Lots of good things are going on in my life right now. Until I stopped to take a break I was sitting all morning making note cards so I can memorize airport codes for my entrance exam into flight attendant training. After a long time waiting I am one step closer to having a real job that meets my requirements - has flight benefits. I'm supposed to start training on July 6 and finish July 25. Unless I do something really stupid I should be fine, right?
I also got another job the same day they called (Tuesday) at a golf course restaurant near here (Arbor Springs). I'm working there Saturday night. We'll see how that goes. I didn't ever want to wait tables again but this place is really small and low key but still expensive enough that I should make good money without a lot of craziness.
I also went yesterday with Amie to reserve an apartment to move in August 1. It'd be great to move in sooner but right now I'm pretty much broke and wont' be making enough money any time soon. Also, when I start training I have to sign something that says I'm willing to relocate to Salt Lake City. I don't think I will have to but there is still the possibility and I don't want to sign a lease until I'm sure I'll be here in Atlanta.
I'm really tired right now but trying to be a mature, productive person and not sleep half the day away. I went to see Mercury Drop last night in the highlands and it was a great show. Have met some surprisingly nice girls and am happy to be expanding my circle of friends. Irina rocks my face off :-).
I think I may be losing my mind. On Tuesday I went almost the entire day with my underwear on backwards.. haha. It at least made my boring evening a little funnier. Then last night at supper I was talking to my mom and without even realizing it I poured ranch dressing onto my fruit salad. I used to say that ranch goes on anything but that's pretty much not true.. Oh well.
My wrist starts to hurt whenever I type for a while.. Probably not such a good thing. Should figure out why. I need to go make more notecards and start memorizing all this stuff..
Friday, June 24, 2005
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Solo Shopping in Madrid
Living in Madrid, I spent a great deal of time alone. I didn’t know the language, had only just met the lady I was living with, and had yet to make any friends. Being such a Spanish city, Madrid originally intimidated and frustrated me. I eventually learned to love and appreciate this quality about the city, as I grew more comfortable with the Spanish people, their language, and their way of life. Until this happened, though, all of these factors combined to make some very depressed days, and being a true American woman I did what American women do when they’re depressed – I went shopping.
The first time I ever went into H&M I was so intimidated. H&M is Europe’s version of Target probably. Very cute clothes but still very affordable. Because of the Spanish siesta the shops were all but empty until about 5pm. Since I worked until 4 I usually got to the shops just as every other Madrileño did. Back home I despise shopping in crowds. I hate waiting in lines and pushing through tons of people. Shopping is stressful enough without adding several thousand people getting in my way. In Madrid, though, I learned to appreciate the cover that all the people provided. European shopkeepers are more inclined than their American counterparts to leave the customer to browse in peace, but there was always the chance that if I was caught alone in a store someone might ask me something and this terrified me. They would probably only ask how I was or if I was finding everything I needed, but since I didn’t know what they were saying I avoided these exchanges like the plague. Crowds of shoppers allowed me to inspect all the crazy European styles at my own pace, try to figure out if I wore a 28, 36, or 44 (not waist), and hopefully be ignored. This worked until I got in H&M’s dressing room line. By the time I had picked out what I wanted to try the line was halfway down the aisle so I got to stand in line and listen to the conversations around me. To stand in line, or walk down a crowded street in a country where I don’t know the language, I experienced a feeling I’d never had before. It was the feeling of being surrounded by life and people and to still be so very alone. I saw mothers and daughters, couples, and young girls all laughing and talking, as well as other people that were alone but deep in conversation on their mobiles. I felt so separate from all of these people because I was standing there with them, doing the same thing they were doing, but had no idea what was going on around me. It made me realize how much companionship is derived from our eavesdropped conversations and casual greetings with strangers. Until you have experienced this you will take for granted how many times you exchanged knowing smiles with a stranger over a conversation you both overheard. It makes you conscious of how much one smile could mean to a stranger.
As I finally made it to the front of the line at the dressing room I noticed that the girl would ask how many items you were bringing in. I counted mine over and over and made sure I had the right number, praying the whole time she didn’t decide to ask me anything different. I made it through this, probably mispronouncing siete, and feeling like I had AMERICAN stamped all over me. On the way out of the dressing room she stopped me and asked me something. I had no idea what it was but finally after a bit of sign language I figured out she was asking if she could take any of my stuff. Next I spent at least twenty minutes at the checkout counter while the salesgirl tried to explain to me that I needed to show ID to make a purchase with my credit card. I didn’t have it with me since I hadn’t been asked for it anywhere else but wasn’t about to leave the store, after going through all that, without buying anything. Each of these incidences continued to fluster and intimidate me. I felt bad for being in these people’s country and not understanding what they were saying. I do enjoy the fact that English is such a widely spoken language but I don’t expect or assume that everyone will speak or understand it. I usually found someone to help me out but always felt bad for causing a scene or making others wait while we did sign language.
One of my most unforgettable shopping experiences was on a hot June day. I had been in Madrid for about a month and a half and was growing accustomed to Spanish life. I was less intimidated by the salespeople and more familiar with the stores. I found an adorable strapless shirt. It was light blue with tiny white polka dots all over it. After spending nearly every day in the Spanish sun I had a tan that I was proud of and was learning to love their style of dress. Spanish people dress beautifully and slowly but surely I was hoping to learn their ways. They wear colors, combinations of colors, and accessories that you would never see in a GAP/Abercrombie & Fitch/American Eagle USA. I took the shirt and went into the dressing room. It was made of stiff fabric with a zipper on the side that went from the waist up to about an inch from the top of the shirt under your arm. I took my shirt and bra off and pulled the shirt over my head and shoulders and around my chest. It was a bit of a struggle but being a small-breasted woman I have learned that in order to wear strapless shirts they have to be pretty small so they don’t fall down. I guess I underestimated the size of my ribcage this time though. I could barely breath with the shirt on and went to pull it back over my head. For the next few minutes I tried different breathing methods, trying to relax my ribs and shoulders enough to get the shirt back over my head. The strength that pulling the shirt off required made my shoulders flex just enough to keep my shirt stuck on me.
Nothing I tried was working. I started to panic. I didn’t know what to do. I could hear the girls on either side of me laughing in their dressing rooms with their friends. Girls came in, tried on their clothes, and left many times all around me while I struggled with my shirt. I would’ve given everything I had right then to have one of my friends in there to help me. I thought about going for help but the dressing rooms in this particular store were actually curtained-in cubicles along the wall out on the sales floor. This ruled out the option of discreetly calling to the dressing room attending (assuming she understood English). I could just see the crazy, half naked American girl running around the store with only her shirt stuck under her armpits, crying, in English, for someone to help her. Being topless may be acceptable in Spain but there wasn’t a beach or pool within miles, and I hadn’t accepted all of their ways yet. I suppose if it had come to that anyone would’ve been able to tell what the problem was regardless of what language I spoke. My options were dwindling so I decided that the 18 euros I’d have to pay for the shirt would be worth ripping it off my body as long as I could be free. Evidently their clothes are very well made cause I couldn’t even manage to loosen the seams. After what seemed like hours I managed to stop breathing, collapse my ribs, and contort my shoulders while pulling this shirt straight up over my head. Never has a shirt been the object of such anger and hostility as that one as I threw it on the floor. I told it that I didn’t care if it was the best shirt in the world and they paid me to wear it, I never wanted to see it again. I have to confess that I didn’t hang it neatly back on the hanger like a polite shopper. At this point feelings of depression had never been further from my mind (see, shopping really is good therapy.) I put my own, lovely, well fitting, bra and shirt back on and left the store as fast as I could. It was a long time before I went back into that store. When I did return I avoided all their strapless shirts. If avoidance was impossible I would give them all of my best dirty looks. I think I can say without a doubt that no other inanimate object has caused me as much grief and pain as that lovely, stupid, horrid, light blue polka dotted strapless shirt. I’m sure it looked beautiful on some thin-shouldered Spanish girl.
Thankfully not all my shopping experiences were as traumatic as that one. I learned that salespeople don’t bite, and that there were thousands of other English speakers in Madrid who were much more obnoxious and stupid than I was. As in any country, the Madrileños appreciate an effort at their language and are more than happy to meet you halfway language-wise as long as you are trying. Re-living my shirt emergency has worn me out again. I haven’t even touched on food shopping, which is a whole other circus, but I’ll leave you for now with Grace’s Important Travel Tip #7: When shopping alone, be sure to err on the large side because if it’s a struggle to get on, it will be many more times as difficult trying to get it off. OR, carry large scissors at all times.
The first time I ever went into H&M I was so intimidated. H&M is Europe’s version of Target probably. Very cute clothes but still very affordable. Because of the Spanish siesta the shops were all but empty until about 5pm. Since I worked until 4 I usually got to the shops just as every other Madrileño did. Back home I despise shopping in crowds. I hate waiting in lines and pushing through tons of people. Shopping is stressful enough without adding several thousand people getting in my way. In Madrid, though, I learned to appreciate the cover that all the people provided. European shopkeepers are more inclined than their American counterparts to leave the customer to browse in peace, but there was always the chance that if I was caught alone in a store someone might ask me something and this terrified me. They would probably only ask how I was or if I was finding everything I needed, but since I didn’t know what they were saying I avoided these exchanges like the plague. Crowds of shoppers allowed me to inspect all the crazy European styles at my own pace, try to figure out if I wore a 28, 36, or 44 (not waist), and hopefully be ignored. This worked until I got in H&M’s dressing room line. By the time I had picked out what I wanted to try the line was halfway down the aisle so I got to stand in line and listen to the conversations around me. To stand in line, or walk down a crowded street in a country where I don’t know the language, I experienced a feeling I’d never had before. It was the feeling of being surrounded by life and people and to still be so very alone. I saw mothers and daughters, couples, and young girls all laughing and talking, as well as other people that were alone but deep in conversation on their mobiles. I felt so separate from all of these people because I was standing there with them, doing the same thing they were doing, but had no idea what was going on around me. It made me realize how much companionship is derived from our eavesdropped conversations and casual greetings with strangers. Until you have experienced this you will take for granted how many times you exchanged knowing smiles with a stranger over a conversation you both overheard. It makes you conscious of how much one smile could mean to a stranger.
As I finally made it to the front of the line at the dressing room I noticed that the girl would ask how many items you were bringing in. I counted mine over and over and made sure I had the right number, praying the whole time she didn’t decide to ask me anything different. I made it through this, probably mispronouncing siete, and feeling like I had AMERICAN stamped all over me. On the way out of the dressing room she stopped me and asked me something. I had no idea what it was but finally after a bit of sign language I figured out she was asking if she could take any of my stuff. Next I spent at least twenty minutes at the checkout counter while the salesgirl tried to explain to me that I needed to show ID to make a purchase with my credit card. I didn’t have it with me since I hadn’t been asked for it anywhere else but wasn’t about to leave the store, after going through all that, without buying anything. Each of these incidences continued to fluster and intimidate me. I felt bad for being in these people’s country and not understanding what they were saying. I do enjoy the fact that English is such a widely spoken language but I don’t expect or assume that everyone will speak or understand it. I usually found someone to help me out but always felt bad for causing a scene or making others wait while we did sign language.
One of my most unforgettable shopping experiences was on a hot June day. I had been in Madrid for about a month and a half and was growing accustomed to Spanish life. I was less intimidated by the salespeople and more familiar with the stores. I found an adorable strapless shirt. It was light blue with tiny white polka dots all over it. After spending nearly every day in the Spanish sun I had a tan that I was proud of and was learning to love their style of dress. Spanish people dress beautifully and slowly but surely I was hoping to learn their ways. They wear colors, combinations of colors, and accessories that you would never see in a GAP/Abercrombie & Fitch/American Eagle USA. I took the shirt and went into the dressing room. It was made of stiff fabric with a zipper on the side that went from the waist up to about an inch from the top of the shirt under your arm. I took my shirt and bra off and pulled the shirt over my head and shoulders and around my chest. It was a bit of a struggle but being a small-breasted woman I have learned that in order to wear strapless shirts they have to be pretty small so they don’t fall down. I guess I underestimated the size of my ribcage this time though. I could barely breath with the shirt on and went to pull it back over my head. For the next few minutes I tried different breathing methods, trying to relax my ribs and shoulders enough to get the shirt back over my head. The strength that pulling the shirt off required made my shoulders flex just enough to keep my shirt stuck on me.
Nothing I tried was working. I started to panic. I didn’t know what to do. I could hear the girls on either side of me laughing in their dressing rooms with their friends. Girls came in, tried on their clothes, and left many times all around me while I struggled with my shirt. I would’ve given everything I had right then to have one of my friends in there to help me. I thought about going for help but the dressing rooms in this particular store were actually curtained-in cubicles along the wall out on the sales floor. This ruled out the option of discreetly calling to the dressing room attending (assuming she understood English). I could just see the crazy, half naked American girl running around the store with only her shirt stuck under her armpits, crying, in English, for someone to help her. Being topless may be acceptable in Spain but there wasn’t a beach or pool within miles, and I hadn’t accepted all of their ways yet. I suppose if it had come to that anyone would’ve been able to tell what the problem was regardless of what language I spoke. My options were dwindling so I decided that the 18 euros I’d have to pay for the shirt would be worth ripping it off my body as long as I could be free. Evidently their clothes are very well made cause I couldn’t even manage to loosen the seams. After what seemed like hours I managed to stop breathing, collapse my ribs, and contort my shoulders while pulling this shirt straight up over my head. Never has a shirt been the object of such anger and hostility as that one as I threw it on the floor. I told it that I didn’t care if it was the best shirt in the world and they paid me to wear it, I never wanted to see it again. I have to confess that I didn’t hang it neatly back on the hanger like a polite shopper. At this point feelings of depression had never been further from my mind (see, shopping really is good therapy.) I put my own, lovely, well fitting, bra and shirt back on and left the store as fast as I could. It was a long time before I went back into that store. When I did return I avoided all their strapless shirts. If avoidance was impossible I would give them all of my best dirty looks. I think I can say without a doubt that no other inanimate object has caused me as much grief and pain as that lovely, stupid, horrid, light blue polka dotted strapless shirt. I’m sure it looked beautiful on some thin-shouldered Spanish girl.
Thankfully not all my shopping experiences were as traumatic as that one. I learned that salespeople don’t bite, and that there were thousands of other English speakers in Madrid who were much more obnoxious and stupid than I was. As in any country, the Madrileños appreciate an effort at their language and are more than happy to meet you halfway language-wise as long as you are trying. Re-living my shirt emergency has worn me out again. I haven’t even touched on food shopping, which is a whole other circus, but I’ll leave you for now with Grace’s Important Travel Tip #7: When shopping alone, be sure to err on the large side because if it’s a struggle to get on, it will be many more times as difficult trying to get it off. OR, carry large scissors at all times.
lazy Sunday afternoon
My dad, mom, Joy and Peter just left to take Joy up to a volleyball camp at the Bryan College where hopefully she will be attending and playing in the fall. Michal and I are sitting at home taking full advantage of the opportunity to do whatever we feel like. She's reading a book like a good little Holby and I'm putting off doing laundry.
Weather in Georgia is pretty fickle. About 30 minutes ago it was pouring and now the sun is out again. I guess that is one of the things I kind of like about Georgia though. I could do without the humidity but other than that it's alright. I'm definitely not sugar so a little rain isn't going to hurt me.
This weekend has been pretty chilled out. I got together with some friends that I've known since I was 12 that were in town this weekend. Always nice to see them. Crazy when people that I knew before they hit puberty are having kids. Rather them than me.
I'm not sure how much I like this blog forum. I feel like I have to censor it too much. Sometimes it's hard to forget anyone might read this and just write what I feel like writing... Oh well. I need to start writing more. I keep saying I"m going to write down everything I remember from my Europe trip last year but I still haven't. It's another one of those things where I don't think I want everyone to know everything I remember, but at the same time I do want it recorded cause I know I'll forget it eventually. Should get a move on it since it's getting to be over a year since a lot of it happened.
I remember when I was in 6th grade and my older sister, Christine, graduated from highschool. I used to get so sad just at the thought of her leaving (we went to the same school). Now, 12 years later, it's really hitting me that Joy is going to leave in the fall to go to college and it really makes me sad. I'm excited for her and all but I guess it just makes me realize that things are constantly changing. I don't want to hold on to the past and I can't wait to see what she does in her life but it's still a little sad to know that my little sister is my adult little sister now. She's going to be the next queen of the world though. I can feel it. She's awesome.
I seem to be getting sleepy. The espresso I had at 10:30 last night was a really bad idea. I was still wide awake at 2:30 this morning twitching my foot under the sheets. I hate that.
Weather in Georgia is pretty fickle. About 30 minutes ago it was pouring and now the sun is out again. I guess that is one of the things I kind of like about Georgia though. I could do without the humidity but other than that it's alright. I'm definitely not sugar so a little rain isn't going to hurt me.
This weekend has been pretty chilled out. I got together with some friends that I've known since I was 12 that were in town this weekend. Always nice to see them. Crazy when people that I knew before they hit puberty are having kids. Rather them than me.
I'm not sure how much I like this blog forum. I feel like I have to censor it too much. Sometimes it's hard to forget anyone might read this and just write what I feel like writing... Oh well. I need to start writing more. I keep saying I"m going to write down everything I remember from my Europe trip last year but I still haven't. It's another one of those things where I don't think I want everyone to know everything I remember, but at the same time I do want it recorded cause I know I'll forget it eventually. Should get a move on it since it's getting to be over a year since a lot of it happened.
I remember when I was in 6th grade and my older sister, Christine, graduated from highschool. I used to get so sad just at the thought of her leaving (we went to the same school). Now, 12 years later, it's really hitting me that Joy is going to leave in the fall to go to college and it really makes me sad. I'm excited for her and all but I guess it just makes me realize that things are constantly changing. I don't want to hold on to the past and I can't wait to see what she does in her life but it's still a little sad to know that my little sister is my adult little sister now. She's going to be the next queen of the world though. I can feel it. She's awesome.
I seem to be getting sleepy. The espresso I had at 10:30 last night was a really bad idea. I was still wide awake at 2:30 this morning twitching my foot under the sheets. I hate that.
Thursday, June 9, 2005
I was sitting, waiting, wishing...
the UPS guy would get here with my new phone. They tell you that you have to sign for it so basically I'm tied to my house until they decide to deliver it. I did have a productive day of washing and cleaning out my car. I think I got a tan in the process too. I figure I need to get sun while I can before I get a job and don't see the light of day for another few months. Besides tan fat looks better than white fat right?
My house is really quiet which is nice. Well, that is, except for our cat who is acting super crazy and crawls around all day making funny noises. It scares me cause I find myself talking to her. I tell her "I don't know what is wrong with you or what to do about it. You don't like me other times so why do you want to pester me now? You know we aren't friends so bugger off..." Nothing seems to work. So now I've shut her in my parent's room. She'll live. There are some really pretty yellow birds on the bird feeder out the window. My dad loves birds and birdfeeders so there is one at practically every window on our house it seems.
I obviously have nothing interesting to talk about. I had my interview yesterday and it went well I think. They finger-printed me and made me pee in a cup so they must want me. Gotta wait til they get my background check. Hopefully they won't mind those four murders I committed when I was 12. It's more than 10 years ago so they really shouldn't care.
Still hating the UPS man... I want Jack Johnson's albums. When he sings it makes me want to bite him.
My house is really quiet which is nice. Well, that is, except for our cat who is acting super crazy and crawls around all day making funny noises. It scares me cause I find myself talking to her. I tell her "I don't know what is wrong with you or what to do about it. You don't like me other times so why do you want to pester me now? You know we aren't friends so bugger off..." Nothing seems to work. So now I've shut her in my parent's room. She'll live. There are some really pretty yellow birds on the bird feeder out the window. My dad loves birds and birdfeeders so there is one at practically every window on our house it seems.
I obviously have nothing interesting to talk about. I had my interview yesterday and it went well I think. They finger-printed me and made me pee in a cup so they must want me. Gotta wait til they get my background check. Hopefully they won't mind those four murders I committed when I was 12. It's more than 10 years ago so they really shouldn't care.
Still hating the UPS man... I want Jack Johnson's albums. When he sings it makes me want to bite him.
Tuesday, June 7, 2005
queen of the world..
You can tell I'm feeling good because all I can think of today is that I'm the queen of the world. I guess life requires the downs so we really feel the ups when they finally do come..
It's crazy to think how different my life is right now than it was a year ago. Last year around this time I was living in Madrid, Spain. I was part miserable and part, yes, queen of the world. My journal from this part of my stay there was stolen so I can't exactly what I was doing on this very day but up to this point I had seen the Real Madrid play (Beckham was benched cause of a redcard), gone to a bull fight, spent time wandering Madrid alone and with good friends I had made, gotten my nose pierced, gone dancing, layed in the park, and eaten crazy tapas.. to name a few things. Now that I think about it, I was probably on the metro on my way home from Spanish class. I paid exorbitant amounts of money for internet access and was so lonely I would talk to anyone who I even thought spoke English.. Good times. But there were really good times.
And now... tomorrow morning I'm going for my second interview with ASA Delta Connection to be a flight attendant. Everyone says if they called me for the second interview I'm in. We'll see. I still have to make it through training. I'm still sharing a room with my now 12 year old sister at my parents house but Lord willing that will change in another month. I did upgrade/downgrade to a mattress on the floor instead of the bottom bunk. Sleeping on the floor may not sound great but at least I don't have to worry about smashing my head.
So life is good. I finished teaching last week. Got another one of my friends married off last weekend. Am chipping away at my credit card bills and will hopefully have a real job in the next few weeks. I have to run over to Tanya's to see if she has a skirt I can borrow for the interview tomorrow. I'm not used to going anywhere that I can't wear flipflops so this is all crazy weird for me.
My cell phone has decided that 3 months was too long for it to function properly so I can't see the screen now. Therefore I can't access my address book... THEREFORE.. send me a message and give me your number(s) again if you want me to have it.
It's crazy to think how different my life is right now than it was a year ago. Last year around this time I was living in Madrid, Spain. I was part miserable and part, yes, queen of the world. My journal from this part of my stay there was stolen so I can't exactly what I was doing on this very day but up to this point I had seen the Real Madrid play (Beckham was benched cause of a redcard), gone to a bull fight, spent time wandering Madrid alone and with good friends I had made, gotten my nose pierced, gone dancing, layed in the park, and eaten crazy tapas.. to name a few things. Now that I think about it, I was probably on the metro on my way home from Spanish class. I paid exorbitant amounts of money for internet access and was so lonely I would talk to anyone who I even thought spoke English.. Good times. But there were really good times.
And now... tomorrow morning I'm going for my second interview with ASA Delta Connection to be a flight attendant. Everyone says if they called me for the second interview I'm in. We'll see. I still have to make it through training. I'm still sharing a room with my now 12 year old sister at my parents house but Lord willing that will change in another month. I did upgrade/downgrade to a mattress on the floor instead of the bottom bunk. Sleeping on the floor may not sound great but at least I don't have to worry about smashing my head.
So life is good. I finished teaching last week. Got another one of my friends married off last weekend. Am chipping away at my credit card bills and will hopefully have a real job in the next few weeks. I have to run over to Tanya's to see if she has a skirt I can borrow for the interview tomorrow. I'm not used to going anywhere that I can't wear flipflops so this is all crazy weird for me.
My cell phone has decided that 3 months was too long for it to function properly so I can't see the screen now. Therefore I can't access my address book... THEREFORE.. send me a message and give me your number(s) again if you want me to have it.
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