I’m going to be queen someday if I can get out of my parents house.
Nothing but nostalgia as of late. All things are at a stand-still. The shock at what's changed hasn't left in days. Being home for days with nothing to do is grating on my softening mind.
Not like I’ve had absolutely nothing to do. The girls are home now so that's wonderful. There's a boy now that I can't stop smiling about. Having him here at home has been a huge relief and help to my sanity. We walk dogs and go to dive bars and drive around and get Starbucks and do all sorts of vomit-worthy things. It's great and keeps me distracted from what's happened.
I don't know what's happened yet. I'm here on the coast for, well, forever? It's raining. So far today my phone calls have been from Florida, Philly and New York. We used to all be in the same place only a few weeks ago.
Bonas is no longer mine. I can’t handle that. I can’t handle that I can’t say I go there anymore. I’m no student. I’m an alum. What is that?! I hate how some of those I love will go on loving Bonas and I can’t be a part of it anymore. It had to happen, I understand, but it doesn’t change that fact that I feel like my experience was stolen away so fast. I don’t feel betrayed by the school, but upset. It’s like when you’re little and you think you and your best friend are going to be together forever, then you see her laughing with someone else. Realistically I can’t expect Bonas to be mine forever, but I don’t want to share. I don’t want to give it up. Not even that, but I really had no choice in the matter either- I finished up my credits in time and I had to leave.
Moving on.
This was from a while ago. I got a bad grade on it. It's still one my favorites and I keep going back to fix it. Nothing new has come to mind for a while to write about. So, I'll post old shit. It's got to be my environment- at my age, after four years of residential freedom, moving back home is suffocating. I've been lucky enough not to have to spend too much time in the house, but the times I do are unbearable. I'm half tempted to take the couple grand I was thrown for a car and use it for a down payment on an apartment instead. That might be the lesser evil, I can't tell right now. It's only been a week and a half. Oh, an eternal week and a half.
Andrew text messages me with the 15 euro cents he has left on his pay-as-you-go phone. “Meet me at the plaza”, it simply says.
Plaza-time. I walk forever in the night. We have no goal in mind besides to live. My pace gets faster as I anticipate the evening ahead of us.
We greet and he loops his hand inside the shoulder strap on my coat. His club shirt clings to him and his fluffy brown hair covers mischievous eyes. I can tell he’s hoping to snag a boy-toy tonight. With everything familiar in place, we head out into the darkness for a night of unknown. We’re off to the discothèques.
He throws his head back as if struck by lightning. Over and over again the chorus repeats the punch line. A wave of movement surges through crowd. I'm getting seasick with the green strobes pulsing and the bodies going up and down. Go, heavy, go. Go. GO! People stomp the wooden floor, like they’re trying to get through to the bottom level. I almost can’t handle it - I grab the railing in front of me for stability, reality. Andrew is using it to catapult himself out into the wave. I feel it, though, the legend of this smooth, old railing overlooking everything.
It has power. The power to move you, to rip any inhibition from your mind. Andrew looks over with a quick wink and transferred all his energy into me. I moved. ¡Múevete! People scream. It’s all so urgent. Everything that goes on during the week is lost. All that matters is your arms are in the air and you feel your duende, your soul. My own flies out of me and meets everyone in that cramped dance club. I get why they all were there. I was there to forget and to feel, all at the same time. The music never ended. It never does.
………
Next night.
¡Ay Dío! ¡Eso es! Oh my God! That is it!
The floor vibrates. The heartbeat goes on. He wails and wails a flamenco song of sorrow. Clap clap clap. Will passes me a Corona and grins. It slides across the dirty table into my shaking hand. Jesus, his eyes are blue. In a flash I’m back at the table. The crooked stage is inches from my tapping foot as the men continue to bang on their guitars. They are not playing anymore; they are breathing and beating life into the strings. I’ve never heard such desperate music and noises in my life.
Then the gypsy comes out, emerges from the sea of men and she stands. She is one of the ugliest women I’ve ever seen. Her mole takes over her nose and I think her hair is starting to slide off from the grease. But she stomps, stomps her foot in demands of attention. STOMP!
She grabs me; how dare she. I'm forced into her world. The face of this woman twists into agony; I wonder if her shoes are full of broken glass with such a grimace at every step. My hand moving through the air in time to the swishes of her skirt caught Will’s attention. Cute, he thinks I’ve lost it. Maybe I have, I’m about ready to join the gypsy world strike. This woman could triumph over everything with her dance.
I am in love with this country and I have conquered it. I can speak their language and feel their rhythms. I know the religion and have wooed the people. At this point, it is done. Little bits of me have scattered everywhere into the Spanish wind. I am invincible and this will never end. I swig some more beer down and my convictions seem truer than ever. The gypsies will live forever.
………
I needed to take a walk. I’m so angry the Guadalquivir River could be lazy at a time like this. I wanted the water to boil. It would rage on towards the ocean in a fit of frustration. Boats would be lost in the chaos. Good, I hope you drown. I hate you Sevilla, for not letting this last forever. Why can't I be eternal like you, river? This is too much.
………
I totally forgot about Fran. Fran is going to want to see me. I have 12 hours, I can do this. I can cram an entire three months, a million times over, into this last night. I know I can.
I’ll deal with him later though. All day I’ve been buying things. For months I passed by the souvenirs and temptations. Rae and I are now unstoppable. Trinidad and America come together to win the consumer race through the windy streets of Spain. Her dreadlocks bounce behind her as I struggle to keep up. The girl’s on a mission and her credit card limit is way higher than mine. I’m much less motivated to burn through the end of my savings. There’s almost nothing left. I think I’m going to puke. People weren’t meant to move fast on a stomach full of red wine.
Her phone rings. It’s the novio, her boyfriend, and he wants to take us girls out one more time.
“Rae, have you lost your damn mind?! I can’t go out with you and Rafa, I leave the country tomorrow morning!”
“Listen, we’ll go back, get your stuff together. We have time.”
“We could’ve had more time if we didn’t shop all day, Rae.”
“Yeah, my bad. Wait, weren’t you supposed to call Fran? He’s going to want to see you, guapa.”
“Wonderful, alright, I’ll do that, we have to get back NOW. I have to pack.”
Racing back to the apartment I call my own novio.
Francisco doesn’t speak a word of English. I have no idea how our meeting happened. One minute I’m on the dance floor with my girlfriends, and in the next I’m being complimented by a tall native with long hair on my dance. For the next couple hours we fight back and forth to communicate. I’d give myself a passing grade, because I did at least catch that he wanted to take me out for coffee the next day. After the coffee date, where we both had our dictionaries out on the table while I tried to explain American baseball, he still wanted to see me. I suppose that makes us a temporary item.
“Hola, Fran? Que haces? Quieres ir conmigo? Lo sè, Fran, perdon. Sí, mi noche final. Por supuesto, vale. Venga aqui en viente minutos.”
“Hey, Fran? What are you doing? Do you want to come out with me? I know Fran, I’m sorry. Yeah, it’s my last day. Of course, OK. Come here in 20 minutes.”
I have 20 minutes to get my life together. Drunk. Crying. My emotions are out of control. I am furiously tossing things into my only duffel bag. Rae tries to direct the traffic of flying clothes, Spanish fans, trash and textbooks. My Rae of sunshine. This was it for us. I was so glad she is here to keep me on task.
While running out to Fran and his rusty old European car it dawns on me. How will I get to the airport in the morning?! Almost in tears again I tell this to Fran and he immediately offers to take care of it all for me. No worries.
No pasa nada, guapa.
I cry anyways.
Everything else is perfect. We girls continue our wine binge from the shopping excursion while the boys lavish us with an expensive dinner at an Italian restaurant. At the bar afterwards Rae and I exchange looks of disbelief. We did it; we immersed ourselves in everything Sevilla has to offer. We are completely heartbroken and satisfied at the same time. Our skin might betray us but no one would ever think we didn't belong. We were sewn into everything around the cathedral, in our mugs of margarita, the glances of passion. The good times go until the sun rises for our last time in the city. Fran drives me to the airport and I barely make my flight.
………
Things that huge shouldn’t be able to get off the ground. I already needed something stiff to get me though the constant chatter of my blonde sorority-girl seatmate. Taking off, I melt into my seat and the memories.
From September to December my life was insane. It all came to a screeching halt as the inevitable end arrived. Three days after finals was all we had to say goodbye to friends, boyfriends, housemothers, professors and Spanish soul mates. Some pulled it off more gracefully than others. Jason shook a few hands and exchanged an e-mail or two before walking off with his new Sevillana girlfriend into the proverbial sunset. Others, like Sara, cried herself to sleep in the seat of the Boeing 747, taking her home to Chicago.
Even as customs loomed ahead and I knew I'd be going onto Boston by myself, I smiled at the Florida boys and joked about missing our connecting flights as if we were going to turn around and be back in class tomorrow. Robert hugged me to try to express all the feelings of loss in a few last frantic seconds. I pretended he really wasn't leaving, that none of them were really leaving me. It all faded behind me as I went down the eternal hallway, alone. I was going to a place, a once familiar place where no one could understand what just happened to me in Spain. All I know is I have to hold on to the memory of my life there, even if it means only partly-living from now on. It’s the only way things will stay real to me.
Was it real?
I’m going to be queen someday if I can get out of my parents house. I can’t wait until Kara gets here, I miss her. I hope I get to see Christian tonight. If I luck out, maybe a job will surface soon.
Routine. I need it. It will come. Thing will work out, right? No way can I be the only one feeling lost right now. I know I'm not the only one.
Pray for the lost ones. It's not a sad lost, it's indescribable. I've never been here before i limbo, there's always been a central worry or care. Wonder where this all will lead...
Not like I’ve had absolutely nothing to do. The girls are home now so that's wonderful. There's a boy now that I can't stop smiling about. Having him here at home has been a huge relief and help to my sanity. We walk dogs and go to dive bars and drive around and get Starbucks and do all sorts of vomit-worthy things. It's great and keeps me distracted from what's happened.
I don't know what's happened yet. I'm here on the coast for, well, forever? It's raining. So far today my phone calls have been from Florida, Philly and New York. We used to all be in the same place only a few weeks ago.
Bonas is no longer mine. I can’t handle that. I can’t handle that I can’t say I go there anymore. I’m no student. I’m an alum. What is that?! I hate how some of those I love will go on loving Bonas and I can’t be a part of it anymore. It had to happen, I understand, but it doesn’t change that fact that I feel like my experience was stolen away so fast. I don’t feel betrayed by the school, but upset. It’s like when you’re little and you think you and your best friend are going to be together forever, then you see her laughing with someone else. Realistically I can’t expect Bonas to be mine forever, but I don’t want to share. I don’t want to give it up. Not even that, but I really had no choice in the matter either- I finished up my credits in time and I had to leave.
Moving on.
This was from a while ago. I got a bad grade on it. It's still one my favorites and I keep going back to fix it. Nothing new has come to mind for a while to write about. So, I'll post old shit. It's got to be my environment- at my age, after four years of residential freedom, moving back home is suffocating. I've been lucky enough not to have to spend too much time in the house, but the times I do are unbearable. I'm half tempted to take the couple grand I was thrown for a car and use it for a down payment on an apartment instead. That might be the lesser evil, I can't tell right now. It's only been a week and a half. Oh, an eternal week and a half.
Andrew text messages me with the 15 euro cents he has left on his pay-as-you-go phone. “Meet me at the plaza”, it simply says.
Plaza-time. I walk forever in the night. We have no goal in mind besides to live. My pace gets faster as I anticipate the evening ahead of us.
We greet and he loops his hand inside the shoulder strap on my coat. His club shirt clings to him and his fluffy brown hair covers mischievous eyes. I can tell he’s hoping to snag a boy-toy tonight. With everything familiar in place, we head out into the darkness for a night of unknown. We’re off to the discothèques.
He throws his head back as if struck by lightning. Over and over again the chorus repeats the punch line. A wave of movement surges through crowd. I'm getting seasick with the green strobes pulsing and the bodies going up and down. Go, heavy, go. Go. GO! People stomp the wooden floor, like they’re trying to get through to the bottom level. I almost can’t handle it - I grab the railing in front of me for stability, reality. Andrew is using it to catapult himself out into the wave. I feel it, though, the legend of this smooth, old railing overlooking everything.
It has power. The power to move you, to rip any inhibition from your mind. Andrew looks over with a quick wink and transferred all his energy into me. I moved. ¡Múevete! People scream. It’s all so urgent. Everything that goes on during the week is lost. All that matters is your arms are in the air and you feel your duende, your soul. My own flies out of me and meets everyone in that cramped dance club. I get why they all were there. I was there to forget and to feel, all at the same time. The music never ended. It never does.
………
Next night.
¡Ay Dío! ¡Eso es! Oh my God! That is it!
The floor vibrates. The heartbeat goes on. He wails and wails a flamenco song of sorrow. Clap clap clap. Will passes me a Corona and grins. It slides across the dirty table into my shaking hand. Jesus, his eyes are blue. In a flash I’m back at the table. The crooked stage is inches from my tapping foot as the men continue to bang on their guitars. They are not playing anymore; they are breathing and beating life into the strings. I’ve never heard such desperate music and noises in my life.
Then the gypsy comes out, emerges from the sea of men and she stands. She is one of the ugliest women I’ve ever seen. Her mole takes over her nose and I think her hair is starting to slide off from the grease. But she stomps, stomps her foot in demands of attention. STOMP!
She grabs me; how dare she. I'm forced into her world. The face of this woman twists into agony; I wonder if her shoes are full of broken glass with such a grimace at every step. My hand moving through the air in time to the swishes of her skirt caught Will’s attention. Cute, he thinks I’ve lost it. Maybe I have, I’m about ready to join the gypsy world strike. This woman could triumph over everything with her dance.
I am in love with this country and I have conquered it. I can speak their language and feel their rhythms. I know the religion and have wooed the people. At this point, it is done. Little bits of me have scattered everywhere into the Spanish wind. I am invincible and this will never end. I swig some more beer down and my convictions seem truer than ever. The gypsies will live forever.
………
I needed to take a walk. I’m so angry the Guadalquivir River could be lazy at a time like this. I wanted the water to boil. It would rage on towards the ocean in a fit of frustration. Boats would be lost in the chaos. Good, I hope you drown. I hate you Sevilla, for not letting this last forever. Why can't I be eternal like you, river? This is too much.
………
I totally forgot about Fran. Fran is going to want to see me. I have 12 hours, I can do this. I can cram an entire three months, a million times over, into this last night. I know I can.
I’ll deal with him later though. All day I’ve been buying things. For months I passed by the souvenirs and temptations. Rae and I are now unstoppable. Trinidad and America come together to win the consumer race through the windy streets of Spain. Her dreadlocks bounce behind her as I struggle to keep up. The girl’s on a mission and her credit card limit is way higher than mine. I’m much less motivated to burn through the end of my savings. There’s almost nothing left. I think I’m going to puke. People weren’t meant to move fast on a stomach full of red wine.
Her phone rings. It’s the novio, her boyfriend, and he wants to take us girls out one more time.
“Rae, have you lost your damn mind?! I can’t go out with you and Rafa, I leave the country tomorrow morning!”
“Listen, we’ll go back, get your stuff together. We have time.”
“We could’ve had more time if we didn’t shop all day, Rae.”
“Yeah, my bad. Wait, weren’t you supposed to call Fran? He’s going to want to see you, guapa.”
“Wonderful, alright, I’ll do that, we have to get back NOW. I have to pack.”
Racing back to the apartment I call my own novio.
Francisco doesn’t speak a word of English. I have no idea how our meeting happened. One minute I’m on the dance floor with my girlfriends, and in the next I’m being complimented by a tall native with long hair on my dance. For the next couple hours we fight back and forth to communicate. I’d give myself a passing grade, because I did at least catch that he wanted to take me out for coffee the next day. After the coffee date, where we both had our dictionaries out on the table while I tried to explain American baseball, he still wanted to see me. I suppose that makes us a temporary item.
“Hola, Fran? Que haces? Quieres ir conmigo? Lo sè, Fran, perdon. Sí, mi noche final. Por supuesto, vale. Venga aqui en viente minutos.”
“Hey, Fran? What are you doing? Do you want to come out with me? I know Fran, I’m sorry. Yeah, it’s my last day. Of course, OK. Come here in 20 minutes.”
I have 20 minutes to get my life together. Drunk. Crying. My emotions are out of control. I am furiously tossing things into my only duffel bag. Rae tries to direct the traffic of flying clothes, Spanish fans, trash and textbooks. My Rae of sunshine. This was it for us. I was so glad she is here to keep me on task.
While running out to Fran and his rusty old European car it dawns on me. How will I get to the airport in the morning?! Almost in tears again I tell this to Fran and he immediately offers to take care of it all for me. No worries.
No pasa nada, guapa.
I cry anyways.
Everything else is perfect. We girls continue our wine binge from the shopping excursion while the boys lavish us with an expensive dinner at an Italian restaurant. At the bar afterwards Rae and I exchange looks of disbelief. We did it; we immersed ourselves in everything Sevilla has to offer. We are completely heartbroken and satisfied at the same time. Our skin might betray us but no one would ever think we didn't belong. We were sewn into everything around the cathedral, in our mugs of margarita, the glances of passion. The good times go until the sun rises for our last time in the city. Fran drives me to the airport and I barely make my flight.
………
Things that huge shouldn’t be able to get off the ground. I already needed something stiff to get me though the constant chatter of my blonde sorority-girl seatmate. Taking off, I melt into my seat and the memories.
From September to December my life was insane. It all came to a screeching halt as the inevitable end arrived. Three days after finals was all we had to say goodbye to friends, boyfriends, housemothers, professors and Spanish soul mates. Some pulled it off more gracefully than others. Jason shook a few hands and exchanged an e-mail or two before walking off with his new Sevillana girlfriend into the proverbial sunset. Others, like Sara, cried herself to sleep in the seat of the Boeing 747, taking her home to Chicago.
Even as customs loomed ahead and I knew I'd be going onto Boston by myself, I smiled at the Florida boys and joked about missing our connecting flights as if we were going to turn around and be back in class tomorrow. Robert hugged me to try to express all the feelings of loss in a few last frantic seconds. I pretended he really wasn't leaving, that none of them were really leaving me. It all faded behind me as I went down the eternal hallway, alone. I was going to a place, a once familiar place where no one could understand what just happened to me in Spain. All I know is I have to hold on to the memory of my life there, even if it means only partly-living from now on. It’s the only way things will stay real to me.
Was it real?
I’m going to be queen someday if I can get out of my parents house. I can’t wait until Kara gets here, I miss her. I hope I get to see Christian tonight. If I luck out, maybe a job will surface soon.
Routine. I need it. It will come. Thing will work out, right? No way can I be the only one feeling lost right now. I know I'm not the only one.
Pray for the lost ones. It's not a sad lost, it's indescribable. I've never been here before i limbo, there's always been a central worry or care. Wonder where this all will lead...