I need to write. I have so many things on my mind I'm not even going to try to watch Fisica o quimica. That's how distressed I am. I can download it or catch the repeat Saturday afternoon, eh?
My visa conveniently expires 31 May. I find this out yesterday because of how long they have taken to process. After waiting two hours to get the ID card renewed, they told me they weren't going to bother because of how late it was, but that if I got papers in to be renewed that as long as they were in the system I was legal unless it came back as a no. Now these papers are supposed to be in between 15 days before the expiration. I did not find out until this date had already passed. I have emailed the people at the Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona to ask I can do. I will probably have to go up there next week, give them what I have, and figure out what to do for the summer. I need the money that comes from working at the camp, but I honestly don't know how I am going to make it on what little money I have as I won't see the money from the camp until the second week of August.
If I somehow got money to go to the States for the summer, there is little chance of of me getting a job. I am too educated for any job where my mom lives, and I can't ask a friend to crash even with offering to do all household chores and a little bit of rent just for the summer, which I would do both.
All day today, I have been thinking if I really want to stay in Spain, if everything I'm giving up is worth it. I miss my car and miss driving. I miss my puppy. I am sick and tired of being broke. And I wonder if it would be easier for me to find what I want most in life, the elusive boyfriend, would be easier to find in the States. And I know I would be a damn good Spanish teacher if I could deal with all the rules and regulations of teaching in the States that aren't so present in Spain. (I can leave school property if I'm not on a class, wear jeans and a polo, etc.) And I am not used to American teacher/students dynamics. I am also worried about my mom and something happening to her again, something worse.
I have reached the point where if something doesn't change in the year it takes to obtain my master, that if Barcelona isn't for me, I would cut my losses and return to the States with my master to teach Spanish or look for a Ph.D.
Faced with losing Spain and the master once again? My heart says I totally want the master, want the year in Barcelona. I still am concentrating on putting all my positive energies on obtaining funding and this becoming reality.
However, I am also...losing the will. Losing my will to fight. Nothing in life that's worth it comes without fighting. But I have been fighting so long.
I honestly don't know what to do. I can't get ahead financially. I know I cannot survive Kentucky. I'm barely surviving Spain.
I'm tired. I'm lost. I'm lonely. I'm scared. I'm broke. I need a hug.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
mi gimnasio
I joined the gym.
Growing up, I was always the kid who detested gym (physical education, P.E., whatever class). I sucked at situps, pushups, running, basketball, baseball, volleyball, whatever. I was afraid to change in the locker rooms. I missed every foul shot, served the ball out of bounds if it even went over the net, whatever. I never tried out for any sport, staying a band nerd and a newspaper/yearbook geek.
I joined the gym.
My sophomore year of college, I joined Gold's Gym for $35 a month. I went maybe three times in six months. During college, I also balloned up to 265 pounds at one point due to depression over being gay and other things going on. My mom had to call and tell them, in the immortal words of Chandler Bing, "I quit the gym."
I joined the gym.
I lost 115 pounds (52.3 kg) in a little over a year with walking every day and cutting out carbonated beverages (pop soda refrescos fizzy drinks). For the most part, I've kept it off, averaging betwen 150 pounds (68.2 kg) and 170/77.3 between 2007 and now. At my lowest, I was down to 63.6 kg/140 pounds in June 2009 after a bad case of strep (amigdalitis) that March. In December, I was back up to 76 kg after a particularly bad autumn.
I joined the gym.
I was always jealous of all the gym boys. Being gay, not only do I have the complex of seeing guys and envying their bodies and wanting to look like them, I also have the complex of wanting to be with the hot bodies. But I've always had the excuse of money and doubting that I would ever go. Even after I was told by a psychologist that I should join the gym to work out anxiety, depression and self-esteem issues, the fear of that big matriculation fee in Spain kept me away.
I joined the gym.
In December, after reading every book by Federico Moccia that I could get from the library and then seeing Mario Casas and his abs in A tres metros sobre cielo, I had to do it. Like Step in the book version, when I finally got paid in January, I made good on the New Year's resolution to join the gym. I went to the gym, and like Step, I paid them the money (discount. With the matriculation, the first month was free.)
I joined the gym.
The gym has become my addiction. After being told to try out several classes, I fell in love with Body Combat. (I still will give Body Balance another shot and may try the new Body Pump choreography). While some of the classes made me feel exactly like the awkward teenager (the aformentioned Body Pump), Body Combat is wicked fun. Who knew that fake fighting choreography would be my salvation? I have also taken up running and the ellpitical hard core. It took me a month to get over my fear of lifting, and I had so much "vergüenza" to ask the hottie trainer guy for help. Now I lift twice a week.
I joined the gym.
And it revolutionized my life. I am back down to 69 kg (152 lbs). My nicer clothes are fitting again, and all my pants are wayyyy loose. (Hopefully I'll win the lottery so I can buy some new 28 waist jeans?) I need the gym like Mariah needs splashes of champagne at awards shows. It is my new addiction. I just hope I have time and money to continue with it in the future. Who knew that I had it in me to be a gym rat?
I joined the gym.
Growing up, I was always the kid who detested gym (physical education, P.E., whatever class). I sucked at situps, pushups, running, basketball, baseball, volleyball, whatever. I was afraid to change in the locker rooms. I missed every foul shot, served the ball out of bounds if it even went over the net, whatever. I never tried out for any sport, staying a band nerd and a newspaper/yearbook geek.
I joined the gym.
My sophomore year of college, I joined Gold's Gym for $35 a month. I went maybe three times in six months. During college, I also balloned up to 265 pounds at one point due to depression over being gay and other things going on. My mom had to call and tell them, in the immortal words of Chandler Bing, "I quit the gym."
I joined the gym.
I lost 115 pounds (52.3 kg) in a little over a year with walking every day and cutting out carbonated beverages (pop soda refrescos fizzy drinks). For the most part, I've kept it off, averaging betwen 150 pounds (68.2 kg) and 170/77.3 between 2007 and now. At my lowest, I was down to 63.6 kg/140 pounds in June 2009 after a bad case of strep (amigdalitis) that March. In December, I was back up to 76 kg after a particularly bad autumn.
I joined the gym.
I was always jealous of all the gym boys. Being gay, not only do I have the complex of seeing guys and envying their bodies and wanting to look like them, I also have the complex of wanting to be with the hot bodies. But I've always had the excuse of money and doubting that I would ever go. Even after I was told by a psychologist that I should join the gym to work out anxiety, depression and self-esteem issues, the fear of that big matriculation fee in Spain kept me away.
I joined the gym.
In December, after reading every book by Federico Moccia that I could get from the library and then seeing Mario Casas and his abs in A tres metros sobre cielo, I had to do it. Like Step in the book version, when I finally got paid in January, I made good on the New Year's resolution to join the gym. I went to the gym, and like Step, I paid them the money (discount. With the matriculation, the first month was free.)
I joined the gym.
The gym has become my addiction. After being told to try out several classes, I fell in love with Body Combat. (I still will give Body Balance another shot and may try the new Body Pump choreography). While some of the classes made me feel exactly like the awkward teenager (the aformentioned Body Pump), Body Combat is wicked fun. Who knew that fake fighting choreography would be my salvation? I have also taken up running and the ellpitical hard core. It took me a month to get over my fear of lifting, and I had so much "vergüenza" to ask the hottie trainer guy for help. Now I lift twice a week.
I joined the gym.
And it revolutionized my life. I am back down to 69 kg (152 lbs). My nicer clothes are fitting again, and all my pants are wayyyy loose. (Hopefully I'll win the lottery so I can buy some new 28 waist jeans?) I need the gym like Mariah needs splashes of champagne at awards shows. It is my new addiction. I just hope I have time and money to continue with it in the future. Who knew that I had it in me to be a gym rat?
I joined the gym.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
mis fallas
So, wait...they burn them four days after putting them up?
Welcome to Fallas, one of the most bizarre festivals in the world....however, it is only second in bizareness in the Comunitat Valenciana, remember, as every August Bunyol has a festival where people throw tomatoes at each other.
All year, the "artistas falleras" work on creating five story Falla monuments criticizing popular culture and governmental figures. It takes about a week every March to construct them. They have to be constructed by midnight on 15th March. And on the 19th March, the city is on fire as all of these Fallas are burnt to the ground. This is accompanied by the Mascletà, an annoying production of smoke and noise every day for three weeks at 2 pm in the Plaça d'ajuntament. And if that's not enough, every night, during the week of Fallas, at midnight, or at 1, or at 1.30 a.m., there are colossal firework displays, ending with the Nit de Foc (Noche de fuego, o Night of Fire, in valencian Catalan.
My favourite part had to be "Les ilumnaciones", when two streets in the Barrio Ruzafa are illuminated with the brightest, most beautiful lights you can imagine.
Another tradition is the eating of "buñuelos", something like a churro made of pumpkin and deep fried.
All week, I was on edge from not only all the people, which always tend to "agobiar" me, but also from the news that my mom was in the hospital. She nearly died. However, the prognosis is good, she´s at home and recovering from a heart attack. It set a somber tone on what should've been a festive event. I did the best I could to forget.
Some of the Fallas were awesome. My favourites included the most evil governor since George. W. Bush governed Texas Francisco Camps as La Bella and (not)ambigulously lesbian mayor Rita Barbarà as La Bestia, Obama as "Baraknieves", a pun on Blancanieves (Spanish for Snow White) and La princesa del reino Letizia and princesa del barrio Belén Esteban.
I have to say, this was a once in a life time experience. I'm glad to have finally experienced a major Spanish festival, but at the same time, I don't think I´ll be doing Semana Santa in Andalucía, Fería de abril (this year in May!) in Sevilla or los San Fermines de Pamplona any time soon.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
mi hollister
Hollister, my favourite former employer, has recently opened three stores in Spain, including one here in Valencia. And out of morbid curiosity, I took a visit today to see what it was like.
It was exactly the same, except the Dude's and Betty's side were flipped, and those two oh-so-never-used words were missing. Instead of a live feed from Hunnington Beach, where it would currently be pitch black, they had a taped feed loop from it with waves crashing almost audible over the bland pop punk music that was stale in 2004. And they were more or less the exact same clothes I spent eight months folding every night from 9 p.m. until 2 a.m. more or less. Nothing ever changes.
Somehow they managed to find the three Spaniards over six feet tall to work there, and the models, what Hollister refers to their sales associates, had the same vapid looks as they do in the States. They greeted me at the door in Spanish, where I had heard that they are supposed to greet in English, so I COULD call corporate on them. However, I ended up buying a hoodie, and the girl who rang me up said in the worst accent and not at all from a script "Hey what's up dude?" She thankfully changed back to Spanish after I blankly said.....¿Cómo?. Ohhh, hola qué tal?. (What's up is technically ¿qué pasa? and dude would be tio, chaval, chico, hombre, whatever.
The clothes were ridiculously expensive. Whereas in the States Hollister is actually somewhat reasonably priced as Abercrombie's little sister, in Spain, a t-shirt was 22 Euro, which is easily over $30 even on days where the dollar is somewhat strong. I won't even repeat the price of a hoodie as it's almost as shocking as Beyonce having a career despite her lack of talent. The hoodie I found was on clearance for 15,90. A definite "ganga" as it's usually over 60.
I worked at Hollister for 8 months, making it the longest I've been employed. And I grew a lot at that job. It's the job that motivated me to go back to school which lead me to Spain. I complained a LOT those 8 months, October 2006-May 2007, but looking back, it was a good experience and beat being unemployed.
Still, some of the Hollister policies are out there.
Especially English greetings in Spain.
It was exactly the same, except the Dude's and Betty's side were flipped, and those two oh-so-never-used words were missing. Instead of a live feed from Hunnington Beach, where it would currently be pitch black, they had a taped feed loop from it with waves crashing almost audible over the bland pop punk music that was stale in 2004. And they were more or less the exact same clothes I spent eight months folding every night from 9 p.m. until 2 a.m. more or less. Nothing ever changes.
Somehow they managed to find the three Spaniards over six feet tall to work there, and the models, what Hollister refers to their sales associates, had the same vapid looks as they do in the States. They greeted me at the door in Spanish, where I had heard that they are supposed to greet in English, so I COULD call corporate on them. However, I ended up buying a hoodie, and the girl who rang me up said in the worst accent and not at all from a script "Hey what's up dude?" She thankfully changed back to Spanish after I blankly said.....¿Cómo?. Ohhh, hola qué tal?. (What's up is technically ¿qué pasa? and dude would be tio, chaval, chico, hombre, whatever.
The clothes were ridiculously expensive. Whereas in the States Hollister is actually somewhat reasonably priced as Abercrombie's little sister, in Spain, a t-shirt was 22 Euro, which is easily over $30 even on days where the dollar is somewhat strong. I won't even repeat the price of a hoodie as it's almost as shocking as Beyonce having a career despite her lack of talent. The hoodie I found was on clearance for 15,90. A definite "ganga" as it's usually over 60.
I worked at Hollister for 8 months, making it the longest I've been employed. And I grew a lot at that job. It's the job that motivated me to go back to school which lead me to Spain. I complained a LOT those 8 months, October 2006-May 2007, but looking back, it was a good experience and beat being unemployed.
Still, some of the Hollister policies are out there.
Especially English greetings in Spain.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
mi cumpleaños 29...por la primera vez
The Pablo show has just entered it's 29th season, and we here at Entertainment Weekly España sat down with the headwriter for our annual conversation. We know it's a few days late, but there's a good reason.
EWE: So...first off...what a guest star to open up the 29th season. Lady Gaga herself. How'd you land that one?
HW: Well, Lady Gaga loves her gays, so she was quite happy to oblige. She responded to our constant tweets in May to do a concert in Madrid on 12/12, and it worked. The "Happy birthday" though? That was unexpected. And totally f...ing awesome, as Gaga herself would say.
EWE: So in season 28, we saw some pretty awesome highs and pretty downright horrible lows. Highs were June, July and December. The show went on location to Rome, Zaragoza, Avila, Aranjuez, País vasco, Hendaya in France, Alcala de Henares, Salamanca, Mallorca, Valencia two times (before you relocated there), Santander, Gran Canarias...and a very special two weeks in Daimiel where you arranged for Spain to win the World Cup.
HW: You act as if we wrote the World Cup win. Sometimes real life events just help us write. And oh, might I add, 5-0 Barça?
EWE: Go right ahead. It never gets old. 5-0 Barça!
HW: 5-0 Barça!
EWE: 5-0 Barça!
HW: Where were we?
EWE: 28th year in review....
HW: Oh yeah. But there were some pretty damn low lows. Like the entire month of May...getting fired and finding out that crush was once again unrequited.
EWE: What was that about? We want you to cast the principe azul already.
HW: It's going to be a HORRIBLY DIFFICULT role to cast. I know we're getting repetitious with the unrequited love bit. We're taking our time.
EWE: We've waited 28 seasons...do it in the 29th already!
HW: Let's hope. And look at what we did do! The victory of getting accepted into grad school, the acceptance of real life and taking the job to try to save up for the masters, which now is impossible because of the refusal to pay for a job well done...
EWE: So do we have any spoilers for season 29? Another relocation perhaps?
HW: Depending on master's and jobs, there could possibly be a move back to Madrid or we may even leave Spain and go to Catalunya.
EWE: You just did NOT go there.
HW: Oh I did.
EWE: And holidays?
HW: Well, we have Christmas in País vasco planned...the journey to step foot in all 17 autonomous communities is on fire. We've gone to 12, and this trip will hit up Navarra and La Rioja. And there's some trip to Tenerife planned in February if all goes well. We're hoping for Greece for Semana Santa, but that's still a pipe dream.
EWE: Sounds pretty awesome.
HW: We'll also see Pablo learning catalan, er, I mean, valenciano.
EWE: Right.
HW: They're distinct, you know. In catalan, it's sortida. In valenciano, it's eixida. In catalan, they would NEVER say "mone."
EWE: Right.
HW: Muy distintos.
EWE: Right.
HW: And we hope to bring you a 7-0 Barça win.
EWE: Oh that would be lovely!
HW: And True Blood, Gossip Girl, United States of Tara and Felicity Huffman obsessions to continue, of course. Pablo will be attending rehab so he can quit Fisica o quimica.
EWE: That's some GREAT news.
HW: It is.
EWE: Thanks again for the interview. Enhorabuena en temporada 29. Will there be a 30th?
HW: No, we're just going to repeat the 29th season renewal every year for a few years like it's a bucle of Fisica o quimica.
EWE: So...first off...what a guest star to open up the 29th season. Lady Gaga herself. How'd you land that one?
HW: Well, Lady Gaga loves her gays, so she was quite happy to oblige. She responded to our constant tweets in May to do a concert in Madrid on 12/12, and it worked. The "Happy birthday" though? That was unexpected. And totally f...ing awesome, as Gaga herself would say.
EWE: So in season 28, we saw some pretty awesome highs and pretty downright horrible lows. Highs were June, July and December. The show went on location to Rome, Zaragoza, Avila, Aranjuez, País vasco, Hendaya in France, Alcala de Henares, Salamanca, Mallorca, Valencia two times (before you relocated there), Santander, Gran Canarias...and a very special two weeks in Daimiel where you arranged for Spain to win the World Cup.
HW: You act as if we wrote the World Cup win. Sometimes real life events just help us write. And oh, might I add, 5-0 Barça?
EWE: Go right ahead. It never gets old. 5-0 Barça!
HW: 5-0 Barça!
EWE: 5-0 Barça!
HW: Where were we?
EWE: 28th year in review....
HW: Oh yeah. But there were some pretty damn low lows. Like the entire month of May...getting fired and finding out that crush was once again unrequited.
EWE: What was that about? We want you to cast the principe azul already.
HW: It's going to be a HORRIBLY DIFFICULT role to cast. I know we're getting repetitious with the unrequited love bit. We're taking our time.
EWE: We've waited 28 seasons...do it in the 29th already!
HW: Let's hope. And look at what we did do! The victory of getting accepted into grad school, the acceptance of real life and taking the job to try to save up for the masters, which now is impossible because of the refusal to pay for a job well done...
EWE: So do we have any spoilers for season 29? Another relocation perhaps?
HW: Depending on master's and jobs, there could possibly be a move back to Madrid or we may even leave Spain and go to Catalunya.
EWE: You just did NOT go there.
HW: Oh I did.
EWE: And holidays?
HW: Well, we have Christmas in País vasco planned...the journey to step foot in all 17 autonomous communities is on fire. We've gone to 12, and this trip will hit up Navarra and La Rioja. And there's some trip to Tenerife planned in February if all goes well. We're hoping for Greece for Semana Santa, but that's still a pipe dream.
EWE: Sounds pretty awesome.
HW: We'll also see Pablo learning catalan, er, I mean, valenciano.
EWE: Right.
HW: They're distinct, you know. In catalan, it's sortida. In valenciano, it's eixida. In catalan, they would NEVER say "mone."
EWE: Right.
HW: Muy distintos.
EWE: Right.
HW: And we hope to bring you a 7-0 Barça win.
EWE: Oh that would be lovely!
HW: And True Blood, Gossip Girl, United States of Tara and Felicity Huffman obsessions to continue, of course. Pablo will be attending rehab so he can quit Fisica o quimica.
EWE: That's some GREAT news.
HW: It is.
EWE: Thanks again for the interview. Enhorabuena en temporada 29. Will there be a 30th?
HW: No, we're just going to repeat the 29th season renewal every year for a few years like it's a bucle of Fisica o quimica.
Friday, November 19, 2010
mis cambios de la vida**
**Sometimes one has to write a little bit weird for a good title. It should be los, but I have to title it mis :P
If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.
This statement is so true it's not even funny. The past two months have been a roller coaster of emotion and changes that I can barely keep track myself, and I'm living it.
At the beginning of August, I moved to Valencia to start a new life after an extremely hard year in Madrid. A job that made me exhausted and miserable, the worst roommates I have ever known and an unrequited crush on a close friend just made the Madrid experience a bad one. Picking myself up again after being not renewed at my job for being too "reservado", I came to Valencia in pursuit of that ever elusive master.
First five minutes in Valencia, I lose the best mobile phone I've ever had. All my photos and music gone. I get a bad case of heat exhaustion that leaves me weak for most of the month. I then move in a temp place that tries to kick me out before the month is out because someone decided to end his vacation early.
This leads me to take the one flat available at this time, a student flat in the student party zone of Valencia. The people might be nice, but they are not respectful and don't tell me beforehand about the parties they're throwing or guests that won't leave for two weeks, nor that the flat has NO HEAT, and I'm paying way too much for a tiny room that only lets cold air in now that it's November. Needless to say, I'm moving again at the end of the month. I'm down to two places, both with gay flatmates, that although aren't exactly in the zona I want, would be a place where I would feel comfortable.
And that elusive master? It remains elusive. Due to my inability to find a job, I had to drop that plan. I eventually lucked out and landed the same position I had in Madrid and Linares, but back in a secondary school. The school is in a pueblo in Castellón, and it's actually a good fit for me. I'm not so reserved, I'm learning a lot of catalanquierodecirvalenciano, and I prefer working with high school students.
The problem with this job is that they have not paid me. The bilingual program in Spain gives scholarships to native English students in hopes that the English levels in Spain improve. And...the government of Valencia has not paid any of their auxiliares. I'm down to my last cent. My school has had to give me a loan, and I still may be in financial hell for some considerable time.
Christmas time is coming, and this will be the third year I won't be with family. And this year is looking to be the hardest. I'm going to Bilbao to be with my friend Ashley, so I hope that things won't be quite as bad as they got to be last year. However, I really am feeling the hurt already in November.
At least I have Lady Gaga in Madrid on my birthday to look forward to. I'm hoping things turn around, but right now, although I still like Valencia, all the bad things that have happened have put a damper on my spirit. I continue thinking positive and trying to bring positive energy, but it's also quite hard to keep that positive energy when all that bad stuff keeps coming at once.
So...yeah. That's everything that's been going on as of late. And I'm trying to figure out the future. Whether it's trying to get a stable job teaching at a school in Spain or going on to my master (in a place that's not Valencia), only time will tell.
Just gotta keep trucking on, as hard as it may be.
If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.
This statement is so true it's not even funny. The past two months have been a roller coaster of emotion and changes that I can barely keep track myself, and I'm living it.
At the beginning of August, I moved to Valencia to start a new life after an extremely hard year in Madrid. A job that made me exhausted and miserable, the worst roommates I have ever known and an unrequited crush on a close friend just made the Madrid experience a bad one. Picking myself up again after being not renewed at my job for being too "reservado", I came to Valencia in pursuit of that ever elusive master.
First five minutes in Valencia, I lose the best mobile phone I've ever had. All my photos and music gone. I get a bad case of heat exhaustion that leaves me weak for most of the month. I then move in a temp place that tries to kick me out before the month is out because someone decided to end his vacation early.
This leads me to take the one flat available at this time, a student flat in the student party zone of Valencia. The people might be nice, but they are not respectful and don't tell me beforehand about the parties they're throwing or guests that won't leave for two weeks, nor that the flat has NO HEAT, and I'm paying way too much for a tiny room that only lets cold air in now that it's November. Needless to say, I'm moving again at the end of the month. I'm down to two places, both with gay flatmates, that although aren't exactly in the zona I want, would be a place where I would feel comfortable.
And that elusive master? It remains elusive. Due to my inability to find a job, I had to drop that plan. I eventually lucked out and landed the same position I had in Madrid and Linares, but back in a secondary school. The school is in a pueblo in Castellón, and it's actually a good fit for me. I'm not so reserved, I'm learning a lot of catalanquierodecirvalenciano, and I prefer working with high school students.
The problem with this job is that they have not paid me. The bilingual program in Spain gives scholarships to native English students in hopes that the English levels in Spain improve. And...the government of Valencia has not paid any of their auxiliares. I'm down to my last cent. My school has had to give me a loan, and I still may be in financial hell for some considerable time.
Christmas time is coming, and this will be the third year I won't be with family. And this year is looking to be the hardest. I'm going to Bilbao to be with my friend Ashley, so I hope that things won't be quite as bad as they got to be last year. However, I really am feeling the hurt already in November.
At least I have Lady Gaga in Madrid on my birthday to look forward to. I'm hoping things turn around, but right now, although I still like Valencia, all the bad things that have happened have put a damper on my spirit. I continue thinking positive and trying to bring positive energy, but it's also quite hard to keep that positive energy when all that bad stuff keeps coming at once.
So...yeah. That's everything that's been going on as of late. And I'm trying to figure out the future. Whether it's trying to get a stable job teaching at a school in Spain or going on to my master (in a place that's not Valencia), only time will tell.
Just gotta keep trucking on, as hard as it may be.
Friday, September 17, 2010
mi
At what point do you just give up? Throw in the towel? Admit defeat?
It's Friday night. Couples are walking around hand in hand. Friends are chatting over beers or tastier beverages (I hate beer). And I'm here in my room, alone, reeling from today's events.
Friday nights in my room alone playing Bejeweled Blitz and watching movies I downloaded is the norm. Because of how much of an effort it takes for me to make friends and meet people. Sometimes I do go out alone, sit in the corner sipping on a whiskey cola (drink of the moment because the guy I used to like drinks it) watching people but too damn shy to talk to anyone. I leave alone, of course. I'm shy. I'm introverted. I'm used to it.
Today I met up with a friend I had chatted with online. Five minutes later, he got up, told me he was bored and was leaving, good luck, I'll probably eventually will meet friends but I'm too shy and he's leaving. Left me there sitting alone, just walked off. "Me marcho". Not even adios, hasta luego, nada.
I try my best to be sociable and friendly, but I honestly don't know how. I'm introvertido...introverted. So it takes a while. But this is the second time something like this has happened in the month I've lived in Valencia. What gives? At least madrileños have the decency to wait until they get home to delete you from their messenger and never speak to you again without telling you how much you suck.
I am forced to remember how alone I was in Madrid. How things were just starting to come together when I hightailed it out of there. Then my last night there when I had no one to go out with, and how I was utterly alone. Now it's just a distant memory.
I am really sick and tired of being alone. I feel so alone and isolated. I keep trying to change, and failing. I'm scared I'm doomed to being this way the rest of my life. I'm already 28...
It's Friday night. Couples are walking around hand in hand. Friends are chatting over beers or tastier beverages (I hate beer). And I'm here in my room, alone, reeling from today's events.
Friday nights in my room alone playing Bejeweled Blitz and watching movies I downloaded is the norm. Because of how much of an effort it takes for me to make friends and meet people. Sometimes I do go out alone, sit in the corner sipping on a whiskey cola (drink of the moment because the guy I used to like drinks it) watching people but too damn shy to talk to anyone. I leave alone, of course. I'm shy. I'm introverted. I'm used to it.
Today I met up with a friend I had chatted with online. Five minutes later, he got up, told me he was bored and was leaving, good luck, I'll probably eventually will meet friends but I'm too shy and he's leaving. Left me there sitting alone, just walked off. "Me marcho". Not even adios, hasta luego, nada.
I try my best to be sociable and friendly, but I honestly don't know how. I'm introvertido...introverted. So it takes a while. But this is the second time something like this has happened in the month I've lived in Valencia. What gives? At least madrileños have the decency to wait until they get home to delete you from their messenger and never speak to you again without telling you how much you suck.
I am forced to remember how alone I was in Madrid. How things were just starting to come together when I hightailed it out of there. Then my last night there when I had no one to go out with, and how I was utterly alone. Now it's just a distant memory.
I am really sick and tired of being alone. I feel so alone and isolated. I keep trying to change, and failing. I'm scared I'm doomed to being this way the rest of my life. I'm already 28...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
