Back at school and all settled into the new place. I have my white walls nicely decorated with photos and it all makes for a nice environment.
My life recently has just been a jumble words from bland history texts, those which have most recently been focusing on the French Revolution. Apparently the French Revolution was the impetus to many major events in history and I've surely studied it thousands of times before, yet somehow I still manage not knowing a damn thing about it. Wonderful.
Other than the French Revoultion I've been and sorting out horrible logic problems in the name of bettering my LSAT score. It's 10:46pm and I want to get up at 6:30am tomorrow to run but I'm here blogging because I need my head to unravel a bit. It's still a bit tangled from the 4-hour long practice LSAT that I just took. That test was so difficult that it was demoralizing. The highlight of my test-taking experience came when I read a question whose argument reasoned that cows on farms should have mattresses to sleep on so that they are more comortable night and thus, will produce more milk. Thank you LSAT test makers, for giving me some comedic relief amongst all your pedantic balderdash.
Okay, my head really is spinning more now as I have to stare at this computer screen to write this. I apologize to the scarce reader that has read this post. It was written in a feeble state without the crutch of alcohol. Now having finished this entry of my recently inactive blog, you probably want a beer and I can't blame you. I want one too.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Thoughts of a moment (as per Friday night)
Not neglecting this blog. I promise.
LSAT prep tomorrow @ 10AM. Looks like my Saturday mornings for the next month and a half will be a jism of logic games and convoluted analogies.
So tired but too inspired.
Must sleep.
Sleep on the inspiration.
Let it seep into the desperation and fight off the isolation.
Sink into the somber of chipper staccato tunes
and bid them farwell,
those wretchedly forlorn afternoons.
Bryan, my stepbrother soon to be "ex-stepbrother" (now that term's an F'ed up mess if I ever heard of one) but really just my friend, is teaching in Arkanasas these days. He was passing through Illinois and stopped in Mahomet to have dinner with me. We went to a local restaurant, drank espresso afterward, shared poetry like the lit nerds that we are, and then he went on his way. It was so randomly awesome.
I had sushi for lunch with my mom. I LOVE sushi. And I love my mom.
"Sufrir es malo pero haber sufrido es bueno." -Basilio Losada*
* This man was my Art History professor in Spain. He didn't just know about art history though. He knew about life and women which were entirely separate entities according to him.
In terms of formal logic:
If Charles Bukowski, then the bomb.
If not the bomb, then not Charles Bukowski.
Thanks Uncle E, for introducing me to such an invigorating vulgarity!
Had a great day today!!
Here is a RIDICULOUS photo that I came across on Flickr. These guys paint with light, and here they painted Guernica.
Toodles!
LSAT prep tomorrow @ 10AM. Looks like my Saturday mornings for the next month and a half will be a jism of logic games and convoluted analogies.
So tired but too inspired.
Must sleep.
Sleep on the inspiration.
Let it seep into the desperation and fight off the isolation.
Sink into the somber of chipper staccato tunes
and bid them farwell,
those wretchedly forlorn afternoons.
Bryan, my stepbrother soon to be "ex-stepbrother" (now that term's an F'ed up mess if I ever heard of one) but really just my friend, is teaching in Arkanasas these days. He was passing through Illinois and stopped in Mahomet to have dinner with me. We went to a local restaurant, drank espresso afterward, shared poetry like the lit nerds that we are, and then he went on his way. It was so randomly awesome.
I had sushi for lunch with my mom. I LOVE sushi. And I love my mom.
"Sufrir es malo pero haber sufrido es bueno." -Basilio Losada*
* This man was my Art History professor in Spain. He didn't just know about art history though. He knew about life and women which were entirely separate entities according to him.
In terms of formal logic:
If Charles Bukowski, then the bomb.
If not the bomb, then not Charles Bukowski.
Thanks Uncle E, for introducing me to such an invigorating vulgarity!
Had a great day today!!
Here is a RIDICULOUS photo that I came across on Flickr. These guys paint with light, and here they painted Guernica.
Toodles!
Sunday, July 25, 2010
I'm just a guy with a guitar singing a song for you.
Meanwhile, I've been scratching my arm with a hairbrush as to avoid ruining my wet nails which are now a lovely shade of pale blue.
Photo credit on flickr.
I apologize, I cannot remember the user.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Jacob's poop candy and ice cream emperors
My dear friend Jacobo took the following photos.
I assure you he lives a very happy life and I am not dedicating this post to him because he has died. His burlesque photography deserves to be exposed to the masses. Maybe I should have tried twitter instead...
I assure you he lives a very happy life and I am not dedicating this post to him because he has died. His burlesque photography deserves to be exposed to the masses. Maybe I should have tried twitter instead...
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Because bad poetry is my calling
I'm sitting in this stuffy office,
a thick layer of sweat separates my clothes from my skin.
My eyelids are heavy with the sleep that I never got
while tunes of silent desperation
drone on in the background,
closing the gap between an ardently woeful past
and the immediately bleak future
where I'll have to step outside
into this pouring rain
only to be drenched by our "friend" Mother Nature.
This whole scenario just sounded like a horribly written poem to me.
So I decided to write it down.
a thick layer of sweat separates my clothes from my skin.
My eyelids are heavy with the sleep that I never got
while tunes of silent desperation
drone on in the background,
closing the gap between an ardently woeful past
and the immediately bleak future
where I'll have to step outside
into this pouring rain
only to be drenched by our "friend" Mother Nature.
This whole scenario just sounded like a horribly written poem to me.
So I decided to write it down.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Tell me about something that matters, or doesn't matter. Just don't talk about yourself so much.
Why does everyone and their mom want to blog about fashion these days? It's really tiring! Now, don't get me wrong. There are fashion blogs out there that do their thing, and do it well. I am fan of quite a few. See The Sartorialist and my girl, Jane, for example. And I do like fashion too, but I don't have so much self-importance to think that the world is dying to know what piece of cloth I use to cover my ass each day. Nor do I think that readers will make the extra effort log on the internet and access my blog to find out about it.
It's kind of like twitter. I mean, I am guilty of having a twitter. I have had it for years now actually. Before anyone knew about tweets, I made an account because I was curious to see what the hell it was. Now about three years later, I realize that it's largely a social network of people who aren't really doing that much with their lives so they feel the need to log online and tell the world everything that they're [not] doing. If you are truly busy, are you really going to log on to twitter to tell the world how busy you are? NO!
Anyway, I have a total of four updates on twitter, none of which are actually about my life. My tweets either consist of my commentaries on life (which are so profound that I NEED to share them with the world, thus twitter is my only option) or how horrible the weather is. Other than that, there are few aspects of my life that truly interest people, so I don't bother to telling them about it.
If people want to know a little bit more about my life, then they'll read my blog which is probably why I can count the amount of readers this blog attracts on my left hand. But that's okay! It doesn't matter because if I was blogging for attention, I wouldn't be able to talk about whatever I wanted. Instead I'd have to talk about things that interest other people which, in my experience, don't really interest me. And, it's a bore always trying to please other people.
But seriously,
WAKE UP WORLD and everyone listen (or at least the five of you that have made it to the bottom of this entry)...
People don't really give a shit. So when they lend you their ears for the obliged 10-15 minutes (only 5 of which they're actually listening), don't bore them by talking about things they could easily read in a magazine from someone who actually put research into the topic (depending on the magazine of course). Tell them about something more interesting like how your dog gets so excited to see you and your friends that she pisses herself at the sight of everyone. And if that doesn't work, you can always bitch about the weather.
It's kind of like twitter. I mean, I am guilty of having a twitter. I have had it for years now actually. Before anyone knew about tweets, I made an account because I was curious to see what the hell it was. Now about three years later, I realize that it's largely a social network of people who aren't really doing that much with their lives so they feel the need to log online and tell the world everything that they're [not] doing. If you are truly busy, are you really going to log on to twitter to tell the world how busy you are? NO!
Anyway, I have a total of four updates on twitter, none of which are actually about my life. My tweets either consist of my commentaries on life (which are so profound that I NEED to share them with the world, thus twitter is my only option) or how horrible the weather is. Other than that, there are few aspects of my life that truly interest people, so I don't bother to telling them about it.
If people want to know a little bit more about my life, then they'll read my blog which is probably why I can count the amount of readers this blog attracts on my left hand. But that's okay! It doesn't matter because if I was blogging for attention, I wouldn't be able to talk about whatever I wanted. Instead I'd have to talk about things that interest other people which, in my experience, don't really interest me. And, it's a bore always trying to please other people.
But seriously,
WAKE UP WORLD and everyone listen (or at least the five of you that have made it to the bottom of this entry)...
People don't really give a shit. So when they lend you their ears for the obliged 10-15 minutes (only 5 of which they're actually listening), don't bore them by talking about things they could easily read in a magazine from someone who actually put research into the topic (depending on the magazine of course). Tell them about something more interesting like how your dog gets so excited to see you and your friends that she pisses herself at the sight of everyone. And if that doesn't work, you can always bitch about the weather.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Dog Days of Summer
Wow it feels like I've done nothing this summer, yet I find myself not having any time. How does this happen?
I work at a nonprofit agency three days a week for four hours. In fact, I'm here right now, as you can see, working very hard. I have a lot of time to blog but have not had the motivation to do it.
Right now I'm listening to Catalan music on grooveshark.com whilst my personal statement for law school is open on Microsoft Word. Except I'm not really working on my personal statement either. I had every intention of coming here and battling through it, but I'm stuck...and to add to that I forgot my notes with all my "brainstorming possibilites." Normally I would continue to write anyway but I know what I want to say in the statement and I have it all written down on my "brainstorming possibilities sheet" (yes, the paper itself is labeled that) which, unfortunately, resides on my desk in my room most likely being toasted by one of my cats asses right now (they love to sit on my desk).
Seriously, the woes of trying to write well are, well, quite trying.
Thus, I decided to resort to some bad writing and post it on my blog. But whatever, bad writing and bad art, they all still come from the heart. It's just that bad writing is less excusable. I mean, it's not your fault that when you draw bunny rabbits they turn out as demented squirrels. This should not stop you from drawing if you like it so much. You draw those demented squirrels the best way you know how (at least that's what my mom always told me)! Bad writing, on the other hand, is just disgusting. No explanation needed.
Okay well wish me luck with my stagnant personal statement and very busy summer days!
Would anyone like to join me for a coffee? I could go for this cortado right about now...
I work at a nonprofit agency three days a week for four hours. In fact, I'm here right now, as you can see, working very hard. I have a lot of time to blog but have not had the motivation to do it.
Right now I'm listening to Catalan music on grooveshark.com whilst my personal statement for law school is open on Microsoft Word. Except I'm not really working on my personal statement either. I had every intention of coming here and battling through it, but I'm stuck...and to add to that I forgot my notes with all my "brainstorming possibilites." Normally I would continue to write anyway but I know what I want to say in the statement and I have it all written down on my "brainstorming possibilities sheet" (yes, the paper itself is labeled that) which, unfortunately, resides on my desk in my room most likely being toasted by one of my cats asses right now (they love to sit on my desk).
Seriously, the woes of trying to write well are, well, quite trying.
Thus, I decided to resort to some bad writing and post it on my blog. But whatever, bad writing and bad art, they all still come from the heart. It's just that bad writing is less excusable. I mean, it's not your fault that when you draw bunny rabbits they turn out as demented squirrels. This should not stop you from drawing if you like it so much. You draw those demented squirrels the best way you know how (at least that's what my mom always told me)! Bad writing, on the other hand, is just disgusting. No explanation needed.
Okay well wish me luck with my stagnant personal statement and very busy summer days!
Would anyone like to join me for a coffee? I could go for this cortado right about now...
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Poetry's not that important
I love poetry.
I wish I could be a more prolific poet.
A poet accustomed to producing beauty
as though it was a mechanic quality,
whose pen wields words
sharp like daggers
that, upon mere utterance,
slice through the paper
on which they are written.
But I'm not that poet.
I write poetry as it comes.
That is, I have to wait
patiently
for something
or someone
to light a fire under my ass
so big that it will continue to burn
unless I suffocate it with my pen.
I'm sure other poets have easier
and surely much safer ways
of gathering inspiration,
but I'm not about to sit on fires
looking for it.
I love poetry
but it's not that important.
No, instead I'll lavish in angst alone
without poetry's help,
extinguishing the inital flames
of small campfires
with distractions and smiles,
until the day when a fire
so monstruous and uncontrollable
fries me
and sizzles my ass
to the point of crispiness,
leaving third-degree burns
and permanent scarring.
Then I'll write the poem of my life.
I wish I could be a more prolific poet.
A poet accustomed to producing beauty
as though it was a mechanic quality,
whose pen wields words
sharp like daggers
that, upon mere utterance,
slice through the paper
on which they are written.
But I'm not that poet.
I write poetry as it comes.
That is, I have to wait
patiently
for something
or someone
to light a fire under my ass
so big that it will continue to burn
unless I suffocate it with my pen.
I'm sure other poets have easier
and surely much safer ways
of gathering inspiration,
but I'm not about to sit on fires
looking for it.
I love poetry
but it's not that important.
No, instead I'll lavish in angst alone
without poetry's help,
extinguishing the inital flames
of small campfires
with distractions and smiles,
until the day when a fire
so monstruous and uncontrollable
fries me
and sizzles my ass
to the point of crispiness,
leaving third-degree burns
and permanent scarring.
Then I'll write the poem of my life.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Photos from Vialis
My FAVORITE!!! (above)
Vialis is a brand straight up from Barcelona. All the trendy Barceloneses wear these shoes, but the price one must pay for the handworked Italian leather targets these beauties toward the bourgoisie, making them somewhat unobtainable for little peons like me.
At work today, while I was "working" and jamming to tunes on grooveshark.com, I stumbled upon Vialis' great blog. All the photos are from the blog and it's so fun to just drool over the great photography of pretty shoes.
Anywho, time for bed! I'm ready to get all cozy with my book Entre Amigas by Laura Freixas. I was so happy to encountar a copy of it at my university library after having no luck finding it in Barcelona (even though it's a Catalan author and takes place there). It's incredible the amount of books are in that place...
Okay really, I'm leaving.
I'm getting up early tomorrow morning so I can go out the breakfast with my parents. The restaurant we're going to has Irish coffee so I'll have a nice buzz when I go into work at 9am. I won't be drunk; that's just unprofessional. But it's my ode to being young.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Before Bed Post
Lately my life has been...
Sunny days of swimming with friends,
scattered cooking,
and incrementally increased running. (I've finally gotten to the point where I'm not dying anymore)
Working at my internship every week,
reading excerpts of random Spanish novels without committing myself to any one of them fully, dappling in the Epigrams of Oscar Wilde (which I sadly left in the office over the weekend but will happily reclaim tomorrow at 9am),
Reconnecting with friends and making new ones from old acquaintances.
Going with the new friends to your very first yoga class,
liking it,
and coming home afterward to eat nine-thirty stir fry dinners while listening to Joni Mitchell on vinyl...Repeatedly.
"His eyes were the colors of the sand and the sea, and the more he talked to me the more he reached to me."
Yes, that means flipping the side every 20 minutes and bumping the needle slightly inward to skip over that one place where the record always repeats itself.
Sometimes only a little bump is needed.
Thinking of bringing out the old-school manual Canon cameras that I have. It takes me forever to go through one roll of film, but how I enjoy my Canons so...
Okay, time for bed. I want to hit the trails to run tomorrow by 6:30a before work. But, before I leave I want to share with you these photos that I really love of Picasso and one of his lover Francoise. She is so beautiful and Picasso has the most incredibly piercing eyes I've seen. I bet receiving one look from him is enough to feel violated, like they were probing your soul or something.
Toodles!
Sunny days of swimming with friends,
scattered cooking,
and incrementally increased running. (I've finally gotten to the point where I'm not dying anymore)
Working at my internship every week,
reading excerpts of random Spanish novels without committing myself to any one of them fully, dappling in the Epigrams of Oscar Wilde (which I sadly left in the office over the weekend but will happily reclaim tomorrow at 9am),
Reconnecting with friends and making new ones from old acquaintances.
Going with the new friends to your very first yoga class,
liking it,
and coming home afterward to eat nine-thirty stir fry dinners while listening to Joni Mitchell on vinyl...Repeatedly.
"His eyes were the colors of the sand and the sea, and the more he talked to me the more he reached to me."
Yes, that means flipping the side every 20 minutes and bumping the needle slightly inward to skip over that one place where the record always repeats itself.
Sometimes only a little bump is needed.
Thinking of bringing out the old-school manual Canon cameras that I have. It takes me forever to go through one roll of film, but how I enjoy my Canons so...
Okay, time for bed. I want to hit the trails to run tomorrow by 6:30a before work. But, before I leave I want to share with you these photos that I really love of Picasso and one of his lover Francoise. She is so beautiful and Picasso has the most incredibly piercing eyes I've seen. I bet receiving one look from him is enough to feel violated, like they were probing your soul or something.
Toodles!
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Vignettes worth sharing
Okay so I had been planning to make this post for awhile when I was still in Barcelona but as time was flying by so quickly I didn't want to waste my last precious moments in front of a computer screen in my dark interior room. Anywho, here are some of my favorite images from my 9-month Spanish existence that you may or may not have seen. They are personal images and not necessarily the best photographic work of art you've ever seen, they are all, however, very dear to my heart.
These are three of the older girls that I taught. The family whose house in which we held the lessons (yes they actually had a HOUSE in Barcelona) had this adorable patio outside. On the last day that I taught them, the father of one of the girls moved the table outside so we could enjoy the beautiful day while we were learning English.
And the little ones I taught...
Europeans have stereotypical views of American culture because of all the American movies. Well, sitting in pretty plazas with blooming flowers and motos is basically my idealistic view of all of Europe, or at least Spain. This lovely was taken in Granada.
Taken in Madrid, I love this image because to me it perfectly characterizes what Almodóvar calls the "movimiento madrileño." Madrid, and much of Spain really, is a life of partying and well, just general physical movement--metro, walking, bars, discotecas, one place, another place, acquaintances made for a night until it's time to move on to the next day. The night that I took this photo I was actually leaving a bar with some of my friends and we temporarily stopped to decide on where we should go next. Thus, this photo is a brief pause in that movement, "el movimiento madrileño," stopping only just long enough to ask the question, "Do you want to sleep with me?"
Prof. Losada and his purrón!
In Valencia, we were on our way back to the bus from Las Fallas back in February. The photo was taken by José around 4am when were all so dead tired. Nonetheless, it makes me smile.
Spending time with Ems in Barcelona was priceless. Wouldn't have traded it for anything.
Always liked this picture I took of my friend Anca. We were on an excursion and wandered into this gift shop that sold these little windchime/curtain things. I took one look at that thing and told her, "Oh my gosh, it's a gigantic Anca earring!" Thus, Anca posed with her earring, rightfully so.
FAVE cathedral in Barcelona. Prototypically gothic and beautiful. Santa María del Mar. Definitely would come to this cathedral to just to sit down in the pews for awhile and enjoy the unique smell of the interior.
Alcove in Montserrat.
Picture of my Mama in the gardens behind the University of Barcelona. So beautiful, both the woman and the historic building.
These are three of the older girls that I taught. The family whose house in which we held the lessons (yes they actually had a HOUSE in Barcelona) had this adorable patio outside. On the last day that I taught them, the father of one of the girls moved the table outside so we could enjoy the beautiful day while we were learning English.
And the little ones I taught...
Europeans have stereotypical views of American culture because of all the American movies. Well, sitting in pretty plazas with blooming flowers and motos is basically my idealistic view of all of Europe, or at least Spain. This lovely was taken in Granada.
Taken in Madrid, I love this image because to me it perfectly characterizes what Almodóvar calls the "movimiento madrileño." Madrid, and much of Spain really, is a life of partying and well, just general physical movement--metro, walking, bars, discotecas, one place, another place, acquaintances made for a night until it's time to move on to the next day. The night that I took this photo I was actually leaving a bar with some of my friends and we temporarily stopped to decide on where we should go next. Thus, this photo is a brief pause in that movement, "el movimiento madrileño," stopping only just long enough to ask the question, "Do you want to sleep with me?"
Prof. Losada and his purrón!
In Valencia, we were on our way back to the bus from Las Fallas back in February. The photo was taken by José around 4am when were all so dead tired. Nonetheless, it makes me smile.
Spending time with Ems in Barcelona was priceless. Wouldn't have traded it for anything.
Always liked this picture I took of my friend Anca. We were on an excursion and wandered into this gift shop that sold these little windchime/curtain things. I took one look at that thing and told her, "Oh my gosh, it's a gigantic Anca earring!" Thus, Anca posed with her earring, rightfully so.
FAVE cathedral in Barcelona. Prototypically gothic and beautiful. Santa María del Mar. Definitely would come to this cathedral to just to sit down in the pews for awhile and enjoy the unique smell of the interior.
Alcove in Montserrat.
Picture of my Mama in the gardens behind the University of Barcelona. So beautiful, both the woman and the historic building.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Being a Praire Girl
In honor of my being back in the plains of Illinois, I decided to do a photoshoot on the side of the backyard of my house. It really doesn't get more country than this, especially when we have barbecued steaks, sweet corn and iced tea for dinner al fresco.
My parents have a lovely GIGANTIC backyard filled with flowers, sheds, wicker furniture, picnic tables, pergolas, and lots of grass. Basically they've created an Eden and I love to go outside and sit at the picnic table and read and write amongst the flowers. To my surprise, our WIFI internet even reaches out to the picnic table where these photos were taken, so I can be on blogger AND in nature at the same time. Unfortunately my reintroduction to nature outside of the big city has landed me desparately scatching the 14 bug bites that I have acquired within the past two days.
My attempt at a shoe ad...
I really should just get a tripod for my Digital Canon SLR so I don't have to use my laptop to take photos. That SLR is as heavy as a powerlifter on Thanksgiving, but using it would really make these pictures bangin'. In the meantime I enjoy the rawness that comes with lower quality digital images.
My parents have a lovely GIGANTIC backyard filled with flowers, sheds, wicker furniture, picnic tables, pergolas, and lots of grass. Basically they've created an Eden and I love to go outside and sit at the picnic table and read and write amongst the flowers. To my surprise, our WIFI internet even reaches out to the picnic table where these photos were taken, so I can be on blogger AND in nature at the same time. Unfortunately my reintroduction to nature outside of the big city has landed me desparately scatching the 14 bug bites that I have acquired within the past two days.
My attempt at a shoe ad...
I really should just get a tripod for my Digital Canon SLR so I don't have to use my laptop to take photos. That SLR is as heavy as a powerlifter on Thanksgiving, but using it would really make these pictures bangin'. In the meantime I enjoy the rawness that comes with lower quality digital images.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Friday, June 4, 2010
Adéu, Barcelona
Dear Barcelona,
Within a few hours I'll have left you. I don't have time for the long goodbye that I would like to give you in this blog entry, but know that someday I'll be back. Perhaps by the time I return your Sagrada Familia will be finished. But even that's questionable. I would like to say to you that you taught me a lot, but really I came to you looking for something foreign and ended up just seeing myself. Funny how that happens.
Besos,
Jackie
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Moroccan Gems
Here are some of my favorite images from Morocco that you might have not seen. I took the first one and thanks to Eunice and Tomoyo for the rest! Sunsets, riding camels, and having random Moroccan men playfully dress me up pretty much characterized my entire trip. Loved it.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
One week, really?
I have one week left in Barcelona. I have just been darting around the city, to the library to work on my paper due on Tuesday, to the shoe store to by those sandals that I haven't had time to get yet, to my friends' apartments to say last goodbyes and have some cava, to cafés trying to suck down every last ounce of café con leche that I can have before I leave...
My program made a "yearbook" and many of us made a page to go inside it. Here is a much smaller version of my page.
It's one of my famous "half face" photos as my mom would say.
My program made a "yearbook" and many of us made a page to go inside it. Here is a much smaller version of my page.
It's one of my famous "half face" photos as my mom would say.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
The end is near...
Yes, I've been in a blogging funk. Finals, papers, and end of my stay here in Barcelona, have all been impeding me from sitting down and writing a good blog entry. I tried writing one the other day but it just came out all groady, with poorly structured English sentences and nothing all that exciting to read.
Things that have been going on:
-Endless papers and studying that I have to complete
-Emma coming to visit me for a few days this week! (schmoozing around teterías and cafés was glorious)
-Final dinner for the program last night. Though it was hardly classy seeing about 80 Americans get TRASHED on blush wine and dancing sloppily to the hoaky music sung by the 50-something year old DJ. I felt like I was at a Bar Mitzvah. All we were missing was Hava Nagila and some hoola hoops to get the real party started.
-Great weather! The weather has finally decided to warm up to the 70's. How exciting...and distracting.
And here's a little something for your viewing pleasure. Eunice and I went to La Nit dels Museus about two weeks ago. During this night from 7pm-1am almost all of the museums in Barcelona are free. We decided to go to the Pedrera because the first time we went there we had just gotten here, and now that we go back we are almost about to leave. It's a metaphoric way to celebrate our nine months here.
Laterrrrrr!
Things that have been going on:
-Endless papers and studying that I have to complete
-Emma coming to visit me for a few days this week! (schmoozing around teterías and cafés was glorious)
-Final dinner for the program last night. Though it was hardly classy seeing about 80 Americans get TRASHED on blush wine and dancing sloppily to the hoaky music sung by the 50-something year old DJ. I felt like I was at a Bar Mitzvah. All we were missing was Hava Nagila and some hoola hoops to get the real party started.
-Great weather! The weather has finally decided to warm up to the 70's. How exciting...and distracting.
And here's a little something for your viewing pleasure. Eunice and I went to La Nit dels Museus about two weeks ago. During this night from 7pm-1am almost all of the museums in Barcelona are free. We decided to go to the Pedrera because the first time we went there we had just gotten here, and now that we go back we are almost about to leave. It's a metaphoric way to celebrate our nine months here.
Laterrrrrr!
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Algunas fotos
Have little time for leisure writing right now. Distracting myself from my papers, I took these photos this week.
"Otra vez con las verduritas, Jackie??" Yes, this is a typical "Jackie" meal.
My mother at 16. There might be a slight resemblence between the two of us.
Other letters and postcards that I've received from people. Why don't we write letters anymore to each other? Written correspendence is so poetic.
If any of you have ever been in any one of my rooms (in Barcelona, Los Angeles, Champaign, Mahomet, etc.), you know that my shit naturally collects in piles one my desk, just like this one. Fake Ray Bans & beaded necklace from Morocco, Hungarian coins, an American dime, rings, Sephora lip gloss that I got for free, strands of my hair (I shed way too much).
The bane of my existence. I mean who doesn't get off in their sleep when they have the chance to read literary criticisms about 17th century customs?! That would explain my messy hair...
"Otra vez con las verduritas, Jackie??" Yes, this is a typical "Jackie" meal.
My mother at 16. There might be a slight resemblence between the two of us.
Other letters and postcards that I've received from people. Why don't we write letters anymore to each other? Written correspendence is so poetic.
If any of you have ever been in any one of my rooms (in Barcelona, Los Angeles, Champaign, Mahomet, etc.), you know that my shit naturally collects in piles one my desk, just like this one. Fake Ray Bans & beaded necklace from Morocco, Hungarian coins, an American dime, rings, Sephora lip gloss that I got for free, strands of my hair (I shed way too much).
The bane of my existence. I mean who doesn't get off in their sleep when they have the chance to read literary criticisms about 17th century customs?! That would explain my messy hair...
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Papers
In the library, en la sección de hispánicas. Seated by large bookshelves and a pretty window with a a tree right outside. Need to write papers. I have completed 2 of the 6 I need to finish, joder. Leaving Barcelona in 3.5 weeks. Again, joder.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
"How to be happy"
Step #234,023,082,777: Lead a more poetic lifestyle (see above photo). Carry a pen with you everywhere so you can detail your future assassinations. And then talk about your feelings if you have any spare room on the page.
Step #234,023,082,778: Congratulations, you've made it step #234,023,082,778 of "How to be happy." Doesn't that make you feel good inside?
Step #234,023,082,779: Commit suicide. If you're not happy by now you're not going to be. But a job very well done on making it all the way to step # 234,023,082,779. You must really have some type of fortitude for life (or at least for reading really long and overly-generalized guidebooks that feed hackneyed sayings and perpetuate general bullshit).
Step #234,023,082,780: Maybe committing suicide really isn't for you. I mean, you didn't do it after I told you to in the previous step. Give yourself a pat on the back.
Step #234,023,082,781: Why are you reading this if you're not going to take my advice? I don't know what will make you happy, damnit. I don't even know you and we've already covered the other typical approaches toward happiness (to review some of the most successful approaches like retail therapy, cats, anorexia, compulsive eating, and lying, please review steps 13- 234,023,082,776 of this guide. Should you have relapsed on your journey toward happiness somewhere between steps 13 and 234,023,082,781, it's understandable. A lot of time has passed. Just make sure you revisit steps 1-12 because sobriety is really something to aim for. Take those 12 steps.)
Step #234,023,082,782: You have issues. Are you happy now? I said it because, wow, someone needed to.
Wednesday's Kidlets and Thursday's writings
Took this photo of the kidlets and myself yesterday, 5 May 2010. I teach Marcel and Paula English every Wednesday.
After I finished with the niños yesterday I walked outside onto Balmes and saw pretty clouds and a perfect light was shining on Tibidabo. Now that the hour has changed the sun doesn't go down until 9pm. This photo was taken around that time.
Today I went to my Don Quijote class and afterward spent the rest of my day with peanut butter and jelly and Picasso. Together we sat by a window in the facultad de letras library on the Gran Via and I wrote my paper about all the women that Picasso boned in his life. He robbed their spirits and then put them on a canvas. At least he came out with some interesting stuff.
The Dream
Oh, sweet and innocent 17-year-old Marie-Thérèse. You lied to your mother so you could spend afternoons with a genius and you ended up with a dick in your face and a daughter named Maya.
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