I Must Get This Candy Out of My Room

I brought 6 lbs of fun-sized candy to Ecuador in my hiking backpack. This stuff makes great gifts, as Reeses, Snickers, Kit Kat and the like are very hard to find and expensive at that. I have it all planned out in my mind who I’m going to give the candy to and how much (150 pieces divided by 5 or 6, depending on how much I want to spread the love). Unfortunately, I don’t have any gift bags and Ecuadorians are pretty big on ceremony for gifts. Actually, I think anyone would be kind of weirded out if you just dumped a plastic bag full of partially melted candies on their kitchen counter. I’m working to find gift bags, but my rout to work and home is much more erudite than it was last time around. There are no cabinas for calling people, no internet cafes, no “bazar-peluqueria-deli-tiendita-minimercado-tienda-de-fiestas-infantiles” that occupied the ground floor of my old rooms.

Besides the awkwardness of giving people gifts after you’ve been hanging out with them for two weeks, the other problem is that I want to eat the candy. I’m still at that point with my hosts of not feeling comfortable walking around the house barefoot and I am constantly apologizing to the maid. I walked into the kitchen and saw she was there with a mop. She and the mop were on opposite sides of the room, but I remembered my mother’s sternness to never spoil a clean floor. I immedietley start apologzing. She’s like “whaaaaa” and keeps washing dishes. I wanted to make myself some kind of non candy snack. I need vegetables, they are usually just as garnish, thin pink slices of tomato and canoes of avocado.

Yesterday, at the subcentro, I had the most disgusting lunch. When I first looked at it, I thought it was some kind of cebiche thing. I’ve eaten raw fish before, and while its not my favorite, it’s paltable. I tasted the sauce, thick and wood colored, little half-potatoes all around. Peanuts. Raw fish and peanut? No, not fish, no blessing of muscle, just the soft give of subcutaneous fat. Oh yuck. Oh god, I’m eating skin. It’s cut into neat squares and there is plenty of sauce and potatoes and rice (yes please, I’ll have some bread with my bread) so I make do, slapping a square between a half-moon of potatoe and a pile of rice. I don’t even bother with the avocado until I’m ten squares in, there is no reason to ruin beauty with this monster of a dish.

I’ve been picking out only the cleanest, whitest squares, not even thinking about thier origin, just looking to get them into and out of my mouth as quickly as possible. As the other doctors enter, including 1 super gringa and 1 medium gringa medical students, I am only mocked for my consumption of, what I now find out, is pork skin. PORK! the dirtiest of animals! The cloven footed sin! The carried of tricknonois and Tay Sachs and botched circumcisions, killer of my people! So recently covered in bristles and rolling in mud. Un cooked, sliced and drenched in peanut butter and mayonnaise. As we are discussing this, I get down to the nastier chunks. Reddish or brownish, they cling together with bits of the skin, or the little tubes and levers that keep us in one piece. I am not eating this. Its time for rice and avocado.

Of course, my suffering is not over. We have to listen to the two gringas complain and be grossed out, discussing the minutea of the texture as I feel it swim in my stomach. I ate in silence, they push food around their plates with complaints and I want to bolt out of there and throw up in the corn plot behind the house. The dentist (who I think is kind of an alcoholic) and the Doña’s husband (the Don) are drinking beer and they offer me some. There’s the perfect 3 once juice glass filled with amber Pilsener, bubbles rising. As I accept the doctor and nurse launch into long rants about how it is deeply irresponsible to drink on the job. My glass sits in front of me untouched, my sociology textbook humming in my ears about gatekeepers and cultural customs, the pigs are flying in my stomach.

Tina's First Day of School

I am glad that it is societally acceptable to be scared of bugs, because I am scared of bugs. There are bugs in my bathroom. I don't even want to describe them. I guess 400 meteres down really does make a difference.

However, today was, if not fun, at least extremely productive, which is odd for first days and definitely for Ecuador.

I met my dueña, Tamara in the parking lot by the supermarket by school. She took me to the house which is like 2 k up a mountain from the highway. This will be my form of exercise, I will call it "adventures in urban hiking." The house is really excellent, except for these bugs. It has lots of exposed roof beams, little alcoves (hiding bugs, I bet), uniquely bending staircase, a balcony by my room, and an avacado tree. This is all I could ask for. Additionally, I am in love with someone in the family but I don;t know who. My room has some stuff in it from the rest of the family, including a cabinet filled with at least 300 cds, all of which I already love or want to listen to or have never heard of or forgot I was obsessed with. And these are not burned disks on a spool, no, they are in thier cases with booklets and coverart. There are boxsets of Wilco, Dylan, Bowie, Green Day. This is audiotory heaven. And the bookshelf! My current forrunners are "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running" but Murakami, "Please Kill Me: An Oral History of Hardcore Punk," and a Patti Smith book, all in spanish. Now that's what I'm talkin about. There are also biographies and coffee table books of Lou Reed, The Clash, and Mafalda. Someone had ganas and disposable income. And behind me are at least 40 dvds: Bottle Rocket, seasons of the simpsons, T Rex, Pavement, and Sigur Ros concerts. You know. Just bragging. So I will not even complain a lick about those bugs in my bathroom.

So after seeing the wonderful house, I went to school and did some computer stuff. Then I went to Puembo and surprised everybody. Spent a lot of time with Doña M and her kids who both love me and I like them. They are very down to earth and happy. I am impressed. They have puppies and a new room. The doc still thinks I am weird, I think. There are two medical students that are also assisting/watching, one from Venezuela and one who actually goes to George Washington U and UMD for undergrad. Small world.

Anyway, we all ate lunch, but me and the kids second b/c there wasn't enough space. After lunch, I went back to La Primavera, where I live. Tried to find a telephone cabina, but there were none. Pilar had told me she would be at the hospital with Santi (the sick guy) at 3 and it was like 330 so I decided to walk to the clinic. It was my first adventure in urban hiking! I walked uphill for 45 minutes, stopping twice to ask directions and once to cry. I got to the clinic and Santi was sleeping and his mom was there and she called Pilar who told me to come to the consultorio. SOOOOOO I rode the bus for another hour then go to Abuela's house (where the consultorio is). Sat around for 2 hours, chatting with: Abuela, Diego, Monika, Paulina, Carlos, the Cuban physical therapist, someone with a baby. Gaby came, went to the hospital. I didn't need to wait there for so long because pilar had given me the keys, but I really didn't wnat to get a taxi from the house for myself, I was worried it would cost like 30 dollars or at least 13. So after a long time (including a really weird session with abuelo, I'll go off about him later), Piliar, Ilidan and I left the house and ran into Miguel, the taxi driver friend. He took us to Pilar's house, Jimmy helped me carry my stuff down, and the Miguel and I chatted all the way to Cumbayá and I didn't have to worry about getting murdered. It all only cost $10.

Around 8 Tamara and Alberto came home, and we ate locro, choclo, chicken, and salad. Note to self do not eat empanadas and bread at abuelas house, you will be well fed at home. I like my new dueños, they are friendly and are giving me a ride down the hill at 645 tomorrow. Maybe only one session of urban hiking a day.

24 hours in Ecuador and I've already:

-Taken 2 taxis, 3 car rides, and 8 car rides

-eaten chicken organs, pork cutlets, empanadas, white rolls, sugar-not-corn-syrup-cola, big-kernal corn (choclo), and mayonnaisse-based cream sauce, national foods of Ecuador

-been whistled at three times

-made a goofy error ("They laid down" instead of "they were assaulted")

-forgotten everyone's name

-gotten sunburned.

-checked my pocked for my money 456,878,874 times.

-rode a llama (jk lolz)

Made it to Quito!

I thank the blessed entropy (not my phrase, her's) that got me here, and the wing-flaps extending that got me to stop. Flying over the valley, I thought of Saskia's feeling that Kenya was part of the earth as a woman's body. If I were to force that metaphor, I think Quito would be the thumbprint. Jagged, green and smoothed but harsh faults and mesas from a chemical erupbtions under the skin. Flying over, circling the city, I felt the thrum of joy as I reconized the Rio Chicha, the Parque Metropolitano, and the curves and nadirs that make up the outskirt suburbs. We swooped so low that I could see the cars of Avenia Naciones Unidas, see a bullfighter practicing with his red cloth in the taurion stadium (I am not making this up), Jamie and Scott's apartment building, the Unicorn statue I'd shoot past in pre-dawn taxi rides. Everything I see remindes me of some silly K joke. Those really funny videos of pratfalls and pranks we watched on the way to the galapagos? They are called Just for Laughs, they are produced in Montreal, and they are available on the back-of-the-seat LAN tvs. The shuttle we sat on for like 45 minutes that one time? Tourists are still trapped there. That rediculous hamburger stand? Still hilarious. I'll have to get his under control.

I am here, I am safe. I can still speak Spanish and people understand me and do not laugh at me. This feels so good. I got to get a taxi, remember street names. I got to greet my grandmother. They asked how my family was doing, asked by name. Asked if "my mother was still a psychologist" which isn't really a transient state but is still really nice. Illidan, who was like a 4 month old baby when I first met him, is a year old and in that stage where he just wants to walk around holding other peoples hands and throwing balls under the table.

I called Pilar at the airport, million pounds of baggage on my back. The phone call cost 30 cents. Took a taxi to abuelas house- 6 dollars. Ecuadooooor, and the financial situation is easy. Abuela gave me cafecito and stale bread and delicious butter. I was offered ancient, sweating cheese handmade by an aquaintance. The best way to avoid this is to pretend you don't see the cheese and that the person offeirng it to you is just talking about cheese in the abstract. We got a ride through gridlock traffic from Aunt Monica. Luckily, we made ourselves a third lane (baby Ili on a lap in the front seat) and made it home fast.

The baby is staying with Pilar while Santi is in the hospital, sometimes Benja, the 8 year old, does too. He's scared without his mom who has super attachment parenting parented him. He misses "la teta" and thinks the bottle is a poor substitute. But he liked being naked without his diaper, and liked playing with his little penis and laughing at his own body. We updated each other on gossip. i gave her the thrift store shirts (this is more awesome than it sounds) and I think she liked them. Ecuadorian gift giving is something I'm really bad at. I just didn't want to give her them in front of people. Oh SNAP I forgot a hostess gift for my dueños. But! I have been assured that the dueños are awesome, non creepy people. It's a mom and a dad and I'm meeting her in the Supermaxi parking lot of Cumbaya tomorrow at 9. Hallelulaja! Everything worked out just as well as it could have. And I think I'll be asleep by 8:30.

It is such a cool feeling to return to a place. It's very strange to have the memories still be fresh but stored in long term memory. I walk into the kitchen and feel that it's morning, I need to make breakfast but at the same time awash with how things have changes slightly. But the conditioning is still there. the house has a water filter with two switches you turn to get the clean water. It's run by electricty and the circuit was making it electrocute you when you switched it on for like two months. I've still got my Pavlovian fear of the switches.

Here I am. I can't believe I'm here. I can't believe I'm writing so much. I can't believe it. I never thought I;d really come back. I never thought my spanish would stay, that people would recognize me, that I'd rememmber words and pictures. But I did! It was worth it, i think, just to be able to listen to someone listen to the radio. I'm not writing very coherently, this won't go n the blog. i am so happy to be back in this big bed. It's very odd, because what was familiar about the bed was it's not-my-bedness and now this same unfamiliar bed is what I feel a connection to. Has the subject become the object? Have the colonized become the emperors? Has my graphomania continued unabated? Is it getting hot in here or do I just have a QUITO FEVER!!!

Miami Fieldnotes- PART TWO (family worries)

Things have gotten a little more itchy since my battery hit 8% and I stopped writing. It was 10 then, and I hustled over the the LAN counter because that is when they were opening check in for the Quito flight. LAN was its typical 45 minutes late which I didn't mind. I'm reading Gary Schyngart's Super Sad True Love Story which I really like so I was just sitting on the ground chillin. Of course, I also took an hour nap between 430 and 530 on the floor of gate C8 in BWI, so its not like I'm one for ceremony. I have this little beanbag pillow but its in a normal sized pillow case, so I can sleep on that and wrap the excess fabric around my eyes. I clutch my backpack and put my passport inside the front of my pants. Hobo 4 lyfe.

Anyway, I checked in and all. People (namely, the LAN clerk, the Dunkin Donut's clerk, and this silly Argentinian family who almost forgot thier passports in security, have been speaking to me in Spanish and nodding and giving me coffee with milk when I ask for coffee with milk and generally not laughing at me or slapping at me for cultural apropriation or anything. It's very satisfying to feel like I retained some semblance of fluency. Of course, I don't think I could say "It's very satisfying to feel like I retained some semblance of fluency" in Spanish, but we'll get there. I can ask for coffee with milk and that's a lot more useful.

One thing that is not useful at all is the pay phones in the Miami airport. I need to call two people:

1. my grandparents. I really need to do this, and I am feeling guilty and stressed that I am not. I know I could send them an email or call them tomorrow, but I feel like they are really depending on this for thier happiness or something. This might be one thing I need to let good

2. My mom to see if Pilar wrote on my wall saying she was coming to the airport or not. So, if there was a damn intternet cafe in this place, I could do that myself, but that is apparently too passe in this world of iphones and äppärät (thats a Schyngart reference for you).

I have tried to use numerous payphones. Twice, they have eaten my dollar that it now takes to make a long distance call. Twice for my Grandparents and twice for my mom I've gotten the busy signal which seems oddly coincidental unless they are talking to each other. I'm so hesitant to try again because its very hard to get change and I don't have my many dollars in quarters on me. I keep going into these recursive magazine and candy stores and asking for change from these grouchy cuban ladies and of course they say no. Of course, I don't want to buy chips or magazines, I've got too much already, calories and stuff to carry. I bought some chapstick with a 20 and that got me like 17.50 in change, but it's down to a five and a ten now, and I'm back where I started. I'm so hesitant to use those phones. Did you know the little coin return cover has a lip that catches quarters? That is a manufacturing feature that is just evil. Why would they design something that is supposed to return your money to catch your money? Its impossible to get out if you have fingers of normal lenght, too. Believe me, the passengers on the 12:40 to Ottawa as my wittness, even if you jab your middle finger in there (the longest and most brash finger), you can't get those quarters out, even if you squat and mutter to yourself. Not even that helps.

Well, I've got two and a half hours before my flight leaves and an hour till I board. The next conundrum: buy a 7$ fancy ass sandwhich that will probably be bad or a 2$ McDonald's sandwhich which will also probably be bad. I do not even know in this situation.

I'll try calling each family member once more and then give up. Ma and grandma and grandpa, if I do not make contact with you, I sincerely apologize. I am safe in the Miami airport, keep on keeping on.

Miami Fieldnotes- THE FIRST

Miami airport is strange, that can be confirmed, especially when you are wandering semiaimlessly for 5 hours with 45 pounds of technology and magazines on your back.

Flying in, the delicate breakwater islands and the skyscrapers, i wanted to live here, maybe. There'd certainly be work in interpretation or teaching or whatever. It's overcast and humid and about 90 degrees and I know there's no respite of winter, but the red roofs are uniform, the buildings are low, football fields are frequent. There's something poetic about living on a land so flat and so close to the sea. So close to drownding. The city is filled with huge puddles, most desguised as golf corses. Hide the sinkholes with sand traps. The square blocks of water might be shrimp ponds.

Inside the airport, I realize that this place was shocking when I we got back last time because it is a shock. People coordinate thier movements in ways that you'd never see elsewhere- 45 boyscouts all searching the leg-pockets of thier cargo pants as their leader commands them. two old men, four adult sons and one little boy all wearing matcihng "white guy on vacation" shirts, printed with blue leaves. Did all the wives stay home? Were they banned because they wanted to wear non-matching capri pants? A family of five each pushes a luggage cart in perfect synchrony, identicle bad posture and hung heads.

Types of transport I've seen:

Cops of bikes, segways, feet. Carts ranging from single perosn golf carts to mini buses. Endless umbrella strollers. A woman in a wheelchair with two children on her lap.

People look at me bad in the airport bathroom when I scrub my neck with paper towels (packed the soap) and wash out my toothpaste with warm automatic facuet water. What? Can't a girl take an acidopholous pill at a waterfountain without getting flack about it? You're the one who's plucking your eyebrows and leaving the extra hairs all over the edge of the sink- what is this, my co-op house?

There's lots of iterations in the airport. It's shaped like a giant U but badly explained, so I ended up out of security immeditely and outside more than once. There's so many men in construction vests, so many help-staff in absolutely hideous shirts. It's seriously the ugliest shirt design I have ever seen. They must look tacky on purpose. At every check-in station there are workers in black jumpsuits with neon green patches, vigeriously spinning baggage on these steel lazy-susan like aparatuses and wrapping them in the same bright color of plastic wrap. It makes sense, its a useful thing to do to an overstuffed or flimsy bag, but their work is so rapid and repetitive that it looks like that of manufacture rather than maintinece and prevention. Chuck Klosterman sees the airport, especially international airports as huge working bodies. Acutally, he sees them as purgatory, but I see them as cells. These wrappers of TrueStar SecureBag perform some important function. They are the rhizozomes, producing goldgibodies. Maybe they are some organ that makes the cellulose to keep the cell wall strong and with its gifts for the folks unstolen. As soon as the bags are coated they are thrown on the conveyor belt, into the nucleus.

I forgot to call my grandparents before I left, earning major bad family karma. I left my cell phone at home because I only would use it to make this call. I'm bouncing back and forth between businesses to get quarters for the pay phone. Hudson news lady tells me to buy something. I find nothing under 2$ which is a real monopoly they have, let me tell you. My great grandma would creak out in russian tones "Zhey take advantaj!" So I go to starbucks, coffee is 2.30, the barrista tells me they have a change machine. I wander around, doing that drunk-esque walk where you just slam from one foot to the other turning rapidly. I go to the infromation desk, a lady who I thought was maybe African but she speaks in spanish to a janitor. I ask if there's a change machine, there isn't, I explain the situation. I go back to Hudson news, store of dissatisfaction. I put my backpack on her desk to check for quarters.

"I let you use my phone."

"What? No, I can't do that. I don't want to abuse your job"

"Not my job, not thier phone. Just use my phone"

"Are you sure? You shouldn't do this if you don't want to"

She picks up this early model black berry in one of those bulky plastic and fabric cases and slides it down the counter. I pull out my pink notecard: US Phone #s. Call G&G. As I punch in the 513 area code, the phone pulls up lots of names that start with Fe....but my grandparents aren't in her contacts.

No answer. "It's still early in texas."

"Do you want to try again?"

"No, I'll wait a while. Thank you so much."

"When I'm in texas, you let me use your phone."

"Of course. Thank you"

"I'll be here until 3 if you want to come back."

"Thank you"

I walk towards my terminal (still unsure if its J or H), no longer doing that zig-zag scissors walk. Now I'm a drunk reformed, back straigt under weight, feet forward. I might just be faking it until I get out of her motherly gaze, but I really do want to make her proud. I'm glad my grandma didn't answer- to slip her the $1 I would have for using her minutes would have been tacky and destroyed my interaction with the culture, my participant observation in how this supercell works.

I´m heeeeere! In the USFQ computer lab where I´ve written so many other insepid badly spelled posts. All is well, a great house, still know spanish and buses. Nothing to upload yet, Its all on the computer, but damn did I write a lot in that Miami airport. Get ready for some heavy reading.

Love,
D

See You on the Other Side

Of the equator, that is! No post that details my manic packing or my nailbiting avoidance of issues, or my broken copy machine. I'll do more Miami Airport Fieldnotes (that could be a whole genre in my writing, culture shock observations), but from this point on its all Quito, all the time. When it's not escapist pictures of punk rockers or longwinded feminist rants.

Good thing I've got my absolutely required reading, especially for a person by herself in a strange place.

Good luck to you all at this latitude!

Yo soy una mujer sincera

con un corazon de melon de mi alma

y andtes de irme

quiero escribir estos versos de calma

i'm an honest woman

with a heart of melon for my soul

and before I go

I want to write these poems of calm

bad translation, but I like rhymes.

not super interesting, just summer life

I almost hit a woman in the crosswalk today.

I cut fruit for sangria, I boiled beets for salad, I made peanut sauce and a yogurt dressing. I cut cucumbers into crudites. I watched Anis Mogjani endlessly (until it ended). LINK.

I ate at elevation burger and spent time with my neighbors, realizing I've lived my life paraleell, next to, so damn close, to thiers for years. And that people have always done that, lived close to people they have no real connection to before the cloesness started and they started understanding and forming opinons about each others lives. That's something really interesting.

Nap in the sun burnt airconditioning of ma's room. I fell asleep 45 seconds after I lay down and snored. According to reliable sources.

I saw Terry (link to shark blog) today, we ate caloric pot pie and watched TV. I bet its totally #trending but that show Wilfred is really weird. It's the first show to feature weed so prominantly, I think this means that it will soon be legalized.

As I was walking with him back from the house he was house sitting to the house were he lives, we heard this woman scream and yell "oh, please don't hurt me!" It's a nice residential neighborhood in Takoma Park, so it was quiet and abnormal. We listend, my keys between my fingers, his phone out to call 911. Two teenagers walked by, holding hands, smoking a j cooly. We talked about how we had heard someone yell soon, but they couldn;t do anything, doing drugs in public and all. And so we walked, and when a cop stopped us and asked if we had seen someone running with a purse we exhaled. Purses are worth less than the Girl-With-The-Dragon-Tattoo Sex-den-rapist-killer stuff we were both thinking.

As I got home, I slammed my knee into the coffee table and I'm pretty sure I'm out for the count. Thank you for ice packs and healing.

To look into further:

-jerrymandering in Florida

-what if you asked people to draw thier own district maps? What would that show you about people's understanding of geography? of neighborhoods?

-slam poetry

-me writing slam poetry

-Digital Voice Recorders (really look into this one, you need one for Ecuador)

-The TV show "Louie"

No Sleep Till Thursday

Its 345 am, my computer charger only sort of works, and I am filled with insomnia and backpain both rare to me. I'm nervous-but-excited for Ecuador. I know that I will get it all once I get there, that things will work out, but there are so many things I need to do to get settled, so many moments and interactions I will need to negotiate. The moment I get off the plane and go through customs won't be that hard, I will just be tired and hating my luggage and clutching my passport. But the moment after that might be hard. I'm not sure if anyone will be at the airport for me. I really should not worry about this, I should be able to land some place and do my own thing, but I've got this vision of thieves seeing that I don't have a hostmama to get me and stealing all my stuff on the sidewalk by the airport and everyone laughing at the lonely gringa. Did you know that I love self pity?

The reason I might not get picked up is Pilar might be busy. I'm not sure of the current situation, but I know that about a week ago, her daughter's fiancee (and father to her grandchildren) had a brain hemmorage. This guy, Santi, is a total saint, a wonderful guy, and the breadwinner for his family. It's scary for numerous reasons; as far as I knew he was in good health and he can't be more than 35. So this is scary beause someone is very sick who no one expected to be very sick, and my mama might not be there to meet me at the airport. She might also be at the hospital or talking care of her daughter and grandsons. I talked to hannah today, though, and she says I can stay at her house that first night I get off the plane before I go to Cumbaya. I really appreciate that, to be able to go to someone I already know and trust. Her mama, Miriam, is another member of the Saints, so I know I'll be well taken care of.

Another moment that I keep rolling over is my travel to and arrival at my house where I'll be staying. Will I go alone or with someone? Who- Jimmy? Hannah? Pilar? If I go alone I'll definitely take a taxi, but if I go with someone I guess we could divide my stuff for the bus...but I've never been there before and I don;t want to wander the streets of Cumbaya with all my stuff. I'll take a taxi. Will I need to act tough? I've got this idea that my dueño will be some Humbert Humbert (LINK) esque fellow who will leave me creepy sexual hints all over the house that I will have to awkwarldy ignore, dumping rose-scented love letters down the toilet and throwing away pink-iced cakes. That could be a little amusing, especially because I;m past the Lolita fashion stage. Or he could be a down right assaulter. But that just doesn't seem likely. I made it clear that I want privacy, silence, and security. I have my own room in a non-high traffic part of the hosue. I have a lock on the door. I'll have my phone on me and Hannah on alert for the police. I can do this. And really, I'm just focusing on this person (the world I'll be using is dueño, which means "owner" but also like "landlord" or "guy from whom I rent") because I'm worried about men in general in Ecuador and how I'll behave around them to keep myself safe. Zak suggested buying pepper spray and I think that's a good idea.

But there's tons of stuff I'm excited for. I'm so excited to see the mountains again, to feel that lightheaded dizzy spin as I lie down. I'm excited to be in public spaces that I love and are so different, like the fruit markets, the grocery store, the pharmacy. I'm so excited to be on a bus again. I took a bus down H St with Michael and it was so great to know how to do it. It was also free because the smarttrip reader was broken, making it the only thing in the US cheaper than in Ecuador. I'm excited to see my favorite parks and little roadside patches of grass with statues. It's going to be so wonderful to recognize things, to remember them and myself and others within them but learn them again in this time and place. i wish I was a photographer so I could capture that feeling of return with images. I'm not, I'll grab it with words. I wil snag it when it finds me because I know what it feels like. It is a combination of many feelings, that sensation of return. It feels like the need to write, firstly, which feels to me like the need to pee but from your fingers. All your carple tunnel muscles ache, but ache to be abused more. My tailbone needs firm contact with something hard, my knees want bend. My head rests on my chin, the perfect posture laptops allow. My arms go weak and my fingers get smart and my sensory percption goes way up. My ears begin to name what goes through them, my eyes search for depth of field. I sniff for clues, I start to drool a little bit. I need to call up every memory linking to anything that's familiar around me while simulatneously suck in all that data for more memory making and more instant and further analysis. It's a combination of entry, processing, and storage and I really love it. For all my vigilance, it;s a very calm sensation for most of my body. I'm being slowly lowered into a pool of blue aloe vera gel and once my head is under my eyes will really open and my lungs will breathe fine. As soon as I reall remember what this place was like, as soon as I really understand where I am at that present second, I'll be with it, so good to go that I'll skip and run to my bus stop or meeting point. When that recognition enevlopes me, I am so strong.

Back to Writing

Today's Achievements:

1. Renewed Driver's License
2. Procured Costco (oh glorious American land!) membership and bought a buncha stuff including:

-many genetically modified fruits for sangria

-an external hard drive

-allergy medication that was unfathomably cheap. Why can I buy 360 Allerteckzx for 12 dollars but people cannot afford their antiretrovirals in this same zip code? this is shameful

-Salsa

3. Called my grandpa for father's day, talked about Eriksonian developmental psychology. What do you talk to your grandparents about?

4. Wrote so many emails. Yeah communication

5. Got chiropracted. Yeah health insurance. Yeah bone allignment

6. Ate spicy Indian food in the Union Station food court. Saw my buddy

7. Snuck in/didn't pay for this Irish dance class that I really enjoyed and was so so bad at and will have shin splints as a result of tomorrow

8. Went to a Jewish-Irish pub on H st and Michael told me this joke:

-What's the difference between a bear and a semicolon?

-A bear has claws at the end of its paws, and a semicolon has a pause at the end of its clause. LULZ

-also, did you know that hackers took over SEGA? That's so awesome. The internet isn't safe and that's great. Keeps people on their toes.

9. Lots of planning, communication, following through. Many many text messages. Eye contact, handshakes, nods. I CAN, as my facebook status proclaims, ACHIEVE IT ALL.

#inane lists #daily life