Dondeques

When you live in a co-op house, you should not poop with the bathroom door open, no matter how alone you think you are.

This is so bad. I am literally wearing a scarf today to cover up a cat hickey.

I’m so cold. It’s so cold here in my new house. I left a glass of water on the counter, then came back to drink it, and it felt like it had been in the fridge. The water in the shower doesn’t get warm enough. I am in my clothes, a bathrobe, and a hat and I’m still cold. My nose is cold. I’m getting sick. All snuffly, headache-y and sore-throaty. I thought at first it was because of poorly washed dishes, but now I’m thinking it’s the drafty window near my head where I sleep.

I just need to complain a bit. But I know I’m lucky. I can walk, I have a place to live, I can vote. I cried after I voted today, just thinking about how lucky I am to be able to do it, after all the struggles that women went through to allow me to vote. And it’s funny that even now, it still feels like a privilege. I guess actually that’s kind of f-ed up that I still feel grateful to be allowed to vote.

I’ve been presenting myself pretty androgynously and asexually lately. Mostly because I’m completely confused about my sexuality. It literally varies by the day. So I’m fine with not dating anyone until I figure myself out, but every once in a while, I miss that little rush you get when someone pays you extra attention.

Except I guess what am I talking about—I got hardcore hit on by a woman the other day when I volunteered planting trees. I gave her my number too. But we haven’t exchanged much in terms of communication. But I guess female attention in my male-approval-seeking brain doesn’t count.

So there are my two contradicting paragraphs for you.

I’m 1/4 moved in to my new room. We’re bringing the furniture tomorrow. I brought boxes of clothes today, and after I put them down, I just sat and looked out the window. I felt no excitement, because I know how dangerous that is. Just a timid peace.

Not talking

I haven’t been talking in my sleep at all lately. I’ve found that I only really talk if I’ve been conversing with someone right before I sleep and if I get a solid amount of sleep.

That’s not really interesting, it’s just an explanation for why this blog has gone straight south. No offense to those people who live south of other people.

Road trip

We’re in Omaha right now. The Midwest is a total bullshit place of farms and corn. Look what great stuff the white man did for these once-savage lands.

I just applied for a job as a union organizer in New Haven.

Seanen (Alani’s husband, who I am traveling with) is an absolutely outrageous person. He enjoys talking to people and doing ridiculous things just to see what their reactions will be. In the past few days, I’ve gone from cringing when it happens to watching in amusement. It is making me a lot friendlier, but in my own way, obviously. No getting in people’s faces, just more willing to chat than I normally am.

I haven’t been talking in my sleep lately. Possibly because I’m relatively calm in my life right now and possibly because the battery died on my tape recorder. I didn’t even bring it on this trip.

I’ll update when I can/if anything interesting happens.

Remember your nightmares

“You have to help me to remind you guys to keep remembering your nightmares”.

Who is ready for this?!

Remember the first post I ever made? Where I said that maybe I’d record myself talking in my sleep and blog about it? Of course you do. You remember all of my blog posts.

I have done it. I have gotten a tape recorder, I have figured out how to use it, I have slept, and now here is the result.

It was so strange to listen to myself on tape. I’ve known I say and do crazy things in my sleep, but I’ve never actually heard it for real. It was like the unveiling of a mystery. And under the veil was something extremely stupid.

And now, with no further ado, here is what I said in my sleep last night:

*A loud gasp* Oh, oh, oh what is it, what is it, what is it? *A reassured sigh, goes back to sleep*

And then later:

“Turns from a blob of raw meat into a blob of…pasta. (Then, very quietly) Yummy.”

It is probably obvious to everyone that I’m having a really hard time getting blog posts written. I’ve done a grand total of 1 since I’ve been home. This is partly because my blog is based on my life in Spain, and (hallelujah) I am not there anymore. (Fra, I will say again, you are one of the only things I miss).

I have become a big ball of laziness since I’ve been home, and today in particular, I fell into a well of self-pity. Instead of going to work, I went to Dad’s house and pet the cat that lives under the porch, watched Mona Lisa Smile, and cried. It was weird, because it wasn’t that crippling feeling you sometimes get where you can’t move or do anything except cry and feel awful. I just felt totally sad and stupid and, I don’t know, double stupid.

First, Lisa’s daughter and her 5-year-old demon are moving into my dad’s house within a month. That bomb was dropped Friday night at dinner. It is a thorn in my side, but mostly all the shit that could hit the fan in that arena of my life already has, so this is just a small splattering. I just won’t really be able to go to my old house anymore. Actually, this is probably a thing that will really upset me when it actually happens.

Second, my mom is driving me slowly, quietly insane in a way I can’t really put my finger on. It occurred to me today that now is the time to start looking for a job and hopefully move out. Does anybody want a roommate?

Third, Steve and I had a discussion last night about how we should probably slow down. This is the thing that makes me feel outrageously stupid and embarrassed, because I let my heart and daydreams get ahead of my head. I mistook relative comfort with a person for safety and commitment. But he is not ready to commit. He needs to know me better. Which is smart. I have the history of going into relationships somewhat blindly simply hoping it will work. (But there is also an element of blindness when you enter any relationship. You can’t know everything. But admittedly we know very little.) Also, he thought I was a year older than him and seemed genuinely disappointed when I wasn’t. I was like “fuck you”. Because I am smart for my age. 28-year-old people like to hang out with me.

So I am now terrified of rejection. I got so caught up in being happy about something maybe beginning that I forgot to be scared. Now I am scared again. As Brenna said “everything is perfect. What if the one thing that isn’t perfect is that there isn’t chemistry between you two?” That is freaky. I don’t want that to happen. BUT if it does, if this doesn’t work out, I am left being me. And I am pretty content with myself in general, so just being me, myself, and I is not a bad deal. If this doesn’t work out, I think it will just be a short, sharp pain, and nothing more.

Francesca, I know you want a post!

I cannot gather all of my thoughts into sentences that make sense. But I will try.

Fra, I saw mozzarella en carrozza at a deli here and I had to try it. It was not good. I will make it for real someday for all my friends.

I have been emailing with the girl who will be the auxiliar at my school next year. She’s from Washington state, way on the other side of the country. She says her level of Spanish is pretty good, enough to have a conversation. She also said she has studied some Portuguese so she is “not worried at all about Gallego”. The phrase struck me as arrogant, but I will forgive her. She has no idea what is coming for her. Or, maybe, she will do great and understand everything perfectly. I do hope that for her. It would make her life much, much easier.

I still miss everyone I loved over in Spain. Especially when I’m at home alone at night. I get sad. And when I want to say some silly joke we had, like “que aprovoite”, which no one here would understand because why would they?

So basically I just love two sets of people, one in the US and one in Europe, which means I can never be with everyone I love all at once. But who can ever be with everyone they love, unless the only people they love are on their bowling team or something.

Ok, the blog juices are going. Maybe I can update more frequently and talk about what it’s like re-settling in. Because I know the entire internet is holding their breath waiting to know.