Acting Like We're Animals

Quick post here just to remember this moment-

My youngest host brother, Pablo, had a friend over last night / today. I'm in my room casually skyping Keith when my door flies open (Pablo likes to be my little buddy some days and hang out in my room with me, so I've learned if I don't want any unexpected visitors I need to lock my door). In walks Pablo and yells down the hall to his friend that is spending the night, "¡Mira! Aquí está la chica americana que vive con nosotros." He then shut my door and walked away. Translation: Look! Here's the amarican girl who lives with us.

I'm like an animal in the zoo. I'm on exhibit for all of these Spaniards to enjoy and laugh at. It's epic.

And then today when I woke up it was like WWIII in my house. I'm sleeping and wake up to screaming and doors slamming and (clearly) there is no hope of me sleeping any longer so I walk out of my room and there's children running and screaming and nerf guns all over the place and foam bullets flying and suction cup arrows and bows being shot and stuck to doors. They made me walk from my room to the living room with my hands up over my head "or-else they'd shoot me"...

Help xD

Must. Find. Food.

Just based on my grumbling stomach today I am so ready to go home.

What I would give for some normal breakfast food (and I hate breakfast) - I've literally had a small bowl of cereal, bread, an apple, a doughnut, or a croissant every day for the last 7 months. I'm ready for my cold pizza, pasta, ramen noodles, pancakes (that actually rise), and normal food.

And I want to eat at normal times. Lunch doesn't belong at 4pm and dinner doesn't belong at 10:30pm.

I hate going to sleep feeling full.

I hate meat.

I hate eating so much food for lunch I feel sick, yet feeling obligated to eat everything that gets piled onto my plate.

I'm sick of carbs. I want some veggies.

I miss snack foods like carrots and celery and cheese and crackers.

I'm sick of eating the snack food I get sent to me from home in one sitting.

I want to make my own food. I want to know how to use the stove without burning the crap out of things. I wish I knew how to work the oven without it streaming black smoke every time I try.

I want to do my laundry when I want and need to.

I hate wearing the same pair of jeans for a week.

I miss my cloud bed and not waking up every day with my back hurting.

I miss my feet not constantly being blistered and cut up from my shoes and so much walking.

I want my car.

I miss my family and Keith.

I'm sick of 10 year old kids laughing at me trying to tell stories then responding to me in English.

Yeah...well that went downhill quickly.

88 days left to go.

The Evolution Of Taylor Swift

I've been attempting to write a poem about a bar for the last 3 hours - I've got about 8 lines... Only in Spain am I assigned a poem about a bar...

Anyways-

In this time that I've been procrastinating and trying to make my limited Spanish vocabulary rhyme and talk about my limited Spanish bar experiences, I've been watching Taylor Swift's entire music video playlist on YouTube.

For everyone who doesn't know, I'm kinda in love with her. She's my favorite singer and just like any other girl growing up with her, the songs she writes are a direct correlation to my life.

So when Red came out this fall, there was a very clear change in her style. It took me quite a few times of sitting through the whole album to decide if I liked it or not, but in the end I do. Just like any other artist that got their start in their teens, she's making that awkward switch of style to grow with her. (Mind you, I still don't understand why there were ever 3 and 4 year olds at her concerts...)

And what's the whole point of me typing all this? I'm not really sure to be honest.

I just saw the music video for "I knew you were trouble" and it was good - really good. Strong message and bigger themes than her past CDs. And the video for "Begin Again" was filmed in Paris - a place that will forever be close to my heart.

Again, all these things sound better in my head than written, but there's meaning in them for me.

A line that says, "The worst part of it all wasn't losing him, it was losing me." - there's meaning. And regardless if it means anything to anyone else, I feel like I should write this so I don't forget that.

The Art Of Pizza Delivery

I don't think I'll ever get over the pizza delivery here - it's just one of those random things that amazes me every time.

Here's the rundown...

• Pizza guys drive vespa looking things, not cars
• They wear these neon orange outfits that remind me of the safety snowsuits people wear when traveling on the ice in the winter
• Because everyone lives in apartments, you have to buzz the poor guy up at least 4 times for him to actually deliver the pizza
• A tip consists of 1 coin

So I guess in the big scheme of things, it's not that crazy but I just laugh. I guess now that I'm writing this it's more of a "you had to be there" type thing, but whatever. 

On that note, the barbacoa pizza is calling and if I don't jump now my host brothers will engulf (I don't know if that's the right word) it all before I get any.

Coming Home List Number One

In honor of being down to 100 days,

Let's see, for shits and giggles - the first things on my list of things to do when I get home...

1. Grandma Noodles - I'm expecting a big pot waiting for me upon arrival.
2. A Long Hot Shower - The kind where I sit there doing nothing until the hot water is gone.
3. Chipotle - Maybe the day after I get back. Chicken bowl, pinto beans, salsa, corn, lettuce, guacamole, cheese, sour cream, you know the works.
4. A Hair Cut - Don't know what style, but after a year with split ends and frizz it'll be time for some updates.
5. Shopping - I need a new wardrobe.
6. Baby Shower Stuff - The shower is 2 days after I get back, I'll be making diaper cakes galore.
7. Hugs and Snuggles - The love tank needs refilled.
8. Sleeping Forever and a Day - In my cloud.

Yeah, that's all I've got for now. I'm sure I'll add more.

And So Begins The Questioning

I'm at this point where I'm wondering if I'm doing the right thing being here. On one hand, I wouldn't be graduating if I hadn't done this, yet at the same time this could be the thing that keeps me from graduating.

I'm trying to not think about that second possibility because honestly it would crush me. But, realistically it is a possibility.

The hard part about being over here is there is no real support system. There are no tutors to ask if you need help. There are no extra office hours when you can talk to your professors. The onsite staff can't half with your school work. You get into this place where you are just stuck.

I've been working my ass off since this semester started, and even though I've been spending almost every waking hour doing something for school, I don't feel like I'm getting anything back.

Don't get me wrong, I've learned so much by being here that I never would have in the US, but I don't know if that "life knowledge" is worth worrying about my GPA and my relationships over.

I thought at home school was a big part of my life, but honestly what seems so easy here is so much harder. There aren't concrete answers and facts to memorize or systems to connect. I'm constantly in a world of ambiguity where things have more than one answer and each person could have their own interpretation, completely changing everything you think you know.

And then in the end it all comes down to the professor's opinion.

All in all, I go back to my original opinion. If I had the chance I would have done this in high school. Where the grades and your future career aren't on the line and you really do have the opportunity to be completely immersed in the culture and real life, versus this makeshift "college" atmosphere that in reality is like being in middle school all over again.

I go to class for 6 hours straight because my professors can't keep on time and then don't let you have a break to use the bathroom or eat a snack. If you're late, your grade drops. Yet, every single day the professors run over.

I hate being powerless and having the fate of my career be in the hands of the people here. I want to question and complain and try to make the situation better, but at the same time the person who I have to get involved with is the one controlling my grade for the next 4 months.

There's just no good way. At this point the only option I see is devoting absolutely every single minute I have to this and whatever the consequences are I have to try.

Best Host Mom Award

Friday night was my first night out in Madrid and it was interesting. We were all hanging out at Yvette's house, where some of the people in my group may have had a few too many bottles of wine. So from there we headed out to meet the rest of the people we were going with at a bar downtown. Well, we got to the bar and no sooner did we get there one of the girls decided that she was too drunk and needed to go home. So I volunteered to take her home. However, by the time we got a taxi, she didn't know where she lives (nor did I). So she ended up coming back to my apartment. It was quite the experience and somehow I always get stuck babysitting. But at 3 am when my host mom woke up and I explained everything that had went on, she was totally ok with everything. In the morning even drove this girl back to her own house and gave her a different pair of shoes (not 6 inch heels) to wear. My two best friends here have decided they want to meet my host mom after this lovely experience. I have to say, she is amazing and so understanding and I'm very glad I'm living with this family even though sometimes it can get hard having so many people in one space.

Never Sure If I Should Feel Bad

It's 9 am on Sunday morning and I just woke up. Javi and Pablo had some friends stay the night, so I can hear them awake and playing in the living room. I've gotten up and done my daily wakeup routine: bathroom, wash face, brush teeth. The door to my host parents room is closed but I can hear them awake talking. So I come back in my room and shut the door. The sun is just peaking through my persianas (if you've never been to Spain you won't have a clue what I'm talking about - they're like garage doors for your windows). All in all, my room is relatively quiet and relaxing and my bed looks amazing to just lay and chill for a little bit before running out into the hustle and bustle I call my life.

The problem?

Since this semester has started my life has been consumed by homework. Last semester was a complete joke I might add. I have no problem sitting out in the living room doing my homework when it's something like a worksheet or little activities to practice grammar, but right now almost everything I have is reading. And the problem with reading is that I can't have distractions or I will lose track of what I'm actually reading and start thinking of other things - then I find myself 2 pages through the book and realize I don't have a clue what just happened.

So I've been spending a lot of time held up in my room, for which I feel bad for. I don't want to give the impression that I'm ignoring them or something happened over vacation that made me not like them as much, it's just that I need the quiet and space of my room to get everything I have to do done.

Not to mention it's a hassle when I;m working on my laptop to take it out to the living room because it inevitably does die and it's so hard to lug around all of my converters and find space to plug everything in out there.

So there's the dilemma. I know they understand, but it's still kinda sad when Pablo asks my host mom why I never hang out with him anymore.