Bchigs is in middle school

http://www.myheritage.com

Because I can fulfill pledges, just not resolutions

In keeping with my semesterly attempts to better myself, I’ve gone ahead and forced myself to write here. Furthermore, again in the same theme, I’ll be writing about my New Year’s resolutions.

You might fist realize that it’s not the new year. That was over two weeks ago. I know, I know. That’s my first strike. I haven’
I haven’t really done anything to improve myself since the ball dropped, so I’m already half-a-month behind. However, I could take this from a different point of view and say that these aren’t really New Year’s resolutions at all, simply pledges in their own right, completely unrelated to any new anything. In that way, I’ve rid myself of two problems: first, the idea that I’m behind already, and second, the naïve idea that my resolutions will happen simply because of the New Year.

Okay, so the naïveté remains, but I’m still doing it, dammit. Here they are.

• Work at least one hour a day on schoolwork, even if nothing is due.
  
• Work on fun things according to my carved dice at least an hour a day.
  
• Do exercise three or four days a week.
  
• Strive for five books this semester. It probably seems low to everyone else – baby steps here.
  
• Keep my hair (actual hair and facial) at a decent length all semester
  
• Wear my contacts every day
  
• Cook something new at least once every two weeks.
  
• Eat a piece of fruit or a salad at every meal in the UC – healthier eating?
  
• Use Netflix and get the most out of the program.
  
• Use my planner to its fullest. Heck, just use it at all would be great.
  
• Seriously start the Restaurant Club.
  
• Go to the farmers’ market at least three times this semester.
  
• Learn the lyrics to Daddy Yankee’s “Gasolina.”
  
• Try the Meditation Club.
  
• Get back into the HCO
  
• Get into CCM activities.
  
• Bone Marrow Drive
  
• Do laundry once a week
  
• Arrange weekly meals with friends. Eat alone much much less (thank goodness for my easier schedule this semester!)
  
• Make videos for the people I miss.
  
• Make a friend for no reason, ie, not from a club (or ideally a class)
  
• Become a ghost tour guide
  
• Seriously research after WM activities
  
  
  
  • Martin – linguistics grad school
    
  • George – Spanish grad school
    
  • Longo – Education grad school
    
  • Peace Corps
    
  • Teach For America
    
  • Bosnia
    
  • Argentina
  
  
• Spend ten minutes a day cleaning the room.
  
• Don’t stress. Delegate.

That’s all I can think of at the moment. My new strategy this year is to come up with as many pledges as possible so that if any happen to be completed, the semester will be a success. Let’s see how this goes.

Well, Ma'am, I think you'd wear me out actually...

When I grow up, I want to work some job that will let me flirt with old ladies. There's just something about completely innocent flirting that's so endearing, especially when it's only innocent on one side.
I don't think I'll be able to, though. If TV tells us anything, it's that I'll have to be a doctor or a country club waiter to be able to do that. Damn those waiters. They get all the luck. All the luck and all the sugar mamas.

Bored out of my mind

 
I am jumping out of my skin. I can't take this anymore. 

Buen Camino

How I feel about the Camino de Santiago in a sentence, a paragraph, and a page.

I love the Camino de Santiago!

I can't believe I actually did it! 740 km walking over one month. I made some new best friends and created some new best experiences. I didn't become the minimalists or independent I was planning on becoming, but plans seem to take a back seat to a lot on the Camino. Spain is beautiful, and I met nice Spanish people who were very kind to pilgrims. Finally, I felt moved spiritually several times in ways I definitely did not expect.

The hospitalero in Reliegos, on one of our last days of the meseta, told us the the first third of the Camino, from Roncesvalles to Burgos, was physical. The second third, from Burgos to Leon across the meseta, was psychological, and the last third, from Leon to Santiago, was spiritual.
When I first heard that, I wanted to punch the man in the face. I was in such a bad mood at the time that I told myself I didn't want to walk anymore. We had just passed the half-way point a few days previous, at which I thought "only half?" I was tired of walking. More than that, I was tired of walking to nothing. The meseta, if you are unfamiliar, is a giant plateau of flat, flat fields and little else. The past few days

This is the first post.

So, I am starting this blog over again. I've written a few things over the past two years, but it's nothing to sneeze at. It's better to just start from here.

Down there, there's probably a lot of moping and boring things. Seriously, when I read it, I tell me to get over myself. I can't imagine what you'd get out of it. Honestly, there are some nice posts, like my sandwich conspiracy theory, but for the most part, it's not worth delving into. Besides, it was all a very long time ago, and I probably couldn't tell you what it all means.

To sum up, it's best not to read past the germ.

Haplessness

Sometimes I feel like my entire life isn't what it's supposed to be. There are days when I care, but then weeks when I don't. I'm right there in one of those weeks. I hate the way I look those days - I don't shave, or put in my contacts. My other clothes are dirty and I wear things I don't like. I feel like I look significantly different this way, and I hate looking into the mirror one morning to find this always unwelcome stranger in my place. But I continue not caring for a while.

Sometimes I'm irritated by everything and everyone around me, even the people I want to be around for the rest of my life. I want to break out and do other things - something that reflects what my life is supposed to be. Away from here, away from this, away from them. I try to imagine my life as it is supposed to be, but I've never managed.

My life is not meant to be anything, I guess. I just need to accept my life as it is and just be happy with it. A lot of the time, that's quite enough. A lot of the time, I'm so excited about my world that I can't hold it inside.

It's just sometimes, only sometimes, that I try to imagine my life as it is supposed to be. But I can't.

My life is meant to be everything, I guess. These days cry out that satisfying yourself with life isn't enough. You always need to be better, smarter, more you. Happiness is supposed to come from a purpose-driven life. I guess that means that happiness is something sustainable - a state you can keep working at because working is what makes you happy. Still, though, I find it hard to believe that God would make happiness so much like restlessness.

Sometimes I'm not the person I want to be.

The Proclaimers never actually did walk, though.

After seven weeks of class and some painful research on mortality while transcending the boundaries of liminality, I made it! I'm going to Santiago de Compostela.

I'm so screwed. I haven't been walking like I should have, so hopefully I'll get right on that. There's not much more I want to say, except... jealous?

Invasione Italiana

The jig is up, Italy. I'm so on to you. You think I don't notice? Well, I do, and I've just about had it with your shenanigans. Leave our sandwiches alone.

You heard me. I'm serious. Oh, what's that you say? You don't know what I'm talking about? Well, let's just go through your calculating moves one by one.

When you came on the scene, you flew way under the radar, didn't you? Meatball subs. Remember? It was almost comical, wasn't it? Like you weren't really serious about, but hey, it could be fun! We all had our little laughs and figured you'd stop there. But you didn't, did you? Oh no. This was just the beginning.

You poked around the cheese department next. Yeah, yeah, not too much, but you made your presence known. For as long as I can remember, the white cheese was always Swiss. You didn't even have to ask. If you wanted white - Swiss, please. But ever so slowly, a new chase made its way into the cold cut aisle. Swiss, please. "Sorry, that's provolone." What? What is that? Umm, okay, yeah, I guess. For a little while, there was some confusion, until it became clear you were the round white cheese. That satisfied us - but should it have?

Pretty sneaky, sis.

Then, you were in position, weren't you? You had your foot in the door and now you were ready to make your appearance. Excuse me? You don't know what I'm talking? Well let me remind you. The panini.

That's right, the panini. Not panino, as you might say in actual Italian, but the panini. You were working that "funny business" angle again, weren't you, with the incorrect spelling? Well, it worked. You fleeced us, making us think that panini were some magic food of the gods. Look at me when I'm talking to you, Italy. I've been. You know that. You also know that panini are a street food, not this gourmet crap you'd have us believe it is. But you kept working that gourmet stuff on us, didn't you?

Damn, you were sly.

And now... now, we can't stop it. We've got prosciutto, pancetta, focaccia and ciabatta breads, and asiago cheese. When is it going to stop, Italy? When?

We thought you were satisfied with pizza. We carved a little niche for calzones. Americans love breadsticks! And the pasta. My God, the pasta! We tried to keep you happy, but that just wasn't enough, and now you've gone and taken our sandwiches. I hope you're happy.

Okay, I've said my piece; what's the next step. Clearly I've not convinced you, and the panini invasion is not stopping any time soon. Well then.. fuck you. I've had it.

PS - Don't you dare touch our hamburgers.

PPS - Forget what I said about prosciutto. I love prosciutto.

... Ahem.

Poetry

poetry
is like
a feeling
you
can't express
because
you
're too much of a
prick

to write in
prose



... Thank you.

Salsa + Ketchup + Mustard

Please tell me I'm not the only one who is tired of this chipotle trend.

Mis abuelos, circa the 1950's.

This is where I go to school. You are jealous.

Does this work?

Isabel and Me

Yep.

Mich.Mex

Just thought I´d do a little update, as I haven´t written anything since Il Peccato, I guess. Things are just fine here. We´ve visited Sta. Clara, Patzcuaro, Janitzio, and Guanajuato since I last wrote. I have lots of pictures and I intend to put some up as soon as I have some clever captions and stuff.
Things are going well at the Casa Hogar. The kids are great, even if it is hard to get them to clean or study. I don´t have pictures of them. I figure I´ll do it on the last day.
I´m about to leave for Tzintzuntzan and Quiroga, so I´ll try to update more once I get back.

The Mexican Way

Adriana called at about 9:30 and invited Victoria and me out to a little bar close to her house. I thought why not, and I got ready to go. I had no idea what I was getting into.
First off, nothing bad happened. It was just… interesting. Victoria and I took a taxi there, and we found the place completely full, with Karen and Adriana nowhere to be found. Victoria and I left for a moment just to walk around and maybe find them, but we eventually just walked back in and found them.
I was very nervous. I’m not a drinker, mostly because in the US, I can’t. But I really didn’t have a reason not to. So, I ordered a Cerveza Victoria, while the three others ordered Tequilas. I was feeling pretty calm at that point, until the waiter came back to ask what kind of tequila they wanted. It was really loud in the bar, making Spanish comprehension very difficult for the girls. In the confusion, they ended up ordering an entire bottle of tequila. That got my order canceled, leaving me to enter the world of alcohol with tequila. I got really nervous again. When Adriana found out that I’ve never really had anything, she felt bad but joke that I’m being introduced the true Mexican way.
I soon found out what the true Mexican way really is, and let me tell you, it doesn’t have much to do with drinking. Out of the blue, a guy appears between Adriana and Victoria and asks us in mildly broken English where we are from. Then, as if my magic, four more appear around us, and the pursuit began. They were like sharks, circling around the girls. They were all very distinct people:

• Leader: Wearing glasses and dressed a little better than the others, Leader was the one who first spoke and asked us who we were. He was clearly the smoothest, but he had the habit of leaning on the shoulders of two people around him. It was odd, and uncomfortable for those who were his supporters.
• Hat Guy: Wearing, obviously, a hat, Hat Guy had to be 15 years older than any of the others. He was old enough to be Karen’s father, which was disturbing considering the amount he hit on her.
• Lizard: Lizard was mostly quiet at first, but he had strategically positioned himself next to Adriana, and she soon had his full attention, and he hers for the night. He was clearly interested in her. She…. not so much. His name is Lizard because of his vague resemblance to one.
• Luis: The only one whose name I caught, his nickname is High Five. Imagine what he did. Yes, he high-fived each of us at least once, and several times instigated a “Salud” drink clinking.
• Last, but not least, is WIIILD: WIIILD is so named because he said certain words loudly and slowly, particularly wild. For the first half, WIIILD stood in the background, clearly shafted by his buddies. He came in full force, though, telling us to get WIIILD. What happens in Il Peccato, he says, stays in Il Peccato. He was an alcohol commercial, if alcohol commercials were a bit more obvious and a lot more off-putting.

It was interesting to see how they operated. They really did circle like sharks. One appeared, and the rest swarmed quickly. They made sure to talk to Victoria, who was identified at the friend who will quickly cock-block. They took shifts between Karen and Victoria, to hit on Karen, and then to appease Victoria. Lizard was on his own with Adriana. They even talked to me, to make sure I didn’t get mad, I suppose. They offered a few times to find me a girl. In the end, Lizard gave Adriana his phone number, but on our way home, we just laughed at how ridiculous they were. I guess that’s how it’s done, though.
As for the tequila, it didn’t do much. I didn’t feel much at all. It’s probably because I’m still rather scared of alcohol, even more when it’s tequila. So I didn’t have much. Nothing really happened to me, which is a good thing. I still don’t see what the deal is. It doesn’t really taste very good.
Victoria and I took a taxi home, and I waited outside my house and watched to make sure she got in okay. It turns out she was locked out of her gate. I offered to help her up to jump over, but we didn’t make it. We tried keys in the lock, but they didn’t work. Right before she gave up and used the doorbell, I reached over and opened the gate. It was unlocked.
Yeah, lack of common sense. That’s exactly what I want when I go out.

A New Friend

My second day at Casa Hogar was a little different from my first. I arrived much earlier than last time, going straight to the Casa Hogar without going to the school. The kids were sitting in the dining room, with the asst. director telling them the wonders of Christ (the Casa Hogar is Baptist Evangelical, something rare in what is basically a Catholic nation). Right after they were let go, Javier, Raul, and Omar came up to me. I tell you, they attach so quickly. I got them to do the walkways much slower this time. I had to help Adrian step by step in mopping one walkway. I met a few more boys, Juan Luis, maybe 3 or 4, and Edgar, who could not be more than 2 years old. I sat with the kids as they ate breakfast. I sat between Omar and Raul, who were competing to see who would finish first, but they were so distracted that the girls beat them both. Sulivan, who was sitting on the other side of Omar, kept grabbing my arm and holding it against his face.
After oatmeal, Julio passed out cups of orange juice. Juan Luis was at the end of the other table, and they ran out just before him. He started crying, and I felt really bad for him. Later, though, I think I saw him with what used to be Julio’s glass of juice. Good kid, that Julio.
I made a new friend today in Isabel, 4. She’s just about the most adorable a kid can get, and she has attached herself to me fully. Javier and I played tag, and I contracted Isabel to help me by sending her to ask him to carry her. It worked a lot; he’d forget we were playing and I’d catch him. I played lots of games with Isabel. I swung her around, and picked her up so she could fly like an airplane. Since Adriana and I don’t have watches, we ended up staying late 20 minutes. I told Isabel I had to go, and she just started bawling. I’m not entirely it was because of me, but I think it was. Augh. I feel so needed. It’s going to be so hard to leave at the end of the month.

Johnny B. Bad

The rest of the day was nice. We had our first culture class, about the first indigenous peoples of Mexico, and a bit of Morelian history. I came home for lunch of some excellent chicken enchiladas and then took a siesta. We went back to the university for arts class, in which we made candles. I could hardly stand the class. We all stood around the kitchen counter and watched the teacher show us different methods of candle-making. A lot of the methods it was clear to me that she was just telling us about so that could know. All the girls wanted to try them, though. They drove me crazy, especially Victoria, who wanted to try the strangest stuff, like fill her water bottle with wax to make a octagonal candle, despite the fact that the wax would warp the bottle and just make a huge mess. I just wanted to pour the wax and get out of there, but it took ages.
After class, we walked back home, making it the fourth trip of the day. These are 35-40 minute walks each, in the Mexican sun. It’s a little tiring, but fun at the same time. We see some strange stuff, like this advertisement for Skyy Vodka:



Dear John Leguizamo,
What are you doing? You need to stop that. There’s no need to prostrate yourself to the point of cheesy Mexican advertisements just because no one has seen you in anything since Moulin Rouge. America still loves you! You will always be our Luigi. Please stop hocking yourself to get in Mexico’s good graces. Besides, that’s not the way to do it. You have to put on a mask and wrestle. Duh.