it's been long since you've been gone

I think that I overthought the whole blogging idea.  While I realize that my last post was made umm May 2nd, and I will still in Spain, still a junior in college, still thinking Johnny and I were super happy, and basically just alot of stuff that no longer applies.  In my defense I will say that I do have like four word documents saved in my hard drive of times I was going to post to my blog in efforts to catch up my readers, but I'm over that, at least I need to try and be.  Life is scattered and thoughts come and go, so here is my life right now and if your unsure of the last 5 months, well truth is, so am I. Instead I think that I will start focusing this blog on the sparatic, because contrary to the defenition, the term for me is constant. 

Today I was watching that movie where Ashton is the white boyfriend that Bernie Mac's daughter brings home and I started crying.  Yes, I do realize this isn't the usual movie that envokes crying, it's suppose to do the opposite even, as it's a comedy.  But there was the part where Ashton gives his little speech about finding his other half in his girlfriend and how now he can never be whole again without her.  I can't help but wish that Johnny watched this damn scene.  Truth is, just like the couple in the movie, Johnny and I are sooo completly different but together we make sense. All the sudden the attributes we don't have are there because we fill them in for eachother.  I know that without him I do feel like these are peices of me missing, and I know that he thinks the same. I just don't get how only feeling like 50% is something he can stand for, while I can barely stand up anymore.   Ugh I hate going on about him, us, our tragic romance, but I think it's because even though we aren't happy right now, I am still happy being in love with him.  Is that crazy?

With those lovey dovey thoughts also comes the negative though, so often, and that's what provokes the sparatic yet frequent crying tiffs.  I do a good job of saving face, because for the most part I can convince the onlooker and even myself sometimes that I am fine; that I am doing me, looking out for number one, and even "okay" with our situation, but its a lie. But I don't want it to be a lie.  I know that I cannot not focus on the absence of my guy, but I can focus on myself more, and in essence that should theoretically leave less time for thoughts of our tragic romance.  So I am going to start setting small  achievable goals for myself; ambitions of looking out for number one should I say.  So this week's goal: go to the gym 3 times.  That might not seem like much, but I barely ever go (bad, I know) but those 6 hours I spend at the gym are 6 hours I will be focusing on me and not use my energy on my thoughts of the guy. 

I know you can believe there is a ton of other stuff going on in my life right now, your right, but this enrty is what it is...done.    

ordinary, not feasible

So my time in Spain is fast approaching its close, DAMIT! ... and aside from worrying about how many more drinks I can consume and the number of hott boys I can find in the next two weeks, I have been thinking about how this experience has changed me.

Before coming to Spain I was pretty confident about my status as a fabu-lite, but that was before I had become like at least 50% more fabulous here; by my standards of course, and really that's all that matters, dahhhhh.  Laura, [aka Kamp, aka the roomie] and I were talking the other day about how we are truly going to miss this place.  And really its not because we love Spain so much physically, as we love the memories and the possibilities connected to our time spent here.

Signing up for an abroad tour is only a semester commitment, and with stories from friends and acquaintances you are sure that the experience will be amazing, and the times will be good to you.  But when you leave a life behind that you know so well, you really can't imagine the degree of anxiety until your sitting in a plane flying across a vast ocean, alone.  I didn't come here with a program via my school or with a companion, I came here alone.  Unaware of what I was really getting myself into I got up the courage to do something for myself that I hoped would impact my life forever and that it has. 

Day one I literally slept in a bed next to a stranger, and within weeks time we developed a friendship that usually would take months if not years to progress.  Within the same matter of weeks, myself and four other women formed a bond.  A bond that would get us through our time here in Spain and with these relationships, so much more was accomplished.
We have laughed and cried together, traveled together, slept in the same beds and on sidewalks under the same night sky, had quite a few scares, made some horrific life choices, fallen for guys, acessed life decisions and so much more.  But one thing we never did during the course of our relationship was cast judgment on one another.  Unless you have been here, you cannot relate to the feeling of utter liberation knowing that you are in a place where no one will judge you or your life, no matter what the circumstance.  To know that people are willing to be there to pick you up when you fall, dust you off, and keep it moving.  This is a lifestyle choice that we all made in order to be who we needed to be for eachother but this is equally a theory that the Spanish people have taught us. ...When your riding a metro and see an 80 year old woman rocking blue hair, blue lipstick and white pants you should really be enthrawled by the freedom she pocesses to do her without concern for sideways looks.  When a couple makes out on the middle of a side walk, or no one turns their head when there is a walk of shame parade on a Friday morning metro ride, you know that you are in a culture that doesn't care about what everyone else is doing. 

Here...
I told my most intimate secrets during a never have I ever game,
I took of my swim top at a beach with my friend,
I offered to look at a vagina to determine its welfare,
I told a friend that a man who makes a million mistakes is still worth a second chance,
I showed my girls nude photos of myself,
I shared more TMI moments than I thought possible,
I took a few for the team,
I stayed up late to listen to stories about people I never met,
I agreed that taking up smoking didn't equate to a life fail,
I friended numerous individuals within minutes of meeting,
I inhaled more second hand smoke than I knew I could,
I danced to music I hate,
I ate more carbs than I should have,
and
I was never afraid to be me.
And hey maybe I did make some poor life choices, but its better to have lived and learned than to have never lived at all.

Like Laura said, when my kids ask me what I did when I was young, I will tell them that I would have done it all if I could, because I was open to anything, I was never afraid to step outside the box, and dance naked in the rain.  I most importantly learned that the concept of judging others only means having too much concern for choices that are not my own.  I was young in Spain and I lived young in Spain, I did the type of things that you can only do in your 20's, and I am ready for this course to wind further.  Because once you've really lived, the alternatives don't really compare. This is the time in your life where you have to find yourself, through yourself, not by means of societal views and you cannot get what that means until you do.   Being content shouldn't be an option, nothing less than epic seems feasible.  So when I say that I have changed, its not a question of whether its been for the good, the answer is that it's been for me. 

party like its 1999

So last night I was up pretty late, as usual, just wondering the social networks of the World Wide Web, as usual, and I decided to relive some recent memories via my facebook tagged photos; and it got me thinking about partying.  Since I have been in Spain I have partied harder than I ever have, and while of course my opportunity time has been short, considering I am a mere 21, I have concluded that is NO excuse.  I had been in college for two and a half years prior to coming to Spain and I am only now realizing my Thursday through Saturdays were not being spent wisely; I mean am I serious? I go to effin Umass Amherst, also known as like party school capital of the Northeast! 

Thinking of my friends back home I am realizing there are just too many excuses. I can't count the number of times we were turned off by a party because it was too crowded, or the line was too long… I mean would we even be interested if it was empty, no one was in there so we could breeze right through? 

Then there is the whole concept of being sweaty, which I will admit isn’t the best feeling, but who the hell cares? I mean is there any reason to think that you would not have access to a nice hot shower afterwards? "No." And I don't know about the rest of you all but I could stand to lose a solid ten pounds in water weight, and if all it takes is a night of dancing, well then that sounds like an epic workout plan to say the least… come one ladies, water weight gone after a consistent party agenda!  

Then there is the issue of having nothing to wear, but everyone has a friend with clothes they can swap, a little big or a little small, it all looks the same in a dark club.  I mean me and my best friend Kendra go as far as shopping around eachothers wardrobe, hmmm this dress will go great with Kendra's pumps, so, "Throw it in the bag!" 

Another huge concern can be money and yes I understand we all deal with that especially with the pay of campus jobs, I know, but ladies are most often free before 11pm.  Yes I realize that many times no one is there prior to the gratuity start time, but if your'e looking good, out with your baddest chicks and maybe even have a drink or two in the system, there is no reason you can't wait it out shootin the shit and posing for a mini photoshoot (and truly it's the best time because once the men come the cameras are forgotten about and outfits go unrecorded! Ugh, waste!)  And if you do spend the money, realize that there is little else you spend your money on during the week especially when you are on a dorm living/dining hall lifestyle, or at work and school all week and then right home to sleep.  

I mean the way I see it, being young is a temporary in both its physical and mental state, and regardless of how young you stay at heart, there will come a time when work, marriage, bills, kids and adult obligations won’t allow for the carefree partying ways of the college youth.  Plus old people in the club equals not cute, sorry it's true. So use the present to do what won't be available to do in the future, party like its 1999, hold up, that passed, so that means you should have been partying since way before.  

 
It’s not to late to make up for lost time so put on your friend's top, spend the $10, wait in the long line and sweat your hair our because before you know it you'll be wishing you had! 


Written During: #nowplaying 1999

don't stop the rain

So after a late start to my day, and time spent in Camille's (my long lost sister I found in Spain) room with the shades down, creating the allusion that it was still night; I made my way outside in what I hoped was sunlight and warmth.  To my dismay, like many days in Bilbao, it was raining.  Without my fabulous 5euro umbrella from a gypsy vendor in Algorta or much needed footwear, I began my 35-minute journey feeling unprepared and hence unenthused.  Trudging to the metro station my thoughts we elsewhere, daydreaming with the help of an epic ipod playlist is always a suggested way to pass the time.  After a quick eight minutes of waiting underground, the Plentzia metro pulled up and I was on my way.  

Being welcomed by a surprisingly full metro {considering Sundays in Spain means stay at home and do nothing} I found a seat in a booth accompanying three other women.  These women, like the rest of the passengers on the metro that afternoon, didn't seem phased by the dreary scenery as we glided along the tracks to the rhythm of a steady rainfall.  In the Basque Country it actually rains more days than not, so I imagine years of residency has made for indifference towards the rain amongst its inhabitants.  I on the other hand come from the Northeast de Estados Unidos where it does not rain more than not, though from what I hear as of late, the area had been experiencing some heavy downpours, mother nature does not make a habit of unleashing her watercan wrath over the region.  Needless to say I continued to keep much of my attention directed out the window as I rode to my destination.  And somewhere in between my long hatred of the rain and the Bidezabal metro stop, I realized that I must be real self involved to hate the rain.

I am not sure if it was where I was sitting on the metro or if it was the tranquil presence of my fellow passengers, but during this twenty-minute ride I came to the conclusion that I should be ashamed for my loathing of the rain.  I mean, my goodness, who am I to say or dare judge how Mother Nature or meteorology chooses to function.  I am so minute in a world full of so much more, and most times when it rains, my greatest concern is the well being of my hair, because I like most, am prone to frizz.  My last entry on how much I loved the beauty of spring and summer's flawlessness could not be made possible without the rain to hydrate the plant life that I love so greatly. 


If we didn't have rain who would be the waterers of all plant life? Not a job that I would like to do, and thought right now in a jobless economy, a plantwaterer trade might be perfect for the countless unemployed, but then again it may also be something that is cut back on, thousands could be laid off and the world would have to deal with being a little less green. 


On that note, I like to eat, like so many do of course, and even if that weren’t the case, eating is a must …without the rain, vegetation seems dismal, and really the whole of the food chain would be off, somehow starving more people than the vast number there already is.  So with these new enlightened thoughts filling my head I got off the metro at my stop and during the walk to my apartment I saw the once gloomy surroundings in a new light.  

The sound of the raindrops hitting the pavement made a greater impression than any song on my playlist and the roll of the thunder made for an even greater rhythm.  The gray of the sky was no different than my favorite tee shirt, the water trickling from blades of grass and running down flower pedals was a sight for sore eyes, the hurried shuffle of the people made for a unique people watching session. Truly I took in something beautiful that walk home, and while this entry may seem a little hippie or go green of me, I think that it should be more of a wake up call to realize how much we all in fact need the rain.  And if nothing else, understand that when you can't beat it, join…and the rain isn't going anywhere, at least I surely hope not. 
  


Written During #nowplaying: Please Dont Stop the Rain by James Morrison

La Primavera

Now, whether is is because my name is in fact the expression of an epic day in June ...when the warmth of sunlight hits exactly where you are on Earth so perfectly that you wonder if there had ever been a better moment? And so you smile because the fact that you cannot open your eyes without squinting and the anxiety of being followed by a black and yellow predator doesn't quite bother you because you take that risk as you enter a public museum of nature's flawlessness in the presence of an endless floral wonder.  ... or because I am just a warmblooded human being... I do believe there is little in this continuum of time, better than a delightful spring day.  This dia de la primavera I find myself in Bilbao, Spain, where the last few days have been equally as wondrous.  The beauty of this city reminds me of the glamor I see in episodes of Sex and the City or The Hills, and while Boston is of course breathtaking as well, the city has yet to have a major pop culture series filmed within its limits.  

I started my day kayaking in the Nervion River that runs through the gorgeous city of Bilbao, and as the sun hit the water and I looked around, I truly felt happy to be alive.  Later my amigas and I wondered down the Gran Via; the bustling crowds of the area made for an ideal movie set.  Loving this weather, just two days prior I found myself very Alice in Wonderland esc as I sat under the limited shade a tree on a hill of grass outside my University and fell asleep to the narrative of James F Cooper, waking as a fell down a rabbit hole, no not really, actually waking to the laughter of students playing Frisbee and a caterpillar joining my alone time.  Soon after I gathered my stuff, ipod in tote listening to my new favorite- Dom Kennedy, to walk along the river and take an impromptu Guggenheim photo shoot.  Walking the cobble stone streets of this beautiful city and gazing at the sun through the architecture of creatures nothing less than artists, puts a smile on my face and makes me appreciate life even more. 


Advice, study abroad if you have the opportunity; travel, live! 


Written During #nowplaying: 500 Day of Summer Soundtrack        

 

curls as of late

So last March right before a fabulous Spring Break getaway, me and the bestie decided that it was time for a fresh start, in our terms, this means saying goodbye to all the overheated, dyed, permed hair etc.  Though at the time the results seemed dramatic, it is a widely known fact that your 20's is the best time to experiment with hair, so we took our seats in the over priced, yet fabulous Bangz Salon http://www.bangz.net/, of Montclair NJ.  Pleased of course, i walked out into the basking sunlight with natural curly locks springing into action and I knew at that moment that my curls were beyond the rest.  I vowed that I would steer free of alcohol based products, gels, dyes and the like. 

At the time I had no idea that day would spark the beginning of a cutting spree for myself.  Only months after I found myself longing for the A-line bob that was sweeping fashion magazines and trendy females all over.  Soon after that fix I was back in the salon chair desperate for and angle more acute...within weeks I woke and the back had diminished at the unstoppable edges of the clippers.  As I entered August, I did so with minimal locks.  At the climax of my cutting spree I walk into the salon and told my hairdresser I was at her disposal, my only request being, "I want it all gone."  Pleased with my Rihanna rendition I up kept the cut until November when the harsh colds on New England baring down on my neck, made me miss the sanctuary provided by my formerly flowing locks.  

Holding strong for some time with the help of curling creams and organic products I finally gave in to the temptation of the wonders of mouse.  And ringing in a new year and a new look of course called for a an escape from the awkward new growth with the evil seductions of the ceramic flat iron and the satisfaction guaranteed propaganda of Garnier Nutrisse Nourishing Color Cream haircolor.

Needless to say now I am in another awkward stage full of regret and uncertainty for the welfare of my curls.  For now I turn to new styles in hopes that the creativity will mask the inability of my hair to stand flawless in its most natural state. 






Written During #nowplaying: I am Not My Hair by India Arie