Back to Spain

So summer in NYC has been pretty much awesome. My parents, god bless them, saw the [failed] struggle for a job and were nice enough to support my antics. I’ve been down to the Jersey Shore (the nice part – no snooki smush smush here), out on the Island and generally roaming around the city, which is just about my favorite thing to do. Now that NYC summer is settling down (and Malaga summer has yet to begin), I’m getting a little sad, ya know, a little bit of ex-pat guilt. I bought my ticket yesterday and when it was time to check out I burst into tears. TEARS! I never cry, but maybe that’s why I feel so guilty sometimes. I figured that I was just upset to leave my parents, but I have never been so emotional about it before. I guess its because last year is the longest (and farthest) that I’ve been away from them so naturally I am affected. I could also do better with my skyping/gcalling them (and all of my friends) and I will most definitely do so this year, calling EVERY night and emailing and stuff.

I’m still anxious about graduate school and the future but I read a great quote today on one of my favorite blogs: “Live life as if you will die tomorrow, but prepare for my life as if you will live forever.” I think that my problem is that I have no balance. I do all of the preparing, but I am always busy overlooking today and tomorrow. So today I’m going to enjoy this episode of Charmed-yes Charmed-that I’m watching and tomorrow I’ll continue the Grad school applications and my blissful unemployment.

Y LA FERIA EN DOS SEMANAS!

Rehab

Round Midnight, she told us she wasn’t going to Rehab. And while her Tears Dried on Their own, she faded Back to Black. You couldn’t Help Yourself. Amy, Amy, Amy… you shouldn’t have had to Wake Up Alone.

 

RIP

HP FANS…. Love this as much as I did.

http://www.abunchofeverything.com/post/2079768672/author-josh-so-funny

The Big Bad Graduate School Monster

Yes, it is a monster. An expensive, scary and ginormous (yes) monster. Ever since I can remember, I’ve worried about the future. I am a worry-er. I worry about tomorrow before today starts. It’s terrible, I should enjoy the moment and I do for the most part – but the worry is always nagging.

I’ve been worrying about graduate school ever since I graduated college in May (twentyTEN), even though I knew I wouldn’t be going straight in. Now, the dark cloud is looming and I am worrying. Worried about picking the right program, worried about when I graduate (already thinking about the end of it when it hasn’t even started), worried about the debt I’ll be in AFTER I graduate. Yes I have a problem, yes I’m aware of it and yes I’m working on it.

Nevertheless, I am also EXCITED!!!!!! I love school, I love learning, and I’m really happy that this time around I’ll be able to pick exactly what I want to study and not a random major at a lib arts school. I loved my years at college, but if I could do it all again I would have studied something completely different, or maybe even gone to a bigger school with more major choices. My alma matter did teach me to think analytically, be professional, and think of things on a broad yet interconnected scale, but it failed to give me something specific. Graduate school is my great second chance and an opportunity to really focus on one thing. Whether or not I know what that thing IS is another blog post for another day because this one is long enough already but I’m still excited. At least the worry isn’t strong enough to overtake the excitement.

Yowzas

Well it has been almost six months since my last post on this blog and I am ashamed of that, but then again I am not a “real” blogger by any means so I’m over it. Plus, one of my real life friends (hi Selasi)  incessantly stalked and found my blog and I’m one of those people that would never say any of this in real life so therefore is painfully uncomfortable with people that I know reading the blog. Oh well.

I finished my year as an Auxiliar and I must say I didn’t like it very much. I think that the fact that I was really just looking for a legal way to live in Spain blinded me to the fact that I have always said that I would never be a teacher. My kids were wonderful though, even though they were probably the worst students in Spain, hated and misbehaved with all their other teachers and never really did anything other than pretend to learn English from me. Plus my school’s principal is a typical Spaniard, anything to save face so never say anything to my actual face… Girl BYE.

Despite this, I will be returning to Spain next year to continue giving private english lessons – SO much money to be made. I am also looking to pursue an internship with any organization that works with international development or immigrant issues. I volunteer with an organization teaching Spanish to 2 Nigerian women and a woman from Algeria, and while I do like it, I want something more of the 9-5 consulting/office experience. I’ll continue to volunteer, but if I can find an internship it’d be awesome. I also have the possibility of working as a dance instructor at a gym (random right?) so why not. My boyfriend says that I am a great “buscavida,” and I totes magotes agree. I’ll be in Spain next year, not having to worry about any requirements as an auxiliar and pretty much free to do what I want. It’s an eye opening experience, also a sobering one. I feel like I have grown so much as a person and while there were hard times – the typical expat ones where you see all your friends having the time of their lives in Facebook while you’re lonely as hell, the “omg I have a new awesome job” status updates, [for me] the REALLY annoying Spaniards staring at me as if they’ve never seen a black (I know you have) or an afro ALL THE TIME – all of this just made me stronger and more independent. I’ve also stopped repressing my adventurous streak in the pursuit of what I’m “supposed” to do.

I’m currently in the best city in the world with the fam, so I’ll probably be talking about that a lot for the next couple of months and then right back to Malaga, maybe even in time for the feria.

Toma Ya

I went from being bored night and day (but not really) to only one night of the week off. How did this happen? Well, with all my free time I’ve decided to take Flamenco classes and tutor some espanoles.

1. Flamenco dancing is pretty much me unlearning EVERYTHING I’ve ever learned in my years of dancing hip-hop, salsa, ballet (just a touch), and others. I have disastrous hands, always have, and they do NOT help in Flamenco. Thanks for these big hands dad, they’re worthy of hiding in pictures (which i ALWAYS forget to do).

2. Tutoring is easy/trying/awkward/a quick buck. I have four students: Loli and Javi, who are the parents of my boyfriend’s best friends (gotta have enchufes in spain) and two little girls, Racquel and Friend (is it bad that after about 2 months of tutoring I still don’t know friend’s name? they told me what it was on the first day, I quickly forgot, and now I wait hopefully week after week for someone to say it). Loli is a retired French professor so our lessons are pretty much me saying something in english, her getting it very quickly and then explaining way better than I ever could to her husband – “Javi, te has enterado??” The girls are typical girls of age 11-12, very bashful and endless giggling. Surprisingly though, they’re not obsessed with my personal life like my students are.

3. Sometimes I fudge up English. I speak Spanish 95% of the time because I live with my boyfriend and I don’t have that very many American friends here so its weird, but I spell things wrong now and have to proofread twice as much.

My mommy is coming in about three weeks for the new years, I’m excited and anxious at the same time. My first time at my bf’s house, I was told one anecdote about his father’s pincel (look it up-It’s not clean), another charming anecdote about his grandfather’s African shipmate who made a prostitute run away (his nickname was tripod), and learned a couple of interesting spaniard slang words. So I wonder what’s in store for my mom when its her first time at the house WITH alcohol involved. Le sigh.

Dear Viejos

Dear Viejos of Spain,

I think you are all very cute, really I do. I like that you are in the bars ALL the time, and that you know every name of every street in Malaga (impossible a feat to me).

However,

To the particular old lady who decided to get involved in an already heated argument with dear old bus driver… Just because you are old does NOT mean that I have to bow down to you. So yes, I yelled at you. Next time mind your business and go gossip about everyone in the barrio.

Sincerely,

Your friendly American neighbor.