It’s 11:15 PM in Spain, 3:15 PM in Arizona, and my eyes are so heavy I know the minute my head hits the pillow it will be a quality lights out.
So yes, I have been MIA for over 3 weeks. You know that whole concept of being stranded on a desert island? I’m stranded in a village surrounded by olive trees. I guesstimated correctly when I knew the outside world would be out of reach during Amy & Jamie’s birthday festivities (miss you both :( ))
(this is my neighbors house, and I present to you the guard dog of Posadas)A weird weather front hit Posadas just as the Hulk was leaving. My village is quiet--hurricane Andalucia is definitively among us. I have no doubt that after the flood hits, all that will be left will be Jamon. Jamon Maki Sushi at that. Prepare yourself---jamon sushi is out there..and I saw an ad for it. I also just googled it to be sure, and yes...it's been confirmed.
Alright, more seriously--I started thinking about the past affecting my present. When I was walking through the streets of Venice, I encountered several local shops that had the exact items Lenna had purchased years before. I have her vintage black spade sunglass case in my desk at home, and there it was staring at me from the store window--shiny and new. I contemplated buying it, shifting my weight from foot to foot, biting my lip, wondering if I should buy it..I opted not to since my old one packs alot of sentiment. Likewise, when I found stores packed full of the ridiculously expensive murano paper weights--a mental image came to mind of all my books topped with these weights in my bedroom at home.
I ended up buying a beautiful dark blue and deep red Onyx egg from a store. They had the set of pink marble eggs I have in my room at home. I had always been annoyed when a new marble or onyx egg would appear in my room, "Mom, really? Can you put these somewhere else?" when I would come home on a random weekend from school. I called my Grandma and told her I had found them and she was really excited that I did, she was happy to talk to me about Venice because she said it brought up so many memories for her. I then talked to my Mom about my surprise at finding so many familiar objects here and she said alot of our things had come from Italy. It's just weird..these strange objects had so much familiarity for me. It was like walking through the past. It almost felt like they were ghosts on the street with me. I don't know how to explain it any better, it was special to me though. I'm beginning to wonder, not exactly sure how to phrase this--but maybe coming to Europe was more about trying to find them (Lenna & my Grandma) ...and maybe by learning about my past and my family..I could learn more about myself.
Whenever I was asked why I was going to Spain before, I had no genuine or sincere answer. I knew I needed a change, to push myself, to force myself to grow. Certain things in my life weren’t working before, so I understood that by pushing myself I would eventually be forced to confront them, understand them, and ultimately fix them.
Something i've recently come to terms with is that one of the biggest things I wanted to accomplish here was learning how to just be. Know who I am, what I am capable of, and be content with quiet confidence. I am my harshest critic and I just want to quiet that part of myself. I need to just follow my own drummer, without outside pressures influencing me.
I’ve felt is the struggle between what I want to do and who I want to be. I will never be content without challenge. That being said, I’m intimidated about finding a job. To me a job goes hand in hand with identity. I could never work in a humdrum job, just to have a job. I want to do something that satisfies me, something that helps me continue to grow as a person. I’m really happy teaching. I love working with kids on a regular basis, thinking of creative lesson plans, talking about grammar, and trying to help them get the best education they can. Not only do I want to teach, but I want to be a great teacher. Did you know that both my grandma and Lenna were English professors? I guess it should come as no surprise that I would love to be that quirky English Professor being babblative about the romantic period and sharing my love of literature with students. On the other hand, being a writer comprises an intricate part of who I am. Even as a little girl, my family would find me tapping away at the typewriter or computer for hours. My grandma still has some of my stories, one of them is entitled “The ugliest girl in the whole entire world.” People would puke all over themselves when they saw her--line 2. Apparently, I’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.
An aside, I was thinking about writing a travel guide about lessons I’ve learned on my random adventures. Things you read and scoff at end up being painfully true, for example, it will always be more expensive then you think. You know that some part of you is like “Oh yeah right..it’ll be cheaper” etc, etc. No. No it won’t, it will always cost more than you anticipate. Traveling is EXPENSIVE and usually very unglamorous. Being an over prepared freak like me comes in handy in moments like that (when you still smell agreeable b/c you packed travel size containers of your favorite toiletries) Also, that recommendation of packing a spare change of clothes in a carryon is imperative. I repeat, IMPERATIVE. That came in handy when I didn’t get my bags in my village for 5 days. I had even prepared to lose one bag (after that happened to Claire in Sevilla) so I packed a mix of everything in each bag (winter/summer/toiletries/shoes). That didn’t help at all when neither showed up. And for all those OCD freaks out there--I’m currently burning my amazing smelling candle that I packed, totally worth it as I sit here listening to Air Supply “Making Love Out of Nothing At All.” Moments like this, I sit in my pajamas on my twin bed and smirk knowing how weird that in itself is. Does anyone else listen to that song for entertainment?
Also, last week it finally happened. I had felt it was inevitable for the past few weeks--i’m a prime target for lame things like this. A bird shit on me when I was walking home from school. It hit my shoulder and luckily didn’t get in my hair. I actually let an F-bomb drop as I tried to wipe it off with a plant. Luckily, a Spanish construction worker took pity on me from his vehicle and offered me a napkin. Will says that being shit on by a bird is good luck and wanted to know if it had brought me any so far, I’m suspect. I think getting shit on by a bird is just like getting crapped on by life. What do you think?
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