one in the old tongue
This one's in English folks...
Sorry for all the Spanish and all of the unfulfilled promises for translations. Also, yeah, it's been a while...
It's been a busy couple of months. I cannot believe it's already December, and as the temperature drops and more and more Christmas music finds its way onto my ipod and into my fingers, the more I miss the way I missed home when I was in Madrid. That sounds insane I'm sure, but missing your ideal, your memories of expecting that perfect feeling of warm fuzziness at Christmastime creates the strangest dichotomy of feelings. I love Christmas. I love it in spite of it being tied to disappointment and sadness. I love that I never give up on it. Haring that music, smelling the almost snow in the air, the pine, the candles, everything, my heart swells and I swear it actually feels full. The best part is watching kids, sharing in the way they experience the magic. No matter how old I get I hope I never loose that. It is one of the few (if not the only) genuine feelings that has never disappeared from my life.
But back to the main story...I know it doesn't sound like much but working 20 hrs/week (which in typical R fashion has not actually been 20 hrs/week since like the first month I worked there) plus 3 classes is killing me. I love what I'm learning, I am truly inspired by my classmates every time I see them, and it makes me sure that I made the right choice in coming here and doing this, but it's a very time-costly endeavor. I'm still swimming Wednesdays and Fridays, lifting Mondays and doing cardio and what I like to pretend is possible triathlon prep stuff on Tuesdays and Thursdays (it's not really, I'd keel over and die like 2 miles into the bike...not to mention the run). That's pretty much the high point of my days too. I missed feeling like I was taking care of my body in a semi-healthy way. Add to that an hour commute each way to and from campus (2 hours total per day for those of you who abstain from arithmetic as a general rule), and I'm left with a scattered brain, 4ish hours of sleep per night, and zero memory for things like birthdays and except for 3 rather minor exceptions, no social life.
Enough complaining though, cause por FIN the semester is ending, I have friends (ones who are like me in maybe too many ways) to go out with, and I'm back to a more slender frame, which mean look out DC this Xmas is gonna be hot! (Not like hot! english though, really hot). Yeah anyone who knows me knows that's the biggest load of bullshit I've delivered since, oh the paper I turned in last Thursday, but whatever. It's nice to dream.
In other news, I have recently been asked repeatedly and by several people how I got to be the way I am. This, as you can well imagine inspires a great deal of thought. I was looking at old pictures when I was home over Turkey, and was forced to reflect on the eclectic journey that has been my life. When one is as fortunate as I, it's sometimes hard to count one's blessings. I feel very strongly though, that everything, good or bad, that has happened to me (or that I have made happen by sheer stubbornness and cabezotería) has been a blessing. Would I like to return to the sleepwalking or dark periods? Not especially. But it's nice to have a reminder of them around so I don't forget their value in my life. Is it really our experiences that shape us? Or is there something in us that makes us who we are? Is the whole more than the sum of its parts? And if so, what makes it so?
The biggest case on the docket these days is what I'll do when I finish my degree. I promised an awful lot of people that I'd go back to Madrid. I still feel my heart beat faster when I think about it (even though I know that a certain door is probably closed...and that hurt is deeper than I can adequately express), and despite my brain spouting off reasons it's a terrible idea, my soul seems to want to be there. That having been said, it's been a really long time since I've had this fulfilling a life. Do I really want to leave it behind to chase I don't even know what? What about my family? There are hard times ahead (surprise surprise), can I really be far away while everyone else copes? Or go back and forth and feel guilty all the while that I'm not doing them or myself justice? Can I abandon the people I love again without being sure of what I'm doing? Again?
Sigh, well an uplifting post it seems. Aren't they all? Anyway, the next couple will probably be in Spainsh. Feel free to email or something though. I should be better about getting back to people until classes start again.
Sorry for all the Spanish and all of the unfulfilled promises for translations. Also, yeah, it's been a while...
It's been a busy couple of months. I cannot believe it's already December, and as the temperature drops and more and more Christmas music finds its way onto my ipod and into my fingers, the more I miss the way I missed home when I was in Madrid. That sounds insane I'm sure, but missing your ideal, your memories of expecting that perfect feeling of warm fuzziness at Christmastime creates the strangest dichotomy of feelings. I love Christmas. I love it in spite of it being tied to disappointment and sadness. I love that I never give up on it. Haring that music, smelling the almost snow in the air, the pine, the candles, everything, my heart swells and I swear it actually feels full. The best part is watching kids, sharing in the way they experience the magic. No matter how old I get I hope I never loose that. It is one of the few (if not the only) genuine feelings that has never disappeared from my life.
But back to the main story...I know it doesn't sound like much but working 20 hrs/week (which in typical R fashion has not actually been 20 hrs/week since like the first month I worked there) plus 3 classes is killing me. I love what I'm learning, I am truly inspired by my classmates every time I see them, and it makes me sure that I made the right choice in coming here and doing this, but it's a very time-costly endeavor. I'm still swimming Wednesdays and Fridays, lifting Mondays and doing cardio and what I like to pretend is possible triathlon prep stuff on Tuesdays and Thursdays (it's not really, I'd keel over and die like 2 miles into the bike...not to mention the run). That's pretty much the high point of my days too. I missed feeling like I was taking care of my body in a semi-healthy way. Add to that an hour commute each way to and from campus (2 hours total per day for those of you who abstain from arithmetic as a general rule), and I'm left with a scattered brain, 4ish hours of sleep per night, and zero memory for things like birthdays and except for 3 rather minor exceptions, no social life.
Enough complaining though, cause por FIN the semester is ending, I have friends (ones who are like me in maybe too many ways) to go out with, and I'm back to a more slender frame, which mean look out DC this Xmas is gonna be hot! (Not like hot! english though, really hot). Yeah anyone who knows me knows that's the biggest load of bullshit I've delivered since, oh the paper I turned in last Thursday, but whatever. It's nice to dream.
In other news, I have recently been asked repeatedly and by several people how I got to be the way I am. This, as you can well imagine inspires a great deal of thought. I was looking at old pictures when I was home over Turkey, and was forced to reflect on the eclectic journey that has been my life. When one is as fortunate as I, it's sometimes hard to count one's blessings. I feel very strongly though, that everything, good or bad, that has happened to me (or that I have made happen by sheer stubbornness and cabezotería) has been a blessing. Would I like to return to the sleepwalking or dark periods? Not especially. But it's nice to have a reminder of them around so I don't forget their value in my life. Is it really our experiences that shape us? Or is there something in us that makes us who we are? Is the whole more than the sum of its parts? And if so, what makes it so?
The biggest case on the docket these days is what I'll do when I finish my degree. I promised an awful lot of people that I'd go back to Madrid. I still feel my heart beat faster when I think about it (even though I know that a certain door is probably closed...and that hurt is deeper than I can adequately express), and despite my brain spouting off reasons it's a terrible idea, my soul seems to want to be there. That having been said, it's been a really long time since I've had this fulfilling a life. Do I really want to leave it behind to chase I don't even know what? What about my family? There are hard times ahead (surprise surprise), can I really be far away while everyone else copes? Or go back and forth and feel guilty all the while that I'm not doing them or myself justice? Can I abandon the people I love again without being sure of what I'm doing? Again?
Sigh, well an uplifting post it seems. Aren't they all? Anyway, the next couple will probably be in Spainsh. Feel free to email or something though. I should be better about getting back to people until classes start again.