro de Idiomas. Ella quiere mejorar su inglés, y yo, por supuesto, quiero mejorar mi español. Así tenemos una cita por un café... o en mi caso, té porque no quiero seguir estando despierta hasta las 3 de la mañana, especialmente cuando ya he tenido un días muy lleno y agotador. Me levanté a las 8:30. Comé el cereal y tomé el café como siempre y me fui a la facultad para las clases de la historia del arte. La clase llamada Espacios y Sociedades era interesante. La profesora era actualmente preparada y lista para desarrollar su tema de manera ordenada. Patrimonio me llevo un poco peor. La iconografía era así así, pero era demasiado lento. No obstante, tuve la oportunidad de hablar con una chica brasileña que conozco un poquito (aún no tanto a recordar su nombre... :/ ). No sé por qué pensé que fue de Francia. Pues nada. Escribiría más, pero ya es la hora de irme al bar. Hasta la próxima.
Estoy en la biblioteca de la Facultad de Filosofía y Letras... estoy aquí porque enseñé a las niñas Aroa y Laura hoy en el Paseo del Cauce. Aunque andé en bici, no tenía ganas de ir al piso otra vez solamente para regresar al Bar Templo a las 7:30... menos que la media hora desde ahora. Tengo una... ¿digamos cita? con una chica se llama quien encontré dentro de un programa de 4x4 en el Centro de Idiomas. Ella quiere mejorar su inglés, y yo, por supuesto, quiero mejorar mi español. Así tenemos una cita por un café... o en mi caso, té porque no quiero seguir estando despierta hasta las 3 de la mañana, especialmente cuando ya he tenido un días muy lleno y agotador. Me levanté a las 8:30. Comé el cereal y tomé el café como siempre y me fui a la facultad para las clases de la historia del arte. La clase llamada Espacios y Sociedades era interesante. La profesora era actualmente preparada y lista para desarrollar su tema de manera ordenada. Patrimonio me llevo un poco peor. La iconografía era así así, pero era demasiado lento. No obstante, tuve la oportunidad de hablar con una chica brasileña que conozco un poquito (aún no tanto a recordar su nombre... :/ ). No sé por qué pensé que fue de Francia. Pues nada. Escribiría más, pero ya es la hora de irme al bar. Hasta la próxima.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Ocupado
Estos días son más ocupados que los del primer cuatrimestre. Estoy enseñando tres días a la semana en el Centro de Idiomas y la semana pasada empecé a dar clases particulares a dos niñas. Hoy he estado ocupada planificando la lección por ellas y escribiendo los informes semanales para lo que enseño en el Centro de Idiomas. No he parado.
Pues, empecé el día bastante tranquilamente. Me levanté a las 10 y miré dos capítulos de Dexter mientras tomando mis dos tazas de café y comiendo el cereal. Luego, fui al piso de Savannah para reunir antes de caminar al gimnasio donde encontramos con Aleks. Aleks corró mientras Savannah y yo levatamos pesas. Considerando tan lleno fue el gimnasio, yo diría que tuvimos una sesión bastante bien de ejercicios. Para mí era un día de 3-12´s. Pensé en correr un poquito también, pero la garganta estaba irritatda y no estaba segura si estaba enfermandome o no. Por eso, decidí ejercer la caución y paré con solo las pesas. Vení a casa, comí las sobras del pollo y pureé de patatas que preparé ayer por la tarde. Después, hablé un ratín en Skype con mi madre sobre los planes de la boda que intentamos tener en agusto. John se queda en el estudio de morfina, y por eso hablé un ratín con él también para que no sentiera sólo. Escribí los informes. Descansé con una sesión de Piyo de 10 minutos y sigué trabando. Hablé otra vez con la madre sobre la boda... ¿Qué más...? Preparé la lección de mañana para las chicas. Me tardé una hora y media en ella... por el precio que cargo, rechazo de dedicar más tiempo a esa tarea. Ahora supongo que debo lavar los platos y trabajar en las clases del Centro de Idiomas hasta que tengo ganas de dormir.
Pues, empecé el día bastante tranquilamente. Me levanté a las 10 y miré dos capítulos de Dexter mientras tomando mis dos tazas de café y comiendo el cereal. Luego, fui al piso de Savannah para reunir antes de caminar al gimnasio donde encontramos con Aleks. Aleks corró mientras Savannah y yo levatamos pesas. Considerando tan lleno fue el gimnasio, yo diría que tuvimos una sesión bastante bien de ejercicios. Para mí era un día de 3-12´s. Pensé en correr un poquito también, pero la garganta estaba irritatda y no estaba segura si estaba enfermandome o no. Por eso, decidí ejercer la caución y paré con solo las pesas. Vení a casa, comí las sobras del pollo y pureé de patatas que preparé ayer por la tarde. Después, hablé un ratín en Skype con mi madre sobre los planes de la boda que intentamos tener en agusto. John se queda en el estudio de morfina, y por eso hablé un ratín con él también para que no sentiera sólo. Escribí los informes. Descansé con una sesión de Piyo de 10 minutos y sigué trabando. Hablé otra vez con la madre sobre la boda... ¿Qué más...? Preparé la lección de mañana para las chicas. Me tardé una hora y media en ella... por el precio que cargo, rechazo de dedicar más tiempo a esa tarea. Ahora supongo que debo lavar los platos y trabajar en las clases del Centro de Idiomas hasta que tengo ganas de dormir.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Mi día en español
Y bueno, ya está la hora de mejorar mi español a todos costos, incluso escribir mis blogs en español. Y la verdad es que es vergonzoso; siempre estoy cometiendo errores. Pero como todos los días impongo mis alumnos escriban en inglés, supongo que yo también debo hacer la esfuerza.
Los últimos dos días han estado increiblemente llenos. Ayer, el lunes, dejé mis clases de la historia del arte... pues, para ser honesta, tampoco estoy matriculada en estos cursos todavía. Necesito matricularme lo antes como posible, pero como tuve que irme de repente a los EEUU hace una semana y media, todavía estoy atrasada en todo de mi vida española. Supongo no importa tanto porque ya planeo salir de España en mayo en vez de junio. Así, me es posible conseguir créditos en los cursos. Tampoco quiero el crédito. Tengo un montón de créditos bajograduados, y si gano más, la oficina de apoyo ecónomico no va a ayudarme más. Pero, como dejé las clases, utilicé el tiempo para calificar examenes y ensayos que hicieron mis alumnos mientras estaba yo en los EEUU. También, planifiqué una breve lección para dos niñas de las edades 6 y 11 que encontré debido al hecho que su madre es amiga de mi profesora de italiano del cuatrimestre pasado. Fue la primera vez que conocí a ellas. Son adorables e inteligentes, y creo que va a estar divertido darles las clases particulares. Después, fui a Mercandona a comprar algunas cosas y después al Centro de Idiomas para calificar más y intentar a planificar la lección de hoy. Eso no pasó, por supuesto. Pasé todo el tiempo calificando y no tuve tiempo bastante para planificar la lección. Fui a casa, comí algo pequeño (no me acuerdo de qué) y por fin, anduve al Café Shamash donde ESN estaba haciendo un Tandem. Es la primera vez que he asistido hace algunos meses, pues, porque algunas veces que me fui, no estaba muy satisfecha por la cantidad de español hablada. Pero ayer lo pasé muy bien. Tomé dos cañas y hablé con una cantidad increíble de gente, y todo era en español. No me molesta ayudar a la gente mejorar su inglés, pero hay que considerar que he cruzado el mar, he dejado el prometido por nueve meses, y me he puesto atrasada por un año en mis estudios por venir aquí y mejorar mi español. Ya he sacrificado un montón; no quiero que cada vez que me voy a un tandem, la gente me obligue a hablar en inglés todo el tiempo. Pues, bien, también, en una hora durante el día, también fui al gimnasio y corrí 60 minutos (caminé 5). Fue la primera vez hace herrí el tobillo que he estado capaz de correr así. Por eso, estaba bastante satisfecha con mi sesión de ejercicios. Por la noche, durmí más pronto que lo que es normal para mí. Me puse a dormir a la 1:30.
Hoy fue otro día muy lleno. Fui a clase... pues me quedé por dos, porque estaba perdia en la otra por no asistirla nunca. Qué mala estudiante soy yo... pero bueno... no estoy aquí para ser estudiante. Estoy aquí para mejorar mi español hablado y enseñar inglés. No siento nunca culpable por no asistir a mis clases. Puedo asistir a clases de nuevo en agosto... y joder... como voy a asistir a clases en ese tiempo. Después de clases, vení a casa para lavar los platos y comer algo. Luego, Savannah y yo fuimos al gimnasio. Ella hizo una mezcla de ejercicios. Yo solo levanté pesas. Fue mi días de 5 8´s. Es decir... 5 series de cada ejercicio con 8 repeticiones en cada serie. Es pura misería. Pero es la mejor manera de aumentar la masa muscular... ya, yo lo sé que soy una rara chica por querer aumentar la masa muscular. Pues nada. Después del gimnasio, fuimos a Mercadona... compré una pizza de microondas, lechuga, pan (siempre compro pan aquí porque está hecho todos los días... todavía era calienta a la compra) y ketchup. Comí la pizza. Me duché. Planifiqué la lección para mi clase... que pasada. Y sin más de 10 minutos extras, terminó la calificación de los ensayos. Fui a enseñar. La clase pasó bien, en mi opinión. Los alumnos eran un poco desordenados, como siempre, pero participaban... hablaban. Y bueno, ahora, estoy aquí en el sofá escribiendo esto. Ahora me voy a prepararme un sandwich de queso y calentarme una lata de sopa para comer con ello. Después a leer y hablar con John en Skype.
Los últimos dos días han estado increiblemente llenos. Ayer, el lunes, dejé mis clases de la historia del arte... pues, para ser honesta, tampoco estoy matriculada en estos cursos todavía. Necesito matricularme lo antes como posible, pero como tuve que irme de repente a los EEUU hace una semana y media, todavía estoy atrasada en todo de mi vida española. Supongo no importa tanto porque ya planeo salir de España en mayo en vez de junio. Así, me es posible conseguir créditos en los cursos. Tampoco quiero el crédito. Tengo un montón de créditos bajograduados, y si gano más, la oficina de apoyo ecónomico no va a ayudarme más. Pero, como dejé las clases, utilicé el tiempo para calificar examenes y ensayos que hicieron mis alumnos mientras estaba yo en los EEUU. También, planifiqué una breve lección para dos niñas de las edades 6 y 11 que encontré debido al hecho que su madre es amiga de mi profesora de italiano del cuatrimestre pasado. Fue la primera vez que conocí a ellas. Son adorables e inteligentes, y creo que va a estar divertido darles las clases particulares. Después, fui a Mercandona a comprar algunas cosas y después al Centro de Idiomas para calificar más y intentar a planificar la lección de hoy. Eso no pasó, por supuesto. Pasé todo el tiempo calificando y no tuve tiempo bastante para planificar la lección. Fui a casa, comí algo pequeño (no me acuerdo de qué) y por fin, anduve al Café Shamash donde ESN estaba haciendo un Tandem. Es la primera vez que he asistido hace algunos meses, pues, porque algunas veces que me fui, no estaba muy satisfecha por la cantidad de español hablada. Pero ayer lo pasé muy bien. Tomé dos cañas y hablé con una cantidad increíble de gente, y todo era en español. No me molesta ayudar a la gente mejorar su inglés, pero hay que considerar que he cruzado el mar, he dejado el prometido por nueve meses, y me he puesto atrasada por un año en mis estudios por venir aquí y mejorar mi español. Ya he sacrificado un montón; no quiero que cada vez que me voy a un tandem, la gente me obligue a hablar en inglés todo el tiempo. Pues, bien, también, en una hora durante el día, también fui al gimnasio y corrí 60 minutos (caminé 5). Fue la primera vez hace herrí el tobillo que he estado capaz de correr así. Por eso, estaba bastante satisfecha con mi sesión de ejercicios. Por la noche, durmí más pronto que lo que es normal para mí. Me puse a dormir a la 1:30.
Hoy fue otro día muy lleno. Fui a clase... pues me quedé por dos, porque estaba perdia en la otra por no asistirla nunca. Qué mala estudiante soy yo... pero bueno... no estoy aquí para ser estudiante. Estoy aquí para mejorar mi español hablado y enseñar inglés. No siento nunca culpable por no asistir a mis clases. Puedo asistir a clases de nuevo en agosto... y joder... como voy a asistir a clases en ese tiempo. Después de clases, vení a casa para lavar los platos y comer algo. Luego, Savannah y yo fuimos al gimnasio. Ella hizo una mezcla de ejercicios. Yo solo levanté pesas. Fue mi días de 5 8´s. Es decir... 5 series de cada ejercicio con 8 repeticiones en cada serie. Es pura misería. Pero es la mejor manera de aumentar la masa muscular... ya, yo lo sé que soy una rara chica por querer aumentar la masa muscular. Pues nada. Después del gimnasio, fuimos a Mercadona... compré una pizza de microondas, lechuga, pan (siempre compro pan aquí porque está hecho todos los días... todavía era calienta a la compra) y ketchup. Comí la pizza. Me duché. Planifiqué la lección para mi clase... que pasada. Y sin más de 10 minutos extras, terminó la calificación de los ensayos. Fui a enseñar. La clase pasó bien, en mi opinión. Los alumnos eran un poco desordenados, como siempre, pero participaban... hablaban. Y bueno, ahora, estoy aquí en el sofá escribiendo esto. Ahora me voy a prepararme un sandwich de queso y calentarme una lata de sopa para comer con ello. Después a leer y hablar con John en Skype.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Funeral stuff
Got back yesterday from an emergency trip home for my grandmother´s funeral. It all felt so surreal- I´m still integrating it all in my mind. One minute I´m putting the finishing touches on my lesson plans, the next John is calling me to say that my grandmother has not only been put on life support, but that she´s being taken off of it, and I´m calling Savannah to come get my lesson plans and teach my class for me. The next thing I know I´m buying a train ticket online, packing my suitcase, and waiting for John to finish the purchase of my airline ticket home. I slept two hours that night... Valentine´s Day... waking up a lot crying, imagining her face. We all knew she was ill, but we didn´t expect a fall that would cause hemorrhaging and sudden death. But that´s how it went, and really... I suppose it´s better that she didn´t have to suffer anymore. She was breaking out a lot, having more bad days than good ones, unable to eat, itching, and depressed. If it was only going to get worse from there, I´m glad she´s free of suffering now. I just wish I could talk to her again, hug her again. In honesty, the last time I hugged her, when I was leaving to go back to Morgantown before coming back to Spain after Christmas, I guess there was this sort of pressure to it. Those arms that had been so week were squeezing me with such firmness... and her eyes were filling with tears and she was looking at me hard. I felt she believed that would be the last time I saw her. But then things were going ok, as ok as it gets with advanced liver cirrhosis in someone operating on one kidney after a heart attack... and then she was just gone.
I was confused. Savannah had to basically sit on my bed and remind me to pack underwear, socks, and bras, because the only thing I remembered on my own was sweaters. Everyone was in- Erica came up from Miami, Emily drove in from Virginia, Natalie, Bryan, John and Megan made it from Clarksburg of course, I made it from Spain, and the rest of us live in the area. Jesse came down to her mom´s from Wheeling to be there for me. That meant a lot.
I felt like I wasn´t processing things for most of the time I was there. I mean, I was sort of slammed with reality on Skype, traveled for 22 hours, crossing the ocean and 6 time zones, and then I woke up in the morning and was making pancakes and eggs with Dad, and Pap-paw and Bryan were there, and Bryan was asking me to do a eulogy. I didn´t mind being asked. In fact, I thought about it on the way home, in the plane, that there was a fair chance I´d be doing that and that it would be an honor to speak about her, for her. So from that point, I felt like I just couldn´t lose it in the moment or I´d be lost and unable to do it. John, Megan, Erica, Emily, and Carly all stood up with me while I read it. Carly was crying uncontrollably behind me, so I paused for a minute to grab her. She settled down. I let her go. I kept going. Jesse was right in my line of view, so even though I had to keep my eyes on what I was reading, that gave me a visible, supportive soul to focus on. Joe was there, too, drove in with César and Claire from Morgantown. Of course, my family was there, too, but I felt more like I had to support them in that moment than to rely on them. Had I begun to think too much about them, I would have just buckled, too. I´ve given a lot of speeches, performed a lot in my day, but I never spoke with my knees knocking that hard before. Ultimately, it was OK.
She looked beautiful. The funeral home really did a good job on her. Too good. I kept feeling like she was going to get up and hug me. We were at Lori´s having lunch between viewings on Thursday, and I thought I was going to see her coming through the doorway of the kitchen into the dining room at any moment. John had something bothersome going on with his shoulder while I was home. My first thought was to tell him to ask my Mam-maw.
I really just felt disoriented the whole time I was in. Just the suddenness, not only of death, but the planning of such a long journey, and then being home when I wasn´t supposed to be... when I was supposed to be 4,000 miles a way, was just confusing to all my senses. I kept feeling like I just had to... wait it out, ride it out. I kept telling myself, this is fine, this is just the new reality as it is, and she´s at rest now.
I don´t think it was until I got on the plane in Pittsburgh that I really let the hurt all the way in. There was a woman sitting behind me, I think she was dying, but she was definitely a cancer patient, and she was traveling with a friend to Philadelphia. I think they were going to see someone for the last time. Listening to them talk, dancing around the truth, her calling herself pathetic, was just so... reminiscent of what I´d just been through. Mam-maw used to refer to herself as pathetic when she wasn´t feeling well, when she felt like all she did was complain. So I started crying on the plane, unseen, thankfully. I don´t know what I would have done if some stranger had begun trying to comfort me. I just held onto the gold heart-shaped nugget she had made out of the old chains of her mother´s jewelry while the plane took off and stared hard out the window. It felt like, taking off, I was really leaving her for the last time. I could look at her in her casket, I could visit the newly dug grave, but getting in the air, leaving the ground where she´d most recently had breath, that´s what did it.
And then I was back in Spain, also suddenly-seeming. And I figured out the train back to Valladolid, and I was in a taxi. Then I was in my bed, taking a 4-hour nap. Then I woke up and it was 3:30 in the afternoon, and I´d gone home, been with family, been to my grandmother´s funeral. I went for Mexican with Jesse and drank a huge margarita while staring at the floor and not being conversational at all. I showed my grandpa pictures of my London trip. And then... I was just... back here. Going to get groceries with Savannah. Unloading them into the refrigerator. Reading to focus my consciousness. Going for paella with Ntina, Aleks, and Savannah, again... mostly to focus my consciousness and also to keep myself awake to try to get over the jet lag sooner. Walking home from dinner, Savannah was buzzed and talking a lot to me. I felt I could not respond. I was just focusing on getting up the sidewalk and getting into my bed.
Today I slept in. Trying to let myself recuperate gradually from the stress and the jet lag so I don´t get sick. I spent hours planning my conversation class only to have a technical difficulty, rendering my Power Point presentation on Valentine´s Day incorporating the use of the conditional... useless. Usually, that would irritate me, but today it made me absolutely crazy. I taught class. It went well. I think they got something out of the role plays they did and enjoyed the class, so maybe my three hours of planning didn´t go completely to waste.
Then I went to the gym. Ran lightly on the treadmill for 40 minutes. Took it easy because I´m recuperating from several things. Two weeks before I went home I started having a flare up of tendonitis in my ankle. The next week I had a stomach bug and couldn´t eat. Then I found out about my grandma and went through jet lag to encounter grief. Then I came back. So... I just didn´t want to overdo it the first day back to it. 40 minutes running with 10 minutes walking was plenty for today.
Came home. Made some dinner... was thinking of doing porkchops and a zucchini pasta, but then I thought, the pizza I heated up for lunch due to realizing I had no bread for a grilled cheese sandwich... would dry out before tomorrow. So I reheated the rest of the pizza, fixed some broccoli and had that for dinner. Good enough.
Anyway, those are about all my thoughts right now. I need to get back to this. I feel better when I write... as negative as this post probably seems. But I needed to get that out of my system before sleeping, so... meh.
I was confused. Savannah had to basically sit on my bed and remind me to pack underwear, socks, and bras, because the only thing I remembered on my own was sweaters. Everyone was in- Erica came up from Miami, Emily drove in from Virginia, Natalie, Bryan, John and Megan made it from Clarksburg of course, I made it from Spain, and the rest of us live in the area. Jesse came down to her mom´s from Wheeling to be there for me. That meant a lot.
I felt like I wasn´t processing things for most of the time I was there. I mean, I was sort of slammed with reality on Skype, traveled for 22 hours, crossing the ocean and 6 time zones, and then I woke up in the morning and was making pancakes and eggs with Dad, and Pap-paw and Bryan were there, and Bryan was asking me to do a eulogy. I didn´t mind being asked. In fact, I thought about it on the way home, in the plane, that there was a fair chance I´d be doing that and that it would be an honor to speak about her, for her. So from that point, I felt like I just couldn´t lose it in the moment or I´d be lost and unable to do it. John, Megan, Erica, Emily, and Carly all stood up with me while I read it. Carly was crying uncontrollably behind me, so I paused for a minute to grab her. She settled down. I let her go. I kept going. Jesse was right in my line of view, so even though I had to keep my eyes on what I was reading, that gave me a visible, supportive soul to focus on. Joe was there, too, drove in with César and Claire from Morgantown. Of course, my family was there, too, but I felt more like I had to support them in that moment than to rely on them. Had I begun to think too much about them, I would have just buckled, too. I´ve given a lot of speeches, performed a lot in my day, but I never spoke with my knees knocking that hard before. Ultimately, it was OK.
She looked beautiful. The funeral home really did a good job on her. Too good. I kept feeling like she was going to get up and hug me. We were at Lori´s having lunch between viewings on Thursday, and I thought I was going to see her coming through the doorway of the kitchen into the dining room at any moment. John had something bothersome going on with his shoulder while I was home. My first thought was to tell him to ask my Mam-maw.
I really just felt disoriented the whole time I was in. Just the suddenness, not only of death, but the planning of such a long journey, and then being home when I wasn´t supposed to be... when I was supposed to be 4,000 miles a way, was just confusing to all my senses. I kept feeling like I just had to... wait it out, ride it out. I kept telling myself, this is fine, this is just the new reality as it is, and she´s at rest now.
I don´t think it was until I got on the plane in Pittsburgh that I really let the hurt all the way in. There was a woman sitting behind me, I think she was dying, but she was definitely a cancer patient, and she was traveling with a friend to Philadelphia. I think they were going to see someone for the last time. Listening to them talk, dancing around the truth, her calling herself pathetic, was just so... reminiscent of what I´d just been through. Mam-maw used to refer to herself as pathetic when she wasn´t feeling well, when she felt like all she did was complain. So I started crying on the plane, unseen, thankfully. I don´t know what I would have done if some stranger had begun trying to comfort me. I just held onto the gold heart-shaped nugget she had made out of the old chains of her mother´s jewelry while the plane took off and stared hard out the window. It felt like, taking off, I was really leaving her for the last time. I could look at her in her casket, I could visit the newly dug grave, but getting in the air, leaving the ground where she´d most recently had breath, that´s what did it.
And then I was back in Spain, also suddenly-seeming. And I figured out the train back to Valladolid, and I was in a taxi. Then I was in my bed, taking a 4-hour nap. Then I woke up and it was 3:30 in the afternoon, and I´d gone home, been with family, been to my grandmother´s funeral. I went for Mexican with Jesse and drank a huge margarita while staring at the floor and not being conversational at all. I showed my grandpa pictures of my London trip. And then... I was just... back here. Going to get groceries with Savannah. Unloading them into the refrigerator. Reading to focus my consciousness. Going for paella with Ntina, Aleks, and Savannah, again... mostly to focus my consciousness and also to keep myself awake to try to get over the jet lag sooner. Walking home from dinner, Savannah was buzzed and talking a lot to me. I felt I could not respond. I was just focusing on getting up the sidewalk and getting into my bed.
Today I slept in. Trying to let myself recuperate gradually from the stress and the jet lag so I don´t get sick. I spent hours planning my conversation class only to have a technical difficulty, rendering my Power Point presentation on Valentine´s Day incorporating the use of the conditional... useless. Usually, that would irritate me, but today it made me absolutely crazy. I taught class. It went well. I think they got something out of the role plays they did and enjoyed the class, so maybe my three hours of planning didn´t go completely to waste.
Then I went to the gym. Ran lightly on the treadmill for 40 minutes. Took it easy because I´m recuperating from several things. Two weeks before I went home I started having a flare up of tendonitis in my ankle. The next week I had a stomach bug and couldn´t eat. Then I found out about my grandma and went through jet lag to encounter grief. Then I came back. So... I just didn´t want to overdo it the first day back to it. 40 minutes running with 10 minutes walking was plenty for today.
Came home. Made some dinner... was thinking of doing porkchops and a zucchini pasta, but then I thought, the pizza I heated up for lunch due to realizing I had no bread for a grilled cheese sandwich... would dry out before tomorrow. So I reheated the rest of the pizza, fixed some broccoli and had that for dinner. Good enough.
Anyway, those are about all my thoughts right now. I need to get back to this. I feel better when I write... as negative as this post probably seems. But I needed to get that out of my system before sleeping, so... meh.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Another Week in Fitness
Sunday, January 1, 2012
1:25pm
As the title suggests, this post is simply about another week in fitness. I did pretty much the same thing this week as last week, except that I am taking my rest day today (although the idea of sitting still all day with nowhere to go and no real physical activity seems a bit overwhelming at the moment, so there is a good possibility of a walk or some yoga) instead of having taken it on Friday.
Monday- 5-8´s: About an 80-minute workout of lifting heavy (for me) weights for 5 sets of 8 for each muscle group. Abs included.
Tuesday- 60 minute run outside. Ran all the way up Río Esgueva to where you can see the big mountain in the background. I ran a little farther this week in my 60 minutes outside than last week, so I can feel myself getting stronger.
Wednesday- 32-minute recovery run. Slow speed. Short distance. Aim was just to bring fresh blood into muscles needing to repair themselves after Monday´s lifting and Tuesday´s long distance run. Did some abs at home afterwards.
Thursday- 3-12´s: About a 70-minute workout coming at each muscle group with 3 sets of 12 repetitions. Slightly easier than the workout on Monday. After resistance, did 4 sets of 2 minutes walking, 1 minute sprinting on the treadmill. Felt stronger than last week, like I could have done those sprints faster, but since I was still adjusting to a new routine, I decided to leave it.
Friday- 60-minute run on treadmill. I was actually thinking about making this just a 20-minute jog and then going to batuka, but then I decided to stay on and finish. So... it wound up being a more intense run than I was planning, because when I was originally planning to do only 20 minutes, I ran really hard to make up for it. Again, feeling stronger with my runs all this week.
Saturday- 35-minute recovery run on treadmill, 5 minutes walking to cool down. Felt tired, but that was due to going to bed at 6am and rising at 12pm. Plus, I drank a fair amount of beer the night before at a party, not enough to make me sick or even drunk, but enough to make me feel a little more groggy than usual the next day. Did abs, traps, and external rotators afterwards.
So I had 5 days that had some type of cardio, 4 that were aimed at aerobic activity, 2 of those aimed at improving it over maintaining it. One day was cardio but no aerobic, aimed at building speed.
I had 2 days aimed at building strength.
So for the most of this week I´ve felt really strong and like I could do more in my workouts. The thing is, I´m focusing on a few different things right now- speed on Thursdays, endurance on Tuesdays and Fridays (or Saturdays), and strength on Mondays and Thursdays. So if I try to make improvements to all of these at once, it´s a recipe for disaster, because there will never be a single day in the week that my body is doing what it already can. Each day will push it beyond it´s limits, and that can just lead to burn out and injury. I have to ask myself, where do I most want to make my gains? Strength, speed, or endurance? I want to say ALL OF THEM! I want to run further on my distance runs, faster on my speed drills, and I want to do more lifting. Maybe I´ll make a compromise and split it between two categories. Strength and endurance. For strength, I will *either* add a pump/burn out set on one of my lift days *or* add some strength training at the end of my recovery run on Saturday. And for endurance, I will make one of my long runs this week 65 minutes instead of 60. Little by little.
1:25pm
As the title suggests, this post is simply about another week in fitness. I did pretty much the same thing this week as last week, except that I am taking my rest day today (although the idea of sitting still all day with nowhere to go and no real physical activity seems a bit overwhelming at the moment, so there is a good possibility of a walk or some yoga) instead of having taken it on Friday.
Monday- 5-8´s: About an 80-minute workout of lifting heavy (for me) weights for 5 sets of 8 for each muscle group. Abs included.
Tuesday- 60 minute run outside. Ran all the way up Río Esgueva to where you can see the big mountain in the background. I ran a little farther this week in my 60 minutes outside than last week, so I can feel myself getting stronger.
Wednesday- 32-minute recovery run. Slow speed. Short distance. Aim was just to bring fresh blood into muscles needing to repair themselves after Monday´s lifting and Tuesday´s long distance run. Did some abs at home afterwards.
Thursday- 3-12´s: About a 70-minute workout coming at each muscle group with 3 sets of 12 repetitions. Slightly easier than the workout on Monday. After resistance, did 4 sets of 2 minutes walking, 1 minute sprinting on the treadmill. Felt stronger than last week, like I could have done those sprints faster, but since I was still adjusting to a new routine, I decided to leave it.
Friday- 60-minute run on treadmill. I was actually thinking about making this just a 20-minute jog and then going to batuka, but then I decided to stay on and finish. So... it wound up being a more intense run than I was planning, because when I was originally planning to do only 20 minutes, I ran really hard to make up for it. Again, feeling stronger with my runs all this week.
Saturday- 35-minute recovery run on treadmill, 5 minutes walking to cool down. Felt tired, but that was due to going to bed at 6am and rising at 12pm. Plus, I drank a fair amount of beer the night before at a party, not enough to make me sick or even drunk, but enough to make me feel a little more groggy than usual the next day. Did abs, traps, and external rotators afterwards.
So I had 5 days that had some type of cardio, 4 that were aimed at aerobic activity, 2 of those aimed at improving it over maintaining it. One day was cardio but no aerobic, aimed at building speed.
I had 2 days aimed at building strength.
So for the most of this week I´ve felt really strong and like I could do more in my workouts. The thing is, I´m focusing on a few different things right now- speed on Thursdays, endurance on Tuesdays and Fridays (or Saturdays), and strength on Mondays and Thursdays. So if I try to make improvements to all of these at once, it´s a recipe for disaster, because there will never be a single day in the week that my body is doing what it already can. Each day will push it beyond it´s limits, and that can just lead to burn out and injury. I have to ask myself, where do I most want to make my gains? Strength, speed, or endurance? I want to say ALL OF THEM! I want to run further on my distance runs, faster on my speed drills, and I want to do more lifting. Maybe I´ll make a compromise and split it between two categories. Strength and endurance. For strength, I will *either* add a pump/burn out set on one of my lift days *or* add some strength training at the end of my recovery run on Saturday. And for endurance, I will make one of my long runs this week 65 minutes instead of 60. Little by little.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
A Week in Fitness
This post is much more for helping myself than it is for expressing any ideas which might be remotely useful to someone else. That said... if I accidentally say something helpful, that would be cool. I´m writing to recount my week in fitness, as I´d decided I´d get more regulated and routine about my fitness upon my return to Spain. That isn´t to say that I wasn´t exercising regularly already, just... not with the same discipline as, ¨I need to get x number of cardio workouts in per week at a certain intensity and for a certain length, and I need to do resistance training x number of times per week.¨ I am recording this week´s and using it for an example, because I feel that it went pretty well.
Monday- Heavy lift, 5-8´s, 75 minutes
Tuesday- 60 minute run, outside, abs at home
Wednesday- 40 minute recovery run, abs at home
Thursday- Moderate lift, 3-12´s, plus sprints, 60 minutes
Friday- rest
Saturday- 60 minute run on treadmill
Sunday- 30 minute run on treadmill, plus light abs, traps, and erector spinae
In review with analysis: I feel this was almost perfect. As far as lifting goes, I did a full body workout twice this week, one day more targeted at raw strength, one day more aimed towards maintaining strength over multiple repetitions. I feel that this is adequate to meet my goals. With the intensity to which I pushed myself, twice a week is sufficient. I want to be strong, but a body builder, so I think this is good. In regards to cardio, minus the walking I did around town (maybe Friday shouldn´t actually be listed as a rest day), it was exclusively running. I miss Zumba. I like to swim. But having one goal, improving speed over time gives me focus in my workouts. My goals is to run a few 10Ks this summer and ¨do my best.¨ That sounds like a wishy-washy goal, but I hate to have a goal time, because every course is different. That hell I endured on the steep, rocky footpaths in Coopers Rock last summer is sure to be different than a completely flat street race. So ¨my best¨ sounds like a good goal to me. I know I push myself hard no matter what and don´t need the added discipline of a ticking clock. So I had two long run days to build endurance, and I think I´ll stick with 2 1-hour runs per week as my hard days for 4-6 weeks, to give the body time to adjust. I never want to be a marathoner, so there is no reason to push myself beyond that time capacity sooner than that. You don´t want to go into a race not having run about 30% further than that distance at some point, so to do a 10K, I should have run 75-80 minutes straight a few times before I actually do it. And when I make my increases, it will be gradual. Two weeks at 65 minutes on one day, 60 the other, 70 and 60, and so on. No need for an injury. I took the recovery runs seriously this week, running easy on my two recovery days to get blood flow to the recovering muscles without placing excessive demands on them. These days weren´t aimed at calorie burn, strength increase, or improving my cardiovascular capacity beyond what it already was. Recovery. Plain and simple. And one day, my 3-12s with weights, I did sprints on the treadmill. For me, speed and strength on the race course is my biggest challenge. I´m a deer. I can run forever and sort of float along, but if I needed to kick it in, that´s tougher. That´s simple to tell by looking at me. Long limbed, meaning short muscle bellies (less power) in comparison to bone length. So by sprints what I mean is, I would walk, just... walk, 2 minutes on the treadmill and then sprint 1. I did this for 12 minutes, completing 4 sets. It seemed appropriate on a strength day, because even though it isn´t ¨resistance,¨ it has a similar training effect on the legs to do that kind of work because you use them powerfully instead of steadily. Anaerobic. Also good for a fat burning and cardio burst at the end of my workout.
I have also been good about stretching at the ends of my workouts more consistently and for longer periods of time. Not that 2 minutes all over wiggle and out the door. I *should* be doing some yoga, for the stretch and the calm more than the strength. I think I do enough strength training (although, yeah, I realize it´s a different type). But it´s harder than ever for me to have that quiet reflection time, so I flip and want off the mat. I try to make up for the lack of yoga in my life by doing more extended stretching and having more ¨active¨ reflective periods, like listening to music while drawing or writing. Asking myself to be on that mat for more than five minutes is just asking to much at this point. I need a teacher. Or I need to be teaching. I need to either be hearing someone else´s voice and having a new objective every few minutes to keep me focused and in the moment, or else be focused on getting everyone else through an hour. I get more out of it when I have a teacher, so that´s what I want right now. In lieu of that, I´m letting go of the self-judgment, and trying to make up for the benefits of yoga in other ways like I mentioned above.
I´m eating healthy, taking my vitamin, drinking plenty of water, not overdoing the caffeine, and sleeping well. So even minus the yoga, I´d say I´m doing OK for now. I´m happy with where I´m at in terms of my active, healthy lifestyle.
Monday- Heavy lift, 5-8´s, 75 minutes
Tuesday- 60 minute run, outside, abs at home
Wednesday- 40 minute recovery run, abs at home
Thursday- Moderate lift, 3-12´s, plus sprints, 60 minutes
Friday- rest
Saturday- 60 minute run on treadmill
Sunday- 30 minute run on treadmill, plus light abs, traps, and erector spinae
In review with analysis: I feel this was almost perfect. As far as lifting goes, I did a full body workout twice this week, one day more targeted at raw strength, one day more aimed towards maintaining strength over multiple repetitions. I feel that this is adequate to meet my goals. With the intensity to which I pushed myself, twice a week is sufficient. I want to be strong, but a body builder, so I think this is good. In regards to cardio, minus the walking I did around town (maybe Friday shouldn´t actually be listed as a rest day), it was exclusively running. I miss Zumba. I like to swim. But having one goal, improving speed over time gives me focus in my workouts. My goals is to run a few 10Ks this summer and ¨do my best.¨ That sounds like a wishy-washy goal, but I hate to have a goal time, because every course is different. That hell I endured on the steep, rocky footpaths in Coopers Rock last summer is sure to be different than a completely flat street race. So ¨my best¨ sounds like a good goal to me. I know I push myself hard no matter what and don´t need the added discipline of a ticking clock. So I had two long run days to build endurance, and I think I´ll stick with 2 1-hour runs per week as my hard days for 4-6 weeks, to give the body time to adjust. I never want to be a marathoner, so there is no reason to push myself beyond that time capacity sooner than that. You don´t want to go into a race not having run about 30% further than that distance at some point, so to do a 10K, I should have run 75-80 minutes straight a few times before I actually do it. And when I make my increases, it will be gradual. Two weeks at 65 minutes on one day, 60 the other, 70 and 60, and so on. No need for an injury. I took the recovery runs seriously this week, running easy on my two recovery days to get blood flow to the recovering muscles without placing excessive demands on them. These days weren´t aimed at calorie burn, strength increase, or improving my cardiovascular capacity beyond what it already was. Recovery. Plain and simple. And one day, my 3-12s with weights, I did sprints on the treadmill. For me, speed and strength on the race course is my biggest challenge. I´m a deer. I can run forever and sort of float along, but if I needed to kick it in, that´s tougher. That´s simple to tell by looking at me. Long limbed, meaning short muscle bellies (less power) in comparison to bone length. So by sprints what I mean is, I would walk, just... walk, 2 minutes on the treadmill and then sprint 1. I did this for 12 minutes, completing 4 sets. It seemed appropriate on a strength day, because even though it isn´t ¨resistance,¨ it has a similar training effect on the legs to do that kind of work because you use them powerfully instead of steadily. Anaerobic. Also good for a fat burning and cardio burst at the end of my workout.
I have also been good about stretching at the ends of my workouts more consistently and for longer periods of time. Not that 2 minutes all over wiggle and out the door. I *should* be doing some yoga, for the stretch and the calm more than the strength. I think I do enough strength training (although, yeah, I realize it´s a different type). But it´s harder than ever for me to have that quiet reflection time, so I flip and want off the mat. I try to make up for the lack of yoga in my life by doing more extended stretching and having more ¨active¨ reflective periods, like listening to music while drawing or writing. Asking myself to be on that mat for more than five minutes is just asking to much at this point. I need a teacher. Or I need to be teaching. I need to either be hearing someone else´s voice and having a new objective every few minutes to keep me focused and in the moment, or else be focused on getting everyone else through an hour. I get more out of it when I have a teacher, so that´s what I want right now. In lieu of that, I´m letting go of the self-judgment, and trying to make up for the benefits of yoga in other ways like I mentioned above.
I´m eating healthy, taking my vitamin, drinking plenty of water, not overdoing the caffeine, and sleeping well. So even minus the yoga, I´d say I´m doing OK for now. I´m happy with where I´m at in terms of my active, healthy lifestyle.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Asian chicken
OK. Mostly because I don´t want to forget this recipe, but also a little bit just because I am excited about the food. To deal with boredom and a case of the blah´s, I decided I needed to try out some new recipes to keep me interested. Food always calls me back to life in a way that hugs never can.
Anyway, so I found this recipe online called Mama´s Asian chicken. I´d link it here, but all I did was read it once and then make it however I wanted. Cooked some white rice. Put the following in a frying pan:
2 tbsp Heinz 57
3 tbsp soy sauce
2 crushed, minced garlic cloves
1/5 (ish) an onion, minced
¨some¨ crushed red pepper mix (or the closest thing I found to it here in Spain)
2 tbsp OrAnGe JuIcE (dont be afraid, i really think this is what made it)
¨some¨ olive oil
Sauteed that together
Then I cut up a little over a pound of chicken... recipe called for chicken breast, but it turned out just fine with thigh meat and was cheaper (more fattening, yes, but stfu.) Sauteed it all together for awhile... I think the recommendation for stir frying diced chicken is 7-8 minutes but due to my extreme paranoia over undercooked meat, I usually go for about double the time. Took 10 very long sugar snap peas (so probably need about 15 of what we have back home), cut them up into generous chunks, and fried that, too. Works better for the peas if covered, because they tend to remain tough. I didn´t have an adequate cover, so I just made an enormous mess by using a lid that was too small (and sitting it on the counter to stir every so often). Just goes to show you can use whatever you have around. Anyway, by belly is full. I fed my roommate. And now I´m going to bed fat and happy.
Oh yeah, and ObViOuSlY... to serve, put some rice on your plate and bathe it in the chicken/oil/flavory goodness/peas slop.
Anyway, so I found this recipe online called Mama´s Asian chicken. I´d link it here, but all I did was read it once and then make it however I wanted. Cooked some white rice. Put the following in a frying pan:
2 tbsp Heinz 57
3 tbsp soy sauce
2 crushed, minced garlic cloves
1/5 (ish) an onion, minced
¨some¨ crushed red pepper mix (or the closest thing I found to it here in Spain)
2 tbsp OrAnGe JuIcE (dont be afraid, i really think this is what made it)
¨some¨ olive oil
Sauteed that together
Then I cut up a little over a pound of chicken... recipe called for chicken breast, but it turned out just fine with thigh meat and was cheaper (more fattening, yes, but stfu.) Sauteed it all together for awhile... I think the recommendation for stir frying diced chicken is 7-8 minutes but due to my extreme paranoia over undercooked meat, I usually go for about double the time. Took 10 very long sugar snap peas (so probably need about 15 of what we have back home), cut them up into generous chunks, and fried that, too. Works better for the peas if covered, because they tend to remain tough. I didn´t have an adequate cover, so I just made an enormous mess by using a lid that was too small (and sitting it on the counter to stir every so often). Just goes to show you can use whatever you have around. Anyway, by belly is full. I fed my roommate. And now I´m going to bed fat and happy.
Oh yeah, and ObViOuSlY... to serve, put some rice on your plate and bathe it in the chicken/oil/flavory goodness/peas slop.
London Trip (Warning, this contains graphic language)
10:50pm... Valladolid airport
Clearly this is going to be an epic journey of hell, so I thought I should start chronicling it now. Our plane didn´t show up to Valladolid, and now we are sitting on a bus getting ready to depart for Santander... four f------ hours away to catch our plane to London. We´re hearing that it´s due to the fog that we have to go to Santander. My guess is the pilot was too drunk to make it or that there was a problem with the original plane they don´t want to admit to. Anyway, let´s back this up a little bit.
Last two nights I´ve slept like awful. So, knowing that I was bound for London today, I decided to pop an ativan for sleeping last night. It worked too well. I didn´t hear my alarm clock go off this morning... or aLEKS (i have no idea why im suddenly stuck in all caps right now... my computer seems to have just had an aneurysm. Fu----- beautiful. That is what i need on the way to santander on a four hour bus ride when i should landing in london in 15 minutes... f------ ryanair.) was calling me from the damn taxi downstairs. Ughh.... so i got up, completely panicked, threw a bunch of shit in a carry on (of course i forgot to pack underwear... contemplating whether i want to buy some new ones or just go commando all throughout my time in london...) and sprinted out to the taxi. For those who know me, you know it is impossible for me to function without coffee. So multiply that by about a million since im naturally a disorganized mess and was still processing a sedative out of my system. (I also realize i didnt pack a razor (and i need to shave), toothpaste, deodorant, or birth control pills... got my multivitamin though, dag gummit) Also, i didnt brush my hair, which also needs to be washed. I just put on an ecuadorian tobogan and went for it.
Fortunately, aleks was all chill and forgiving in the taxi. We got to the airport WITH NOT A LOT OF EXTRA TIME TO WASTE, BUT WE GOT OUR PASSPORTS STAMPED AND HEADED FOR SECURITY. GOING THROUGH SECURITY WAS JUST FANTASTIC. HAD TO TAKE OfF MY ECUADOR HAT. AND MY VERY SHORT HAIR WAS STICKING OUT IN SO MANY DIRECTIONS, INTERESTINGLY FRAMING MY UNWASHED FACE. I JUST DIDNT MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH ANYONE (AND TRIED NOT TO BREATHE IN ANYONES FACE WITH MY UNSCRUBBED CHOMPERS) AND GOT THROUGH IT. LEARNED THAT VALLADOLID AIRPORT SECURITY IS SHIT. SUPPOSED TO TAKE OUT PHONES BEFORE GOING THROUGH, MOST AIRPORTS WOULD STOP YOU IF YOU FAILED TO REMOVE IT FROM YOUR BAG, TO PROVE IT ISNT A BOMB. I THOUGHT ID FORGOTTEN MY PHONE AT HOME SO DIDNT TAKE IT OUT AND GOT THROUGH SECURITY JUST FINE. THEN THERES ANOTHER PASSPORT GUY, AND EVEN THOUGH I GOT BACK INTO THIS COUNTRY ON AN *EXPIRED VISA*, IN BUSTLING BARCELONA, IN VALLADOLID, THEY INSISTED ON SEEING MY RESIDENCY CARD BEFORE LETTING ME FLY OUT. NOT that THEY ACTUALLY LET US FLY OUT ANYWAY, OR I WOULDNT BE WRITING THIS. SO ABOUT 150 OF US ARE STANDING IN LINE IN THE ONLY BOARDING ROOM IN THE WHOLE AIRPORT AND SOME GARBLED ANNOUNCEMENT COMES ON. I UNDERSTAND NOTHING, BUT I HEAR PPL SAYING... BLAH BLAH BLAH AUTOBUS, JODER, AUTOBUS. THIS DOESNT SOUND GOOD SO I ASK THE DUDE IN FRONT OF US, AND HE EXPLAINS. WE ARE ALL LIKE "·$=)%?·$)!·="·$$%)·$%)))·$%.
AFTER WE WAIT 15 MINUTES AND THE BUS STILL ISNT THERE WE DECIDE... OK, FOOD. OBVIOUSLY NOTHING MATTERS ANYWAY. SO WE HAVE BREAKFAST BAGUETTES IN THE AIRPORT CAFETERIA AND EVENTUALLY THE FIRST BUS COMES. WE HEAD OUT, PUT OUR LUGGAGE ON DECK, AND THEN ARE TOLD TO REMOVE IT BECAUSE THE BUS IS FULL. OH ASS AND TITTIES!!! SO WE SPEND ANOTHER TEN MINUTES IN THE COLD WAITING FOR THE NEXT BUS. SECOND OUT OF 3 OR 4. IM PARANOICALLY STRADDLING MY SUITCASE WITH MY CALVES, HUGGING IT WITH MY LEGS TO TRY TO KEEP MY LAPTOP WARM... AND THEN THE BUS IS THERE AND ITS A DAMN STAMPEDE. IM CHEWING MY GLOVES OFF, STRUGGLING TO PULL MY COMPUTER, BOARDING PASS, AND PASSPORT FROM MY SUITCase, all while being trampled by 100 other angry ryanair customers. Getting onto the bus was like... a blood clot in a plaque filled, athersclerosis-siezed blood vessel- We all rushed the door at the same time. Everyone wanted to slit everyone elses throat, and there was just a lot of shoving. I am claustrophobic, and i particularly hate taking elbows to the boob, (which happens frequently in large crowds due to my height in comparison to the height of the average elbow when it is reaching about frantically) so that was an overall unpleasant experience.
Finally, we are on a bus. I have no idea how this is going to work in santander. I just want some underwear.
Finally we are on the plane. Got to santander in about 3.5 hours. Not bad except for the part where i should already be riding the london eye. Whatever. I saw some pretty mountains on the way hear. Apparently our bus driver was a light rock fan. He was playing it pretty loud, and since i was playing solitaire on my computer, an angry spanish woman to my left thought it was me who was playing the annoying music. She asked me to turn it down in that feigned politeness people use when they want a stranger to do something for them. I informed her it wasnt my music, and we went along listening.
In santander today its about 21º celsius, so my double layered columbia jacket and my ecuador hat were a bit much. Even when we got to santander, our plane wasnt here. I asked aleks, where is the plane?! She replied, oh there is no plane. Now people are stowing their bags in the overhead cabin storage, and the flight staff are being all like, please stow your luggage and take an empty seat as quickly as possible... as if as quickly as possible is really their motto around here. Aleks has filled me with a dreadful thought, so does this plane even work? Oh my, i am not sure if it does or not. Fortunately, all this excessive jet setting lately has worked to ease my once extreme flight anxiety. Now i just pretend to have flight anxiety and use the prescribed ativan for sleeping medication. F--k it. And here we go. Better turn this thing off until we have reached a ¨safe altitude to use approved electronic devices.¨
Well, that´s what I wrote on the way to London. It is now Monday evening, about 8pm, and I´m reporting the rest of the trip. London is altogether a very cool city. I would like to have more time to spend there getting to know the ins and outs of it. The first night, Aleks and I went to the King´s Cross Social Club, a cute little pub very close to the hostel. I ordered a beer right away, London Pale Ale. Well, it was a good beer, but I felt my wallet was completely raped at 4.20 pounds (a pound is worth 1.7 USD) for a pint. After that, we switched to wine, split a bottle of red. Some guys included us in their round of jager bombs shortly thereafter, and... they weren´t trying to get in our pants,lol... The one wanted dating advice about some woman he claimed to love after spending about 8 hours with her. Anyway, it was an interesting evening, nice to be able to converse freely with people without the worry of the language barrier. Plus, I feel like people there were more willing to come up and be social with us than here in Valladolid. So it was nice, and after the drinks and the long day of travel, we slept quite well. I got up for the free breakfast the following morning at the hostel. Then we were off to see the sights. We saw Big Ben, the London Eye (which was, tragically, not working, so I didn´t get to go up), Aleks got a tattoo (I wanted one, but not for an 80pound minimum when it´s something I can get for 40USD at home), Buckingham Palace (very underwhelming, and I found the guards to be stupid and annoying, sort of funny though). My old friend from college, Laurel, met us at the London Eye about 4pm, and from there we went to St. Paul´s Cathedral, saw Tower Bridge, walked past the globe theater, and met up with her boyfriend at a place called The Anchor for dinner. Aleks and I split some monstrosity of a fish and chips plate. It was good... a little bland... I know Brits are known for their terrible food, but it wasn´t so bad really. From there we walked around a bit more, and at Picadilly Circus, we saw some guys doing a break dancing demonstration. It was really cool to watch until the police broke it up, and then we dispersed to M&M World and went for a drink at a pub. Aleks and I, being frozen to the bone after a day of walking in freezing temperatures, got hot tea instead of alcohol.
On Sunday, so... yesterday, I got up for the breakfast again. Just due to overcrowding, I wound up eating with a guy who is from London now but originally from South Africa. He was talkative and had a lot to say about world economy. He was comical and interesting to talk to over my cocoa krispies and coffee and hot chocolate mix. Got online for a bit and then woke up Aleks and we took off for some more sight seeing. We went to Emirates Stadium (for her) and Covent Garden. From Covent Garden, we walked around a lot until we wound up back at Big Ben and then went to the Westminster Abbey. Since it was Sunday, we couldn´t enter the main church area without consenting to sitting through an hour and fifteen minutes service, so we just walked around the cloister area. That was odd and interesting. All these dead bodies buried under the walkways... We meandered up to Soho, which is the gay district, in search of this tattoo parlor we never found. Seems every time I am ready to let someone use a needle to decorate my flesh, it gets foiled. Oh well. Last night we cooked pasta in the hostel to save some money, so that was cool.
We slept about 2-3 hours and then called a cab to pick us up, take us to the bus station, which then took us to the airport. Our flight was at 6am, got into Valladolid at about 9.30, and back to my apartment around 10am. Napped a good bit, watched a new episode of ¨Desperate Housewives,¨ and talked extensively online with John. Went up to Carrefour for some groceries, and now I´m getting ready to go to the gym to get my fitness on.
Clearly this is going to be an epic journey of hell, so I thought I should start chronicling it now. Our plane didn´t show up to Valladolid, and now we are sitting on a bus getting ready to depart for Santander... four f------ hours away to catch our plane to London. We´re hearing that it´s due to the fog that we have to go to Santander. My guess is the pilot was too drunk to make it or that there was a problem with the original plane they don´t want to admit to. Anyway, let´s back this up a little bit.
Last two nights I´ve slept like awful. So, knowing that I was bound for London today, I decided to pop an ativan for sleeping last night. It worked too well. I didn´t hear my alarm clock go off this morning... or aLEKS (i have no idea why im suddenly stuck in all caps right now... my computer seems to have just had an aneurysm. Fu----- beautiful. That is what i need on the way to santander on a four hour bus ride when i should landing in london in 15 minutes... f------ ryanair.) was calling me from the damn taxi downstairs. Ughh.... so i got up, completely panicked, threw a bunch of shit in a carry on (of course i forgot to pack underwear... contemplating whether i want to buy some new ones or just go commando all throughout my time in london...) and sprinted out to the taxi. For those who know me, you know it is impossible for me to function without coffee. So multiply that by about a million since im naturally a disorganized mess and was still processing a sedative out of my system. (I also realize i didnt pack a razor (and i need to shave), toothpaste, deodorant, or birth control pills... got my multivitamin though, dag gummit) Also, i didnt brush my hair, which also needs to be washed. I just put on an ecuadorian tobogan and went for it.
Fortunately, aleks was all chill and forgiving in the taxi. We got to the airport WITH NOT A LOT OF EXTRA TIME TO WASTE, BUT WE GOT OUR PASSPORTS STAMPED AND HEADED FOR SECURITY. GOING THROUGH SECURITY WAS JUST FANTASTIC. HAD TO TAKE OfF MY ECUADOR HAT. AND MY VERY SHORT HAIR WAS STICKING OUT IN SO MANY DIRECTIONS, INTERESTINGLY FRAMING MY UNWASHED FACE. I JUST DIDNT MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH ANYONE (AND TRIED NOT TO BREATHE IN ANYONES FACE WITH MY UNSCRUBBED CHOMPERS) AND GOT THROUGH IT. LEARNED THAT VALLADOLID AIRPORT SECURITY IS SHIT. SUPPOSED TO TAKE OUT PHONES BEFORE GOING THROUGH, MOST AIRPORTS WOULD STOP YOU IF YOU FAILED TO REMOVE IT FROM YOUR BAG, TO PROVE IT ISNT A BOMB. I THOUGHT ID FORGOTTEN MY PHONE AT HOME SO DIDNT TAKE IT OUT AND GOT THROUGH SECURITY JUST FINE. THEN THERES ANOTHER PASSPORT GUY, AND EVEN THOUGH I GOT BACK INTO THIS COUNTRY ON AN *EXPIRED VISA*, IN BUSTLING BARCELONA, IN VALLADOLID, THEY INSISTED ON SEEING MY RESIDENCY CARD BEFORE LETTING ME FLY OUT. NOT that THEY ACTUALLY LET US FLY OUT ANYWAY, OR I WOULDNT BE WRITING THIS. SO ABOUT 150 OF US ARE STANDING IN LINE IN THE ONLY BOARDING ROOM IN THE WHOLE AIRPORT AND SOME GARBLED ANNOUNCEMENT COMES ON. I UNDERSTAND NOTHING, BUT I HEAR PPL SAYING... BLAH BLAH BLAH AUTOBUS, JODER, AUTOBUS. THIS DOESNT SOUND GOOD SO I ASK THE DUDE IN FRONT OF US, AND HE EXPLAINS. WE ARE ALL LIKE "·$=)%?·$)!·="·$$%)·$%)))·$%.
AFTER WE WAIT 15 MINUTES AND THE BUS STILL ISNT THERE WE DECIDE... OK, FOOD. OBVIOUSLY NOTHING MATTERS ANYWAY. SO WE HAVE BREAKFAST BAGUETTES IN THE AIRPORT CAFETERIA AND EVENTUALLY THE FIRST BUS COMES. WE HEAD OUT, PUT OUR LUGGAGE ON DECK, AND THEN ARE TOLD TO REMOVE IT BECAUSE THE BUS IS FULL. OH ASS AND TITTIES!!! SO WE SPEND ANOTHER TEN MINUTES IN THE COLD WAITING FOR THE NEXT BUS. SECOND OUT OF 3 OR 4. IM PARANOICALLY STRADDLING MY SUITCASE WITH MY CALVES, HUGGING IT WITH MY LEGS TO TRY TO KEEP MY LAPTOP WARM... AND THEN THE BUS IS THERE AND ITS A DAMN STAMPEDE. IM CHEWING MY GLOVES OFF, STRUGGLING TO PULL MY COMPUTER, BOARDING PASS, AND PASSPORT FROM MY SUITCase, all while being trampled by 100 other angry ryanair customers. Getting onto the bus was like... a blood clot in a plaque filled, athersclerosis-siezed blood vessel- We all rushed the door at the same time. Everyone wanted to slit everyone elses throat, and there was just a lot of shoving. I am claustrophobic, and i particularly hate taking elbows to the boob, (which happens frequently in large crowds due to my height in comparison to the height of the average elbow when it is reaching about frantically) so that was an overall unpleasant experience.
Finally, we are on a bus. I have no idea how this is going to work in santander. I just want some underwear.
Finally we are on the plane. Got to santander in about 3.5 hours. Not bad except for the part where i should already be riding the london eye. Whatever. I saw some pretty mountains on the way hear. Apparently our bus driver was a light rock fan. He was playing it pretty loud, and since i was playing solitaire on my computer, an angry spanish woman to my left thought it was me who was playing the annoying music. She asked me to turn it down in that feigned politeness people use when they want a stranger to do something for them. I informed her it wasnt my music, and we went along listening.
In santander today its about 21º celsius, so my double layered columbia jacket and my ecuador hat were a bit much. Even when we got to santander, our plane wasnt here. I asked aleks, where is the plane?! She replied, oh there is no plane. Now people are stowing their bags in the overhead cabin storage, and the flight staff are being all like, please stow your luggage and take an empty seat as quickly as possible... as if as quickly as possible is really their motto around here. Aleks has filled me with a dreadful thought, so does this plane even work? Oh my, i am not sure if it does or not. Fortunately, all this excessive jet setting lately has worked to ease my once extreme flight anxiety. Now i just pretend to have flight anxiety and use the prescribed ativan for sleeping medication. F--k it. And here we go. Better turn this thing off until we have reached a ¨safe altitude to use approved electronic devices.¨
Well, that´s what I wrote on the way to London. It is now Monday evening, about 8pm, and I´m reporting the rest of the trip. London is altogether a very cool city. I would like to have more time to spend there getting to know the ins and outs of it. The first night, Aleks and I went to the King´s Cross Social Club, a cute little pub very close to the hostel. I ordered a beer right away, London Pale Ale. Well, it was a good beer, but I felt my wallet was completely raped at 4.20 pounds (a pound is worth 1.7 USD) for a pint. After that, we switched to wine, split a bottle of red. Some guys included us in their round of jager bombs shortly thereafter, and... they weren´t trying to get in our pants,lol... The one wanted dating advice about some woman he claimed to love after spending about 8 hours with her. Anyway, it was an interesting evening, nice to be able to converse freely with people without the worry of the language barrier. Plus, I feel like people there were more willing to come up and be social with us than here in Valladolid. So it was nice, and after the drinks and the long day of travel, we slept quite well. I got up for the free breakfast the following morning at the hostel. Then we were off to see the sights. We saw Big Ben, the London Eye (which was, tragically, not working, so I didn´t get to go up), Aleks got a tattoo (I wanted one, but not for an 80pound minimum when it´s something I can get for 40USD at home), Buckingham Palace (very underwhelming, and I found the guards to be stupid and annoying, sort of funny though). My old friend from college, Laurel, met us at the London Eye about 4pm, and from there we went to St. Paul´s Cathedral, saw Tower Bridge, walked past the globe theater, and met up with her boyfriend at a place called The Anchor for dinner. Aleks and I split some monstrosity of a fish and chips plate. It was good... a little bland... I know Brits are known for their terrible food, but it wasn´t so bad really. From there we walked around a bit more, and at Picadilly Circus, we saw some guys doing a break dancing demonstration. It was really cool to watch until the police broke it up, and then we dispersed to M&M World and went for a drink at a pub. Aleks and I, being frozen to the bone after a day of walking in freezing temperatures, got hot tea instead of alcohol.
On Sunday, so... yesterday, I got up for the breakfast again. Just due to overcrowding, I wound up eating with a guy who is from London now but originally from South Africa. He was talkative and had a lot to say about world economy. He was comical and interesting to talk to over my cocoa krispies and coffee and hot chocolate mix. Got online for a bit and then woke up Aleks and we took off for some more sight seeing. We went to Emirates Stadium (for her) and Covent Garden. From Covent Garden, we walked around a lot until we wound up back at Big Ben and then went to the Westminster Abbey. Since it was Sunday, we couldn´t enter the main church area without consenting to sitting through an hour and fifteen minutes service, so we just walked around the cloister area. That was odd and interesting. All these dead bodies buried under the walkways... We meandered up to Soho, which is the gay district, in search of this tattoo parlor we never found. Seems every time I am ready to let someone use a needle to decorate my flesh, it gets foiled. Oh well. Last night we cooked pasta in the hostel to save some money, so that was cool.
We slept about 2-3 hours and then called a cab to pick us up, take us to the bus station, which then took us to the airport. Our flight was at 6am, got into Valladolid at about 9.30, and back to my apartment around 10am. Napped a good bit, watched a new episode of ¨Desperate Housewives,¨ and talked extensively online with John. Went up to Carrefour for some groceries, and now I´m getting ready to go to the gym to get my fitness on.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
There is that moment
on waking in the wilderness when
you realize your stakes are coming up
the earth resists your permanence
and you'll have to move along.
And you love this place,
its smell, its mossy texture,
its crystal cold water
chilling, thrilling the tongue.
You love the spring green leaves
playing with the wind
but that same wind
is blowing you away
and you can't stay
you can't inhale sweet fern
can't slide your tired body
down a tree's rough bark
and rest in what's been your home.
Your soul, always out distancing body
has begun her move
and your feet can't do anything else
but follow.
Now the soil is not yours,
the river is not yours,
that clear blue sky is not yours,
and somehow
you no longer care.
on waking in the wilderness when
you realize your stakes are coming up
the earth resists your permanence
and you'll have to move along.
And you love this place,
its smell, its mossy texture,
its crystal cold water
chilling, thrilling the tongue.
You love the spring green leaves
playing with the wind
but that same wind
is blowing you away
and you can't stay
you can't inhale sweet fern
can't slide your tired body
down a tree's rough bark
and rest in what's been your home.
Your soul, always out distancing body
has begun her move
and your feet can't do anything else
but follow.
Now the soil is not yours,
the river is not yours,
that clear blue sky is not yours,
and somehow
you no longer care.
Monday, January 2, 2012
This land is mine
I'm lying in the grass
dew penetrates my clothes
on the riverbank
and out the corner of my eye
chunks of asphalt fall
into the river
wash away smearing oil
and I'm crying.
You used to be so beautiful.
I used to travel your swells and dips
I was a butterfly on a wind.
And they've raped you now
you're not the same
I see you change a little more each day
and I want to hurl myself out the window
lie against your surface, wail wildly
til you hear me
I still see you.
I see you disappearing
I see them ignoring you disappearing
and I want to grip you
and hold you real
My arms are not wide enough.
And I dream of rivers,
filled with oil.
I dream of flames
consuming me running barefoot out of the woods
everyone is falling
And I just run.
And you're not the same.
And I miss the you you were.
And I can't save you.
And I just thought you should know.
I see you.
dew penetrates my clothes
on the riverbank
and out the corner of my eye
chunks of asphalt fall
into the river
wash away smearing oil
and I'm crying.
You used to be so beautiful.
I used to travel your swells and dips
I was a butterfly on a wind.
And they've raped you now
you're not the same
I see you change a little more each day
and I want to hurl myself out the window
lie against your surface, wail wildly
til you hear me
I still see you.
I see you disappearing
I see them ignoring you disappearing
and I want to grip you
and hold you real
My arms are not wide enough.
And I dream of rivers,
filled with oil.
I dream of flames
consuming me running barefoot out of the woods
everyone is falling
And I just run.
And you're not the same.
And I miss the you you were.
And I can't save you.
And I just thought you should know.
I see you.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Love and Pizza
Well, Happy New Year, all! I really haven't kept up with this thing but decided to post this morning. There are two holidays throughout the year that always give me pause and make me think... Thanksgiving and New Year's. Never hurts to think of what you're thankful for nor to look forward to a new year with hope. I am waking up to coffee and three of my favorite people still asleep here in the trailer. I rang in the new year with old friends and was dancing Danza Kuduro shortly after the ball dropped, so I'm thinking... this oughtn't be too bad.
So... looking back to 2011. In January I was working on my second semester of graduate school. I was teaching my second round of students how to speak basic Spanish and continuing to teach my fitness classes. In 2011 I taught at Healthworks, CRH, and CTA. It was a year of Bollywood and Zumba. I met some great girls doing that Bollywood performance, and the music, movement, and warmth did a lot for my heart. I started participating in the Morgantown drum circle, and that has been great. I love just making unplanned music with people, and I love that I've made new friends doing it. As with every year, I spent a lot of time kayaking around Cheat Lake in the summer with Joe. That is always excellent. For the first time in maybe ever, I had some steady workout pals in 2011. Was much more motivating and fun to have Arty, Rachel, and Emily around. Somewhere in the spring I learned I would be going to Spain. It wasn't so much an option as it was... as soon as it was presented, I knew I would be going. I was scared and excited, scared to be leaving John for the better part of nine months straight, excited to FiNaLlY get that immersion opportunity... and the opportunity to go figure out how to be strong on my own. What else about 2011? Well, I think I continued to improve at finding that ever elusive ideal of balance. I didn't get all A's in 2011, but I stayed healthy and maintained friendships and other interests, as well. I played a little more piano than I had in recent past years, and I don't regret that at all. I learned what a bonafide pain in the ass getting a student visa and temporary residency card for Spain is, but in the end, I pulled myself crying off of John at the gate of the Pittsburgh airport and flew away for awhile. Landing in Spain was overwhelming in many ways, and the first segment of this adventure has been largely about adjustment... adjustment to hearing more of a language other than my native tongue on a regular basis, adjustment to a new roommate, to being really, truly alone. Walking into the first meeting with the other instructors was intense. Most everyone was 20ish years older than me and speaking really fast Spanish. But eventually I settled into it, and I've made some good friends in Valladolid. I've traveled to Granada, Madrid, and Rome with those friends. So 2 major items can be checked off the bucket list now- visiting Italy and going off and living abroad for awhile. I'm getting stronger. I feel it a little more every day. I don't mean in the gym- I mean, I'm coping better with life. There's something about going off and learning to deal with being really and truly alone and then making friends you know you aren't going to see much if ever again beyond the 9-month stint you all have in a foreign country together. You learn to live in the moment. Every day you get up and get moving and don't let the fear consume you, you've accomplished something, and that necessity... to just make it... sort of forces you to celebrate the small victories.
ALSO in 2011... we got Jupiter!!! I love that cat. After Artemis I thought no pet could be as special as she was (it's hard to compete with a cat that goes swimming in the bathtub and births her kittens right by your head in the middle of the night), but Jupiter has been awesome. He puts us to bed, he wakes us up, and he is the most affectionate cat I've ever had or known. Also, the cute factor makes me feel like my head is going to explode on a frequent basis.
Oh yeah... I was working at Barnes and Noble again in 2011, May to August. It was good to have the opportunity to be back there. I really love that place. It's been one of the best work environments I've ever been in, mostly because of the people. Everyone there is interesting and warm. Plus, I really love using the espresso machine. If being a barista paid more than minimum wage, I don't think I would feel a need to do anything else with my life.
At the beginning of 2011, I set some goals for myself. I think it's odd to call it a resolution, as if there is something unresolved. That sort of.. makes it sound negative from the get go. Anyway, I had decided that 1. I would be able to do 100 push ups straight by the end of the year, 2. I would find a natural solution to my chronic back pain, 3. I would get to a point where I could be accepting of myself and just let myself live without feeling some deep-down need to apologize for who I am, and 4. I really don't remember what 4 was, so clearly it wasn't important. I still cannot do 100 push ups in row. I think I got to about 42 consecutive push ups in March or April before I decided I was tired of doing push ups and that it didn't matter. Being a fitness instructor, I was also concerned about over-training my chest muscles without balancing it in the back, and as I didn't have time to incorporate 100 rear flies or the like in every workout and still be able to meet my other fitness goals (because my outlook is that I get fit to live, not the other way around and I'm never going to spend 2+ hours a day in the gym, unless I'm teaching that many classes), I decided to let it go. It doesn't matter. I don't feel that I've majorly disappointed myself. I have continued to stay active and healthy, and that's what really counts. I haven't found a way for my back not to hurt either. It isn't debilitating, so it's not a huge deal. Regular exercise seems to be the most helpful thing. Clearly, yoga would be most useful, but sometimes you have to be real... I am not at a place in my life anymore where I can spend 30 to 60 minutes calmly alone on my mat. I've tried to force it. It doesn't happen. I don't feel Zen, I feel like jumping out of my skin. I'd try to reset this goal for 2011, but I know I won't follow it. Right now, it's just forcing something that is unnatural to me so whatever. As for #3, I would say that I'm definitely a lot more OK with me than I was at the beginning of the year. I don't know how to explain this really... I probably put more pressure on myself than other people put on me. I just have a tendency to be places doing things and worrying... who I'm not with or taking care of or being present to as I "should." I'm a wanderer in more ways than one. My location and ideas are always changing, and I guess I got to a point where I decided I wasn't allowed to change anymore so that growth got uncomfortable. There's been some level of guilt for thinking this and not that and just for being a mover. I feel that some people would like for me to just hold still, quit fidgeting through life, but there is just so damn much out there. If I want to be kayaking, I'm going kayaking. If I want to fly off to another country, I'm going to fly off to another country (so interesting that this was a thought even before I knew Spain was an option), if I want to believe that a lot of the lies we feed ourselves are bullshit, I'm just going to believe it. I'm not going to cut myself down for not believing in fairy tales or for not being moved by things the majority of others find to be so fascinating. For crying out loud, I visited the Sistine Chapel in December, and I was standing there thinking about pizza. I looked around, tried to get wowed, but I thought... what would really wow me is some pizza. I guess this just seems to be such an illustrative example of the way I function. I mean... I'm into art. But I'm into art the way I'm into music and food and dance. I don't care too much for training or standing in awe of what's already been created (not to say I don't appreciate what's been created), I would much rather be in the process of creating. And I guess when I'm sitting at a table in the Vatican city having a piece of pizza, folks buzzing all around me, I feel I'm tasting and feeling the life of the people so much more than when I'm looking at some paintings. The Sistine Chapel was beautiful. The paintings were great. I preferred sitting at the Trevi Fountain, stuffing my face with pizza and gelatto, observing as people walked to the fountain, coins in hand, making their wishes. I wondered what their wishes were. I love piano. I don't love researching dead composers or learning theory. I like to sit and play and hear the sounds that are coming from within my self. I like when other people play for or near me. I like the fact that their souls are coming out in sound and filling the air around us. The most moving experiences I had in Madrid were passing by a stringed quartet that was playing in the street at night... it just moved me the way there was no reason for them to be there other than they just wanted to fill up the air with music. And it enhanced the quality of the evening for thousands of people passing by that night. It's a beautiful thing. And then... the next day, walking towards the city center and a Hindu band was chanting prayers about Krishna as they walked along playing drums. I woman in a white saree handed out naan (sp) as they walked by. And I love food. I don't love fancy shit that costs more than I make in a week. I love the process of food, preparing it, preferably with other people, smelling it as its cooking, listening to the grease popping, the fan going, and finally savoring it. Yes, you can savor a cheap plate of homemade spaghetti. Dance... I love dance. I dance all the time, in my head, in my room, in Zumba, in the club. I haven't had much training... I had that one semester of ballet, and I was genuinely good at it, but it lacked something for me... I thought it was a fascinating idea, everyone sort of dressed in anonymous leotards, even their hair conforming to a dress code, the only thing differentiating one ballerina from another being their actual bodies and manner of movement. But, for me, it didn't seem anything was being danced but the training itself there. I love to go out and just go crazy dancing, and yeah, I look like a fool but I don't care. I love to choreograph my own bits for Zumba, and I love more than anything when my choreography is well received, danced by 20 people at a time, smiling, sweating, and setting themselves free for an hour. It's beautiful and it makes me high. I guess that's the cool thing about dance fitness and teaching it... I'm under no obligation to incorporate technical moves I know nothing about. As long as I make people sweat, I'm in the clear. If I can weave something a little more, the better. And I guess I had some anxiety over feeling the same way about my engagement. John and I have been engaged for four years. People are always asking, have you set a date, when are you getting married, are you even getting married? It makes me feel like my head is going to fall off. We're together. We live together, we share a life, a cat, and our bills. This has been going on for a good while. It sounded so weird to hear people congratulating us on our engagement as if NOW it counted, NOW it was real, NOW we could rest. I'm not a fairy tale person. I have been through and seen too much shit to ever go for fairy tales. I like to keep it very real. What makes John and me strong as a couple isn't some fantasy love story... nope... the shit we've been through, I really am not at liberty to disclose it all, but it's been rough, and getting through it... that's what's made us. We've seen and experienced enough that finding a job, graduating, purchasing a car here soon... seems like small potatoes, and also like sitting down to a dinner at home together or with family and friends, peacefully, is really something to celebrate and not to be overlooked. Whatever. I just know all that's going to be fine and don't care too much. I can live happily on minimum wage, and while I'm not glorifying poverty, what I am saying is that... there's a lot of stuff that we worry about that just does not matter. And being where I've been, I know it's all going to be fine. So I guess my view is just that... marching me down an aisle all clad in some white dress like a f------- porcelain doll for everyone to gawk and and take pictures of is so non representative of anything in our relationship. I'm pretty sure that if we had some formal reception or dinner, we'd try hard to behave but ultimately fail by making some off-color, perverse, or generally disgusting joke or comment. So... why bother? We are what we are, and I don't want to pretend we are something we aren't. And I have no idea, in retrospect, why I would have ever felt guilty about that, or about being someone who thinks about scoring some pizza when I should be appreciating the art in the Sistine Chapel. To me it makes sense and doesn't detract from my experience of life, rather makes it richer. We all have our own experience, and mine is what it is. I'm not making any apologies. I've made progress this year, and I'm glad of it.
In 2012, my goal will be simply to love more. Sometimes I'm a little retentive about being very open or warm with people. The thing is, I didn't used to be. I was the most out-reaching, deep down true loving sort of person, and then I realized... I sort of freak people out. I'm an intimate soul, and I just don't care about the new dress and matching heels you just bought, the new car, and DEFINITELY NOT your damn iPhone or Mac computer. I want you to sit down, tell me who you are, and let me love you. Yup, I'm just like that with everyone. It is so instinctual for me to just want to know everything about you, whoever you are, from the first time we talk. And then I want to let you know you're fascinating and fabulous and that I love you. I am like a dog. And I guess I understand why that's off putting to some folks. I really don't like when I go to someone's house and their dog is jumping on me, their little hard toe nails digging into my pant legs. And maybe I can learn and back off and try not to overwhelm people, but I have gone too far in the other direction, very rigidly maintaining my distance and being a little too conscientious about not being "awkward" or making people "uncomfortable." And probably the constant rejection of my hyper bouncing version of immediate affection for everyone I ever met made me timid. It's just such a natural state of being for me that when everyone else wasn't the same way, I was confused. When people didn't immediately want to call me back, hang out again, or generally be my friend, it made me rather depressed. And it has been such a process, coming down from that high, innocent love of someone who was very late indeed in learning that most people just aren't like that. At first, I was just incredibly disappointed in people, in human nature. I couldn't understand, in a world where everyone is so craving love, why people didn't give it a little more freely. Why was everyone so anal retentive about giving a little heart and soul to people? Why not just let it go? Anyway, I'm just quite tired of talking with a filter in my mouth. If I want to tell you you're a beautiful person, I'm just going to say it and not worry too much if you look at me like I just bit a scorpion's butt. I want to just let it go. It doesn't help me, and it doesn't help you if I'm only being as sincere as polite society permits. So I'm sorry if I scare you. I'll try not to jump on you when you walk through the door. I'll try to be that dog that walks to the door but doesn't jump, that sits at your feet and eventually sits beside you once you've relaxed... like an old retriever maybe... but... Dear Universe and People who live in it, I do not want to stop loving you. Loving you keeps me alive, and sometimes you just have to trust that what you're doing is what you're meant to be doing. 2012... live in love, you beautiful people.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Advent Day 1 (well, for me)
So it´s Advent, a season that, when I was Catholic, I loved a lot. I loved the images of light in the dark, I loved the pre-Christmas songs. I loved the joy of the season, because let´s face it... most of the rest of the liturgical year is about how screwed up and nearly irredemable but for Jesus we all are. Anyway, I can´t call myself truly Catholic anymore, but I want to do something for Advent this year.
If you think about it, Advent is just about light and goodness coming into a dark world. Just think of the imagery... dark, cold night in depraved conditions, and BOOM, there´s a warm, fleshy baby Jesus, and suddenly there´s light in the picture (as if stables had electricity in 0 aD)... light radiating from the baby, light from the heavens to the baby, and everyone´s happy. We all need a little light in the dark places of our lives. Well, I can´t content myself to wait for Jesus... Rilke had a nice quote about the birth pangs of the divine, how we all cumulatively bring God into the world. Basically... we should strive for goodness, realize it will be less than comfortable to bring it into being, and try to bring it in anyway.
So for Advent, I want to do one good deed a day, small or big. And the challenge will be that... I´m in a different country. I can´t predict my days, so I just have to be ready, with a mindset to help. I got started today. I was walking toward the city centre to get some passport photos taken for my visa renewal. On the way, I noticed a woman about my age sitting with her back against a building, covered in a blanket, huddled down in a parka and scarf, begging. I´m as skeptical as the next person about beggars. I wonder... are they doing this just to avoid work? Are they going to go buy alcohol? I don´t like giving money. But on the way back from my photos, I stopped in a grocery store to get some things I needed. On the way back, I handed her half my bread. She thanked me. Obviously I didn´t feel that I´d done anything special. In fact, I felt kinda crappy I couldn´t do more. I always wonder if it´s insulting to be handed a piece of bread. I mean, she´s begging, but still... I don´t think 250 calories is going to make much of a dent in her hunger. Well, I´m not in a position to do much more than that. So that´s why I´m trying to start small, with that which I can do. I know that one act changes very little, but maybe someone saw me and will think to do the same somewhere for someone else. Maybe the girl herself will be inspired to action (I´m aware sometimes there is no action to be taken.). Sometimes you can´t do much to change a situation. That doesn´t mean to ignore it. It takes a city.
If you think about it, Advent is just about light and goodness coming into a dark world. Just think of the imagery... dark, cold night in depraved conditions, and BOOM, there´s a warm, fleshy baby Jesus, and suddenly there´s light in the picture (as if stables had electricity in 0 aD)... light radiating from the baby, light from the heavens to the baby, and everyone´s happy. We all need a little light in the dark places of our lives. Well, I can´t content myself to wait for Jesus... Rilke had a nice quote about the birth pangs of the divine, how we all cumulatively bring God into the world. Basically... we should strive for goodness, realize it will be less than comfortable to bring it into being, and try to bring it in anyway.
So for Advent, I want to do one good deed a day, small or big. And the challenge will be that... I´m in a different country. I can´t predict my days, so I just have to be ready, with a mindset to help. I got started today. I was walking toward the city centre to get some passport photos taken for my visa renewal. On the way, I noticed a woman about my age sitting with her back against a building, covered in a blanket, huddled down in a parka and scarf, begging. I´m as skeptical as the next person about beggars. I wonder... are they doing this just to avoid work? Are they going to go buy alcohol? I don´t like giving money. But on the way back from my photos, I stopped in a grocery store to get some things I needed. On the way back, I handed her half my bread. She thanked me. Obviously I didn´t feel that I´d done anything special. In fact, I felt kinda crappy I couldn´t do more. I always wonder if it´s insulting to be handed a piece of bread. I mean, she´s begging, but still... I don´t think 250 calories is going to make much of a dent in her hunger. Well, I´m not in a position to do much more than that. So that´s why I´m trying to start small, with that which I can do. I know that one act changes very little, but maybe someone saw me and will think to do the same somewhere for someone else. Maybe the girl herself will be inspired to action (I´m aware sometimes there is no action to be taken.). Sometimes you can´t do much to change a situation. That doesn´t mean to ignore it. It takes a city.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Granada
Woke up at 9 am in Granada, freezing in my hostel bed. Went downstairs and was the first to help myself to three bowls of corn flakes, coffee, and orange juice for breakfast. I had to wake up to go get it, but if you know me and my need for calories, you know why it was important for me to go.
We rode in on a bus yesterday about noon. After spending all night on the bus, most of us were hungry, dehydrated, and exhausted. This didn´t stop us from splitting into groups, the first of which went to the Alhambra. I was in the first group, so I went. Our other group goes today. It´s one of those moments I wish I knew more about history. I know it was significant in the cutlure clash between Moors and Catholics in the 1300s and 1400s, but beyond that it´s hard to appreciate the significance without knowing more. Nonetheless, it was truly beautiful and we took a lot of pictures. They will appear online when I am back at my apartment as I haven´t brought my camera cable with me here.
Last night we went on a tapas tour around the city, which was good as we were all starving. Aleks and I wound up with a group of Erasmus mostly from Madrid, so we met some new people. A few girls from Sweden and Switzerland. For once, we weren´t the only ¨rubias¨ running around.
The discoteca that we went to first was ¨OK.¨ I love dancing, but I need someone to dance with. They were playing so much salsa and merengue, and it was killing me because it´s like oh come onnnnnnnnnnn, someone PLEASE know how to do this!!!
Most everyone else went on to a second club, but Aleks and I taxied back early because we were kinda bored and tired with it. Maybe we´ll survive longer tonigt. Anyway, we´re headed out to buy a coat for her and snacks for me. Tour of the city on foot starts at 4.30.
We rode in on a bus yesterday about noon. After spending all night on the bus, most of us were hungry, dehydrated, and exhausted. This didn´t stop us from splitting into groups, the first of which went to the Alhambra. I was in the first group, so I went. Our other group goes today. It´s one of those moments I wish I knew more about history. I know it was significant in the cutlure clash between Moors and Catholics in the 1300s and 1400s, but beyond that it´s hard to appreciate the significance without knowing more. Nonetheless, it was truly beautiful and we took a lot of pictures. They will appear online when I am back at my apartment as I haven´t brought my camera cable with me here.
Last night we went on a tapas tour around the city, which was good as we were all starving. Aleks and I wound up with a group of Erasmus mostly from Madrid, so we met some new people. A few girls from Sweden and Switzerland. For once, we weren´t the only ¨rubias¨ running around.
The discoteca that we went to first was ¨OK.¨ I love dancing, but I need someone to dance with. They were playing so much salsa and merengue, and it was killing me because it´s like oh come onnnnnnnnnnn, someone PLEASE know how to do this!!!
Most everyone else went on to a second club, but Aleks and I taxied back early because we were kinda bored and tired with it. Maybe we´ll survive longer tonigt. Anyway, we´re headed out to buy a coat for her and snacks for me. Tour of the city on foot starts at 4.30.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Midnight sparrow
Another night--
commiserating with the ceiling
who I´ll be in the morning,
which self I´ll leave
slobbering on the pillow.
And the cars that pass by--
they keep going somewhere,
past the cemetery, past the stop light,
past the self they left,
waving in the driveway.
A stranger´s piano music--
measured in kilobytes
instead of common time,
does its best to ease
this dilemma for the night.
But my soul always sliding--
out that window,
where a midnight sparrow chirps,
takes wing, always double
in a world of singularities.
commiserating with the ceiling
who I´ll be in the morning,
which self I´ll leave
slobbering on the pillow.
And the cars that pass by--
they keep going somewhere,
past the cemetery, past the stop light,
past the self they left,
waving in the driveway.
A stranger´s piano music--
measured in kilobytes
instead of common time,
does its best to ease
this dilemma for the night.
But my soul always sliding--
out that window,
where a midnight sparrow chirps,
takes wing, always double
in a world of singularities.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Every morning you wake up...
¨Never give in. Never give in. Never, never, never. In nothing great or small, large or petty, never give in except to convictions of honor and good sense. Never yield to force, never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.¨ -Winston Churchill
This quote really resonates with me, because my whole life... I guess I´ve been a bit stubborn on things where I sense an abuse of power or might. I relentlessly petitioned my elementary school teacher for things like excessive demands (as a sixth grader, I tested at a high school senior´s reading level and therefore was only permitted to read books above my maturity level, and I also had to read more than people at lower levels. When I failed to read and test on some one thousand odd pages every month, I had to sit and read in the office, and this happened to several of us), the right to have a Valentine´s Day Party, anything my child self found important.
Now, it´s bigger topics, and I don´t always feel as involved as I could or should be. There´s a lot of protesting going on in my state right now about the Marcellus drilling. I am grateful to those who are protesting and attempting to keep those in charge in check. For my part, however, I haven´t been as involved as I could be maybe. I went to a letter writing event, signed some petitions. On my drive home from Morgantown over the last couple years, I´ve watched the landscape change. What used to be seventy-two miles of the most heart-lifting drive I´ve ever known is now punctuated by drill sites, trucks that are too big for the roads. They´re contaminating our water, ruining our roads, and really... endangering the life of every motorist who uses the road. Like I said, those trucks are just too big. They can´t handle those turns without going left of center, and given all the windy blind turns on Route 7... it´s a death trap. They are talking about putting a plant in close to my home, which would create about two hundred jobs. God knows we need them, but... at what price? I know people are struggling to keep the heat on and food on the table. I´m not too proud to admit that for awhile when my dad´s plant was on strike, we accepted food from a pantry, that the local gym waived our membership fee, that my piano teacher let me come a few times without paying. And I haven´t even felt the brunt of it. I see people I love going without medicine they need, living in the constant anxiety of the heat being shut off, surviving on macaroni and cheese and hot dogs because food that would be more nourishing is too expensive. This is clearly a problem... and not a sob story. I´m talking about people who are willing and able to work, but there just aren´t enough jobs. So this Marcellus drilling plant seems like a good idea, right?... It may be a temporary solution for some people who are on the brink of collapse, but in the long run... it´ll poison our water (and let´s keep in mind that we already can´t eat the fish out of that river), and without water, we´ll eventually be even more bound by this damnable tradition of economic slavery we have in the valley. Our people do back-busting jobs for 12- and 16- hour days, and can still barely make ends meet? Something doesn´t add up here, people...
Then I think about Wall Street and the Occupy movement. I woke up yesterday to news of a police raid happening in the middle of the night. And I think how grateful I am to the people who are there and in the encampments throughout the United States, trying to make a stand for economic justice, because let´s face it... our middle class isn´t just disappearing... it´s already almost entirely gone. The poor are getting poorer while the rich are getting richer. I´m all for a simple life. I don´t need designer tags or long strands of pearls, but I do need to eat, I do need clean water, and I do need enough money to pay rent and medical bills. Anyone working in a free and modern country shouldn´t have to struggle for at least that much. And these protestors are trying to insure that for us. We´ve been talking about the imminence of class warfare for awhile. Well, I think it´s coming... unless enough of us bottom-feeders can link up and actually work together, not punking out when someone comes along and offers to appease us with a few hundred a week... to destroy our own land. Are you kidding me? No, no, no. Because you´re going to get cancer from drinking the water, you´re going to slave away interminable hours of your one and only life, and struggle to make ends meet... to help the enemy.
And on a much smaller scale... people have been telling me forever... Pick your battles, Casie. Well, I do, but it´s just that... every morning you wake up, you´re in for the fight of your life. I feel it in other ways at home, and I fight whenever I´m able. And people tell me to have a beer, relax. But I cannot relax when I feel like people are encroaching on my rights, my independence. The cable company jacks my bill up without warning, I cancel the cable and give them my clear opinion. I´ll figure it out without cable. There are libraries and cafés for internet, and I don´t need to watch TV. I don´t even like it that much. I try to rent a car, but because I´m a week shy of 25, I´m going to have to pay an extra 100 bucks. So I decide, screw it. I´ll drag my junk ass old car to DC. If I break down, I break down. I am told that sometimes I should just accept this sort of thing. I absoultely will not. I know that rules are in place for a reason, statistics namely. However, because I am a good driver and can´t afford the extra price, I refuse to accept this. Someone, somewhere, has to say no. Lately, I´ve been told I´m not going to change a certain situation involving men. I´ve run across a few not-so-charming fellows over here. I´m dancing with my friends, they butt in like they have a right to come enjoy us for the night. I´m at the gym doing my workout, they´re counting my push-ups out loud or trying to swipe the machine I´m using. I´m teaching a friend to swim, they´re piping up like they know better. Just... back off... and I don´t care what´s accepted here or at home. I am not inferior for my sex, and every single time I feel that that´s being challenged, I will stand up to the challenge. I remember my gym class, 8th grade. We were playing wiffle ball of all things. I´d been playing ball for years and wanted to play third base. I didn´t want to stand in the outfield and be bored. In front of the entire class, I was ordered to stand back, go to the outfield. He said girls don´t need to be in the infield, because they´ll get hurt and cry, and her parents will sue him. (Personally, I´d be more worried about a sexual discrimination case.) I stood and explained that I played ball, had taken line drives to my body, and that because I was physically smaller than most males, I had less of a chance of actually being hit by the ball. But this grown man walked up to me and forced me back physically. After class, he employed the help of the high school quarterback to explain to me why women don´t belong in the infield. I informed him I didn´t care what the quarterback thought, slammed the door in his face as hard as I could, and marched off. And I´m not going to stand back here because of my sex either. Period. Would it make my life easier to stand down and go with the flow? Absolutely, but it would make it immensely less bearable as well.
I´m fighting right now for my damn bike of all things. I signed a contract when I moved into these apartments, and nowhere was it mentioned that I couldn´t have my bike in my room. So I´ve been keeping it here in my room. It´s protected from weather and thieves in my room. Then a few nights ago, a man follows me to my room and demands that I take my bike to the common lock-up room. I´m furious, of course, because I´m earning this apartment by teaching for the university, and I´m told I can´t have my bike in here... And where I mentioned above that bottom feeders need to hang together, I felt like he could have so easily just looked the other way. I took it down for him, because I appreciate his position. With the unemployment rate what it is here in Spain, and maybe he has a family to take care of... I get it. Like I said, I took donation food for awhile. But man, was that a hard walk downstairs, knowing I respected him and his position, but that he had none for me. I don´t know how many times I´ve said to people, ¨I didn´t hear that. I didn´t see that.¨ Sometimes the enforcement of rules is really just badgering people out of their rights, especially if the rule isn´t explicitly written down somewhere. So, I could accept it for what it is, and if I was a person who could do that, yeah, my life would be easier. But because I have never been able to overlook an abuse of power in any circumstance, I´m talking with the boss of the apartments about this. I´m explaining that this should have been written down and that I have a right to protect my property, because... I´m angry. Am I screaming in someone´s face and acting like a lunatic? No. There is a way to make your voice heard without acting like an asshole. I don´t always win, but I don´t always lose, either.
A couple days ago I was talking with a girl who was outraged by androgynous hair styles and dress for both men and women, saying that there should be a difference. It´s wrong, she said, just wrong. Didn´t I agree? I told her I didn´t. I told her why, calmly, rationally... but I didn´t gloss it over, either. And you know what? She (and she´s an opinionated woman) said, maybe you´re right. I hadn´t thought about it like that.
I´ve been hearing a lot here about how people from the US are a bunch of imperialists. No, it´s not everyone saying that, but enough that I´m concerned. Am I proud of everything my country´s every done? Absolutely not. We have our dark periods in history like any other country. But what really gets my blood boiling is when I hear someone say we´re all imperialists, because... like I discussed above, that´s not the case. There are probably some in the government who would like to dominate the entire world by force. But I don´t believe that´s true of the majority, and it´s certainly not true of the common person, not true of the poor person who would love for the tyranny to stop so he could just feel secure that food and healthcare would be there. So when my lit professor started in on some German girls yesterday for eating in class (in Spain, this is very disrespectul), I was already getting irritated. I felt like it would have been so easy for him to wait until after class or to walk up to them and address them more subtly. He chose to put them on display and humiliate them. He said it was like putting your feet up on the table, which was very American... suddenly he remembered he had an American student in the class, and asked me if he wasn´t right. I had no chance to take the edge out of my voice, and I let him know very clearly, that no, it was a very rude thing to do. Sure, some people may do it in their homes, but in a classroom, never. Everyone began to laugh. I think they were a little shocked, because this professor really enjoys throwing his weight around over his students. I could list several examples, but it would distract from my point. I wasn´t glaring at him because I hate him. I was glaring because if I didn´t focus, I was going to explode. I wake up in the morning and read about my people being beaten with police batons and being sprayed with pepper spray in the middle of the night, and then I´m supposed to agree with a humiliating rhetorical question about them? He could tell I was upset, and after class he waited for me. He said he didn´t mean to bother anyone. I guess that was his best attempt at an apology, even though it wasn´t an apology. I didn´t know what to say. I basically said, ok, and I understand. What am I going to say?... Oh, that´s alright? Ugh. I plan to go talk to him privately next week, not to make waves, I want to say I´m sorry for not being able to hear him when he was talking to me after class. Because I am. I am all for fighting the good fight, but I am also for mercy. If someone attempts to address the issue, I like to at least be able to hear them. I don´t have to say it´s OK, but it is possible to forgive without approving what has occurred.
There are simply some things that I can´t just ¨go with the flow¨ on.
If you´re discriminating based on sex or gender, I´ll challenge you.
If you´re discriminating based on race, I´ll challenge you.
If you´re discriminating based on creed, I´ll challenge you.
If you´re discriminating based on nationality, I´ll challenge you.
If you are trying to take away my personal rights or saying things that indicate you would like to take away someone else´s rights, I will challenge you.
Now, that sounds like someone who´s all fists and no heart. But I assure you, it is of the utmost importance to forgive, to be gentle. Challenging someone for holding unfair ideas doesn´t mean you don´t love the person. It just means... you refuse to let them go on discrimintating in your presence, at least without a fight.
I´ll never be someone who can let these things go. So I´ll fight every day. I feel better about fighting every day and having moments of anger or frustration than I would about seeing wrongs going on and doing nothing about it. Sometimes you have to put on your big girl panties and have at it.
This is disorganized. I´m talking about ten things at once. The point is, whether in the macro or the micro, it is important that we all challenge injustice and stand up to it.
This quote really resonates with me, because my whole life... I guess I´ve been a bit stubborn on things where I sense an abuse of power or might. I relentlessly petitioned my elementary school teacher for things like excessive demands (as a sixth grader, I tested at a high school senior´s reading level and therefore was only permitted to read books above my maturity level, and I also had to read more than people at lower levels. When I failed to read and test on some one thousand odd pages every month, I had to sit and read in the office, and this happened to several of us), the right to have a Valentine´s Day Party, anything my child self found important.
Now, it´s bigger topics, and I don´t always feel as involved as I could or should be. There´s a lot of protesting going on in my state right now about the Marcellus drilling. I am grateful to those who are protesting and attempting to keep those in charge in check. For my part, however, I haven´t been as involved as I could be maybe. I went to a letter writing event, signed some petitions. On my drive home from Morgantown over the last couple years, I´ve watched the landscape change. What used to be seventy-two miles of the most heart-lifting drive I´ve ever known is now punctuated by drill sites, trucks that are too big for the roads. They´re contaminating our water, ruining our roads, and really... endangering the life of every motorist who uses the road. Like I said, those trucks are just too big. They can´t handle those turns without going left of center, and given all the windy blind turns on Route 7... it´s a death trap. They are talking about putting a plant in close to my home, which would create about two hundred jobs. God knows we need them, but... at what price? I know people are struggling to keep the heat on and food on the table. I´m not too proud to admit that for awhile when my dad´s plant was on strike, we accepted food from a pantry, that the local gym waived our membership fee, that my piano teacher let me come a few times without paying. And I haven´t even felt the brunt of it. I see people I love going without medicine they need, living in the constant anxiety of the heat being shut off, surviving on macaroni and cheese and hot dogs because food that would be more nourishing is too expensive. This is clearly a problem... and not a sob story. I´m talking about people who are willing and able to work, but there just aren´t enough jobs. So this Marcellus drilling plant seems like a good idea, right?... It may be a temporary solution for some people who are on the brink of collapse, but in the long run... it´ll poison our water (and let´s keep in mind that we already can´t eat the fish out of that river), and without water, we´ll eventually be even more bound by this damnable tradition of economic slavery we have in the valley. Our people do back-busting jobs for 12- and 16- hour days, and can still barely make ends meet? Something doesn´t add up here, people...
Then I think about Wall Street and the Occupy movement. I woke up yesterday to news of a police raid happening in the middle of the night. And I think how grateful I am to the people who are there and in the encampments throughout the United States, trying to make a stand for economic justice, because let´s face it... our middle class isn´t just disappearing... it´s already almost entirely gone. The poor are getting poorer while the rich are getting richer. I´m all for a simple life. I don´t need designer tags or long strands of pearls, but I do need to eat, I do need clean water, and I do need enough money to pay rent and medical bills. Anyone working in a free and modern country shouldn´t have to struggle for at least that much. And these protestors are trying to insure that for us. We´ve been talking about the imminence of class warfare for awhile. Well, I think it´s coming... unless enough of us bottom-feeders can link up and actually work together, not punking out when someone comes along and offers to appease us with a few hundred a week... to destroy our own land. Are you kidding me? No, no, no. Because you´re going to get cancer from drinking the water, you´re going to slave away interminable hours of your one and only life, and struggle to make ends meet... to help the enemy.
And on a much smaller scale... people have been telling me forever... Pick your battles, Casie. Well, I do, but it´s just that... every morning you wake up, you´re in for the fight of your life. I feel it in other ways at home, and I fight whenever I´m able. And people tell me to have a beer, relax. But I cannot relax when I feel like people are encroaching on my rights, my independence. The cable company jacks my bill up without warning, I cancel the cable and give them my clear opinion. I´ll figure it out without cable. There are libraries and cafés for internet, and I don´t need to watch TV. I don´t even like it that much. I try to rent a car, but because I´m a week shy of 25, I´m going to have to pay an extra 100 bucks. So I decide, screw it. I´ll drag my junk ass old car to DC. If I break down, I break down. I am told that sometimes I should just accept this sort of thing. I absoultely will not. I know that rules are in place for a reason, statistics namely. However, because I am a good driver and can´t afford the extra price, I refuse to accept this. Someone, somewhere, has to say no. Lately, I´ve been told I´m not going to change a certain situation involving men. I´ve run across a few not-so-charming fellows over here. I´m dancing with my friends, they butt in like they have a right to come enjoy us for the night. I´m at the gym doing my workout, they´re counting my push-ups out loud or trying to swipe the machine I´m using. I´m teaching a friend to swim, they´re piping up like they know better. Just... back off... and I don´t care what´s accepted here or at home. I am not inferior for my sex, and every single time I feel that that´s being challenged, I will stand up to the challenge. I remember my gym class, 8th grade. We were playing wiffle ball of all things. I´d been playing ball for years and wanted to play third base. I didn´t want to stand in the outfield and be bored. In front of the entire class, I was ordered to stand back, go to the outfield. He said girls don´t need to be in the infield, because they´ll get hurt and cry, and her parents will sue him. (Personally, I´d be more worried about a sexual discrimination case.) I stood and explained that I played ball, had taken line drives to my body, and that because I was physically smaller than most males, I had less of a chance of actually being hit by the ball. But this grown man walked up to me and forced me back physically. After class, he employed the help of the high school quarterback to explain to me why women don´t belong in the infield. I informed him I didn´t care what the quarterback thought, slammed the door in his face as hard as I could, and marched off. And I´m not going to stand back here because of my sex either. Period. Would it make my life easier to stand down and go with the flow? Absolutely, but it would make it immensely less bearable as well.
I´m fighting right now for my damn bike of all things. I signed a contract when I moved into these apartments, and nowhere was it mentioned that I couldn´t have my bike in my room. So I´ve been keeping it here in my room. It´s protected from weather and thieves in my room. Then a few nights ago, a man follows me to my room and demands that I take my bike to the common lock-up room. I´m furious, of course, because I´m earning this apartment by teaching for the university, and I´m told I can´t have my bike in here... And where I mentioned above that bottom feeders need to hang together, I felt like he could have so easily just looked the other way. I took it down for him, because I appreciate his position. With the unemployment rate what it is here in Spain, and maybe he has a family to take care of... I get it. Like I said, I took donation food for awhile. But man, was that a hard walk downstairs, knowing I respected him and his position, but that he had none for me. I don´t know how many times I´ve said to people, ¨I didn´t hear that. I didn´t see that.¨ Sometimes the enforcement of rules is really just badgering people out of their rights, especially if the rule isn´t explicitly written down somewhere. So, I could accept it for what it is, and if I was a person who could do that, yeah, my life would be easier. But because I have never been able to overlook an abuse of power in any circumstance, I´m talking with the boss of the apartments about this. I´m explaining that this should have been written down and that I have a right to protect my property, because... I´m angry. Am I screaming in someone´s face and acting like a lunatic? No. There is a way to make your voice heard without acting like an asshole. I don´t always win, but I don´t always lose, either.
A couple days ago I was talking with a girl who was outraged by androgynous hair styles and dress for both men and women, saying that there should be a difference. It´s wrong, she said, just wrong. Didn´t I agree? I told her I didn´t. I told her why, calmly, rationally... but I didn´t gloss it over, either. And you know what? She (and she´s an opinionated woman) said, maybe you´re right. I hadn´t thought about it like that.
I´ve been hearing a lot here about how people from the US are a bunch of imperialists. No, it´s not everyone saying that, but enough that I´m concerned. Am I proud of everything my country´s every done? Absolutely not. We have our dark periods in history like any other country. But what really gets my blood boiling is when I hear someone say we´re all imperialists, because... like I discussed above, that´s not the case. There are probably some in the government who would like to dominate the entire world by force. But I don´t believe that´s true of the majority, and it´s certainly not true of the common person, not true of the poor person who would love for the tyranny to stop so he could just feel secure that food and healthcare would be there. So when my lit professor started in on some German girls yesterday for eating in class (in Spain, this is very disrespectul), I was already getting irritated. I felt like it would have been so easy for him to wait until after class or to walk up to them and address them more subtly. He chose to put them on display and humiliate them. He said it was like putting your feet up on the table, which was very American... suddenly he remembered he had an American student in the class, and asked me if he wasn´t right. I had no chance to take the edge out of my voice, and I let him know very clearly, that no, it was a very rude thing to do. Sure, some people may do it in their homes, but in a classroom, never. Everyone began to laugh. I think they were a little shocked, because this professor really enjoys throwing his weight around over his students. I could list several examples, but it would distract from my point. I wasn´t glaring at him because I hate him. I was glaring because if I didn´t focus, I was going to explode. I wake up in the morning and read about my people being beaten with police batons and being sprayed with pepper spray in the middle of the night, and then I´m supposed to agree with a humiliating rhetorical question about them? He could tell I was upset, and after class he waited for me. He said he didn´t mean to bother anyone. I guess that was his best attempt at an apology, even though it wasn´t an apology. I didn´t know what to say. I basically said, ok, and I understand. What am I going to say?... Oh, that´s alright? Ugh. I plan to go talk to him privately next week, not to make waves, I want to say I´m sorry for not being able to hear him when he was talking to me after class. Because I am. I am all for fighting the good fight, but I am also for mercy. If someone attempts to address the issue, I like to at least be able to hear them. I don´t have to say it´s OK, but it is possible to forgive without approving what has occurred.
There are simply some things that I can´t just ¨go with the flow¨ on.
If you´re discriminating based on sex or gender, I´ll challenge you.
If you´re discriminating based on race, I´ll challenge you.
If you´re discriminating based on creed, I´ll challenge you.
If you´re discriminating based on nationality, I´ll challenge you.
If you are trying to take away my personal rights or saying things that indicate you would like to take away someone else´s rights, I will challenge you.
Now, that sounds like someone who´s all fists and no heart. But I assure you, it is of the utmost importance to forgive, to be gentle. Challenging someone for holding unfair ideas doesn´t mean you don´t love the person. It just means... you refuse to let them go on discrimintating in your presence, at least without a fight.
I´ll never be someone who can let these things go. So I´ll fight every day. I feel better about fighting every day and having moments of anger or frustration than I would about seeing wrongs going on and doing nothing about it. Sometimes you have to put on your big girl panties and have at it.
This is disorganized. I´m talking about ten things at once. The point is, whether in the macro or the micro, it is important that we all challenge injustice and stand up to it.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
The Night I Accidentally Became a Rebellious Hippy
It´s that awkward moment... when you realize what you thought was going to be a chill bikeride with a friend and several of his... turns out to be a 200-people strong manifestation for cyclists´ rights.
On Friday night, I hopped on my bike (after carrying it down the stairs and sneaking as quickly and smoothly out the front door as possible because they give me crap for keeping my bike inside here) and began pedaling against the wind toward the city centre, La Plaza Mayor. I was going to meet a friend, as he´d asked me to join him and some of his friends on a bike tour through the town. I thought that sounded like an acceptable and welcome alternative to the endless nights of partying in clubs, so I said yes. As I wove through a chaotic swarm of pedestrians in the plaza, I saw a small group of cyclists starting to form. Their bikes were adorned with flashing lights, and I asked myself, is this a parade?
My friend wasn´t there when I arrived, so I sat at the base of a statue and called him up. He was running late, so I sat there on the statue watching more and more bikes with flashing lights arrive. I started to get the clue that this wasn´t just a casual group of friends. When my friend finally showed up, he joined me at the statue, and I asked him why there were so many people and what this was all about. He informed me that there were so many people because it was the organization´s tenth anniversary. I asked what organization, and he told me it was the organization that fights for the rights of cyclists in Valladolid. ¨Oh, so I´m part of a fight now?¨ I asked. He laughed and responded in the affirmative but said that tonight wasn´t really about anything. OK. He also said that riding your bike in the street is illegal, and that riding without those flashing lights at night is also illegal. Cool. This is when I realized I was going to spend the evening breaking laws, in a foreign country, without a passport on hand, as part of a manifestation (that we called a party so that the cops wouldn´t get upset). People were wearing wigs and flying flags on the backs of their bikes. Most people had bells on their bikes that they were ringing, and one guy even had a boombox strapped to the back of his bike. No, this was not going to attract any attention at all. I was going to slide right under the radar.
Ten minutes later, we´re stopped at a red light. My friend and I are up at the front of the pack, and behind us are about 200 other cyclists, filling both lanes of traffic, blocking cars. Drivers behind us are going crazy, and the guy beside me wearing two hats and mascara is blowing a whistle. People are waving at us and clapping. Some just stare on, confused. Nope, we have gained no attention. Green light. Go.
I didn´t think to wear gloves. Not only were my hands cold, but everytime I moved my hands against the handlebars, I could feel it tingling all the way up to my elbows. I thought this might not be a good sign. I kept pedaling.
Also, I´m claustrophobic. Even when I ride bikes with John, I usually demand that we ride single file with two bikes´ distance between us. Now, here I am in a hoard of bell-ringing, whistle-blowing, screaming, fist thrusting protesters, all on bikes, crammed together about as close as the Tour de France riders... and I´m just riding along taking pictures of the new parts of the city I´m seeing as I go. I´m thinking how cool this is that everyone´s all pals and helping stand up for bikers´ rights.
Honestly, while it might seem a minor issue, if we´re going to make the leap from cars to non-motorized transit, bikes are the way to go. They´re faster than walking, and in crowded cities, they´re also faster than cars... that´s true even in Morgantown... but when motorists don´t respect you and you don´t have a legal right to be on the road, and when pedestrians don´t respect you and you have to share their sidewalks... well, the situation could just be improved. How about a narrow lane tagged onto the sidewalk? I know in Morgantown it´s technially not permissible to ride your bike on the sidewalk. However, motorists go past angrily shouting at you to do so, but then if you do get on the sidewalk... with the hills and turns and all... if you run into a pedestrian and have to dodge into the street to get out of their way, well, that could be your life. And when the motorists say mean things to me like that, all I can think is, I´m out here using my legs while you spike the price of gasoline (obviously it´s not that simple, I realize). Instead of blowing your horn at me and shouting inflammatory remarks, you should be waiting for me at the top of this hill with a bag of cookies. Of course, there are times when it is more practical to go in a car, but let´s knock the road rage down a little and not risk cyclists´ lives because following them for one street might make us one minute later to wherever we´re going. If you want cyclists off the roads, join the fight and help them get a safe space of their own.
Take home point: You may want to get the details of events before agreeing to participate in them. It´s not that I would have said no; I just would have brought my passport along, just in case... because when those cops threw on their lights behind us, I was nervous. I was relieved, as I could tell many others were, also, when they drove on past. Sometimes when you think you´re going for a little bike ride, you are going on a protest. That´s OK. Just keep pedaling.
(Also, if you want to see more pictures of the event, they are available on my facebook profile, in the album titled Valladolid. At this point, they are the last 7 pictures in the album.)
Thursday, November 3, 2011
The Woeful Tale of a Wayward Library Patron
Well, after twenty years of abusing libraries, I have finally learned my lesson.
It was raining today. I´d been running, showered. I was enjoying my disgusting cup of instant coffee as much as one CAN enjoy a disgusting cup of instant coffee, and chuckling to myself at the blatant sarcasm of John Locke in his essay ¨On Human Understanding.¨ I was taking notes, preparing to write a response essay to it later. I got tired, took a nap, went to school, and then I went to the library...
I informed the librarian I´d forgotten to bring the book back due to the recent short vacation. I supposed there would be a penalty. I´m used to paying fines for my library books, as I never bring them back on time. Frankly, it´s frequently cheaper to pay the fine than it is to drive back to the library and turn in the book. Well, this man did not want my money. No. What he wanted was the FULL REVOCATION of my library privileges until a period of two days for every one day the book was late had passed. The horror! I was planning to go home with that book tonight and make myself some rooibos chamomile tea and continue reading. But the book was physically removed from my hands. I felt violated. My evening plans, my weekend plans, had just been pulled out of my hands. All I could do was stand there pathetically asking, ¨Seriously?¨
And that´s when I realized... this is what they needed to do to get me to bring my books back all those years. I have transgressed at every library I have ever patronized. I have acquired something of a record. My books are always returned late or damaged. To further exemplify my point, I will tell you of some perversions of library usage that will make you shudder.
Age 5. My parents both worked full time jobs. Mom was all day shift. Dad was a shiftworker. So I stayed at my grandma´s house a lot. Luckily for me, she lived close to the Paden City Public Library. I flippantly charged through the neighbor´s yards and church parking lots instead of using the streets on my way to the library. Sometimes I even snuck out without telling my grandma where I was going. Yeah, I was a hard roller like that. I couldn´t be distracted from my goal, which was to get to the library, march defiantly to the empty plastic gallon jug painted to look like a face with a mouth, out of which came recycled grocery bags. I would then greedily fill the bag with eight books, which was the library´s maximum and storm back to my grandmother´s house. She always wanted to know how many books I had, because my mother had instructed me not to get so many anymore since I always lost them. I lied, of course, and ran away and hid the books. When my mother came to pick me up from my grandmother´s house at the end of the day, I would wait until they were engrossed in conversation and run to the van as fast as I could to hide the books under the seats so she wouldn´t catch on to my disobedience. Four weeks later, though, she´d get a call from the librarian, who unfortuately also went to our church. (I had to be reminded of my crimes while looking at Jesus every Sunday.) Suddenly, my mother was standing in the doorway of my bedroom. ¨Casie, I just got a call from the library.¨ My five-year-old brain was racing, searching for lies and excuses before I could remember if I even had any books from the library. Oh, but there was the corner of ¨Frog and Toad Together¨ peeking out at me from under the bed, and I knew I was sunk. I´ve never been a good liar, perhaps due to the overwhelming panic I always feel at being caught at something, or perhaps due to the guilt only a helplessly repeat offender of library crimes such as myself could possibly ever know. Seeing the guilt spread across my face, my mother, who could sometimes be decent despite her efforts to cap my avarice for more and more library books, would enter what appeared to be a teddy bear, doll baby, and random stuffed animal drunken orgy, and help me search for the books. We figured 6 outta 8 wasn´t bad, and she´d take me to the library, make me walk in with my sack full, but not as full as it should have been, of books, and hand them to the library, explaining that I still had to check my backpack, cubby at school, and grandma´s house for the remaining two. For awhile I´d be embarrassed. I´d be sorry for the lack of Wet´n´Wild nail polish that I bought every week with my allowance, which was now being withheld to pay off my library debt. I´d go home, clean my room, try to convince my parents I could be trusted with library books again and to reinstate my allowance, but within days I would inevitably be back to my old tricks. ¨Mam-maw, me and Erica are going to the library, OK?... No, I won´t get more than three.. YES!!! I promise!!!¨ I was sincere, of course. What sort of sociopathic kindergartener could lie to her dear, sweet Mam-maw? But when I got to the library I was like a gambling addict in a casino. I fought myself hard. I laid all the books I wanted to take home with me out on a table and commiserated for MINUTES over which ones I would check out. I knew I couldn´t show up with eight again, not that soon, but maybe, no... surely, my compassionate grandmother would understand that I could not possibly leave these extra two behind. If I did, someone else might have them checked out when I came to look for them again. And then I´d come back a few weeks later, and SOMEONE ELSE would have them. Good God- this could go on FOREVER! Yes, my Mam-maw would understand.
By the fourth grade, I had yet to change my ways. Two of my great passions at that age were riding in the back of my dad´s truck and reading the Little House on the Prairie series. So one day I was just riding in the back of the truck, reading my book, when suddenly I felt the bump and tumble of the gravel driveway. CHIPS AHOY! If I didn´t get inside soon my little sister would beat me to them! So I jumped from the bed of the truck and sprinted in the house, forgetting all about my book. My dad was on the midnight shift that night. At about 11:45, just as he should have been arriving at the plant, it began to rain. I worried for my book. I thought about telling my mother, maybe we had time to drive up the river and rescue my book before it was ruined. It had a laminated library cover, so that should offer some protection, right? But I couldn´t expose my shame, or more accurately, terror. So half an hour later, I forgot all about it, went to bed, and woke the next morning with not a single thought of my lost book. That book stayed there for two months. The school librarian asked me about it when it was three weeks overdue, but by this time I´d forgotten about the truck incident and therefore spent hours searching for it at all my relatives´ houses and in the VORTEX OF HELL, which was my bedroom. One day I was just wallering around on the floor watching the morning sitcoms on TBS when my mom walked in the living room. ¨I found your book,¨ she stated flatly and smilelessly. ¨What book?¨ She held it up for me, soggy and moldy. I took it to the school librarian the next day after failed attempts at resucitating it with a blowdryer. She gave me a dirty look, made me pay 10 dollars in damages... I shudder to think how many bottles of Wet´n´Wild I had to sacrifice to pay that one off... but she STILL let me have more books.
I didn´t get better in high school. My report card was withheld more than once due to overdue library books or outstanding fines. In college, I failed to return movies and books on time, and when I did return them, they were frequently coffee stained. I always set the books on the return table and walked away as quickly as possible. Frankly, I was embarrassed of myself by that age. I could hear scolding librarians´ voices in my head: Overdue... again?! Coffee stains?! Do you really have NO respect for this library??? Every time I took a book a home, I promised myself... THIS time, I´d bring it back on time, I´d keep it clean, I wouldn´t dog ear the pages, I wouldn´t dig my nail into the pages as I followed along in the text. THIS time I was gonna get my shit together. It didn´t matter that I LOVED libraries, the overwhelming smell of musty pages every time I walked in the door, the fact that this was one institution I could actually get on board with, one that let me read books for FREE... I even sometimes donated my old books to try to burn off some old bad library karma... I just couldn´t get it together.
Then tonight I realized... if they wanted their books back, on time and undamaged, all they had to do was refuse to let me have any more. As I stood there in shock with no more book, I was completely bereft. Nothing was going to make this better, not another book, not learning my lesson, and definitely not the damn DIGITAL version! From here on out, I will be a good library patron (I hope). I will return my books undamaged (insofar as I am capable) and on time (if I remember).
(Parts of this may have been embellished. Or maybe I´m just saying that to save face... you decide.)
It was raining today. I´d been running, showered. I was enjoying my disgusting cup of instant coffee as much as one CAN enjoy a disgusting cup of instant coffee, and chuckling to myself at the blatant sarcasm of John Locke in his essay ¨On Human Understanding.¨ I was taking notes, preparing to write a response essay to it later. I got tired, took a nap, went to school, and then I went to the library...
I informed the librarian I´d forgotten to bring the book back due to the recent short vacation. I supposed there would be a penalty. I´m used to paying fines for my library books, as I never bring them back on time. Frankly, it´s frequently cheaper to pay the fine than it is to drive back to the library and turn in the book. Well, this man did not want my money. No. What he wanted was the FULL REVOCATION of my library privileges until a period of two days for every one day the book was late had passed. The horror! I was planning to go home with that book tonight and make myself some rooibos chamomile tea and continue reading. But the book was physically removed from my hands. I felt violated. My evening plans, my weekend plans, had just been pulled out of my hands. All I could do was stand there pathetically asking, ¨Seriously?¨
And that´s when I realized... this is what they needed to do to get me to bring my books back all those years. I have transgressed at every library I have ever patronized. I have acquired something of a record. My books are always returned late or damaged. To further exemplify my point, I will tell you of some perversions of library usage that will make you shudder.
Age 5. My parents both worked full time jobs. Mom was all day shift. Dad was a shiftworker. So I stayed at my grandma´s house a lot. Luckily for me, she lived close to the Paden City Public Library. I flippantly charged through the neighbor´s yards and church parking lots instead of using the streets on my way to the library. Sometimes I even snuck out without telling my grandma where I was going. Yeah, I was a hard roller like that. I couldn´t be distracted from my goal, which was to get to the library, march defiantly to the empty plastic gallon jug painted to look like a face with a mouth, out of which came recycled grocery bags. I would then greedily fill the bag with eight books, which was the library´s maximum and storm back to my grandmother´s house. She always wanted to know how many books I had, because my mother had instructed me not to get so many anymore since I always lost them. I lied, of course, and ran away and hid the books. When my mother came to pick me up from my grandmother´s house at the end of the day, I would wait until they were engrossed in conversation and run to the van as fast as I could to hide the books under the seats so she wouldn´t catch on to my disobedience. Four weeks later, though, she´d get a call from the librarian, who unfortuately also went to our church. (I had to be reminded of my crimes while looking at Jesus every Sunday.) Suddenly, my mother was standing in the doorway of my bedroom. ¨Casie, I just got a call from the library.¨ My five-year-old brain was racing, searching for lies and excuses before I could remember if I even had any books from the library. Oh, but there was the corner of ¨Frog and Toad Together¨ peeking out at me from under the bed, and I knew I was sunk. I´ve never been a good liar, perhaps due to the overwhelming panic I always feel at being caught at something, or perhaps due to the guilt only a helplessly repeat offender of library crimes such as myself could possibly ever know. Seeing the guilt spread across my face, my mother, who could sometimes be decent despite her efforts to cap my avarice for more and more library books, would enter what appeared to be a teddy bear, doll baby, and random stuffed animal drunken orgy, and help me search for the books. We figured 6 outta 8 wasn´t bad, and she´d take me to the library, make me walk in with my sack full, but not as full as it should have been, of books, and hand them to the library, explaining that I still had to check my backpack, cubby at school, and grandma´s house for the remaining two. For awhile I´d be embarrassed. I´d be sorry for the lack of Wet´n´Wild nail polish that I bought every week with my allowance, which was now being withheld to pay off my library debt. I´d go home, clean my room, try to convince my parents I could be trusted with library books again and to reinstate my allowance, but within days I would inevitably be back to my old tricks. ¨Mam-maw, me and Erica are going to the library, OK?... No, I won´t get more than three.. YES!!! I promise!!!¨ I was sincere, of course. What sort of sociopathic kindergartener could lie to her dear, sweet Mam-maw? But when I got to the library I was like a gambling addict in a casino. I fought myself hard. I laid all the books I wanted to take home with me out on a table and commiserated for MINUTES over which ones I would check out. I knew I couldn´t show up with eight again, not that soon, but maybe, no... surely, my compassionate grandmother would understand that I could not possibly leave these extra two behind. If I did, someone else might have them checked out when I came to look for them again. And then I´d come back a few weeks later, and SOMEONE ELSE would have them. Good God- this could go on FOREVER! Yes, my Mam-maw would understand.
By the fourth grade, I had yet to change my ways. Two of my great passions at that age were riding in the back of my dad´s truck and reading the Little House on the Prairie series. So one day I was just riding in the back of the truck, reading my book, when suddenly I felt the bump and tumble of the gravel driveway. CHIPS AHOY! If I didn´t get inside soon my little sister would beat me to them! So I jumped from the bed of the truck and sprinted in the house, forgetting all about my book. My dad was on the midnight shift that night. At about 11:45, just as he should have been arriving at the plant, it began to rain. I worried for my book. I thought about telling my mother, maybe we had time to drive up the river and rescue my book before it was ruined. It had a laminated library cover, so that should offer some protection, right? But I couldn´t expose my shame, or more accurately, terror. So half an hour later, I forgot all about it, went to bed, and woke the next morning with not a single thought of my lost book. That book stayed there for two months. The school librarian asked me about it when it was three weeks overdue, but by this time I´d forgotten about the truck incident and therefore spent hours searching for it at all my relatives´ houses and in the VORTEX OF HELL, which was my bedroom. One day I was just wallering around on the floor watching the morning sitcoms on TBS when my mom walked in the living room. ¨I found your book,¨ she stated flatly and smilelessly. ¨What book?¨ She held it up for me, soggy and moldy. I took it to the school librarian the next day after failed attempts at resucitating it with a blowdryer. She gave me a dirty look, made me pay 10 dollars in damages... I shudder to think how many bottles of Wet´n´Wild I had to sacrifice to pay that one off... but she STILL let me have more books.
I didn´t get better in high school. My report card was withheld more than once due to overdue library books or outstanding fines. In college, I failed to return movies and books on time, and when I did return them, they were frequently coffee stained. I always set the books on the return table and walked away as quickly as possible. Frankly, I was embarrassed of myself by that age. I could hear scolding librarians´ voices in my head: Overdue... again?! Coffee stains?! Do you really have NO respect for this library??? Every time I took a book a home, I promised myself... THIS time, I´d bring it back on time, I´d keep it clean, I wouldn´t dog ear the pages, I wouldn´t dig my nail into the pages as I followed along in the text. THIS time I was gonna get my shit together. It didn´t matter that I LOVED libraries, the overwhelming smell of musty pages every time I walked in the door, the fact that this was one institution I could actually get on board with, one that let me read books for FREE... I even sometimes donated my old books to try to burn off some old bad library karma... I just couldn´t get it together.
Then tonight I realized... if they wanted their books back, on time and undamaged, all they had to do was refuse to let me have any more. As I stood there in shock with no more book, I was completely bereft. Nothing was going to make this better, not another book, not learning my lesson, and definitely not the damn DIGITAL version! From here on out, I will be a good library patron (I hope). I will return my books undamaged (insofar as I am capable) and on time (if I remember).
(Parts of this may have been embellished. Or maybe I´m just saying that to save face... you decide.)
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Erasums Workout
So, as I promised about a month and a half ago... here is my weighted back pack workout. (You need to fill your backpack with heavy stuff. I filled bottles with fluid, stuffed in textbooks, etc.) I just did it for the first time, and here are my initial thoughts: the weight in the backpack is definitely sufficient to overload smaller muscle groups such as biceps and deltoids. For larger muscles groups, like quads, glutes, hams, and back, this is more of a muscular endurance workout than a raw strength workout. It is definitely adequate to fatigue all your muscles, but I think I would recommend it as more of a once a week or once every other week workout to supplement what you´re already doing as opposed to being your only or your main workout. Some of the exercises in this workout don´t use the pack, mainly because I couldn´t think of a safe way to carry the load. I set this workout up as a circuit workout, because due to the fact that the load is lighter, I needed to get my heartrate up to make the intensity, well... intense enough. OK, so let´s get started.
Circuit 1:
1. 30 Alternating Rear Lunges
2. 15 Push Ups
3. 20 Bent Over Rows
The first thing to keep in mind is that these repetitions are simply how many I felt comfortable doing. Your number of repetitions may vary depending on your fitness level and how much the stuff you shove in your backpack weighs.
For the rear lunges, hang the backpack off the front of your body, emulating the form of a pregnant woman with the backpack. Be careful. This is an unnatural way to carry the load for resistance training (although it will give you a greater appreciation for the pregnant woman and mothers in your life). Engage your abdominal muscles so that you pull your pelvis directly underneath your ribcage. Your butt shouldn´t stick out too much. (Why? Because it keeps the pressure off your lumbar spine and helps take the demand off the small muscles of the lowback.) If you feel too much pressure in your low back, ditch the backpack and continue without it. You´ve done a good rep if your hips and knees have continued facing forward, your pelvis stayed under your ribs, and your back knee touched the floor.
The push ups are fairly self-explanatory, but just some reminders on form. Your butt shouldn´t be up in the air, and you shouldn´t go sway back (like a mule). Neutral spine all the way, and you should be able to touch your nose to the floor (or close... if you feel very weary, don´t attempt the nose to the floor, because you may wind up with a bloody nose.) Depending on your strength level, you may choose to do these on your knees to make them easier, add more repetitions if you´re stronger, or even do decline push ups if you really want to wreck yourself.
The bent over rows are a little tricky with the backpack. It´s necessary to have your legs wider than normal. Grip the straps of the pack, bend your knees slightly, and pivot from the hips so that your chest spills over as you bend (as opposed to just hanging your chest over... your back should be pretty straight, almost parallel to the floor). Then pull the pack in as far as possible to your body, and repeat. To make it a little harder (the pack didn´t provide quite enough resistance for me), hold for a second at the top.
Rest for 30 to 60 seconds between circuits, and go through three times.
Circuit 2:
1. Wall sit with the pack
2. Tricep push up (10ish)
3. Pilates 100
A word of caution on the wall sit: as I mentioned, the pack is a bit of an unnatural load, so be careful. I found it useful to have a chair nearby to sit the pack on before I stood back up so as not to put a weird strain on my back. You can also do the wall sit without the pack. Just put your back against a wall, slide down until your femur (big bone in your thigh) is parallel to the floor and ceiling. Hold until you can´t anymore. Keep your pelvis under your ribs.
Tricep push ups, for those who may be unsure, are like regular push-ups, except that when you lower your body, your elbows go straight back. These are harder than regular push-ups, because you are relying pretty exclusively on your triceps to do the work. Since your elbows aren´t flaring out, your chest is no longer involved. You may want to do these on your knees, but if you have the strength, go ahead and do them regular.
Pilates Hundred... there are too many variations of this to explain them all right now. Either Youtube it or substitue your own favorite abs exercise. Go to failure, not just until you feel the burn.
Circuit 3:
1. Jump Squats, 10
2. Bicep curls
3. Upright row
For the jump squats, come into a squat position. Hold until you start to feel your butt and legs, then jump up as high as you can, reaching for the ceiling. Land SOFTLY in a squat position. Repeat ten times.
Bicep curls: Grip your back pack with both hands on the handle that´s on top. Again, because the load is weird, pay extra attention to your spinal position. Pelvis beneath your ribs, abs engaged, chest lifted. Perform 12ish repetitions... that´s what I was able to do anyway. Do more or fewer as you´re able.
Upright row: You need to change your grip for this one. If you keep the same grip you had for the bicep curls, you´ll be targeting your trapezius muscles more than your shoulders. This was probably the most awkward grip of the whole thing. Hold the backpack by only one strap, one hand on each side of the strap. As your perform the row, you may notice that it feels harder for one side of your body than the other. This is because, in all likelihood, the majority of the pack´s weight is positioned in the bottom of the pack. Compensate for this by changing sides on the next set, and for the last set, perform half your repetitions on one side, half on the other.
CORE:
I like to finish all my workouts with some extra core work. This one wasn´t a circuit. I just did it once, but if you´re feeling froggy, you can do it all three times.
1. Forearm plank... however long you can hold it, until failure.
2. Sweeps (on your back, start by pulling your knees into your chest with your arms. Simultaneously shoot your legs and arms out in opposite directions. To finish one rep, pull your knees into your chest while sweeping your arms out to the side of your body in a circle and finally pulling your knees into your chest with your arms again. This is a fairly advanced move... repeat 10-15 times.)
3. Superman... lie prone, feet apart. Squeeze your butt tight to protect your lowback. Arms are out overhead in a V-shape. Slowly raise arms and legs at the same time to work your back. Note: You don´t have to come up high for this. Work within a sensible and safe range of motion.
OK. Good job. In about 50 minutes you´ve worked all your major muscle groups. Have a cookie, er... I mean, a nice healthy fruit, yogurt and granola parfait... ok, yeah right... cookie.
Circuit 1:
1. 30 Alternating Rear Lunges
2. 15 Push Ups
3. 20 Bent Over Rows
The first thing to keep in mind is that these repetitions are simply how many I felt comfortable doing. Your number of repetitions may vary depending on your fitness level and how much the stuff you shove in your backpack weighs.
For the rear lunges, hang the backpack off the front of your body, emulating the form of a pregnant woman with the backpack. Be careful. This is an unnatural way to carry the load for resistance training (although it will give you a greater appreciation for the pregnant woman and mothers in your life). Engage your abdominal muscles so that you pull your pelvis directly underneath your ribcage. Your butt shouldn´t stick out too much. (Why? Because it keeps the pressure off your lumbar spine and helps take the demand off the small muscles of the lowback.) If you feel too much pressure in your low back, ditch the backpack and continue without it. You´ve done a good rep if your hips and knees have continued facing forward, your pelvis stayed under your ribs, and your back knee touched the floor.
The push ups are fairly self-explanatory, but just some reminders on form. Your butt shouldn´t be up in the air, and you shouldn´t go sway back (like a mule). Neutral spine all the way, and you should be able to touch your nose to the floor (or close... if you feel very weary, don´t attempt the nose to the floor, because you may wind up with a bloody nose.) Depending on your strength level, you may choose to do these on your knees to make them easier, add more repetitions if you´re stronger, or even do decline push ups if you really want to wreck yourself.
The bent over rows are a little tricky with the backpack. It´s necessary to have your legs wider than normal. Grip the straps of the pack, bend your knees slightly, and pivot from the hips so that your chest spills over as you bend (as opposed to just hanging your chest over... your back should be pretty straight, almost parallel to the floor). Then pull the pack in as far as possible to your body, and repeat. To make it a little harder (the pack didn´t provide quite enough resistance for me), hold for a second at the top.
Rest for 30 to 60 seconds between circuits, and go through three times.
Circuit 2:
1. Wall sit with the pack
2. Tricep push up (10ish)
3. Pilates 100
A word of caution on the wall sit: as I mentioned, the pack is a bit of an unnatural load, so be careful. I found it useful to have a chair nearby to sit the pack on before I stood back up so as not to put a weird strain on my back. You can also do the wall sit without the pack. Just put your back against a wall, slide down until your femur (big bone in your thigh) is parallel to the floor and ceiling. Hold until you can´t anymore. Keep your pelvis under your ribs.
Tricep push ups, for those who may be unsure, are like regular push-ups, except that when you lower your body, your elbows go straight back. These are harder than regular push-ups, because you are relying pretty exclusively on your triceps to do the work. Since your elbows aren´t flaring out, your chest is no longer involved. You may want to do these on your knees, but if you have the strength, go ahead and do them regular.
Pilates Hundred... there are too many variations of this to explain them all right now. Either Youtube it or substitue your own favorite abs exercise. Go to failure, not just until you feel the burn.
Circuit 3:
1. Jump Squats, 10
2. Bicep curls
3. Upright row
For the jump squats, come into a squat position. Hold until you start to feel your butt and legs, then jump up as high as you can, reaching for the ceiling. Land SOFTLY in a squat position. Repeat ten times.
Bicep curls: Grip your back pack with both hands on the handle that´s on top. Again, because the load is weird, pay extra attention to your spinal position. Pelvis beneath your ribs, abs engaged, chest lifted. Perform 12ish repetitions... that´s what I was able to do anyway. Do more or fewer as you´re able.
Upright row: You need to change your grip for this one. If you keep the same grip you had for the bicep curls, you´ll be targeting your trapezius muscles more than your shoulders. This was probably the most awkward grip of the whole thing. Hold the backpack by only one strap, one hand on each side of the strap. As your perform the row, you may notice that it feels harder for one side of your body than the other. This is because, in all likelihood, the majority of the pack´s weight is positioned in the bottom of the pack. Compensate for this by changing sides on the next set, and for the last set, perform half your repetitions on one side, half on the other.
CORE:
I like to finish all my workouts with some extra core work. This one wasn´t a circuit. I just did it once, but if you´re feeling froggy, you can do it all three times.
1. Forearm plank... however long you can hold it, until failure.
2. Sweeps (on your back, start by pulling your knees into your chest with your arms. Simultaneously shoot your legs and arms out in opposite directions. To finish one rep, pull your knees into your chest while sweeping your arms out to the side of your body in a circle and finally pulling your knees into your chest with your arms again. This is a fairly advanced move... repeat 10-15 times.)
3. Superman... lie prone, feet apart. Squeeze your butt tight to protect your lowback. Arms are out overhead in a V-shape. Slowly raise arms and legs at the same time to work your back. Note: You don´t have to come up high for this. Work within a sensible and safe range of motion.
OK. Good job. In about 50 minutes you´ve worked all your major muscle groups. Have a cookie, er... I mean, a nice healthy fruit, yogurt and granola parfait... ok, yeah right... cookie.
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