Thanksgiving two years ago was in Galway. I went with my friend Rachel, and I honestly don't remember what we did that morning. I think part of it was getting there from Loughrea, where we stayed with her rich great-aunt of some sort, Baby Ward, who put us up in the town's nicest bed and breakfast. If it was that day, which I can't quite remember, I woke up pretty early and went down where we had the "traditional Irish breakfast", with this cute little couple sitting across the room in those old fashioned riding pants and hats, I'm pretty sure they were actually going on a fox hunt like in the old movies. Anyway breakfast was about 15 kinds of meat and sausage, dark brown hard toast, (and some regular toast, which I think they brought because we were American), and a big pot of really strong tea.
So we caught the bus and went into Galway, and moved in to our hostel on Eyre Square. We stayed in a room with about 25 beds, an all-girls room. Rachel studied for a while and I went down to Galway Harbour and the River Corrib, this one part of it where I had been a couple of months before to journal, and people were kayaking in the river. We met this girl named Roso (pronounced Ro-jo) from Cataluna in our hostel who was by herself, so I invited her to come eat dinner with us.
Thanksgiving dinner was chicken Caesar salad and a Guinness. Then we went to an internet cafe to call the parents, at about 8pm to us so it was about 2pm there, dinner time. While I was on the phone Roso met about 10 other kids from Spain in the internet cafe, and Rachel went home and I went out for drinks with all of them to a little pub. There were about 11 or so Spanish kids, one kind of smelly Italian, and me, the American, the only one of the group who really spoke English.
Most of the group was Catalonian, with I think one Madrileno (from Madrid, who got picked on incessantly), and 2 or 3 Basques. They talked most of the time about separatism (in Castillian, for my sake, mostly), and how the Catalonians were pissed that nobody knew about their highly organized, and civilized, separatist movements because they didn't go around dropping bombs everywhere like ETA. Anyway so we kept toasting to "Visca Catalunia!" and "Euskadi Ta Askatasuna!" and stuff, and they were teaching me phrases in their languages.
I came home and spent the next semester writing my senior thesis on separatism and nationalism in Spain (mostly Basque Country) and Ireland (the IRA), and got a pretty good grade on it, if I do say so myself.
We carved pumpkins last night. So fun, and like, intense. I almost cut my fingers several times. Kyle did an octave on the piano, which was cool, Katy did a sort of classic Jack O Lantern face (remarkable given her current... handicap), Emily did a cat, Sarah did (whatever her initials are) <HEART> (whatever Brian's initials are), Dane did another Jack O Lantern face that looked like Jack from Nightmare Before Christmas, and I did this like face/skyline thing where the buildings were kind of like crooked teeth and there were two stars/eyes. It was way fun. I'll post pictures when I get some.
Go see Science of Sleep. We LOVED it. And all the way home (via Flower Mound, stupid non-business 121) we talked about how we could create; Dane wanted to do like Flash and Photoshop and fonts and icons or whatever, I wanted to do felt and yarn and cardboard like the movie. Or write. Or draw. Or something. And I mean, what's the point of a movie if it doesn't do that to you?
Oh and I also desperately want to learn French. Life is so one-dimensional in one language. And two is better, but three! Ugh. (But P.S. I get to start translating! I'll be translating testimonies and legal documents for domestic violence/trafficking victims wanting citizenship or asylum, for an organization that provides free legal counsel. So excited to use my Spanish again, and be useful.)
Next up... It's got Gael AND Inarritu, again. (!!!!!!)
What shall I be? The job's getting old. I think, vocationally speaking, I seem to have about a 10-month attention span. I'm not sure you can really do that in the real world. Of course, what have I done so far...? Retail, hostess, waitress, barista, receptionist, receptionist, receptionist... maybe there's SOMETHING I could do for longer than a year at a time. Here are my options, feel free to weigh in. I mean, this is like 40 hours a week we're talking about. Eight hours of daylight... PER DAY. I have to make it good.
Go back to graduate school, school forever, debt forever, then be a PROFESSOR. Of Modern European History, probably. Perks: I'm already accepted; summers off, maybe; different hours; I love love love academia; I'd keep learning. I've figured out that I've been conditioned that way, they made me learn for 22 years, I can't stop now.
Flight attendant for Southwest. Perks: flexible schedule; flight privileges for both of us; work with Dad (sort of); Southwest's benefits, as much or as little vacation as I want. BUT, you have to be able to go I think 6 weeks without getting paid, and I think the schedule is a little rough until you earn some seniority. And, I mean, airplane air. Ew.
Hospital Translator. Kat's idea. I'm afraid that around here, my Spanish skills aren't so in-demand, I think somebody with Spanish as a first language would be more qualified, but who knows. And I'd have to study, learn all the hospital-y words. Perks: Work 3 days, 4 days off every week. I just can't do the whole 8-5 routine. And I'd try to take a few classes and pick up another language, maybe French. And maybe I could work with Kat.
Something at home. Perks: At home; make my own hours; could possibly find something creative/crafty to do/sell; good for (eep!) when we have kids some day; no uncomfortable shoes or spending all your paycheck on work clothes; could work schedule with Dane's; could actually get my money's worth out of Netflix. One (slight) drawback - um, I don't exactly know what I'd do at home.
Stay where I am. Perks: good pay; good people; not too hard or stressful; good benefits; I know I probably won't find another desk job quite this good. BUT - I hate the 8-5. I can SEE the outside, I just can't BE there. And I have like ONE whole day of the week to sleep in, if that. I know, I know, grow up, Abbey.
Y'all have heard of Jesus Camp, right? From a review, on Pajiba, by a writer who is usually not so sympathetic to the Christian Right:
"...trust me when I say that the brand of Christianity advertised and practiced in Jesus Camp, a new documentary from co-directors Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady, is in no way indicative of the hundreds — likely thousands — of emotionally stable and globally minded people of faith who are doing their best to live simple, good lives across the country. The film is a startling look at a few extreme evangelicals who home-school their kids and send them in the summer to a week-long Bible camp in North Dakota, where they listen to the fiery sermons of Beck Fischer, the Pentecostal pastor who runs the place and sees it as her duty to train up children in the way they should go, specifically to be part of the Lord’s army. Army for what? Well, for reclaiming America. While the film is an illuminating look into a growing niche of hard-line faith, it’s also a jaw-dropping and often sad look at the kids caught in the middle."
Whew. I was really bracing myself for this movie. Worried that a couple of crazies were going to make us all look like crazies. I'm so glad to know that the smart people will keep being smart, and not oversimplifying things. Because really, that's just lazy. To, you know, look at that movie and write off the whole group. Anyway.
Once there was this guy who was born with only one eye. His parents had a prosthetic wooden eye put in so that he wouldn't look quite as different as the other kids. He made it through school pretty well, made some friends, had some laughs, but he was always a little self-conscious about his one wooden eyeball.
His senior year came along and he was way too nervous to ask a girl to go with him, so he went with a group of buddies. He stood in the corner through most of it, too embarassed to ask anybody to dance with him, until he saw this cute girl across the room with a peg leg sticking out from under her dress. He thought he might have found himself somebody a little more in his league, so he took some deep breaths, popped his neck, and mustered up his courage, and walked across the floor to the girl.
"Hi!" he said.
"Hi," she said.
"Would you like to dance with me?"
She replied, with much enthusiasm, "Would I?!?"
And he goes "PEG LEG!!! PEG LEG!!!"
