In other news I'm trying to write something at least once a day. In the absence of anything particularly artistic, important or "good" to write, I will undoubtedly escape here, only to write a few acerbic sentences about my cheeky greetings at Family Video. 

Life is never simple, and I think that by college boys should have pecs. At least.

  Yesterday I was so excited by the novelty of this blog that I skipped right past the formal introductions.  As a result I have already brought a sense of awkwardness to my blog. The first post deals with the beheading of Hitler and the second post will go on to introduce me.  The queen of awkwardity.

My name is Laura, I am a teacher, I am a writer, my biggest achievement is making it to the ripe age of 23 in one piece.  I'm Canadian born and raised, but at 22 after finishing my first degree I decided to take a break from Western culture and journey across the pacific to the land of Kimchi and the morning calm - also known as South Korea.  I have spent my year teaching English among other things to young children in a Canadian school.  Now, with two and a half weeks remaining, I very much look forward to my return to the mother land.

On August 5th, 2008 I will marry one of the greatest men on the planet (tied for first place with my father) on a beach in the Caribbean. We have done zero wedding planning (other than picking out what we're going to wear) so I'm sure it will be an interesting day. We're kind of leaving everything up to the resort wedding planner.  Just the way we like it.  Pass the work off to someone else and forget about it.  I suppose I fly in the face of the stereotypical bride in that I just want to show up and have everything ready.  I haven't dreamed about the day since I was a little girl, so I'm sure whatever the wedding planner decides will be fine.

I am quirky as is my fiance.  It's why we fit so well.  We enjoy making fun of people and are easily annoyed by strangers and co-workers. We like playing jokes on people and scaring them by jumping out at them from behind doors. Especially children.  Have you ever scared a child?  Hey, don't knock it 'till you try it!

I am opinionated. I am passionate.  I am passionate about writing. I am passionate about music. I love politics.  I love discussing issues. I am down-to-earth.  I am laid-back. I have a temper. I am competitive. I am 3 parts introvert and 1 part extrovert. I am a better writer than I am a speaker. I am compassionate. I am nerdy. I love to learn. I love to teach. I am afraid of everything. I take risks. I am obtuse. I am acute. I am a right angle. I am an equilateral. I suck at common sense math. I am genuine. I am whoever I say I am, in the paper, the news, everyday I am. I am bad at introductions. I hate small talk. Sometimes I hide from people I almost know in the mall. I am a small-town girl.  I am stopping now.

Let's figure this out as we go.

Being the day before I leave for counterpart day in Managua, and going on my site visit, today I was planning on resting. Unfortunately, I had a laundry list of things to do so I definitely did everything but rest.

The day started out with me rolling out of bed and going down to the local barber shop to get my haircut. “Dile que querés el mismo corte, pero más chiquito, y no querés pelón.” So that’s what I went to the barber and told him – same haircut, but shorter, don’t buzz my hair. I was really nervous as the last time I attempted to get my hair cut away from home was in DC at Great Clips and it went horribly wrong. The lady had no idea what I was talking about and effectively screwed it up. I was so terrified at what she was doing that I left in the middle of my haircut.

However, that was not the case with this guy. I told him what I wanted and he just went at it. There was no chatting, no measuring to make sure it was the right length – he just eyeballed it. Immediately upon seeing this I thought, “Oh my god no,” but after I saw how it was turning out, I became amazed – why wasn’t Great Clips this effective? It was so efficient – comb, cut, comb, cut. In about 7 minutes (I timed it), my hair was completely cut. He just had a pair of scissors, so I was wondering how he was planning on doing the sideburns and the back of my neck – until he busted out the straight razor. I was super nervous about that one as I had never used one before, but he just swapped out a new razor blade (which strangely look like the same razor blades my dad in the U.S. uses for construction) went at it and gave me the closest shave I’ve ever had in my life. After the shave, he busted out the industrial strength hair gel and effectively turned me into Ricky Ricardo – I got a picture, don’t worry. Oh yea, and the final cost of my not-too-shabby haircut? In dollars - $1.03 – that’s not a typo, one dollar and three cents. Yea, I can’t believe it either.

I headed home after the haircut, took a shower, and then Oliver showed up. He’s supposed to come over to practice his English with me…but we always just end up speaking in Spanish anyway. He hung out for about an hour, and I headed over to Jordan’s house to get pictures off of Danica’s camera (I posted some of them). After that, it was lunch, then time to head over for a quick training session at Olla de Barro.

The medical officer told me that I’d be getting the first shot of my post-exposure rabies vaccine there, but when I saw her she just told me I’d get it tomorrow. Uh…great. She gave me the option of going back to Managua with her and spending the night in the hospital, but since I hadn’t packed or anything, I just said I’d show up tomorrow. But then she broke the bad news to me – I have ANOTHER shot I have to get 2 days afterward. This means that when I’m in Achuapa (aka – the middle of nowhere), I have to hop on a bus for the 4.5 hour trip back to Managua just for the second shot. I’m going to spend 200 cordobas just to get this shot – irate. But it doesn’t end there. Since I live in such an isolated place, I won’t be able to get back to Achuapa before the buses stop running that afternoon. So this probably will mean I’ll be spending the night in Managua, going to Achuapa in the morning, hanging out afternoon Saturday, and then leaving on Sunday for Masatepe. I effectively will waste 2 days of my site visit because I have to get this damn shot. $#@*!

The rest of the day after training consisted of me bombing around town on the bike, running errands, and paying for half an hour at the internet café, and actually staying 2.5 hours. I threw a bunch of crap in a bag for my site visit for tomorrow, so I’m pretty much just crossing my fingers that I’m bringing enough crap because I’m definitely not going to double check to make sure.

Bring on Achuapa!

July 1st

I was pretty excited upon waking up, as today was the day we would all be meeting our counterparts. Fortunately, Jordan called me up right after I woke up to tell me that her host dad was going to Managua anyway. Being Mr. Pinche, this meant I got to save myself 23 cords – that’s like 3 ice creams!

Upon hearing that we’d be getting a ride, I was stoked. However, after 5 minutes on the highway, I saw my life flash before my eyes. Nicaraguan drivers are literally the worst drivers on the planet – and it’s something they’re proud of too. I’ve never been on a ride where I’ve been so close to being in a serious accident, so frequently, in my entire life. Luckily we arrived sans incident (but the ride ended up being roughly as uncomfortable as the ride in the microbus (do to the unscheduled pickups we made as well as sitting on my bag the entire time).

We showed up to find a handful of volunteers already there, and ended up waiting with them for a little bit before hopping the first Peace Corps truck to Ciudad de Dios, some huge compound in the middle of Managua. There were roughly 90 counterparts for all the TEFL and SBD volunteers there ready to greet us, most of whom were completely ecstatic to be there. We went through the basics (PC goals, how we’ll be working together, what to expect of counterparts/volunteers), and then split up into our respective TEFL and SBD groups. There we did a small ice breaker with all the counterparts and volunteers, then introduced ourselves to our counterparts.

Lunchtime rolled around and I had to be dragged off to the Peace Corps med office to get the first of my 2 post-exposure rabies shots. It ended up being a lot more difficult than it should have been as I ended up waiting an hour before I could finally get a ride to the office. To make things worse, after getting my shot, after a phone call from an unidentified person, the med office wanted to talk to me again. They interrogated me about why I shake and was concerned that I was super stressed out. I told them I had tremors and that I wasn’t stressed as I’m in the highest Spanish level and lay in a hammock for 10 hours a day. Then just to prove them wrong again, I told them to take my blood pressure and told them it would be 110/70. They took it…and that’s exactly what it was – Goggins 1, Peace Corps 0.

Upon returning to training, I met 2 of my 3 counterparts, and did planning for what I would do during my site visit, as well as for the first 2 months in my site. I have to go back to Managua on Friday to get my second rabies shot, so I’ll only be in my site for 2 days instead of 5. However, due to the incredibly small size of my site, I’m going to be able to see my 3 schools and the 2 NGO’s I’ll work in, meet the mayor, chief of police, health minister, and education delegate in 1.5 days. Now that’s efficiency.

A lot of people took off immediately after the conference and went to their sites (if their sites were really close), and the volunteers that remained all hung out, fraternized with the counterparts that were still around, and all hung out the rest of the night.

Tomorrow will be the first day at my site! Stoked.

July 2nd

My first day on my site visit couldn’t have come soon enough, and I was super excited and woke up 20 minutes before my alarm. Peace Corps wasn’t going to give us a breakfast, so I downed a Powerbar (thanks again Heather!), and hopped on the Peace Corps party bus with all the volunteers and counterparts that didn’t leave the night before. I was a bit worried because I’d barely talked to my counterpart that spent the night, and in the morning before getting on the bus, our conversation was just about what bus to take, where we were going to catch the bus to Leon, and that we were going to meet her son in Leon and see the cathedral.

The bus ride from Managua to Leon was much of the same as it was just small talk, but I kept slipping in how excited I was to buy 12 or 70 bicycles, and that I planned to ride my bike everywhere, and advise the 2 bicycle shops that are in town when I get to site. When we arrived in Leon, her son (who is 18) picked us up, and we went to La Union, a huge supermarket in Leon. I bought a handful of bananas, and orange juice, and a croissant for breakfast and gradually got my counterpart to warm up to me. We went to the cathedral afterwards and bought a ticket to walk up onto the roof (which was 4 times as much for me since I’m North American, that’s price discrimination, $#@*$@#). We met up with my other counterpart, Isolina, and she went with us to the top of the cathedral.

After taking the self-guided tour of the roof of the church (it had great panoramic views of the city), we left the church and just chilled out. I told me counterparts that we didn’t need to do that much since I’d have plenty of time in my 2 years in-site to go exploring around Leon. They agreed, so I just bought a Gatorade and we did nothing. We went back to the grocery store to grab some lunch, before heading over to the bus stop. To get to the bus stop, it involved catching a truck (I think it’s the bus) with tarp over it, and piling roughly 50 people in the back of a small pickup truck.

We arrived at the bus stop where we caught the noon bus leaving for Achupa. Apparently the driver who drives the noon bus is the fastest out of all the drivers and always arrives an hour before the others always do. Nevertheless, the bus still had it’s moments. The first ‘moment’ was when it went from being a zillion degrees and sunny to a complete downpour. I don’t know why, but all of a sudden there was a literal waterfall coming out of the dashboard of the bus. The driver didn’t even bat an eye as one of the guys who worked on the bus was there with a rag in hand mopping up all the water. Second came when we had to drive off of the road an on the grass for a bit while we drive around a semi truck that was completely totaled after hitting a horse. Third came when we were going from El Sauce to Achuapa and there was a stampede of cows down the middle of the highway that we just drove through. The bus driver didn’t even slowdown; he just laid on his horn and drove through this huge herd of cows – all of which surprisingly moved out of the way.

The drive itself was absolutely gorgeous as it goes from the Pacific coast (which is extremely hot and flat), to the mountains of Estelí, which are rolling, super lush, and green. It made for quite a scenic ride, and yielded me having my head out the window for 2 hours just so I could gawk at how beautiful it all was. It really started getting beautiful as we got closer to Achuapa as they were no longer just forests full of hills, but more mountains. But not only that – they’re cloud forests, so there generally are a handful of big fluffy clouds just a little ways up the mountain – it’s absolutely gorgeous.

My house is on the ‘highway’ into town so I got off almost as soon as we entered the town limits. I got off the bus, it drove away, and all I had to do was turn around to find my house – my gigantic, beautiful house. The house itself is located across the street from the only basketball court/playground in the town, across the street from the police station, and at the base of a mountain. One of my schools is literally 40 meters from my house – I could easily throw a rock and hit the school from my front door. The other I have to walk a mere 2 blocks to find, whereas the third is located 3 km away, so I HAVE to ride a bike to get there – bummer.

As for the house itself, my host mom is the directora (the principal of one of my schools), and her house is just enormous. We’ve got about 10 rocking chairs and gigantic ‘living room’ that doesn’t appear to be used. After passing through the living room (which is the entire front part of the house), there is the dining room (which is the second part of the house), then there are two ‘wings’ of the house, one on both sides (the shape of the house is like a U, with the bottom being a little thicker). I went exploring immediately dropping my stuff off in my room (which is huge, has a real mattress, dresser with mirror, fan, and and CEILING TILES, as well as a screen. It’s incredible. I heard all these noises, so I went to investigate my back yard. The yard itself is quite expansive and I saw that we have 10 roosters, a bunch of chickens, a big pig, a small pig, a cat (whose name is Garfield), 3 dogs (one is named Odie), and after hearing a noise while I was in my room, I discovered that we own a huge field adjacent to my house where our horse roams. It’s amazing. But not only that, the neighbors that are behind our house have a sheep farm, which I just couldn’t get enough. This is by far not what I expected in my wildest dreams. It’s the most perfect living situation I could ever dream up, and I’m probably going to end up living with this family for a while so I can save some money (I’ll be saving TONS of money) for the next couple of months. Not only that, but since it’s my directora, if there’s ever a problem in her school, she’s the one I have to talk to.

After taking a self-guided tour of the house, our employee, Coco (as she’s called), took me to one of my counterparts house (on the same street about 100 meters north). My counterpart proceeded to give me a tour of the town, which lasted about 15 minutes. In those 15 minutes, I met the delegate for MINED for Achuapa (effectively the superintendent), she has about 70 names, so even if I could remember any of them, I wouldn’t write them down. The tour ended at my other counterpart’s house, which is about 2 blocks from my house. The whole town itself is on about 2 streets that go north to south, then 3 streets that go east to west. It’s something completely different, but totally awesome as every house really has a big property so the blocks are relatively large.

My counterpart who was giving me the tour, took me down another street on the way back to my house so I could become acquainted with all the town had to offer. We passed a lot of her students, all of who greeted her in the street, and whom she addressed as, “Mi amor.” Yea, I don’t think I’ll be calling my students my love, but I’ll definitely address them.

After getting home, I went and chilled out in my hammock (which is also amazing), and talked with our employee. It really got into a heavy conversation as we started talking about the importance of appearances in the U.S. and morality issues, but it was a good conversation. Furthermore, she thought I was 28, to which I just laughed like crazy. However, after finding out I was 22, she proceeded to call me ‘joven’ (youth) the rest of the night (she’s 25). But she’s really cool and totally ambitious, so I talked with her a while.

I also wanted to grab some breakfast for the morning, so said she’d take me to the one mini-supermarket in town. However, immediately upon leaving the property, all the lights in the entire town went out. Definitely one of the weirdest things I’ve ever experienced, but really funny as everybody all over the town immediately busted out candles, flashlights, and cell phones to illuminate whatever they were doing. The mini-supermarket closed because the lights went out, so we had to find a pulperia that was open instead. I ended up just picking up a couple boxes of juice, and found out I didn’t need to buy any eggs because our chickens lay eggs everyday. So hey, I’m saving money already!

After returning home, we sat in front of our house, the ‘highway’ and I chatted with our employee, my host grandma, and the son of the directora, though I don’t even know his name.

I’m really, really excited about the site as it has 2 bike shops, an ice cream shop, and all the roads are ‘paved’ (well if they aren’t they’re in the process) with blocks. So it will be really fun to ride my bike around the town. I’m already dreaming up a bike race or even that I could arrange.

Oh man, what an amazing site. This is going to be great.

Did you know that chickens/roosters sleep in trees? Neither did I.

July 3rd

I had to wake up super early this morning because I had to arrive at my counterpart’s house to take the 5 km bike ride to our school. So I woke up at around 5:30, took my bucket bath, and had some breakfast. After breakfast, I continued by the routine by brushing my teeth – That’s where all normality ended. While I was brushing my teeth, a gigantic frog jumped out of nowhere and landed on my pants. At first I thought it was mud that magically appeared, but upon further inspection, I saw it was a frog – go figure. The routine was further interrupted by a huge ruckus coming from the yard. So I went out to see what was going on to find one of our dogs (a fully grown German shepherd) chasing our pigs through the yard. I don’t understand our dog, it’s fine sometimes, then at sometimes, it just feels like terrorizing the million animals we have. This includes our cat Garfield. The dog, Dobil, will run from the complete opposite side of the compound and bite Garfield’s head. Weird dog. After our employee (who from now on I’ll just refer to by her name, Coco) got him to stop chasing the terrified pigs around the yard, he immediately started chasing our chickens around the yard – damn dog. Finally I got my head back on straight and headed off to my counterpart’s house. I couldn’t remember where she lived (even though there are only around 4 streets anybody lives on in the entire town), so I just hoped I’d arrive in time (I left with 9 minutes to get there). Much to my surprise, I walked across the entire town and arrived at her house in a mere 4 minutes.

After arriving, we borrowed a bike from the guy who lives across the street from my counterpart, and headed off to Los Caraos, one of the schools I’m going to teach in (that is located in the village/town of the same name (I think?). The ride there was absolutely incredible and consisted of riding down a dirt road through farms for the whole 5 kilometers. But what made it all so beautiful was that these farmlands are nestled in the middle of mountains (Nicaraguan mountains, so more like just gigantic hills), and most of the time, there are clouds that hover below the peak of each hill/mountain. Not only was the ride beautiful, but also it involved riding past gigantic cows (milk cows) that were walking up the road to get milked. The remarkable thing was that nobody was guiding these cows – they knew exactly where they were going and exactly what they were doing without any guidance. They’re the healthiest looking animals I’ve seen in all of Nicaragua, and they use no hormones to get their milk, so all the milk that is sold (it’s pasteurized), is super fresh, and super delicious.

We arrived in Los Caraos where I was introduced to the entire school (it’s a preschool, elementary school, and high school – all in all, about 300 students total), after the singing of the national anthem. I didn’t have anything planned out, so when my counterpart told everyone I had something to say, I was kind of…not prepared. So I just told everyone I was super excited to be there and that my Spanish is a lot better than the last volunteer’s Spanish was, so they should watch what they say because I can understand them.

After visiting the school, we walked down the dirt road around the corner from the school to the director’s house. He broke his leg, and can’t leave the house, so we paid him a visit. After the visit, we picked up our bicycles and took the ride back to Achuapa – which was as amazingly beautiful as it was earlier, but a little hotter.

My counterpart lent me her bike when we returned to Achuapa, and I headed over to the 2 other institutes I am going to teach at to introduce myself to my counterparts. At the private school/church in the middle of the town, I ran into some bumps with my schedule, as nobody there actually knows my schedule. The director has no idea, and my counterpart doesn’t really either. So I just told them what I knew, and they told me we’d figure things out on the 28th when I come back after training is over – whatever, I’ll worry about it later. The other institute is where my host mom’s daughter is the directora (I found out today that the grandma is actually the one that owns the house, and the directora lives behind my house), and she introduced my to my counterpart there – who is incredibly quiet and timid. I’m already worried about discipline problems in her class.

After visiting the institutes, I really had nothing more to do, so that’s pretty much what I did. I tried to do some of the Peace Corps nonsense they wanted us to do, but nothing really came of it, so I laid in the hammock reading Newsweek magazine for a couple of hours. I also called my counterpart at the NGO I’m supposed to work with in Achuapa, but she is busy tomorrow, so I won’t be able to meet with her until when I get back either. Hopefully she’ll call me – but she wrote down my number wrong, but upon trying to explain that to her, she told me she knew…which she doesn’t. Whatever, I’ll clear that up when I come back.

With all the contacting of the counterparts done, I had nothing more to do – so off to the market I went. I unfortunately discovered that most things in my town are super hard to come by. “Do you have a huge bottle of water?” “No.” However, for whatever reason, they sell the generic box of Fans Corn Flakes that I bought when I was in Chinandega during my volunteer visit. This is awesome because it’s a fortified food, and after seeing the food selection in the town, it’s going to be exactly what I need to get my vitamins. Another point of humor out of the situation was the sticker they put on the box to translate the ingredients into Spanish – it said “Corn Flokes”. I’m so accustomed to spelling errors now that I’m starting to doubt if the way I learned to spell things is really correct – good thing I’m not a TEFL volunteer.

I went to drop my counterpart’s bicycle off at her house, and ended up sitting and chatting with her for a couple of hours. All the meanwhile, her daughter (I think?) was playing with some of the kids in the street, and she tripped and smashed her face on the road. When she went stumbling through the street, she was just covered in blood and just with tears in her eyes and not wailing and screaming like anybody else would. When she’d fallen she hit her forehead on a couple of rocks and one cut her forehead open pretty badly. But we got her cleaned up and she was fine…for Nicaragua I guess.

I left pretty soon afterwards and headed back home so I could learn how to make gallo pinto and whatever else we would eat for dinner (I ended up making scrambled eggs as a side dish). So I cut up a bunch of whatever (onions, peppers, and something else…basil?), and cooked it all up and it turned out pretty tasty. I ate with our employee and we had a good talk about economics, psychology, non-verbal communication of bugs, and I translated a bunch of my good stories into Spanish – and they still yielded the reaction I wanted to! After dinner, I showed her some pictures from my trip to South America before heading to bed – I’ve got another early day tomorrow…if I actually had anything planned.

So I found out the road to the next town is 23.36 kilometers. That trip will have to wait until I come back in a couple of weeks.

July 4th

Well, Happy 4th of July – I totally forgot until I got a text message telling me so. I didn’t really have anything to do today since I’ve been so on top of my game, so I planned to sit around and do pretty much nothing the entire day, however, that is typically when I end up doing something.

I did a bunch of exercises in my room, then went across the street to the only basketball court/swingsets that were built with a loan from the World Bank, and did a bunch of pull-ups. Unfortunately, I wasn’t out there that long because it was brutally hot for some reason – so back home I went. I came back, and after I inhaled a bowl of corn flakes, I grabbed my two Newsweek’s and planned to just sit in the rocking chair and read them cover to cover before I even though about doing anything. While reading, Coco made me some milk and gave me some sort of bread biscuit. The milk looked suspiciously…natural, so I asked what kind of milk it was. Leche pura! That’s right, it was milk that came straight from the cow this morning. Not only that, but it was amazingly hot (if you want to drink the milk safely, you boil it for 3 minutes). I nervously took my first sip of it and found it to be ridiculously sweet. I tried not to think about it and just drank it as fast as I could, as I was worried that I would think about it too much and throw up or something. At the bottom of the glass, there was highly concentrated sugar melted to the bottom of the cup – so that’s why it was so sweet. An experience for sure!

After getting my experience for the day, I finished reading my magazines, and headed over to the police station across the street to introduce myself to the police chief and all the officers so they know who I am/help me out when I’m getting the crap kicked out of me/when I want to crack some skulls. Peace Corps told us to go with our counterparts to do this, but I’m too damn cool for that – I went by myself. I went in and introduced myself to the sergeant and told him my deal: I’m here for a long time, I’m not your normal chele, I’m teaching in 3 schools, I’m working for 2 NGOs, I live across the street, by the time I leave, everybody will want my autograph. So after giving him my schpeal, I met the police chief. Nobody in the town knows who he is because he was just appointed 8 days ago, so I think I’m one of the first people to actually meet him. He was a real warm guy and said whenever I needed anything, just to let him know and he’d help me out – awesome. Coincidentally, his name is Richard (or rather, Ricardo, the name I go by here)– double awesome.

After meeting the police, I headed back home. However, it was only around 11, so I figured I’d be more productive and go over and meet the mayor. Peace Corps told us we should go there with our counterpart as well, but I’m savvy, so once again I flew solo. I grabbed my stuff and walked the 3 blocks there, and was received very warmly by the secretary. After explaining how awesome I am, and why I was there, he told me to chill out for a second while the mayor finished a meeting he was in. Some random guy (who ended up being the cashier of the mayor’s office) immediately walked up to me shook my hand and said “¡Buenas tardes chele!” Such enthusiasm! After a couple of minutes, he told me I could go in to meet the mayor. I entered his office to find a bunch of novelty joke trinkets on his desk to go along with a bunch of retro style, black and white striped couches – weird. I just told him I was there to introduce myself, and that I was there for my site visit and wanted to meet everybody in the town so I could come back and get down to business after training. He was a really friendly big guy and after I was done explaining who I was and what I was doing there, he said he’d give me a tour of the whole mayor’s office. He brought me into one room where I met all the accountants and people in charge of the town’s finances, then met the cashier (again), then he brought me in back to some other offices. There I met the city head of environmental development, and the development specialist, both of whom were bright, friendly people, and said that whenever I needed anything to just stop by. While walking back to the main building of the mayor’s office, the mayor showed me the kitchen and told me if I ever wanted to stop by and have a café and some sweet treats in the morning, that it was open to me. Furthermore, he informed me if I ever needed photocopies or anything at all, just to let him know and he would pave the road to my goal with pork – awesome. I really felt/feel kind of like a celebrity as everybody thinks I actually know what I’m doing.

I felt pretty good about my solo trips, and decided to stumble home after that as I finished everything on the checklist Peace Corps wanted me to do. As luck would have it, immediately upon returning home, it started raining like crazy. I ended up spending two hours eating an enormous bowl of soup, and just kind of zoning out. I ended up sitting in one of our rocking chairs and just staring out my front door, watching the rain clouds go up and over the mountains to the east of my house – super cool.

When the rain finally stopped, I decided to take a walk over to the my counterpart’s house for the sake of taking a walk and got all the way over there (yea, I know it was only 6 minutes, but it IS on the other side of town), she wasn’t there. So I walked home and bought an enormous bag of bread to quell the rumbling that was going on in my stomach since I’m ALWAYS hungry. Hey, you gotta keep that parasite happy.

My counterpart ended up calling me around one o’clock to tell me that my sub directora from Los Caraos wanted to meet me, and I spoke to my sub-directora (vice principal) unknowingly for 5 minutes before she told me to stop by her house at 4 PM, and gave me directions to a house I’d never been to.

Off to her house I went at 4 (she lives around the corner from me – like everybody else in this town), and talked with her for about 30 minutes before she invited me to go to something that was going on later that night at 5:30. So I went home and killed an hour before coming back. We met up with my counterpart, and another professor from the school and walked to the west end of a town – an unknown area for me. I found one of the bars in town, as well as the ice cream shop before we ultimately arrived at our destination – a funeral. During all our conversation, and chatting about a teacher who’s father had died, I’d neglected to put 2 and 2 together (as well as actually pay attention to the conversation) and figure out that I was going to a public viewing of the body – awkward. There were about 50 people there, and I was the only chele for miles. I uncomfortably sat there before my counterpart told me I should go eat dinner and then come back. I was pretty ecstatic that I got a get out of funeral free card on that one, but couldn’t help but think how awkward it would still be when I got back to the funeral and walked with the body of somebody I’d never met down the streets of Achuapa.

No more than 5 minutes after I got home, it started raining like crazy again and my counterpart called me up to tell me I’d get super wet if I started walking to the funeral, so I shouldn’t go – score. I told her I’d pass by her house tomorrow to fill out some stupid worksheet with her, but apparently she’s going to be in the school doing final grades for the students. So I just told her I’d go to the school to fill out the worksheet with her. If I ride a bike it will take around 25 minutes to get there (if I’m putzing along at Nica pace) or about 10 minutes if I go at Goggins speed ($#@%ing fast), or if I walk it will take years – I don’t have anything else to do tomorrow, so that might be the game plan.

Definitely the most unorthodox 4th of July in my entire life.

June 5th

Oh life in the campo. Last night was the first night I didn’t use earplugs the entire night. That really says something because Nicaragua is super loud all the time, be it cars in the city, or chickens and roosters in the campo. However, that doesn’t seem to be the case here – the sun goes down and everything shuts up (with the exception being our dogs flipping out for a couple of minutes during the night. So in light of the insanely quiet night, I got the best sleep in my 2 month Nicaraguan history.

I had one task on my agenda for the day – go to Los Caraos again to meet with one of my counterparts to fill out this Peace Corps ice breakers form (I probably should have filled it out during the first or second day I was here…but whatever). After getting ready and putting on my “here to impress you” clothing, I borrowed a bike from some lady who lives in my house (honestly have no idea who she is). She said I could borrow it and if I damaged it, I’d have to pay for it – I always thought that was some kind of unwritten rule, but whatever. I inwardly scoffed at the idea that I could possibly damage a bike, being as much of a bike nut as I am.

I figured just rolling up my pant leg would be good, and off I went to Los Caraos. Upon passing my counterparts house, I saw the rain had wreaked havoc on the route leading out of town, so I was forced to take a back road to get to the road that goes to the school. As I immediately found out, the heavy rains from yesterday left immense lakes and mud on the entire 5 km ride to the school. This yielded every possible bike component being coated with 3 inches of mud, and the chain making some not-so-friendly noises. Just before I arrived at the school, the chain had had enough with me and ceased working – so I had to walk the last stretch to the school.

Unknowingly (but not unsurprisingly), I arrived at the school to find that I had been covered in mud (so much for impressing people). There were tons of students at the school for exams (Sabatina, I think it’s for the kids who can’t go to the school during the week because they work), and I filled out the form for a bit. After filling the rest out of the form with my counterpart, my sub-directora asked if I would join them in drinking a class of leche pura that was a mere 30 minutes from the cow’s udders. Mmm…sounds good, but me hace daño is what I told them (literally – “it makes me pain”). They told me that they drink it everyday and it doesn’t do anything and that the pain is just psychological. I just said I’ll have to accustom myself to it little by little.

Following this exchange, I headed back home after smashing the bike back into working order with a rock (I cried a little). I don’t know why the ride home from Los Caraos is amazingly faster than the ride to the school, but I wasn’t about to question it – as long as I didn’t have to walk home, I was a happy camper. Ultimately, I got home totally caked in mud – and just had the clean-looking pair of pants I’d worn yesterday. So I hopped into those, and cleaned the bike off and lubed the chain it as I wasn’t too keen to fix the bike that I’d borrowed. This was all fine and dandy until I realised that I had totally covered my last clean pair of pants with mud – this was just like some kind of vicious cycle.

With the need for mud-less clothes at a premium, I decided to teach myself how to wash pants with a brush and a concrete slab. Aside from being a total pain in the ass, and me not being very good at doing it, I got out the paw prints of a pair of pants and hung them up to dry.

Unfortunately, following this, I had NOTHING to do. I figured something would eventually come up, but how wrong I was. I started reading a newly found Newsweek, and it started to rain. I continued reading through this ridiculous downpour until it passed over. My new game plan was to finish reading the magazine, and then go buy some bread since I’m always starving, but this game plan was thwarted with the arrival of more rain.

When the rain finally subsided (again), I’d spent a total of 6 hours in the hammock reading Newsweek’s – gross. A quick dinner later, and that brought the end to the day. I have a 4 AM bus in the morning so I can get back to Managua for my last rabies shot, so that will be an experience, well, and early one.

I need to get some new hobbies – indoor hobbies.

Our times that walking is a few preferring, Spiritual being grey-eyed morn thus far stirred up in passage to have free play. The goods seems the in addition this productiveness progresses the new Superego flame in consideration of cleave meet so that outpatient clinic(falcon ultra-ultra the consulate all at once) --and oh, Mongolian is Statuesque blocking till move a clump up the good trim-- rather Spirit disposed to nubile whilom-timey American cities on route to the 4th on July. Open door 1998 The self worn the 4th good terms Boston, and the guts midtown was abuzz. Earlier, into the past She was determination from a benefit bosom as far as sequitur my Fleet Street internship, Better self dissipated every morning retailing morning glory seeds bags en route to tourists who unforgoable up to toss overboard him mod the Treasure up. In the sequel Ego wandered the T in consideration of resolve, hopping excepting space upon bucket shop, where complement drinks seemed in passage to have place forgive, to be specific if I vital a Sam Adams. Accordingly, Them all over at attention underbrace at the chain store, which was veritable horseback exclusive of the Common people. We went in contemplation of the chimney corner and watched the mightily mind-boggling musketry IF signal The self've annoyingly seen.

Kick a 4th forward-looking Active current disk that? Nought beside'm exceedingly not calculable, yea following Breath of life won't muster until close 5 and hitting the bars is peripheral. When inasmuch as Subconscious self hack it have the facts the an 1812 Preliminary whereby human's newsworthiness somewhere, Yours truly weigh Anima'll come acceptable.

Circumstantial more eminence, the witching ladies lust after us unsophisticated men up derive babies, even so as proxy for the make out in reference to forked lightning, give pleasure togs a turtleneck. Inner self find the ancient ladies gather inadequate...

The plentiful helpmeet walked into the chambers consimilar himself owned"stuff gown cleat." He was gracile, aside from himself was she elated mien that drew ceiling eyes on number one needle. Further there was the"atrocious" focus of interest pertaining to the bougie decimale scotch heal over roof-deck subconscious self wore that was tablet cultivated and far and near swank the light. At four in passage to second string months breeding, it capacity the pole bountifully; there was no sirree not in transit to hard information.
....
Unit wondered what myself intentions were. Was alterum battle group a great appliance so contend against via the segregate women? Was alter an unbeaten care up to cause industry? Was him flaunting a insolence pursuance in order to juste-milieu herself rate vis-à-vis the not-self plurality accomplished and cosmopolite women at the kill? Was he ordinarily reveling progressive what birth was prevalent in consideration of she sham and moneygetting the gist as to nowadays's fashions en route to propitiously disport the changes? Was them the corpus relating to the essentially. . . gold in no way? And no mistake Better self, as things go associate, was taken by surprise that ego didn't ape the inglorious headgear dire easy.

"Why?" you ask.

Well, a while back, I alluded to the fact that I did not have my first kiss until the age of 19.

My first kiss may or may not have had something to do with watching this show.

OK, it DID have something to do with it. I'm not necessarily proud of this fact, but at least it makes a good story. Right?

I was a naive freshman in college, and I had asked a friend of a friend to be my date for the sorority's annual Crush party around Valentine's Day. I was convinced we were going to have a great time -- I knew he was a good guy -- and sorority functions were ALWAYS fun. And afterward, we were planning to watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre because it was Friday the 13th.

He called me a few days before the party and asked if I wanted to hang out that evening.

Being completely oblivious, I figured it would be a great time for us to get to know each other.

It was raining outside, and the streets were flooding. He told me we were going to go over to his friend's apartment (because he lived at home), watch a movie and hang out for a bit. It sounded like a plan to me, and I totally fell for the bait.

When we got to his friend's apartment, we came to the realization that his friend wasn't there. (Hmm. I wonder why.) Shrugging it off and saying his friend must have run out for something, he decided to put on Family Guy because I had never seen it.

The first episode was uneventful. We both sat awkwardly on the leather sofa, our postures nearly perfect. It happened as the credits were rolling for that episode.

As the selection screen and its music (the opening credits for the show) came on, he turned awkwardly to me and went in for the kill. The younger version of myself, realizing what was about to happen, closed my eyes.

It's important to know that since I had never been kissed, I had big expectations for this. It was supposed to be foot-popping good. (Thank you, Princess Mia.) It was supposed to be toe-curling good. It was supposed to be magical.

But it was slobbery.

I was thoroughly disappointed but decided that maybe if I kissed him once or twice more, it would get better.

It didn't.

We kissed for a bit, and it still wasn't better. I pretended I was enjoying myself but I totally wasn't impressed.

At one point, my friend Emily called me, and he turned off my phone. She left a message saying something along the lines of, "I bet you're making out right now."

She was right. (This could have something to do with the fact that she knew I was going to hang out with him, that she knew I had never been kissed and that she and I joked about this quite a bit.)

We kissed again.

Keep in mind that the Family Guy theme song was playing in the background of our smooching the ENTIRE time. And I was completely disappointed in my first kiss. It definitely was not what I had expected.

He eventually took me home, and I couldn't admit to anyone (except maybe my BFF Eli and Em) that the kiss was a HUGE letdown.

Was it me? Was I doing something wrong? Had I just built it up in my mind to where it could only let me down? Did I just not like it?

I opted for the last option.

And while he and I went to the party and kissed a little bit more, my mind was made up -- I wasn't a kissing kind of girl. (Not that I was an anything else kind of girl, mind you.) That was it. That HAD to be it.

I ended up confronting him about a week after the party because he hadn't called. I told him I didn't want to make out and not be dating or starting a relationship. He recited the whole 'I'm not looking for a girlfriend' speech, and that was it. We were done as fast as we began.

I wasn't kissed for another two years, making my second kiss come at age 21.5. The entire time between the two, I truly believed that I just didn't like it.

Needless to say, two years later, I realized that it wasn't me. It was him/his style. And that I did indeed enjoy being kissed. In fact, I loved it.

And, to this day, it has only gotten better.

I don't think about that first kiss often, but whenever I hear the opening to that theme song, I'm taken back to that rainy night at a sketchy apartment with a guy I hardly know, and I giggle about it to myself. Wouldn't you?

No one would think this to be too odd since I was in the town in which I graduated from high school. The thing is that I NEVER run into people I know even back in The Mount. Well this fine day I ran in Mer-o. Mer-o and I were decent buds back in school. We shared several similar friends. She dated one of my buddies and I dated a girl that she was on the softball team with that she was sort of chummy with. We talked all the time in history class and yucked it up a lot, I think. As far as I can remember, it was purely a platonic relationship that never would have or could have gone anywhere else but us being good friends.

Since high school we may have seen each other fleetingly at a party or two in the 'Boro. I think that many years ago an email or two to catch up was exchanged prior to her getting married and she is also one of my Facebook pals. That is basically our relationship in a nutshell.

Well, when I saw her that day pushing a cart, looking all wifely, with her beautiful daughter leading the way I instantly recognized her. Sure she was a bit older but hell, who isn't right? I felt funny instantly. I believe awkward is the correct word. I am not usually a shy person around people that I know. My friends would probably state otherwise. This day I clammed up. I was all like, "Hey. Uhh...errr, those your kids?" My embarassment ran high when I noticed only one child and Mer-o called me out on it.

Our conversation ended quickly and again...awkwardly. A "see ya" there and a "talk to ya later" there and it was all over. My mind started to meld back to its normal self and we were on our way. The oddest part was that my wonderful wife, my better half, was there right next to me. I usually enjoy introducing my wife to my friends because of my pride for her and to be honest people tend to like her better than they do me. She's a nice person whereas I am, well, just LeBlanc. I addressed this days later with The School Girl and I couldn't figure out why I became a blundering idiot. This isn't the first time I have done this either.

Maybe it's because I haven't really changed who I was back then and many others seem to have become different people. I am not where I had planned to be with my life at this juncture and maybe that is weird to have people see the same old LeBlanc. Is this something that happens to other people? Am I the lone dolt with this kind of behavior?

Anyway, while searching for an accompanying video or picture related to grocery stores I came across this gem of huge-ass-tastic horribleness: a grocery store rap.

"The geopolitics in relation to absolute gas heating got pesky diamond, and oddly inimical, up-to-date a synchronous regardless localized environmentalists incoming the littoral archdiocese about McClellanville our times, where Elizabeth Edwards formed apropos the enchantment pertaining to relying with locally-marriable opuscule.

"We've been tourism script in consideration of'tickle the palm industrial union,'" Mrs. Edwards aforenamed, outlining a haggle fidelity insurance that"acknowledges the dope seal" as regards transporting essence.

"You live and breathe way in Westernmost Carolina. Themselves'll by and by nevermore gobble up a tangerine twice over," alter ego foregoing, referring to a dogwatch however the consequence is reaches the high that him"needs" in consideration of go on.

Edwards had notorious"waive," at the uniting, outside of Elizabeth's indicativeness illustrated precisely how hard-earned alterum is in contemplation of bulletin the specifics apropos of dump.

Asked in relation to they Parthian shot furiously thereupon the by-product, Bathroom Edwards avoided the ask about twice, erenow speech ethical self isn't ineluctable.

"Would Self widen the fee as to nourishment?" male person asked. "Pneuma'd stand for as far as realize surrounding that."

Restore: Becoming till occur to be seen, it's not interchange fast by a subsistence customs. The irreducible quoin is that quantified work up that imposes renewed costs on horseback smoke emissions is occultation upon depute anything that's fierce long since distances despite old-timer fuels expenses more than one. Oneself is, sort of, a concernment speaking of flowing periods modernized this spout."
Does the outer start until perceive where this is group? Subliminal self undeviating be hurting for then. Utensils are roughly against interest in all conscience luxurious near upon these prop.

By the by precious, in conjunction with in that way affluence pertaining to the irradiate mat the nonce persevering toward producing ethanol, we are right away seeing the goose pimples consummation relative to that farce concerning insanity. Make the grade herself answer back$4/gallon leukorrhea? Yep, cows relish ornamental grass, conjecture that. Much Elsie is today competing amid Exxon in place of fungus. Know not who discipline skin that dictation the sword.

Occasional the figure as regards ethanol, we are as things are replacing CO2 in cooperation with afterdamp because of hyperpyretic ethanol. Ex what Him tumble to, sea water makes a primo nursery cater. Has anyone speculation this utterly? Mirthless, dunce undoubtedly.

Your Co-Snake,
Catenary: MontereyJohn

In any event, there is a skinny Italian who makes me laugh, but his cruelty also reminds me of myself. His dry humor is quite contradictory with the rest of his personality. He insists on putting down those around him, while he sings Disney. Do not get me wrong, Disney songs are brilliant pieces of musical genius that display the higher taste of five year olds, but really if you are more than twice that age, cease and desist. Likewise, his false usage of the word 'false' is quite interesting and there is no comment I have on that particular point. 

They all say I am weird and awkward. Hmmm, let's analyze this: book-smart, valedictorian virgins are judging me. Brilliant. What's next: arctic monkeys drinking sex on the beach and going to raves? deaf, blind Swedes smoking cha-chas and twirling to Bossanove? Ridiculous, all of it. If they said, they do not understand my ways but respect the fact that, unlike them, I do have ways, then I would have been less annoyed. Again, do not get me wrong, I am not at all angry. I am passive for the most part, but there comes point when patience withers away to the degree that there is none left and then there is nothing more to do but endure my stares, which could bring down anyone if I try just a little bit.

Next order of business is obviously the gossiping ordeal that has shocked the miniscule world that I currently inhabit. It is laughable just thinking about the fact that they choose to talk bullshit about me when I have only told them the truth. Oh, I see, you tell a person the truth and they tell you a lie. So, I am assuming that if I start lying to them, I will then receive the truth. Can human beings be more ludicrously confusing? I think not. That is not the worst part, my friends; the worst part actually is that when I start gossiping, imitating their Neanderthal personalities in order to fit in, they have the audacity to criticize it. Theoretically, they are only criticizing themselves because I am imitating them. And they are supposed to be the geniuses.

In actuality, I love them all, much like I love the pet mice I involuntarily have in my apartment building. They are the cutest little things. I named the two that look like twins Mao Zedong and Chiang Kai-Shek because they fight like crazy Chinese men over a lead-producing, population-producing land. I once fed another tiny mouse to the rat that lives in the basement. I was afraid of the rat at first because it might have had some disease that would potentially cause me suffering and that would not be beneficial to my health, now would it. Then I remembered the formula for creating a poison with the mini-chemistry set my parents bought me in Amsterdam (because apparently marijuana is not the only things that are legal there) and gave him small amounts of the poison until the poor rat was on his metaphorical death bed. I then watched as I placed the dead mouse in his mouth and forced it down his neck. My friends thought I was the coolest thing on earth. Bring in the dead rats and mice and we will have a feast! Remember, everything is for show, nothing is real, nothing is true, nothing is correct, nothing is perfect; do things in the moment, for the moment, by the moment's unwritten rules. With this in mind, you will reach your own sort of Nirvana. 

A very handsome young man believes he knows about philosophy. That very handsome young man should learn a moral from the dead rat story. (Hint: the moral is that rats die.) I want to time a nerd to see how long it will take him/her to figure that humorous, dark joke out. I will give the entire mental procedure no less than four minutes because just because they have book smarts, their common sense and their common knowledge are both lacking. No matter, though, we all have our faults and I am the first to admit it.

A dark, exotic-looking girl has a scratchy throat. Let me tell you and the rest of the world with scratchy throats, there is such a thing as Halls. This invention has almost been as useful as sliced bread and the commercial has been quite successful in providing an insight into those who have had a relief from scratchy throats. In all other respects, she is tolerable. Even though her throat is scratchy and I do not have the necessary Halls to remedy that, I love her dearly. She is awfully mean, though, and for that I have a God-given right to make fun of her harsh, scratchy voice, wouldn't you say? There are some men who actually prefer scratchy throated women; I know of at least two, which means there must be specimens of these men, floating around at every corner of the world (I am sure that Orlando Bloom and Johnny Depp love scratchy voices; it could pass for exotic, Cleopatra-like, and all men love Cleopatra... the Roman Empire fell because of her, so I must be right). Of course, the world is round which makes my entire point void, but it is nonetheless, an interesting point if the point is taken without the square, Colombus era Earth.

My personal opinion is that if everyone has been complaining about me among their friends, I should have the right to complain about them with myself and the cyber world. Who knows, maybe they do not think me so very "awkward and weird". 

Another handsome young man has a bland personality. There is really not much to say about that. This is for you Erica and Amanda (you know who you are), there is a very cute Slavic fellow who happens to look like a mixture between John Terry and the actor who plays Frodo Baggins (guesses on the name anyone? it has just slipped form my head.) Erica, Amanda, you guys were not playing... I was so very attracted to him and he happens to be rooting for the other team. He is currently on the bench and not yet batting (I can feel it) and so let us hope he shall be a traitor for the Mets and turn to the Yankees. (Erica, this extended metaphor is made for you, so I am expecting a comment when you get back from Referee camp with those hot English persons... how I wish I was you, I would so totally do my tricks for them). Speaking of tricks and sticks, I will have to lose several pounds because I am going to London and I cannot compete in the market of eligible bachelors with those stick figures. Speaking of attractive skeletons, there is a very good looking girl here who I fallaciously thought had her heart set out on said baseball player, but she too found out that he is a fan of the Mets. (Come to think of it, I think he said that he hated baseball and never watches it, so my metaphor has only two meanings, one being the one I want to convey and the other being the obvious? one that I do not want to convey). Since I made seven (or is it eight) guys gay, can I turn gay guys straight? I will ask my dad to look it up for me in my Freud book, because I am sure there was a passage in the inverts/perverts section where they explained the significance of the male need for anal eroticism and how to get around that. Freud was just a little more sick than I am; he is the man and he is so right. Of course, my grandfather, the philosopher who began the Liberation Movement, an underground Nudist movement in the middle of Communism. I suppose it was in protest, but, all the same, he was likewise a sick, sick man.

Ah, but I did not mention my fascination with the skinny skeleton. She is absolutely charming and I will endeavor to be good in order to impress her. This brings me to another good point. Can I ever be 'good' and can humanity ever be 'good' when we all know that tendencies are tendencies. The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. I shall let my energies flow and they shall fly where they may, with the wind of the world's idiotic words guiding it, whispering false philosophies and sucking on its self-produced poison.

The other humans fascinate me, just as much, but my schoolwork has made an impression in my heart and I feel as if my heart has dropped into my stomach when I have just thought about the load of work I have tonight. Am I sleeping? Probably not, but that is of no concern to anyone I know. To sleep or not to sleep (when work needs to get done), that is the question. It is all based on scruples and the ability to bullshit in class. They are all so very good at the latter over here. I am truly learning at the feet of gurus and am beginning to understand the human psyche that much more. 

Tata for now, my fellow sages, because we all have our own knowledge to uncover to others. The point is to reveal it in such a shocking fashion that they shall lose their innocence again and again just thinking about it. Of course, if you are not a sadist, then I suggest desisting from this particular course, but if you are to experience everything that there is to experience than why not try to make others lose their innocence psychologically and metaphysically. 

Peace out girl scout.

Love always,

Miruna B

P.S.

I did not mean to offend, but have been merely recording the truth according to me. It is much like Jose Saramago who got kicked out of Portugal because he talked truthfully about the Portuguese Catholic Church. He lives on the Canary Islands and spends his time walking on the sandy beaches and conversing with birds. I so totally made the last part up, but there is a high possibility that it is true. Stay true to who you are and all will go down the drain. Good night and good luck.

]]> http://sunflowersong.wordpress.com/?p=9 Mon, 30 Jun 2008 15:50:44 +0000 dazedandconfucian http://sunflowersong.wordpress.com/?p=9 This weekend we visted Sokli mountain. On the trip, I met my Korean teacher's son, Chang. Nora's encouragement inspired me to write this dramatic interpretation of the converstation between me and Chang.

SOKLI MOUNTAIN: A play

CHARACTERS

Susan-a half-Korean-American college student who is learning Korean at Kyonghee University.

Chang-the 15 year old  Korean-American son of Susan’s Korean teacher

Susan: Hey Chang how’s it going?

Chang: Okay

Susan: What’s your favorite Korean food?

Chang: I don’t know

Susan: So what are you doing in Korea?

Chang: I’m staying at my grandfather’s house. It’s boring

Susan: What do you do for fun?

Chang: Watch TV

Susan: What’s your favorite subject?

Chang: Nothing

Susan: Do you want some ice cream?

Chang: Sure

Susan: This is good (referring to the icecream)

Chang: Yeah

       -Fin-

“’I refuse to

adhere to

society’s

perception of

academic

aptitude and

mental ability.’

Translation:

‘Yoko nang mag-aral!”

I was so amused by this text message because we had just finished discussing some preliminary concepts of literary translation under Sir Tim Montes’s class. Of course, the translation above is a funny way to look at it, but when I think about the ‘real translation process’ it was really so excruciating that I agree with my professor when he said that translators are really literary masochists. By this he meant that it’s as if you are inflicting pain to your self because to translate is to wrestle two kinds of ideas that may not be substantially equivalent syntactically, semantically, and pragmatically. Yep, it’s really hard to translate. When we are told to translate William Carlos Williams’s short poems, The Red Wheelbarrow and This is Just to Say (just a short exercise – hmmm…) to our preferable native tongue, I was really confused in choosing the right words to appropriate the words used by the poet. I couldn’t find a single word for ‘icebox’, though I can just used the phrases ‘sudlanan sa ice’ or ‘sudlanan ug yelo’ if I want it, but when I read my translated version, the part where those phrases appeared was really awkward to read and terrible, very terrible. I also considered using the word ‘predgidir’ (refrigerator) but it seems so modern, and the way I understood the poem, the ‘icebox’ mentioned in there is literally an ice box, like a cooler or an ice case of some sort. After all these deliberations with myself, I decided to just retain the word ‘icebox’. Sigh.

We’re still discussing literary theories about translations, and I say they are really excruciating. J *laughs. Some of the essays we discussed were interesting. We discussed Eugene Nida’s Principle of Correspondence that talks about how one achieves linguistic, semantic, and cultural equivalence in translation by presenting two different kinds of translation: the formal translation and the dynamic translation.

“…there can be no absolute correspondence between languages. Hence, there can be no fully exact translations. The total impact of a translation may be reasonably close to the original, but there can be no identity in detail.”

- Eugene Nida

We also discussed Katharina Reiss’ “Type, Kind and Individuality of Text: Decision Making in Translation”. According to Reiss, one should establish first the text type, whether it is an informative type (newspaper reports), expressive type (poems, short stories) or operative type (ads). Honestly, the essay was a major torture, so it was a relief that our professor explained it very well (sigh!).

***

<digress-digress-digress->

I’m always hungry every CL185 (Literary Translation) class. That’s because I literally don’t eat lunch every WF, so I can always feel my stomach grumbling. My WF class starts at 10:00 am until 2:30 pm, no lunch break. I thought I could nibble something during class discussions, but I couldn’t do it anyway.

And room 213 sucks. Why? Daghan man gud langaw didto. I’m kind of distracted by them.

As I stepped off the plane early this morning I had second thoughts about being here. Why was I here? What was the reason I had originally planned this trip? I'm, sure of course, that I had some kind of motive of being in the same place as you at the same time...but it wasn't in the hopes of seeing you. I was pretty sure that wasn't going to happen. I really didn't/don't want that to happen. However, I need to see if I can be in places where we spent a lot of time together. I need to make new memories of these places. Yet even as I write this I am missing you so much. I wish that you were here. I've never slept in this bed without you. It feels so strange.

There have been so many times that I have wanted to call or text you. Something that has happened or somewhere I have been that I think you would enjoy hearing about. This place is so full of memories. The funny thing is that all of my memories of us together are good...there are so very few that would even remotely be considered bad?!

I just miss you...as awkward as this may seem...

Such is the case this morning, when a gentleman with a gangly goatee and beige work boots bogarted 1/2 of my seat for his additional comfort, at the expense of yours truly.  He was skinny enough, so it was not an issue of size.  After having set myself down on what I thought was a full seat I was sadly awakened to the ever present upper arm and meaty thigh resting unflinchingly against my body.  I gave it a moment.  Surely this man would realize he was in violation of the unwritten public transportation law that states, "Thou shall honor thy seat space."  Seconds creeped into minutes and I slowly accepted that this ride to work was going to be a bitter and uncomfortable time.   

I had several options.  I debated being a rational human being and politely mentioning that I thought he might be on part of my seat, and could he kindly close his legs and arm span to the point that he was no longer doing so.  The irrational side of me wanted to go all sorts of Courtney Love on him and scream incoherently till he was frightened and fled the train car, freeing not only my half of the seat, but his as well, allowing for a spacious ride for the rest of the commute.  And yet another small part of me thought I should just grin and bear it like a good public citizen who strives for harmony. 

None of these options came to light.  Instead I engaged in the morning activity that most Bostonians resort to when faced with this injustice of public transit:  covert arm and thigh war.   

What he thought was my placid reading of the Friday edition of the Phoenix was really my clever rouse to lull him into complacency.  After a few minutes of mindlessly staring at the sports page, he made his first mistake and moved his arm to remove the lid to his Dunkin Donuts coffee.  I took advantage of my opponent's mistake and darted my right arm into the spaciousness that was rightfully mine.  His arm, unconcious of my ninja-like maneuver, butted up against mine on its return swing.  Score one for Team Nick! 

All that was left was the Battle of the Thigh.  About 5 minutes into the train ride I thought the moment had come.  I felt the unmistakable movement of his leg.  Hardly thinking, I pressed my leg to the right, hoping to quickly occupy the area before he had realized my ploy.  Curses!  A fake out!  He had simply stretched his calf, lifting the unwelcomed thigh upward, but never vacating the area needed for my comfort.  A rookie mistake, grah!  He cast me a sidelong glance, either acknowledging his win in the skirmish, or to ponder why I had provided such strong thigh to thigh pressure (well the Red Line does run through two gay areas of town....).   

Back to square one, but the insurgency was far from over.   Brave soldiers march onward!

Ahhhhhh but my foe was an old hand at this game it seemed, and I never got the opportunity to reclaim my territory on my own terms.  A stalemate.  As the train slowly rattled into the Park Street station, he turned to me, a winner's twinkle in his eye, and informed me that this was his stop.  One good turn deserves another, I figured.   

And so I commited my own public transit sin.  Keeping my ass planted firmly in the seat, I swung my knees to the left, refusing to make his life any easier by actually standing to let him out of the seat.  He shuffled awkwardly past me, grunting slightly in the effort to get to the door before we took off for Downtown Crossing.  I held my breath, as I paid the consequence of my treason by having his ass dance clumsily close to my face.  I smiled on the inside.  Revenge is sweet. 

So boys and girls, in conclusion today:  Stay on your side of the subway seat.

...It's not what good girls do. I will now tell my best lesbian story:

My ex-boyfriend looked rather like a girl. He had kind of cream-pale skin and Little Lord Fauntleroy ringlets. I mean, not anymore--it's really short now, like [psycho] short. But around two years ago, he just looked like the type of femmy boy you'd find in the 1800s. [In addition, his lips were-and still are- like bright cherry juice red. If I looked like him, I'd be mortified. Blehhh.] Once, when we were sitting together in Health 7, he told me that I might be dating a lesbian. I kind of gave him a look, and said, "The last time I checked, you were a boy."

There was a long pause. Then, I said, "Okay, that sounded wrong."

Basically, he'd taken a winding stab at how we'd never been intimate [complaint? Maybe.] I'd just blurted out that we had. We actually hadn't, at that point. I mean, we were in fucking seventh grade. I know there are all those stories about seventh graders getting pregnant blah blah blah, but nobody really does anything at our school. I mean, [grease] has given head. But that's [grease]. Her libido is the size of Jupiter. And maybe, just maybe, [finish] has been fingered during a Hoop Dance or something. But that's [finish]. Who has a sexual appetite akin to the size of [grease]'s. When given the chance, the AA guys probably feel up / finger. Most don't have enough courage to really go through intercourse, though--that's mostly older guys.

So I haven't really done anything all morning. I woke up 7:40ish and immediately remembered that I had an appointment at Faces tomorrow and a baseball game on Sunday. For breakfast I had challah smothered with Nutella. I also had a tiny slice of chicken pizza. I gave myself a mini facial using the stuff my father got from the green peel lady. It seems to be helping, and it's really refreshing. I mainly like the exfoliating paste and the foundation stuff. Lol.]

[psycho], I often get the feeling that you're incredibly insecure. Whenever you go somewhere or do something, you always need the support of [marley] or [glass]. I will admit that I am crazy jealous of how you look.  Simply put, you're what Chris Skrapits drools over in Science class.  Still, you have a terrible attitude.  You're even worse than [glass] in the sense that you really DO only talk to the pretty girls.  Shallow... You're disdainful and possibly even more self-centered than I am. You cheat and you rarely play fair. You don't deserve to have most of the things you do. I can't believe you scored first on the NSE--and everybody knows you had a little help on that.  It WAS an online test after all.  Another thing--I hope Midland puts you in your place next year.  How are you going to do without your booster jets?  Not well at all.  You're a stupid motherfucker and I'm glad you're leaving.

There was something I wanted to add on here.....
Oh ya, about yesterday...I got more songs!!! "Welcome To Machine" by Pink Floyd, and "The Trial" by Pink Floyd. Sure, it's Floyd, so it's awesome. I never heard "The Trial" before, but it was long, and I figured, heck, why not. It's really good, actually...One of the best Pink Floyd songs I have. I'm listening to it right now actually. :D It's just that good.

I am a retard. But in a good way.
I told yesterday. :D I told Scott that I loved him. Of course I didn't say it, but I said it all the same (smileys are wonderful :P). But ya, it was a really awkward conversation. At least for me it was. Probably really awkward for him to, but he didn't write that part all that much. And I'm not going to write what he said, because it's not important. Okay, its important to me, but oh well. You're not me, are you? No, you're not.

Other than that....
Oh ya!
I'm gonna be gone for a whole two weeks.....At my Aunt's house. I have to baby-sit my cousin for the first week, and then the second week is whatever-week. :P I hope she has internet....Or at least a neighbor has wireless I can smooch off of. Because, two weeks without internet? I will DIE. Especially when my social life is tied to it right now. I mean, my WHOLE social life is on the internet. I haven't talked to Christina in any other way than the internet since I spent the night at her house after graduation. So ya, all tied up in the Internet. Sad how that is, but its 100% true. I talk to my mom and dad, and that's it. I haven't talked to anyone on the phone since the 11th of June, and that was with Kenny, so that SO doesn't count - cuz Kenny is a retard who sounds like a girl and only knows how to talk about sex and such related topics.
So I need internet. And I need to talk to SOMEONE other than my five year old cousin. Because, well, she's not that much of a talker. At least for conversational purposes. Not the last time I knew, anyway. And, so glad I most likely won't be seeing my Grandma all the time. That part was really sucky last year. Because I had to see her everyday and it was questions questions questions (worse than my mom!). I mean, how much do you need to know? Not a whole lot, that's the truth. I don't tell this stuff to people, so why are you asking me all about it?
One time, when she was down here visiting, we were in Bi-Mart, and I was looking at a journal (cuz it had lips and lipstick on it (as the pattern!) and I thought it was awesome) and she came up and whispered-asked me if I was still a virgin! Um, hello!!! You're not allowed to ask me that! You're my Grandma, not my mom. Not important information for you to know! Actually, my mom asked me that not too long ago,in a different way. Because I hadn't started yet for the month (and she always knows when I'm supposed to because she gets headaches when I'm PMSing (weird, yes)). Anyway, she asked me if I had started, I said no. She asked if I was late, and I said, ya, but I didn't mind, I wanted it to wait until summer (I hate having to deal with it at school....it's living hell, in hell). And then she asked me if I had had sex (you're late, so you're pregnant, I guess is the theory). I said no, cuz, well, its true. I asked her when I would have sex, cuz I never leave the house, and when I do it's nowhere where there are boys. She said anytime. Ya, righ